Scoop - A journalist's peaceful bush break becomes a holiday horror story
The sound of the engines lowered as the plane lost height and the brown and green tapestry of Zimbabwe stretched out below with the Zambezi ribbon threading through it. Suddenly there it was: the Smoke that Thunders, Mosiotunya. Luke felt a shiver of excitement as the plane touched down and taxied to a stop. It had been several years since he’d been to Victoria Falls but he could feel the familiar tingle of magic and smelled the warm earthy aroma of the bush as he walked across the tarmac. Luke was a journalist on leave from Aljazeera News and had promised himself a few days game spotting in Botswana. He was to make the ongoing journey by road from Victoria Falls to the campsite.
Outside the airport he greeted Enoch, his African host, who led him to a four wheel drive. Luke swung his grip into the back of the jeep and climbed in to join his two travel companions, a friendly South African in a many pocketed bush suit and a smiling moonfaced China man with an expensive zoom camera slung around his neck.
‘Good to meet you. I’m Maurice Van den Berg.’ The South African held out his hand to Luke who shook it and introduced himself.
‘Luke Lessing. Glad to be here.’
‘And I’m Lan Cheng,’ said the Chinese man leaning forward to shake hands. ‘Delighted to make your acquaintance,’
They settled down and chatted amicably as the brown bushland and straggly trees rushed by. Maurice worked as a hotel manager in Pretoria and Lan said he was a Civil Engineer working on the new highway system in Johannesburg
After some hours travelling along sand road they stopped at a guesthouse for the night where they were shown to their thatched cottages overlooking the Zambezi. There was just time to shower away the dusty journey before dusk fell and the appetising smells of a braaivleis drew everyone out onto the lawn in front of the main guest house where steak and boerewors sizzled on a grill and salads were laid out on a trestle table. They sat under a velvet canopy of stars around a huge log fire getting to know one another whilst getting slowly drunk on Castle lager. Luke put his head back and closed his eyes
‘You mus’ pick up some ‘mazing stories in your job,’ Maurice was beginning to cut his words. ‘Bet ah could tell you stuff ‘bout South Africa. Make your hair curl,’ He nodded and smiled knowingly at Luke.
Luke’s ears pricked up. It was hard to forget his journalistic training. His ex-wife had divorced him because she complained he was always working, even on holiday.
‘Yeah,’ continued Maurice, more to himself than to anyone else. ‘Palabora. Now there’s a place. Lots o’ fancy technology, lots o’ nuclear power stuff. Don’ wanna mess with that lot.’
‘That so?’ Luke continued to look up at the stars but he sniffed a story and his ears were like radar.
‘Another week an’ all hell’s gonna let loose,’ went on Maurice.
‘How so?’ murmured Luke, still staring at the sky, seemingly disinterested.
Maurice’s voice lowered to a whisper and he looked around furtively. Lan was helping himself to sweets from the nearby trestle.
‘The Chinese.’ Maurice whispered. ‘They’re sending a team to break in an’ steal information. My girlfrien’ works for the Chinese Embassy.’
Lan came and stood next to Luke. As always he was smiling and his face betrayed nothing. Luke wondered if he had heard what Maurice had said, but if he had he didn’t show it.
‘It’s been a long day,’ observed the Chinaman, ‘but now I must bid you goodnight.’ He bowed politely, then left them.
Somewhere along the river Luke heard the melancholy sound of a hippo grunting to its mate. He turned his face to the sky again and relaxed. His next scoop was in the bag, but it could wait. There was no signal for his mobile. Time now to enjoy a peaceful few days away from the hurly burly of interviews and deadlines.
Early the following day, after a hearty breakfast, they were on their way again. Several hours later the vehicle turned off the dusty highway and stopped in a clearing. Enoch miraculously produced a big red cool box from the rear of the jeep filled with ice cold beers and miniature bottles of wine. They stood sipping their drinks in silent awe as the sky slowly turned from apricot to rust, and the sun, like molten copper, slipped below the horizon. Within seconds the spectacle was over and daylight was dimming. They needed to get going before it got dark.
The heavy vehicle bumped and rocked down an uneven track between trees and ant hills. They almost missed a sleepy she-lion camouflaged against the sandy backdrop, dozing on a sun-warmed ant hill. She watched them go by with half closed eyes, seemingly unalert but ready to spring.
