The Greystoke Legacy, page 14
Before meeting Tarzan she had no idea what wonders the jungle held, but now she was back to being a part of their destruction.
The only welcome additions were hot water, clean clothes, and the hot meals Esmée prepared, although Jane did prod the meat in the stew thoughtfully as she wondered what animal it had come from.
She had been impressed by how much she had remembered from her lessons about life in the jungle and had pressed Esmée to reveal everything she knew about the jungle’s mysteries. Her teacher gently assured her that lessons would be suspended until she was feeling better.
Robbie had tried to get her interested in helping him fix the jeep, which was proving to be a tough problem without the correct spare parts. Jane sat with him for a few hours, but watching Robbie repair the engine and getting covered in oil held no appeal.
Archie kept a close eye on her and soon Jane was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the omnipresent surveillance. Robbie had returned her iPhone, which was now working, despite the numerous dunks it had taken. The screen was damaged but she thought she could still type her thoughts in another email to Hazel, knowing full well it would never be sent.
Sitting on a stump at the edge of the encampment she stared at the blank email, but inspiration to chronicle her time in the jungle refused to come. She no longer felt the desire to complain about her life. Something had changed inside her, but she wasn’t sure exactly what. She put the phone away and stared at the dead trees that formed a barrier between their little town and the beguiling jungle beyond. She peered curiously into the darkness beyond. A quick glance behind revealed Robbie had stopped tinkering with the engine and was watching her. She turned back to the trees and spoke in a low voice.
“Tarzan? Are you there?”
There was no reply. She scanned the trees for any signs of life, half hoping Tantor would come blustering out of the bush. But there was nothing.
•••
Robbie watched Jane as she stared at the trees. He felt sorry for her—she must be feeing terribly confused to have spouted the nonsensical stories she had.
As the second day wore on, Robbie could see Jane was becoming reserved and listless. He was worried she might be suffering from an infection, but there was nothing they could do for her in the camp. They had to get Jane to the nearest town.
Robbie focused his attention on the jeep’s engine. He had used a small pocketknife to whittle some improvised parts in place and finally reassembled it. He slipped the knife into his pocket and turned the ignition. After a few spluttering starts the vehicle rumbled to life. Satisfied with his handiwork, he finally confided in Archie.
“I think she needs to see a doctor,” he said, then quickly corrected himself, remembering Archie’s past. “One with antibiotics.”
He sat with Archie and Esmée in the empty bar. Clark was out wrangling the men and Jane now never came inside if she could help it. Archie drummed his fingers on the wooden bar.
“Sleeping sickness, maybe,” said Esmée, who had also noticed Jane’s change in behavior.
“Trypanosomiasis,” said Archie, recalling his medical training. “It could be weeks or months for any symptoms to show. But she says she has no infected bites. I’m more worried about her leg. That’s a nasty scar and whatever the natives gave her, I’d feel better if we can get her some antibiotics. Amoxicillin will do. I also think she’s still in shock. Last night she even asked me to stop logging. Asked—not shouted.”
Esmée didn’t respond. She could see the damage the logging was causing, but she needed the job.
Robbie frowned. “And then what would we do?” He felt protective of the expedition. He still needed a lot more money to start the new life he dreamed of and had several years of toil ahead of him.
“That’s exactly what I said to her. She just got upset and stormed out.”
“The girl needs time away from ’ere,” said Esmée. “It’s ’nough to drive anybody crazy.” Archie looked offended. “Well, it is! Ain’t no place for her. I’m not talkin’ ’bout a holiday. Just a day to the town maybe. Do her good.”
Robbie nodded enthusiastically. Now Jane was back safe and sound, his concern had turned to his own problems. The last thing he wanted was Jane spreading ideas about closing down the logging operation. He half believed Archie would do it if it meant keeping his daughter safe.
“Now I’ve got the jeep running I can go for supplies. She can come with me.”
