The Delta by Tony Park

pointing off to the right.
    â€˜Really?’ She had a shot list a mile long to get through in the next three days so she and Ray and Gerry would not be sitting on their backsides while Coyote Sam lazed around his camp site, starving. ‘Light’s pretty good now. Let’s get some giraffe shots, Ray.’
    â€˜Yes ma’am,’ replied the cameraman.
    â€˜Can you take us lower?’
    â€˜Not a problem. You’re the guys with the greenbacks,’ John grinned.
    Cheryl-Ann felt her stomach lurch as the Kiwi – she liked the sound of that – brought the chopper around the giraffes in a wide arc, losing altitude as he set them up for the shot, with the sun behind them. He was professional and courteous, and had obviously worked with film crews and professional photographers before. Plus, he had a nice arse in those shorts.
    â€˜Nice,’ she said into her microphone.
    â€˜Thanks,’ John said, glancing back over his shoulder at her again. ‘Shit!’
    A warning siren blared loudly above the background hum of the engines, filling the helicopter’s passengers with instant fear.
    â€˜What’s that?’ Cheryl-Ann asked.
    Little ignored them, his fingers roving across the panel in front of him. ‘Mayday, mayday, mayday …’
    Sam checked his watch for the fourth time in twelve minutes. It was still three minutes to go until seven o’clock. It wasn’t that he was scared of the lion – it still sounded a long way off – but the hyena seemed much closer.
    Woooo-oooop
, it called again. Another replied. Sam stoked the fire and tossed on another undersized piece of wood. The bundle he had collected had diminished quickly, as much of it was rotten, reduced to the weight of cardboard by termites. He doubted there would be enough to keep the fire going all night. Tomorrow he would have to look for a log, and remember to check for snakes. Stirling had stopped the Land Rover on the first day beside a fallen tree and they had all wondered what he was looking at, until the rock python raised its huge head and testedthe air with its tongue. ‘We often stop here for sundowners and some of the tourists sit on that tree,’ he’d said, not attempting to hide his patronising tone.
    Sam unzipped the tent, which he had kept closed since he erected it, in case anything wanted to slither or crawl inside. He knew that during the night he should keep the flap zipped closed, no matter how hot it got, or what he heard going on outside. He checked his watch again, sighed, then pressed the record button on the camera.
    â€˜As long as I stay zipped inside my tent tonight I
should
be OK.’ He could see his face in the flip-out LED screen, which was reversible so that he could check his image while the camera recorded. The camera had a night-vision function and his features were captured in atmospheric but slightly blurry lime-green light. ‘That’s a hyena you can hear in the distance, and they’ve been known to rip into tents if they smell food inside. Luckily,’ he laughed for effect, ‘my crew hasn’t left me any food to eat, so I should be safe from the hyenas. As for those lions you heard earlier, they hunt by sight and sound, much the same way as your house cat does. If they see something moving, they’ll investigate and pounce on it. However, they don’t have great depth perception so when they see my tent, the theory is they’ll think it’s a solid object, like an anthill or a rock. If I unzip and stick my head out to take a peek at them, they might just jump on me, like a cat pouncing on a mouse. Difference is, these cats can weigh in at around six hundred pounds. Now I know how a mouse feels.’
    He switched off the camera and checked his watch. He wondered if his monologues would look as lame on TV as they sounded to him now. One thing about Cheryl-Ann, she had a good eye for editing and timing. She’d