Jacob's scream is brief but bloodcurdling, a high-pitched wail torn from his throat. He fights for freedom, his whole body thrashing, his face a twisted animal mask, but the men on either side are too strong for him, they hold him down. The one-eyed man draws the whip back with a casual and graceful movement. Veronica closes her eyes tightly, she doesn't want to look. She is close enough to feel the slipstream as the whip snaps through the air. Jacob howls four more times.
Then Derek says, sharply, "No!"
Veronica opens her eyes. Jacob's head has been pulled back by one of the pygmies, and the one-eyed man has his panga to the lanky Canadian's throat, pressing hard enough that a blood trickles from the line of contact. Veronica knows it won't take much more force to puncture Jacob's jugular vein. Derek's every muscle is taut as he stands beside her, he looks like he wants to throw himself at the one-eyed man.
"Please," Jacob gasps, his body perfectly still. "Please, no, don't kill me, please, I'll be fast, I won't fall down, I promise. Please, I swear to God, please, please."
After a long moment one-eyed man withdraws the panga, leaving a thin line of blood behind. Reluctance is evident on his face. Jacob fights his way to his feet. Derek relaxes a little.
"No more stops," the one-eyed man hisses.
He angrily waves them onwards. The endless march resumes. Veronica trudges painfully onwards. She doesn't doubt the one-eyed man is now ready, even eager, to kill anyone who slows them down.
Her shoulders are burning with agony, she is sure that by now they have actually been damaged. They aren't really walking that fast any more, they physically can't, but no matter how fast she inhales she just can't get enough oxygen, this air seems almost too thick and damp to breathe. A crippling headache has grown behind her eyes. At least the blisters that line her feet have finally gone numb.
She doesn't want to die here. That is all she can focus on, the only thing that gives her strength. Maybe she will be killed when they reach their destination; maybe they will do things to her so terrible she will wish she had died on this march; but right now, it seems like the worst thing in the world, the most awful possible fate, to be murdered and left to rot here in this jungle.
What worries her most are her legs. She can't help thinking about the time she witnessed the home stretch of the Los Angeles Marathon, saw runners collapse less than half a mile from the end of the race because their legs simply stopped working. She thinks she may not be far from that point. She is limping badly, her left leg is cramping painfully, and her right leg worries her even more. It doesn't exactly hurt, but she doesn't think it can physically last much longer. Soon it will buckle beneath her and she will no longer be capable of walking.
At some point they stop for a water break. She can't remember how long it has been since the last one, time seems to have warped and melted like that famous Dali painting. She looks up and her heart wilts. Through the curtain of canopy trees she sees the sun directly above them, obscured by a few fast-moving clouds. It's only noon. She won't make it to nightfall, not even close. Beside her, Jacob looks even worse than she does, confused and dazed. His eyes seem to have lost the ability to focus.
"I can't make it," Veronica says dully.
Derek turns to her. Even he looks drained now, but his voice is still strong. "Yes you can. It won't be much further. We must be over the border by now. You'll be fine."
She tries to laugh but it comes out as a whimper. "I sure don't feel fine."
"You will be. I promise."
She manages a sick caricature of a smile. "Thanks."
"Breathe deep, into your belly. It helps."
She nods and tries to follow his advice. After a few dozen inhalations it occurs to her that the water break should be over, the one-eyed man should be harrying them onwards. She looks around. Their abductors are staring warily into the sky, and there is a faint sound in the distance, odd yet familiar.
"Helicopter," Derek breathes, and as he speaks, she too recognizes the growing whopwhopwhop.
The one-eyed man issues a curt command. Someone grabs Veronica from behind and pushes her down. She doesn't need much encouragement to lie face-down, taking her weight from her tortured feet is bliss. The mud is smooth and damp on her cheek, the earth smells rich and full of life.
The helicopter noise grows until it is directly overhead. Veronica wants to just stay where she is and rest, but she makes herself roll to her side and look up. The aircraft is flying low over the jungle, almost directly overhead, hanging in the sky like a huge white insect. The letters UN are written in blue on its side. She wonders if it is a regular flight from the peacekeeping mission in the Congo, or if it is searching for them. That's possible. Eight abducted Western tourists will be big news, worldwide headlines.
