Time To Fly
When Marvin finally reached the basecamp, he was exhausted and covered in sweat, but he had made it. He tottered into the tent which housed the radio. He would call for a helicopter and then he would be out of this hell hole and away from Kotze. He picked up the receiver to make the call, when he heard a voice, from behind.
“If you are calling for the chopper, don’t bother. It’s on its way.”
Marvin slowly put down the receiver and turned around. Kotze was standing in the doorway, his left knee wrapped in a blood-stained cloth. “I watched you sleep last night, lafhartig. I could have taken you out.”
“So why didn’t you?” asked Marvin.
“Like all great jagters, you need to see the whites of their eyes when you pull the trigger.” Kotze winced and shuffled on his injured leg. “You only grazed me, lafhartig,” he continued. “I’m wounded, but I’m still walking. When you try to shoot a jagter, you’d better make damn sure that you do the job right.”
Marvin reached for his rifle, but Kotze quickly pointed his own rifle directly at him.
“Oh, no you don’t!” snapped Kotze. “Hands where I can see them.” Seeing that he was beaten, Marvin slowly raised his hands in the air.
“Unlike you, lafhartig, when I shoot, I do not miss,” Kotze continued. “Do you have a preference for which knee I take out?” Marvin didn’t answer but glared back at Kotze.
“Fair enough,” said Kotze. He closed an eye and took aim and pulled the trigger. Click! Startled, Kotze pulled the trigger again. Click!
“Verdomp!” susurrated Kotze, looking at his rifle in disdain. “It’s jammed!” Marvin’s reprieve was suddenly interrupted by the whirring blades of an incoming helicopter.
“So now what?” shouted Marvin, raising his voice above the noise of the landing helicopter.
“Now… we fight!” yelled Kotze, and rushed towards Marvin with his arms outstretched. His hands found Marvin’s throat and he began to squeeze.
“You disgust me!” snarled Kotze as he strangled Marvin. Gasping for breath, Marvin clutched at Kotze’s hands, trying to loosen his grip. He thrust a hand into Kotze’s face, gauging him in the eye.
“Bliksem!” Kotze shouted, releasing Marvin and stumbling back.
“I should never have come here,” Marvin declared. “I’m sorry that I shot those animals, I’d take it all back if I could, but if there’s one thing I don’t regret, it’s putting a bullet in your leg!”
Enraged, Kotze swung his rifle through the air and knocked Marvin in the stomach. In the same swift movement, he whirled it around and struck him in the back.
“This is less than you deserve!” snarled Kotze, and he kicked Marvin in the ribs. “I don’t like to leave a job unfinished, but it’s time to fly!” and he tore out of the tent. Panting and wheezing, Marvin heaved himself up and, clutching his side, stumbled out of the tent, as Kotze was climbing into the helicopter.
“Oh, no you don’t!” cried Marvin. He leapt upon Kotze, catching him by his wounded leg. “Get off! Get off!” shouted Kotze, trying to pull himself into the helicopter. Marvin struck Kotze’s wound with his fist. Kotze howled in pain and fell backwards out of the helicopter and onto the ground. Scampering over him, Marvin clambered into the helicopter.
“Fly! Fly!” Marvin instructed the pilot.
“What about him?” he asked, as Kotze lay writhing on the ground.
“Don’t worry about him, he’ll get the next one!” The pilot nodded and the helicopter rose into the air.
“I will get you, lafhartig!” shouted Kotze, shaking his fist. “You cannot hide from me. You are no jagter!”
As the helicopter flew over the African savannah, Marvin looked back at Kotze, who was growing smaller and smaller. He sat back in his seat and smiled. All he had heard was, Jagter! and, when he returned home, this would be what he was, what he is. Jagter. The Hunter.
