The Barcode (Final)

A pleasant and refreshing wind blew hard against the two young men, as soon as the airport exit door opened and they found themselves on the outside, where series of taxis were queuing and departing with passengers and their luggage in a frantic and almost constant pace.

A dark-haired man in his mid-thirties, came up and asked where they were going to, but the two young men were focused on looking for a familiar head among the many who were standing along the boardwalk. The man insisted, but the two said they were waiting for someone, giving him less importance than he wanted.

The airport sliding doors opened and closed every few seconds, but they did not spot who they had hoped to see.

- I'm going back inside. Something might have happened...

- No. You're not! Do you think that in the midst of this mess, you'll find someone? Let's get out of here before it's too late. Enough of this story and these strange people.

The man, who was still around, insisted in offering them a different shuttle service, cheaper than the taxis. They tried to dismiss him, but he was very persistent. The boys then realized that if they were going to take a standard taxi they would have to wait in a line, which seemed to get longer as the minutes passed on and the cars were not so many anymore, so they decided to accept the other man’s offer.

- OK. OK. Where's the car?

- Right there, sir, in the parking lot. I cannot stop here, as I am not registered in this 'mafia' of airport taxis.

He was clearly dissatisfied with the existing system and just shook his head and moved on, with the two young men following him to where the car would be.

The boy wearing glasses still looked back one last time to make sure he would see the girl, but, amid the tumultuous back-and-forth of people on the sidewalk, it would be impossible to distinguish her head, among so many others. The other man just pulled him by the arm.

- Let's go! Forget it. It is time to go back to the base and to our normal life. It seems that even on holidays we still can’t stay away from these scrapes!

Shaking his head gloomily, the young man crossed the street and entered the parking lot, where the driver was waiting by the car, a shining black van. Someone had spent some time polishing it, contrary to what they would expect. The windows were covered with dark film which was the standard use in the transport cars of the second largest city in the country.

The man was dressed as a chauffeur with a black suit and a white shirt. His tie was in chalk stripe patterns, inclined at an angle to the right in different shades of blue, ranging from cerulean to cobalt on a navy blue background.

He opened the car trunk and carefully accommodated their backpacks in there. The two got into the back of the car, buckled their seat belts and told him where they wanted to go to. The man turned the ignition on and the door locks were automatically activated. He drove around and through the gate, which automatically opened and got out of the parking lot.

Turning right, on the street parallel to the main avenue, he slowed down and pulled over. The passenger front door was opened and a young woman, her hair arranged in a long black braid, came in and sat down beside him. She buckled the seat belt and said, without looking back:

- Let's go. Fast!

The two passengers were speechless. The driver sped up and it was only then that they realized that beneath the dark hair on the back of his head, the tip of a tattoo they knew very well appeared and caused them not only astonishment but also a certain fear.

***

The car, parked in an almost deserted area of ​​a large park of containers, was almost incognito at the appropriate place where a meeting could go practically unsuspected. The driver was standing in front of the car, talking to the girl. The two young men were locked in the car, unable to leave or hear the conversation, but could see that there was some conflict between them.

Another black car approached and stopped right in front of the first one. A large man with the shaved head, wearing a tight black t-shirt evidencing the muscles of his arms and torso came out of it. It was the character that was missing and that they had seen before on several other occasions.

The man exchanged a few words with his colleagues and came toward the other car, where the two boys were locked in.

- Who are you, anyway? Any terrorist group or is it part of a crazy sect? What do you want from us?

The boy wearing glasses was impatient and angry. That story seemed to be going too far and, up to that moment, completely beyond their understanding. His friend, who was still quiet, feared for their lives, but did not comment anything at all. He waited for the man with shaved head, who seemed to be their leader, to speak.

- This is not a crazy sect. We are trained soldiers just like you.

- Soldiers? Trained soldiers for battle? A war?

It was the girl who replied.

- Not exactly. More on the contrary... to prevent one...

- What war?

- A stupid and silent war: the self-destruction of mankind...

- That's crazy! And why are we involved in it, anyway?

- Our presence was never supposed to be noticed. We thought we were being unsuspected until you followed us the first time. Interference of any kind could jeopardize the success of what we had to do... and this could have very serious consequences in the future.

- In the future? This conversation is totally meaningless. You cannot be taken seriously. This is insane.

The young man wearing glasses thought he was dealing with a group of fundamentalists, in which a strange brainwashing was given, making them dangerous and fearless terrorists, with homicidal and probably also suicidal dispositions.

- And you were sent by whom, for God's sake?

- The correct question is not 'by whom?' More properly, it should be: 'from where?'... Or perhaps, even better, 'from when?'...

