They went quickly but before they’d gone a kilometre Stratton had to stop to inspect the soles of his feet. They were badly cut in places. With his adrenalin gone, the discomfort was intense.
Yoinakuwa hacked two large leaves from a nearby plant and after trimming the ends he deftly wrapped and secured one around each of Stratton’s feet. Stratton stood and tested them. They felt remarkably comfortable. What was more, the leaf seemed to have a cooling effect on his skin.
Yoinakuwa handed Stratton a couple more leaves, suggesting to him that the current ones would not last for ever, and off they went again.
The footwear lasted well on soft earth but rocky surfaces took their toll and after a couple of kilometres they needed replacing. By the time the leaves needed changing again Yoinakuwa had found some more.
As dawn broke, the general direction in which they were heading became more clear. But Stratton still had no idea where they were. Yoinakuwa marched decisively. Experience had taught Stratton in some situations not to ask and simply to follow. But his anxiety grew with every step. He had to get to the rebel camp and Louisa.
As they left the forest and the early-morning light grew over the horizon the terrain became familiar. Stratton felt sure he had seen the hills before.They began to climb up a steep incline into another forest. Among the trees the ground was rocky and they crossed a track where he noticed some spent AK47 casings. They were shiny, indicating the possibility of a recent firefight.
As they went up the hill Stratton scanned around, trying to recall why he thought he had seen the place before. When he saw a shattered tree, its top half on the ground, he realised where they were. It was the site of the failed ambush, where they had found the hanging rebels.
Stratton ran past the rebels’ ambush position to the top of the rise. He kept on going between the trees, leaving Yoinakuwa behind, to find where his emergency stores were hidden.
The tree with the mark cut into its bark was there and he reached between the roots at its base. He pulled away the earth and leaves and, to his immense relief, found his pack. He looked over at Yoinakuwa who was stone-faced. The old man had known about the pack all along.
Stratton opened it up, untied the waterproof bag and pulled out the pistol sitting on the top, a pair of trousers, shirt, underpants, socks, belt and camouflaged trainers. A side pocket contained a plastic bag with a passport and money, another a medical pack, GPS, compass, water-sterilising bottle, some food and matches.
Stratton took off his dirty underpants and quickly pulled on his clean clothes. As he laced up his footwear he heard movement through the wood. He glanced at Yoinakuwa who was clearly aware of it but had not responded. Stratton picked up his pistol and moved to where he could see the source. Kebowa and Mohesiwa were walking towards them. Behind them was Victor.
Stratton was pleased to see the Frenchman who looked no worse for wear than himself.
Victor grinned broadly on seeing Stratton. They hugged briefly in celebration of their survival.
‘What happened to you?’ Victor asked.
‘I was looking for you when the wrong people found me. What about you?’
Victor sighed as he sat heavily on a fallen tree trunk to take the weight off his sore legs. ‘I made the mistake of accusing Hector of trying to kill Sebastian.’ Victor looked around, recognising the place himself. ‘I wondered why they were bringing me here.Yoinakuwa and his boys seem to have everything worked out.’
Stratton threaded the belt through his trouser loops and attached the holster that his pistol fitted snugly into. A ray of light pierced the treetops as the sun rose over the distant hills. ‘Neravista’s soldiers are going to take out Sebastian’s camp.’
‘Hector has betrayed him.’
‘Steel’s the real manipulator.’
Victor nodded. ‘I always suspected as much. What are your plans now? You want to take me along?’
‘Sure,’ Stratton said, pulling his small pack onto his back. ‘You up to a brisk march?’
‘Why brisk? We have all the time in the world.’
‘They’re going to attack today, Victor.’
Victor looked at Stratton, suddenly aware of his intentions. ‘You’re not going to the border, getting out of this country?’
Stratton realised they had been at cross-purposes and was somewhat disappointed in Victor. ‘I’m going to the camp.’
‘You’re crazy! Neravista will hit Sebastian with everything he has. He’ll kill everyone.’
‘That’s why I’m going.’
‘They’re probably attacking as we speak.’
‘Then there’s no time to waste.’
Victor felt confused. ‘You’re going to get Louisa.’
Stratton checked his compass. He was ready to go but stopped to look at Victor, understanding the Frenchman’s dilemma. ‘I don’t expect you to come. It’s over for you now. You take care of yourself,’ Stratton said, offering his hand.
‘You’re not mad at me?’ Victor asked.
‘Why should I be? There’s nothing you can do. Enjoy France - if that’s where you’re headed.’ Stratton turned to go.
‘Wait,’ Victor called out. ‘Wait. Just one moment.’
Stratton paused, impatient to go.
‘I should go. I’m the brigade second in command.’
‘There’s nothing you can do.’
‘Then why do I feel so damned guilty?’
Stratton had no answer for him. Victor watched him go.
Chapter 9
A battery of four howitzers was lined up in the clearing where the Neravistas had their headquarters, the barrels angled for maximum trajectory. The sky had cleared but everything was still dripping wet. The battery commander glanced at his watch, as he had done every twenty seconds or so for the last few minutes. He stared at the second hand as it jerked its way closer to the top of the hour. He raised an arm and held it there. When the slender hand reached the number twelve he brought it down sharply and the valley shuddered with a thunderous boom as the number one gun fired, mud splashing up from its wheels as it recoiled.
Birds took to the air in every direction as the shell shot out of the clearing and into the sky on its journey away from the earth. It reached its maximum height ten seconds and five thousand metres from the end of the gun before levelling out.
Had the gunner been able to see through the nose of the shell he would have enjoyed a view of a large portion of his country: the interlacing valleys and lush green forests; rocky outcrops and steep ravines; streams and rivers flickering in the sunlight and patches of manicured agricultural squares. As the shell began its descent he would have seen the many snaking trails criss-crossing the countryside and the system of plateaus that was home to the rebel brigades. As the shell dropped closer to the ground he would have been able to make out Sebastian’s camp, the cabins, the stables behind them, the patchwork of tents and campfires and the many tracks connecting them. He would have had to concentrate during the last few seconds because the image zoomed in rapidly as the shell seemed to accelerate towards an open piece of scrubland beyond the tented area.
It struck the ground where it exploded, kicking up a geyser of earth and sending fiery shrapnel in all directions, none of it harming a soul since nobody was within range of it.
Everyone in the camp heard the explosion and those on the outer defences looked back over their shoulders. They all had the same thought: the battle had begun. All rumours and speculations were resolved. The thought that followed immediately was whether anyone had been hurt. Those with family in the tented areas feared for them.
The men inside Sebastian’s cabin hurried out to look in the direction of the explosion. Most of them ran off towards their posts.