The Hunted
“Where have you been all this time, big boy?” asked Flora, sweetly.
“Oh, Flora,” replied Marvin. “I’ve been in Africa, but I should have been here with you.”
“Yes, you should have,” said Flora. “Now, how about a kiss?”
Marvin reached out and placed his hand against Flora’s cheek. Her skin was as soft as silk, just as he had always remembered it to be. As Marvin leaned in, he was startled by the sound of thundering hooves. He turned to see a buffalo, charging towards him.
“Jagter!” cried out Flora, and she started to run. Marvin tried to follow her, but he found that his legs wouldn’t move, they were fixed to the ground. Marvin began to panic; the buffalo was getting closer. As it neared him, it opened its mouth and shouted, “You are no jagter!” Marvin closed his eyes and braced himself.
Marvin jolted up and looked around him. There was no sign of Flora nor the buffalo, only the silhouettes of trees and the dying embers of his campfire. He relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief, but he also felt a twinge of melancholy. It was all a dream, and he was still in Africa, alone. He rose and stretched his back. His body was sore from sleeping on the ground and the many kilometers he had walked. He gathered some wood and placed it on the embers, revitalizing the fire. As he watched the flames grow, he sat and thought. It had been two days since he had left Kotze, and by his reckoning it was at least another twenty clicks to the basecamp. He knew that he would reach it before Kotze, and once he did, he would be able to leave Africa and head home.
The sun was rising, giving light to the land. Marvin collected up his gear and put it into his pack. As he doused the fire, he glanced at the ground, and in the dirt, freshly imprinted, was the mark of a boot. Was it there the night before? Marvin couldn’t remember seeing it, but then again, it was dark, and he wasn’t looking all that closely. Marvin bent down to inspect the footprint, and he could tell right away that it wasn’t his. Suddenly, like a knife to the heart, Marvin was struck with fear. No more than a metre from the print were drops of blood. This could mean only one thing; Kotze was here, last night, and he was tracking him. Marvin closed his eyes and breathed deeply. This new development added to his urgency. He was too deep into the wilderness to go anywhere other than the basecamp. There was only one thing to do. Gripping his rifle in his hands, Marvin opened his eyes, set his jaw, and ran.
Marvin ran all day, until he came by a water hole. He was hot and needed water, so he cautiously stepped down to the edge of the water. He was reminded of the watering hole a few days prior, and he thought about the animals he had already shot, the adulation that came with it and, most of all, the power he had felt. Then he thought about the buffalo that had been in his sights, the pity he felt for it and the sudden anger he felt toward Kotze. As he crouched by the water, he looked down at his rifle.
“Horrid thing,” he uttered. “Still, you serve a purpose, especially with Kotze on my tail.”
He was interrupted by a splash in the water, and he looked up suddenly. Was it a crocodile? There didn’t appear to be any other movement in the water. Looking to his right, Marvin saw something dart behind a tree. Instinctively, he grasped his rifle and cocked it.
“I know you’re there!” he cried out. “I’ll shoot, whoever you are!” Marvin waited, expecting a response. Nothing. Not a sound, not a movement. He pointed his rifle into the air and fired three shots. Instantly, flocks of birds scattered from the trees and took flight. Still pointing his rifle at the tree, Marvin resigned, picked up his water bottle, and continued to run.
