Family: Life

By Carmen Capuano

One pair of primate conservationists desperate for a child. One perfect solution.

Primatologists Vlas and Barbara Lingorsky are fully aware of the importance of their work as research scientists in the Rwandan jungle. And of the danger it puts them in.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carmen Capuano Productions
• Release date: Jun 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9781916560000

Book preview

Family: Life

Based on the screenplay by Paul F. Gorlinsky

Carmen Capuano

Carmen Capuano Productions

Copyright © 2023 Carmen Capuano, Paul F. Gorlinsky

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

ISBN-13: 978-1-916560-00-0

Cover design by: Ruan Human

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Books By This Author

Prologue

She is lost in the wonder of him. Captivated by the fragility of his small bones, his tiny fingers with their perfect miniature nails which wrap themselves around hers and hold on tightly, as if they intend to never let go.

Sights and sounds all around fade into insignificance as she gazes down upon the infant. Positioned to feed, he lies next to her heart and it is the most right thing in the world. His place. Contentment washes over her like fine rain, seeping into every pore.

Nearby, there are other mothers with other babies. She can hear their chatter but she feels no need to join in. All she needs is her child in her arms. Safe. Secure. Loved.

She runs a hand over the infant, smoothing his hair, exhales deeply and lets herself relax into the feed.

But something is wrong. A sudden and unexpected rustling in the undergrowth, a cracking of twigs underfoot and a familiar scent carried on the wind, brings danger. She lifts a hand to the scar above her right eye, anxiously touches its long smooth surface.

Boom! A loud noise, sharp and deep like the cracking of thunder from the sky. But this noise comes not from the sky. It comes from the apes who walk on two legs! Alert immediately, she looks across the clearing to the large silverback who is leader of her troop.

Anxiety freezes every muscle of his face as he turns towards the noise, preparing to do battle to save his own. Fear thunders in her heart and turns the saliva in her mouth to a thick, bitter paste. Terrified, her group of gorillas flee deeper into the jungle.

It’s chaos. None of them who pass her - hands and feet pounding the bare earth, breath coming thick and fast - is the troop leader. He alone remains in the clearing.

She witnesses him charge the intruders without a thought to his own safety. Roaring and baring teeth, he takes on their challenge. But the apes who walk on two legs do not answer with teeth and roars. Their answer is more of the loud booms. The thunder that takes life. The troop leader falls to the ground. Terror propels her into action.

The mother gorilla grips her tiny baby tightly as she flees deeper into the jungle. Booms chase her but she is fast. She makes her escape.

Chapter 1

George ripped his hunter’s headphones off, lowered his gun and tore the poachers’ rifles out of their hands. Useless bastards. Neither of them had the grace or intelligence to look ashamed. By rights he ought to have shot the pair of clowns who had almost cost him his trophy, not just have disarmed them. He raised his own rifle again. Pointed it at them. Gun and eyes still trained on the two idiots, he spoke to his right-hand man.

Moe, if these clowns act up again, shoot ‘em and skin ‘em. He was rewarded by the nervous bobbing of the men’s Adam’s apples. George grinned. It was about time they learned who was boss around here. The jungle was no place for people who had no worth, no purpose. On second thoughts, don’t shoot them. It’s a waste of bullets. Use this instead. He lifted a huge machete, handed it to Moe.

Moe took the machete and turned it deliberately slowly in the sunlight, ensuring the light glinted blindingly off the sharp steel. He’s a tough bastard, George mused. Just as well we’re on the same team. Because if ever we weren’t… There was no sentimentality in business. Even less in hunting and poaching.

As if reading George’s thoughts, Moe grinned. More gold fillings than enamel, it was both a terrible and wondrous sight to behold. No one find your body for days, out here in the jungle, Moe told the other poachers.

George let that sink in. Right, you’ve been warned. Now on with business. Every minute they spent gossiping like old women, the rest of the gorilla troop was getting farther away. But not all was lost. Movement on the edge of his vision told him there was more than one prize to be had after all. He stepped into the clearing and grabbed hold of the young gorilla that had accidently been left behind by the others. Come on, you ugly little bastard.

Screaming in terror, it tried to wrap itself around a tree trunk. But one sharp kick on its hands from the steel toecaps of his boot, quickly persuaded it to give up its hold. He was careful to hurt but not wound the youngster. It wouldn’t do to damage the merchandise.

