Islands of the Gulf Volume One

Book Title:  Islands of the Gulf Volume One 

 

ISBN  9780986636912

Part of Series:  Yes  The Herbert West Trilogy.

Author:  AudreyDriscoll

 

Available at:  Smashwords 

Price:  $2.99 

Number of words (approximately):  160 468

Star Rating (of five):  4

Summary:  A continuation of the Herbert West Trilogy, this book tells of the escape from Arkham, the town where it all started, and progresses through half the world, with Herbert West, renaqmed Francis Deter, using his medical skills.  The story is told, as in the first book, in the first person by close friends.

Extract: 

- Suddenly I thought of something. “Francis. Rupert – Rupert Winfield, you know – is doing some sort of investigation into your background.”

Again that stillness, a willed calm, like that of a creature ready to spring, but who waits until action is absolutely necessary. “Oh? How do you know that?”

“Because he told me some things after the inquest. He said there’s no record of your ever having attended the college you said you’d gotten your degrees from. Or that you ever practiced as a physician in Massachusetts. He doesn’t like you, he never has. And I have a confession. Rupert’s not the only one to have been curious about you. When you first came to Bellefleur, I assumed you were a widower. That you had lost your wife and son through some great misfortune.”

I couldn't stop myself. Now that he had revealed his secrets to me, I could ask him things I had kept quiet for years. “But there was a death in 1923, of someone close to you – your friend and colleague, Dr.Herbert West.”

His glance flicked my face like a thrown knife. I had never before seen such coldness in his eyes. But his voice was, if anything, softer than before.

“What do you know of Herbert West?” he asked.

I realized, quite suddenly, that I did not know this man. He was a stranger. The mourning widower who had turned himself into a credible facsimile of a country doctor, the man who had been my friend, was gone. In his place was this other creature, this exotic who called himself Julian’s lover. On the waters of the Gulf, he had revealed to me secrets wrapped in secrets, with hints of other secrets behind them. Secrets and lies? For he had lied to us, or at least deceived us, for years. And now I was alone with him on this boat, with no one nearby. Wanting to reciprocate his confidences, I had revealed to him that I had delved into the past he guarded so carefully.

When I had made my admission, it was to the Francis Dexter whose reactions I had grown to know. But this man? While I had been minding the helm, keeping my eyes on the compass and masthead pennant and the distant horizon, he had changed, and I found myself sailing with a panther or a bird of prey. As he stared at me in the bright light of midday, with his question hanging between us, I saw the bones of his skull, the points of his cheekbones sharp beneath golden-brown skin marked with lines of laughter and care. It wasn’t only Julian, I realized with absurd compassion, who had grown thinner in these troubled months. Here was one who was able at will to whet himself like a blade. I did not know what form his anger might take, or fear, or even love. But I was about to find out.

“I know almost nothing about Herbert West,” I said. “I should have told you all this long ago. When you went away with Julian, that first time, Captain B. asked me to find a magazine he’d lent you, so I went over to your house and looked for it. While I was there I saw a book of Edgar Allan Poe’s stories on one of your shelves. I’ve always liked his writing. And inside it I found – ”

“Some photographs. I know. But what did they tell you about Herbert West?”

“I almost recognized the woman, Eleonora Desanges. There was a date on her picture. Later I went to the Public Library in town and found some newspaper stories about how her career was saved by Dr. Herbert West of Arkham, Massachusetts. I thought I’d heard you mention that place, so I assumed you and Dr. West must have been colleagues and friends. I also found his obituary in the New York Times, and a story about his death in the Boston paper. I wondered if that might have been the reason you gave up your career and decided to travel, until you came here. That’s all.”

“I see.” The panther was gone. His face had relaxed into its familiar lineaments. “Well, you were right. The death of Herbert West affected me significantly.”

“Was that him, in the third picture? The one with the car?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you were in the Canadian Army? That photograph of you in uniform made it quite clear.”

“I didn’t actually say I wasn’t, did I? You assumed I’d been in the American forces, and I didn’t contradict you. As for the reason…” He looked into the distance yet again. “Only because it's hard, sometimes, to tell the whole truth about oneself. One truth leads to another, and before one knows it, one is stripped bare. Sometimes one needs an insulating layer of ambiguity. Especially we inverts.”

He turned back to me. “I hope you won’t mention any of this to Captain Bellgarde. He wouldn’t take kindly to discovering that he has been harbouring a degenerate on his island. And he wouldn’t be the only one. If it became common knowledge I would have to leave.”

“No, Francis. We all need you here, especially the Captain. Of course I won’t say anything.”

“All right, Margaret.” He smiled, but with an effort. “I think we’ve had enough serious talk for now, don’t you? The rest will keep for a later time, I promise you. Now, what about that picnic basket?”

