Friday 16 November 2012

Tribal Gathering by Kenneth Ryeland


Book Title:  Tribal Gathering

 
ISBN  9781458177865

Part of Series:  This book is one of several by the author dealing with the post-colonial African theme.  (The author’s website may be accessed here.  )

Author:  Kenneth Ryeland

Available at:  Smashwords 

Price:  $2.99

Number of words (approximately):  104592

Star Rating (of five):  4

Summary:  The book contains eight short stories, one of which, ‘Boom Town’ has been reviewed by us.  The stories are set in an imaginary West African republic, Nibana, which has been given independence by the British, and is undergoing the painful process of finding its own feet.  The problems of bribery, corruption and governmental incompetence are typical of almost every newly-independent African country.  The people described are typical of the peope in those countries.

Extract: 

- The police, having retrieved their Land-Rover from George’s driveway, loaded Idewu’s body and his smashed bicycle into the back of the vehicle and delivered him to the township morgue and the bicycle to the police station as evidence.

Baku prayed hard during the remaining hours of darkness and come the dawn he went home, his mind numb and his body weak from the sorrow and remorse that had descended upon him.

The police officers returned to the scene of the burglary the following morning and took statements from George Harlow and his night watch.  They then visited the steward’s quarters at the bottom of George’s compound, promptly arrested the steward and removed him to a cell at the police station; this being the normal procedure in Nibana of course. The police had worked out a long time ago that domestic burglaries, especially when a European’s house had been the target, invariably involved the steward.  It took only ten minutes of punching and kicking to get the steward to admit to his part in the crime and tell the police the name of the dead burglar. Several hours later the officers had to concede that the steward did not know Idewu’s address, but by then he had been permanently crippled.  The two police officers, having rendered their only source of information unable to speak, were inspired to do some real police work when they realised Idewu’s bicycle still had some of the manufacturer’s protective wrapping paper around the frame, thus confirming it to be quite new.

After visiting the only bicycle shop in Banda, they were able to trace the whereabouts of Idewu’s lodgings by cross-referencing the bicycle’s frame number with the warranty card Idewu had completed at the bicycle shop. When the officers realised the burglar’s address matched that of the Tuareg night watch who had killed him, they put their police logic to the test and, as usual, came up with the wrong conclusion.

The police arrived at Baku’s house while he slept. Being more than convinced of his guilt they did not bother to knock on the door, but smashed it down with sledgehammers and arrested him on the spot.

After several unpleasant hours at the police station, they charged Baku with the murder of one Idewu Kosae and being an accessory to burglary. The police were convinced that Baku had killed his ‘accomplice’ on the track because the thief would not share the stolen money with him.

Baku offered no defence; in fact he remained silent throughout his detention and, since he was unable to offer the police sufficient dash, the charges stuck. –

 

 

- When oil companies are faced with major difficulties that directly impinge on their ability to extract oil, they do what comes naturally to them. They throw money at the problems and, since they tend to have more money than anyone else and are in the happy position of being able to claw everything they spend, and more, back from the consumer with impunity, the problems soon fade into insignificance.

Within three months of the discovery of the first reserves of crude, the oil towns of Warunda and Sapula were being supplied with free electricity from two diesel-powered five-thousand-kilowatt generators. The machines had been shipped in from the United States in packing cases and assembled by American engineers right in the middle of the Warunda and Sapula Townships. With expatriate staff looking after the diesel engines and generating sets, there were no further problems regarding the power supply.

When the Nibana Water Corporation failed to keep up supplies, it too was effectively made redundant when the oil companies drilled their own wells and built a new water filtration and pumping plant. They had so much fresh, clean water they decided to supply both Warunda and Sapula Townships completely free of all charges. Of course these seemingly humanitarian actions by the oil companies deprived the ECN and the NWC of much-needed revenue. Consequently it did not take long for the power and water corporations’ bosses to complain to the Federal Government, accusing it, amongst many other things, of allowing the white man to re-colonise the delta area of Nibana.

After some secret discussions between the oil bosses and the power and water ministry’s permanent secretaries, the multinationals agreed to pay special ‘consultancy’ fees to the top men at the water and electricity corporations. Shortly afterwards everything went very quiet and there were no further suggestions of creeping neo-colonialism.

