Too late. His stomach turned over in a despairing convulsion. The radio operator, dressed only in a vest and the bench underpants, was hunched over the radio set on by the far wall of the dugout. He was holding the his microphone to his mouth with both hands, shouting warning into it in English, repeating it for the third time, ig hesitated, the acknowledgement boomed and, as Cra from the speaker, also spoken in clear English.
said the voice of the "Message received and understood," erat or at Brigade headquarters in Harare. "Hold on! We op will reinforce you immediately-" Craig fired a long burst of the AK, and his bulb sing and ripp, smashed into the radio, shattering the hou The unarn the wiring out of it in a glittering tangle.
microphone and cOw el radio operator dropped the against the sandbag wall, staring at Craig, blubbering with terror. Craig swung the AK onto him, but could not force himself to fire.
Instead, the burst of automatic fire came from the passageway behind Craig, startling him, and then for an instant the operator was pinned to the wall by striking bullets and he slid down into a huddle on the floor.
"You always were too soft, Pupho," said the deep voice beside Craig and he turned and looked up at the gaunt naked figure that towered over him, into the scarred and desiccated visage, into the dark, hawk-fierce eyes.
"Sam! Craig said weakly. "By God, it's good to see you again.
he first truck had its entire front section wrecked by the RPG while the rear wheels of the second truck had been destroyed by heavy machine-gun fire. The fuel tanks of both vehicles were registering empty.
As briefly as he could Craig explained to Tungata the plans for getting out of the country.
"Eight o'clock is the deadline. If we don't make it back to the airstrip by then, the only way out will be on foot."
"It's thirty miles to the airstrip," Tungata mused. "There is no other vehicle here. Fungabera took the Land-Rover when he left two days ago."4
"I can pull the rear heels out of the wrecked truck but fuel! Sam, we need fuel." They both looked towards the blazing tank. The flames were still towering into the night sky and clouds of dense, black smoke rolled across the parade ground. In the light of the flames, the dead men lay in windrows where the machine-gun had scythed them down, but there were no surviving prison guards either. They had been torn to pieces and beaten to bloody pulp by their prisoners. How many dead, Craig wondered, and shied away from the answer, for every death was his direct responsibility.
Tungata was watching him. He was now dressed in random items of clothing gleaned from the lockers of the barrack room, most of it too small for his huge frame, and the prison stench still hung around him likea cloak.
"You were always like this," Tungata told him softly, "after an unpleasant task. I remember the elephant culls you would not eat for days afterwards."
"I'll drain the one tank into the other," said Craw quickly. He had forgotten how perceptive Tungata was.
He had recognized Craig's remorse. "And I will get them started on changing the wheels. But, you must find fuel for us, Sam. You mustP Craig turned and limped towards the nearest truck, thankful to be able to evade Tungata's scrutiny.
Comrade Lookout was waiting for him. "We lost fourteen men, Kuphela,"he said.
"I am sorry." God! How inadequate "They had to die one day," the guerrilla shrugged. "What do we do now?" There were heavy wheel-wrenches in the toolboxes of the trucks, and enough men to lift the rear end ho i chock it with timber baulks while they worked. ig supervised the swopping of rear axle and wheels, while at the same time he rolled up his trouser leg and stripped off his leg. The machine-gun bullet had ripped through his aluminium shin, leaving a ragged exit hole in the calf, but ed the sharp the articulated ankle was undamaged.
He tapp, petals of torn metal down neatly with a hammer from tl,toolbox, and strapped the leg back in place. "Now, you JL hold together a little longer," he told it firmly, gave the an affectionate pat and took the wheel-wrench away frc Comrade Lookout who had already cross, threaded two the nuts on the rear wheel of the truck.
An hour later Tungata came striding up to where Craig and his gang were lowering the truck's body onto its cannibalized rear axle. Craig was black to the elbows with thick grease. Sarah hurried to keep up with Tungata. Next to him she seemed slim and girlish, despite the rifle she carried.
"No fuel,"Tungata said. "We've searched the camp."
"I reckon we have fifteen lit res Craig straightened up and wiped the sweat off his face with his shirt-sleeve. It left a smear of grease down his cheek. "That might take us twenty miles. If we are lucky." He checked his watch. "Three o'clock where did the time go? Sally-Anne will be overhead in just over two hours. We aren't going to make it-"
"Craig, Sarah has told me what you have done, the risks, the planning, all of it-"Tungata said quietly.
"We haven't got time for that now, Sam."
"No," he agreed. "I must speak to my people, then we can go." The prisoners who had survived the slaughter on the parade ground gathered around him as Tungata stood on the bonnet of the truck. Their faces were upturned towards him, lit by the harsh glare of the floodlights.
"I must leave you," Tungata told them, and they groaned, "but my spirit stays with you, it remains with you until the day that I return.
And I swear to you on the beard of my father and by the milk that I drank from my mother's breast, that I shall return to you."
"Babo!" they called to hint "You are our father."
"The Shana kanka will be here very soon. You must go into the bush, carry with you all weapons and food you can find and go with these men." Tungata pointed to the little group of guerrillas around Comrade Lookout. "They will lead you to a safe place, and you will wait until I return in strength to lead you to what is rightfully yours." Tungata.