Outbreak (18 page)

Ten metres to go.

Five metres.

The pain in his arms was too much. He was sinking. He did his best to gather his energy for one final surge up above the water, but it simply wasn't there. He was going down. He closed his eyes and held his breath.

And then his foot hit the bottom of the river. It felt hard, stony and slippery beneath him. Halima was wriggling and struggling on his back, but she kept holding on tight - too tight, around his neck. Ben looked up and opened his eyes to see sunlight streaming through the surface of the water. It was close. They couldn't be far from the edge now. Battling against the current, he took a step through the water. It was like wading through treacle, but somehow he managed it. And then another step. And then, if he stood on tiptoes, he could just get his head above the water. He gasped loudly, filling his air-starved lungs with a deathly rasp.

Halima was still on his back, so her head was already above water. 'Put me down,' she ordered. 'I can walk from here.'

Ben did as she said. And then he made the mistake of looking behind him. His eyes just above the level of the water, he could see the telltale mounds of crocodiles in the middle of the river, like floating logs. 'Hurry up,' he gasped. 'We have to get out of the water.' They waded towards the shore, urgently trying to get there as quickly as possible, but frustrated by the resistance of the water. It seemed to take for ever.

Gradually, though, the water became suddenly less deep, and they were able to run out, desperate to put distance between themselves and the circling crocs, despite the fact that the stones were cutting into their bare feet. Quickly Ben gathered their shoes; but once he had done so, he felt his legs collapse, jelly-like, beneath him. He was dizzy with exhaustion.

But Halima would not let him sit down. She started pulling at his arm: 'We have to get away from the river, Ben. The crocodiles are coming!' Ben looked out over the water to see she was right; the mounds were not so far away now, and getting closer. He forced himself to stand up, and then the two of them ran, still holding their wet shoes, behind the trees that lined the river.

The forest was less thick here, and if Ben's body had not been so desperately tired they could have run faster. But after a couple of minutes he could go no further. 'Stop!' he tried to say; but all that came out was a hoarse, high-pitched wheeze. Then he bent over and, unable to help himself, started to retch.

He would have been sick, but there was nothing in his stomach to come up.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

It took Ben a good fifteen minutes to recover. He sat on the stump of a felled tree, struggling for breath and bent double with pain. Halima sat on a stump too, her wet hair sticking to the side of her face as she gazed at him with a kind of wonder.

Eventually Ben found his voice. 'You OK?' he asked weakly.

Halima nodded with a mysterious smile. 'Yes,' she said. 'I am OK. Thanks to you.' Her eyes seemed to bore straight into him.

Ben found his face reddening, and he was suddenly overcome with the urge to change the subject. 'I wish we could find some dry clothes,' he said, looking down at himself so as to avoid Halima's gaze. The sunlight beneath the trees was too dappled, and the humidity was too intense, for them to dry off.

Halima smiled. 'It will rain soon. Then we will be even wetter, if we do not reach the village beforehand.'

'We'd better go then,' Ben agreed. He forced himself onto his feet, and was alarmed by how stiff his muscles were. Best to keep moving, he thought to himself. If I sit here for too long, I'll never get up.

There was no road as such leading to the village, but Halima led the way confidently enough. Ben tried to ignore the wetness of his shoes, which were causing blisters on his skin as he walked, and it was with a certain sense of satisfaction that he saw the trees thinning out even more. 'Here,' Halima said finally. She sounded subdued.

Ahead of them was a clearing. It was deserted, but it was obvious that there had recently been activity here. It was surrounded on three sides by trees, although on one of those sides the greenery had been crudely hacked away to make room for a rough dirt track. A long pile of earth was mounded up alongside a wide trench; parallel to these were other trenches that had clearly been recently filled in. Ben felt sick as a realization gradually dawned on him - a realization that was confirmed when Halima spoke. 'My mother and father lie here,' she whispered.

Ben looked at her in horror. 'Is this a mass grave?'

Halima nodded mutely, her jaw clenched.

'Why?' Ben breathed.

'I told you, the people from my village are dying quickly. There is not the time or resources to make separate graves for them all.'

Suddenly there was a noise beyond the trees: a vehicle. Ben and Halima scurried to hide behind a bush, and from their hiding place they looked out on to the grave. An old truck trundled up the path, coming to a halt at the top of the trench. As he watched, Ben felt a horrible premonition of what was to come, but somehow he couldn't turn his eyes away. Two men climbed out of the truck, opened up the back and strained as they pulled off a body, one holding the shoulders, the other holding the feet. From this distance Ben couldn't tell if the corpse was male or female; but he could see the skin was black. He felt a sense of guilty relief: it wasn't his dad.

The two men returned to the back of the truck and pulled off another body. Ben blinked, and a shudder passed through him.

It was a body of a child.

The tiny corpse was given no more ceremony than the one that went before; it too was slung into the deep grave, before the men pulled a pair of shovels out of the back of the truck and started to cover the latest occupants in loose dirt. It looked like back-breaking work - clearly the bodies needed to be well covered in order to stop wild animals from digging them up. Soon, though, their work was done and they drove off.

When Ben turned to look at Halima, her face was grim. She muttered something to herself in Kikongo.

'What did you say?' Ben asked.

Halima shook her head. 'It doesn't matter,' she told him.

