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I turn to him. “Odin?” He slings his arm over the seat and glances my way, his sunglasses hiding the emotions I want to see. “Thanks for bringing me here.”
A muscle in his jaw tenses, then he returns his gaze toward the horizon. “Anytime.”
16
Odin
‘Gravity’ by Matt Hansen
I’ve reached my wit’s end as the afternoon draws near. We spot a pride of lions not long after our lunch break, and, of course, Harriet loses her mind. Watching her is unlike watching any human to ever exist. She’s a beacon of love for animals she can’t even touch. She oozes her sunshine infused venom all over the interior of the car and successfully latches onto me with her soft sighs and eager smiles.
Every time I look at her, I want to stick a needle in my eye. Mostly because I know I’m doing it too much. She’s just so… bright. But the way she said my name. Unflinching, comfortable, friendly.
I can’t stand it.
“Are they dogs?” Ford calls to Lance as he drives the car steadily alongside the river. He points to the edge of the water where a group of dogs, distinctly different from normal suburban pets due to theirkaleidoscope of brown, orange, white and black coloring and their large, rounded ears.
Lance nods. “They are African wild dogs. Very dangerous.”
Harriet leans into my arm and says, “They can take down large prey by chasing them for hours until they collapse from exhaustion.”
“Yes,” Lance adds. “They eat them alive, too. Very nasty.” Ford is giddy at the thought. “Actually, the Luangwa Valley has the largest population of wild dogs—”
A splash and a screech of movement interrupts Lance. An enormous crocodile launches out of the water and latches onto a dog that has stepped too deep into the murky depths. I grab Harriet by the waist and pull her away from the edge of the car. She makes a distinguished ‘oomph’ when she falls into the seat.
“You don’t have to do that,” she chastises. “It’s perfectly safe.”
Safe, my ass.
It’s a fucking deathtrap at every turn out here.
Even with danger a few yards away, she still sits up eagerly, her binoculars ready. My system can’t take much more stress. I need this to be over immediately. My shoulders are stiff, and my muscles ache because I haven’t been able to relax. Not once.
“Fuck!” Ford exclaims as the dog’s scatter and the crocodile’s chosen prey wriggles, fighting between the jaws of the strongest bite force in the world. The drama and brutal unpredictability of the African wilderness are on full display. Startlingly gory and difficult to turn away from. Lance gets us a bit closer as the crocodile begins to drag the yelping dog, spinning into a death roll at the last second before submerging. The dogs on the bank pace and bark at the water, but none are brave enough to get near anymore. None of them would risk their own necks to save a friend who’s already dead.
Once the water is calm, all traces of violence gone, I give Lance a discrete signal, asking him to wrap it up. He nods and steers the car away from the river and back toward the camp. The clouds that hover overhead are fat and gray. It has a malevolence about it. Like the god of thunder and lightning overlooks these parts because it’s the most like his nature. Bold and rough and barbaric.
Harriet’s smooth voice filters into my ear over the rumble of the car engine.“If that were me, would you dive in and rescue me?”
I scoff. “I’d have to, wouldn’t I?”
“Because I’m a human being or because I’m your property?”
“Does it matter? I’d be going in, either way.” She’s not too happy with my answer. I’m not sure what else I was supposed to say.
By the time we make it back, the sunset has reached its end, the orange and pink strokes of light disappearing beyond the horizon.
Inside the cabin, we dump our things. Harriet heads straight for the tray of food left for us to graze before dinner arrives. She takes some slices of cheese and fruit over to the bed where she reclines against the pillows with her legs straight out.
“I’m taking a shower,” I inform her.
“Okay.”
“Don’t come in,” I warn in the same manner as she did the night we arrived.
She chuckles softly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
The water from the showerhead is like ice as it runs down my skin. My gaze lingers on the feminine hair products, body moisturizers, even the razor lying on the shelf to my right. There’s a bruise deep inside me that pulses, reminding me it’s still there, ever present. I’m shown a memory of familiar things used by another woman. Different scents, differentbrands, but the bottles are all the same. They all get packed up when the person who uses them isn’t here anymore.
