Page 28 of Duty Preserved

Nobody argued with that.

I looked across the tent. Sarah sat at one of the far tables, her auburn hair catching the lamplight, talking with Alyson. She didn’t turn around. She hadn’t looked my way since we’d sat down.

Paris felt like a year ago.

The giraffe came in at dusk.

I was sitting alone at the edge of camp where the last cabin gave way to open ground, the chair tipped back against the wall. The light was draining out of the sky, and I was content to sit there and bask in the dwindling light.

It came from the east, moving through the scattered acacias with the slow, rocking gait that made it look like it was walking on the bottom of an ocean. Eighteen feet of animal, stepping through the scrub brush without bending a branch, its neck swaying with each stride. It stopped thirty meters from where I sat and turned its head to look at me with dark, heavy-lidded eyes.

“Pretty amazing, right?”

Sarah had come around the side of the cabin. She stood a few feet away with her arms crossed, her face turned toward the giraffe.

“You mean that long-necked cow?”

It got a giggle out of her. “Yes, but I think it’s called a giraffe.”

She leaned against the cabin wall. The giraffe lowered its head, tore a mouthful of leaves from a low branch, and raised it again, chewing slowly.

“They come through camp a few times a week,” she said. “Mostly at dusk. The perimeter isn’t fenced, so the animals just wander in when they feel like it. I’ve had a zebra outside my cabin door at three in the morning.”

“That must have been something.”

“She was eating my laundry off the line. Specifically, my scrub top.” Sarah almost smiled. “I let her have it.”

“Then I guess we’re both down at least one shirt.”

She looked at me. The smile broke through all the way this time. “I really am sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. It’s more funny than anything.”

“It wasn’t funny at the time.”

“It’s funny now.”

The sky was going from amber to deep blue, and the giraffe stood dark against it, pulling at the branches like it had nowhere else to be. She was quiet for a moment, watching it.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

“Go ahead.” I stood, angling my body more toward hers.

“Why are you turning them into soldiers?”

I looked at her profile. She was still facing the giraffe.

“I saw you last night,” she said. “Coming out of the dark in that paint. And today, I watched you march them until they could barely stand and then work them the rest of the afternoon.” She paused. “I’ve worked with some of these men for a year. I know them. Zayn helps me with the animals before anyone else is awake. Baraka carried a lame baby impala two kilometers back to the vet facility on his own because he couldn’t stand to leave it. They’re good people.”

“They are.”

“Then why are you doing this to them?”

“I’m not doing anything to them. I’m giving them the skills to stay alive.”

“They’re not in a war.”

“They carry rifles, and they guard animals that men will kill for. They need to be ready for what that means.”