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and sinews had never knitted again. The hand was a dead and insensate
thing.
Using the caution of a natural predator and helped by the newsflashes on
the radio, he had groped his way carefully through the net that was
spread for him, and now he was on Jabulani and he could restrain himself
no longer.
He hit the mud hole at forty and the Chevy whipped and spun, slewing her
back end deep into the mud and high-centring her belly on the soft ooze.
He left her there and went on swiftly through the rain, loping on long
legs. Once he giggled and sucked at his teeth, but then he was silent
again.
It was dark by the time he climbed the kopie behind Jabulani homestead.
He lay there for two hours peering down into the driving rain, waiting
for the darkness.
Once night fell, he could see no lights, and he began to worry, there
should have been lights burning.
He left the kopje and moved cautiously through the darkness down the
hill. He avoided the servants quarters, and went through the trees to
the landing-strip.
He ran into the side of the hanger in the dark and followed the wall to
the side doorway.
Frantically he spread his arms and felt for the aircraft that should be
here, and when he realized that it was not he let out a groan of
frustration.
They were gone. He had pla
striving was in vain.
Growling like an animal, he smashed the fist of his good hand against
the wall, enjoying the pain of it in his frustration, and his anger and
his hatred was so strong that it shook his body like a fever, and he
cried out aloud, a formless animal cry without coherence or sense.
Suddenly the rain stopped. The heavy drum of it upon the iron roof of
the hangar ceased so abruptly that Akkers was distracted. He went to
the opening and looked out.
The stars were swimming mistily above him, and the only sound was the
gurgle and chuckle of ru
There was the glimmering of light now, and he saw the white walls of the
homestead shine amongst the trees. He could do damage there, Akkers
realized. He could find there some outlet for his terrible frustration.
There was furniture to smash, and the thatch would burn, if lit from
inside, the thatch would burn even in this weather.
He stared towards the homestead through the dark sodden trees.
Debra woke in the silence. She had fallen asleep in the midst of the
storm, perhaps as a form of escape.
Now she groped for the warm comforting body of the dog but he was gone.
There was a patch of warmth on the bed beside her where he had lain.
She listened intently and there was nothing but the soft sounds of water
in the guttering and far-off the growl of thunder. She remembered her
earlier panic and she was ashamed.
She stood up from the bed and she was shivering with the cold in her
loose, free-flowing dark blue maternity blouse, and the elastic-fronted
slacks that were adjustable to her expanding waistline. She felt with
her toes and found the light ballet pumps on the stone floor and pushed
her feet into them.
She started towards her dressing-room for a sweater, then she would make
herself a cup of hot soup, she decided.
Zulu started barking. He was outside in the front garden. Clearly he
had left the house through the small hinged doorway that David had built
especially for him in the veranda wall.
The dog had many barks, each with a different meaning which Debra
understood.
A self-effacing woof, that was the equivalent of the watch-man's Ten
o'clock on a June night, and all's well. Or a longer-drawn-out yowl,
that meant, There is a full moon out tonight, and the wolf's blood in my
veins will not allow me to sleep.
A sharper, meaningful bark, Something is moving down near the pump
house. It may be a lion. And then there was an urgent clamouring
chorus, There is dire danger threatening. Beware!
Beware! It was the danger bark now, and then growling through closed
jaws as though he were worrying something.
Debra went out on to the veranda and she felt the puddled rainwater
soaking through her light shoes. Zulu was harrying something in the
front garden, she could hear the growling and scuffling, the movement of
bodies locked in a struggle. She stood silently, uncertain of what to
do, knowing only that she could not go out to Zulu. She was blind and
helpless against the unknown adversary. As she hesitated she heard
clearly the sound of a heavy blow. it cracked on bone, and she heard
the thump of a body falling. Zulu's growls were cut off abruptly, and
there was silence. Something had happened to the dog.
Now she was completely alone in the silence.
No, not silence. There was the sound of breathing a heavy panting
breath.
Debra shrank back against the veranda wall, listening and waiting.
She heard footsteps, human footsteps coming through the garden towards
the front door. The footsteps squelched and splashed in the rain
puddles.
She wanted to call out a challenge, but her voice was locked in her
constricted throat. She wanted to run, but her legs were paralysed by
the sound of the intruder climbing the front steps.
A hand brushed against the wire scieening, and then settled on the
handle, rattling it softly.
At last Debra found her voice. Who is that? she called, a high panicky
cry that ran out into the night silence.
Instantly the soft sounds ceased. The intruder was frozen by her
challenge. She could imagine whoever it was standing on the top step,
peering through the screening into the darkness of the veranda, trying
to make her out in the gloom. Suddenly she was thankful for the dark
blouse and black slacks.
She waited motionlessly, listening, and she heard a little wind shake
the tree-tops, bringing down a sudden quick patter of droplets. A
hunting owl called down near the dam. She heard the thunder murmur
bad-temperedly along the hills, and a nightiar screeched harshly from
amongst the poinsettia bushes.
The silence went on for a long time, and she knew she could not stand it
much longer. She could feel her lips begi
and fear and the weight of the child were heavy upon her bladder, she
wanted to run, but there was nowhere to run to.
Then suddenly the silence was broken. In the darkness there was the
sound of a man giggling. It was shockingly close and clear, and it was
a crazy sound. The shock of it seemed to clutch at her heart and crush
the air from her lungs. Her legs went weak under her, begi
shake, and the pressure on her bladder was intolerable, for she
recognized the sound of that laughter, the sick insane sound of it was
graven upon her mind.
A hand shook the door handle, jerking and straining at it. Then a
shoulder crashed into the narrow frame. It was a screen door, not built
to withstand rough treatment. Debra knew it would yield quickly.
She screamed then, a high ringing scream of terror, and it seemed to
break the spell which held her. Her legs would move again, and her
brain would work.
She whirled and ran back into her workroom, slamming the door and
locking it swiftly.
She crouched beside the door, thinking desperately.
She knew that as soon as he broke into the house Akkers need only switch
on a light. The electricity generator would automatically kick in on