Archie wasn’t sure. The idea of sending two Americans to the town wasn’t very appealing. He was trying to make sure they kept a low profile.
“Mister David usually does the run.”
“But you need him here since we’re so far behind our quota. And I’d have to go because if the jeep breaks down again, I’m the only one who can fix it.” Robbie tried not to sound desperate but this was a chance to break away from Clark’s shadow and prove his value to the camp.
Archie rubbed his chin stubble; he liked Robbie’s determination. It reminded him of how he’d behaved when he was younger.
Robbie dropped in his trump card. “They have a charity outpost there with a doctor. I can make sure they look at her.”
Archie squinted at Robbie, weighing him up. He eventually smiled and nodded his consent.
•••
Since commanding Tantor to deliver Jane to her home, Tarzan had taken to the trees and kept vigil. He didn’t trust the band of loggers and could not understand Jane’s insistence on returning to them. There were many encampments hidden under the vast, verdant canopy and almost every one had offended Tarzan by despoiling the land, slashing and burning the forest, and butchering animals—not for food but as trophies. He had traveled far and wide, and had encountered urban towns and war zones, but the smells and activity had warned him away. Occasionally he came across small groups of travelers who only seemed to want to observe nature. These he let pass, although he kept a wary eye on them.
He had watched as Jane’s tribe protectively gathered around her and she appeared happy to be amongst her own people. In the following days, Tarzan prowled around the logging operation. During daylight hours he kept to the safety of the trees, but at night he would sneak across the camp’s lantern boundary to investigate further. An armed sentinel patrolled the base, a shotgun lazily cradled in his arm. Tarzan knew about these inhumane weapons and had considered attacking the guard, but refrained because he was a member of Jane’s tribe. Instead, he set about mischievous tasks. He would use sticks to wedge doors closed, trapping their occupants inside. Ribbons, used by the loggers to mark trails, would vanish or be set up to form a circular path. Tarzan would take great delight in watching the loggers’ faces as they realized they’d walked back into the camp they’d just left. He also enjoyed their expressions of fear as they glanced at the trees.
He watched Jane, and was disappointed that she made no effort to enter the jungle. Her friend was always at her side; he had caught the name Robbie several times. Even though Robbie smelled of oil and steel, odors that Tarzan found offensive, he knew she was safe and he began to realize his first thought had been correct: She wasn’t going to return. He felt this with a deep sadness, the same disconsolation he had felt when D’Arnot had left him to head back to civilization. Even then, Tarzan had known that he was being abandoned and would never see his friend again. He was proved right when he discovered D’Arnot’s body weeks later. What had happened to the Frenchman in the interim remained a mystery to Tarzan.
Even with Jane amongst them, he couldn’t ignore the fact the tribe was destroying his kingdom. Many times he could barely control his rage as they felled the ancient trees. By the second day, his anger was escalating and he knew he must leave before he drew blood. But he still felt the urge to pay the loggers one last visit. It wasn’t difficult to follow their trail of destruction—a channel of trees had been cut down, the undergrowth beneath burnt clear so the loggers could drag the timber to the river.
From his vantage point, Tarzan was outraged at the new swathe of deforestation. His nostrils detected burnt flesh, and he found the coiled body of an armored giant pangolin, a funny creature that ate ants and did little else but amuse Tarzan. The poor creature must have been sleeping when it was burnt alive. Even for this unintended death, Tarzan was outraged and saw red—and his anger goaded him into taking risks. Despite the loyalty he felt toward Jane he could not let the loggers go unpunished.
In broad daylight he had stalked the loggers as they rolled a log into the river, made all the more difficult since Tarzan had sabotaged their large yellow machine. The river was now choked with floating trunks that needed to be shepherded downstream. Tarzan picked out the team leader, the sunburnt one they called Archie. He would kill him first.
Tarzan was outnumbered, but doubted the weaker men could defeat him. A chainsaw lay behind one logger. Tarzan had seen the noisy blades chew effortlessly through wood and wondered what effect they would have on flesh. This machine was silent, but Tarzan would make it roar.
