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AFTER ANOTHER HOUR the underbrush began to thin out, and they soon found themselves surrounded by savanna dotted with clusters of baobab. A mile to their left, the grassland again gave way to rain forest that rose to meet the escarpment, while to their right they could see the Canal des Pangalanes; beyond that, the blue of the Indian Ocean.
They stopped walking and took a water break. After a gulp from his canteen, the Kid said, “So this Blaylock fella . . . He sounds like quite a character.”
Remi nodded. “The problem is, we still don’t know how much of his story is real and how much is malaria- and grief-induced fantasy.”
“That’s the blessing and the curse of adventure,” the Kid replied.
“As far as I’m concerned, one should never miss the chance to take the road less traveled.”
Sam smiled and held up his canteen. “Cheers to that.”
They clicked canteens.
“Why don’t you two take a break. I’m going to do some scouting. I think we’re close, but I need to do some checking around.”
The Kid dropped his pack and walked off through the knee-high grass. Sam and Remi plopped down on the gr
ound and listened to the waves crashing on the beach. A cluster of rainbow-hued butterflies drifted across the tops of the grass, fluttered above their heads for a few moments, then continued on. From a nearby baobab a ring-tailed lemur hung upside down staring at them. After two minutes of this, he slowly climbed up and out of view.
Without a sound, the Kid reappeared behind them. “Eureka,” he simply said.
IT WAS A FIVE-MINUTE WALK away. As they topped a small, steep-sided hillock, the Kid stopped and spread his hands.
“Here?” Sam asked.
“Here. After the earthquake the cove closed up and the water evaporated, leaving just the upper part of the island exposed. Eighty years of ocean silt and storms filled in the depression.”
Sam and Remi looked around. Thankfully, the hillock measured no more than four hundred square feet.
Remi said, “I suppose we find the center point and start walking.”
The Kid asked, “How many spans did Blaylock indicate?”
“Fourteen hundred forty-two. A little under two miles.”
The Kid checked the sky. “In Madagascar time, that’s three or four hours, most of it back in the rain forest. My recommendation: We settle in for the night.”
CHAPTER 30
MADAGASCAR, INDIAN OCEAN
THEY WERE UP SHORTLY AFTER DAWN. AT THE KID’S INSISTENCE, Sam and Remi wandered down to a tidal pool for a rinse off while he threw together a meal of truffles and cassava hash browns. They returned to camp just as the percolator was beginning to boil. Remi poured three cups while Sam helped the Kid serve.
“Probably should ask you,” the Kid said between forkfuls, “how much do you know about the situation here?”
“You mean politically?” Sam replied. “Not much, aside from what we read in the papers—a coup, a new president, and an angry ex-president in exile.”
“That’s the short of it. What you don’t know is the ex-president is back from exile. Rumor is he’s back and has set up shop in Maroantsetra, up the coast. If he manages to put together enough men and guns, there’ll probably be a civil war; if he doesn’t, it’ll be a massacre. Either way, it’s not the best time to be a white face on the island. Around the cities you’re okay, but out here . . .” The Kid shrugged. “Might want to keep a sharp eye out.”
“For what?” asked Remi.
“Mostly guys with AK-47s riding around in pickup trucks.”
“So we should hope we see them before they see us.”
“That would be the idea. Even if not, if you look like you’re more trouble than you’re worth, they might move on. Whenever politics get stirred up like this, the underdogs sometimes look at kidnapping as an income-and-leverage opportunity.”
Sam said, “With luck we’ll be back in Antananarivo before nightfall.”
