Fever by V. K. Powell

cramped space. Bouts of nausea that sent her stumbling from the hut and voices that grew louder and more heated through the night interrupted her attempts to sleep.

    *
    When Zak thought Sara was asleep, she pulled the folded piece of paper Ben had given her from her pocket and handed it to Roger Kamau. They sat alone by the fire so she felt comfortable questioning him. “Have you seen this?”
    Roger examined the paper in the dim light. “It’s a copy of Sara’s driver’s license, passport, and social security card.” His gaze swept around the campsite and back to the fire. He was clearly avoiding eye contact.
    “I didn’t ask what it was. That’s obvious. Have you seen it before?” Roger shifted uncomfortably, a stall tactic to compose a plausible lie. These documents had been out of Sara’s possession only once during this trip. Apparently the staff at the Mombasa Serena Hotel wasn’t as loyal as Sara thought. “You have. Where?”
    He dug into his coat pocket and produced an identical piece of paper. “It was given to me when I was assigned this job.”
    “Why?”
    “I’m not sure.” Roger’s face paled. The man didn’t lie well or think very quickly.
    “You live in Nairobi?”
    “Yes,” he answered tentatively.
    “Who gave you this information?”
    “My boss. He works for the National Parks Service. He got a call from Ms. Ambrosini’s attorney looking for a replacement guide.”
    “And?” Zak was growing impatient with the cat-and-mouse game.
    “I guess he wanted to be sure I reported to the right person.”
    Zak had her hands around the man’s throat in an instant. He was bug-eyed and red-faced, sputtering for breath. “I’ll give you one more chance to answer my questions, and then I’ll feed you to whatever wild beast is hunting tonight. Are we clear?” She waited for a nod and released him.
    Roger took several deep breaths as his facial coloring returned. “Some people in government want this project to fail. This paper has been heavily distributed, warning against assisting in this endeavor.”
    “What does the government have against a new school that won’t cost them anything?”
    “They’re not against the school or the Ambrosini Foundation.”
    That left only one possibility and Zak balled her fists against her building anger. “Then what? Say it.”
    “The opposition is twofold. One is a personal issue with you. Apparently you have a very powerful enemy in the Kenyan government.”
    “Then you’re in luck, Mr. Kamau, because your job is to replace me. And your first and only loyalty is to Sara Ambrosini. What’s the second issue?”
    “I’m not sure of the details, but I do know the influential, wealthy opponents are land-hungry.”
    “Your job is to take care of Ms. Ambrosini. If I hear that you’ve let her down in any way, I’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth. Do you understand?”
    The prominent Adam’s apple on Kamau’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Yes.”
    “Then we understand each other. Good night.” Zak walked toward Ben, who stood at the camp entrance.
    He passed his spear and club to her, relinquishing the watch, and headed to his hut. “Be well, Ebony.”
    This was the first time since her arrival that she’d been alone, and she relished the night. As she patrolled the camp’s perimeter, she rolled the hand-hewn spear shaft between her palms and remembered whittling and fashioning her own weapon many years ago. The scents of scorched earth combined with the evidence of human habitation and the layer of wood smoke that clung to the air. The sky was top-heavy with stars, their brilliance undiminished by the artificial lights of civilization. In the distance a hyena’s musical whoop broke the silence with its modulated up-and-down pitch. Part of the thrill of Africa was the primal sounds of animals that survived by their instincts. Adrenaline surged through Zak’s body as she acknowledged the challenge and potential this country always