Along with the oilmen there came many other things to worry the populations of Warunda and Sapula. Prostitution thrived, and with it came the pimps and gangsters of all nationalities who descended on the towns like vultures. Gambling casinos, though strictly illegal in the rest of Nibana, opened up like daises in a lawn at sunrise. In the early days the local police chief tried to close them down, but when a brown envelope containing a ‘performance bonus’ started to arrive at police headquarters every month, the police chief lost interest in the casinos and they continued to provide their unique brand of entertainment unhindered by the police or the laws of Nibana. -

Reviewer’s Comments:

Structure:  The book is well-structured.  Although the stories are separate, there is a common theme, and the separate stories make it possible to dip into the book when one has a short reading time available.  The book is pleasant to read.

Content:  The several short stories cover a variety of topics, set in an imaginary West African republic.  The attitudes of politicians are described, the social conventions of the tribal people and the expatriate managers are explored, the economic, social and political drivers are described, all in an entertaining and instructive manner.

Reviewer’s Comments: 

I enjoyed each of the short stories in this compendium.  The situations and characters are very real to those who have lived in Africa, and the stories allow the reader to understand many things in a new way, whether one is an African or an expatriate.  The situations are clear expositions of ordinary events in Africa, not only of that time, but also now, and the handling of these situations is realistic and an accurate rendering of how things are.  Reviewing this book has given me a desire to read all of Kenneth Ryeland’s works.  I recommend this book to anyone who wants to learn more of the reasons why the situation in Africa is as it is, as well as to anyone who simply wants a good read.

Karin B

Hydrocarbon by Nicole Stuart


Book Title:  Hydrocarbon

ISBN  9781465869760


 

Author:  Nicole Stuart 
 

Available at:  Smashwords
 , Barnes and Noble  , Kobo  , Apple   , Diesel   , Baker-Taylor, Sony 

Price:  $4.99

Number of words (approximately):  77 114

Star Rating (of five):  Four

Summary:  Jeff meets Dianne, a chemical analyst, at a lake, and see how a fiberglass boat dissolves in the water.  They investigate and find that a bacterial infestation of the water has occurred.  The bacteria consume any form of hydrocarbon, threatening to destroy almost every modern product while generating masses of Carbon Dioxide gas that will precipitate an irreversible climate change.  They find a business partner with the imagination and power to support their campaign to eradicate the infestation, in the face of opposition from an extremist religious organization that sees it as an Act of God.

Extract: 

- They walked on, silent now, until they could see their car.  They angled off to approach the road some distance behind the car.  At first glance, all appeared to be clear.  Resisting the urge to go to the car immediately, they stayed in the shelter of the bushes, and watched for another minute. 

“Look over there, under that big tree to the right of the car!”  Dianne hissed very quietly, and pointed.  Jim looked where she indicated, and saw the shape of a man lying in the shadow of the tree.  They watched a few seconds longer, and saw how the man shifted his weight, lifting a hunting rifle to a more comfortable position.  Jim indicated to Dianne that they should withdraw a little.  They moved back into a depression, out of sight of the road.  He put his mouth close to her ear and whispered.

“They have set an ambush for us, and they’re armed!  We can’t take any chances.”  She nodded her agreement.  “I’ll go back up the road a short distance, and see if I can break into their car.  If I can, I’ll create a diversion.  If that man moves away, you can throw the container into my car and drive off.  I’ll meet you further down the road, out of sight of the men there!”  Dianne nodded again.  Jim fished the keys to his car out of his pocket, and handed them to her, then giving her a quick kiss, he crawled away to the left.

