Water (5 page)

I woke when I had no more air left, gasping and fighting my sleeping bag.

My surroundings didn’t help soothe me. I was in the open, with those ancient trees leaning over me. The early morning light filtered through a confetti of leaves. Only when I saw Luke and Josh still scrunched into their sleeping bags, mops of hair the only resemblance to humanity in their cocoon-like state, did I begin to remember where I was.

In the morning light the menace of the dream dissipated slightly. The valley was breathtakingly beautiful.

Despite the freshness of the early morning, I decided to take a “shower” under the waterfall. Slipping on moss-encased rocks, I wobbled my way around the pool to the waterfall. The upward spray from the falling water chilled my skin as I steeled myself for the shock, and stepped into the sheet of water. The icy needles of the water completely took my breath away as I stumbled backwards, turning instinctively away from the bladed water.

Gasping and blinking I found myself behind the waterfall. The rock curved away from me, smooth, damp and mottled with moss. Birds darted behind the protective screen of water to their nests higher up the cliff face.

All of these details registered only as side information as I gaped at a dark slash in the rock framed by ferns. It was positioned so that unless you approached it from exactly the right angle, it would have been invisible, blending perfectly into the rock face.

I inched my way toward the cave, curiosity winning over the instinctive fear that gripped me. From the opening, the water-filtered light only reached about half a metre into the cave, the floor of which was dark and damp.

A strange acidic musty smell seeped from the cave, and I shivered, fear and curiosity playing an uncomfortable tug of war as I considered going in alone.

Fear won.

Inching around the waterfall, I splashed my way back through the shallows to our camping site, dressing quickly and rekindling the fire for coffee as I decided how to tell the boys of my find. They woke slowly, stretching, scratching and yawning, finally dressed and eating breakfast after what felt like an age.

“I was thinking we should go and explore the cave behind the waterfall after breakfast,” I suggested, watching their confusion with smug satisfaction.

“Er… what cave, Alex?” Luke eventually asked.

“The hidden cave behind the waterfall,” I repeated.

“You mean the hollow the cliff makes?” Josh enquired.

I shook my head, watching their confusion over the rim of my cup.

“I could show you?” I suggested, grinning at them.

The flip side of the waterfall was cool and damp, the light diffusing into dappled patterns on the cliff face.

Picking our way over the slippery rocks, I led them to the wall of ferns that hid the opening to the cave. Luke and Josh stood gaping at the four -metre high opening before rushing back to the camp site to get the equipment we’d need to explore it.

Luke took the first step into the musty darkness, the morning light quickly becoming a faint flicker as we moved across the pebble-littered floor.

A few paces in Josh stopped our procession and suggested we use our torches to try to gauge the cave’s dimensions. Three beams of light bounced around the walls revealing a large circular front section, which stretched out into darkness away from the entrance, our torch light fading as it failed to reflect off any solid surface.

Josh had turned his beam to the walls of the cave a few metres to our right and started walking towards the walls of the cave.

“What is it, Josh?” I asked, picking my way forwards to follow him.

“There’s something on the rock over there.”

On the wall of the cave, distinct reddish-brown markings could just be made out.

“They’re paintings,” he exclaimed excitedly, his beam sweeping over the wall.

Stick insect-like rock paintings covered the wall in what, at first, appeared to be random chaos. We’d all studied Koi San paintings as part of the compulsory syllabus at school, and there could be no mistaking the distinct spidery scrawl of these drawings.

“There’s a story here,” murmured Luke, his head cocked to one side as he squinted at the wall. “All of these people are running in one direction.”

I looked at the paintings again, the haphazard depiction falling into place as I worked out which bit of them was the front, and which the back.

“They don’t have any weapons on them either and there are lots of children,” murmured Josh.

My heart dropped as I focused on the smaller more delicately drawn sketches, some of them being carried by the adults.

“The question is, what are they running from?” I whispered. Josh and Luke swept their torches in the opposite direction to the running crowd.

“Over there!” Josh’s excited voice bounced around the cave as his beam of light picked up more red-brown marks on the other side of the cave.

“That’s a really strange drawing,” Luke mused as we made our way across to it.

“Why?” I asked.

“Well, all the history we’ve learnt about these people says that they never took women and children with them into dangerous situations, they always stayed at home to keep them safe,” Luke replied.

“They had no choice.” Josh’s voice was strained as Luke and I joined him on the other side of the cave.

