“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.
“Bring him into the hut you were in,” Terrance told David. His idea, as much as he had one, was to hide behind the Land Rover on the assumption that whoever was coming would park near it. If it was rangers, he would emerge and be grateful. But if it was Russians, he’d have the element of surprise and be close enough that he might be able to shoot one. Friend or foe, lady or the tiger.
At least, it was only a single vehicle. Still, how many people might be inside it? For all he knew, it was a fucking clown car with a militia of Russians piling out.
Let it be only one person, he prayed softly. Then he changed his mind: No, let it be many people, and let them be rangers.
And still David wasn’t herding this Glenn—or whatever his name was—into the hut. He was just standing there, apparently so frightened that he was paralyzed.
“David, move him now!” Terrance said, his voice a bark he didn’t much like.
Half-heartedly, David pushed him toward the hut, and the Russian responded in slow motion. But at least they were heading in the right direction. Terrance ran to the Land Rover and crouched down.
And then it was almost upon him. A jeep. Even in the twilight he could see there were two men in the front seats, but there could be more in the back. And the pair up front were white, which meant it was unlikely they were rangers. He brought the rifle to his shoulder and peered through the sight as the vehicle slowed. From this spot, he might be able to take out one of them when it stopped.
It was too dark to see whether the Russian with the crazy blue eyes was inside it, but he supposed he was.
And now it was stopping and Terrance had to decide: did he shoot?
Which was when he felt the twine around his neck yanking him back, his feet almost coming out from under him. He swung the rifle over his head toward whoever was choking him, but he missed, and so he dropped the gun and tried to wedge his fingers under the cord, but he couldn’t breathe and it hurt like hell, and he was failing. The idea crossed his mind: This is where it ends. This is how I die. But he got a single finger under the twine, then two, and he was able to inhale just enough oxygen that he could use his legs to push his whole body as hard as he could into his attacker, and it worked. He sent them both careening into the Land Rover and then onto the ground, the guy’s head banging hard into the earth, and when he looked around he saw that it was, as he expected, Glenn. Or whatever his name was.