Fever (9 page)

Then food was brought to the fire, blessed by the chief, and passed to the elder men first. As they waited their turn, Zak moved closer and whispered, “The meat is guinea fowl, so it’s probably safe.”

The bird tasted like roasted duck and the corn paste was similar to mashed cornbread. The meal was delicious, or maybe she was just starving from the day’s activities. After they finished eating, everyone sat around the fire and sipped from a gourd that passed from person to person. When it was Sara’s turn, Zak said, “I’d pass on that if I were you.”

“Well, you’re not me and I don’t want to seem inhospitable. Besides, I want to try everything.” She took a big gulp and was immediately sorry. The thick iron taste stuck to her tongue and almost gagged her. She could barely swallow without heaving the rancid mixture back up. Her face must’ve been telling because Zak gave her an I-told-you-so grin. When she could speak again, she asked, “What
is
that?”

“Milk and cow’s blood. It’s a staple and an acquired taste.”

Sara felt the color drain from her face. Her stomach churned as much from the knowledge of what she’d drunk as its actual taste. She watched Zak and Imani down some of the offensive elixir and thought she might faint. They laughed together, then engaged in an animated conversation in Swahili, probably at her expense. After the gourd made its final pass around the circle, the group started to break up. Couples paired off and disappeared into their huts with children in tow. Chief Owenga, Ben, Imani, and Zak huddled together discussing something in Swahili that sounded serious.

Ben handed Zak a folded piece of paper and when she opened it, her entire demeanor changed from relaxed to anxious. Though Sara couldn’t understand Zak’s words, she recognized the angry tone. Imani placed a hand on her arm as if to calm her and nodded in Sara’s direction. They continued in hushed voices until the headlights of two vehicles flashed through the camp.

The Maasai night watchman escorted a short, red-faced man and an African into the compound. “I’m Roger Kamau, the new guide.” He directed his comments to Sara. “I’ve brought two vehicles and the supplies. Randall sends his regards.”

After a round of introductions, Zak offered Roger a seat near the fire to discuss the takeover, as she called it. As Sara listened to Zak explain the preliminary details, she realized their association was being terminated. Maybe she was just feeling helpless out here in the middle of nowhere, but the idea of turning her safety over to this man made her as queasy as drinking cow’s blood.

“Do you speak Swahili?” Sara hoped for any excuse to send him back where he came from. Zak might be annoying and stubborn, but at least Sara felt safe with her.

“No, but I don’t think that will be a problem. The primary language in Africa is English.”

“We’ll be in the bush country.” Sara felt like a dog with a bone. “I’d feel more comfortable with a native speaker.” Zak gave her a quizzical look. “We can talk more about this in the morning. I’m not feeling well.” The milk concoction did another flip in her stomach.

“Of course, Ms. Ambrosini.” Roger rose as Sara did and wished her good night.

As she moved away from the fire, Sara realized she had no idea where she was going. Before she could turn to ask the question, Zak and Imani flanked her. “There,” Imani said, pointing toward a hut near the back of the camp. She gave Zak a look that Sara was too tired and sick to interpret and disappeared.

Zak pulled back the animal skin covering the door and waited for her to enter. “I know this isn’t exactly what you’re used to, but it’s only for one night. The sleeping section is to the left as you enter. Someone will keep the fire going inside, so you should be warm. I suggest you sleep in your clothes.”

“I’ll be fine. Where will you sleep?”

“I’m taking over rounds.”

“You’re not going to rest?”

She shook her head. “I’m not very good at it anyway. And don’t go outside the compound for any reason. The thorn-bush fence, campfire, and guards are here for a reason. Wild animals do attack villages from time to time.”

“Good night.” Sara ducked her head and entered the hut, crouching inside to get her bearings in the darkness. Smoke drifted up from a small fire to the right of the doorway and out a hole in the ceiling. She choked on the dense fog, fanning to catch a clean breath. By morning she’d smell like a smoked Italian sausage. To the left was a mud half-wall that partially separated the entry area from a sleeping space. An animal skin that covered the hard-packed ground served as the bed. The entire structure was smaller than her closet at home.