“What do you –”

Luke’s question was cut short by the violence depicted on this wall. Stick figures lay strewn in bloody abandon, arrows and spears protruding at odd unnatural angles. I stood agape, the agony and tenderness of the drawings causing tears to well in my eyes as each figure’s death told a separate story.

There was no repetition in this painting. Each figure had been individually painted, as if the painter or painters had wanted it recorded that these people were loved, and their stories would not be forgotten.

I wrapped my arms around my body and shuddered.

Josh swept his torch further down the wall as he led us slowly toward the beginning of the painted nightmare.

Hundreds and hundreds of darker brown, and bigger, figures brandishing weapons filled every available space. They were similar in posture, size and shape. We stood in silent awe, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the army depicted for us.

“It must be a picture of the Great Battle,” Josh whispered in the dark.

“The one you told us about when we were fishing?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Then that makes this place the scene of their mysterious disappearance?” Excitement and apprehension frothed in conflicting measures as my imagination carried me on a tidal wave of cave-painted images.

“Not necessarily.” Luke, ever practical, squashed the hope of a great discovery. It irritated me that he couldn’t just dream with Josh and me for a few moments, that he had to immediately return to logical explanations – where was the fun in that?

“It might be the scene of any battle,” Luke continued. “There’s no reference to anyone disappearing or of the people being turned into mythical creatures.”

“Oh come on, Luke,” Josh exclaimed. “Look at this battle scene and the survivors running away!”

“Exactly, the survivors ran away,” Luke argued, “they didn’t jump into pools of water and start swimming about, or disappear into thin air.”

Josh was shaking his head, taking a breath to continue arguing.

“We didn’t carry on looking farther down that side of the cave,” I cut in, trying to diffuse the tension, and pointing my torch to the side we’d started with.

“You’re right, you little Ally Cat.” Josh ruffled my hair, clearly very pleased that Luke’s argument had fallen flat.

We made our way back to the picture of the fleeing stick figures.

“So everyone is running away,” Luke said, staring at the painting again, his voice echoing eerily. “Let’s go see where they end up!” He grinned at me, his teeth glowing pale in the light from the torch. “Are you ready for what we might find?” he asked, his tone mischievous. I nodded mutely, not wanting my voice to betray my sense of dread.

We edged our way carefully along the side of the cave following the figures. After about ten paces their numbers dwindled until eventually only one person was left.

“This must have been their leader,” said Josh, shining his torch on the figure.

I stared at the painting, allowing my imagination to recreate the scene. What character this person must have had to lead so many desperate people into the cave. What tenacity and leadership! I wondered at how any person could move so many to follow them. I was picturing the strength, the determination it must have taken, and I must admit that I was picturing a man when Luke’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“It’s a girl!” he said.

“What?” exclaimed Josh, disbelieving.

Surprised by his statement I stared at the image.

“The leader is a woman,” Luke repeated.

Josh shone his torch on the picture of the exodus leader.

“Why do you think that?” he asked.

Luke looked a little sheepish as he stepped forward and pointed to the relevant bits of anatomy.

“That’s impossible,” Josh said. “Everything we’ve learnt at school and everything my grandfather has told me says that they would never allow a woman to lead.”

“Well, if it’s not a woman then it must be a transvestite, Josh, because I don’t see what those… bits would be aside from the obvious.” Luke’s exasperation was tainted with embarrassment.

“I don’t get it.” Josh was adamant

“Why don’t we carry on down the side of the cave and see if we can find anything else” I suggested, cutting Josh off before the argument I felt brewing could erupt.

A few paces later was a picture so detailed that even with the primitive painting equipment it was impossible not to recognise the beautiful valley just outside the cave.

The next picture showed the waterfall and the cave behind it. Great effort had been made in depicting the shape of the cave, almost as if the artist were drawing a map.

A couple of paces later was a completely abstract picture, so much so that after a few moments of staring at it, I turned to look at Luke and Josh only to find them with their heads tilted to the side examining the picture with the same confusion playing across their faces as I was feeling.

The dominant feature of the picture was a large funnel-shaped object in the centre. The artist had drawn dozens and dozens of comma shaped stripes above the funnel and dancing people below it.

“Any ideas?” I prodded Josh.

He snorted a laugh. “Alien abduction is about all I can make of that!”

I giggled, surprised by the sound and my ability to feel even vaguely cheerful given the fear that sharpened every sound and produced eerie shadows with murderous intent, as the torchlight bounced around the cave.

“Luke?”