George dragged the gorilla towards him and began to deftly tie it up, ropes tight but not cutting into the flesh. Wealthy collectors with their private zoos didn’t like to see scars on their prized possessions. Unless of course they had inflicted them themselves. A badge of honor. See to the silverback, Moe, he called, without bothering to look round.

Sure, Boss. I’ll cut him up! Moe called back, approaching the fallen gorilla without fear, the machete held loosely in one hand. The stupid animal had tried to rush them, as if it thought itself more deadly than a gun. Well he’d showed it the truth of that! This was Moe’s jungle.

Just as he was about to raise the weapon, to sever head from torso and claim their victor’s spoils, the huge gorilla opened its eyes. And sat up.  Caught in its gaze, there was barely any time for Moe to reappraise the situation, which seemed suddenly and terrifyingly flipped on its head. A bizarre image came to him. His head atop a pole carried victoriously by the old gorilla, back to his troop; gold fillings flashing in the sunlight, his mouth gaping open.

Time seemed almost suspended. Adrenaline flooded his veins and Moe’s heart pounded in double-time - and yet the world seemed to be spinning in slow-motion, revealing itself to him frame by frame, like a black and white, old-time movie. Shoot him! he screamed at the other men. Shoot him! He didn’t like the new tremor that had appeared in his voice one little bit.

It was already too late for one of them, Moe knew. George was distracted with the young gorilla and Moe wouldn’t trust either of the other poachers to hit a stationary truck at two meters. Besides, George had already taken the rifles from them, he remembered belatedly. So either the silverback would die this day… or he would.

Vaguely, he was aware that bullets whizzed past him, but he couldn’t afford to risk his life on the chance that having somehow managed to reclaim their rifles, the bungling duo would fare any better with their accuracy this time. He lifted his machete and swung it with all his might.

Too much distance between him and the gorilla caused the blade to slice harmlessly through the air. And still the silverback charged. So close now that he could see the saliva trails between the yellowed fangs inside its gaping maw, Moe prepared to be torn limb from limb. He prayed to God to be merciful. To be taken before the brutal end.

He tensed himself for the first parting of flesh from bone. For excruciating death. So close he could smell the gorilla’s noxious breath, feel the breeze of its exhalation on his cheek, he hoped it would be over soon. He readied his soul for passage into the white light. To the resting place of his ancestors. But instead, he was batted aside as the gorilla turned and crashed its way back through the dense foliage. It was gone.

In shock, Moe took a moment to reassure himself that he was still alive and unharmed. He pulled himself to his feet. Exhaled in a whoosh. The silverback had made a wise choice. Moe would learn from this encounter not to take anything for granted ever again. Including the people who had his back.

Behind him, one of the clowns who’d hired him and George as guides was laughing. Moe charged towards him. The idiot didn’t even have the sense to realize the danger he was in.

Not funny. You want to see something funny? Not waiting for an answer, Moe shot his fist towards the man’s forehead. There was a sickening crunch and he dropped to the ground in an instant, barely conscious. He wasn’t laughing any more. Moe cast a glance at the other poacher, lest he got any ideas about helping out his friend. Moe needn’t have worried. The second poacher backed up, away from the confrontation.

Where’s your laughter now, funny man? Moe pulled back his foot and aimed it at the grounded joker’s ribs. This funny enough for you? The man howled, tried to bend himself around his fractured ribcage. Moe squatted next to him and lifted his head by the hair on his scalp. How about this? The machete glinted in the sun once more as he lifted it in an arc above the man’s neck. Or this?

Blood dripped down the poacher’s forehead. His eyes were wide. Please! I’m sorry! Please! I didn’t mean it.

Moe grinned slowly. That was more like it. Now he had the respect he deserved. He considered whether he ought to lop off the man’s head anyway, as a lesson to the other one. And to all future clients. But George would not be happy.

Enough, Moe! Let’s get going before company arrives, George said. There’s been too much gunfire for any nearby rangers not to have heard. Let’s go!

Moe relinquished his hold on the poacher. Spat thick saliva onto the ground. "You lucky. This time." He attached the machete to his belt and stepped theatrically aside for them to walk ahead of him.

The unwounded man helped the other to his feet and they followed George, already striding ahead. Moe followed close behind. All the better to chop them down if the urge took him.