He encountered the road about three hundred yards further on, and quickly saw a car parked behind a bush.  It matched the description that Susan had given.  Jim memorised the registration number, and saw the fish symbol next to the back light.  ‘A reborn Christian!’ he thought.  He looked carefully around the area, but could see no one.  He crawled carefully closer, taking care not to make any sound, until he was across the road from the car.  Taking a chance, he lifted up, then sprinted silently across the road to the car.  There was no sound.  Looking inside the car, he saw that the keys were in the ignition switch.  He grinned to himself.  ‘They’re obviously amateurs’ he thought.  He eased the door open, and slid in, holding the door slightly ajar.  Gathering himself, he started the engine and reversed the car swiftly from its concealment.  When he was on the road, he engaged drive, and accelerated down the road.  When he reached the position where his car was parked, he swung the wheel to drive over the low bushes alongside the road, intending to give his car a wide clearance.  To his astonishment, two men jumped clear of the car as it hurtled down on them.  He corrected the steering and returned to the road, accelerating past his car.  The man who had been concealed under the tree jumped up and joined his companions as they ran after their car.  Jim drove around the sharp bend in the road, seeing that the road straightened and ran down a long slope.  Jim looked quickly around the car for a weight, finding a full six-pack of beer.  He picked that up, and saw that it held a bunch of papers down on the seat.  He braked quickly, slowing enough to exit the car, grabbed the bunch of papers, then jammed the six-pack on the accelerator pedal, keeping his foot pressed on the brake pedal.  He swung the door open and rolled out of the car as it speeded up.  The door slammed shut behind him as he hit the grass at the side of the road, rolling to absorb the energy of his forward motion.  He rolled into the bushes, and lay there in concealment as the three men came running past him, obviously hoping to catch the car as it turned into the hairpin bend at the bottom of the slope.  As soon as they were past, Jim lifted himself to his feet, and sprinted back up the slope, around the bend that had concealed him from the men.  He soon reached the place where he had parked the car, to find that Dianne was sitting in the driver’s seat, the can of water on the back seat floor.  Jim jumped in, and Dianne started the engine and raced down the road in the direction opposite to that the men had taken.  In the distance, they heard a dull thump that indicated that the other car had run off the road and hit something solid.

“That will keep them out of action for a while!” he said with satisfaction.

 

Reviewer’s Comments:

Structure:  As always, Nicole Stuart’s books are examples of how an eBook should be formatted – easy to read, smoothly flowing, and well-written with good use of language.

Content:  The hydrocarbon-eating bacteria in the book are based on a type of bacteria that actually existed in pre-historic times.  The amount of destruction that such bacteria could wreak in the modern world is almost beyond imagination.  The methods used by the characters to counter the threat are all scientifically possible, and the book turns the potential disaster into an opportunity, as do so many of Nicole Stuart’s characters.

Reviewer’s Comments:  Nicole Stuart does it again!  This is another of her books that demand your attention from the first page to the last, leaving you, at the end, with many questions and thoughts in your mind:  How would you react?

I thoroughly enjoyed this book and the people in it.

Karin B

The Bodies Out Back


Book Title:  The Bodies Out Back

ISBN  9781452352657

Part of Series:  No

Author:  Joseph E Wright

Available at:  Smashwords 
Price:  Free

Number of words (approximately):  71 056

Star Rating (of five):  4

Summary:  A young woman is enticed to take a lease on part of a luxury house, without meeting the owner.  When she does, she becomes involved in a round of murder and intrigue that keeps everyone guessing until the end.

Extract: 

- “Go back to his house and call Sylvester.” He told her his superior's home telephone number. “Tell him I've caught the killer. I know he'll want to bring him in himself. Go ahead, pick up that flashlight.”

“Can't you call?” she asked.

“I have something much more pressing. Go ahead, please.”

Phillis grabbed the flashlight, all the while keeping an eye on Pat, and started to walk toward the door, then stopped. “But, isn't there a policeman on duty in the back alley?” she asked Carl.

“There was. But we couldn't spare him any longer. Needed him for other duty. Hurry, and if you still think this suave gentleman is so great, you better pray he doesn't do anything stupid, like trying to make a run for it, because there's nothing I'd enjoy better tonight than to put a pound of lead into this pervert's guts. One move, Mr. Gay, and it'll be all over for you. Now, please get going, Phillis.”

She left the room and raced down the hallway to the stairs and took them as fast as she could, the beam from Pat's flashlight bobbing up and down in front of her on the carpeted steps. As she reached the last few steps before the first floor, she began to change her pace, moving as if in slow motion. She came to a stop as she entered the living room. She felt faint. Maybe, she thought, it was from running so fast. She swung the light in an arc around the room. The sheet-draped figures stood their ground and did not retreat from her. Would they attack? she wondered. Why was her head spinning so rapidly? She leaned against the archway between the living room and the short hall connecting with the dining room. Something, a sort of faint voice, was trying hard to tell her something. If only she could hear it. She continued now to walk toward the dining room, knowing only that she had to get help, had to contact Detective Sylvester. Carl had told her to do that and she had to do what Carl told her to do. She bumped into the table in the kitchen and hurt her thigh. The pain shot through her, reached her brain, but couldn't make itself completely felt. Something else was there ahead of the pain, something far more important. It was all coming to her, that voice inside, repeating over and over the same few words. She stepped outside into the fresh night air and her brain let up some of its thumping. “Yes, yes, that's what I must do,” she said aloud.

