Oliver Strange and the Journey to the Swamps. Dianne Hofmeyr

and then swept up into the sky like rain going upwards.

      Ollie froze.

      Through gaps in the vapour, he saw the widest river he had ever seen. It roared and tumbled in frothing, white torrents into a rock chasm that fell steeply away at his feet into swirling mists below. They were on the very edge of the highest precipice he’d ever stood on. The only thing between him and this huge, bottomless pit was a small wooden railing as frail as a fence made of matchsticks. His stomach turned a complete somersault.

      “See what I mean!” Zinzi bellowed over the roar. “Mosi-oa-Tunya! The smoke that thunders!”

      “Mosi-oa-Tunya …” Ollie echoed the words.

      Zinzi put her hands to her mouth. “Mosi-oa-Tunya … Mosi-oa-Tunya …!” she shouted into the swirls of water vapour. The sound wove into the thundering voice of the river.

      Ollie took a deep breath and shuffled a tiny bit closer to the matchstick fence. The ground was muddy and slippery. The height was terrifying. One slip and he’d be over the edge.

      It was then that he saw the man again. He was standing a little way back in his dark raincoat with his umbrella pulled down low.

      “He’s following us.”

      “Who?”

      “That man.” Ollie indicated with his thumb.

      “He’s not following us. He’s a tourist.”

      “He’s giving me the creeps.”

      “He’s a tourist, Ollie.”

      “He’s not dressed like one. He doesn’t have a camera.”

      Zinzi laughed. “Nor do you! Not every tourist wears safari clothes and carries a camera. Don’t be so spooked. Quick-start! Come on, Ollie! There’s no time!” She grabbed his arm. “Let’s get to the bridge.”

      They ran along a muddy pathway which zigzagged through the dripping forest. Shafts of sunlight made triple rainbows in the vapour. The man was still following them. Then they were out of the forest and into the sunshine on the road to the bridge.

      A signboard with big red letters read:

      YOU ARE APPROACHING THE BORDER

       BETWEEN ZIMBABWE AND ZAMBIA.

      NO UNAUTHORISED PERSONS.

      PASSPORT NEEDED.

      The sun was in Ollie’s eyes. He caught a flash of colour. Then a shape plunged over the bridge railings followed by a long, drawn out scream.

      His stomach turned a cartwheel. “Someone’s” – he could hardly get the words out – “someone’s jumped off the bridge!”

      Zinzi laughed. “It’s a bungee jump, silly.”

      “Bungee what?”

      “Bungee jump. He’s tied to an elastic rope. Everyone knows that!”

      Ollie gulped. Everyone except him. Now he read the sign attached to a cage-like structure that hung out over the railings in the middle of the bridge.

      BUNGEE VIC FALLS!

      LEAP INTO THE UNKNOWN!

      WE DARE YOU!

      111 METRES OF PURE ADRENALINE RUSH!

      Minimum age 14 years

      Minimum weight 40 kg, maximum weight 140 kg

      He saw the loops of cable and winches and harnesses hanging from the side of the cage. Then he glanced down over the railings. His stomach twisted. Far, far below, the Zambezi River was churning through a narrow gorge of white rapids.

      Worse than that, a boy who looked no more than a tiny caterpillar on a thread was hanging upside down by his feet, still bouncing and twirling back and forth on the end of a rope with his head barely skimming the frothing water.

      Why? he wanted to ask. But he swallowed hard. Zinzi wouldn’t understand. He gave her a quick sideways glance, trying to hide the sick feeling in his stomach and nodded. “I knew it was a bungee jump!”

      A man in a helmet whizzed down on a winch to help the boy come back up to the bridge. Ollie watched the next nervy jumper get harnessed up and creep out onto the caged platform. The gate was clipped open and he sat dangling his legs into nothing but air. The river was a long, loooong way down. Ollie could see the instructor mouthing things at him. Then suddenly the person leapt with his arms outstretched, his eyes closed tight like Icarus falling to the earth.

      Plunging down … down, dowwwn! A never-ending fall.

      The cable seemed to stretch to its limit but still he dropped. He was going to die. To hit that water and die.

      But no. Just at the last moment the cable sprang back again and bounced him upwards into the air like a puppet, then down he went again. Above the noise of the river he heard people at the railing cheering.

      Zinzi jabbed him with her elbow. She had an excited, fearless look in her eyes. “I’d do it if we had more time.”

      “Then lucky for you we don’t.”

      “I would. I’m telling you.”

      “You’re not fourteen.”

      “I could tell them I was.”

      Ollie smiled back weakly. Try as hard as he could, his face wasn’t able to match Zinzi’s fearless look. Things in Africa were making him dizzy.

      As they turned to go back across the bridge, he saw the creepy man in the dark raincoat turn as well.

      A shiver ran through him.

      4

      A Whisper of Something Sinister

      “You wouldn’t have, would you?”

      “Are you saying I’m chicken?”

      “Your eyeballs would pop out.”

      “Did you see anyone with popped-out eyeballs, Ollie?”

      Ollie thought of that downward rush. He knew his eyeballs would pop out. There was no way he could do it.

      The driver was revving the engine to keep it rumbling over. The bus was crowded and smelt of fumes and brake fluid. Inside it was as hot as an oven. The aisle was blocked with sacks of rice and maize meal and the overhead racks were overflowing.

      They found two seats in the back row. A huge tyre was propped up against the emergency escape window.

      Ollie wiped a clear porthole on the dirty glass. He peered out to grab one last look. Clouds of water vapour mixed with the dust churned up by the bus.

      At least they’d got rid of the creepy man following them.

      Zinzi handed him a corn cob and a mango. Bobo immediately poked her head out and started to squeal. In the excitement of the bungee jump, Ollie had forgotten her.

      Zinzi tore at a mango with her teeth, took a bite and offered a piece to Bobo. She ate quickly then searched Zinzi’s hand for more. Then she groomed her face and settled down to sleep again.

      Ollie chewed on his corn cob. Around him people were talking loudly. Their voices rose up through the rumble of the bus like bubbles from water. But the man in front of him was oddly silent. Ollie stopped chewing and stared.

      An icy flash of lightning streaked up his spine. Surely not? Could it be?

      Yes, it was. No raincoat now. But dark sunglasses with a hat pulled down low. He was talking softly into a mobile phone cradled close to his face.

      Ollie nudged Zinzi. “It’s him.”

      “Who?”