The two young soldiers looked at each other.

- We came from the future. Our mission is to prevent the uncontrolled overpopulation before it is too late.

The soldier tried to keep calm, knowing that those people were completely demented and, to make matters worse, they believed what they were saying. He, however, had to ask a question, which seemed crucial at the time.

- And how will you do it?

- Using a more effective and permanent contraception method. In fact, the objective is to sterilize more than sixty percent of mankind.

- But that's crazy! How can it be humanly possible?

- This is only a preventive measure, like so many others that have happened in the history. People do not realize that the objective is much deeper. Sterilization is only part of the plan and is for the greater good.

- Castrate more than half the population is a greater good? Don’t you think you are being too radical and senseless?

- Not really! In the future we are devoid of a number of weaknesses that people of this time have and that are considered risky behaviours. This action is necessary for the science to advance. No one will notice anything, because the effect is not obvious. Until scientists reckon that humanity was somehow poisoned, it will take a while. When those responsible realize, it will be almost too late. The Earth aged and barren population will lead to a radical drop in its growth. Science will have to rush with control actions to curb the inevitable decline of the human race. Cloning is the only way out... and the necessary evil... We have already planted a tiny seed in the minds of the researchers of a certain laboratory, using money to be invested in biotechnology. We need to be taken seriously and to a lesser term, to help us help the future...

- We ourselves have been produced in a controlled series, with the best genetic material, scientifically engineered to be fault-free and physically invulnerable by the same laboratory. We are marked with bar codes instead of names. In our case, we have a mission to accomplish and a predefined lifetime. None of us has existed for over a year, unless...

The man with the shaved head directed a very meaningful glare at her. She still looked at the 'driver' who, until then, remained silent, but she could not finish the sentence.

One of the young soldiers did not realize the subtlety of what happened at that time. Although still in doubt, he was more concerned to explore all the possibilities and try to understand the story. Were those people really sent soldiers from the future? The speech was, in a way, quite credible, although extremely fantastic.

- And the rest of the planet will continue untouched? What will happen in the future with the animals, plants, the sea and all this beauty?

- Nothing like those will exist any longer, if we leave things as they are. The uncontrolled growth in population will result in a very serious problem, with exponential effects and a lack of sustainability, which will lead to a consequent global crisis. Hunger will create chaos and despair. Consequently, the destruction will also be exponential. Even the money and riches will have no value, since there will be nothing much to buy and the production will be inadequate to meet all needs. That is why we were sent to take urgent action before it was too late. Indeed, it is already quite late and the lab itself is in great danger...

- The process, now, however, has already started. There is no time to undo it. It is impossible to go back...

- Already? In what way?

- In many parts of the world, our soldiers have followed the orders received, exactly, triggering one calculatedly efficient and effective process. The effects of this will be perceived too late. There will be no way to reverse what has been unleashed in the recent days. Our mission here is complete. Now we just have to go back to the time where we came from.

- So why did you bring us here?

- To prevent your interference would spread the panic around. When you began to follow us, we were afraid that you would put the operation at risk. When we parted, we created a necessary distraction and ensured that the plan would still go on, without any interference.

- But we can boycott this plan. This can still go very wrong...

- Do you think you have a chance? You will not even know where to start. You don’t know the procedure or what have been started. If you want to denounce us, as if that were even possible, what evidence would you have to show? You will be taken as crazy or drug addicts. Everything will sound like a distant dream or any schizophrenic hallucination... Moreover, we will no longer be around here... 

The shaved-headed man looked at the other man and stopped talking.

The boy wearing glasses soon realized that there was a subliminal message in that break, but did not ask anything. What could this man, seemingly harmless, have, that nagged these people?

***

- We have to go back. We have very little time now.

A phone rang. The man answered, frowning.

- But that was not in the plans!

A rather altered voice was heard on the other end. The man was silent, listened and finally relented.

- OK. So will be!

When he switched it off, he walked silently to the car and came back within a few seconds with an automatic gun in his hand. The soldiers realized that is was fitted with a silencer...

Before anyone could even express any reaction, he pointed the gun and fired without hesitation, to the surprise of everyone.

The young woman fell, with a bullet hole in her head, and a broad line of blood dripping like a thick red stream on the grass.

The man then turned around and pointed to the driver, pressing the trigger again.

The driver, in an unexpected and desperate gesture, threw himself against the other man and the two began a strange fight. The two young soldiers joined immediately to help immobilize the killer, knocking him to the ground.

In the confusion, as always happens when you dispute the possession of a loaded gun, there was the sound of a muffled shot. And then, the group stopped fighting...

