Mike Streak, a South African, studied psychology and

history, and his The Afrikaner as viewed by the

English, 17951854 was published in 1974, and
Victria!s ste"children, in 1998. is first no!el The
#irebrand Effect appeared in 198". #r Streak has
worked as an archi!ist and consular official in $ew
%ork &ity. A restaurateur and first'class baker, today he
runs a s(all bakery in $apier, a )estern &ape !illage,
where he li!es with *arbara +owley, his girlfriend of
(any years.
,or *arbara
Mi ke St r eak
A S C E N T O F T H E
S O L I T A R Y S O U L
&opyright - Mike Streak
.he right of Mike Streak to be identified as author of this work
has been asserted by hi( in accordance with section 77 and 78 of
the &opyright, #esigns and /atents Act 1988.
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reproduced, stored in a retrie!al syste(, or trans(itted in any
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publication (ay be liable to cri(inal prosecution and ci!il clai(s
for da(ages.
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1
1t was a strangeness new to hi(, the weirdest thing he had
known. A sharp i(pact, the force of a sledgeha((er, a
bursting within his ears, then silence beyond understanding.
*ut his spirit stirred, curiosity filled his shredded (ind and he
swore a (yriad crystal pieces fell about his head in (acabre
celebration. ,ro( nowhere, he was swept up as if by an unseen
wa!e upon a great ocean, and he knew his ti(e had co(e. e
blinked< turning first to the left, then to the right, away fro(
the African sun, which boiled the brains of (en and (ade
the( belie!e foolish things.
e sat where he was for a while, his thoughts adrift. e
felt for his eye. =ily, coated with a fil(. .his was to be
e>pected, surely. *ut he (ust know. e grasped for so(ething,
anything, he could cling to, ga0ing beyond the deep blue sky,
seeking an answer to what was happening to hi(. :!erything
was ?ust as it had been. .he boulders, one upon another, the
?agged rock face with its (eagre bushes hanging on
desperately for life. ,ar below, the house was where it always
had been, and the two outbuildings, e!en the shed where until
this (orning he had been forced to sleep. e lifted his eyes,
his spirit caressing the hori0on, and ga0ed upon the great
@aroo plain, which stretched far off into the distance until
swallowed by dark blue (ountains.
Al(ost i(perceptibly feeling was lea!ing his li(bs,
war(th creeping slowly fro( his feet and fingertips. is
thoughts bounced around his head. e wanted to understand.
is head spun. A,or ;odBs sake, where a( 1CB .hen cal(ness
fell o!er hi(, and he sensed ti(es past and ti(es to co(e. e
looked beyond, feeling no disco(fort, no fear. 1t occurred to
hi(D )as he deadC e shook his head and laughed
disbelie!ingly. ;hosts and #e(onsC +ubbishE
*ut where had it startedC
/eople said e!erything (o!ed in circles. /erhaps, but it
(ust ha!e begun so(ewhere. .he 9uestion was where.
.ake that Sunday (orning. 1t was hard to belie!e it was
?ust four weeks ago that he had been (inding his own business
settling into his new house in &ape .own, a se(i with a !iew
fro( the balcony across the rooftops to the harbour, and o!er
his shoulder .able Mountain in all its glory. .he welco(e of
the (orning had been perfect in e!ery way, not a breath of air
and that special 9uiet, which co(es o!er &ape .own early on a
Sunday. e was pleased to ha!e left the big house where he
had grown up and which he had inherited fro( his aunt. e
had adored the old girl with her eccentric ways and was sorry
heBd ne!er seen her on stage in her heyday, when her na(e had
been in the lights at the )est :nd. $ow he li!ed alone, and art
was his life. .he property had beco(e too big for hi( after his
last di!orce, so heBd looked for so(ething (ore (anageable,
so(ething (ore suitable as a studio, and had settled for this
old )oodstock property.
e was lost in thought recalling the (onths heBd spent
lo!ingly restoring his new ho(e when there was a sharp
knocking, and the spell was broken.
