True Places(29)

But nothing looked familiar. She began to walk away from the sunset, down the slope she had climbed. She knew she had come through brush, but how long ago was that? The thought of entering a thicket in full darkness terrified her; she would surely become lost. A darker area about a half mile away might be the brush she had emerged from. But then why couldn’t she see any lights? Her throat closed and her hands went cold. She was just as lost out in the open as she would be in the brush. In her despair, Suzanne lowered herself onto the ground and covered her head with her arms. She imagined Dmitri with his arms around Anneka in a quiet corner of a room, or in bed. Nausea rose from her stomach; she clenched her teeth to keep from vomiting.

She was so very stupid. Stupid enough to be taken in by his charms, to believe he was a good man who cared for her, would perhaps love her one day, one day soon. She was unbearably stupid.

A memory surfaced, unbidden. A week ago—not more than ten days, anyway—she’d had dinner with Dmitri, then lingered after he’d gone, talking to two women about their cheetah research. She eventually left and stopped by the lab, having forgotten her notebook there. Dmitri was at a computer and Anneka had one hip on the desk, her foot wedged in the rungs of Dmitri’s chair, flip-flop lying on the floor. As Suzanne played the scene in her mind, Anneka had lowered her foot just then, had adjusted her posture at the sight of Suzanne, and yet Suzanne had not noticed at the time. She had not seen until now how Anneka’s initial expression upon seeing Suzanne was cold and vanquishing before it shifted to a smile, how the reverse trajectory of Anneka’s foot led to Dmitri’s crotch. Suzanne had not seen this, or perhaps a million other things.

All summer her love for Dmitri had been like falling into an icy lake. The cold took her breath away—she gasped—but it was not truly cold at all. It was refreshing, awakening, cleansing. She’d never felt so alive, her blood buzzing with life. But what she had not paid attention to was the numbing of her toes and fingers, how the cold spread to her center, and to her brain, until she could not see what was in front of her. That’s how frozen she had become. She should have known the truth all along. She thought that because she had finally fallen in love, Dmitri must love her, too. It had never occurred to her he might not.

A hyena whooped in the distance, sending a chill down her spine. Several more hyenas joined in, this group closer. Were they hunting? She tried to remember whether they called to each other before hunting, but her mind was scrambled by her anguish. If she had to wait until morning to find her way back, where was the best place to hide? Not the kopje, that was certain. Animals congregated there.

All at once, her heartbeat was thunderous in her ears and a searing pain drove into her chest. Sweat poured from her forehead, her underarms. She swayed and braced herself against the ground with her arms, too dizzy and weak to hold herself upright. She was having a heart attack. She would die right here, right now. Her heart beat like that of a hummingbird, and her entire body was awash with terror. She was dying. The pain in her chest engulfed her, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

Please stop. Let me die. Please stop. Please.

She curled into a ball, whining with fear, her throat closing around the sound. She could not feel her fingers or her toes. She was dying.

A chorus of hyena whoops and cackles. Insidious laughter.

Suzanne’s heartbeat slowed, and her chest pain eased. She lifted her head. Pitch black except for a hint of blood red on the western horizon. No moon.

She sat up and hugged her knees. Her scalp and back were damp with sweat, and she shivered. Slowly her mind calmed, and her thoughts ordered themselves.

What had happened? A heart attack? It seemed so unlikely.

She revisited her decision not to try to find her way back and concluded that wandering around in the dark was more likely to compound her problems than solve them. She climbed the slope again; a higher position seemed better. She would sit tight, hope any predators nearby left her alone, and wait for morning. Maybe someone would notice her missing before then. Not Dmitri, perhaps, but someone. She was forlorn and exhausted, but the desperation she should have felt evaded her. The only thing she desired was never to feel the unfettered panic and sense of impending death she had just experienced.

The sky was clear, and stars shone like sun glinting off a lake of black water. She was small and alone and terrified that her heart would begin racing at any moment, as if it knew of danger greater than a ranging pack of hyenas or a stalking leopard, dangers deeper and wider than she could ever imagine.

She held herself very still, dismissing the idea of looking for a stick or stone with which to defend herself. She would trust in being inconspicuous, knowing full well that her scent was already in the nostrils of animals a mile away. There was nothing she could do.

On her right in the distance, a pair of lights bounced and wavered, partially blocked by vegetation. The sound of an engine rose above the rush of the breeze.

She stood, tears flooding her eyes at the possibility of rescue. She waved uselessly.

The vehicle was heading toward her, but obliquely. She started down the slope to intercept it, searching her memory for any information about the terrain. She started to run, but then slowed again, wary of alerting animals nearby. She listened hard for a telltale snort or footfall, and when she perceived the vague outline of a stand of brush, she veered away. Buffalo were more dangerous than hyenas or lions.

The lights were a hundred yards away. The vehicle had turned a few degrees toward her. She didn’t shout; the engine noise would drown out her voice. Her foot slid into a hole and she fell sprawling. Her ankle had twisted. Choking back her cries, she got to her feet and limped toward the lights, which had swung toward her again.