The Lioness(60)

He sat on that front seat with one leg dangling out the front door. “I can’t find it,” he said. “Where else might it be?”

The guy shrugged. “Maybe it rolled into the back seats.” He seemed to be enjoying this.

Terrance could use this same process with the second row of seats: sit half in and half out of the vehicle with the door open, keeping watch over his captive. But if the flashlight had rolled into the third or fourth row? He was fucked. There were no doors that far back. You had to climb into the vehicle. He had to hope it was in the second row.

He rested the rifle on his thigh, his right finger on the trigger, and walked the fingers of his left hand like a spider under the seat. The idea there might be actual spiders there caused him to pause, but only for a second.

And, yes, there it was. The flashlight. It was smaller than he hoped, but it would do. The silver metal was starting to rust, but it worked. He jumped to the ground, satisfied, though he understood this was only the first step. Now he had to get Billy or David untied. After that, it would get easier. Not easy. But easier.

“Now you have a flashlight,” the Russian said, smiling. “A flashlight and a gun. Good for you.”

Terrance thought the ornery motherfucker might laugh. His moment of gratification at discovering the torch already had been undone. This creep just didn’t seem to understand or care about the gravity of his situation. The precariousness.

“We’re going to go into that hut and untie David Hill.”

“You’ll keep the lady tied up?”

“I will. Now move.” He pointed at the hut where he thought David was restrained and motioned for his captive to walk ahead of him. When they reached the entrance, he said, “We’re going inside, and you’re going to untie my friend. I swear to Christ, you do one thing other than untie him, and I will fucking shoot you. You so much as hiccup or flinch, and I will fucking shoot you.”

“You don’t want to kill me. If you wanted to kill me, I’d be dead now.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But I will.”

He turned on the flashlight and put the slender tip of the handle in his mouth, the metallic taste bitter. He had to bite down on it with his teeth. He aimed the rifle at the Russian, and the fellow followed the light into the hut. He bent low as he entered the section with the sleeping pallet. And there was David. He squinted against the beam, but when the Russian knelt on the dirt floor and untied his hands, he said, his voice raspy, “Terrance. It’s you.”

Terrance didn’t respond because his teeth were clenched around the flashlight. He didn’t even nod. But he was shocked at the way they’d tied David up: it looked like a torture rack. Terrance’s hands had been bound at the wrists and his legs had been tied to one of the posts that held the sleeping pallet, but at least he could sit or lie down if he wanted. David, on the other hand, had been restrained flat on his back, his hands over his head. It looked medieval. It looked excruciating. Terrance watched as the Russian untied David’s feet and the other American sat up. Only then did Terrance spit out the flashlight. Instantly he picked it up off the dirt.

“David, holy shit. You okay?” he asked.

“More or less,” David mumbled, rolling his shoulders.

“You’re positive?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

He eyed Katie’s husband carefully. He seemed stunned, but not incapacitated. “Well, then: tie him up, this Russian,” Terrance said.

“I’m not sure I know how.”

“Pull his hands behind his back and loop the twine around his wrists.”

“I wasn’t even a Boy—”

“Tie him the fuck up, David! Just do it. Pretend you’re tying your goddamn shoes.”

David stood, a little wobbly, and asked the Russian to turn around. When he did, Terrance looked into his face, and the man grinned. It was as if he knew something, but Terrance couldn’t begin to imagine what it could be.

“I think that will hold,” David said, after working the twine. “But I’m not sure.”

“Make sure,” Terrance told him.

“I did my—”

“Make sure.”

He watched as David pulled the cords and the Russian winced. Then Terrance used the barrel of his rifle to prod his captive outside into the center of the boma. David walked behind them.

“Let’s get Billy next,” Terrance said. “Then we’ll get Katie. I’ll guard this one while you untie Billy.”

David seemed to be digesting this. He was responding to everything Terrance said with hesitation and unease, and while Terrance understood why—the poor bastard had been tortured worse than he himself had—it was frustrating the hell out of him. Where was his resilience? Why wasn’t his adrenaline kicking in? “Did you hear me?” he asked him.

“Yeah. I did.”

Terrance realized he was overestimating how much help David was going to be. He seemed more than stunned: he seemed shell-shocked. “Let’s go,” Terrance said to them both.

But right away they stopped, because they heard the sound of a vehicle, the engine swamping the birdsong and the looing of the wildebeest. It was racing through the dusk, but within seconds Terrance could see headlights.

Terrance looked at the Russian. “Maybe they’re rangers,” the guy said, but he was smirking.