1n the doorway stood a large (an in a shiny grey suit,
buttons done up, a red handkerchief in his lapel pocket and a
(atching tie. is grey hair was cropped, short back and sides
and his (oustache was (eticulously tri((ed. .he stranger
was about his height but a lot hea!ier. A shade o!er si>ty, he
reckoned.
AFonathan StarrCB
e nodded.
A%ou (ust forgi!e (y intrusion.B .he !oice was not
accusto(ed to apologies.
e nodded again, guardedly this ti(e.
A.ell (e, your father was 2eonard Starr, correctC )ho
went (issing G oh, about thirty'fi!e years agoCB e could feel
the big (an studying his e>pressionless face and wary eyes,
searching for a reaction. A=f course you were !ery young at the
ti(e and would re(e(ber !ery little. 1t was a horrific crash G
off that (ountain pass, with the ri!er in flood. .hank goodness
you sur!i!ed with barely a scratch. Miraculous.
AActually, itBs re(arkable that either of you li!ed to see
another day, although we all thought your father was dead.B
Starr took a step back, the peace of his Sunday (orning
shattered by frag(ents of a past he had tried to put behind hi(.
*ut the big (an was not letting up.
AAnd your (other disappeared about that ti(e too. 1n fact,
the sa(e night.B e raised an eyebrow. A+e(arkable.B
StarrBs hackles were rising. A%ou appear to know a lot
about (e,B he said sarcastically. AAll the grisly bits.B
A$ot as (uch as 1Bd like to,B replied the big (an. .hen his
face broke into a broad, half'e(barrassed s(ile. A,orgi!e (e,B
he said. e reached into his ?acket and produced a wallet,
flipping it open. AMy na(e is /ieter endriks.B
Starr was te(pted to shut the door on the stranger but
curiosity got the better of hi(. And he saw in the wise old eyes
a sadness, which told hi( this person had felt hurt and pain in
his life. .he tension eased. e glanced at the 1#. A&ri(inal
1ntelligence,B he said, A.he &hief, no less. 1B( (ost i(pressed.
)hat ha!e 1 done to deser!e GB
A$o, no,B the big police(an laughed, feeling awkward.
AMy !isit is unofficial, al(ost personal, you (ight say.B
e shuffled his feet. A1 donBt need to tell you your
e>hibition has been in all the papers. 1 read that you intended
e>ploring the country on a ?ourney of self'disco!ery, so 1
thought 1Bd look in to see how you were getting along. 1B!e
always wondered what beca(e of you.B
.hen heBd dropped the bo(bshell. A.ell (e, Starr,B he said,
Aare you planning a !isit to the area soonCB
.he 9uestion caught hi( off'guard. ow had the
police(an known he was planning to lea!e that !ery day,
tracing a path through the @aroo and $orthern &ape, which
(ight finally throw so(e light on his parentsB disappearanceC
A%es,B he replied cautiously. Aow did you knowC And why
do you say your !isit is personalCB
*ut the big (an was gi!ing nothing away. A2etBs ?ust say
itBs a story that began a long ti(e ago. %ou see, 1 was stationed
in )orcester at the ti(e of your parentsB G u(, disappearance.
1t was one of the first cases 1 re(e(ber as a young cop. 1 know
the whole area G &al!inia, /rieska, @enhardt, all those
godforsaken places which ought not to e>ist.B
A)hy do you say thatCB Starr had asked, surprised.
A1tBs the life. 1tBs too hard. .he baking sun, with nothing
around for (iles.B endriks pulled a face. A1t does bad things to
people, e!en the best of the(.B
.hose words had stayed with hi(. A hard country for sure,
he knew that. %ears ago, when he was o!erseas, heBd run into a
group of young (en fro( those parts. =ne look had told Starr
they were (ore co(fortable in the great outdoors under the
African sun. .hey were as hard as nails. eBd got chatting, and
one of the( had ad(itted they were all ready to go ho(e.
.hey belonged to the land, heBd said. .hey trusted no one.
.hey were out of place in :urope. .hey were uni9ue. ow, he
couldnBt e>plain, but he was ada(ant.