“Sally insisted I take it. She had her cook make it up.”

“Very thoughtful of her. Suppose we investigate its contents.”

I didn’t think I’d be able to eat, but I was happy for a diversion. The contents of the basket included a great many dainty little sandwiches, some exquisite baked delicacies, apples and plums from Sally’s garden and, rather to my amusement, a bottle of champagne. I found that I had an appetite after all, and at length I ventured to ask another question.

“Francis, it seems that my husband, Richard, met Dr. West once when they were both on leave in London. He mentioned it in a letter to me a few months before he was killed. Dr. West was with some other medical officers. Were you one of them? Do you remember?”

“I don’t recall the occasion. West and I were both in the C.A.M.C., but we weren’t stationed together. He was at one of the General Hospitals, while I was closer to the front, at Casualty Clearing Stations and the like. St. Eloi, Doullens, places like those.”

“Apparently Richard and Dr. West had quite an interesting conversation. About life and death. Especially death. Richard said he had some rather novel ideas. But they were both in an inebriated state, I gather, so…”

“Very likely. Both the inebriation and the talk of death. Herbert was interested in death. Morbidly so, you might say.” He laughed, rather mirthlessly, I thought. “He was never the same after the War. Speaking of inebriation, I suggest we broach that bottle your friend so considerately included.”

He shot the cork over the side and poured the effervescent wine into glasses also supplied by Sally. Growing a little reckless after the first glass, we drank toasts – to Julian, to the Flying Star, to Richard, to Herbert West. Not long after this, and with the first of the islands drawing nearer off our starboard bow, Francis began to sing. Softly, as though to himself, he sang an old folk ballad about a false love and a deep-laden ship.

“Julian loved that song,” he said when he finished, not looking at me. “We’d sing it together at the end of a day’s sailing, somewhere in the back of beyond.”

His hair was ruffled, his cheeks touched with colour from the champagne and the long day of sun and wind. His face, though peaceful now, was stamped with sorrow, which I did not think would ever quite leave him. It would be present always in the shape of his mouth, even when he smiled, and in a certain pinched look about the eyes. I thought about the words of the song, the longing and sorrow they expressed, and how strangely appropriate they were, given his self-accusation of betrayal. I felt tired and a little muddled by the wine, but we were in home waters now and soon would be entering Millie Bay.

Francis turned to me. “Thank you for sailing with me, Margaret,” he said, with a formality that did not seem quite out of place.

“Thank you for asking me. I was honoured.” But I had to break the solemnity. “Do you plan to keep on sailing?” I asked. “Will you keep the Star?” -

Reviewer’s Comments:

Structure:  The book is well-structured, as we have come to expect from Audrey Driscoll.  It is easy to read, with no disturbances.

Content:  The story continues, with Herbert West taking a new identity to escape from Arkham.  His travels take him to different parts of the world, to meet different and interesting people.  The descriptions and the flow of the plot are smooth and enticing, the use of the language delightful.

Reviewer’s Comments:  The books that Audrey Driscoll crafts need no plot – they are excellent reading simply for the wonderful flow of her words, and the use of the language in which she is so skilled.  The storyline adds to the enjoyment, with considerable imagination and a constant development, wrapping the reader into the lives of the characters.  This book is a worthy successor to Audrey’s earlier book, ‘The Friendship of Mortals’.

Karin B

 

The Writer by Nicole Stuart

Book Title:  The Writer

ISBN  978-1-920659-22-6

Part of Series:  No.  See other books by Nicole Stuart:

Alive!
Chain Reaction
Extinction Event
Hijack
Hydrocarbon
Integra
Intrepid
Justis
Lost!
Meteor Impact
Population
Ransom
Recovery!
Revenge!
Run!
Storm
Terrorist
Thoughts
Tsunami
Virus

Author:  Nicole Stuart

Available at: Amazon US, Amazon UK

Price:  $2.99

Number of words (approximately):  50042

Star Rating (of five):  5

Summary:  A writer, frustrated at the failures of his plots and characters, travels from Vancouver to Mossel Bay, South Africa, in search of inspiration.  He finds it the first day, in a photograph of a beautiful blonde woman he took by accident.  Her appearance ignites the spark, and he settles down to write the book that tells of him writing the book.  The blonde woman takes on a strange reality as the plot develops, a reality paralleled in his real world, as he races to complete the story.

Extract: 

- “Have a look down there!”  Peter exclaimed the words suddenly, quietly, so their sound carried only to Roger and Geraldine.  Roger looked in the direction of Peter’s nod, and his heart stopped.  ‘Down there’ was the woman.  She was sitting at a bench seat with three men, her right side and back to them.  Her hair, blazing bright in the sunshine, made her impossible to miss.  It was a beacon of light in the crowded open-air restaurant area.  As Roger looked, she turned her head to talk to the man beside her.  The move brought her delicate nose, her fine lips and her elegant eyebrows into sight.

