Fear No Evil. John Davis Gordon

car. I don’t think you’ll keep up with us; you’ll be left behind. It would be much better if you went back and told them to leave us alone.’

      She cried. ‘Where are you going?’

      But he turned away from her and made a low whistling sound. All about her in the dark the big animals turned and shuffled; then he was moving among them like a shadow, making soft muttering noises, touching them and calling them by name. She grabbed her knapsack, too desperate to marvel at what she was seeing.

      They slithered down the embankment at Sams Gap, and scrambled onto the highway. Davey ran across the road and leaped up into the forest on the other side, and the animals loped and lumbered urgently after him, followed by Big Charlie and Sam. Last of all stumbled Dr. Elizabeth Johnson.

      Davey slogged up through the black forest, across the mountain-side, the animals strung out behind him. Elizabeth gasped. ‘Mr Buffalohorn!’

      Big Charlie hesitated, then stopped. She toiled up to him, and dropped her medical bag.

      ‘You better quit, ma’am.’

      ‘I’m coming, dammit!’

      She was bent double, hands on knees, head hanging. He hesitated, then picked up her doctor’s bag. He turned and started after the animals.

      She straightened, exhausted, then started stumbling doggedly after him.

      Just before sunrise Davey stopped. They were in dense forest about a mile down-mountain from the Appalachian Trail. Somewhere, above the thudding of her heart, Elizabeth could hear a waterfall. He said, ahead in the dark, ‘We’re sleeping here.’

      She looked exhaustedly about for a good spot. She badly wanted to sleep near him, or Big Charlie, or both.

      But she was not going to ask. She wasn’t going to sleep surrounded by animals either. She went plodding back up the mountainside, struggling through the undergrowth, for about twenty paces. Then down she slumped.

      She woke with sun on her eyelids. And the dread.

      She blinked; all she could see was dense foliage. She struggled out of her sleeping bag, then her heart suddenly tripped as she heard a branch snap. She jerked around and stared, heart pounding; then closed her eyes. They were still here—that was the sound of an elephant feeding.

      ‘Mr. Jordan?’ she whispered.

      The elephant jerked and blundered farther into the forest.

      It was completely silent but for the hammering of her heart. She stood there, feeling helpless, afraid. She started rolling up her sleeping bag. Then out of the corner of her eyes she noticed a pair of black hairy legs. She jerked up, and looked straight into the blinking face of a chimpanzee, holding Big Charlie’s hand.

      ‘Oh, thank God …’ She closed her eyes. ‘Where’s Mr. Jordan?’

      Charlie nodded downhill. ‘Asleep down there aways. Don’t do anything to wake him.’

      ‘And the animals?’

      ‘Down there too.’ He looked at her uncomfortably, eyes hooded in his brown face: ‘You’d better quit and go back today, Dr. Johnson. For your own sake.’

      He had said it kindly. There was nothing she’d like better than to quit.

      ‘Well, I’m not going to … my own sake doesn’t matter. I’m staying for the animals’ sake.’

      He built a tiny fire of dry twigs between two stones, balanced a little tin can of water and made coffee.

      ‘How long are you staying here?’

      ‘Until sunset. The animals need a good rest.’

      ‘And then?’

      He did not answer. She wanted to cry out, For God’s sake tell me where you think you’re going.

      ‘The Garden of Eden, you said last night.’

      Big Charlie fed twigs into the tiny fire. ‘Yes.’

      She blurted, ‘There’s no such place.’

      He did not answer. She closed her eyes in frustration. ‘Oh, for God’s sake give it up. They’re going to be shot to pieces. You know what a beast the American so-called hunter is! And I saw them, getting ready …’

      He was staring into the little fire. Her hands were clenched; she stared at his big profile. He turned and looked at her, kindly.

      ‘It’s no good talking about it, Dr. Johnson.’

      ‘Where?’ she whispered fiercely. ‘And how the hell are you going to get there?’

      ‘It’s no use, Dr. Johnson. And it’s no good trying to talk to Davey about it, either. He’s got enough on his mind.’

      She snorted. ‘Of course I’m going to talk to him; I don’t care how angry he gets.’

      Big Charlie shook his head.

      ‘He won’t get mad. Takes an awful lot to make Davey mad. He just won’t argue with you, that’s all. He’ll just walk away.’

      Big Charlie stood up and turned away himself.

      ‘Where are you going?’she appealed.

      He stopped and looked back at her. Then she understood.

      ‘All right—I won’t talk about it anymore. Please don’t leave me here …’

      ‘Okay. Come with me.’

      He started walking back up the mountain. She started hurrying painfully after him.

      About half a mile up the mountain, on a rocky outcrop, sat Sam, on guard, thumping his tail in welcome.

      She would remember it disjointedly: her body aching, her head light from not enough sleep; the unreality of the forest, the animals, the twittering of the birds through her harried thoughts; the whole extraordinary thing. The big Indian sat, waiting. The gentleness behind his bulk, the quiet strength that did not need to be leashed because it was so … confident? So gentle that she did not want to upset him by breaking her bargain. She would, she had to—but at the right moment.

      And the strange, beautiful wolf-dog, Sam. He was so serious, ears cocked, staring fixedly up the mountainside. Suspicious of her, tolerating her only because of the Indian’s presence. She wanted him to accept her, she wanted to stretch out and fondle him, tell him he was a good dog. But she didn’t—it would almost have been a presumption, an intrusion into such professionalism. But all the while was the frustration of waiting.

      ‘Does Sam understand?’

      The wolf laid his ears back, but did not turn.

      ‘Sure.’

      ‘That he’s on guard for pursuers?’

      Big Charlie looked at her. ‘Of course. He’s trained.’

      Of course. It seemed a silly question now. ‘What’ll he do if he sees anybody coming? Bark?’

      ‘Run and wake Davey. He knows he’s got to keep his mouth shut unless it’s a real emergency.’

      Oh, lovely Sam …

      ‘Is he very fierce?’

      A wisp of a smile crossed Charlie’s face.

      ‘He’s pretty friendly.’

      ‘But would he attack?’

      ‘Only if he had to. Then he’d be fierce. But usually his bark’s worse than his bite.’

      She smiled. ‘How does he like the other animals?’

      ‘He likes them fine. He’s used to them.’

      ‘But he’s never had to herd them before.’

      ‘No. I guess he’s