A separate breed, Starr wondered. A law unto the(sel!esC
Maybe, but heBd not been there since he was a child and didnBt
really know one way or the other. =r did heC /erhaps it was his
subconscious, plain and si(ple, always digging up so(e
e>cuse why he shouldnBt go up there again. SuppressionC =r
denialC )hate!er the case, if it was good enough for ,reud, it
was good enough for hi( G far better than spilling his
psychological guts all o!er the pa!e(ent for e!eryone to see.
*ut bells rang in his head and he knew he was lying. .he
years had not been all that (ar!ellous. e laughed bitterly.
#a(ned rightE e was not whole, he was not okay, he was not
free of doubt or fear, or e!en guilt about the past G unless it
was nor(al that a four'year'old should feel guilt. *ut what was
he responsible forC e sighed, tired of all the introspection.
.his endriks pu00led hi(. A real police general, top
brass, knocking on his door. e ought to ha!e saluted, he
thought dryly, half a s(ile on his face. Such sad, wise eyes.
)hat did the (an ha!e in (indC )hat interest could he
possibly ha!e in his parents after so (any yearsC
Starr looked skywards, seeking inspiration. A thought
ca(e to hi(. /erhaps he should not be 9uite so keen to !isit
the past. And if his subconscious steered hi( away fro( it,
perhaps he ought to be heeding the warning.
2ea!ing the congestion of &ape .own behind was a
pleasure. eBd had a rather late lunch of sandwiches and
coffee, then piled a few things into his blue *M) and got
(o!ing. .he plan was to (ake for &al!inia, a s(all @aroo
town to the north, by way of a circular route that would let hi(
take in so(e of the countryside, while satisfying a curiosity to
see where his life had begun. 1t was nearly se!en hundred
kilo(etres, a full dayBs tra!elling, but he was allowing hi(self
three days. )ith luck, he (ight get answers to the 9uestions,
which had been with hi( for as long as he could re(e(ber.
As the (ilestones ticked by, his thoughts returned to /ieter
endriks. A personal !isitC $onsenseE So(ething nagged at
the edges of his (ind< then it ca(e to hi(. endriksB parting
words. .he general had handed Starr a card with his telephone
nu(ber on it and saidD A;i!e (e a call if 1 can help,B and then
heBd addedD A.ake care.B 1nnocent enough, or was it a warningC
endriks was (ore than ?ust AinterestedB in his wellbeing. e
was concerned about this trip. )as he opening a can of
wor(sC e forced a grin. )hat the hell, it was too late. e was
on his way.
1t was well into the afternoon when he left /aarl behind
and started to cli(b towards the uguenot .unnel, which
would take hi( through the underbelly of the e> +i!er
Mountains to the )orcester !alley beyond. e knew it well
and looked forward to this part of the ?ourney. Since he had
been a child, heBd always (ar!elled at rocks and (ountains
and was fascinated by those indi!iduals who pitted the(sel!es
against the(. 1t had taken fifteen years to co(plete the tunnel
and e!en its final approach was a work of wonder. .he road
left the solid earth and see(ed to float on air, stretching high
abo!e the e(pty foothills, thin as a needle, to reach for the
entrance, which appeared as a black hole in the (ountain face.
1t ne!er failed to take his breath away. 1t was not long as
tunnels went, ?ust four kilo(etres, but the sensation of
(o!e(ent within a confined space, together with the noise of
the road, re(inded hi( of so(ething he could not 9uite put his
finger on. And when his car burst fro( the tunnel into the
sunlight on the )orcester side, he swore it felt like being
catapulted into space.
1t was the last of the su((er winds, and dust had risen in
clouds, (ingling with the purples and (au!es and greys of the
(ountains of granite, which ringed the !alley. e nibbled his
botto( lip. )orcester was one of the pieces in the pu00le. 1t
was hardly a (e(ory, (ore an awareness that so(ething had
happened there, and it e!oked deep (isgi!ings. eBd gi!e the
town a (iss for now. ,ar better to carry on to ,raserburg for
the night.
Hineyards passed, far(lands, ho(esteads, then the
outskirts of towns with row upon row of oli!e trees.
