The Congo Affair chapter five ~ "A little bit of civilization"

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link to chapter 4: http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/261596.html

                                   


"Did you sleep all right chum?" Napoleon asked.

The blond raised his head, bleary-eyed. "Hardly," he replied, slowly lowering himself down to the ground from his hammock with a soft thud. "Excuse me while I go take a piss."

Napoleon called out to him as he disappeared into the brush." Do you think we can risk a fire, I really need some caffeine, and we need to put something in our stomachs."

They had garnered a supply of coffee during their last village raid, along with a small aluminum pot.

"I suggest a very small one," Illya said, reappearing as he zipped up his fly. He reached out to a large curled up leaf filled with water and used it to wash his hands.

"Do we have any food left, I am starving?"

"Tovarisch, you're always starving," Napoleon quipped, tossing him a couple of fruit was the last of their supplies along with the coffee.

Napoleon had a fire going in no time, setting the pot with the ground coffee beans in the bottom of it, and once it was boiled and the coffee made, he let it settle before pouring it into their aluminum cups.

They drank in silence, letting the brew help fill their hungry bellies and once done, they spread out their map, checking their approximate location and searching for the nearest village . Both of them knew they needed more food, otherwise they'd be too weak to make it to the border.

Wearily gathered their backpacks, they filled them with their treasured supplies. Napoleon led the way, with a pair of binoculars draped around his neck. According to the compass, they were heading South-Southwest, with the map indicating a possible village lying another 5 km or so away. He held  the map in his hands, studying it as he walked a surprisingly clear path and turned to say something to Illya just as the Russian yelled to him.

"Look out!'

It was too late, as Solo took his next step, landing into a small river, taking the map with him. The current was surprisingly strong and he grabbed a branch that was hanging down into the water. He grabbed it, but the map disappeared in the water as he held on.

Illya, tossing his backpack aside, waded out, grabbing Napoleon's hand, pulling him from the branch and up to dry land; the two of them lay there gasping for air on the shore line as the effort took a lot out of them. They remained there a few to recover, saying nothing amd hiked themselves up, continuing on their wearisome trek.

The Russian was quieter than usual as he led the way this time, hacking at the vines with the machete, clearing a path for them as the once clear path was overgrown again. He'd stopped for a moment, stripping off his khaki shirt, down to his tee-shirt and even that was soaked with perspiration along with his blond hair being plastered down wet to his scalp.

Illya shook his head, hours later, seeing that his partner seemed as comfortable as a Russian bear in a blizzard, not breaking a sweat at all. He questioned that as being unfair.

"That's because I'm hot-blooded, unlike you," Solo replied matter of factly.

Illya pursed his lips, not responding as he continued to hack away with the thick brush.

"Valí otsjúda_ piss off," he mumbled under his breath in Russian.

"Ni figá sebé_ gosh...I heard that Mr. Kuryakin, and such language," Napoleon laughed.

"You want to hear language...I can give you language. Do not get me started Napoleon."

"My we are cranky today aren't we."

"Poshël ty!" Illya cursed, showing even more annoyance at his partner's flippant attitude. Normally such things wouldn't phase him in the least, but his very long fuse had become quite short.

His partner's testiness only made Napoleon feel like he wanted to laugh more, but he stopped himself, realizing after seeing how flushed and soaked with perspiration Illya was, it dawned on him that the Russian was suffering and took an empathetic tone with him. "I promise tovarisch, when we find civilization, you'll get the first shower, and I'll buy you a cold drink."

"I can hardly think that far into the future," Illya's voice seemed calmer now.

"This is crazy,"Solo said as he now had to cut through the jungle growth. "You would think they're be some sort of trail we could find to follow."

"There would have been had you not fallen into that river and lost our only map," Illya responded, that was the only thing dry about him.

"And who's fault was it that I fell into the river?"

"Fine that is right, it is always my fault, I am sorry. I did not see the precipice until it was too late. I did try to warn you."

"Fat lot of good it did."

"Napoleon, I apologize, did I not, though it really was not my doing. Besides, you should have watched where you were going." Kuryakin snapped at him.

The American stopped, holding his hand up to silence his partner. "Did you hear that...voices in that direction." He pointed to the right, waving Illya to follow. Both men drew their weapons from their shoulder holsters, not knowing what they'd find.

They'd stumbled upon a primitive dirt road cut through the forest, with a group of men walking along it, and from the looks of them...they were Simba as they were armed with a variety of rifles from American made, Russian, as well as others unidentifiable. Staying out of sight along the tree line, the agents ducked quickly when they'd heard the roar of an engine coming near.

They peeked out from behind a banana tree, with its large leaves, looking at one of the trucks as it passed and Napoleon could see a look of disappointment in his partner's normally deadpan face.

"What's wrong Illya?"

"The lorry that just went by...it was carrying Russian soldiers." He lowered his head, trying to hide his crestfallen expression.

"I know,"Solo said, "I understand." He quoted Flaubert, trying to help, 'Il ne faut pas toucher aux idoles: la dorure en reste aux mains_never touch your idols: the gilding will stick to your fingers."Who knows, maybe their presence here might help control some of the insanity?"

Illya looked at him, his blue eyes focusing hard on Napoleon's brown ones.

"Thank you for being the voice of reason. You are ever the optimist, are you not?" He tried to smile, in spite of knowing his Russian compatriots were here to stir things up in favor of the Soviet Union.

"Hey, I do my best partner, and I know I can be a bit of a jerk at times...sorry."

After the convoy and Simba had long disappeared down the road, Napoleon and Illya continued on their course, slow going while they still following the road while staying hidden the trees, and in hopes it would lead them to civilization. The day was long and it began to rain again, and still no village in sight.

They made camp before sundown, with no fire again and no food. The only thing to barely assuage their hunger was water. This time they set up their hammocks together high above the ground, draping a piece of canvas over them to try and make their nights sleep just a little more comfortable, if that was at all possible.

They were both bone-weary and knew neither of them were up to standing guard. The weather though uncomfortable at least offered them a modicum of protection as the odds were low of anyone being out and about in the ensuing downpours.

They quickly set up their hammocks, draping the canvas to cover themselves again, and soon as they were under it; they were both sound asleep, though it was not completely restful. An UNCLE agent never slept that soundly; their training just wouldn't permit it...

They woke to the morning sounds of the rainforest, but a sense of near panic drove them down from their hammocks, weapons drawn, as they both heard nearby voices.

Napoleon stood guard, as Illya broke camp, quickly storing their precious hammocks and the canvas.

They ducked low into the brush, listening carefully as the voices, speaking a native dialect, passed them by. Risking a peek, Napoleon looked out at them, seeing they were not soldiers or rebel from the looks of them, as they weren't carrying any firearms.

Solo signalled for his partner to follow after him, as they stayed at a distance behind the group of men, hoping they might lead them to a village.

Their instincts were right as they came to an opening in the forest, revealing a fair-sized kraal, a typical African village of huts, enclosed by a fence of thorn bushes.

Staying back among the safety of the trees; they watched as the villagers went on about their business and so far there was no sign of any military presence or the Simba.

If they played their cards right, they'd be able to sneak into the village and get more food and supplies. Illya had the idea of causing a distraction as there was a smaller kraal being used as an enclosure for the village cattle...if they were to escape, that would perhaps give a window of opportunity to get inside and get whatever they could and out without being seen.