Mists of the Serengeti(64)

“There’s a train coming! We need to get on it. Fast!” I said to Jack, but he was gazing at the train and then at the car. “Jack? What are you doing? There’s no time to waste.”

He shifted the child off his shoulder and started unzipping his backpack. “Do we have any rubbing alcohol left in the first aid kit?”

“Yes, but—”

“Catch.” He hurled the bottle my way. Then he pulled out a couple of his T-shirts and started ripping them apart. “We need to stop that train, and there’s no way the driver is going to see us in the dark. We need to light some torches.”

He gave some of the cotton strips to a couple of the kids and pointed to a dead thorn tree that had fallen victim to the harshness of the plains. “Leteni tawi.”

They rushed off, gathering branches from the tree, wrapping the ends with the strips, so the thorns didn’t scratch them.

“Jack. Look!” I exclaimed. Another car was now trailing the first one, its headlights glinting like snake eyes in the dark.

“Fuck. They’ve brought reinforcements.” Jack was whittling the thorns off the branches, all except for the ones at the top. He wrapped those in cotton and doused it with the rubbing alcohol. He assembled more torches in quick succession, racing against the cars that were getting closer and closer. The air was thick with urgency and desperation. It soaked through my skin, leaving a thin film of sweat. The kids stood by, still and silent, as if their voices had already been muted.

“Hold them high,” said Jack, handing out the torches to the older kids. “Don’t be afraid.” His thumb struck the wheel of the lighter as he set them on fire.

One by one, the flames came to life, ten hot, swirling suns illuminating the night. The ground around us ebbed and flowed in waves of flickering, golden light.

“They can see us now,” I said, turning toward the cars.

“And so can they.” Jack pointed to the train. It was still a distance away, but approaching fast. “The question is, which one’s going to get to us first?”

We weren’t too far from the railway tracks, and yet they seemed like an eternity away. My breath came in short, shaky bursts as we raced across the brittle ground. One of the kids ahead of me tumbled and fell. I weaved and grabbed her, hoisting her up on my hip. My lungs were on fire, my legs trembled under the extra weight, but I kept running. I would run until the skin on my soles wore off because that’s what you do when monsters are gnashing at your feet. You lock up your screams, your panic, your fear, and you outrun the suckers.

I fixed my eyes on Jack and kept going. His torch shone ahead, white smoke drifting skyward. The kids were flocked on either side of him, radiating out in a V, the older ones in front, the younger ones trying to keep up. They were a flock of birds—homeward-bound—on wings of fire. It was such a surreal, powerful spectacle, that it slipped through all the chaos and panic, and became forever seared in my mind.

We stumbled upon the tracks, our eyes skimming the horizon for the cars. They were gaining on us.

“Quickly now.” Jack positioned the kids, shoulder to shoulder, on both sides of the track. “You can let go now,” he said to me.

I realized I was still clutching the little girl I had picked up. My grip loosened and I let her slide slowly to the ground. She took her place with the other children, her alabaster skin flushed with the heat of their torches. Together they formed a wall of bright, blazing light.

I stood with Jack in the middle of the railway track. The gravel under my feet pulsed as the train thundered closer.

Oh God. Please stop, please stop, please stop.

Jack threaded his fingers through mine. It was as if he could sense the tension building up in me.

“Hold tight and don’t let go,” he said.

He was holding the torch over us with his other hand. His eyes blazed and glowed with the light of the flames, but there was something more—something driven, and solid, and purposeful. At first, I couldn’t put my finger on it. And then it hit me.

Do you believe in your own magic? I had once asked Jack.

I stopped believing. After Lily.

But I was watching the profile of a man who believed, and I gloried in the moment we were sharing, come what may.

“Jack’s back,” I said.

“What?” His voice was swallowed by the metallic squealing of the carriages as the train’s headlights bore down on us. The tracks thrummed as the locomotive came hurtling along the tracks, full speed ahead.

Jack swore under his breath. “It’s not going to stop.”

“Why not?” I started waving my hand over my head. “I’m sure they can see us. We’re all lit up.”

“It’s a freight train. If the driver’s fallen asleep, or they don’t have eyes up front, we’re screwed.”

The train was approaching us at an alarming rate. And so were the cars. We could make out the rectangular patch of light reflecting off the number plate on the first one.

“Here.” Jack handed me his torch. “Get yourself and the kids out of the way.”

“What are you doing?” My stomach churned as he got his rifle out.

“Stay on the other side. All of you. It will take a while for the train to pass. The men won’t be able to get to you.”

“And you? Jack, you need to get off the track!” I was shouting so he could hear me over the rumble of the train.