“Well, it looks as though something goes into the funnel, and that is cause for celebration.” Luke’s voice had taken on a knowing tone emphasising the obvious bluff – he had no idea either.

Josh and I looked at each other and started giggling, our laughter echoing off the cave walls.

“What?” Luke asked looking grumpy. “At least my explanation is more feasible than alien abduction!”

He started stomping off in the direction of the cave opening, muttering about logical explanations and fairy tales.

It had taken us a surprisingly short amount of time to explore the cave, probably only about an hour or so. Morning still hung fragrant and slightly misty over the valley, wrapping the plants in a delicate fabric of dew drops.

“So? What do you think?” I asked the boys.

“It’s definitely a picture of the missing tribe,” Josh replied.

Luke rolled his eyes as he started packing up the campsite. Josh and I joined him as we discussed what to do next.

“Let’s explore the valley a bit more,” I suggested, the tingling sensation of the unexplored still rippling through my veins.

There was magic here; the trees, the water, everything about this place pulsed with intrigue. The story in the cave paintings was more than enough to convince me that something strange had happened here, something that modern day science couldn’t quite explain. Those people had survived a terrible battle, and they hadn’t survived without some sort of outside help.

The images of the dancing people below the funnel bore testament to that.

The boys weren’t as convinced.

“The cave stick figures left this place,” Luke argued. “Surely we should look upriver? Maybe that funnel was a passageway of some sort, you know like a…” He searched for the right description. “A cave tunnel.”

Josh and I looked at each other and then back at Luke doubtfully.

“Yeah, I watched a documentary on caves, and tunnels like that one are common,” he continued, getting excited now. “I know there are more cave paintings at the lower Injisuthi cave upriver, maybe the story continues there.”

Josh was nodding. “That’s a great idea, Luke, these people obviously liked to depict what was going on. It makes sense that they would carry on drawing wherever they ended up.”

Even though their argument made sense, I didn’t want to leave the valley. I walked over to the turquoise pool while the boys planned our route to lower Injisuthi cave, watching as the sunlight danced through the crystal-clear water creating patterns.

The dream from the night before kept pushing its way into daylight. The pool looked as inviting and beautiful as it had when I’d been skipping and playing in it in my dream the night before.

I was too afraid to swim though, the breathlessness and weight of the water as it engulfed me, those arms pulling me under, too vivid to ignore.

Instead I satisfied the desire to get into the water by trailing my fingers through it instead, half listening to the boys as I did so.

Halfway through their conversation, at the edge of my consciousness, I thought I heard the faintest of whispers, as if a few people were discussing something very far away. I couldn’t make out specific words, and the more I concentrated on it the fainter it became.

“Guys, can you hear that?” I interrupted them, wiping my hand on my shorts.

They stopped talking and listened. There was nothing.

“What was it, Alex?” Luke asked.

“I… I thought I heard talking,” I replied, beginning to doubt myself as the absence of human sound reverberated loudly around the valley. “Sorry, must have been an echo,” I amended as the boys went back to their planning.

I began trailing my fingers in the water again, playing with a dead leaf that was floating on the surface.

A few minutes later the whispered voices returned. A little more distinct this time, although I still couldn’t make out any words.

“Come here.” I called the boys over, excited and a bit freaked out. “Can you hear that?”

They moved closer to me, straining to hear something. This time the voice remained as distinct as before, but only to me. Both Luke and Josh heard nothing.

“We’d better get going,” Josh said, throwing a concerned look in my direction.

“Yeah, it’s a couple of hours’ hike to the next cave,” Luke agreed.

I didn’t miss the “she’s losing it” look that passed between them. As much as I wanted to stay and investigate the whispered conversation I was convinced I’d heard, I wasn’t about to do it alone.

We began the climb up the steep sides of the valley soon afterwards, leaving behind the ancient leafy coolness and walking into the baking morning sun.

Frustration and disappointment mingled with relief as two sides of an equal argument wrestled in my mind. It wasn’t just that what we’d found alluded to the continuation of that ancient tribe; I felt as though there was something specific that I was meant to find in that valley, and I’d skirted around it, maybe even touched it very briefly, but there was no resolution. I was leaving as ignorant as I’d arrived and that frustrated me.

And then the memory of the dream would resurface and I couldn’t move fast enough to get away, because whatever had helped those poor terrified women might not have been friendly after all.

We walked for what felt like an age at a ridiculous angle, using the roots of the old trees to pull ourselves up, the effort reducing us to silence.

