Free Ivory Ghosts by Caitlin O'Connell

soothed myself by listening to the cacophony of frog calls surrounding me. I tried to focus on each kind of call until the shadows that the candle created became unnerving, making it impossible to see into the distance. I blew out the candle and my eyes adjusted to the night as the frogs continued to calm my jangled nerves. The kazoo calls stood out from the water droplet and chime calls at seemingly impossible volumes for such little tree frogs.
    The kettle started to boil and I made tea, opened a can of vegetable curry, dumped it into the tiny pot from my mess kit, and walked back outside. Although this was one of the few canned meals that could be eaten cold, I needed something hot after consuming too many crackers and too much peanut butter over the last few days.
    In between the frenzied bouts of frog calls, all I could hear was the insistent whine of mosquitoes as they approached my ear. I swatted them away as the frogs resumed their competition. I went inside to stir my food so it wouldn’t burn. When it was warm enough to be considered almost hot, I carried it outside along with a spoon. I ate the creamy curried peas and potato and carrot chunks with relish.
    At a sudden rustling noise in the bush, I whipped my head around. But there was nothing but darkness. The frog chorus continued as I resumed eating. There was the noise again. This time, it was much louder, and I turned on my night-vision goggles and looked into the bushes. Nothing but damp vegetation. I turned the scope off and closed my eyes.
    Another rustling sound in the bush right in front of me snapped me back to full attention. I stood on the end of the porch and looked back and forth through my green grainy goggles but couldn’t see anything.
    Then something large and dark caught my eye at the edge of the drive, just behind the car. I panned over to see an enormous hippopotamus looking like a blimp held up by four short stumps. He was not happy to see me.
    He flared his nostrils at me for some time before shuffling off. But he wasn’t the one making the noise in the bushes. I knew I was psyching myself out and needed to go to bed. But the last thing I wanted was to be cooped up in that horrible dank little room wrapped in a mosquito net. As I braced myself for the thought of an icy shower first, I heard a faint noise over the floodplain that grew louder and louder. It was an airplane.
    I ran out into the open road and looked up through the goggles and zoomed in, but the plane was too far away and moving too quickly for me to see any numbers. It sounded like a Cessna 182, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw a symbol near the tail—the Red Cross symbol.

Chapter 10
    Early Monday morning, a burst of urgent, demonic calls jolted me awake. In the branches of the sausage tree outside, a large troop of baboons were waking up. I had heard them squawk and caterwaul as they settled in the night before, but this sound was different. This was the sound of intense, life-threatening danger, with determined parents warding off the evil threat of a stalking leopard.
    Bark! Hoo-ha!
The synchronized roaring and screeching pervaded the air, punctuated with a sick guttural moaning. I looked out the window screen and spotted the alpha male in his perch on a low branch, his gaze trained on the floodplain where the leopard must have been. Since my watch said five A.M. , I lay back down and fell asleep again.
    I woke with a start at seven thirty, thinking about the plane that flew overhead the night before. I had to get to Katima to start asking more questions. And yet, considering what had just happened with the rangers, I probably needed to pay Baggs a visit first.
    After a painfully cold shower, I caught my broken reflection in the shattered bathroom mirror. I leaned closer to peer at the fractals rimming my tired eyes. Despite my thinking that I was adjusting, I could see I wasn’t. I brushed a long tangle of hair out of my face and pressed at the tiny crow’s-feet