“Look down there, Dad.”
Max pointed to a small herd of zebra galloping across the plain. Dust plumed behind them like the exhaust fumes from a racecar.
“I want to take a picture.”
Keith turned around and screamed. His son had somehow climbed onto the ropes above them. He was perched precariously on the edge of the wicker basket, gripping the ropes one-handed while he leaned out of the gondola with a camera in his other hand.
“Christ, Max. Get down! Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Still holding the camera, Max jumped back down. He gave Keith a disdainful look. “What? I was only taking a photograph.”
“You must never climb up like that, buddy. It’s incredibly dangerous.”
“No, it’s not.” Max pouted. Under his breath he added, “Katele does it all the time. He’s not afraid.”
Keith stiffened. Great. Just great. I go to all this trouble to have Max look up to me, and he’s still harping about Katele.
“If you really want a picture, buddy, ask me. Once we’re cruising, I’ll take it for you.”
“Really?” Max’s eyes lit up. “Okay, Dad, thanks! That would be terrific.”
Twenty minutes later, they’d finally drifted far enough for Max to make his move. They were almost seven hundred feet up now, hovering over the Gariep Dam. The vast concrete structure looked comically small beneath them, like a piece from Max’s LEGO set.
“That waterfall’s awesome. Can we take a picture of that?”
“Sure.”
There was no need to climb up onto the edge of the gondola. You could get a great shot of the dam from inside the basket. But Max had thrown down the gauntlet with his Katele comment.
He wants courage? I’ll show him courage.
Looping Max’s camera around his neck, Keith got a tentative foothold on the aluminum framing.
“Now remember, son, you must never try this yourself. It’s dangerous, and it’s only for adults. Okay?”
“Sure, Dad.”
Another step. Keith reached for the rope above his head, but it was hard to get a grip. His palm was slick and clammy with sweat. Jesus Christ, we’re high up. The wind blew through his thin hair and he felt the bile beginning to rise in his throat. He pulled himself up till he was perched on the edge, the way that Max had been, except that Keith had both feet on the gondola and both hands wrapped for dear life around the ropes. Physical terror coursed through his body. He felt dizzy and began to sway. I must be out of my mind.
“That’s perfect, Dad! Now get the picture!”
To take the photograph, Keith would have to let go of one of the ropes. He began to uncurl his fingers, and immediately felt his balance slipping. Oh God.
“Come on, Dad! What are you waiting for?”
“I…just give me a second, buddy, okay?”
Max’s mind was racing. He estimated that Keith weighed about a hundred and sixty pounds. Roughly a hundred pounds more than he, Max, weighed. If he didn’t let go of one of those ropes, would Max have the strength to push him over the edge? What if he tried and failed?
“We’re moving faster, Dad. Soon we’ll be past it. You’re gonna miss your chance.”
Keith tried to remember when he’d last felt so frightened. The day that Eve had threatened to leave him, to run off with that actor she’d been seeing. Rory. Back then he’d screwed his courage to the sticking point. He’d done what had to be done.
Just do it! Take the damn picture and you can get down.
Keith let go of the second rope. Suddenly the wind seemed to be blowing violently, pushing them along at a frightening speed. He fumbled for the camera, but his hand was shaking so much he could barely locate the viewfinder.
Silently, Max started climbing up behind him.
Keith leaned forward. He thought the dam was in the frame but he couldn’t be sure. Everything was beginning to blur.
“Ground control to Webster balloon. Dr. Webster, do you copy?”
The crackle of the radio startled Keith so much he dropped the camera. He watched in horror as it spiraled silently into the abyss.
“Dr. Webster.” There was an urgency to Kurt’s voice. “Do you copy? Over. The wind speed is picking up. We need to get you boys down.”
Thank God, thought Keith.
Max barely managed to scramble back down into the gondola before his father turned around.
“Answer them. Tell them we copy, I’ll bring her down now.”
That night, in their tent, Keith tried to cheer Max up.
“Don’t look so crestfallen. I’ll buy you another camera.”
I don’t want another camera, you son of a bitch. I want your head on a plate to bring home to my mother.
Katele said: “Your son is an excellent shot, Dr. Webster. Are you sure he’s had no training?”
“Quite sure.”
Eve promised Keith that Max had never used his treasured gun. Keith had no reason to disbelieve her. But he had to agree with Katele. His son’s accuracy on their first hunting trip was quite extraordinary.
“Here, Dad. You try.”
Max handed Keith the pistol. They were lying in the long grass with Katele, stalking a young gazelle.
Keith demurred.
“Me? Oh, well, I…I’m not much of a shot.”
“Go on. It’s easy.” Max’s small boy’s fingers encased his father’s adult surgeon’s hands. “Hold it steady. That’s right. Now line up that groove at the top with the white marking between the eyes. See?”
Keith nodded nervously.
“Good. Now squeeze.”