Quite suddenly the ground evened out onto a softly undulating plain of waving, golden-green, ripe summer grasses, interspersed with spiky aloes and unexpectedly beautiful flowers. The roar of the waterfall was crystal clear after the muffled closeness of the valley floor.

Grunting and using sign language to stop us Josh heaved air into his lungs, hands on his knees. I plopped onto the grass next to him, cheeks pink and hair wet with sweat.

“The cave we’ll spend tonight in is just over that ridge.” Luke pointed to a black scar of cliffs in the distance. As we neared the beautifully formidable heights shaded in grey and black, we discussed how best to tackle them.

The hill crouched in front of us, brooding. It wasn’t nearly as steep as the valley walls we’d climbed earlier, but it was steep enough. About three-quarters of the way up rain had washed the soil away to reveal the earth’s skeleton. Black rock, jagged and angry, framed the horizon, beyond which a bright blue sky formed a contrasting backdrop to the searing unrelenting heat of the African sun.

The boys politely suggested a longer and easier way round.

“Won’t we find more cave paintings on them?” I asked.

“We might, Alex, but they’re really tough to climb and we don’t have the right equipment.”

We carried on walking for what felt like hours, taking a seemingly endless and exhausting well defined trail that took us around the side of the cliffs and eventually along the top of the ridge.

Had I been more alert I’m sure I would have noticed how well worn the path was, but I was tired, and I wasn’t thinking and I was lagging further and further behind the boys.

The first hint of danger came with a strange coughing bark that echoed off the hills. I froze. Fear’s metallic flavour filled my mouth.

Luke and Josh both dropped their packs and started scrabbling for their guns.

A streak of grey through the grass between the boys and me confirmed my greatest fear about this trip.

We had unwittingly walked into a troop of baboons.

Baboons aren’t just another type of monkey. They are huge. They’re the size and have the nature of a pit bull but with four hands, opposable thumbs and canines to rival any leopard’s. They are aggressive and have been known to attack solitary leopards and even lions – and win. They are also smart and notoriously territorial, which, all in all, amounted to bad news for me.

I was isolated from the boys.

I was smaller than the boys.

I was the only one without a gun.

I was a female, and I had food in my backpack and they knew that, and that made me the natural target.

Luke was the first one to stand up with his gun loaded and on his shoulder. He swung around as another baboon darted past him and froze when he saw how far behind them I was and how many baboons were between us.

The look of panic that crossed his face as he assessed the situation frightened me even more.

“Alex, stay very still,” Luke called. “I can’t shoot at anything until we’re together in case they attack you.”

“OK,” I squeaked.

Josh and Luke began edging slowly toward me, each step resulting in agitated chattering and the occasional coughing shout of one of the male baboons.

The boys were about thirty paces from me when an enormous male baboon stalked up to me. His shoulder came up to my mid-thigh and the deference the other baboons showed him, cowering away from him as he passed them, marked him as the troop leader.

He sat down ten paces from me and yawned, displaying all of his yellowed teeth.

I remembered from Dad’s bush education that baboons don’t yawn because they’re tired, baboons yawn to show you their teeth.

“Luke?” I hissed, my voice rising in panic.

“Look at the ground and back away very very slowly.” His voice was tense.

I obeyed, listening to the low conversation between Luke and Josh as they tried to find a way out for me.

“Move to the right, Alex,” Luke directed.

The ground was sloping downward making balancing difficult. As I edged backwards my foot slipped, and I dipped forward suddenly. The baboon reacted to my sudden movement by leaping at me and puffing out his fur making him look even bigger than before.

“Steady, Alex.” Luke’s voice cracked with strain.

I glanced up to see where he and Josh were. They both had their guns trained on the baboon, but my position meant that if they missed him, they would hit me instead.

My stomach lurched. There was a really good chance I wouldn’t be getting out of this unscathed.

I took another step backwards, the slope of the hill making it more and more difficult to hold my footing.

The baboon barked again. A few of the smaller males sprang to his side.

I could hear Josh and Luke whispering again.

“Alex, on my count I want you to take two more slow steps backwards and then fall flat on your stomach,” Luke instructed.

I nodded as fear twisted though me.

“Step one. Step two.”

I wobbled on the sloping ground.

“On the count of three, Alex.”

I sucked in a breath and tensed my muscles to make the fall faster than his bullet.

“One; two; three.”

I threw myself down.

Three things happened at once.

A loud bang as both boys shot at the baboon.

The animal’s angry shout as they missed it.

The horrible sensation of slithering backwards and then falling and falling.