Hunters in the night
Chapter two – The Village
Standing on the small train platform of Mwisho Wa Maji Henry watched the uncoordinated locals help unload much of the train's cargo.
They were reckless, and when it came to the young men handling Henry's bags and equipment, they very poorly dropped the large travel trunk bearing his rifles, "Careful with that boy!" Henry called.
The open eyed dark face of a young man, no older than eighteen, looked up in terror as Henry made his way over to the scene.
Henry shook his head and pointed at the trunk.
"Do you have any idea what's in that?"
The boy slowly shook his head from side to side.
"Exactly," Henry leaned over the porter. "You never know what's in a box until you open it."
The thin boy looked up at Henry, shielding his eyes from the sun blazing overhead.
"It could be glass, it could be gold, and it could even be bloody dynamite. So,"
He knelt down to level his eyes with that of the porter, then his voice rose as he finished, "Handle all things with care!"
Standing back Henry looked around at the stopped men all staring at him.
He curled his lip and flared his nostrils; he summoned his old martial experience and emulated his former Corporal of Horse as best as he could recall; "What on Earth are you people staring at! Lions will be at you all if you keep standing around here!"
As soon as he invoked the possible appearance of the Lions the commotion on the platform resumed at a double quick pace.
Earlier, from seeing the blunder the porter had made the station master quickly made his way down the platform towards Henry. He was a man of average height, though he was rather rotund, he was middle aged and his suit was rather tightly fitting.
His hat was a light beige, straw derby, and complimented well his checkered brown suit.
The station master announced loudly to Henry as he approached, "So terribly sorry sir! But those damned Lions have my lads most distressed as you could imagine!"
The portly station master was white, and his beard was a brilliant red, "Though one would imagine generations of living with Lions might have gotten rid of the fear of them? Eh? What what!"
Henry nodded as the station master extended his hand, "Basil Lovejoy, at your service sir!"
Taking hold of the man's sweaty palm Henry firmly shook it, without making a reaction to the sweat, as a gentleman ought to.
"Henry Nichols," He smiled, "I hear you've been having a Lion problem, what say you?"
The round jovial Basil nodded, "Aye, you could say that yes. By God one of the bastards tore ol' George in half I say."
Basil pushed the side of his jacket out of the way to reveal a revolver holstered to his side.
"I swear if it weren't for my wife's gift here we may well have lost the old chap I say, what what."
Henry raised an eyebrow, "Really? You saw the beast?"
Basil shook his head, "No… unfortunately, I only heard it. My cabin is right beside the office you see, and the commotion, the yelling and the shooting… It woke me up."
He laughed, "Why I knew it was bloody serious so I jumped out of bed, grabbed my pistol and I am not ashamed to say it! I charged headfirst into the fray in my skivvies I say!"
Henry couldn't help but open his mouth in surprise at the brash stupidity he had just heard.
Basil laughed at Henry's expression, "Hah! I admit it was probably a very dangerous thing to do, but I may have had a dram or two to get to bed, and well… I thought what the hell; maybe a few shots fired in inebriation might actually hit the bastard! Eh?"
"You scared it off then…"
Basil nodded, "Aye, then I and a few of the locals entered the office and found our master George in quite a state let me assure you!"
Basil smacked the handle of the revolver, "Ever since then I haven't gone anywhere without this'n here."
Henry nodded, he could certainly understand…
"Forgive me saying but, you're the station master?"
Basil smiled and nodded, "Aye."
"Huh, I was expecting a local in such a position."
Basil waved his hand, "Oh no, there was a local previously but the cheeky blighter kept letting people get aboard without paying, ha!"
Basil pointed and spoke a garbled Swahili phrase to a few of the porters before continuing.
"The railway company sent me here to oversee the whole line, station by station, until quality was reassured they said what what."
Henry nodded, "I hate to impose… but… Might I steal a few of your men?"
Turning to their side the porter had made a neat pile of Henry's trunk and his few bags. "I'll be buggered if I'm carrying all my equipment to the village."
Basil shook his head and raised a hand, "Not at all my man!"
"Niwali! Josoon! Pick up Mister Nichol's luggage here! Double quick!"
Henry raised an eyebrow; he'd never heard such names for Kenyans before.
Sensing his confusion Basil explained, "Oh I'm going from station to station so often I don't find it helpful to learn everyone's names… So I give them all one for the duration of my stay."
Henry furrowed his brow and looked off to the side, 'Probably not the most efficient thing to do…'
Basil nodded as his men took up Henry's bags, "As soon as I'm able I'll look for you in the village, eh?"
Henry followed the two porters as they carried the luggage down the platform and towards the small foot path leading to the village. Turning back to Basil he nodded, "After I see George I'm sure I can rely on you for the lay of the land."