1t had been odd hearing endriks speaking of those ti(es
as if it had all happened yesterday. Al(ost thirty'fi!e yearsE e
re(e(bered little. =ne day he had parents, the ne>t day they
were gone. A four'year'old, whisked off to li!e with his aunt,
growing up ha!ing to co(e to ter(s with being orphaned.
eBd adored his aunt. &olourful, to be sure, and a spinster
of the old school, sheBd ha!e done anything for hi(. SheBd
been wealthy in her own right and the courts had released
funds fro( his (otherBs estate years before it was finally
wound up. eBd wanted for nothing.
*ut his aunt would ne!er speak of the past other than to
say there had been a terrible car accident. er philosophy had
been to treat the entire (atter as taboo in the hope it would go
away.
SheBd done a good ?ob with hi(. eBd been taught the
Hictorian !irtue of labour, shunning idleness and unnecessary
e>tra!agance. ;ood schools, good friends and good ti(es had
followed. Mishaps to be sure, but &ape .own had li!ed up to
its reputation. )hat the hellE 2ife wasnBt bad, e!en if /ieter
endriks was intent upon scratching a(ong the ruins of the
past. *ut thirty'fi!e years later G for hea!enBs sakeE
eBd learned in high school about the (ountain road
accident and had searched the city library archi!es for
infor(ation. $ewspaper reports said he had been in the front
seat when his father crashed through the barrier at night, the
car so(ersaulting down the (ountainside into the flooded
ri!er below. +escue units had searched the ri!erbanks for
sur!i!ors all night without success. .he following (orning
they had found hi(, barely conscious and in shock, buried in
the undergrowth on a ledge a few (etres abo!e the raging
ri!er. .he thick undergrowth had cushioned his fall and
probably sa!ed his life, but it had also hidden hi( fro(
rescuers. .he search for his father had continued for days but
his body had ne!er been found.
And his (otherC e could find little in the papers other
than that she had (ysteriously disappeared on the night of the
accident. =ne Sunday newspaper article had hinted foul play
was suspected but nothing was e!er pro!ed. %ears later she
was declared dead by the courts G her body was ne!er found.
.he (onotony of the road sang out its doleful tune. =ne
hundred, two hundred kilo(etres flew by. #e #oorns, .ouws
+i!ier. .he rhyth( of the car soothed hi( and at ti(es he felt
he was able to detach his (ind as he pleased, putting distance
between hi(self and the here'and'now. e hu((ed gently.
.here was no point pretending nothing had happened. /erhaps,
had the big police(an not burst into his life, and had G e
stopped in (id'sentence, leaning back !iolently, grabbing for
the letter on the back seat but not troubling hi(self to read it.
A#ear Fonathan,B he recited fro( (e(ory. A1 can
understand how surprised GB
1t had arri!ed ?ust a week or so ago. e glanced at the
handwriting on the en!elope then put it down on the front seat,
breathing out hea!ily. ere was so(eone clai(ing to be his
sister. 1t should ha!e been a wonderful surprise. *ut the trouble
was, if they shared the sa(e father, how, for &hristBs sake,
could she be thirty years oldC She would ha!e had to ha!e
been born fi!e years after his father had died. eBd not told the
general about the letter. A1 wonder what heBd ha!e said to thatCB
he (uttered aloud.
e had gone full circle now, back to the point he was
(aking to hi(self earlier. ad it not been for endriks, and
had it not been for his supposed sister, bursting into his life I
e!en better, had she ne!er been born I he (ight well ha!e been
left in peace and none of this would ha!e happened. )ho
knows, he (ight ha!e en?oyed a !isit to the country. A:rica
2arsen,B he said aloud punctuating his pronunciation. A$ice
na(e, at least,B he s(iled, trying to sweeten the pill. So his
father had sur!i!ed. eBd changed his na(e, calling hi(self
Mickey 2arsen. And heBd ne!er (ade contact with hi(, not
once in thirty'fi!e years.
A1tBs too (uch for the brain,B he said with resignation. eBd
been o!er it a hundred ti(es already. And it hurt, ?ust as (uch,
e!ery ti(e.