Roger raised his camera and took a series of shots of her, the automatic exposure and focusing mechanisms of his new camera making light work of the mechanics of the act.  Roger’s action was brought to an abrupt end when the man who had previously blocked his view of the woman returned to his seat on a slightly raised level of the restaurant, and blocked the view again.

“I agree with you!” stated Geraldine, turning back to face Roger.  “There is a story there.  She’s a German heiress to an industrial empire.  The three men with her are suitors, each one vying to become her husband and to share the spoils of her father’s reign of tyranny over the repressed workers in his fifteen factories!”

“You know her?” asked Peter.  “Gosh, that’s impressive!”

“I don’t know her, dummy!” laughed Geraldine.  “The story just seemed plausible.  “She’s got to be something special, looking like that!  Those men are doting on her!”

Roger was looking in the direction of the table that had disappeared from view, hoping that the large man who was blocking his line of sight would move away, evaporate, anything!  He needed to see the woman again.  He did not simply want to see her.  He needed to see her, in a way that he had never experienced before!

Suddenly, there was a disturbance at the edge of the water.  One of the surfers was wading in towards the shore, dragging something behind him and shouting unintelligible words.  Roger picked up his camera and walked towards the beach, near to where the surfer would be coming on shore, keen to record any additional atmosphere that might be included in his story.  He looked around briefly, noticing that Geraldine and Peter were close behind him.  The surfer finally reached the beach and turned side on, to pull the object he was towing onto the sand.

It was a man.

A dead man, to be exact.  The body was dressed in lightweight clothing suitable for a business meeting in a hot climate – trousers, a light cotton shirt with no tie, socks but no shoes on his feet.  He was clearly dead, in the sort of way that one instinctively knows indicates death.  His mouth was partly open, the eyes staring.  Roger lifted his camera without thinking, and took a series of photographs, changing focal length from wide angle to telephoto as he did so, covering the general scene, the surfer, the body and the crowd now standing around it, gaping in that horrid fascination that draws crowds to freeway pile-ups, building collapses and other forms of violent death.  Every face that Roger photographed showed the same expression of shock, horror and fascination.  Every face but one.  The last face that Roger captured on his digital memory card was that of the blonde woman, as she approached the scene.  It showed a series of expressions on her at-first serene face that changed, developed, as she took in what she was seeing – interest, tragedy, fear,   and recognition.  Roger managed to film in rapid fire each development of the expression as it changed from interest to recognition, as the woman moved through the blanketing crowd to a position where she could see the dead face of the man on the sand.  Roger saw her eyes roll backward.  Without thinking, and without intention, he forced his way through the crowd to her side, and caught her as she fell in a dead faint. -

 

Reviewer’s Comments:

Structure:  The book is well-structured, makes good use of the language and is easy to read.

Content:  The plot is an interesting one.  It tells the story of an author writing his story, and also the story he is writing.  A number of coincidences occur, bringing his real life into parallel with his story, and he is increasingly compelled to allow his characters to tell their stories to the end.

Reviewer’s Comments: 

I love Nicole Stuart’s work.  It is easy to read, compelling, with many unique thoughts and plots.  This book is one of her best – it is un-put-downable, and leaves the reader with the feeling that all is as it should be.  A delightful book!  I look forward eagerly to the next.

Intrepid by Nicole Stuart

Book Title:  Intrepid by Nicole Stuart

 

ISBN  9781301018703

Part of Series:  No

Author:  Nicole Stuart

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

Price:  $1.99

Number of words (approximately):  59 397

Star Rating (of five):  4

Summary:  A lone sailor is persuaded to take a couple of passengers on a voyage from the Bahamas to Gibraltar.  The voyage reveals the true characters of his passengers, a woman and her half-brother, and turns into a contest between good and bad.

Extract: 

- The night passed, and they stood together to witness the traces of dawn.  The sky was too heavily covered to permit any star or sun sight, and Celine realized clearly how dangerous it must have been, before the advent of modern navigation aids, to sail about in the vicinity of islands in these conditions.  They could still see the faint loom of the light they had passed, as well as one on Faial, that became visible shortly before dawn.  Celine practiced her rapidly developing navigation skills by using a combination of the direction of the two lights and dead reckoning from her last fix to work out their position.  She was delighted when she confirmed from the GPS that her estimate was less than a mile off!  Shortly after dawn, the rain stopped briefly and the clouds lightened, sufficiently for them to see the island of Faial.