***

The driver, who had been injured seconds before starting the fight, lay on his back, unconscious, with part of his head covered with blood, a little behind the two young men. The man with shaven head, who had triggered the weapon against his own body during the fight, had a dark and wet stain spreading in the middle of his chest and tinting the ground red, almost next to the body of the murdered girl. The gun was still in his hand and his finger still on the trigger...

The two young soldiers got up and started walking quickly toward the black van. The driver moved as they passed by him. He rubbed his head and moaned, touching the still bleeding wound. The two soldiers got down and without much thought, carried him away with them to the car in which they were before, tucking him in the back seat and leaving at high speed.

***

The sea was calm, as if all the storms of all times, had gone for once and as if the waves and the movement of water were only the chords of a soft lullaby or a repetitive and soothing mantra.

The three men were standing side by side, each with their own thoughts, watching the sea and a few people passing by, without realizing what was happening behind the scenes of life and that could put them in serious danger. The young man wearing glasses broke the silence.

- We have not decided what we will do with the information we were given...

- We will not do anything. That cannot be taken seriously. It was crazy... We will never know the truth...

The two young soldiers looked at the other man, who remained impassive, without any reaction to what they have just said. His life was saved by the two and he owed them more than a simple thank you. The man took a deep breath as if his intention was to absorb the iodine and salty air from the ocean one last time. He closed his eyes for a moment, then spoke quietly.

- We have avoided talking about this for a long time...

- Maybe it's more than time to talk even.

- There is not much else to talk about. I don’t remember much before the incident... accident... whatever it was...

- Great! What a beautiful story! And we will never be able to confirm anything, after all.

- I remember taking part in a very hard military training... and to have been sent before this group of soldiers... I recall having poured the drug in the water supplies... then everything else is blurry and confusing...

- The drug in the water? Was it the method used to sterilize the population? That’s madness...

- It was necessary. That's what we were sent here for. The laboratory was under pressure and the invasion was imminent... Funny I do not remember anything before the training... as if it had never happened...

- Or as if it had been erased from your memory... for some reason...

The man stopped talking and closed his eyes again, leaning on the metal guard rail at the beach front with his head hanging down.

The two soldiers did not know what to think, say or do... Those memory fragments absurdly told a compelling and, at the same time, misplaced story, but it made no connection with any kind of reality whatsoever.

Military training, secret labs, time travellers... what sense could they make in the end?

If the story was real and actually happened, it was lost in the reminiscences of a wounded soldier with memory problems. And how would they know what to do?

***

- I don’t understand. If the soldiers never came back and everything that happened was not even a mass delusion, how will the scientists know whether the plan worked or not?

- The explanation is very simple. If we change the past, there won’t be the same future that led us back to it... For all practical purposes, in fact, they never existed anyway... They could not go back to a future that will no longer exist... at least not the way they saw or lived in!

- And as scary as it may seem, we will never know if the plan worked, because we will never get to that future... It's a dead end!

- Oh my God! This is madness!

The young man took his glasses off and ran his hands over his face, looking completely confused.

A man approached and asked if they had matches to light his cigarette. They said they didn’t and the stranger thanked and kept walking without looking back. He ran his fingers through his hair and straightened his coat collar…

…It was not quick enough however to hide the small tattoo he had on the back of his neck depicting a barcode...

The Barcode (Part 1)

- How did he get into our photo, like this, out of the blue?

- I don’t know. He must have been sitting there for a while... but we never noticed it...

- What's that mark over there, on the back of his head?

- It looks like a tattoo... Zoom it, please... I think it's a barcode!

- Ugh!!! What kind of people would do that? I’m not saying that’s not original... but he looks more like a soldier or a scientific experiment, than a normal man. A bar code is not a beautiful picture anyway to be tattooed on someone’s head...

- He is pretty scary, actually and not the type you want to meet when you are alone in a dark alley...

- He’s not that scary, I think... or is he?

They both laughed. They had been scrutinizing the details of a "selfie” just taken on the terrace of the Café, where they were relaxing for a while. A stranger was clearly seen in the background for their own surprise. He was a big man, with shiny shaved head and was sitting half back to them. A weird tattoo was engraved on the back of his head, almost where the neck began. A black T-shirt, tightly fit to the body and arms, evidenced hard muscles worked out for long hours in the gym and weight lifting or perhaps even military training. The skin was very tanned, but in a natural and permanent way, as of a person living in the tropics, used to the outdoor life and the effects of many hours of skin exposure to the sun.

