Bodyguard: Ambush (Book 3) (27 page)

Focused on its
immediate prey, the crocodile didn’t notice Connor’s approach from upstream.
As it opened its jaws to sink its teeth into Amber’s trailing legs, Connor dived
forward and wrapped his arms round the crocodile’s snout. Praying Gunner was right
about the weakness of their opening jaw muscles, Connor clung on with all his might, his
legs wrapped round its body.

Unfamiliar with being the victim of an
attack itself, the crocodile momentarily froze and Connor found himself eye-to-eye with
the prehistoric beast. It studied him with cold carnivorous intent. Then the crocodile
wrenched its head away, its unimaginable brute strength trawling Connor through the
water as it attempted to shake him off. But Connor refused to let go – he had to give
Amber enough time to escape the river.

Besides, once he released the crocodile,
he
would become the prey.

Enraged, the crocodile dived beneath the
surface. Connor barely managed to snatch a breath before he was dragged under with it.
The crocodile rolled him, its tail whipping, its body writhing. Connor lost all sense of
orientation. His arms became numb as he clung on for dear life. But it was no use. He
was weakening with every passing second and his lungs screamed for air. Forced to let
go, Connor kicked himself away from the crocodile’s jaws and came up gasping.

The crocodile vanished.

‘Where’s it gone?’ he
yelled, looking wildly around him.

Amber, who’d managed to crawl up on to
the safety of
the bank, scanned the river.
Then she spotted a ripple on the surface moving towards him at high speed.
‘There!’ she cried.

The water being shallow enough for him to
touch the muddy riverbed, Connor half-swam, half-ran for the bank. He was waist-deep
when the crocodile burst out of the water, its ferocious jaws open wide. It clamped down
hard on Connor’s back.

‘
NO! Connor!
’ Amber
screamed as he was dragged back into the river and disappeared beneath the surface.

Water engulfed him once more and Connor felt
himself being tugged deeper and deeper. The sunlight faded to a murky twilight and all
sounds became a dull wash in his ears. Having seized its prey, the crocodile intended to
drown him before devouring him. But its teeth had failed to sink into Connor’s
flesh. Instead all it had managed to gain was a mouthful of his Go-bag.

Connor fought to free himself, but the
straps were being pulled taut around his shoulders. He was entangled like a fish in a
net. The crocodile settled on the riverbed and waited it out.

With every passing second, the urge to open
his mouth and take a breath increased for Connor. The compulsion built like a wave until
it threatened to overpower him. Connor judged he had less than a minute before his
willpower gave out and his body’s natural yet fatal reflexes took over.

At least his sacrifice meant something.
He’d protected his Principal with his life. No bodyguard could be asked to do
more. He could only hope that Amber would reach the
safety of the lodge on her own before any rebels caught up
with her.

Connor continued to struggle, but his
actions were becoming weaker and weaker. After all the ordeals he’d faced since
the ambush, he had nothing left to give. His limbs were growing heavier, darkness was
starting to encroach on his vision and he began to feel light-headed …

Out of the gloomy waters floated a ghostly
apparition of his gran’s face, stern but loving.
I want you to quit. Before
something terrible happens to you.

Sorry, Gran
, he thought wistfully,
too late
.

Her face faded, even as it mouthed the words
in reply:
At what cost?

Then a brighter vision appeared.
Charley’s angelic features, her long blonde hair shimmering like a
mermaid’s. He heard himself say,
Yeah, but I’ll survive
.

We’re counting on it
,
Charley’s vision replied.
Listen, I have to go. Stay safe.

Connor didn’t want her to go; he felt
at peace with her. But he had no strength to call her back. All around him was now dark
and cold. His mother’s face swam into view. Not the lined, pained face he’d
said farewell to after his birthday visit but the younger, happier one of his youth. The
one he remembered before his mother was diagnosed with MS. She smiled at him. A sad
smile of goodbye. Connor’s heart ached as she too faded and another took its
place.

His father.

Clearer than ever before, the rugged
handsome features
were like a well-worn map,
his green-blue eyes shining with warmth in the darkness.

Connor grinned, his heart overwhelmed with
joy at seeing him again.

But his father’s expression remained
firm as he whispered a familiar piece of fatherly advice:
Never give in. Never give
up.

But I want to be with you
, thought
Connor.

Don’t you
dare
give up,
son. It’s not in our nature.

As his body’s reflexes forced his
mouth open and water entered, Connor’s hand brushed against his father’s
knife on his hip. Like an electric spark, it revived him – a sliver of hope that spurred
one final bid for survival.

Drawing the knife from its sheath with a
hand tingling from numbness, Connor twisted his arm round and jabbed the blade’s
tip deep into the open eye of the crocodile. A dark red cloud of blood burst forth and
the animal immediately released its vice-like grip on his back. Half-blind and in
agonizing pain, the crocodile jerked away and vanished into the murky depths of the
river.

Fighting against his body’s lead-like
heaviness, Connor kicked for the surface. His head emerged and he gulped at the air,
coughing and spluttering up the mouthful of water he’d swallowed. The hit of fresh
oxygen to his lungs brought him round and with wild desperate strokes he swam for the
bank.

Bedraggled and half-dead, he crawled through
the muddy shallows. Amber rushed over and helped him to stagger up the steep bank, away
from the reach of any
crocodiles. But they
managed little more than twenty steps before they collapsed together beneath the
protective shade of an acacia tree.

