of chess; each player started out
on the attack with such intent, rushing their Queens and Rooks into the fray
with only final victory on their minds until inevitably the issue was forced,
and the losing King was left to run around in ever decreasing circles until the
final blow was struck.
Well my knee-to-the-nuts had sapped
Captain Bolaji of all his Bishops, Knights and Rooks and only a few token Pawns
stood between him and Check Mate. Captain Bolaji recognised this and did what
everyone in his position always did when their time came. He pleaded with me to
“wait”, used the last of his strength to delay the inevitable and prayed for a
miracle to save him.
It arrived right on cue, just as I was
about to deliver to killer blow.
11.
THUNDERCLAP
A white hot flash filled the sky behind me, searing my back and making me
recoil in surprise. A supersonic blast of superheated air arrived right on its
tail and me and Captain Bolaji scrambled away to escape its wrath, throwing
ourselves behind a rocky overhang as bushes and trees spontaneously combusted
all around us as far as the eye could see.
The nuke – I’d forgotten about it.
I could tell by the confusion on Captain
Bolaji’s face that he hadn’t been part of His Most Excellent Majesty’s strategy
meetings either and was probably wondering if we’d managed to stab each other
and taken a tumble into hell as a consequence.
Because hell was exactly what we’d found.
Fire raged on all sides, sucking the
oxygen from the air and choking us where we cowered. Having seen firestorms
before I knew we’d suffocate if we stayed where we were. We had to get away,
find air and a respite from the heat. The solution was no more than fifty yards
away.
The Zambezi.
I shouted this at Captain Bolaji and he
nodded to show that he understood, so we jumped to our feet and sprinted as one
through the burning vista.
The heat was incredible, almost too much
to bear, and it came in rolling waves as we careened in zigzags through the
crackling vegetation, feeling the most bearable route down to the river. If
we’d stumbled, we would have undoubtedly roasted where we’d dropped, but our
movement prevented us from burning too deeply. Like hogs on a spit, we cooked
all over, slowly but evenly until the river was suddenly there, broad and
inviting, and we leapt into its cool waters without hesitation.
The relief was all embracing and we
bobbed in the swell as the current swept us downriver and away from the flames.
But this was when our problems really started. See, we weren’t the only ones
who’d had the brilliant idea of hitting the water the moment the bomb went off.
Every croc and hippo sunning itself on the water’s edge had decided that was
enough sun for one afternoon so that the Zambezi was now standing room only
with all creatures great and small.
The first thing to have a lunge at me was
a fifteen-foot crocodile with tan lines across his face. I managed to keep it
at arms length with a boot on the nose and a branch in its eye before I was
helped out by a passing impala which floated straight
into his outstretched mouth.
And the impala wasn’t the only one who
was having an off day. Lots of half-cooked antelopes and wildebeests clogged
the waters in a desperate attempt to escape the flames, some were kicking and
whinnying, some were not, but the crocodiles quickly recognised the bounty for
what it was.
I decided to take my chances back on
shore when a submerged hippo took exception to my proximity and I floundered
and thrashed about in the rip until I fished up on a silt beach nearby.
I pulled myself clear of the water, but
stayed close to the river for the air and finally allowed myself to actually
put a little thought into my next move, rather than simply reacting to whatever
was trying to shoot, roast or eat me.
After a little frantic splashing and a
cry of “Oh God please no”, I had company in the form of Captain Bolaji, who
hauled himself out of
on the attack with such intent, rushing their Queens and Rooks into the fray
with only final victory on their minds until inevitably the issue was forced,
and the losing King was left to run around in ever decreasing circles until the
final blow was struck.
Well my knee-to-the-nuts had sapped
Captain Bolaji of all his Bishops, Knights and Rooks and only a few token Pawns
stood between him and Check Mate. Captain Bolaji recognised this and did what
everyone in his position always did when their time came. He pleaded with me to
“wait”, used the last of his strength to delay the inevitable and prayed for a
miracle to save him.
It arrived right on cue, just as I was
about to deliver to killer blow.
11.
THUNDERCLAP
A white hot flash filled the sky behind me, searing my back and making me
recoil in surprise. A supersonic blast of superheated air arrived right on its
tail and me and Captain Bolaji scrambled away to escape its wrath, throwing
ourselves behind a rocky overhang as bushes and trees spontaneously combusted
all around us as far as the eye could see.
The nuke – I’d forgotten about it.
I could tell by the confusion on Captain
Bolaji’s face that he hadn’t been part of His Most Excellent Majesty’s strategy
meetings either and was probably wondering if we’d managed to stab each other
and taken a tumble into hell as a consequence.
Because hell was exactly what we’d found.
Fire raged on all sides, sucking the
oxygen from the air and choking us where we cowered. Having seen firestorms
before I knew we’d suffocate if we stayed where we were. We had to get away,
find air and a respite from the heat. The solution was no more than fifty yards
away.
The Zambezi.
I shouted this at Captain Bolaji and he
nodded to show that he understood, so we jumped to our feet and sprinted as one
through the burning vista.
The heat was incredible, almost too much
to bear, and it came in rolling waves as we careened in zigzags through the
crackling vegetation, feeling the most bearable route down to the river. If
we’d stumbled, we would have undoubtedly roasted where we’d dropped, but our
movement prevented us from burning too deeply. Like hogs on a spit, we cooked
all over, slowly but evenly until the river was suddenly there, broad and
inviting, and we leapt into its cool waters without hesitation.
The relief was all embracing and we
bobbed in the swell as the current swept us downriver and away from the flames.
But this was when our problems really started. See, we weren’t the only ones
who’d had the brilliant idea of hitting the water the moment the bomb went off.
Every croc and hippo sunning itself on the water’s edge had decided that was
enough sun for one afternoon so that the Zambezi was now standing room only
with all creatures great and small.
The first thing to have a lunge at me was
a fifteen-foot crocodile with tan lines across his face. I managed to keep it
at arms length with a boot on the nose and a branch in its eye before I was
helped out by a passing impala which floated straight
into his outstretched mouth.
And the impala wasn’t the only one who
was having an off day. Lots of half-cooked antelopes and wildebeests clogged
the waters in a desperate attempt to escape the flames, some were kicking and
whinnying, some were not, but the crocodiles quickly recognised the bounty for
what it was.
I decided to take my chances back on
shore when a submerged hippo took exception to my proximity and I floundered
and thrashed about in the rip until I fished up on a silt beach nearby.
I pulled myself clear of the water, but
stayed close to the river for the air and finally allowed myself to actually
put a little thought into my next move, rather than simply reacting to whatever
was trying to shoot, roast or eat me.
After a little frantic splashing and a
cry of “Oh God please no”, I had company in the form of Captain Bolaji, who
hauled himself out of
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