Suddenly there it was; a clearing with a circle of little round bubble tents; their home for the next few days.
Luke crawled into his tent dragging his luggage with him. He unrolled his sleeping bag and lay down on top of it to catch a nap before dinner. Soon he was enticed from his slumbers by the succulent aromas of barbecued steak and boerewors. It was time to enjoy the camaraderie of a bushland braai once again. Afterwards, sitting around the dying embers of the camp fire, they swapped animal stories until, drugged with wine and fatigue, they stumbled off to their tents.
Lulled by the chirruping of crickets, good food and wine Luke was soon asleep but was awoken by a screech. He switched on his torch and looked at his watch, 1a.m. He wasn’t quite sure if he’d dreamt it, but no. There it was again. A long piercing shriek and the mocking laughter of a hyena. He thought of the lion they had seen earlier and was thankful to be within the safety of his tent. Warily he checked that the zipper around the door flap was secure, then turned over and went back to sleep.
They ate breakfast at 5am and then gathered to go out on a walking safari. Enoch was an expert tracker and knew intuitively where to find the best animal sightings. He shrugged into the straps of his knapsack and slung a rifle over his shoulder just in case. But there was someone missing. Where was Maurice?
‘He’s probably gone to the bog,’ said Luke. ‘He had a skinful last night. I’ll go and fetch him.’
He ran the fifty yards over rough ground to the canvas latrines.
‘Maurice, we’re ready for off.’ No reply. Luke had a bad feeling as he got closer with no sign of the South African. Then he saw it; a smear of blood along the flap of the tent and beyond it Maurice’s body, his face torn to shreds and his chest covered in blood.
Luke gagged, then staggered back to the others, his face ashen. ‘He’s over there,’ he said brokenly. ‘His face is all chewed up.’
‘Stay here!’ ordered Enoch. He cocked his rifle and ran across to the latrines. There was no doubt. A tragedy had occurred but it wasn’t safe for them now. They would have to abandon camp. Once an animal had tasted human blood it couldn’t be relied upon not to attack again.
He ran back to the group. ‘We’ll have to leave. Get your stuff and meet me at the jeep. We’re returning to Vic Falls.’ He took out his walkie talkie and radioed his base for someone to come and remove the remains.
Sitting in the jeep Luke’s journalistic brain began to tick. Had it been an animal, or had someone found it expedient to get rid of Maurice van den Berg? Lan sat on the other side of the jeep, still with that innocent smile, but his cold narrow eyes never left Luke’s face. Was it possible that he wasn’t who he said he was, that he’d heard Maurice talking the other night? The information Maurice had given was sensitive. The Chinese wouldn’t want it to get out to the world. Then another thought struck him. How safe was he? He knew too much! He’d be watching his back from now on.
They arrived at the border and once through immigration Luke decided to abandon the jeep in favour of a taxi. A Volkswagen kombi was waiting to take fares to Vic Falls. He managed to hide himself amongst the crowds of Africans and paid his fare to the pushy African taxi driver.
Very soon they were bumping away down the rough road close to the river in the direction of the Falls and he felt safe. African taxi drivers were renowned for taking risks and this one was no exception. They were low flying - but so was the jeep which Luke spotted coming up beside the taxi. Lan’s moon face stared at him through the window, his smile now replaced by an evil grimace. Enoch was driving but Lan had a gun pressed to the back of his neck.
The jeep passed them and pulled across in front of the taxi causing the driver to curse and pull up in a cloud of dust. Lan jumped down and came round to the window lifting his gun and aiming it at Luke who just had time to dive onto the floor and crawl between the seats to the door, before a volley of bullets smashed through the glass.
By the time he reached the door he was covered in the blood of his fellow passengers. He jumped down the steps onto the road leaving a crowd of hysterical Africans screaming in terror. He ran into the bush and zigzagged through the trees but the sound of twigs snapping behind him told him he had to find a hiding place quick, but where?. He hauled himself up into the branches of a fever tree. Peering down he spotted Lan running through the trees fifty yards away.
Then it happened. There was a low rumbling growl and Luke looked up. A leopard was stealthily creeping towards him. Lan below and the leopard above, where now? Luke leapt for a branch sticking out from an adjacent tree and managed to hold on. He edged his way along and climbed into the bole of the tree. But he had to get down. The leopard still had him in its sights. He could hear the gurgling of the river below him. A short drop and he was at the water’s edge.