Yellow-breasted weaver birds chirped merrily
above the two prone bodies as they flitted in and out of their intricately woven nests,
which adorned the tree’s branches like dried fruit. A herd of tawny-coloured
impala, the males proudly displaying their long lyre-shaped horns, leisurely strolled
past, heading towards the grassy plain to graze. And hippos wallowed in the cool calm
waters of the river, occasionally snorting or calling out in a series of deep lazy
laughs. With the bright sunshine gilding the savannah, the scene couldn’t appear
more idyllic. Yet for the two broken individuals at the base of the tree, the paradise
surrounding them was as dangerous and lethal as it was beautiful.

Connor had no idea how long had passed since
Amber had dragged him from the river’s edge, but he had neither the strength nor
will to move again. He felt as if he’d gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer
and been knocked out at every ring of the bell. His clothes were caked in mud and torn
in several places. He was covered in abrasions and there wasn’t a single part of
his body that didn’t either ache or cry out in pain.

‘I thought …
I’d lost you for good,’ said Amber weakly.

Connor managed a weary shake of the head.
‘You can’t get rid of me that easily.’

Amber pushed herself up from the ground and
winced, clenching her teeth against the pain.

‘Are you OK?’ Connor
croaked.

‘I think I lost most of my skin
escaping that waterfall,’ she replied, lifting her T-shirt to examine the extent
of her injuries. ‘More to the point, how are
you
?’

‘I’m alive. Does that
count?’

Amber managed the thinnest of laughs.
‘You’re crazy, do you know that? Fighting crocodiles and leaping off
waterfalls. Next time we climb down!’

‘Fine by me,’ he replied,
closing his eyes as a soft warm breeze blew over them from the open savannah. At least
they’d managed to cross the river. He listened to the gentle swishing of the long
grasses, content not to move ever again.

Amber finished inspecting her wounds – the
whole of her left side had been scraped red raw on the rocks but nothing appeared to be
broken – then she gasped as she caught sight of blood seeping into the earth.

‘Connor, you’re bleeding,’
she said, fighting to keep her voice steady.

Connor opened his eyes, the pain suddenly
intensifying as he became conscious of his own injuries. Helping him to sit up, Amber
removed the tattered Go-bag from his back and gingerly raised his shirt. Her sea-green
eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in shock.

‘How bad is
it?’ asked Connor, terrified of what damage the crocodile had inflicted.

‘There’s barely a scratch on
your back!’ she remarked in astonishment. ‘A few nasty bruises. The bandage
round your waist has come loose and the bullet wound’s opened up again. But
that’s about it.’

Connor breathed a painful sigh of relief. It
was a miracle his spine hadn’t been ripped out.

‘I can’t believe that crocodile
didn’t do more damage,’ Amber continued, tenderly touching his bare skin
with her fingers. ‘I
saw
it bite into your back!’

A grin spread across Connor’s face
when he realized what had saved him from the animal’s fearsome jaws. ‘The
Go-bag has a bulletproof body-armour panel built in,’ he explained. Then, with a
laugh, he added, ‘I can’t wait to see the look on Amir’s face when I
tell him the bag’s croc-proof too!’

‘Amir?’ asked Amber.

‘Yeah, one of my best friends at
Buddyguard.’ Connor looked thoughtfully off towards the horizon. ‘I just
hope he’s faring better on his mission than I am.’

‘That wouldn’t be hard,’
said Amber.

Connor’s gaze dropped to the ground as
a sharp stab of guilt and grief pierced his heart. ‘I’m sorry,’ he
mumbled, unable to meet her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry. I promised to protect you
and your brother and I’ve failed.’

Amber stared at him. ‘What are you
talking about? You’ve done
everything
in your power to protect us. Who
could have foreseen
any
of this happening? I only meant
your friend couldn’t be suffering as badly as you.
It’s not your fault that gunman killed my little brother … and my parents …
It’s
his
!’

Trembling with fury and deep loss, Amber
lapsed into mournful silence. Connor reached over and took her hand, trying to offer her
some comfort, conscious that words would have little impact. He knew from bitter
experience the emotional devastation of losing a parent. But to have one’s whole
family torn from you was something beyond grief. No words could ever describe the
desolation experienced after such a loss.

Amber held his hand tight, almost squeezing
the life from it. Then, eventually, her grip eased and she glanced down at his weeping
wound.

‘We need to take care of that,’
she said in a voice drained of all emotion.

Amber picked up the ravaged Go-bag, but they
didn’t need to open it to see that most of the contents were missing. A huge hole
had been ripped in the side. The binoculars were gone. So too was the water bottle,
Lifestraw, sun lotion and Maglite. Yet, by some small grace of good fortune, the
first-aid kit was still in its pouch. The case had been mauled to pieces but Amber
managed to cobble together enough to re-dress the wound and clean up his multitude of
cuts. Then Connor tended to her injuries, Amber wincing as he gently pressed the last of
the antiseptic wipes against her grazed skin. The cut on her lip was already healing,
but the one on her cheek needed a fresh plaster. As he applied it, their eyes met and he
saw that hers were brimming over with tears.

‘I loved my
brother … you know,’ she confessed, choking back a sob. ‘He could be
annoying at times … but what brother isn’t? I just never told him … and now …
I’ll never get the chance.’