"We can't have that," Peter gloated, and Tungata saw his hand reach out towards the charcoal brazier. For the first time Tungata noticed that a thin steel rod, likea poker, had been thrust into the burning charcoal. "When Peter drew it out, the tip glowed red hot.
"This is your absolutely final chance to agree," he said.
"When I touch the creature with this, it will go crazy." He waited for a reply. "You cannot speak, of course. If you agree, just blink your eyes rapidly." Tungata stared fixedly at him through the mesh, trying to convey to him the universe of hatred that he experienced.
""Ah well, we tried," said Peter Fungabera. "Now you have only yourself to blame." He slipped the point of the glowing poker through the mesh and touched the adder with it. There was a sharp hiss of searing flesh, a tiny puff of stinking smoke and the adder went berserk.
Tungata felt the coils enfold his head, pumping and swelling, and then the great body whipped and slashed, filling the confined space of the cage with crazy uncoordi, noted convulsions. The cage banged and jarred and clattered, and Tungata lost control, he heard himself screaming, as terror engulfed him.
Then the snake's head filled his vision. Its jaws flared open, and its bright yellow throat gaped at him, as it struck into his face. The force of the strike stunned him. It hit him in the cheek below the eye, a heavy punch that jarred him so his teeth clashed together and he bit through his own tongue. Blood filled his mouth and he felt the long curved fangs snag into his flesh like fishhooks tugging and jerking, as they spurted jets of deadly toxin into his flesh and then, mercifully, darkness took him and Tungata slumped unconscious against the straps that held him. -V, ou've killed him you bloody idiod" Peter Fungo, hera's voice was s I brill and petulant with panic.
"No, no." The doctor was working quickly.
With the help of the troopers, he pulled the mesh helmet off Tungata's head. One of the troopers hurled the maimed adder against the wall and then crushed its head under the butt of an AK 47. "No. He's passed out, that's all. He was weak from the wall." Between them they lifted Tungata. and carried him to the camp-bed against the far wall. With exaggerated care they laid him on it, and swiftly the doctor checked his pulse.
"He's all right." He filled a disposable syringe from a glass ampoule, and shot it into Tungata's sweat-slicked upper arm. "I've given him a stimulant ah, there! The doctor's relief was obvious. "There! He is coming round already." The doctor swabbed the deep punctures in Tungata's cheek from which watery lymph was oozing.
There is always risk of infection from these bites," the d doctor explained anxiously. "I will inject an antibiotic." Tungata moaned arid muttered, and then began to struggle weakly. The troopers restrained him, until he came fully conscious and then they helped him into a sitting position. His eyes focused with difficulty on Peter Fungabera, and his confusion was obvious.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Comrade." Peter's voi nc ce was o O? more smooth and richly modulated.
"You are now one the privileged few who have had a glimpse of the beyond." The doctor still fussed over him, but Tungata's eyes never left Peter Fungabera's face.
"You do not understand," Peter said, "and nobody can blame you for that. You see, the good doctor hM removed the creature's poison sacs, as you suggested he might have." Tungata shook his head, unable to speak.
"The rat!" Peter spoke for him. "Yes, of course, the rat.
That was rather clever. Whilst he was out of the room the doctor gave it a little injection. He had tested the dosage on other rodents to get the correct delay. You were right, my dear Tungata, we aren't ready to let you go just yet.
Maybe next time, or the time after that you will the ver know for certain. Then of course, we might miscalculate.
There might, for instance, have been a little residual tori-.
in that adder's fangs-" Peter shrugged. "It's all very delicatu this time, next time who knows? How long can yot, keep it up, Comrade, before your mind snaps?"
"I can keep it up as long as you can," Tungata whispered huskily. "I give you my oath on that."
"Now, now, no rash promises," Peter scolded him mildly.
"The next little production that I am planning involves my puppies you have heard Fungabera's puppies, every night you have heard them. I am not sure how we can control them. It will be interesting you could easily lose an arm or a foot it only takes one snap of those jaws." Peter played with his swagger-stick, rolling it between his fingers. "The choice is yours, and of course it only takes one word from you to end it all." Peter held up one hand. "No, please don't tax yourself. There is no need to give an answer now. We'll let you have another few days at the wall to recuperate from this ordeal, and then-" t unga. a had lost track of time. He could not remember how many days he had spent at the wall, how many men he had seen executed, how many nights he had lain and listened to the hyena.
He found it difficult to think further ahead than the next bowl of water. The doctor had judged the amount required to keep him alive with precision. Thirst was a torment that never ceased, not even when he slept, for his nightmares now were filled with images of water lakes and running streams which he could not reach, rain that fell all around him and did not touch him, and raging, intolerable thirst.
Added to the thirst, Peter Fungabera's threat of delivering him to the hyena pack festered in his imagination and became more potent for every day that it was delayed.
Water and hyena they were beginning to drive him beyond the borders of sanity. He knew that he could not hold out much longer, and he wondered confusedly why he had held out this long. He had to keep reminding himself that Lobengula's tomb was all that was keeping him alive. While he had the secret, they could not kill him. He did not entertain for even a moment the hope that Peter Fungabera would keep his promise of sending him to safety once he led them to the tomb.