The gate in the back wall was locked. Of course it was. Why did she even try to open it? That only slowed her down. She raced through the alley to the front of the house, to Cydelpan Street, to the end of the block, then turned, heading toward Spruce Street.

The air was rapidly lifting the fog from her head and everything, she knew, was now clear to her--so very, very clear. She had been such a fool all this time, she told herself, such a damned stupid fool. A few words spoken in an unguarded moment and everything, every part of the puzzle fell into place. Of course, she would call Sylvester. He'd have to get there and get there as soon as possible, but there was someone else far more important who should be there. She would, she knew, have to get that person up to the third floor of the Rhynn house as soon as her feet and her power of conviction could get him there.

He has to be home, he simply has to be home, she prayed as she turned onto Spruce Street and hurried to Pat's house, then past it. She took the front steps two at a time, rang the doorbell, then immediately began pounding on the front door. “Oh, please God, make him answer!”

She heard a sound inside, then the rattle of a chain and the door opened slightly.

“Sarah!” she cried out and roughly pushed herself past the startled woman. “Mr. Heisler, I must speak to him immediately.”

“Mr. Heisler's asleep,” Sarah said and stepped in front of Phillis who was by this time looking up the staircase.

“Then I'll awaken him,” Phillis said and raced up the staircase calling out his name, leaving a frightened Sarah standing, mouth agape, at the foot of the stairs. -

Reviewer’s Comments:

Structure:  The book is well structured and easy to read.  The language used is good.  I managed to spot only one typo.

Content:  The book is a combination of detective, quasi romance and thriller, and it all works well, with many twists, false leads and surprises, leaving one feeling satisfied at the end of it all.

Reviewer’s Comments:  I really enjoyed this book.  It is light reading, with a little moral overtone and some criticism of the society in which it is set, but all in comfortable proportions.  It is a book that makes me want to read more by this author.

 

Thursday 15 November 2012

Lost! by Nicole Stuart


Book Title:  Lost!

ISBN  9781466191969

Part of Series:  Integra Series - Integra ,


Author:  Nicole Stuart 
Available at:  Smashwords
, Barnes and Noble  , Kobo  , Apple   , Diesel  , Baker-Taylor, Sony 
Price:  $4.99

Number of words (approximately):  53 356

Star Rating (of five):  Four

Summary:  Two executives are traveling to Australia when their executive jet runs into a cloud of volcanic dust, killing the engines.  The aircraft crashes into the sea ahead of a hurricane, and only Don and sally, his boss, escape.  They keep alive until the reach an island, where they have to establish a new life.  The hope of rescue is dashed when they find that the boats that arrive at the island belong to pirates, preying on shipping in the area.

Extract: 

- “How long will we be floating around like this?”  Sally asked the question, dreading the answer.  The amount of open sea surrounding the point where Don estimated them to be was frightening.

“I don’t have any good answer, Sally,” he replied.  “It depends on many things.  The duration of the storm, our exact position relative to the storm, its track, our rate of drift, the rate of current in the area.  Other things too.  But my best guess is at least a week, possibly up to three weeks before we come to any land.”

“A week to three weeks!”  The thought of having to endure these conditions for that long appalled Sally.  “How can we keep alive that long?”

“Water is the biggest problem we face, Sally.  We can live for five or six days on the water we have.  We can live without food for several weeks.  If I die, you can eat me!  That’ll keep you going at least a couple of months!”

“Don’t you dare die on me, Donald Bennings!  I’ve got plans for you!  And you promised to introduce me to your parents!”  Sally spoke the words jokingly, as had Don, but there was an element of seriousness behind them.  It was not lost on Don, but he chose not to take up on it.  Sally lay back and turned her head to face Don, her eyes mere inches from his.  “How do you rate our chances, Don?”  Her voice underscored the uncertainty she felt.

