Frankly Told: Not Just Us
Headlights cast an orange glow on the trees. The skies were a blank deep blue that only seemed to add to the loneliness that hugged the landcruiser in the middle of nowhere.
Inside the vehicle, they sat in silence. They were only moving by reflex to the random sounds that nature made around them. Never had they felt stripped of all sense of safety and what had started as an exciting expedition was now a bunch of sitting ducks with nothing but time to think about their lives. They held their breath, still shaken from the commotion that caused them to stall for what had been hours.
They were in the territory of a pride of lions, at least that is what the driver, who was one of the guides had mentioned before they fell into this suspense. There was a little tiff between the driver and his colleague before the other one of them got out of the vehicle, armed with nothing but a tranquillizer gun. He had been gone for a while and worry had set in that he had not made it from whatever mission he had taken on.
The driver listened keenly to the radio that he had been using to keep in contact with the colleague. A few words were exchanged here and there in a composed tone as if they had been here thousands of times and this was just a minor bump on the road. He looked back from the car's back seat and could trace a line where the tyre had dragged through the loose soil when it got jammed.
“Umeipata?” the driver asked his colleague.
Something muffled came through the radio that was hard to make out for all but the driver. Perhaps it was a different language, he thought, owing to the fact that up until that point, they could distinctly make out the background noises. Suddenly, there was a sharp rustle that came through the speakers and a cuss word that followed.
“Oya!” the driver exclaimed.
“Zimenipata,” the voice came through the comms.
“Ziko ngapi?” the driver asked, overtly reaching for his gun. “Umefika wapi?”
“Si mbali. Naona ka nne,” the voice came through. “Wananiangalia tu. I think walikuwa wamekula…”
There was a roar that was accompanied by an exclamation and without any hesitation, the driver jumped out of the car with his gun in hand. The passengers whimpered and held each other. Being the only one not in a couple, he sat in the backseat with his eyes locked on to the radio. The noises of panic and snarling and growling dug a pit in his stomach.
There was screaming for a while and the firing of a gun. The driver had reached the area of conflict and from the sounds on the radio not a moment sooner. The two men yelled and from the heavy breathing held their own against the predators. He felt helpless knowing there was nothing he could do. He wanted to do something.
His eyes scanned the interior for something, anything to divert his focus and give him something to do. The yelling and growling emanating from the speakers were not helping. He got up and rushed to the front. His body was now moving on its own. The other six sat there in bewilderment of his actions. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and his breath burnt like acid on its way out.
He found the box of tools and yanked it from the centre console before tumbling out of the vehicle. He scampered beneath and found his way to the locked wheel. With everything in him, he began to bang at the mechanisms. Anything to hear some click or snap that would release the wheel. After a round of hits, his shoulders began to burn, his lungs felt coated in dust and he was sweating through his cotton t-shirt.
Inside the car, one of the ladies found their voice and was now screaming for him to get back into the car. His determination proved a little stronger than his fear if only for a little bit before he looked into the distance and picked out the faint glow of orbs amongst the grass. He froze. His unblinking eyes stuck on the two floating orbs.
Suddenly, his leg was gripped by what felt like jaws and he was dragged out from beneath the car almost like he weighed nothing. Fear retook its rightful position on his chest. Before anything else, he felt hot breath on his face with his shut eyes, all he could process was the sound of screaming from inside the car.
He kicked and squirmed like a fish out of water. Fighting his way out of a situation he couldn’t even see. A second set of jaws grabbed his arm and pulled him. He fought even harder. Making sure not to twist in a way that he would lose his arm or his leg. He had dropped the tool he was banging on the car so he was unarmed against these beasts.
He swang his arm wildly trying to grab anything and soon grabbed a handful of hair. It felt kinky. He opened one eye and slowed down his wild movements to a stop. His breathing was now just as heavy as the sounds that he remembered hearing over the radio.
“Nini mbaya na huyu?” a familiar voice threw.
“Sir, sir. Get up, sir,” the other voice called. “It’s just us.”
He felt his body lift off the ground and standing up, he was led back into the car. His eyes finally adjusted to the dim light of night, reflected from the one source of the headlights. His supposed beasts were the two guides, who looked to be in a state themselves. Torn shirts and some blood here and there.
As they toppled into the car, one of them sat on the handbrake and it released. The car rolled before the driver quickly stomped down the brakes.
“Nyasaye!” the exclamation slipped from the driver’s lips.
He turned back to the boy whose hand tightly clenched his shirt over his heart. The colleague turned back as the driver spun around and turned the key in the ignition. The car roared to life and shifting gears the car wobbled to a slow run. The driver smacked the steering wheel in desperate joy.
“When we get home,” the colleague finally spoke. “Know the lives in your hands were not just us. You have done magic!”
