Africa Calls.

Chapter 22.
                                                                     

'One Eye' the lion moved slowly, hunched down he crawled along the gully on his belly. He was on the other side of the lorry, so nobody was aware of him coming up.
"Come on, Patel, throw the old tyre into the back, we need to get on" called out Van Piet climbing back up into the lorry. He started the engine and looked into his rear view mirror. Something had caught his attention, a blur of something. a bird he thought to himself.
The scream that came curdled his blood. He moved the mirror and looked. He could not see anything, but the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up.Then there in the wing mirror he saw the lion. He grabbed his gun and quietly crept  out of the vehicle on the other side. Gun at the ready he called out  a warning to Patel.
The lion turned and lunged forward, knocking him over, the gun went flying. He scrambled to his feet, looking for the gun, but could not see it for the long grass, and then, in that instant saw the lion standing over Patel who lay moaning and jerking on the ground. Blood dripped from it's mouth, and then it went for Patels throat. Patel writhed for a few seconds and then all was still. The lion stood over it's kill, barring it's teeth at Van Piet. He stumbled up into the van and vomited, sides heaving, gasping for breath in between the vomiting. There was nothing he could do for his old friend, the lion was seeing to that. Without the gun he had no control over the situation. Better to get out of here, and the image that was flashing over and over in his mind of the kill.
The last sound he heard as he drove off was the crunching of bone. Then the roar.
                                                       

This was the only time he had, had to kill and witness man being killed. His other 'jobs' had been 'in and outs', nobody getting killed like this.
'Bloody hell, this was one bloody nightmare, nothing going right ' he cursed as he shook, the sweat dripping of him, more in shock than the heat.
He felt the bile rising in his throat again. He fumbled in his top packet for a fag, lighting it and inhaling deeply, but the taste of  death was still there. He gunned the engine and drove off towards the airstrip.
Once he handed over his cargo and was paid, he would make sure Patel's family were well looked after. It would be an accident, he would make up some story for the missing body, they would never know what really happened. He would  'hang up his gun, as the saying went and maybe move  far away. Start a new life somewhere.
He bounced along struggling to miss the ruts and roots hidden under the drying mud in the road.
The airstrip came into view, it was rough ground with bushes hacked away at both sides, but served it's purpose when needed.
He pulled up under a shady  tree, grabbed a bottle of water and drank deeply, some of the taste of the day was washed away. 'God, he needed a whiskey'
In the distance he heard the drone of a small plane.

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A bit further on this week, and I will soon have to start the background. This I will do in acrylics as it is a snowy scene and I want to try and get some texture and depth into the snow. Fingers crossed this will work out. Practise run coming up first, but  not on this picture !

'To all our food lovers, new recipes have been added.'
Have a good week wherever you are.