At the front of the line, George moved as quickly as the weight of the young gorilla allowed. It was a fair hike back and he was anxious not be relieved of either his trophy or his freedom.

Philipe whistled to a song on the car radio as he drove. The beauty of his homeland never got old for him, but in particular, the magnificent scenery of Rwanda’s Volcanoes National Park lifted his very soul and made his heart ache in a good way.

Lush verdant mountains that hid dormant volcanoes seemed to reach beyond their actual peaks as if they themselves believed their rightful place was above all of mankind, looking down from afar. Here, it was almost possible to believe that humanity was no more than a tiny insignificance under the sky. That all that was perpetrated upon the natural world would be paid back tenfold.

He had grown up listening to tales about the volcanoes. The older generations believed that upon death, bad souls travelled to the boiling lava to burn there in eternal torment. Philipe kind of liked that idea. Payback. But the last eruption of Bisoke, one of the still active volcanoes, had been in his grandfather’s day.

If the myth were indeed true, the lava would have been free flowing ever since, brimming over with the toll of mankind’s atrocities against one another and the environment, Philipe thought sadly.

It was one of the reasons he’d chosen to be a guide rather than a ranger, like his father. As a guide, he witnessed the best of humanity. He led teams of conservationists and people who came to wonder at the beauty and majesty of this place. Who came in awe and admiration. People who shot pictures and not guns, people who understood and respected the delicate balance of life in this unique place.

If he’d had his father’s job, he would have seen only the flipside of humanity, the underbelly of the human nature. He would have hunted the men with guns who hunted the gentle mountain gorillas and rare golden monkeys. Blood begetting blood. Terror and hatred birthing more terror and revulsion.

Despite the warmth of the day, Philipe shuddered. It did not do good to think such dark thoughts. Ahead was the entrance to the Great Ape Survival Project base camp. He comforted himself that here he was among people who truly believed in the sanctity of the conservation area and the animals who lived there.

Seeing the GASP people always did his heart good. Besides, he was not averse to the charms of Barbara Lingorsky. The woman was easy on the eye and on the ears, with her smooth American accent and warm smile.

Maneuvering the 4x4 smoothly into the large parking area, he turned the engine off and took a moment to survey the camp. Normally the place was a hive of activity with people bustling around. Today it looked empty. 

As always, the various huts were so rickety they looked like they might fall apart at any moment. Barbara had assured him it was part of the charm of the place, but to Philipe they looked too similar to the buildings in shanty towns to resemble a proper research facility.

He hopped out of the vehicle and opened a rear door to remove a wooden box with the word URGENT! stamped in huge red letters on all sides. He’d driven here quickly but seeing as there didn’t seem to be anyone to greet him, he’d take a more leisurely stroll towards the lab, breathing in the ambiance of the place as he went.

It was a unique smell of old canvas, generator fumes and something else he couldn’t quite identify. Hope. Maybe that was what the smell was. It wasn’t any more fanciful a thought than the belief that what he was smelling was the pheromones of all the people who lived and worked there. 

Inside the lab building, Igor, too thin to resemble his Russian countrymen in any movie Philipe had ever seen, was squinting at a glass slide, narrow shoulders hunched over the microscope. He glanced up as Philipe entered then immediately returned to the examination of whatever was on the slide. Those the antibiotics? he asked. We’re running dangerously low.

Yes. May I? Philipe nodded towards a cooler filled with cans of soft drinks and placed the box on a work surface.

Sure, help yourself. Igor finished with the slide and began to unpack the wooden crate.

I love this Orange Crush! Philipe said between slurps. Do not get low on these, okay?

Igor smiled. You really do love that stuff. It’ll rot your teeth though, you know.

Perhaps. But a man has to have some enjoyment in life, no? Philipe grinned. So where is everyone?

They’re all out in the field, Igor said, not glancing up.

Philipe drained the can, crushed it and tossed it in the nearby bin. They’re not the only ones out there today.

Poachers? Both the fact that Igor looked up from the slide before he asked the question and his raised intonation gave away the fact that he was more than a little concerned. And rightly so.

Philipe nodded. Better let ‘em know. Who could say if a fatal shot was an accident or a murder, in the jungle? Wiser to be safe than sorry.