An uneasy feeling went through the minds of the two friends, who slowly turned around, without saying anything. The place where the stranger was, however, was already empty and there was no one around with similar-looking, to their frustration.

- I had a bad feeling.

- Weird. Me too…

***

- Let’s go to the public marketplace. I’d love to have something nicer to eat and drink.

- It smells like fish. And there’s too many people...

- Stop being fussy and let’s move. There’s also a lot of people here on the boardwalk and you don’t complain. I don’t like to stay so long in the sun and I'm making you company anyway. I would rather sit on a bench, underneath the fig tree and see the passers-by or go to some cooler place, like those corridors in the Marketplace...

The Public Marketplace was an old building that had been restored to have some modern features introduced, but keeping the original architectural pattern of over two centuries ago. The last reconstruction had rescued both the style and the initial colors standard.

The moss-green Roman arched doors and windows contrasted harmoniously with the yellow walls of the building. The very high ceilings kept the building cool and pleasant throughout the warm season, without the need of air conditioning.

Two separate structures, the north and the south wings, were connected by Roman arches on the extremities, with one lookout tower on each extremity and, in the central part, there was a little square that housed the terraces of a food court, frequented both by locals and tourists.

Open corridors ran over the heads of passers-by, facing the inside of the small square. Stair accesses, one on each side, at the entrance and exit, completed the harmonious and simple frame, but with a strong presence in the old city center.

At the time when it had been built, the south wing was closer to the port, to facilitate the unloading and avoid unnecessary expenses on transportation of various goods and the fish that came fresh from the open seas, in numerous fishing boats of the island's companies. It was the place where the best, most abundant and fresher fish was sold. 

Later on, the bay was dredged up and the sand taken from the bottom of the channel filled part of the area where the quay was initially, causing the need of the docks to be moved to the other side. The building of the marketplace, however, remained in its original place, with its traditional trade, tailored to the needs of the local people, tourists and merchants.

The two entered the south wing, which still held the trade of fish and seafood, but had also evolved to a series of 'boxes', closer to the entrance, where they served typical and traditional dishes of the island. They ate some crab and shrimp fried balls, the local delicacies, while sipping a cold draught beer and watched the passers-by coming and going with their loud talk, trying to make themselves understood in the midst of a Babel of strange and familiar accents.

At the other end, the 'boxes' were in a frenzy trade and the scent of fresh fish, because of the wind, came towards them.

- I said this place stank...

- Of course. This is the fish marketplace after all...

A young woman dressed in very dark clothes walked in with quick steps. She had very black and shiny hair arranged in a braid that fell down along her back, leaving the white skin of her neck at sight.

For a second, the boy wearing glasses had the impression he saw a small mark on the back of her neck, on the base of her braided hair, as he watched the woman haste up and disappear through the center exit door which led to the north wing. The young man looked at his friend with a strange expression and an unexpected paleness to his face.

- What is it? It looks like you're going to pass out... You all right?

- I think the bar code tattoos are in fashion around here…

- What? This is nonsense...

- I think I saw someone else with the same kind of marking... Come with me... I want to be sure of something...

The two rose and went toward the exit. 

Someone pushed them briskly to the side, moving quickly ahead and without apologizing. It was a big, muscular man with a shaved head, dressed in a black t-shirt. Behind the head, on top of the neck, there was a small tattoo, depicting a bar code.

- Let's go!

The two followed the man with quick steps. That could not be a mere coincidence. At the other end, amongst the passersby who walked lighthearted, a dark-haired woman with a long braid, also dressed in black, walked very fast, without looking back. The man was very close to her and somewhat away from the two, at that time.

The two boys walked forward when she turned left, after passing the arch over the east entrance, with the shaved head man following her very closely.

They turned left when they reached the portal, but could not see the two characters they were chasing without even knowing why, amid the people walking up and down the busy streets. They looked around, but did not see that man or the woman. They ran up the street behind the Customs building, but no one who looked like them walked with fast or slow steps...

They had simply disappeared in the midsummer afternoon buzz.

The two young men finally gave up and went on, without even talking, following the striders who walked around and ahead over the cobblestone mosaics of the boardwalk floor.

A street musician played an old guitar and sang a known song to a tiny audience.

Behind the Venetian door of the lookout tower entrance of the public market, a big man with tanned skin, kept a hand covering tightly the mouth of a girl with black hair and pale skin. The other arm held her fragile body very firmly, preventing her from moving... 

On the outside, life was going on still and normal with tourists and locals walking by, oblivious to what was happening behind the venetian blinds of the green painted door...