Ben felt a surge of sympathy for her. What must it be like, he wondered, to know that your parents were rotting in an unmarked grave, just two out of countless forgotten corpses? 'We're going to put a stop to this,' he said calmly.

'How can we?' Halima's eyes were distant, and she spoke as though she had lost hope.

'By stopping the spread of this vi--' He cut himself short. Halima didn't believe in the virus, not really.

But she knew the mine had to close. 'Listen, Halima,' he said, slowly and patiently. 'I have to make this phone call to England. It's the only way the mine is going to be shut down. And you know it
has
to be shut, don't you?' Halima nodded.

'Good. Because if it isn't, this won't be the only mass grave in your country. There will be thousands of them, in every town and every village. It could be a disaster like the world has never seen. Trust me, I know a thing or two about disasters.'

He let that sink in for a moment.

'Shall we go?' he continued.

Halima smiled thinly as she nodded her head. 'Yes, Ben,' she said. 'Let us go.'

They saw nobody as they hurried away from the graves. Hardly surprising, Ben thought. It's not the sort of place you want to hang around. 'Do you know where Suliman's office is?' he asked after a little while.

'Yes,' Halima stated. 'It is by the mine, not far from here. But his men will be all around - we will not be able to get there without being seen. And what if he is in his office?'

Ben's eyebrows furrowed. Halima was right, of course. They had been concentrating so hard on getting to the village that they had not devised any kind of plan to get to the satellite phone. 'Let's cross that bridge when we come to it,' he said, a bit unconvincingly.

The decision was upon them sooner than expected. Before long they found themselves skirting the edges of the mine. It was busy: dejected-looking workers were trudging around, and guards with the now -familiar AK-47s seemed to be everywhere. It looked to Ben like an impossible situation; as soon as they stepped out into the open they would be seen. And shot, most probably.

Ben chewed on his lower lip in worry. 'What are we going to do?' he whispered to Halima as they crouched down together behind a low bush.

As if in answer to their question, Ben heard a low rumble in the near-distance. It sounded strangely out of place here. 'Was that . . . ?'

A broad smile spread across Halima's face.

'Thunder,' she confirmed. 'The rains are coming.'

'We need to find shelter,' Ben worried.

But Halima was still smiling. 'No,' she said. 'It is not us who will find shelter. Watch.'

Ben could scarcely believe the speed with which the skies darkened. There were no rolling clouds, just an all-pervasive gloom that seemed to stick to everything.

And then it started to rain.

At first the drops were infrequent, but strangely heavy. They splatted on the dusty earth like bullets. Ben watched in wonder as all the men drifting around the mine seemed to disappear into huts and shelters.

Soon enough he saw why.

Ben had never encountered rain like it. It gushed from the sky like a waterfall in the air. Within minutes the dusty roads had turned to fast-moving streams, and their clothes were as heavy with water as they had been when they came out of the river. Rain streamed down their faces and crashed noisily around them. Halima pointed at a hut that was larger than the others. 'That is Suliman's office,' she screamed, struggling to make herself heard above the noise of the rain.

'OK,' Ben yelled back. 'Let's go!'

As the first heavy drops of rain fell upon Abele's face, his sore eyelids opened with difficulty.

It was day now, and the light seemed to pierce his eyes right through to the very centre of his skull. His body was shaking violently, and his stomach was knotted with nausea. He had no idea how long he had been lying there, nor did he feel in any state to move.

Then it all came flooding back: Russell Tracey, Suliman, the fire. People were in danger. He had to do something.

He struggled weakly to push himself up from the ground, wincing as his burned hands scraped against some jagged stones. Once he was on his feet, he had to grab hold of a nearby sapling to steady himself. The world seemed to spin and he nearly collapsed into a shivering pile; but somehow, something kept him going and he staggered back onto the road. The rain was falling heavily now, so heavily that it seemed to bruise the top of his head, and as he stood there, soaked to the skin, he became aware of his heavy breathing, rasping and gasping. His mind was disorientated and he looked in confusion around him, unable to work out which direction led to the village and which back to the mine. He chose a direction at random - minewards - and staggered along the road. Occasionally he fell and had to push himself back up again, his face grimacing and muscles straining. It was the hardest thing he had ever done.

Both the rain and the illness blurred Abele's vision, so he could not be sure, once he had covered the short distance to the mine area, that his eyes were not deceiving him. He blinked and looked again: it certainly seemed like them. Ben and Halima were rushing across the empty ground, their hands covering their heads to protect them from the pelting rain. They headed towards Suliman's office, then looked furtively around before sneaking inside. What were they doing? Abele tried to make his brain work, but it was spinning and confused. He tried to call out to them, but his voice failed him and he merely doubled over in a fit of coughing. As he straightened up, he lost his balance and fell to the ground, facing the opposite way, back towards the village.

Again he blinked. There was a Land Rover on the road, travelling slowly because of the rain, with its headlights on full beam. It was heading straight for Abele who, rather than move out of the way, simply sat there staring, unable to force his body into action.

The sound of the rain blotted out the noise of the vehicle's engine until it was nearly upon Abele; by the time it was that close, he became aware of the fact that the horn was beeping loudly. The Land Rover stopped a few metres away, waiting for him to shift out of the way, the horn continuing to honk; but Abele just stayed where he was, unable to move. The windscreen wipers swished furiously, but still the heavy rain made it impossible to tell who was in the vehicle, and no doubt the driver had just as much difficulty seeing out.