“I’d say fair to good, Sally.  Much better than a half hour ago, when we were in the plane, and even better than ten minutes before that, when we were about to crash!  It’s uncomfortable, but that will improve as the storm subsides.  We’re past the worst now.  We’ve survived a plane crash in the ocean in a hurricane!  What more can you ask?”  Don spoke the words in a light tone.  He did not want to lie to Sally, nor did he want to analyze the real situation too closely.  To be stuck, drifting in a flimsy liferaft in a severe storm several hundreds of miles from the nearest land, without an accurate position fix, food, warm clothing, radio or any of the necessities of life that he would plan for in such a situation was certainly not to be taken light-heartedly, but moping would achieve nothing.  Good morale was critical in such a situation.  He looked into Sally’s eyes, finding them particularly interesting in the half-light.  She saw that he was looking at her eyes.

“They’re a little funny, I know!” said Sally.  “People sometimes comment about them!  Even if they don’t comment, I can often feel them looking!”

“I would not call them funny, Sally.  They are certainly unusual, even disconcerting, but not funny!  They’re very attractive.  They’re beautiful.  They’re like you.”  Don looked again, and was rewarded with a smile from Sally.

“How long will this storm last?”

“It will probably blow over in a day or two.  I‘m not sure of how fast it’s moving, or even what our position is relative to the eye of the hurricane.  I’d guess that we’re on the south-west edge of the storm, quite far from the eye.  If that’s the case, it will be past us in a couple of days at the most, but it could be longer.  These storm systems are hundreds of miles across.  We’ll just have to wait and see!  There is nothing we can do about that at the moment.”

This news did not make Sally happy.  She was cold and wet, and becoming uncomfortable on the floor of the liferaft.  The size of the raft was not enough for either of them to extend their limbs, taller than average as they were.  They could not stretch out straight in any direction.  She was certainly not looking forward to spending the next few weeks in that position. -

Reviewer’s Comments:

Structure:  The book is well written and presented, with no obvious errors or failings.  It reads easily and smoothly.

Content:  The book tells of an episode in the lives of two people, of how they rise to meet the challenges of survival in a situation where many would give in to despair.  The characters are well described and credible, the situations are realistic, the action flows without hiccups. 

Reviewer’s Comments:  The characters in this book are almost real to me – I feel that I know both of them well, and I felt that I was involved in their situations.  After Run!, this is my favorite book in the series.  I read it in one sitting, and, when I was through, I was keen to buy the next book on my list of Nicole Stuart’s works.  She has become one of my favorite authors!  Strongly recommended!

Karin B

 

The Up-Country Man by Kenneth Ryeland


Book Title:  The Up-Country Man

ISBN  9781458004727

Part of Series:  African Tales

Author:  Kenneth Ryeland

Available at:  Smashwords  Amazon UK
  AmazonUS  

Print Lulu.com   
  

Price:  $4.69

Number of words (approximately):  179 904

Star Rating (of five):  4

Summary:  A young mechanical engineer obtains a posting to Nigeria, only a few months before the secession of Biafra.  His experiences in parts of Nigeria and Biafra, tell of his development as a man and as a human, and describe the descent into chaos of an already corrupt country.  The description is from the point of view of one man, but it provides a good window onto the life of an expatriate in a turbulent time in African history.

Extract: 

- Fred looked at me in mock disgust and said, “Well, you mean bugger. Here’s this poor old sod, working in his own time and you give him fifteen bob. You should be bloody-well ashamed of yourself. Go on; give him another pound for God’s sake.”

Fred was right; the mahogany box was probably worth £25 at home.

“Baba, this is your lucky day,” I said taking a note from my wallet. “Here’s another pound.” It was as if he had been given the Crown Jewels. He dropped to his knees and placed his forehead on my shoes. I glanced at Fred and then down at the old man. His actions made me feel embarrassed and angry, but not at the carpenter. He was only doing what his tribal elders had taught him to do in the presence of his so-called betters. The system was to blame; it had prompted an automatic reaction from an old man towards a much younger and less experienced man of a different race and colour. It was certainly not my right to expect this kind of behaviour, nor did I want it. The old man just could not help himself. It was built into his system.

