They checked their watches, then Garry offered his hand.
“Good luck… watch that bastard.”
Fennel was putting his tool kit in the Land Rover. He got in at the back and sat on the bench seat, staring moodily ahead.
“Sweet type, isn’t he?” Ken grinned. He turned to Gaye and shook hands. They watched him slide into the driving seat. Themba waved a cheerful hand and got in the front seat beside Ken.
Ken drove into the jungle where it was dark enough for him to put on the headlights. He drove slowly, and Fennel wondered how the hell anyone could know where he was going in this dense jungle. Themba was continually directing Ken. Maybe this blackie wasn’t all that of a monkey, Fennel thought. He knew he himself would be helpless on his own, and this thought riled him.
As they progressed, the sun began to come up and Ken switched off the headlights. He was able to increase speed’ slightly. It was a nagging, bumpy ride and Fennel had to hang on.
Themba suddenly pointed and Ken slowed.
“To your right… a rhino!”
Fennel swivelled his head.
Standing not more than twenty metres away was a huge rhinoceros. The ungainly animal slowly turned its head to stare at them. Fennel eyed the big horn and he reached for the Springfield, aware his heart was beginning to thump.
“They’re dangerous, aren’t they?” he asked, his voice low. “That’s the white rhino. He’s docile,” Ken told him. “It’s the black one you have to watch out for.”
He drove on, increasing speed. At this hour the bush seemed alive with game. Herds of impala scattered at the approach of the Land Rover. Two warthogs went crashing into the shrubs, their tails up like periscopes. Black bellied storks watched them from the tree tops. It was as they were nearing the edge of the bush that Themba pointed, and Ken said, “Lions!”
Lying by the side of the track were two full grown male lions. Fennel calculated they would pass within four metres of them.
“You’re not passing those bastards?” he demanded.
“Nothing to worry about,” Ken said cheerfully. “You leave a lion alone and he’ll leave you alone.”
But Fennel wasn’t convinced. He picked up the Springfield, his finger curling around the trigger.
They were nearly on the lions now. Both beasts raised their heads and regarded the on-coming Land Rover with sleepy indifference. Fennel felt sweat on his face. As they passed, they were so close he could have touched the lions with the end of the rifle.
“See?” Ken said. “You don’t have to worry about lions, but you wound one and go in after him and you’ll have a hell of a lot to worry about.”
Fennel put down the rifle and wiped his sweating face with the back of his hand.
“That was too damn close.”
They came out of the jungle on to a dirt road. Themba indicated that Ken should turn to the right.
“This is the road leading to Kahlenberg’s estate… the whole sixty kilometres of it,” Ken said after he had talked with Themba. He looked at his watch. The time was 08.00 hrs. “Themba reckons we’ll get to the edge of the estate in three hours. We’ll radio back to Garry when we get there.”
“Three hours to do sixty kilometres. You nuts?”
“The road’s bad. It could take us longer.”
The road was bad, and gradually deteriorated. It was climbing gently all the time. The night’s rain had softened the surface and the Land Rover began to slide a little. Ahead of them was a very sharp rise and as Ken increased speed for the run up, the back wheels slid and Ken hurriedly steered into the skid just as it seemed they were about to leave the road.
“Watch what you’re doing!” Fennel snarled, startled.
“I can do without a back seat driver,” Ken returned. “Just shut up, will you?”
The Land Rover crawled up the rise and Ken slammed on his brakes when he saw the dip below was full of water and there was another sharp rise to get out of the dip.
“We’re not going through that,” he said and put the truck into reverse, slowly sliding back down the rise. He then drove off the road and on to the tangle of dead branches, shrubs and coarse, rain soaked grass. They hadn’t gone more than ten metres when the rear wheels spun and Fennel felt the truck sink.
Ken gave the engine more gas, resulting only in producing a shower of wet, sticky mud that sprinkled them as the wheels spun.
Themba sprang out and went around to the back. Ken engaged gear while Themba pushed, but they only sank deeper.
Ken turned, and as he disengaged gear, he looked straight at Fennel.
“Let’s get this straight, Lew. Are you with us or are you just a goddamn passenger?”
Fennel hesitated, then got down from the Land Rover. His bull strength combined with Themba’s weight began to tell. There was more splattering of mud, then the tyres got a new purchase and the Land Rover came out of the two holes it had dug. Walking beside it, ready to go into action again, Fennel and Themba, watched warily. Twice the Land Rover skidded but righted itself. They were past the dip now and Ken steered back on the road.
“See what I mean?” he said. “Twenty minutes wasted.”
Fennel grunted and climbed on board. He was breathing heavily. By now the sun was hot and beat down on them. Ken increased speed and they continued to climb, banging and bumping over the stony road, avoiding the water filled pot-holes where he could, and when he couldn’t, banging into them, jolting them all and making Fennel curse.
The road narrowed suddenly and became nothing better than a rough track, strewn with fair-sized boulders. Three times during the next hundred metres, Themba had to jump down and heave the rocks out of the way. They were now crawling at around ten kilometres an hour.
It didn’t look to Fennel as if any vehicle had ever come along this narrow track which kept climbing. Branches of trees hung low, causing both men to keep ducking. Themba was walking ahead now as the Land Rover’s speed was even more reduced.
“You mean we’ve got another fifty kilometres of this bitching road to drive on? Fennel exclaimed as he ducked under another branch.
“That’s about it. According to Themba it gets worse as we go on, but at least we are moving.”
That appeared to be a rash thing to have said for almost immediately they struck a soft patch of ground and before Ken could control the skid, they had slid off the narrow track and the offside wheels slammed down into a gutter.
They stopped.
“Themba came running back as Ken got out of the Land Rover. The two men surveyed the position of the wheels and discussed it together while Fennel got down and lit a cigarette. He felt irritatingly useless. To him, they looked stuck for good.
“Only thing to do is to lift her out,” Ken said.
He began to unload the truck, handing the jerrycans of water and gas to Themba. Fennel got the rucksacks, sleeping bags and his heavy tool bag out.
“Back wheels first,” Ken said.
The three men got grips and at Ken’s shout, heaved up. Their combined strength lifted the wheels and the next heave got the tail of the truck back on to the road.
“I can pull her out now,” Ken said. “You two shove against the side in case she slides in again.”
Three minutes later, the Land Rover was once more on the road. They hastily reloaded, then Fennel said, “I’m having a drink.”
Ken nodded and Themba opened two bottles of beer and a bottle of tonic water for himself.
Fennel looked at Themba.
“You say it’s going to get worse?”
“So he says,” Ken broke in. “No use talking to him, he doesn’t understand English.”
Fennel emptied his bottle of beer.
“Looks like we three have picked the crappy end of the stick, doesn’t it?” he said.