Sara was suddenly grateful for her long pants and shirt sleeves, mentally noting to check her body for hitchhikers in the morning. She took off her jacket and fashioned it into a pillow as she tried to get comfortable in the cramped space. Bouts of nausea that sent her stumbling from the hut and voices that grew louder and more heated through the night interrupted her attempts to sleep.

*

When Zak thought Sara was asleep, she pulled the folded piece of paper Ben had given her from her pocket and handed it to Roger Kamau. They sat alone by the fire so she felt comfortable questioning him. “Have you seen this?”

Roger examined the paper in the dim light. “It’s a copy of Sara’s driver’s license, passport, and social security card.” His gaze swept around the campsite and back to the fire. He was clearly avoiding eye contact.

“I didn’t ask what it was. That’s obvious. Have you seen it before?” Roger shifted uncomfortably, a stall tactic to compose a plausible lie. These documents had been out of Sara’s possession only once during this trip. Apparently the staff at the Mombasa Serena Hotel wasn’t as loyal as Sara thought. “You have. Where?”

He dug into his coat pocket and produced an identical piece of paper. “It was given to me when I was assigned this job.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure.” Roger’s face paled. The man didn’t lie well or think very quickly.

“You live in Nairobi?”

“Yes,” he answered tentatively.

“Who gave you this information?”

“My boss. He works for the National Parks Service. He got a call from Ms. Ambrosini’s attorney looking for a replacement guide.”

“And?” Zak was growing impatient with the cat-and-mouse game.

“I guess he wanted to be sure I reported to the right person.”

Zak had her hands around the man’s throat in an instant. He was bug-eyed and red-faced, sputtering for breath. “I’ll give you one more chance to answer my questions, and then I’ll feed you to whatever wild beast is hunting tonight. Are we clear?” She waited for a nod and released him.

Roger took several deep breaths as his facial coloring returned. “Some people in government want this project to fail. This paper has been heavily distributed, warning against assisting in this endeavor.”

“What does the government have against a new school that won’t cost them anything?”

“They’re not against the school or the Ambrosini Foundation.”

That left only one possibility and Zak balled her fists against her building anger. “Then what? Say it.”

“The opposition is twofold. One is a personal issue with you. Apparently you have a very powerful enemy in the Kenyan government.”

“Then you’re in luck, Mr. Kamau, because your job is to replace me. And your first and only loyalty is to Sara Ambrosini. What’s the second issue?”

“I’m not sure of the details, but I do know the influential, wealthy opponents are land-hungry.”

“Your job is to take care of Ms. Ambrosini. If I hear that you’ve let her down in any way, I’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth. Do you understand?”

The prominent Adam’s apple on Kamau’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Yes.”

“Then we understand each other. Good night.” Zak walked toward Ben, who stood at the camp entrance.

He passed his spear and club to her, relinquishing the watch, and headed to his hut. “Be well, Ebony.”

This was the first time since her arrival that she’d been alone, and she relished the night. As she patrolled the camp’s perimeter, she rolled the hand-hewn spear shaft between her palms and remembered whittling and fashioning her own weapon many years ago. The scents of scorched earth combined with the evidence of human habitation and the layer of wood smoke that clung to the air. The sky was top-heavy with stars, their brilliance undiminished by the artificial lights of civilization. In the distance a hyena’s musical whoop broke the silence with its modulated up-and-down pitch. Part of the thrill of Africa was the primal sounds of animals that survived by their instincts. Adrenaline surged through Zak’s body as she acknowledged the challenge and potential this country always represented for her.