A Pride of Lions - An Adventure in the Bush

The Reserve open top truck stopped in the middle of the open savannah in the twilight of a mild November Tuesday. As the afternoon light turned slowly down to dusk the most daring wild animals started coming round for their daily hunting routine.

A little black-backed jackal was the first one coming closer to the truck and we just kept silent as the animal approached quietly, almost curiously. That was normal practice in the bush: to be as quiet as possible, so to allow the local fauna to live their own lives as near to normality as possible, without any human interference. To my surprise, the canid was smaller than I thought it would be, from my admitted poor knowledge taken from reading encyclopaedias or watching the Natural Science channel on TV. It was alone or so it seemed to us. I thought they hunted in packs, so I assumed that one was the leader and it was ahead of the group, so to signalize with a characteristic yelp when sighting signs of prey.

A sudden click followed by an indistinct sequence of short sentences in the ranger handheld transceiver scared the shy jackal away. A message was coming through. From our part, we had to make a good effort to try and apprehend the meaning of the radio communication exchanged. For a moment it seemed to me I was playing a role in one of those American films where the park rangers had a radio conversation between them and no one around would understand a word.

Not so many hours before, we parked the white Volkswagen Jetta by one of the rustic huts at the Nature Reserve situated almost at the borderline between South Africa and Botswana. It was a long drive from Johannesburg to the Reserve, but we were on holidays, anyway. Two couples travelling together and staying for a week in the bush, seeking a little rest and some contact with the nature. That was what we were. While we unpacked the trunk full of groceries and bags, we heard peculiar noises around the cabin where we were going to stay for about a week.

- Baboons, the host said. Careful with them, as they can easily attack you in search of food in the house. Lock the doors and windows, or else... well, you know...

We exchanged funny looks, trying to hide our concerns. The sentence did not really need to be completed. We certainly knew the consequences, from previous occasional advices.

It was early still, but we noticed the closer it got to the end of the day, the wilder and louder the noises became.

It was tradition to leave the lodge on a game drive by the end of the afternoon when the sun was sliding down the sky and the air was thus becoming fresher. When the daylight was waning, the wildlife would naturally be more effusive. The reason was that with lower temperatures and less light, the heat of the animals looking for food would go up. The preys would eventually go out of their hidings and so would the predators.

Large groups of springboks, gazelles, zebras and wildebeests, small families of giraffes and warthogs, heavy herds of buffalos and wild elephants had been spotted in some of our previous visits to the reserves.

In some instances we had experienced unusual encounters with wild animals in the country bush environment. South African wildlife is always very rich and vivid. Once in the wild, people are supposed to respect the animals, being in silence and staying away from their way, so they can live their lives in safety and as normal as possible. Most of them are used to the presence of cars and trucks stopped on specific sighting spots or the roads in the parks. People are advised and warned not to open their windows or doors or walk out in the bush, as wild animals are natural hunters and humans can be easy preys to lions, hyenas, baboons or any other hungry animal... Although most of the animals do not attack vehicles, baboons are always travelling in groups and use to jump onto or sit on top of them and try to find their way in. If they come inside, trouble is certainly one of the sad consequences, as they usually bite, scratch and might even kill, if opportunity allows it...

On one of the occasions, we had to drive away from an infuriated elephant which thought we were on the way threatening the safety of its family, mainly the very young ones. The larger member of the Big Five - a group of animals in danger of extinction - stopped in the middle of the road, turned to us and flapped its big ears, signalling that we should move away immediately. We were overwhelmed. As it did not see any reaction from us, it rushed against the car in order to eliminate the menace away from the group it was leading. It was then we learned elephants can be very dangerous if they feel their safety is being put in danger. They do not have natural enemies, as no other wild animal is strong enough to win a fight against them. Being big in the bush has its advantages. Men, however, are the only “animals” who would hunt them and could endanger the species.

Another click brought our attention back to the radio resting on top of the panel. The other rangers we had met some minutes before in the middle of the bush were asking assistance to follow a pride of lions they wanted to monitor the migration route in the park.

The truck made its way through the middle of the dry vegetation and we had to duck many times when it passed through the sharp thorns of the bushes. The driver, a ranger in his mid-thirties, with pale freckled skin and blond-ginger hair, seemed excited to help in spite of the bad mood his young wife at his side on the front seat expressed for the long time being waiting for him in the savannah late afternoon. Sitting on the back seats, two couples of young tourists, eager for a nice time in the South African bush and the taste for some mild adventure, become suddenly thrilled.

While we were on our way to the meeting spot, the radio kept on clicking and incomprehensible messages were exchanged between the group of rangers and our host. When we reached the clearing, there was an obvious excitement in the air. Although the tone of voice was very low, they were exhilarating.