Basil took off his hat and waved it to Henry before turning to begin directing his poorly motivated staff.
Henry laughed to himself as he looked forward towards the village, 'That chap's got a considerable assignment ahead if he's really going station to station…'
As the three men walked closer to the village the signs of the nightly attacks became much more apparent.
The village had been surrounded by a fence of improvised stakes and bushels of whistling thorn. A contemporary of Henry's, a man by the name of Patterson, had recommended that 'bomas' made of whistling thorn coupled with fires and sentries had aided his defence against lions at Tsavo.
Henry had longed to meet Lieutenant-Colonel Patterson but each time Henry was in London he forgot to call on Patterson's office.
Shaking his head Henry looked as there were holes ripped through the fences at regular intervals, and that the bomas were cut through as well.
Above the colonial station the Union Jack flew proudly, unaware of the carnage that had been going on below her bright colours.
Henry tilted his head in acknowledgement after making eye contact with the empire's symbol and took a deep breath as he followed the porters through the trashed gate of the boma fence.
Entering into the small village square Henry took stock of the buildings built around the colonial station.
There were many homes, huts and cabins built in the traditional style, but in addition to George's office there were two other British style buildings, a small trade post and a two-story home with a small pigpen attached to its side.
The porters looked to Henry expectantly as they held his luggage.
Henry took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow, not even an hour off the train and he was already getting grimy…
After cleaning the bridge of his nose he spoke in Swahili to the men. "I'll see to my Officer Heathcliffe, and then I'll have you gentlemen paid. Understood?"
The two workers looked at each other before nodding.
"You can leave the luggage there, to the side of the doorway."
Henry hesitated before approaching the door of the office building. Steeling himself he took a breath and grabbed the door handle.
Pushing it firmly he entered the one room building.
Once inside he saw several people crowded around something on the floor.
"Hello?" He called.
Turning to see the white man several of the locals smiled and turned back to what they were looking at, chattering away in Swahili.
Amongst the crowd of dark faces the white haired head of a Caucasian poked up.
"Henry Nichols I presume?" The voice asked.
Taking his hat off Henry took a few slow steps forwards. "That's correct…"
The white man stood up and shooed out the five locals who were in the room, he spoke using both Swahili words and English.
Eventually the locals left the building and as they passed Henry he could finally see what they had crowded around.
George was lying on an improvised stretcher on the floor.
Upon seeing his friend Henry felt shot with a pain in his chest.
George was deathly pale, his lips were slightly blue and around his eyes and ears his flesh was bright red.
Then Henry saw his chest. Though it was covered by bandages George's chest was gravely injured. The bandages were soaked, both from George's sweat, but also from the wounds leaking through the cloth.
The white haired Caucasian man spoke again, "I'm Doctor Avery… At present I'm doing all I can for him, but…"
He looked down at George.
"He's in a sorry state I'm afraid."
Henry cleared his throat and at first his voice came out quietly, before he coughed.
"How… ahem, is it infection?"
The doctor nodded, "Claws are truly disease ridden things, since animals don't clean like you or I clean our fingernails, the flesh of each kill gets lodged under their deadly weapons…"
The doctor smirked… "Though, I'm sure I don't have to tell a hunter like yourself that…"
Pointing back behind Henry and out the door Avery continued, "Those people out there say they tried their best, but… they went straight to cauterising his wounds. Not before the witch doctor rubbed something into them mind you…"
The doctor shook his head, "Bloody fools…"
Henry shifted his weight from foot to foot.
"Will he live?"
The doctor sighed, "I have seen men come back from worse… miraculously…"
Henry let out his breath, "Is George going to have a miracle doctor?"
Avery shook his head.
"I am terribly sorry… But…"
He looked back down at George, "No… I don't think he'll be coming back from this."
Henry took a breath sharply as he looked at the weak movement of his friend's chest up and down.
"But, I have been wrong before…"
Avery bent back down and rubbed a wet cloth over George's brow.
George's eyes opened slightly and his lips moved as he began muttering.
Doctor Avery leaned closer to hear him and responded loudly to the question, "Yes George, Henry is here. He's over there by the door chap?"
Pointing towards Henry Avery nodded, "He made it, fear not George everything will be alright, yes?"
Henry took a few more steps closer and knelt beside his friend. George's eyes opened a little more and he managed a smile.
"I've given him a few doses of laudanum; he was in a great deal of pain and delirium earlier." Avery tilted his head to the side as he bared his teeth, "The unfortunate side effect is that it will leave him dazed… Slow to respond and the like…"
Henry nodded.
"It's me George, it's Henry… I got your letter and made my way here as fast as the iron horse would take me."