He took the chainsaw . . . then hesitated. By the time a logger turned to retrieve the saw, Tarzan was back under cover with the weapon. He had not forgotten Jane’s words that this tribe was not evil, but he still didn’t fully understand. However, her words had had some effect. Would killing these people really stop the destruction? More would come to replace them.
Tarzan examined the chainsaw but couldn’t see how to bring it to life so he threw it into the river. This time killing was not the answer. He hoped Jane would stay true to her promise and persuade them to leave peacefully.
•••
At first, Jane had refused the offer to travel to the village with Robbie. He was surprised, as she’d previously have jumped at the chance to leave the camp. He didn’t want to mention his ulterior motive of getting her to the doctor, so instead he cajoled her by reminding her that there was an Internet connection. As he’d thought she would, Jane changed her mind and agreed to accompany him.
The drive along the red jungle track was arduous. Even with the jeep’s modified suspension the vehicle jolted from side to side, tossing them into the doors, which kept threatening to open and throw them out. Jane gripped the dash for stability. Every so often they would splash through red muddy puddles that would obliterate the view through the windshield. Windshield wipers would scrape across the glass but do little more than leave muddy streaks. Robbie was better off driving with his head out of the window, which he did for a few seconds before overhanging branches struck the side of the vehicle and forced him back inside.
The last few times they had made the trip, Jane had looked terrified. Now Robbie noticed she was calm and collected as the car bounced over a bump so fast the wheels left the ground. They thudded back to the track with a loud creak from the suspension. Robbie had done it on purpose. He glanced at Jane. She would normally be complaining by this point. Instead she was gazing thoughtfully through the window.
“Have you remembered anything more about what happened to you?” he asked with concern.
Jane shot him an annoyed look, which she quickly covered up. “I already said.”
Robbie laughed. “I thought we’d got to the bottom of that Tarzan thing. You were in a fever, somebody looked after you. A tribe maybe? All that ape stuff was in your head.”
“You weren’t there,” she said defensively and unconsciously rubbed the scar on her leg. Archie had removed the ant-head sutures, replacing them with wire stitches. He had admitted to Jane how impressed he was with the improvised stitching. “It was real.”
They had been traveling for almost three hours, so Robbie thought there was no harm in voicing his motives for the trip. They didn’t have enough fuel to return, so Jane would have to go to the town like it or not.
“Listen, Archie and me want you to see a doctor in the town.”
Jane’s expression was thunderous. “What?”
Robbie kept his tone reasonable. “There’s one of those Doctors Without Borders posts there. You just need to get checked out properly.”
“No!”
“Jane, it’s just to be sure you’re OK.”
“And nobody consulted me about this? I might have an opinion on the matter?”
“You’re sick and we’re concerned—”
“God! You sound like the brother I don’t have and don’t want!” Robbie smarted from the comment. “I get Archie springing this on me, but you? I thought we were friends—but I guess I was very wrong about that.”
Robbie had suffered enough arguments at home and always sought to avoid them, but Jane’s contentious behavior irked him. “I risked my life looking for you! I was searching when no one else would! I got bit, chased, almost shot . . . at least you could have the courtesy of listening to me!”
The jeep hit a ditch and shuddered as the transmission struck rocks. Robbie cursed and hoped the vehicle wasn’t damaged. The momentary distraction was enough to hush them both, until Jane spoke up in no more than a whisper.
“You don’t believe me.”
“Do you blame me? Some guy out there lives with the animals, talks to them, and looked after you despite attacking us? And then this eco-warrior just dumps you back in the camp, riding an elephant, and disappears into the forest.” He risked removing one hand from the wheel to demonstrate a magic puff of smoke. He decided to take a different tack to get his point across. “You know you have to be careful what you eat out there. A lot of it is poisonous and some of it is hallucinogenic, makes you see wild stuff. Can’t you see that it was all just a feverish dream?”
