Doctor Who_ Combat Rock - Mick Lewis [44]
‘He is just a man,’ Tigus replied, face hardening with suspicion at the Doctor’s line of questioning. ‘Like any good man, he fight for right.’
‘But why does he wield so much power over your people?’
Kepennis looked up from his game of cards and answered for Tigus. ‘Because he has suffered more,’ he said simply.
‘His child shot, his wife raped and murdered. He captured and tortured before escape and hide in woods.’
Tigus leapt up and kicked the guide’s cards from his hands in an unexpected burst of fury.
‘You speak for us? You dare? What you know of Krallik with your greed and your treachery?’ In his anger he continued to speak in English, his eyes blazing, hand straying towards his machete.
Kepennis looked down at the cards scattered in the grass.
‘Everyone know the story in Papul,’ he said defensively, like a scolded child. ‘He is hero to us too, even you think we no good. We just try survive how we can. And it is difficult enough with Wemus’s cooking.’
His attempt at humour was so incongruous that the leader was momentarily speechless. It looked as though he was going to gut Kepennis with his machete for a second, then be actually smiled. Wemus smiled too, somewhat gratefully.
‘Why everyone pick on me?’ he said plaintively.
Kepennis calmly collected his cards and continued dealing.
‘So he formed the OPG?’ the Doctor hypothesised, addressing Tigus to prevent any further confrontation.
Tigus grunted. ‘Eight rain seasons ago this happen. Live jungle since. Deep in swamps. Deep, deep, where only Anibal and strange beasts live. Mothers tell children tales of Krallik to scare them to sleep. Fathers would throw away their lives for him. I not say truth before: I hear he is more than man. His hate make him more. His experience change him. He live only to secure freedom for Papul, by whatever means. No-one ever see Krallik – he is mystery, that how he work. When recruit men, always mask, safer for him, more mystery. The Papul fear him too, yes.’ And now he grinned, almost savagely and raised his voice for the benefit of Budi, Ussman and the two girls. ‘But the Indoni fear him more...’ Then, as if angry at having said maybe too much, he rounded on his men and with guttural commands ordered them to break camp.
Soon the party was trudging along the precarious trail that topped the ravine, and despite the more relaxed atmosphere, the machetes and rifles were still very much in evidence.
It soon became clear exactly how they were going to traverse the river. Ahead of them a very insubstantial and frail-looking rope bridge hung above the torrent.
Tigus led the party to the two wooden poles that were the piers of the bridge. Santi took one look at all the missing rungs and folded her arms.
‘No way Santi cross that!’
‘It doesn’t look very safe, does it?’ the Doctor agreed. The bridge consisted of two parallel ropes at shoulder height spanning the river, and two beneath, the latter attached to each other by slats of wood or rungs that were supposed to provide effective passage across the ravine. Trouble was, most of them were missing. The bridge was suspended about thirty metres above the frothing tumult and didn’t look very inspiring at all.
Tigus nudged Santi’s backside with his machete. She rounded on him furiously, but the look on his face made her think twice about slapping him. Wina smiled with genuine pleasure.
When nobody made any move towards crossing, Tigus dropped the machete and snatched a rifle from one of his cohorts. He ratcheted the catch and placed the barrel securely against the Doctor’s head.
‘I – I think we’d better do as he says,’ the Doctor stammered woefully.
The river was everything in this part of Papul. It was the main road, the artery, the connection between isolated communities.
It provided food, clothes, news, even civilisation of a sort. The seemingly endless Wildmaan meant life to all the