Shit! Igor reached for the microphone of the old radio set. Turned everything on with a quick efficiency. Hey guys, there are poachers about today. Get back as soon as you can... He smiled at the mic, deliberately trying to inject a more positive note into his voice. Philipe’s missing out on seeing Barb’s lovely… face.

The radio crackled with static and then Vlas’s voice came through loud and clear. Yeah, I bet. Nothing to do with my wife’s awesome… personality. Across the jungle clearing, Vlas looked over at Barbara in her tight-fitting jeans and t-shirt. She certainly wasn’t the sort of woman you’d expect to meet in the Rwandan jungle. But thanks for the warning. We’ll be heading back, soon as.

Vlas hooked the radio back on his belt and walked over to where Barbara was poking around in some ape scat on the ground. Even with the scar that underscored her right cheekbone, she was a stunning woman. And at twenty-one years his junior, she was a great catch. Hell, she was the catch.

Deep in contemplation of the feces, she didn’t hear him approach. How’s my toy-girl doing? he asked, making her jump.

Barbara laughed. I can’t be a toy girl any more. I’m thirty now. She pretended to think. "Maybe I can be your younger woman, instead?" She winked salaciously and grinned.

Julie stepped her ample frame out from behind a bush, startling them. "Consider yourself lucky, Barbara. No one’s ever called me a toy-girl, she said almost wistfully. You found anything interesting?"

Sorry, Julie, I didn’t see you there, Vlas said, before bending and whispering into his wife’s ear, And that’s a surprise in itself.

Barbara caught Vlas’s eye. Enough, her gaze seemed to say. You don’t want to get on the wrong side of that girl! But the crinkling at the corners of her eyes and mouth showed her amusement.

Vlas swallowed a half conceived joke. On a more serious note, we have to catch up with the others. I’ve just spoken to Igor. There are poachers about.

Right, let me just finish up here. Barbara moved quickly, packing up her kit and the samples she’d taken. Ready.

They wasted no time walking directly back to where they’d left Winnie supervising a batch of volunteers over from the US. This latest group were due to fly home soon and Vlas would be glad of the space, if not of the increased workload the permanent team would have to shoulder. Wealthy volunteers brought perks but sometimes it was too much like being a kindergarten teacher for his liking.

Vlas noticed that Winnie was tugging gently on his beard as he played back a video clip he’d taken. The expression on his usually smiling face was troubled. Hi guys. You need to come see this. I think- His words were drowned out by the sound of a gunshot, far too close. Vlas quickly scanned the group.

Everyone was unhurt but it was impossible to tell if the shot had been aimed at them or whether they were simply caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Get down! he shouted.

There was a long moment of silence where it seemed as if even the jungle quieted itself in anticipation of events. Vlas cautiously raised his head, looked back to where Barbara and the others were crouching, and finger to his lips, signaled for them to retreat.

Barbara didn’t move. It was typical of her. And one of the reasons he loved her so much. She believed in what they were doing heart and soul and believed in him in exactly the same measure. He signaled to her once more. Go with the others. Still she didn’t move.

He placed a hand over his heart. I’ll be broken if anything happens to you, he thought at her. She closed her eyes as if to prevent him seeing into her soul as she placed a hand over her own heart, her actions and sentiments echoing his. She too would be broken by the loss of him. Keeping her head down, she crawled away with the others. Vlas held his breath until she was out of sight.

Only Winnie remained with him. There was no point in telling Winnie to go, Vlas knew he’d be wasting his time. So since no more shots had been fired, he took a chance and stood up. Winnie copied him.

What do you think? Winnie whispered. 

Came from over there, Vlas said. I don’t think they were actually shooting at us.

So we pay them a quiet visit?

"We pay them a very quiet visit, Vlas agreed. Let’s just see if we can get an ID on them, something to report back to the rangers about."

Making as little noise or disturbance to the plants around them as they could, Vlas and Winnie headed in the direction from which the shot had come. Vlas knew that their actions were possibly not the most sensible he’d ever undertaken but it beat feeling helpless and powerless as poachers decimated the wildlife he’d spent his life trying to protect.

Almost silently, they crept forward. Breath pulled shallowly into lungs, exhaled just as quietly. If they could get a good look at the poachers, enough to be able to identify them, then maybe…

A large chunk of tree flew across his field of vision. For a moment Vlas stood as if stupefied. What had just happened? He raised his foot to take another step.

"Hold it