She tries to hope, but she knows the helicopter won't see them. From above this jungle looks like an opaque sea of green. But it's at least a sign that maybe someone is trying to rescue them. Maybe a group of park guards and Ugandan soldiers is trying to follow their trail right now. Maybe the rescue mission has pygmies too. Maybe they'll be here any moment now. If only they could somehow signal the helicopter, start a fire or something. There is a cigarette lighter in the half-empty pack of Marlboro Lights in the side pocket of Veronica's cargo pants. She can feel the pack against her leg. She should have told Derek, he could have gotten it out, like he told her to get his Leatherman. But it's not like they could start a fire with these damp ferns and dripping vines anyways.
The helicopter drifts across the sky. Its noise diminishes. After a few minutes the prisoners are dragged back to their feet. Veronica whimpers as she is forced to start walking again. Her legs and lungs feel a little stronger, but her headache has grown so vicious it's making her dizzy, and the blisters on her feet have come back to life and are singing with renewed agony. If only she had broken in her new hiking boots before coming to Africa. If only they had not been kidnapped.
* * *
Veronica has given up any hope of this journey ever ending, she focuses now only on getting through the next few steps, and then the next few, and then the next. She seems to be losing sensation in her legs, but that must be a good thing, because the sensation is mostly pain. Her shoulders keep getting worse, and she is starting to feel pins and needles in her hands. Worst of all is her thirst. They are never given enough water. The vicious pain behind her eyes is almost blinding now. She is vaguely aware this is probably from dehydration. Behind her Jacob is moaning with every breath.
They stumble forward in a collective stupor. Veronica slips and falls several times on the uneven ground, all of them do, but they are all quick to get up as soon as possible. Even in the abyss of their exhaustion they know that tardiness will be met with torture or murder.
Eventually she becomes vaguely aware of a noise like a sighing wind sweeping across the jungle. At first she thinks the drops of water on her face are windblown, but they keep coming, faster and harder, and when she looks up, she sees that the whole sky is dark and full of rain.
It takes less than a minute for this rain to turn into a hammering tropical downpour, falling in thick ropes from the canopy trees, reducing the earth to muck. Veronica is grateful for it. She cranes her neck back and lets the delicious water drip down her throat, easing her thirst. Better yet, it is slowing their progress considerably, they move no faster than a crawl as they slip and stumble onwards through the rain and the mud.
Slowly her head begins to clear a little. Her drenched clothes chafe uncomfortably, and the wet rope on her arms is painful, a ring of blisters has erupted around her wrists. She realizes their abductors' sense of tense urgency has vanished; they are now laughing and joking with one another as they herd their captives onwards. Veronica moans with comprehension. No one will follow their trail across this melting earth; no helicopter can fly through this torrential storm. The rain has erased any chance of pursuit and rescue.
Jacob falls again. It takes him some time to struggle back to his feet, with shaking muscles and unseeing eyes. Diane is still half-naked, her shirt still clumped around her wrists, she has been like that all day. She limps mindlessly onwards, her face blank, like she is no longer really here in any way that matters. Michael behind her stares out at the world as if all he can see is ghosts.
The trail changes, becomes wide and flat and well-worn. The trees too are different, they are all the same kind now, peeling brown trunks from which clusters of enormous tear-shaped leaves erupt like frozen green fireworks. Furled purple flowers dangle obscenely from the tops of the trunks, and tight clumps of bananas hang beneath the leaves. A banana plantation. They have left the wild Impenetrable Forest and entered the settled lands of the eastern Congo. If it makes any sense to call this land of blood and bullets 'settled.'
The rain begins to dissipate. Bolts of brilliant sunlight shine through rents in the dark clouds. The trail leads them up a steep ridge. They are allowed to climb it at their own slow pace, but they are not allowed to stop, and the gruelling ascent reduces Veronica to desperation; by the time she finally reaches the summit, she is groaning with every painful step, wobbling on both legs. At the top the one-eyed man calls a halt.
Veronica blinks tears from her eyes and tries to catch her breath. The plantation ends at the ridgetop, and she can see westward for several miles, across undulating hills partitioned into a madman's checkerboard of brown and green, cultivated plots and stands of banana trees. None of the plots are large; this is subsistence farming. She sees a few figures moving in the distance, working the fields. In the distance a tin roof glitters in a shaft of sunlight. Much closer, on the downslope of the ridge, stands the most basic human structure she has ever seen, a misshapen one-person hut made of heaped mud and leaves.