A recently dead young ‘springbok‘ was bleeding in the fork of an almost dry tree. We could hear the sound of lions around us, attracted by the smell of fresh blood. The lights were out and dope loaded hunting rifles were directed to the tree bait.

There was a heavy silence in the air, but the atmosphere was a mix of expectancy and curiosity...

I was almost holding my breath, trying not to be the one who would give our position away to the beasts. We had to stand against the wind, so the pride could not detect our presence in the dark. The huge savage cats roared around. They were not surely only two or three.

We did not really feel in danger, as there were many weapons pointed around, but I kept myself very quiet sitting on the truck back seat. Two of the lions reached the dead gazelle but we waited for more to come. They were trying to drag the buck off of the tree fork.

A shot targeted to a large and strong female made her fall immediately, scaring the other animal away. The lioness still fought a bit, trying to move but the dope was strong and although a bit stubborn, the beast was rendered.

We immediately jumped out of the lorry and came around. The sound of the other lions roaring close to us made my spine chill. The vehicle lights were on now. One of the rangers told us not to touch the animal with bare hands, as they could carry too many unknown diseases. Rubber gloves were distributed so people could pat the sleeping animal.

I refrained from doing so, staying at the back of the group. I was definitely inappropriately dressed for a hunt. Besides the grey Bermuda shorts and a pale green t-shirt, I was wearing rubber soled flip-flops and, fortunately, a navy-blue nylon jacket.

The night was becoming colder and I longed for fire to heat me up a bit, but that would have to wait for long, I supposed. I did not pronounce my secret wish; just kept on looking at the people in silent curiosity and awe. There was a very sharp and long thorn coming up the rubber sole of my flip flops through the middle of my toes but I did not react, nor moved, nor talked. I slowly took it off and put the improper beach sandal back down underneath my right foot, without a word.

We heard the sound of the other savage creatures coming closer to where we were, roaring loudly, to announce their presence around us. Powerful flash lights were lit so we could stay safer for a moment and would have the lioness rolled over a large rectangular piece of canvas. Six men were needed to lift the enormous female up to the back of one of the trucks.

As soon as it was placed on, we heard a second shot. One of the guys put a young male down with a straight shot and we all held our breaths before we could run closer to the animal. The dart was still on its back leg when the strength left the huge feline and it slowly fell down on its side. It was approximately three years old and weighed more than two-hundred kilograms, said one of the men. That was indeed a nice strong male lion, an exceptionally beautiful specimen, although still smooth and without the sign of a mane around his head. That one male was more difficult to be placed on the truck where the other female was already.

Time passed by very quickly in the excitement of the night. Lights went out again as we heard the proximity of more members of the “panthera leo” family and they were not just but a few. We were back on the truck, a little safer and away from where the already torn bleeding gazelle was placed. When three more young lions were down, the others went away, not without protesting. The growls of the beasts were still too close to make us feel safe in the middle of the bush at that time of the evening.

The first two lions were carried out to another point in a smaller truck, where a group of rangers was already awaiting with their own paraphernalia, ready to take blood samples to be analyzed and categorized. We were left four of them to pack and take them later to the meeting point where they all were by then.

- Can you join in and help us with the other animals? We will need all the aid we can get, but you are free to say no if you do not feel comfortable in doing so. It is your call.

The ranger was serious. It was not a plea, but I knew he would not invite me if they did not have all that need of human force to assist them move the lions.

- Of course I help... I said, trying to be as casual as possible and hide my own excitement.

Greg, a friend of ours – who came with us from Johannesburg -was smaller and leaner than me and said yes. I would never say no. Besides that, I was thrilled enough to take my part in that play.

We were not in number enough to manage the situation without help anyway. The girls were sent back to the lodge. We did not want to put them in danger and we intended to be brief and go back as early as possible to have a well deserved supper with them.

Six men moving lions from the dusty ground to the trucks in a piece of canvas was not the only task we had to carry out. The more difficult part was to place them up into the dumping bed.

One by one, four young lions were placed on the open trunk, but our muscles started showing signs of stress as time went by. The last one was definitely harder to lift but we managed to put it lying perpendicular to the other three ones. There would be no place for us to be but in the back where the lions were already laying. When we climbed on the truck, the only places left for me and two of the guys were standing with our feet almost underneath the drowsy beasts. The last one had the mouth placed very close to by ankles and we could smell its bad breath from where we were standing.