In the weeks and months that lay ahead, I observed this behaviour often, especially between the Africans themselves. Due respect for other people was one thing, but, in my opinion, this sort of thing was positively medieval. I reflected on these and other similar incidents many times during my stay in Africa and concluded it was simply a matter of social evolution. We Europeans had gone through this kind of social behaviour many centuries ago and, to be fair, we had to give the African people time to develop at their pace. However, it did serve to remind me that the British class system had only really started to break down after the Second World War. Perhaps we were not so clever or socially advanced after all. The incident was a clear reminder to me that in Africa there were bound to be many different and varied behavioural patterns from those I was familiar with in England.

“Get up, for God’s sake,” I muttered quietly to the carpenter. “There’s no need for this sort of thing with me. I’m not the Oba of Lagos.” An Oba was the local equivalent of a king.

The old carpenter looked up at me and said, “No, sa, you no be Oba, but you dey catch na plenty good ting for we Africa pepol.”-

 

 

- (At the Customs on exit from Biafra) Suddenly he said, “What of money, wey him dey?” I chose to ignore him and continued with my packing. He then restrained my arm and said menacingly, “Make you hurry, na plenty pepol here today. I neffa get time to waste for you.”

My feeling of contempt for the customs man was growing by the minute, but I obeyed his instruction by withdrawing the solitary banknote from my pocket and dangling it in front of him. All at once, he made a grab for the note, whisked it from between my fingers and placed it inside a notebook he had taken from his tunic pocket. Before I could utter a word of protest, he held up his hand to halt my outburst and said with a smile, “Make you listen to me, white man. You no fit take dissy money for Nigeria. Dissy money him dey, dey for Biafra now.”

His explanation was not clear to me. The note was a regular Nigerian fiver, issued by the Central Bank. My patience was exhausted, but my common sense continued to urge restraint and thus my reply was delivered in a calm and dignified manner.

“Excuse me, Officer, but that banknote you’ve confiscated is Nigerian currency. If you care to examine it, you will see it has Central Bank of Nigeria printed all over it, for Christ’s sake. It is clearly not Biafran money because there’s no such thing. As such, will you now please return it to me?”

The officer sneered and said with great delight, “No. I no fit return dissy money to you, white man. Dem Nigeria pepol, dem go change eberyting. Dissy money no fit for dissy Nigeria now. Him only fit for dissy Biafra and we no fit allow you take dissy Biafra money outside. Sabby? Now move, white man. Go!” -

 

Reviewer’s Comments:

Structure:  The book is well-structured, meeting the requirements for easy eBook reading.  The grammar and syntax, although written in a light, almost chatty, style, are good.  The language used is colloquial English.

Content:  The book tells of one of the most harrowing periods in modern Africa, setting out the characters and personalities that made Africa what it is.  It gives the background to a political move that precipitated the greatest suffering Nigeria has known.

Reviewer’s Comments:  Reading this book gives one a good understanding of the real Africa.  The descriptions of the people with whom the author came in contact are the good ‘salt of the earth’ people struggling to find their way through the confusion and the propaganda, the followers who leap on the bandwagon and ride with the wave of oppression to their own doom, the expatriates who are the mainstay of the economy and, at the same time, the whipping boys for the politicians seeking to drive up public sentiment for their own causes. 

If you desire to understand the reasons for why Africa has failed to take its place in the fellowship of nations, you must read this book.

Nicole S

 

Friday 9 November 2012

Recovery! by Nicole Stuart


Book Title:  Recovery!

 

ISBN  9781301861897

Part of Series:  Yes – ‘Integra’ series, sequel to ‘Meteor Impact’


 
Author:  Nicole Stuart 
 
Available at:  Smashwords,  Barnes and Noble, Kobo, Apple, Diesel, Baker-Taylor, Sony

Price:  $5.99

Number of words (approximately):  94 183

Star Rating (of five):  4

Summary:  The meteor strikes described in ‘Meteor Impact’ have devastated parts of the world, and the team now gets to work to save what it can and rebuild what has been destroyed.

Extract: 

- The guards came running out of the camp to take up their assigned positions, each one carrying a rifle.  Some of them were fumbling for the ammunition clips in their belts.  They came into sight of the men approaching the camp.  The result was immediate.  The leading man half rose from his position of concealment and hurled his long spear.  It flashed across the short distance to the guard, and struck him in the chest.  The guard went crashing down.

