The little craft, now much
lightened by the loss of two of its passengers, fairly flew across the water.
The crippled Ahram had gone under again and was nowhere to be seen amidst the
frothing and splashing that was quickly falling far astern.
They rode in stunned
silence for the next few miles and then miraculously the skiff ran up onto dry
ground and scraped to a halt. They were out. They were out of the swamp and the
stars surrounded them like fireflies. The Ahram sat crouched over their oars,
panting, too exhausted to move. The horrified humans stared at one another in
disbelief. No one wanted to believe what had happened.
“He went to try and save
the Ahram. Why? He didn’t stand a chance,” said Rose.
“Maybe he was trying to
lighten the boat to give us a chance to escape,” replied Angelo.
“I would rather have
died with him,” she said. “Oh, this is horrible.” She rang her hands as her
eyes searched hopelessly in the darkness of the forest that had swallowed him.
“This can’t be happening,” she cried. All Angelo could do was put an arm around
her and hold her shivering body close to him.
Sweet Mary seemed to be
totally catatonic, while Dutch sank even deeper into her dark depression. This
was all her fault. Her eyes glazed over as she closed herself off from the terrible
calamity.
“They just threw him
overboard,” said Rose again in disbelief. She just couldn’t let it go. “How
could they do that?”
“It’s over, Rose,” said
Angelo soothingly. “It’s done. There’s nothing we can do.”
“But they just…..” and
then words failed her and she lapsed into a stupefied silence.
Slowly, like
sleepwalkers guided by some higher volition, they got out of the boat one by one and
walked dispiritedly up the beach as if to a wake. The night sky twinkled above while
the swamp hissed and bubbled behind them.
Silently they sat on the
shoal of sand and sank inwardly, each a little island of pain unto themselves.
The night was cool and refreshing but it gave them no succour or surcease from
the memories that tormented them, each person going over and over the moment
when Righteous disappeared from view. Occasionally a sad sniff would be
swallowed up in the night air, but that was all. No-one said anything.
Then, what seemed like
hours later, they heard a faint splashing sound coming from the swamp and
immediately the dog sprang to everyone’s mind. Was it finished with its prey
and now coming for them? The Ahram were on their feet in a trice, oars and
swords at the ready, but they knew this was just a hopeless gesture. No weapon
was equal to that beast. This time there’d be no lucky escape. Everyone waited
with baited breath.
Then out of the gloom
stumbled Righteous Alchemy, with the Ahram in his arms, splashing his way up
the bank towards them.
“Righteous,” screamed
Rose, jumping up and running towards him.
Sheer jubilant
pandemonium reigned for many minutes before any sort of sense was restored.
Even Sweet Mary was in the mix, crying and hugging Righteous as if he were her
long lost brother. The Ahram too were rejoicing over their lost friend, hooting
and coughing and hugging one another.
“What happened?” asked
Angelo when the noise finally subsided.
“I don’t know,” winced
Righteous, obviously in terrible pain from the burns he’d sustained in the
boiling mud. There were terrible welts and blisters all over his body, many of
them bleeding. Any normal man would have been screaming in pain with those
wounds.
“Somehow I knew the dog
wouldn’t harm me, and I managed to get to the Ahram before it did. I just knew
it wouldn’t come near me.”
“But why? We thought it
had eaten you.”
Righteous stood for a
moment with his head to one side. “Maybe my darkness was bigger than its darkness,”
he said enigmatically. “I don’t know. Anyway, I’m alive. We’re all alive.”
“I am so happy,” said
Rose. “But I don’t think I can stand any more of this.”
There was no more time
for talk though because the Ahram had them all up and moving, anxious to put some
distance between them and the swamp should the dog decide to seek them out. As
they moved away from the green glow of the swamp the darkness returned making
it necessary for the Ahram to use their swords as torches to light the way. Wearily
and painfully they trudged up into the foothills, everyone helping the wounded
Righteous and the crippled Ahram as best they could, until they came to a sheltered
plateau with a rocky overhang for cover. There was great concern for Righteous
and the injured Ahram as both were showing signs of distress after their short
walk.
“We have to do something
for them….can’t you help us,” Rose asked the closest Ahram who continued to
ignore her and carried on setting up the camp, which consisted mainly of
placing their swords in a circle around the group to provide light and, more
importantly, warmth. It was freezing cold up on that mountainside now that they
were away from the heat of the swamp. Angelo wondered why, if those things gave
off so much heat, could the Ahram hold them without burning their hands?
“Well, they’re not
listening to me,” said Rose.
“We will have to wait and
see,” said Angelo. “I am sure they would be helping if they could. All we can
do is make Righteous as comfortable as possible. We can’t be too far away from the
Ahram’s home-base. We’re just going to have to be patient.”
But Rose was already
busy tearing the arms and legs off her bio-suit to make into bandages and
together with Angelo they bent themselves to the task of binding up the
patients as best they could.
That night the little
band of humans lay there, hungry and worried, hoping that sleep would come and
rescue them, but each time they dozed off they were woken by Righteous or the
Ahram groaning in pain.
WILL RIGHTEOUS RECOVER? ARE OUR HEROES SAFE NOW, OR IS IT A CASE OF FROM THE FRYING PAN INTO THE FIRE?
