25.

After I gave Caleb back his machete he sat down in a heap with it, still a mess, and the sight of his fingers worrying at his buzz-cut made me want to deal with the horror of what had happened. Xander was hurt. Though he carried the first-aid kit, Marcel was trying to comfort a stricken Patience, so it was up to Amelia and me to fashion a splint and stretcher using the bandages in the kit, straight bamboo poles we cut from a nearby thicket and the roll of duct tape I’d brought: though I knew there was no end to what that stuff could fix, I’d never imagined I’d end up using it for this.

Droplets of sweat stood out on Xander’s brow as we taped the makeshift splint to his leg. We’d already given him as many painkillers as the box said it was OK for him to take, and he claimed they were working to dull the fierce ache in his leg, but when we rolled him onto the stretcher he couldn’t stop himself shrieking. Amelia stood back once we had him settled in place.

‘Caleb,’ she said.

He snapped out of his reverie. ‘Yes?’

‘A stretcher has four handles. We each need to take one.’

In the dappled light that filtered through the trees at that moment he looked less substantial. ‘Of course,’ he agreed meekly.

‘You’re feeling guilty. It’s understandable,’ she went on. ‘Yet this was an accident. You didn’t intend for it to happen. None of us did.’

As ever there was logic in what Amelia was saying, but also as ever she was kind of missing the point: accidents happen when people are careless, stupid or so fixed on one outcome that they ignore other possible consequences of their actions. I know because I’ve had enough of them myself. Remembering that was possibly why I didn’t press the point then.

Caleb’s guilt, Xander’s injury, none of it mattered, set against Innocent’s death, and even that was somehow already history, thrown into relief by the horror of Patience’s grief. She’d been so calm throughout the trip, gliding effortlessly through the jungle as we struggled to keep up. Now she was a jittery, distraught mess. Amelia tried to comfort her but Patience shrugged her off and wandered away and slumped to her knees. Then she stretched herself out flat on the earth next to her father’s body, face down, moaning. I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but she seemed to be begging the ground to swallow her up.

Marcel radioed base camp. Amelia summed up the conversation: he’d called for more men to retrieve Innocent’s body, it being impossible for us to carry it back to camp as well as poor Xander. Marcel now covered the body with a foil blanket from the first-aid kit and attempted to lever Patience from the ground beside it. She wouldn’t come. Though she was only a skinny ten-year-old girl, Marcel couldn’t prise her away from her dead father. The thought of leaving her there alone was unbearable, but Xander needed medical attention. Marcel pleaded with Patience to come with us. So did Amelia. But she refused. She wanted to guard her father’s body until the rangers arrived. The three of us stood together with her for a moment beside the covered form. I was mesmerised by the sight of the foil glittering in the gloom. Marcel took hold of poor Patience, hugged her wordlessly and kissed her forehead. My throat was a knot watching him. Once he’d finished this silent act of consolation and moved away I laid Innocent’s machete, which I’d used to cut the branches for the stretcher, on the blood-soaked earth beside him. If and when the pathologist examined the body he might conclude Innocent was cut by his own knife when the gorilla charged. Why I wanted to protect Caleb in this way I cannot say.

Amelia, Marcel, Caleb and I each took a corner of the stretcher. I could not bring myself to look back at Patience as we left, and I hated myself for it. The weight of Xander split four ways wasn’t too bad at first, but the awkwardness of manhandling a stretcher through the forest meant that the going was slow. Every time one of us missed our footing or had to adjust quickly, jerking the stretcher, Xander flinched with fear and pain. The thought of dropping him made me concentrate very hard indeed. Everyone else did too: other than Marcel murmuring to Xander every now and then in French (I’ve no idea what he was saying but his tone was soothing) we barely spoke. During one of our many pauses Marcel cut some stems from a nearby tree and suggested Xander bite down on one against the pain. He told me afterwards that the wood tasted of aniseed and – whether it was just the distraction or some chemical property of the particular tree – that the chewing worked better than the pills we’d given him.

We fought our way back to a discernible path, but although the going got easier underfoot, by the time we reached it, Xander seemed to have trebled in weight. Amelia couldn’t stop herself groaning with the effort every few steps, and I was forced to call a halt more than once to gather my strength. Caleb, stony-faced, wouldn’t – or couldn’t – stoop to admit such weakness, but he shut his eyes and shook out his arms in relief every time we put the stretcher down. Only Marcel seemed to take the ordeal in his stride. In fact, noticing Amelia groaning, he offered to take her handle as well as his. She refused.

‘Might as well,’ said Caleb. Turning to me, he added, ‘If Marcel carries one end, I can take the other – give you a rest?’

‘Guys, I’m so sorry about this,’ muttered Xander.

‘You should be. Your leg may be broken, but my arms are about to fall off.’

Xander’s quick grin didn’t show in his eyes.

‘Wasn’t your fault,’ Caleb said, without looking at him.

‘It wasn’t anybody’s fault,’ said Amelia. ‘Not even Spenser’s. Especially not his, in fact. Let’s make sure the rangers know that. It was a freak accident.’

Caleb looked at her and sighed. His shoulders fell. When he spoke it was gently. ‘Come on, Jack. We’re both tired. Let’s try taking it in turns. I’ll start.’

With this Marcel lifted up both handles at the head end of the stretcher, and Caleb moved to pick up those at the feet. Since something about him in that moment seemed less about proving a point and more about actual kindness, I let him do it.

As it happens, we’d only made it a hundred metres in this formation before we met the team of rangers deployed to pick up Innocent’s body. There were a lot of them. They met us in virtual silence. Two of the rangers checked Caleb’s splint with deft fingers. Since they left it as it was, I assume Amelia and I had done an OK job. While they were doing that, Marcel took the only member of the team with grey hair to one side. I watched them closely. Sure enough, though I couldn’t quite hear the French, much less understand it, Marcel shot a quick nod in Caleb’s direction before pursing his lips and dropping his chin. The older guard snorted and his mouth set hard and something flickered in my chest. I was worried for my cousin. There’d be repercussions, the guard’s face said. This wasn’t over for Caleb.