Lan heard the splash and came running towards him. He fired and missed, but the noise woke a sleeping crocodile which slithered from its muddy bed. Luke saw it and had time to wade further downstream in the shallows but Lan only had one thought, to get rid of Luke Lessing. He plunged into the water and - SNAP! The croc’s strong jaws clamped around his arm forcing him to let go of his gun.
Lan’s screams followed Luke as he ran back to the road where he hailed a passing land-rover and told the incredulous American driver that he’d managed to escape from a man-eating lion. Impressed the driver told him to ‘hop in buddy’. Two hours later after Luke had woven an elaborate story about how he’d grappled with a hungry lion, the American dropped him at the hospital in Victoria Falls. What a story to tell the folks back home.
Back in civilization once more Luke managed to get a signal to send a report to his news desk:
Chinese plan secret attack on Palabora Nuclear Power Station.
Special report by Luke Lessing.
Later at the Victoria Falls Hotel he cleaned himself up and went to the bar for a well- earned beer. Job well done. The rest was up to his Editor to sort out.
The End
Copyright 2016 by Wendy Breytenbach (or Jane Maxwell). All rights belong to the author and material may not be copied without the author’s express permission.
Bullied - A lesson for children of all ages
Evi let out a relieved sigh as she limped out through the gates of St Martin’s Junior School, holding her side as if in pain. She had been to see Miss Harrison who said it was OK for her to leave school early, and now she was looking forward to being at home in the sanctity of her own garden playing hide and seek with her little sister. She loved her little sister. Lily was so pretty and petite; the complete opposite to herself.
She felt a stab of humiliation as she thought of what had been happening at the dinner table for the past few weeks. Trestle tables were erected in the school hall every dinner time and two top class monitors sat each end to serve the younger children. How she wished she could be moved away from the “big boys” on her own table to a different table, but she was too scared to say anything, and so she was doomed to suffer this misery forever. Well she wasn’t standing for it any longer. Humiliation had changed to indignation. She’d pretend to be ill for the rest of her life if that’s what it took to stay at home, just like Beth in “Little Women”. She’d just finished reading “Little Women” and loved the way Beth’s older sisters cossetted their sickly younger sister. Yes, she’d be like Beth enjoying being pampered by her four big sisters.
Once out of sight of the school gate Evi lost the limp and walked with a confident air past Mr.Bromley’s sweet shop where she and her friends bought sherbet and liquorice sticks from huge jars, through the park where they played on the swings and slide (sometimes until their mothers came angrily to the park gates to drag them home for their tea) and finally she came in sight of her own safe, solid family home. Now she became a little less confident. What would her mother say when she came through the door at half twelve? Once again she adopted a painful limp and a grimace as she lifted the latch of the back door into the kitchen. Her mother looked up from her ironing.
‘And? What are you doing here?’ she asked in surprise. ‘I didn’t know it was a half day.’
Evi took a deep breath. ‘Miss Harrison sent me home cos I wasn’t well.’
‘And what’s wrong with you? You were perfectly alright this morning,’ she said unsympathetically. Mrs Robinson knew that her fifth offspring was a healthy nine year old with very few visits to the doctor. She put down the iron, came over and felt her daughter’s brow.
‘No temperature,’ she said suspiciously. ‘So what’s wrong?’
‘It’s my back,’ moaned Evi bending over like an old lady and rubbing her side. She’d seen her gran do that and felt it would be a good touch. ‘It came on all of a sudden in P.T.’
‘Rubbish!’ said her mother. She looked at her daughter more sympathetically ‘Come on now,’ she cajoled, ‘Tell me what’s really wrong.’ She knew her daughter well. Lying wasn’t in her nature - and neither was acting.
Evi let out a huge sob. All it needed was a bit of sympathy and she forgot all about her plans for life long invalidity. Her mother put her arms around her lovingly.
‘What’s wrong love?’ she asked again more gently.
In a torrent of tears Evi told her mother all about the last few painful weeks at the dinner table; how the “big boys” had cruelly humiliated her and how they had mocked her size and called her names.
‘They called me Ugly Mug and Fatty,’ she gulped, sobbing at the memory of their cruel jibes. ‘I don’t want to go back to that school ever again, Mum. Please let me stay at home with you and Lily.’