And this new turn of events was certainly challenging. She felt like she was in a time warp, living three years earlier. One corrupt man in a position of power was instrumental in her father’s death. It had never been proved, but she knew it in her gut. Now he wanted—what, to ban her from Kenya, to eliminate her entirely? And what of this competition for the land? Who was behind it and why? She’d fled the country before in deference to her mother’s wishes and her father’s memory. Was she willing to simply leave again?

She was thankful that the decision to terminate her job with Sara hadn’t been related to this new development. It was best for the school project and for Sara personally if she wasn’t involved. She refused to place Sara in danger, so she couldn’t explain to Sara why she would be in jeopardy. Ben and her other contacts could keep an eye on Kamau and make sure he lived up to his obligations. She would have Stewart investigate the land issue and smooth the way for construction. It was best all around that she was leaving.

When she rounded the backside of the camp, Zak detected movement inside the fence. She crouched behind a clump of thick thorn bushes and listened. Gagging and heaving sounds confirmed that Sara’s stomach was still upset. Zak allowed her privacy and when Sara returned to the hut, Zak buried the remnants so they wouldn’t attract animals. She was almost back at the entrance when a vehicle started and spun away, stirring up dust and rock. Watching the truck’s taillights disappear, Zak felt a sense of dread.

Cramps gnarled Sara’s legs and her stomach seized as she struggled to wake the next morning. She tried to straighten her legs but couldn’t in the confined space. A strange bouquet of manure, garbage, and smoke assaulted her. Then she remembered where she was and what she’d done last night. Her mouth tasted like the air smelled, rancid and unclean. She shivered at the recollection of the foul concoction she’d drunk and the unpleasant consequences. After that, she could handle anything.

“He is gone. What will you do?” a man’s voice asked outside the hut.

“It’s really not my problem anymore, Ben.” Sara’s body dimpled with goose flesh as she heard Zak’s husky voice. “Sara, are you awake?”

She mouthed her reply but nothing came out. Her tongue seemed plastered to the roof of her mouth. She grunted, “Uh-huh.”

“I’ve left some bathing and drinking water by your door. We need to talk, soon.”

Sara listened as Zak and Ben walked away, then retrieved two bottles and the small bucket of lukewarm water from outside. She downed one of the bottles immediately, feeling like she might vomit again but needing the hydration. Choosing not to consider what might be living in the bucket, she splashed the murky liquid on her face and began to wake up. She used the second bottle to brush her teeth and tongue until they felt almost normal.

The sun had just begun to finger the skyline as Sara threw back the skin opening of her hut. Muted shades of orange, pink, and lavender striated the eastern sky and bathed the camp in a gauzy film of light. The compound hummed like bees in a bottle. Sara wanted to watch as the seemingly unrelated activities transformed into the daily life of these industrious people. But Zak, her hair wet and wearing a fresh gray ninja outfit, was bearing down on her like an unstoppable freight train.

She spoke as she walked. “You need to call and make arrangements for another guide.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Sara replied.

Zak stopped in front of her and stared, her azure gaze sweeping over her like the heated winds of Africa. “You’re pale and probably dehydrated from throwing up. Drink lots of water.”

“You say the kindest things to a girl first thing in the morning.” Sara shook her head like she hadn’t heard Zak properly. “But back up. What do you mean I need another guide?”

“He’s gone. Took off in the middle of the night.”

“Kamau?” When Zak nodded, Sara felt calm for the first time since seeing the man yesterday. “Oh, really, that’s too bad.” A smile crept across her face.

“I assume you have a plan B since you’re smiling about this unexpected turn of events.”

By this time Ben and Imani had joined them and waited for Sara’s answer. “I was hoping you’d stay on.”

“No.”

The quick response took Sara by surprise, like Zak hadn’t even thought about it. “Why? Are you still upset about my touching your—”

“Absolutely not,” Zak snapped with an irritated frown. “It’s just not possible.”

“Anything is possible if you want it to be. If I have to wait until Randall finds another replacement, we’ll be behind before we even get started. Will you at least consider it? I need you, Zak.”