It was a sight to treasure in life’s memories!  The island consisted of high cliffs topped by green fields with white houses dotted around, a fairytale picture.  The combination of green and white was so intense against the grey of the shy that it was almost painful to look at.  Jon and Celine stood at the side of the cockpit, hand in hand, soaking up the sight of the beautiful island after so long without the sight of land.  They did that for fifteen minutes as Intrepid crawled slowly alongside the island, until the rain closed in again, all but obliterating the sight.  Celine turned to Jon, her heart overflowing with joy, and hugged him.  Her happiness was complete!

It took several hours for them to round the south end of Faial, then they sailed slowly up the coast to the north, entering the huge bay and sailing up to the concrete jetty.  Only one other boat, a rusty tramp steamer, was tied up.  Jon brought them up to the jetty expertly, bucking the swirls of wind that intruded on the bay.  Celine jumped ashore with the midships line and fastened it on the bollard there, then took the bow line from Jon, while he jumped ashore to tie the stern line.  They had arrived! -

 Reviewer’s Comments:

Structure:  The book is well-structured and easy to read, without hindrance.

Content:  The book tells of the travails of a voyage across the Atlantic, with storms, calms and threats, obviously with a real-life fund of experience.  It is a good sailing tale, and has a fascinating content of modern-day piracy.

Reviewer’s Comments:  The book is exciting and real.  It meets one of my tests well:  do I care about the characters?  I did!  And I loved the book!

Karin B

 

Revenge! by Nicole Stuart

Book Title:  Revenge! By Nicole Stuart

 

ISBN  9781301874576

Part of Series:  No

Author:  Nicole Stuart (Smashwords  Diesel ,Kobo ) 

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

Price:  $4.99

Number of words (approximately):  38 157

Star Rating (of five):  4

Summary:  A scientist finds he is working on a biological weapon for the Arartheid Government.  He escapes to the United States, and leaves his research behind.  Then the Muslim terrorist attack on the World Trade Center takes his family.  He wants revenge, and turns to his previous work to get it. 

Extract: 

- Our lives never became the same again after 9/11, as the attack became known.  We listened to the speeches of President Bush and other politicians and religious leaders assuring the nation that Islam was a religion of peace, that the attacks had been carried out by a renegade faction under Osama bin Laden, that not all Muslims were fanatics.  I understood the need for those speeches, that the President could not allow the nation to take revenge on any Muslim they could find, that he must do whatever he could to protect the six hundred thousand Muslims living in the United States.  But I never forgot the repulsive face of Yasser Arafat denying any responsibility, while his Palestinian Muslims danced their joy in the background, danced to celebrate the death of our daughter.  They came to epitomize the face of Islam for me.  I saw that clip several times more, after that first time, and each time I saw it, my impression grew stronger that, although Arafat might not have been responsible for the attack, he wished that he had been.  I noticed the silence from most Muslim countries around the world about the attacks, a silence that was all the more remarkable for the loud cries of resentment at the deaths of the Taliban terrorists killed by American forces.  I heard from a friend in South Africa that the Muslim population there was declaring that ‘America had at last got what it deserved’.  There was never any comment from those hate mongers about the contribution that the American Government and, in many cases, the American people, made to their countries, in food, medication, education, aid of every kind, and always without wanting anything in return except, perhaps, a desire to be liked.  I contrasted these facts with the statements that Islam was a religion of peace.  I heard with horror that Taliban-like schools were being run in the United States, hiding under the umbrella of free speech, an umbrella that existed nowhere in a Muslim-governed country, while they brainwashed the Muslim children to hate their hosts.  Although I had been critical of the Israeli government in their treatment of the Palestinian refugees, a problem that I thought the Israelis had at least contributed to by their actions and policies, I now started to understand what it must be like to live in a country that was under constant threat of attack, of annihilation by the Muslim nations.  I still could not sympathize entirely with Israel, but I could understand them more clearly. -

Reviewer’s Comments:

Structure:  The book complies with all guidelines for easy reading.  The language is good, unpretentious and pleasant.

Content:  The book is written in the first person, describing in person terms the joys and harrowing sadness of the character’s life, his decision to seek revenge on the religious insanity that leads men to take the lives of others.  His suffering is relieved when a Muslim woman shows him that the insanity is guided by evil men, and is not a necessary part of the religion.  The book addresses issues that many have raised in a new way, and possibly gives a warning.

Reviewer’s Comments:  This book is a gem!  It is stressful to read, raising questions and possibilities that one would wish not to have to confront, and showing how many of those who suffered as a results of the 9/11 attacks have felt.  It is strongly recommended.

Karin B

 

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 

Amazon UK,  Amazon US   

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

Part of Series:  Integra, Run! , Ransom, Tsunami, Hydrocarbon , Lost!, Population, Meteor Impact , Recovery! , Virus

 

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