Free The Greystoke Legacy by Andy Briggs Page A

memory—ice-skating in Central Park one Christmas.
    Festive decorations strung between trees; the open-air rink was filled with people enjoying themselves. Sophie teaching him how to skate and giggling every time he fell over. Her laughter was so infectious that he couldn’t help laughing too . . .
    That was the last time he’d heard her laugh. He pushed the memory aside. The rocks he sat on were the first place he’d come across where Jane could have washed ashore, but there was no trace she had done so. A fragment of doubt began to gnaw at Robbie. Maybe Clark was right, maybe blindly searching for Jane was a stupid idea.
    â€œPull yourself together,” he muttered. The word maybe often led to in­action and procrastination. It was what had led him to endure misery in New York. If he had acted sooner, maybe things would have been very different.
    A branch cracked.
    The crack was one of the most chilling sounds to hear while sitting alone in one of the most remote places on earth. Robbie realized he was completely exposed to whatever was approaching.
    His hand slowly went to the pistol poking from his pocket. He twisted his neck a fraction as foliage gently rustled.
    Then something stepped out just behind him. It was a small deer standing one-and-a-half feet tall with brown-gray fur and short horns—a cute-looking Peters’s duiker. Robbie had seen them brought back to Karibu Mji for food. The timid animal sniffed the air and stared at Robbie. Robbie hadn’t moved for some time, so the duiker didn’t see him as a threat. It approached the water’s edge and began to drink, keeping one cautious eye on Robbie as it did so.
    Robbie didn’t want to scare the little guy. He was glad of the company and the reassurance that not everything in the jungle was out to kill him.
    The water suddenly erupted as something darted for the duiker. In the white froth, Robbie could only see a massive pair of crocodile jaws clamp down on the deer before it could react. The reptile vanished with its prize as quickly as it had appeared. Robbie didn’t stay to watch—he was sprinting through the undergrowth as fast as possible.
    â€¢â€¢â€¢
    Despite her protests, Tarzan led Jane down the steep trail to the lake. She found it difficult, pain shooting down her leg from the wound, but Tarzan made no effort to assist her. They passed several gorillas who watched them with interest but didn’t react to the stranger in their midst. Tarzan would greet each new gorilla with a throaty grumble, which they replied to. Jane realized it meant “everything is OK,” but she still kept close to Tarzan, not wishing to be left alone with the brutes.
    â€œYou have to understand, I need to get to my home!” She had been complaining the entire way to the lake, but Tarzan had ignored her. They reached the lakeshore at the base of the waterfall and Tarzan gestured across the water.
    â€œVery nice,” said Jane without looking. “I know you can understand a little of what I say . . .”
    Tarzan gently gripped her chin, forcing her to look across the lake. He was too strong for her to resist. She was about to continue speaking when she saw it.
    The sun was dipping below the caldera edge, sending golden rays across the lake, and silhouetting the gorillas drinking from the bank. Across the lake, in the last vestiges of the setting sun, a dozen odd-looking deer swam in the water—water chevrotain, she recalled from the pictures Esmée had shown her—their mouse-like heads ducking to eat submerged weeds. From the plateau the view had taken her breath away, but down here it was even more stunning.
    She took a step forward, her hand brushing tall curling orchids; their sweet smell overwhelmed her senses. The bank was covered with vibrant flora, clinging to every available surface.
    â€œIt’s . . . it’s beautiful,” she finally admitted. It had