Recoil (24 page)

After an hour we came to a huge buttress tree, like a fat rocket with six big fins. The whole thing was covered with a mass of vines and moss. I gestured towards its base, then held up a spread hand for the Chinese. ‘Five minutes.’ As if they understood.

It sank in when Silky sat against the trunk and I knelt next to her, weapon at the ready, covering towards the river.

‘How did you get here, Nick?’ Silky was out of breath, but calm. One of the things I’d always liked about her was that she kept her head, even when the shit was hurtling in the direction of the fan.

‘I know a couple of the guys running the mines.’

‘But how do you know these people? They’re mercenaries, no?’

My eyes were busy scanning the river, and I kept them there. ‘No . . . Well, maybe . . . I know them from my army days.’

I knew she was tilting her head to catch my eye, but the terrain ahead was too interesting for me to divert my attention from it.

‘I don’t really know that much about you, do I?’

I was almost relieved that she’d gone straight in at the deep end. ‘It’s a two-way street, you know. I guess there’s quite a lot we don’t know about each other.’ I hesitated. ‘I didn’t know about your medical degree. I didn’t know that the moment you find things too complicated, or not going your way, you hit the road. Fuck what anyone else thinks. You’ve pissed me off big-time. You think this is a game we’re playing here?’

Yin and Yang looked even more frightened than they had when I’d bawled them out about their luggage. ‘Don’t you worry.’ I flashed them a smile. ‘You’ll be all right. Jan will be knocking up a
brai
for you boys in no time.’

Silky wasn’t listening. She was staring at me. ‘Stefan?’

Finally I turned, but kept the weapon where it was.

‘Stefan told you, didn’t he? What else did he tell you?’

‘Fuck-all, really. But what little he did say made me realize I hardly knew you . . .’

We couldn’t waste any more time. I was worried about getting over the river. There hadn’t been any sign of a narrowing between the banks. I got up and waited for the others to do likewise, then moved off. We would have to keep punching through bush until we found a crossing point so we could head east.

I checked the sat nav. At least it was up and running. I keyed in the airstrip way-point, and the first thing Magellan told us to do was cross the river and head east.

5

We carried on upstream for the next hour. I did my job, looked, listened and checked the river periodically for a crossing point. It was like checking the chimney for Father Christmas. Nothing. It was still far too wide and deep, the current too strong.

We were due for another rest stop. Yin and Yang were fucked.

I led them away from the bank and headed uphill into a denser patch of jungle. We took cover behind a moss-covered deadfall, a buttress tree that looked like it had toppled over just before the Belgians pulled out.

I knelt down in the leaf litter and mud to cover back down to the river, and Yin and Yang dropped gratefully on to their backs, panting and sweating. They had a whisper and Yin produced a packet of John Rolfe from one of his pockets.

I mimed smoking and shook my head.

Yin thought he understood what I meant and offered me one. Then he started jabbering to Yang. I put my finger to my lips. ‘Sssh! No smoking! No talking!’ They got the message when I snatched the John Rolfe pack and crushed it.

Silky had stretched out on the leaf litter, her neck tilted back as she studied my face. There was a lot going on in that head of hers.

‘Why did you come here, Silky?’

She raised her upturned hands and hunched her shoulders. ‘I just—’

I frowned and very, very slowly placed a finger over my lips. Hers wasn’t the only movement I’d seen.

There was something in my peripheral vision, near the river.

Very carefully, I checked the AK’s safety lever was still fully down, then tried to minimize every single movement as I lowered myself behind the cover.

There was a shout from the other side of the deadfall, followed by laughter. A few seconds later there was another, and this time it was closer.

I was still kneeling behind the tree-trunk. My eyes darted around like they were on springs – as if I was going to see anything with a big lump of wood in front of me. What else could I do? For now, the AK wasn’t our biggest weapon; concealment was.

I opened my mouth to cut internal noises; external noise was what I needed to absorb and process.

A sharp burst of 7.62 shattered the silence, followed by an explosion of bird wings as hundreds flapped and screeched just beneath the canopy.

There was another burst of laughter out there in the trees. Yin and Yang whimpered to themselves as they lay on their bellies, their faces in the leaf litter, fingers clenching the mud as if they were digging a nice big hideaway.

I controlled my breathing through my mouth and slowly lifted my head. Using the foliage hanging from a branch as camouflage, I looked over the deadfall.

I saw movement down by the river, lots of it: maybe ten, fifteen bodies, blurred by the trees, heading downstream. If we’d stayed near the track, we would have walked straight into them.

They were mooching along in groups of two and three, all over the place, no hint of a proper formation, but all carrying. They had to be Kony’s men from the south.

The shouts and banter got louder. One guy lit two cigarettes and handed one to his mate. The smoke hung in a small cloud under the canopy.

I lowered my head again and, staying on my knees, got my mouth to Silky’s ear. ‘We wait. Keep still.’

I leaned down to Yin and Yang and tapped gently to get them to turn their heads and open their eyes. I motioned them to keep still. I put my finger to my lips and gave them an exaggerated smile, trying to bring down their pulse-rate. They looked at me as if I was a madman.

The first group of voices moved closer, then receded as they passed from our right to left, in the direction of the mine, and it wasn’t long before I smelled more cigarette smoke.

So far so good. No voices too close; no rustling of the leaf litter just the other side of the deadfall.

I breathed slowly and shallowly. Yin and Yang trembled, trying their hardest to hold it together. They screwed up their faces, eyes tight shut. Maybe they thought that if they couldn’t see they couldn’t be seen. Or maybe they were doing their best to block out what was happening because they couldn’t hack it.

