Free Fever by V. K. Powell Page B

taste.”
    Sara felt the color drain from her face. Her stomach churned as much from the knowledge of what she’d drunk as its actual taste. She watched Zak and Imani down some of the offensive elixir and thought she might faint. They laughed together, then engaged in an animated conversation in Swahili, probably at her expense. After the gourd made its final pass around the circle, the group started to break up. Couples paired off and disappeared into their huts with children in tow. Chief Owenga, Ben, Imani, and Zak huddled together discussing something in Swahili that sounded serious.
    Ben handed Zak a folded piece of paper and when she opened it, her entire demeanor changed from relaxed to anxious. Though Sara couldn’t understand Zak’s words, she recognized the angry tone. Imani placed a hand on her arm as if to calm her and nodded in Sara’s direction. They continued in hushed voices until the headlights of two vehicles flashed through the camp.
    The Maasai night watchman escorted a short, red-faced man and an African into the compound. “I’m Roger Kamau, the new guide.” He directed his comments to Sara. “I’ve brought two vehicles and the supplies. Randall sends his regards.”
    After a round of introductions, Zak offered Roger a seat near the fire to discuss the takeover, as she called it. As Sara listened to Zak explain the preliminary details, she realized their association was being terminated. Maybe she was just feeling helpless out here in the middle of nowhere, but the idea of turning her safety over to this man made her as queasy as drinking cow’s blood.
    “Do you speak Swahili?” Sara hoped for any excuse to send him back where he came from. Zak might be annoying and stubborn, but at least Sara felt safe with her.
    “No, but I don’t think that will be a problem. The primary language in Africa is English.”
    “We’ll be in the bush country.” Sara felt like a dog with a bone. “I’d feel more comfortable with a native speaker.” Zak gave her a quizzical look. “We can talk more about this in the morning. I’m not feeling well.” The milk concoction did another flip in her stomach.
    “Of course, Ms. Ambrosini.” Roger rose as Sara did and wished her good night.
    As she moved away from the fire, Sara realized she had no idea where she was going. Before she could turn to ask the question, Zak and Imani flanked her. “There,” Imani said, pointing toward a hut near the back of the camp. She gave Zak a look that Sara was too tired and sick to interpret and disappeared.
    Zak pulled back the animal skin covering the door and waited for her to enter. “I know this isn’t exactly what you’re used to, but it’s only for one night. The sleeping section is to the left as you enter. Someone will keep the fire going inside, so you should be warm. I suggest you sleep in your clothes.”
    “I’ll be fine. Where will you sleep?”
    “I’m taking over rounds.”
    “You’re not going to rest?”
    She shook her head. “I’m not very good at it anyway. And don’t go outside the compound for any reason. The thorn-bush fence, campfire, and guards are here for a reason. Wild animals do attack villages from time to time.”
    “Good night.” Sara ducked her head and entered the hut, crouching inside to get her bearings in the darkness. Smoke drifted up from a small fire to the right of the doorway and out a hole in the ceiling. She choked on the dense fog, fanning to catch a clean breath. By morning she’d smell like a smoked Italian sausage. To the left was a mud half-wall that partially separated the entry area from a sleeping space. An animal skin that covered the hard-packed ground served as the bed. The entire structure was smaller than her closet at home.
    Sara was suddenly grateful for her long pants and shirt sleeves, mentally noting to check her body for hitchhikers in the morning. She took off her jacket and fashioned it into a pillow as she tried to get comfortable in the