Journey to Freedom (5 page)

The honey badger took to following her around. He had spent most of his life alone – first in the zoo and then in the woods – and he relished having a companion. Lorna tolerated his presence up to a point. She enjoyed the familiarity of her old friend but there
were times when she wanted to be on her own. She soon made this apparent.

‘Now, Ratel, where is your den?’ she asked pointedly as the badger showed signs of wanting to join her in the cave. She stood by the entrance, blocking the hole with her body and watching him lazily.

‘Oh, anywhere convenient,’ he replied airily. ‘I’m not fussy so long as it’s dark and hidden away.’

‘Don’t you have a special place?’

‘No-o, not really. I just—’

‘Well,’ Lorna interrupted him, ‘this is my special place and mine alone. And I want to keep it that way. You understand me, don’t you?’

The badger backed slightly. Lorna was so huge and imposing. ‘Er – yes. Yes, I understand.’

‘Even humans keep away from here,’ Lorna continued, ‘so, you see, it’s a sort of secret place.’ She yawned and stretched her mighty limbs. ‘Of course, I’m happy to have you nearby, you know.’

‘Nearby. Yes,’ the badger echoed. The position was clear enough and he accepted it. He lifted a back leg and scratched his belly. He wasn’t afraid of Lorna but he was aware of her strength and respected it. ‘I’ll leave you, then, lion,’ he said and trotted away. He turned once to look at her majestic figure and paused in admiration. ‘There’s nothing to rival her here,’ he murmured.

Lorna already felt her position of supremacy in the forest. Her stature gave her a new assurance. At times she heard human voices, but as her knowledge of the woodland grew she found it easy to evade any attempt to recapture her. The men were frustrated at every turn and realised they needed new tactics. It was decided to use dogs for the first time to try to flush Lorna from
cover. In that way the men hoped to have just time enough to dart and sedate her.

Lorna had no experience of dogs and the men knew that. ‘She won’t know how to deal with them,’ Martin said. ‘They’ll confuse her. It’ll be our best chance yet. She’s become too wary. Even the police helicopter couldn’t pinpoint her. But the dogs’ll make a difference.’

A working bloodhound with its handler was hired. The dog was introduced to Lorna’s scent at the zoo and set on her trail. The men followed with a pair of bull mastiffs which were to be used to keep the lioness at bay. These dogs were utterly fearless but, just as Lorna had no knowledge of dogs, so the dogs had never seen a lion.

By now Lorna’s range in the forest was extensive. She knew the best places to stalk deer and where the rabbit runs were. Twice more she had encountered and killed foxes. She had learnt always to listen for unusual sounds in the daytime. She knew that humans preferred the daylight hours. On the morning when Martin led his team of men and dogs into the forest by the usual route, Lorna was in her lair. But she wasn’t sleeping. An overpowering thirst kept her wakeful and she returned continually to the stream to drink. The bloodhound picked up her scent very quickly and bayed deeply. Lorna raised her head. It was a sound she didn’t recognise. But she knew it was an animal sound and, to Lorna, an animal sound in these woods meant possible prey.

She was alert and curious at once. She left the cave, intent on investigating. Silent as ever, she travelled beneath the trees. The men were not so silent. They had given the bloodhound its head and were now hurrying to keep up with it. The bull mastiffs trotted at
the men’s side. Lorna soon detected the men’s hasty steps and took her customary evasive action. She set forth on a wide detour, taking her to the fringe of the woodland and bringing her round to the men’s rear. The loud snuffling of the bull mastiffs, who breathed badly, intrigued Lorna and she followed in their wake.

Meanwhile the bloodhound was becoming confused. Lorna’s scent was everywhere in the forest. The hound tried to keep its nose to the freshest trail but the lioness’s tracks were a sort of maze. They diverged here, met up again there, dividing and rejoining constantly. Finally the hound found the most recent scent and barked in excitement. It bounded along then on the very route Lorna had taken that morning. The men were outdistanced and found it difficult to keep the bloodhound in view. Lorna, however, was ready for it.