The other men rose, as if on command, and threw their spears at the running guards.  One guard took a spear in the throat, and the remaining guard dropped, a spear through his thigh.  The approaching men ran over the short distance to the guards.  Those who had thrown their spears recovered them from the bodies of the fallen guards, jerking them free of the bodies, holding the injured or dead guards down with one foot while they did so.  Their spears recovered, the men carried on running up to the camp.  Now, knowing that they had been discovered, they made no attempt to hide, relying on speed to carry them through. 

The security guard who had gone to the other side of the camp was on the radio, calling in his native language, the sound of fear clear in his voice.  His voice was almost a shout, distorting what he was saying to the extent that it was not possible understand him.  When there was a break, Johan spoke.

“This is Johan.  There are about ten men attacking the camp.  They have taken out three guards.  They’re coming in from the east.  Take cover immediately!  Ashraf, do you read?”

“I read you, Johan!  What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure!  We saw about ten armed men approaching the camp from the west.  When the guards came out, the men threw spears at them.  I’d say that two of the guards are either dead or severely injured, and the third is badly wounded in the leg!  The men have entered the camp.”

Johan waited briefly for a response.  There was nothing.  Fearing the worst, he thumbed the Transmit button again.

“Ashraf, are you there?”

Again, there was no response.  There was no sound from the camp, no movement.

“Stay here under cover, Brenda!  Keep away from the truck.  If they’re intent on robbing us, they’ll come to the truck!”

“Where are you going, Johan?”

“I’ll try to get us some rifles and ammunition.  I think that they’ll come back for them when they’re done in the camp, so it’s our best chance now!”

“Take care, Johan!”  Brenda wanted to say much more.  She had developed a real liking for Johan, for his gentle character, his willingness to do any work, and his clear thinking.  She restrained herself, knowing that now was not the time to broach that sort of subject.

Johan moved off silently, moving from one bush to another as he approached the nearest guard, the man who had been speared in the throat.  He could see that the man must be dead.  There was a jagged wound on either side of the man’s throat, and a huge pool of blood beneath him on the ground.  He scrabbled the last few meters to the rifle, then, picking it up, he reached for the ammunition clip in the holster on the man’s belt.

Brenda was watching from the cover of a dense bush.  She saw Johan, bending down as he searched for the ammunition clip.  She saw a man coming up behind him, from the same direction as the other men had come.  He had obviously been left behind as a sentry!  Brenda found that she had taken hold of a fist-size rock.  She called on her experience in softball at school.  She had been an ace pitcher!  She stood silently, doing her best not to attract the man’s attention to her.  She saw him lift his arm, sweeping it smoothly back, the spear in his hand steady as he aimed, almost instinctively, at Johan, who remained unaware of the deadly threat.  Brenda wound up, sweeping her arm round in an underarm throw.  Her pitch was as good as it ever had been.  The fist-sized rock flew through the air, hit the man on the temple.  There was an audible thump, and the man collapsed in a heap, dropping the long spear to the ground.  Shocked, Johan looked around, saw the man falling.  Realizing that he was probably safe for the moment, he unlatched the leather band holding the ammunition clip in the guard’s belt holster and pulled the clip from it.  He stood, rifle held ready and searched for any further threat as he inserted the magazine in the rifle and worked the bolt.  There was nothing.  After a careful look around the area, he went on to the next fallen guard, knowing that he had to rely on Brenda.  In the patchy darkness, looking against the flare of light from the sun, now dropped below the western horizon, it was impossible to see far enough to ensure that no-one was approaching. -

Reviewer’s Comments:

Structure:  The book is well-formatted in accordance with recommendations.  The language used is good, the grammar and syntax good.

Content:  The content is suitable for all ages.  It is partly technical in nature, but suitable for general readers.  It examines the failings of governmental attempts to make things happen.

Reviewer’s Comments:  Although this book is capable of being read on its own, it forms a continuum with ‘Meteor Impact’.  The story ranges around the world, analyzing the likely effects of a major – but not extinction event level – meteor impact on the Earth, and how the team appointed to the task sets about making preparations for the strike, and then recovering the world’s economies afterwards.  Nicole Stuart likes to add real value in her books, and this one is no exception.  Think about the problems of preventing economic collapse, an almost certain outcome if a meteor were to hit a major economy, then read this book to find out what you have missed! 

The story line is credible, the characters real and likable, the movement fast. 

A recommended read.

Karin B