Silky was curled up on the ground. Her eyes were wide open, but not to take in what was happening. They burned into mine.

Voices came from closer than the track – two, three guys muttering to each other. Following sign we had left?

I gripped the weapon to my chest, left hand on the stock, gently pulling up safety to the first click before easing my index finger into the trigger guard.

My head always switched off when these things happened. I didn’t know if it was the training, experience, or that I was just too thick to think anything but – I’m in the shit and I’m going to die soon, so everything else is a bonus.

One voice had got so close he could have been talking to me.

Less than two metres away and closing
.

In a second or two he’d be able to see over the deadfall.

Fuck it
.

I jumped up, weapon in the shoulder, and brought it into the aim, both eyes open.

As I bounced down again into a semi-squat to make use of the cover, I registered three bodies.

I squeezed the trigger at the blurred faces in front of me. The burst dropped the first guy at point-blank.

The other two were still shadows to my right as his blood splattered across my face.

They flapped and tried to get their weapons off the shoulder.

I swung mine up to drop them – and held fire.

One was a kid
.

I pointed the weapon at the ground in front of them and blasted away a patch of leaf mould. The man ran and the kid froze, staring, shaking, his eyes huge with fear. He tried to lift his weapon. I cabbied off another burst at his feet and he got the message.

Down on the track, the rest of their gang went ballistic. Shouts, screams, crazy fire.

I swung round to Silky and the Chinese. ‘Run! Over the high ground! Run! Run!’

A few minutes ago Yin and Yang had been in the final stages of exhaustion. Now their feet sprouted wings.

I turned back and let the rest of the magazine rip towards the river, keeping their heads down that few seconds more so the others could make distance.

I couldn’t help myself. I had to check the body the other side of the deadfall.

Weapon still in the shoulder, I looked past the butt. His face had almost disappeared into a mush of bone and brain matter, but his undersized torso had the pot belly of a malnourished child.

I fired another quick burst, then turned and chased Silky’s back, changing mags on the run.

6

Half the guys behind us probably didn’t even know what they were firing at. They’d heard shots and loosed off blindly with some of their own. Good. The more confusion the better. And if we could get over the high ground we’d be out of their line of fire.

I caught up with the others and ran on ahead. I had to set the pace. I carried my weapon in my left hand, and held the other out behind me to grab hers. Yin and Yang could fend for themselves.

I could no longer hear rounds or screams, or anything but my own breathing. My legs were no longer heavy; I was moving like an Olympic runner.

The euphoria didn’t last long. There was a piercing scream immediately behind me.

Man down
.

I turned to see Yin in the mud, his back arched, gulping for air. His legs flailed like he was trying to kick away an imaginary attack dog.

Yang stooped over him, trembling. Tears streamed down his fat little face as he screamed at his mate in Chinese. I hadn’t a clue what he was saying: I couldn’t tell whether he was telling him to get the fuck up and start running, or whether he was rattling off an order for takeaway.

Yin had taken two rounds, one in the shoulder, one in the back. There was a big exit wound in his chest. He was fighting it, his arms and head twitching, but his feet kicked less and less.

By the time I got to him, he was gulping his last few breaths.

I pulled at Yang’s arm. ‘We’ve got to go!’

I could see shapes beyond him, people bobbing up and down, confused, shouting, firing.

Rounds ripped through the foliage and stitched the ground near us. I had to kick him to get him moving. ‘Let’s go! Let’s go!’ I pulled him along as I started running, then let go and grabbed Silky again. He was a big boy: he could look after himself. She was a different story.

7

Silky stumbled and fell and her face hit the ground. Yang tore past us in blind panic. As I gripped her, blood leaked from her nostrils.

We plunged on, trying to catch up with Yang, who wasn’t stopping for anyone. He was riding his own ghost train.

We skidded on the wet mush, stumbling over rocks and fallen branches, flailing to regain our footing. I tripped and jarred both knees on the edge of a rock. It felt like they were on fire. Rounds pinged off the trees all around us and buried themselves deep in the wood.

Silky pulled me up. My chest heaved as I gulped in oxygen.

I heard long, wild, automatic bursts behind us. Angry shouts echoed through the trees.

We got moving again. Fuck knows where Yang had got to. I didn’t bother checking. It was distance we needed, not the state of play.

We crested the high ground and moved downhill, suddenly free of the nightmare behind. But, sure enough, there was another ahead.

As we scrambled downwards, the rush of water became almost deafening. Silky was struggling.

Then we both had to stop.

Our path was blocked by a red and muddy torrent. Was this the same river that had curved round the high ground, past the mine? Fuck it. Where it came from didn’t matter. Getting across it did.

I tried to find a safe place to cross. I might as well not have bothered. If I’d doubted the strength of the current I only had to look at the chunks of uprooted tree that were surging downstream. Wherever I chose, it was going to be a major drama.

I looked along the riverbank for Yang, but there was no sign of him. We couldn’t wait.

I yanked my vest from my trousers, then untied the bottoms of my OGs. The weight of trapped water in clothing can slow you down – then drown you.

‘Silky, pull your shirt out. Hurry.’

She had collapsed into the foetal position, her arms wrapped round her legs. Blood dribbled from her nose on to her mud-covered cargoes. Just feet away the water crashed angrily against the rocks. She looked at the river, then at me. ‘No, Nick – we won’t make it.’

I wasn’t listening. I’d seen her do laps of Lugano’s lido. As soon as the boys came over the high ground she’d be in this river, with or without me.