Mrs Robinson shook her head. ‘Ah love. You’re not ugly and you’re not fat. Take no notice. They’ll soon stop if you ignore them.’
‘But they won’t, Mum.’ Evi began to wail more loudly at the thought of going back to tolerate more abuse’
‘Come on,’ said her mother. ‘Get your coat on. We’re going to see Mr Riley.’
With heavy feet and a feeling of despair Evi allowed herself to be led back to school. It was now mid-afternoon, and as they approached the school she could hear the clamour of children’s voices in the playground. Mrs Robinson marched her daughter to the headmaster’s room and tapped lightly on the door. A voice called ‘Come in’ and Mr Riley’s kindly, bespectacled face looked up from his desk.
‘Hello Mrs. Robinson. Please sit down. I hear Evi went home sick. Is she OK now?’
Evi’s mother told him about the bullying at the dinner table. The headmaster frowned. He wouldn’t tolerate unkindness amongst his pupils.
‘Come and tell me who they are,” he said, leading Evi to the window overlooking the playground.
Eventually she spotted them. ‘Those two.’ she said timidly, pointing to two boys lounging against a wall whispering to each other.
‘Don’t worry, Mrs Robinson. I’ll deal with this. Go back to your classroom now, Evi. They won’t bother you again.’ He nodded at the child kindly and smiled at her mother.
The whistle went for end of play, and as Evi made her way back to class she saw Mr Riley go over and address the two bullies sternly. They hung their heads as he led them towards his office to receive their punishment. Evi felt as if a cloud had lifted. She knew they would never call her names again and she went back to class with a lighter heart.
The memory of those nasty words uttered by cruel thoughtless children faded. But the damage was done. She never really believed it when people told her she was beautiful,
which was a shame,
because she really was,
both inside and out.
The End
Copyright 2016 by Wendy Breytenbach (or Jane Maxwell). All rights belong to the author and material may not be copied without the author’s express permission.
Sniffer - A shaggy dog story
Grandad went down to the pub. On his way home he saw a spaniel just like his lost dog Sniffer so he picked it up and staggered home with it.
'What've you got there, Grandad?' asked Sid.
'It'sh Shniffer,' slurred Grandad. 'Ah found 'im wanderin’ about artside the pub.'
'It ain't Sniffer, yer silly ole beggar!' shouted Sid. ' ’E's too fat. And what's more ‘e's a girl. Yer've got t' take it back'
But Grandad was having none of it. He was convinced it was Sniffer and the dog slept on his bed for the next two nights.
When Grandad was sober enough to see sense Sid bundled him and the dog into his clapped out Ford Escort and off they went in search of the pub. After driving around most of the pubs in the East End Grandad reckoned he'd found the right one and Sid let the dog out of the car. It immediately put its nose to the ground and set off home with Sid and Grandad following it.
Soon it stopped outside a house and Sid knocked on the door. A woman opened it and was overjoyed when she saw the dog.
'Oh you've found my baby,' she cried, 'Thank you so much. Come to Mummy Amelia.'
Thinking he might get a reward Grandad told her he'd found the dog wandering on the main road amongst the traffic. At first he thought it was his lost dog, but realised it wasn't so brought it home.
The woman told him she had asked the Head Teacher at the local primary school to get the children to look out for her dog and bring it home for a small reward. Grandad’s eyes lit up.
'So if they find a dog like mine, it has to be yours, and here’s the reward I promised them,’ she handed Grandad a two pound coin! He was just a bit disappointed but he left his phone number with her just in case.
The next day there was a phone call.
'I think the children have found your dog,' the woman said. 'Please will you come and get him'
Once again the Ford Escort rattled around to the lady's house.
As they turned into her street they saw a crowd of little boys outside the house, each one with an identical spaniel on a string. But none of them was skinny enough to be Sniffer.
‘Turn the car round quick!’ shouted Grandad. ‘There’s at least twenty quidsworth there!
The following day the Daily Mail carried the following headline: POLICE INVESTIGATE DOG SNATCH RING IN EAST END
Grandad is now lying low until the dust settles!
The End
Copyright 2016 by Wendy Breytenbach (or Jane Maxwell). All rights belong to the author and material may not be copied without the author’s express permission.