She heard the dog’s triumphant bark and took cover. Shortly afterwards she saw the bloodhound approaching. To Lorna the animal resembled nothing she had ever seen before, except that there was some slight similarity in the way it moved to that of a fox. Lorna knew all about foxes. She crouched behind her screen of undergrowth, preparing to pounce.

The bloodhound’s head was up as the lioness sprang but the dog never knew what hit it. Lorna’s crushing weight drove the breath from its body and her jaws fastened on its throat. But she didn’t have time to carry off her kill. The men were approaching. Lorna hesitated, then dropped the carcass and loped quietly away unseen, snarling to herself in exasperation.

The dog-handler was the first on the scene. ‘My God, Martin! Look at this!’

The rest of the men trudged up, breathing heavily. The handler was on his knees, examining the remains of the unfortunate bloodhound. The bull mastiffs sniffed at the carcass with puzzled expressions.

Martin looked strained. ‘This is awful,’ he said. Then, angrily, ‘She’s not to get away with this! She can’t be far. Come on, lads. Let’s go after her.’

None of the others was keen. ‘I can’t leave Bruno like this,’ the dog-handler said, looking sadly at the bloodhound. ‘I have to take him back.’

‘Yes. Yes, I’m sorry. This is a tragedy,’ said Martin. ‘We’ll help. You can use the sling to carry him. Brian, Dean, will you help? Take Bruno to the car. Then come back and join the rest of us.’ He wiped a hand wearily over his face. ‘I can’t say how sorry I am about all this. It’s just . . . unbelievable.’

‘It’s a cruel waste,’ said the dog-handler. ‘Bruno couldn’t have stood a chance.’ He shook his head. The bloodhound’s body was lifted on to the sling. ‘The mastiffs are no good to you now,’ he said. ‘They’re not tracking dogs.’

‘I’d like to keep them a bit if we may,’ the leader replied. ‘They make us feel less vulnerable.’

The handler nodded. ‘As you like, but keep them on their leads. We don’t want any more accidents. If you come up with the beast, they’ll play their part. But I wouldn’t think you stand much chance now.’ He turned to go.

‘Where will you be, boss?’ Brian asked as he and Dean lifted their burden, grunting with the weight. ‘Where will we find you?’

‘Round about here. If Lorna has left this area we’ll call it a day. But
I
think she’s lurking nearby. She’ll be thinking about her—’ He broke off. He’d been about to say ‘kill’ but it was too sensitive a word while the dog-handler was still within earshot. ‘You know what I mean,’ he finished in an undertone.

The three men departed. Those remaining had lost heart. The lioness was too clever for them, too strong and too savage. She had everything in her favour and
they weren’t happy about that. But Martin was determined to continue. Beset by constant failure and reversals, and under increasing pressure from their employers on the national newspaper, the team needed somehow to justify themselves. Martin knew it and wouldn’t give up. Besides, he was furious at being outwitted once again.

Lorna was lying up in some bracken, well hidden, but still in the vicinity. Martin had been right: she hadn’t forgotten her abandoned meal. The men, with very little enthusiasm, began their search. All of them, Martin included, had the same uncomfortable feeling of being watched. The bull mastiffs felt the men’s tension and stiffened visibly. Lorna was supremely quiet and still. She could see the human figures in the near distance. They never came very close.

Eventually Brian and Dean rejoined the group. All the men wanted to quit the forest. They had had nothing but bad luck in it, and didn’t think they had the remotest chance of any success.

‘We’re not achieving anything here,’ one complained. ‘Let’s leave. It’s an impossible job.’

There were murmurings of assent.

‘You want her to beat us?’ Martin said accusingly. ‘One wretched animal against eight men?’

‘She’s not just any animal,’ Dean reminded him. ‘There’s no shame in it, boss. We’ve done our best.’

‘No.’ Martin shook his head. ‘We haven’t. And that’s what I’m being told. We’ve got to get a result here. If not today, then soon. Otherwise it’ll be peanuts for all of us for all our efforts. There’ll be no real pay-out.’

‘What do you suggest then?’ one of the other men asked.

