she had expected, though she still found it impossible to keep moving in the darkness.
There were no noises behind her and she suspected that the terrorists had given up the chase. She avoided open patches of ground and kept to where the vegetation was most bushy. Her mouth was dry and she needed a drink of water badly. If she could just make it back to the main road she would be all right.
The bush was getting thicker now and she felt a little more secure. Maybe the army was searching for her. If the farmer had sounded the Agric-Alert she was sure they would be. And if the security forces were active in the area she would have nothing to worry about at all.
For a while she headed north, hoping to catch a dirt track coming from one of the outlying farms that had now been deserted. Eventually she found a track leading off to the west, and followed it in the hope that it would take her back to the main road. Unfortunately it turned out to be a meandering path that only linked the many unpopulated farms. By the middle of the day the sweat was pouring off her and she was feeling giddy.
She decided to rest under a tree for a time until the heat of the day had passed. In the cool of the shade she stretched out and, utterly exhausted, dropped off to sleep. In her dreams she imagined Rayne coming down the track, seeing her, running towards her with a smile on his face. Then bullets started to fly and red marks appeared across the front of his uniform. Now he was crawling towards her, but as much as she tried she could not move towards him. He was dying and she wanted to try and help him . . .
She woke up feeling very cold and scared. It was much later in the afternoon and she realised with horror that she had been sleeping a long time. Something did not feel at all right. She must move away from this place as quickly as possible.
It was then she noticed the man staring at her, not ten metres from where she was lying - a tall, ugly man dressed in a torn jacket and dirty jeans. A back-pack lay next to him on the ground, and an AK-47 rifle rested in his hands as if he had been born carrying it. He was stooping, his big, bulging eyes staring at her. Now she noticed the four others. They were behind him, crouching down in the bush.
She realised they were making sure she wasn’t armed. The man gestured for those behind him to come forward and at the same time he rose to his feet, still keeping the barrel of his rifle trained on her. He moved closer till she could smell the stale perspiration on him. He was only a pace or two away from her now, the tip of the rifle barrel almost touching her skin.
She rose instinctively and backed towards the trunks of the trees. He came forward and hit her hard across the face with the back of his left hand, and she fell to the ground. He leant down and snatched the watch off her hand and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. Then he tried to pull the diamond ring that her grandmother had given her off her left hand. She had never taken it off; no one was ever going to take it from her.
‘ Give me the ring.’
He had hurt her hand badly and she was angry. She curled her fingers and smashed her right hand into his face. Then she raked him with the fingernails of her left hand, the ring he had tried to remove catching his skin and cutting into it. Blood ran from his face. He staggered back, dropped the rifle and put his hands to the wound.
She ran forward and tried to pick up the rifle he had dropped. He moved quickly, slamming his boot against her fingers as they gripped the rifle barrel. She screamed with pain, staggering backwards and landing flat on the ground.
She could hear the men behind laughing. Now her attacker was furious and he grabbed her blonde hair and twisted it savagely, dragging her to her feet.
‘ Give me the ring!’
She pulled the ring off her finger and flung it into the bush where they could never find it. Then she spat in his face.
She instantly regretted it. He wrenched
There were no noises behind her and she suspected that the terrorists had given up the chase. She avoided open patches of ground and kept to where the vegetation was most bushy. Her mouth was dry and she needed a drink of water badly. If she could just make it back to the main road she would be all right.
The bush was getting thicker now and she felt a little more secure. Maybe the army was searching for her. If the farmer had sounded the Agric-Alert she was sure they would be. And if the security forces were active in the area she would have nothing to worry about at all.
For a while she headed north, hoping to catch a dirt track coming from one of the outlying farms that had now been deserted. Eventually she found a track leading off to the west, and followed it in the hope that it would take her back to the main road. Unfortunately it turned out to be a meandering path that only linked the many unpopulated farms. By the middle of the day the sweat was pouring off her and she was feeling giddy.
She decided to rest under a tree for a time until the heat of the day had passed. In the cool of the shade she stretched out and, utterly exhausted, dropped off to sleep. In her dreams she imagined Rayne coming down the track, seeing her, running towards her with a smile on his face. Then bullets started to fly and red marks appeared across the front of his uniform. Now he was crawling towards her, but as much as she tried she could not move towards him. He was dying and she wanted to try and help him . . .
She woke up feeling very cold and scared. It was much later in the afternoon and she realised with horror that she had been sleeping a long time. Something did not feel at all right. She must move away from this place as quickly as possible.
It was then she noticed the man staring at her, not ten metres from where she was lying - a tall, ugly man dressed in a torn jacket and dirty jeans. A back-pack lay next to him on the ground, and an AK-47 rifle rested in his hands as if he had been born carrying it. He was stooping, his big, bulging eyes staring at her. Now she noticed the four others. They were behind him, crouching down in the bush.
She realised they were making sure she wasn’t armed. The man gestured for those behind him to come forward and at the same time he rose to his feet, still keeping the barrel of his rifle trained on her. He moved closer till she could smell the stale perspiration on him. He was only a pace or two away from her now, the tip of the rifle barrel almost touching her skin.
She rose instinctively and backed towards the trunks of the trees. He came forward and hit her hard across the face with the back of his left hand, and she fell to the ground. He leant down and snatched the watch off her hand and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. Then he tried to pull the diamond ring that her grandmother had given her off her left hand. She had never taken it off; no one was ever going to take it from her.
‘ Give me the ring.’
He had hurt her hand badly and she was angry. She curled her fingers and smashed her right hand into his face. Then she raked him with the fingernails of her left hand, the ring he had tried to remove catching his skin and cutting into it. Blood ran from his face. He staggered back, dropped the rifle and put his hands to the wound.
She ran forward and tried to pick up the rifle he had dropped. He moved quickly, slamming his boot against her fingers as they gripped the rifle barrel. She screamed with pain, staggering backwards and landing flat on the ground.
She could hear the men behind laughing. Now her attacker was furious and he grabbed her blonde hair and twisted it savagely, dragging her to her feet.
‘ Give me the ring!’
She pulled the ring off her finger and flung it into the bush where they could never find it. Then she spat in his face.
She instantly regretted it. He wrenched
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