Another day, Margo wasn’t sure which one, storm rains lashed them. The river rose swiftly, flinging them from one muddy crest to another. Then ahead, just visible through slashing rain, a sight that brought a cry of terror: wildebeest. A whole herd was trying to cross the Limpopo, thousands–tens of thousands–of animals at a time. The river ahead was a solid carpet of swimming, drowning wildebeest.
”KOOT!”
He came to his feet, swearing. “Try to reach the bank!”
They fought the flood, cracking heavily against a submerged rock. PVC burst along one side of the raft. Then they spun off and bounded downstream again, headed slightly outward toward the far bank. Margo dug in her paddle until her back screamed for mercy — and kept paddling. If we hit that herd, we’re dead … . Closer, closer, they were going to make it…
The bank was infested with crocodiles.
”Keep going!” Koot lunged to his feet, rifle in hand, and braced with his legs wide apart.
KA-RUMP!
The rifle barked again and again. Crocodiles died or thrashed, wounded–on the muddy banks. Others flung themselves into the rain-lashed water or tore into wounded animals for a feast The bank neared, spun out of Margo’s view, came back around closer than before. They were going to make it … They would miss ….
The raft grounded, flinging Margo to her chest Koot leaped ashore, straining to hold the raft by one cable. Kynan jumped out beside him and snatched another slippery cable. Margo screamed “Look out!”
Koot let go, whirling and bringing up his heavy rifle. He fired once at the croc lunging toward Kynan. It slithered into the roaring whitewater and vanished.