‘I’ve got one more idea for today,’ Martin answered. ‘A lion doesn’t like to leave its kill. She’s waiting for us
to go. She’ll be bound to come looking for that poor brute of a dog once she thinks it’s safe to do so. Let’s play her game. Get into hiding and wait.’

‘Wouldn’t she know we’re still around?’ Brian asked. ‘She could scent us, surely?’

‘Not if we’re a little way away. Lions rely more on their eyes and ears than their noses. But we must be completely quiet. Including the dogs. Shall we give it a chance?’

There were half-hearted responses.

‘How long do we wait?’

‘As long as it takes.’

‘But what if she doesn’t come back?’

‘She will,’ said Martin. ‘I know it.’

‘Then why didn’t we try this idea before? When we nearly had her at the deer kill?’

‘We didn’t have the dogs with us then, did we? Trackers or not, the mastiffs make
me
feel happier. We only had ourselves to rely on before.’

There was no further conversation. Martin placed his team so that they were close enough to have a good view of the scene of the kill, while at the same time being sufficiently well hidden to be not immediately noticeable. There was nothing to do then but wait. Not a word was exchanged. As an added precaution the bull mastiffs were muzzled. Men and dogs crouched together, watching the spot where the hound’s spilt blood coagulated and began to turn solid.

Lorna was the essence of patience. She lay still for a long time. Then, growling low in her throat, as though reasoning with herself, she eventually got to her feet. She looked for signs of humans and listened for their sounds. There were none. Satisfied, she began to approach the pool of blood at a leisurely pace. The smell of it was strong and sweet. She headed directly
for it – then suddenly stopped, baffled by the disappearance of the carcass. Her angry growl was distinctly heard by the watching men. Lorna looked ahead, assessing the turn of events. Martin raised his rifle. Lorna spied the slight movement and, with an astonishing burst of speed, raced towards the ambush. The men had no time to unmuzzle the dogs who were struggling to their feet, straining furiously, as Lorna charged. Martin tried to hold steady but his hands trembled. Some of the men broke away. The lioness was almost on them.

Lorna sprang at the man with the gun, dashing it from his hands as she vaulted over his body and careered onwards through the undergrowth. Martin was completely unhurt but badly shaken. Lorna had had no intention of attacking him. It seemed she had recognised the threat of the rifle and had deliberately planned her leap to upset it. In no time she was once again lost from view. Some of the men were gasping at the abruptness of Lorna’s run. Others shook their heads slowly.

‘It’s uncanny,’ said Dean. ‘She seems to
know
, doesn’t she? As though she can read our minds.’

Martin slumped on the ground, white-faced. The men glanced at him awkwardly. One of them tried to stir him.

‘What’s next, boss?’

There was no answer at first. Then Martin slowly got to his feet. ‘Resignation,’ he murmured.

The cargo plane carrying Ellen and Joel touched down at the East African airport in late afternoon, but their journey was not yet over. There were still some miles to go by road before they reached Kamenza. Ellen’s crate was unloaded and transferred to an open-top truck, and she was given fresh water and food. Tired after her ordeal, she drank all the water but barely touched the food.

Joel also was tired. Having made certain Ellen was as comfortable as possible he took the passenger seat in the car that was to follow the truck. Photographs were taken to accompany a short article in the sponsoring newspaper which would report Ellen’s safe arrival on the African continent. Then the next stage of the journey began.

Ellen roused a little once on the move again. She was immediately aware of new sensations, the most noticeable of which was the heat. She had never experienced temperatures of this kind, any more than had Joel. The air was heavy and full of strange and pungent smells. Nothing remembered from her enclosure at Lingmere Zoo in the north of England was remotely akin to any of these things. Ellen was totally unprepared for the change. And yet, deep within her unconscious
self, an ancient instinct was stirred and an ancestral echo reawakened.

Joel felt no such echo. The car was hot, and he was sleepy and uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he was able to marvel at the unfamiliar landscape while he wrestled with the rich accent of his friendly African driver. The truck trundled ahead and eventually turned off the metalled road, throwing up quantities of reddish dust. They passed a village where they received some enthusiastic waves. Joel waved back and grinned broadly.