1t (ight ha!e been the distance heBd co!ered that had
(ade hi( feel weary, but upon lea!ing 2aingsburg his (ood
changed. ,ro( this point, he decided, his ?ourney started in
earnest, and his spirits lifted. &ape .own was (ore than two
hundred and fifty kilo(etres behind now, e!idence of hu(an
habitation was thinning out drastically, and ;od knows, the
sky see(ed bluer and higher, the hori0on ten ti(es further
away than it ought to be G it was (anna for the soulE
*ut this thing called life was strange. &irclesC eBd prefer
a decent straight line. At least, a person could see what was
co(ing. .here (ust be a (agic key so(ewhere, surely, a list
of the tricks fate liked to play, Starr reflected pensi!ely. .here
was no doubt that irony played a part in the affairs of (ortals.
#usk was approaching. e was drawn to the sa(eness of
the road and its pulsating white line. 1t was (es(erising. e
turned his head towards the (ountain of rock in the distance,
which (ade up the Swartberge. .his was nature. *ut what
about the roadE 1ts tar(ac ran hundreds, no thousands of
kilo(etres through the heart and soul of the country and up
through the continent. A1snBt it ironical,B he thought, Athat you
need ci!il engineering to help you escape to the re(otest
countryside.B e s(iled to hi(self. A.hatBs life, 1 guess I ne!er
9uite what you e>pect.B
e looked at the Swartberge again, al(ost in darkness,
then to the rounded little bushes scattered alongside the road
silhouetted by the lights of the car. A/retty sparse,B he thought.
#eserts were not his first choice, so why was he drawn to the
@arooC =kay, it wasnBt a desert in the strictest sense, but it was
dry enough that should so(e poor fool belie!e heBd landed in
the Sahara he could be forgi!en for that. So why did so(e
people hanker for the arid regions of the world, actually seek
the( outC :scaping the crowds was one good reason< thinking
life would be better in the wilderness was another. =r (aybe
so(e people were ?ust not sophisticated enough for city life, he
wondered, though not con!inced. e raised an eyebrow.
Maybe so(e wayward #$A couplingE e had looked forward
to the ?ourney, not ?ust because he was searching for answers.
)as it the airC =r perhaps the absence of lush (eadows and
pretty strea(s gurgling indulgentlyC $ot e!eryone cared for
the dry, open spaces, but it brought hi( closer to the ele(ents
of life, the building blocks, and the stuff of his own e>istence.
1t re(o!ed the chaff, he resol!ed. .hatBs what a desert did. 1t
was that si(ple.
e looked into the distance, reli!ing the past few days.
/ieter endriks, :rica, Mickey 2arsen. A !ague i(pression of
his parents crossed his (ind. e looked about again,
wondering whether ti(e would outrun hi(. e felt a shi!er.
1norganic (atterC .hat would put hi( back in the cos(os.
.he lights of 2eeu ;a(ka told hi( heBd not far to go. e
opened his window, slowing to take the ,raserburg road. .he
heat of the day was lifting and the coolness of the night
preparing to creep in. 1t had been a long day, (ore hours than
he cared to think about, since /ieter endriks had disturbed
hi( so rudely. e stopped the car to stretch his legs and take in
the splendour of the southern hea!ens. A)ow,B he said in a
subdued tone. .he (oon was bloated in its brilliance. e felt
he could reach out and touch it. And on a night like tonight
heBd gi!e odds he could cross the !eld guided by the light of
the (oon and stars alone.
2ater, behind the wheel again, he could (ake out the fine
line of the escarp(ent as it rose against the night sky.
So(ewhere ahead though, possibly ten kilo(etres away, a
disturbing bright glow was lighting the sky. 1t was too bright to
be a far(stead, yet too s(all and intense to be the lights of a
town. .he (inutes shrank to (o(ents. .raffic signs warned of
dangerous bends as he entered a deep !alley, and the glow
beca(e (ore intense. So(ething !ery serious (ust ha!e
happened at the botto( of the pass. e rounded a bend.
,lashing lights, !ehicles e!erywhere. e ground to an
in!oluntary stop.