Jane remained silent and refused to look at him. Now Robbie felt guilty. Jane had been through the wringer and didn’t deserve his sharp remarks. He glanced at her, the way she pouted, the way her hair partially hid her profile—it all reminded him of Sophie.
“Sorry,” he muttered. He wasn’t used to apologizing but Jane had a knack of wrapping him around her finger.
Jane broke her frosty gaze and nodded graciously. He caught her staring at him several times.
“What?” he asked.
“Why are you out here?”
Robbie felt uncomfortable. He had always tried to avoid telling Jane about his life.
“I had a sister, Sophie . . . who died. She was all the family I had left. When that happened I felt I had no reason to carry on. So I ran away.”
Saying “sorry” seemed rather pointless, so Jane remained silent for several minutes. It was the first time Robbie had mentioned his sister and she wanted to know more.
“I’ve been thinking about why people are here,” said Jane.
“Deep.”
“I mean here in the Congo. Everybody has a story. Clark has always been looking for risky gambles, we’re stuck here because we’re broke and have too many loan sharks looking for us. And you . . . because your sister died.”
Robbie nodded in agreement. He didn’t understand what her question was. He caught her staring at him with a frown.
“What’re you thinking?” he said.
Jane shook her head, but something was obviously on her mind. After a few minutes of contemplative thought she spoke up.
“Tell you what. I’ll go see the doctor if it keeps you and Dad happy.”
“Thanks.” He shot her a warm smile. She had caved in quicker than he’d anticipated.
“And when you go shopping for supplies, I’m going to find that Internet connection and try and email a few friends.”
“Deal.” Robbie was glad she was finally going along with the plan, but couldn’t shake the feeling Jane was not telling him everything.
•••
The town of Sango was a large collection of dwellings and shops clustered on the bank of a meandering tributary that fed the Congo River. Although most locals were farmers, armed rangers used the town as a base to counter poaching activities. The town also had a lucrative black market dealing with valuable animal parts that could be smuggled out via road, river, or air.
The fertile hills around Sango had been cultivated for potato crops, and the town boasted an airfield—or rather a strip of flat dirt and a corrugated-iron shelter that served as the terminal. Power cables and telephone lines followed a lone tarmac road that led to civilization.
As Robbie and Jane entered, they were immediately hit by the smell of progress—overstressed sewers, gasoline fumes from numerous vehicles that were no longer roadworthy, a market square with stalls selling meat and fish that hung in the afternoon sun and were swarmed by flies. Scrawny dogs strayed through the streets, scattering chickens foraging amongst the piles of plastic waste. Somewhere a radio played tinny Congo rumba guitar tunes. Raised voices and laughter filled a bar with young and old people clutching cold beers as they sat on ancient furniture.
They located the Doctors Without Borders post and Jane was seen to immediately. The doctor, an elderly Australian woman, was impressed with the care Jane’s wounds had received. She could find nothing wrong, but agreed that there was every possibility Jane had had a fever, and fetched some antibiotics. That satisfied Robbie and he whispered to Jane:
“See, told you this Tarzan was just a bizarre hallucination. You’ll be OK.”
Jane didn’t reply. She accepted a bottle of antibiotics just in case there was a slight infection. Both she and Robbie were thankful the doctor didn’t inquire why they were in the middle of the jungle—the doctor had been in many Third World countries and had learned it was best not to ask.
Robbie took Jane to a building with white paint flaking from its façade. The handwritten sign above claimed it supplied mobile phones and had an Internet connection. The phones were all old recycled ones, and Jane was surprised to see she could get a signal, although her phone refused to connect to the single provider that flashed up.
Robbie paid for her Internet use upfront and set about purchasing supplies. He hated this part of his job, as it involved haggling, and he was never very good at it. Mister David had laughed many a time when Robbie had paid over twenty times the going rate. Now he was spending Archie’s money, he had to be careful. He took one final look at Jane and was satisfied to see her engrossed in the computer screen.
