CHAPTER SEVEN
*WARNING: Poachers have been this way.
oOo
The day of the new vet's arrival dawned, and Aramis had volunteered to set off to meet the plane, which was bringing d'Artagnan to his new post.
Neither Porthos or Aramis had met d'Artagnan in person, but they had spoken over Skype, and Aramis and taken him on a brief tour of the animal facility, using the video on his phone. He showed him the clinic, and then went outside to film the animal enclosures. After that, Aramis decided to cross the Garrison compound to the Lodge to show him the communal kitchen and lounge. The tour was abandoned shortly after, when d'Artagnan started to get seasick.
"I thought plastic surgeons had steady hands," he muttered, as the image bobbed up and down. Aramis moved like a cat, but his enthusiasm sometimes got the better of him.
"Well, we do not usually walk around when we are operating," Aramis had smiled, not offended in the slightest. Aramis touched a hand to his forehead in a flourish and gave him a bow, by way of ending the call.
d'Artagnan had laughed and mirrored the farewell. He thought that he would like this man. Once he got the background story on him.
d'Artagnan's friends could tell them that if he had one vice, it was his curiosity to know his colleagues. He wanted back-story and was tenacious about procuring it. If he had not become a vet, he would have been a psychologist; or a detective. He had what his mother called an "enquiring mind."
Athos would grow to call it "intrusive, often bordering on the intolerable."
"One day, he will wake up and find that during the night I was curious about what he would look like with no eyebrows," he had muttered to Porthos, who had roared with laughter, nearly spitting out his coffee.
Now though, as Aramis sat in one of the Garrison's 4 x 4's with his hat low over his eyes, waiting for Treville's aircraft to taxi down their small airstrip; Athos and Porthos were six miles away, standing over the carcass of a female elephant.
"It's recent," Athos said softly, sadly, as he crouched beside the body. His camera swung from the strap around his neck, and he held it still as he rose slowly from her side; his hand momentarily reaching out to gently stroke her flank. A last act of human kindness, to counter her previous brutal encounter with "humanity."
Her tusks had been taken.
Athos had seen this several times on their tours in other parts of war torn Africa, but the sight always broke his heart, as the rest of her was untouched.
Hearing a noise behind them, they turned and Porthos pointed out a young male elephant calf standing with its head down near a group of trees. He was swaying from side to side; his trunk barely reaching the ground.
"Bastards," muttered Porthos.
"We'd better radio this in," he added, as he moved back toward their vehicle.
Athos had stepped back and was looking around the body, checking out the various tracks.
"They didn't even try to cover their tracks," he called over his shoulder, as Porthos reached into the truck for the radio mike.
His mind went back to the men he had seen on the river two months ago. He had had an uneasy feeling as he watched their boat head upriver.
Looking back at Athos's words, Porthos tensed.
There was movement in the bush to the left of Athos and he could tell from the way Athos had stilled that he was aware of it too.
"Get over here," Porthos called as softly as he could, but needing to get his message across.
Athos took a step back and then slowly turned and walked carefully back to the relative safety of the 4x4. Luckily, Porthos had parked between two trees and their vehicle would be fairly safe.
They watched as a small herd of elephants swung through the bush and moved toward the dead female.
They approached her gently, all laying their trunks across her still form.
"The noise they make," breathed Porthos, as they listened to the elephants keening.
"They are mourning," Athos whispered.
They had seen this before too; fortunately not on Heshima. The first time, they had both shed silent tears. It was no different this time.
"They see him," Athos said quietly, as two of the herd's females moved away toward the calf, still rocking from side to side a short distance away.
As they approached him, their trunks wound around his, before moving over his back in long sweeping strokes.
Then, one female gently wrapped her trunk around one of his front legs and pulled him forward and they put him between them as they walked quietly away. The others joined them and they all slowly walked back into the bush, leaving their dead female family member to her natural destruction.
When they were long gone, Athos quietly turned the key in the ignition and they reversed back along the track before finding the trail back to the Garrison.
oOo
When they returned to the Garrison, they met up with Aramis and d'Artagnan and told them what had happened.
"I should go," d'Artagnan said straight away, jumping to his feet.
"It's your first day," Athos replied, holding up his hand. "You have just arrived. I will make a report, and we have taken photographs. I will bring them over later for you. There is no point in going there, unless you specifically wanted to take any samples. She was shot with a large bore rifle, and her tusks were taken."
Porthos threw himself down heavily in a chair in the lounge.
"Bloody poachers," he growled, visibly shaken.
Athos stood leaning against the wall, his arms folded. He was looking at the ground; saying nothing. d'Artagnan saw how Aramis lightly touched his arm as he passed into the kitchen.
"I don't suppose anyone is hungry," Aramis called over his shoulder, "but I will make something, and then one of us will show you around the Garrison, d'Artagnan."
"The Garrison?" d'Artagnan asked, looking up. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Have I walked into an army barracks?"
"If you had, we wouldn't be sittin' 'ere chattin'" Porthos replied, and the mood lightened a little.
Athos kicked off from the wall and followed Aramis into the kitchen, intent on doing something that would take his mind off the horror they had witnessed.
An hour later, the kitchen cupboards had been rearranged and fridge had been cleaned within an inch of its life.
It was Porthos, in the meantime, who showed d'Artagnan around the Garrison.
To be continued ...