The one-eyed man waits inside the plantation's treeline, watching the sky carefully, listening. Then he hustles them further onwards. The trail leads between fields of some knee-high, grassy crop. A little past the mud igloo they veer into the fields, down and then along the base of a steep and stony incline that eventually becomes a sheer rock face punctuated by a pale waterfall. They are led up to and then straight through this curtain of water. Veronica has no strength left with which to be surprised. She barely feels herself getting wet again.
There is a cave behind the water, a stone chamber the size of a ballroom. The light that filters through the water is dim and flickering. The cave is carpeted by unstable rocks the size of grapefruits, and Veronica falls almost immediately, bruising her hip. She struggles desperately back to her feet. The captives are led stumbling to the back wall. There is nowhere left to go, but Veronica stands uncomprehending for a long time, dazed and soaked, before she begins to understand that their awful journey is over, that this cave is their destination and their prison.
* * *
The gunmen sit in a tight circle near the waterfall. The eight captives sit in line near the back wall of the cave, as far from their abductors as possible. At first Veronica focuses on regaining her breath and strength. Her shoulders still hurt enormously, there is an odd crawling sensation all down her arms and hands, and her wrists have been chafed bloody by the wet ropes wrapped around them, but none of this matters compared to the sheer bliss of being able to sit in one place without standing or walking.
Eventually she recovers enough to wonder and fear what comes next. She looks warily at their captors. They too sit slumped on rocks, exhausted and triumphant. It doesn't look like anything is going to happen anytime soon.
On top of all her other agonies, she is direly hungry. She has two Snickers bars in her cargo pants, but no way to get them, unless -
"Derek," she murmurs. They are all still roped together, he is perched on a rock only a few feet away.
He twitches as if roused from a trance. "Yes?"
She hesitates. Maybe eating now isn't such a good idea. Maybe the candy bars will be needed more later. And bringing them out now will raise the issue of whether she should share them. On the other hand, she's sure at some point they'll be searched, and she doubts she'll be allowed to keep her Snickers then. "I've got two chocolate bars in my pants. The side pocket, left side. Can you -"
He nods. She stands with a grunt, moves over to sit next to him, brings her leg against his hands. Her khakis are soaked, and torn in a dozen places. He reaches into her pocket, produces a Snickers bar, strips it quietly of its wrapper, and lifts his bound arms up behind him as high as he can. She bends over, keeping her body between the treasure and their abductors, and grabs it with her mouth. Derek turns around to face her. She offers him the other end, leans her face towards his. He takes the other end of the chocolate bar in his mouth, bites it in half. It is almost a kiss.
They chew meditatively. It is the most delicious thing Veronica has ever tasted. On the other end of their group, Michael and Tom are with some difficulty redressing Diane in her crumpled shirt. Jacob has almost passed out where he sits. Susan and Judy are speaking, quietly, but there are tears streaming down Judy's broad cheeks.
"We should give the other one to the others," Derek says quietly.
She nods.
"Can you get my Leatherman?"
They twist their bodies again, arranging themselves so her hands can reach his belt. Her fingers are clumsy, it takes her a few attempts to open the button and pull out the multi-tool, but she manages to palm it.
"They'll search us eventually," he murmurs. "Hide it under a rock."
She nods, selects an appropriately dark hollow, and with some difficulty squats down and deposits the Leatherman there. Derek nods with approval as she sits back up on her rock. The tool is invisible to the casual eye.
There is a roar of delight from their African abductors. Veronica turns and sees that one of the pygmies has just entered the cave, carrying four large bottles of Primus beer in a woven basket. He speaks to the one-eyed leader in a dispassionate voice, conveying a message, as the beer is passed around. The leader frowns, dismisses the pygmy with a contemptuous wave, and looks over to his prisoners.
Veronica freezes as his eyes fix on her, and then move to Susan. A long moment passes. Then the one-eyed man gets to his feet, walks over to the prisoners, and stops in front of the British girl. Susan stares down at the ground, as if pretending he doesn't exist. She is trembling. All conversation has ceased.
The one-eyed man grabs Susan by her hair and pulls her wincing to her feet. Then he draws out his panga, severs the ropes that connect Susan to Judy and Jacob, and begins to drag the blonde girl away, towards the waterfall. Veronica stares in horror. There is nothing they can do. She knows she will be next.