1f pressed, Fonathan Starr would ha!e been 9uick to ad(it
he had lost control that night, and he regretted it. *ut heBd also
ha!e said it was ine!itable, his life being what it was. is
reaction to what unfolded before his eyes was slow in its build'
up but swift in e>acting !engeance upon hi( when it ca(e. A
pile'up. .he road was closed, a police !ehicle pre!enting
traffic approaching closer. =!er to the left, in the !eld, the
artificial lighting was so brilliant it (ade hi( turn his head
away. e shuddered as he took in blue and red lights flashing
o!er the scene of de!astation. is (ind flashed back to his
childhood. e knew he was no stranger to this. A1 (ust face it,B
he said, gritting his teeth. e cli(bed out of the car, feeling the
coolness of the night air and gaining so(e consolation fro(
the fact that the police were there in force. :(ergency !ehicles
e!erywhere G a(bulances, he counted fi!e. /ale white !ans,
too, without windows, and with the lettering A;o!ern(ent
/athologistB proclai(ing the reason for their gri( presence.
Starr steadied hi(self against his car. e had not seen anything
re(otely like this before.
e thought of his own life. A;ood ;od,B he said under his
breath. /ictures flashed past his (indBs eye. A)as this how it
wasCB e stood clinging to the car, (es(erised, studying e!ery
detail of the destruction and hungry for (ore. e tried to
!isualise his father dri!ing that fateful day. eBd always known
he had adored hi(. e tried to i(agine what his father would
ha!e looked like today. Mickey 2arsenE e was dead now, if
he was to belie!e his sister. SisterE is (ind spun.
1n front of hi( were other parked cars. .o the right, a s(all
red car had careered off the road into a ditch, perhaps a (etre
deep, and lay on its side. .he passenger door was open but
otherwise, well, it didnBt look too bad. A large, hea!y'duty
trailer was parked on the opposite side of the road, as far off
the shoulder as it could get. 1t appeared to be untouched but a
big chunk of it stuck out into the road. About twenty or thirty
(etres away the heart of the scene of carnage called out to
hi(, re!ealing itself fully under the brilliance of the hard white
light. StarrBs sto(ach turned. An o!erturned cattle truck I
fifteen to twenty tons, he would guess, but e(pty of li!estock
at the ti(e, lay spreadeagled on its back. .he red car had
probably swer!ed to a!oid the trailer ?utting into the road and
this (onster truck had burst forth fro( nowhere in the failing
light, trying to negotiate the bend in the road. $ausea welled
up fro( his belly as he picked out two rows of bodies co!ered
head to foot in lifeless grey blankets. e felt he was going to
be sick.
A.here (ust be a do0en of the(.B
=ddly enough, it was only then that he took notice of the
s(all ar(y of e(ergency personnel. So(e were with the dead,
looking for identification, it see(ed. =thers (illed around the
para(edics as they worked fe!erishly on the in?ured, whose
nu(ber he could not (ake out. A=!er hereEB ca(e a shout fro(
a little way off in the chilly night air. AereBs another one.B .he
!oice was co(ing fro( a different direction. e shook his
head in horror. .hey (ust ha!e been far( workers on the back
of the truck. .hese poor souls had been catapulted G thirty
(etresC ,ifty (etresC A.oo close to ho(e,B he shuddered,
snatches of that terrible night on the (ountain pass co(ing
back to hi( G the dreadful racket as the car slid off the road
onto gra!el, the e>cruciating din in his ears, the ?olt as the car
s(ashed into the rocks, throwing hi( clear, falling, falling, the
sound of the ri!er as he lay in the dense undergrowth that had
cushioned his plunge only (etres abo!e the raging torrent.
.hen nothing. 1t was ten hours before they had found hi(.
e turned away with his sto(ach in knots, his knees weak.