George smiled again. He began struggling to speak, his chest heaving up and down in desperation as he fought to get his words out.
"I… miss-missed… y-y-you… f-friend…"
Henry felt a horrible choking feeling grip his throat.
"N-nonsense old man, Avery here is a top notch physician. You'll be r-right as rain soon enough old boy!"
Henry tried not to notice the smell coming from the bandages, "You'll be… be up and at 'em boxing again in no time."
George's eyes struggled to stay open as his lids fluttered heavily.
"I missed Henry…" he let out a long breath trying to laugh, "I missed the b… the bea… the bastard…"
Henry nodded and brought his palm to rest on George's shoulder.
"Adimu… the b-boy… Adimu…"
George's eyes closed and his breathing slowed as he drifted out of consciousness.
Avery wiped the cloth across George's brow again before speaking.
"Adimu is George's pet of sorts… The boy has barely left his side the whole time since his injury."
Henry nodded, "When George was still lucid, and before his injuries really got the better of him he wrote you a letter."
Pointing upwards Avery continued, "The boy Adimu won't let anyone else near him, currently he's on the roof with George's rifle."
Henry shook his head as he looked towards a ladder resting against the wall and a straw hatch in the roof.
"He's been waiting all day for you…" Avery chuckled as he rewet the cloth in a small wooden bowl. "I imagine the lad's fallen asleep by now."
Henry took a breath and rubbed his jaw, before using his sleeve on his wet eyes.
"Do not let my friend die Avery…"
Standing Henry walked to the ladder and took hold of either side of it before beginning his climb.
Opening the straw hatch slowly Henry tentatively looked around the roof. He didn't want to be shot in the head by anyone, let alone a boy.
"Adimu?" he called, "Lad, are you up here?"
Sure enough, sitting below the flagpole was the small African boy. In his hand he held a rolled piece of paper and across his legs was George's bolt action.
Henry slowly pushed the straw hatch and whistled.
Adimu came to and looked with wild eyes at Henry.
"Mister Nichols, sir?" He called.
Henry nodded, "Aye… that's correct boy… Now might you pass me that rifle please?"
Adimu quickly stood and walked across the roof towards the hatch, letter in one hand, rifle in the other. He stifled a sob before asking, "Is Mister George still alive?"
"For the moment, yes he is my boy."
Adimu pursed his lips and shrugged, "I was supposed to help Mister George get better but… I can't do anything."
Henry nodded "It's okay lad…" Adimu sat back down on the roof as Henry climbed out of the hatch and towards the small boy. "It's okay…"
Adimu held up the letter and put the rifle onto the floor of the roof.
Taking the letter in hand Henry knelt, "George is a strong man… But I know if you were with him it'd help a lot."
Adimu wiped his eyes, "Mister Doctor Avery said I shouldn't be there?"
Henry looked back down towards the hatch, "I disagree…"
Adimu smiled, "And with George sick, I have colonial authority here."
The boy nodded, "Mister George said you were going to save us… That you would kill the lions…"
Henry felt a twinge, "I can only try Adimu…"
"Mister George has never lied to me… I know you will kill them…"
Henry looked up from the small boy and scanned the surrounding plateau. 'I can try…' his thoughts echoed.
-4-
Sitting in the bough of a tree above a deep gully and clicking loudly a Yautja hunter scratched his thick nails into the bark. His latest expedition was far too risky, and he was very nearly shot.
He'd underestimated the prevalence of firearms.
He expected just one or two men with the weapons… But when the round one came out of nowhere…
That was far too close…
Since the night he'd watched the village from the safety of his perch, monitoring the people coming and going. Then he heard the loud cry of a machine.
The thunderous chugging of a great mechanical device motored across the hot rolling landscape, until it came to a place close to the human village.
While watching the arrival of the train from a distance, the Yautja spied a man speaking with the round one.
'Who might he be?' the hunter thought.
The man, who departed the train, as he entered the village, he seemed… different.
There was a unique air about him.
Something that smelt like… a challenge…
To be honest the Yautja hunter was growing board of just playing in the area and last night he was intent on killing the choice males before finally moving on.
But he was setback; it was a surprise, but an interesting one.
And he couldn't help but tilt his head quizzically as he thought about new strategies to toy with his prey.
Last nights' setback coupled with the arrival of the new man… Why… things had really gotten interesting again.
Not tonight… but maybe tomorrow he'd test out his new quarry.
Yes… tomorrow would definitely have a new treat for him to enjoy.
The Yautja finished carving a small human shaped figure into the bark of the tree before he skillfully descended from his perch.
'I'll be watching that one closely…' he thought before melting from view into the thick grass surrounding the tree.
He clicked and growled to himself.
"I have a good feeling about that one…"