The truck went ahead in the middle of the bush not respecting anything. Time definitely urged. The roads were practically inexistent and the lorry had to make its own to reach the path closer to the electric fence. We had to be as quick as we could and the driver was aware of the urgency of the situation. We did not know how much longer we could keep the animals put to sleep still cataleptic. When we reached the dusty road we felt a bump on the back.

One of the tires went flat. We jumped off as hastily as a flashing lightning. To my sense of time, it was the quickest change of tires I had ever experienced in my life. The guys did not have time to spend and we could be putting ourselves in danger. My ears were attentive to any movement or sound around us. We knew we might have been followed by wild angry lions in search of their feline buddies. We were no hunters, but they did not know that. We were humans and were keeping the members of their family as hostages, thus we were nothing more than natural enemies.

One of the guys pulled my arm when he saw me coming closer to the electric fence.

- Careful, he said. This can put a big man down.

I think he was trying to tell me I had no chance. I knew I was a small man compared to that huge South African man wearing the khaki ranger uniform and who was making me feel even smaller than I already was.

Back to the truck in about five minutes or so, we followed the sandy trail by the fence. The driver turned right again into the bush and drove hastily and carelessly to the middle of a clearing where he spotted some lights on. The night was fresh, moony and starred but those were undeniably artificial lights. I was afraid another tire would go flat, but that was not the overall fear in the group of men on board of that dark green lorry. I kind of felt a deep relief when I saw the lights ahead, where the other rangers were waiting for us. We were the last ones to arrive.

One lion was lying on the dry grass already. They were taking blood samples with what looked like a huge syringe and marking its back leg with hot iron, the way they use to do with cattle in a farm. The beast moved a bit and one of the guys ran to bring another injection of dope to keep the group at safe. How long it was there it was not really important, but we knew that we had to be quick. I was given a pair of rubber gloves by one of the veterinarian rangers.

Besides Greg, I was the other weakest ring of their chain. When we moved the first lion off the back of the truck I was told to hold its head firmly and aligned so not to let it break the neck if a sudden movement would make it fall to the side. I did not say no. Just took my position and embraced the huge heavy weighted head against my chest.

One by one the lions were carefully placed on the dry grass, one close to the other.

Next easy task for me was to rub a kind of ointment on the hot iron burned mark on the leg of the animals. The intention was to prevent infection and more unnecessary pain to the animals.

Greg had to be sitting on top of the “Daktari-like” van flashing the spotlight in all directions so to keep the wild animals off of the clearing where we were working at. We knew we could have been followed by the main pride.

Each lion was marked with a different symbol and two full syringes of blood were taken from their strong bodies. A nickname was given to each of them, noted in a pad, associated with the hot iron burned mark created by the rangers. I noticed two of them, a man and a girl, were veterinarians. After drenching the balm into the second back leg, my glove was torn, but I did no complain. Just knew I could not touch back any part of my body so to avoid any risk of infection. There was neither water nor food for us and I did not feel like peeing, so I was safe, for the moment.

One of the guys told Greg to keep the lights flashing around as he heard the sound of lions announcing they were coming closer. One of the animals growled and moved. My blood froze. We had to let it go. It was already marked and we had the blood samples stored. We’d better let it go.

I knew that time would come eventually but I expected we had it all set before the lions started waking up. That was not the case whatsoever. It started moving, trying to stand up in its still weak sluggish legs. But as I learned from cats, all felines are amazing animals; strong and persistent, they would never give up. The beast eventually got back on its four legs and looked at us.

The group was all alert, but the danger was imminent. I took a careful look around. There were no trees to climb up. All we had were the trucks and dry sharp thorn bushes. We had nowhere to run neither time enough to do so, if we were attacked.

A ranger climbed up on top of the van where Greg was holding the light with all his attention at the young male lion and quickly directed the strong beam to the animal eyes. The beast growled, stopped and then one of the guys shouted while another one shot the air to scare the lion, which protested, but did not move away. Maybe it was not strong enough and wanted to make us believe he was not as scared as we were. Maybe it was the real pride of the group – a leader of a sort.

The loud characteristic thud of the gunshot made the pride around the clearing react immediately. We heard the sound of roaring lions all around us and they did not seem to be pleased at all.

Our own beast was still staring at us, challenging the group of men to step ahead, as if we could or would dare. No one did. Neither did the big cat. Tension was heavy in the air when a second shot was heard and a third one soon after that. The beast objected with a snarl and turned around, running away from us to the opposite side into the dark night. It seemed the other members of the pride received the returning member with welcoming satisfaction as we heard the characteristic howls when it probably regrouped with the other ones.

By our feet we still had six lions almost waking up from an induced sleep. The burned marks on their members would not be welcome if they were sore by the time the wild animals woke up. We had to be quick.