:(otions locked away for thirty'fi!e years let the(sel!es
loose, sending an icy panic through e!ery fibre in his body. e
saw i(ages of his father turning wildly to grab hold of hi( as
the car door flew open. is father was falling towards hi( G
had he been thrown out tooC e willed the !ision not to go but
it wa!ered, then faded until it was wiped fro( his (ind
altogether. Steadying hi(self as best he could against the side
of the car for a (o(ent, he shook his head sharply G ad he
been drea(ingC A*ut da((it. 1 did see hi(EB Sweat ran fro(
his forehead and trickled down his nose. e wiped his face,
then looked about bewildered, trying to take stock of where he
was. *ut his knees ga!e way under his weight and he
collapsed. +obbed of support, Fonathan Starr fell face first onto
the hard @aroo earth.
1t took hi( a while to gather hi(self. e cla(bered to his
feet unsteadily, slapping dust fro( his clothing and wiping his
face with a handkerchief, looking about and silently cursing.
ad he faintedC ad anyone seen hi(C 1t was fairly dark
around the parked cars. A.hank ;od for that,B he (uttered,
feeling like a co(plete idiot. e stepped away fro( his car
still feeling shaken and walked slowly down the road. /eople
were sitting patiently in their !ehicles and he s(iled a weak
greeting here and there. eBd inspect the red car, he told
hi(self. ,ar better that than standing alone with his thoughts.
A$s %y kayCB ca(e a !oice.
A)hat did you sayCB e turned as a figure approached.
A1 asked if you were alright. ow did you (anage to fall
on your headCB
Starr grinned at the young (anBs audacity. e held out his
hand. AFonathan Starr.B
A*oetie .al?aard.B
e studied the broad features of so(eone whoBd spent his
life in the open I that (uch his tanned face confir(ed. @haki
shorts, short'slee!ed shirt, short ankle boots. Starr returned the
grip, feeling the raw strength in the young (anBs hand.
A:asy to (ake yourself look stupid, ehCB
Starr laughed, deciding that the Afrikaans accent of his
new ac9uaintance only added to the co(ical side of what had
happened. e took an instant liking to the gentle giant. *ig and
tall and strong. Must be a sheep far(er if heBs fro( these parts,
or (aybe ostriches.
AA bad business,B Starr put in, pointing o!er his shoulder.
A=n their way back fro( a church picnic. ,ull of far(
workers. And this happens.B *oetie .al?aard shook his head
wistfully. A;od (o!es in (ysterious ways. &aar ek sal dit
nit verstaan nie,! he added in his ho(e tongue. A1Bll ne!er
understand it.B
A.ell (e about it,B Starr replied dryly. A#o you far( around
hereCB
A'a,B he replied, cautioning Starr not to (o!e as three
a(bulances passed slowly by. AMy far(Bs at the top of the
pass. )hat about youCB
A.ra!elling. 1Bll sleep in ,raserburg tonight, if 1 e!er get
there.B
Again *oetie .al?aard e>tended an ar( to hold Starr back
fro( (o!ing into the road as a go!ern(ent pathology !an
approached, stopping alongside the(. A unifor(ed young (an
?u(ped fro( the !ehicle and strode off to the red car, looking
inside apparently to retrie!e so(ething.
Starr shuddered. is head was so light it could float away,
and he thought he (ight collapse again. )hat was it that was
unner!ing hi(C e studied the pathology !ehicle, feeling
naked and intensely e>posed. )as it the !anC =r was it ?ust
that death was e!erywhereC *ut why should it affect hi( so
badlyC )as death contagiousC )as this what he was scared ofC
e laughed at hi(self G ridiculousE 1t was the pathology !an,
he felt sure. And it had unhinged hi(. e couldnBt say why. e
felt he was going 9uietly insane.
*oetie was watching hi(.
e pulled hi(self together. A)here do they take the
bodiesCB he asked.
A*eaufort )est.B *oetie .al?aard paused. AAre you alright,
FonathanC %ou look as if youB!e seen a ghost.B
e tried to shake it off. A.hanks, but 1B( okay.B e
watched until the !an was lost in the darkness, e!ents of the
day flashing in front of his eyes like a kaleidoscope. e
shuddered, then turned to *oetie .al?aard. AA dreadful
business,B he said aloud.
A'a,B ca(e the retort. A%ouBd better co(e with (e,
Fonathan. .hereBs nothing in ,raserburg.B