Two more samples, hot iron cattle burning marks and some pad notes were taken on the last two young lions. The huge female which had taken the second shot of dope was still asleep in spite of the last dose being considerably smaller than the first one. Many attentive eyes were being kept around and I was quick to rub the ointment in the wounds. By that time the rubber glove was nothing but a faint version of the ones I got when we arrived at the clearing, but no one cared about it anyway.

One of the first lions which still drowsed on the dry vegetation was already moving its ear, breathing faster and slowly waking up. From our part, we started packing our things as quickly as possible. The flashlight was like police car lights flashing frantically all around the place. Greg was nervous... and so was everyone. Only the necessary instruments were still at hand when we finished the work on a most amazingly strong cat. Most of the guys were already ready to leave the spot when I put the protective balm onto the very last animal leg.

One by one the trucks left. We were last.

When I climbed the truck and took my seat on the back, it was long past midnight. I took a look around to where the lions were laying and saw the effect of the doping being over on most of them. The ranger said we should not wait any longer as the lights were not enough to keep the rest of pride away from the marked animals. That was evident when I looked ahead to the dark bush being illuminated by the truck lights and saw a pair of yellowish eyes flashing in our direction.

- Time to go, guys.

It was only then that I realized I was starving and feeling cold. The ranger came back to real life when I mentioned the simple facts of normal existence of mortals and said:

- We are going to be in big trouble for being so late and the girls are probably mad at us. They were supposed to have the supper prepared and be waiting for us a long time ago.

I have to confess that was not my first concern. I needed a bath, some clean clothes and a good hot meal. My stomach growled loudly. The truck was on the way to the lodge.

We were eager to tell the girls our adventures of the night and I imagined ourselves sitting around a campfire, eating a good coal roasted piece of meat and drinking some nice red and dry South African wine.

Little knew I that things were not as simple and straight forward as I wanted them to be. The girls had had their own adventure in the meantime.

When they arrived at the main house and dropped the hostess home, a wild elephant came too close to their truck and stopped at its back, impeding them to go backwards. For most of the people they are cute animals, but for those who had to run away from angry ones in the middle of the bush in another occasion, elephants were scary and violent contenders. Once they are angry, they would attack and step on anything they would find on their way. One would not want to stand on their path of destruction.

Afraid of the enormous danger standing behind the truck the girls had to wait in almost complete silence before they finally drove away to the hut. When the elephant was eventually gone, almost an hour had passed, but they were safe. With a sigh of relief, they headed to the bungalow where we were staying, some meters away from the main house. At that time of the night it would be dangerous to walk without someone to protect them, so they had to take the truck anyway.

Interesting fact was that no one in the house noticed the incident until they were told next morning.

A servant, who was designated to light the fire - so they could prepare the food on the ‘braai’ built on the outer area the hut, was patiently waiting for them to come. He lit the fire when they arrived and went away without saying many words. We learned some of them could not verbalize in English, so they would not try, particularly to strangers.

The meat was placed on the grill and not surprisingly the animals around immediately smelled the appealing scent of cooking meat. Monkeys started to get closer and making their presence be noticed by emitting loud scaring growls. Afraid of the attack of the wild monkeys, the girls ran inside the hut quarters. The meat was left unattended. The baboons made louder and wilder noises, as they came closer to the food. Feeling guilty for having lost a not started battle against the animals, in spite of their fear, the girls went out again, collected the still uncooked meat and locked themselves inside. Once in safety against the predators, they longed for us to be back in a little while, but that did not happen so soon.

By the time we arrived at the cottage, tired, worn out, starving and dirty, we were told there was no supper ready. They stated, with funny faces, the only thing we had to eat was bread and butter.

A bit disappointed, but not feeling strong or willing enough to complain, we decided to ask for details only after a good warm disinfecting shower and that was what we did. Showered and with clean clothes on I longed for a good hot meal but had to be satisfied with a roll of bread and butter, which was good enough for the time, but it was inadequate to the ones who expected at least some coal grilled meat.

It was the girls’ time to tell us what had happened that prevented them to wait for us with our evening meal ready. So, they told us all about their own incidental adventure.

We heard them with full attention, sometimes making comments, but feeling a bit guilty for not being there to support them. In the end and after some laughs, however, we realized that some bread rolls with simple butter spread on top was a very welcome meal at the end of the day anyway.

A proper “braai” would have to wait until the next day. At least the meat would have been marinated enough, thought I, on my way to bed, antecipating the taste of the meal and longing to tell them everything about our own adventure in the bush...