Page 1 of The Death
CHAPTER
1
Unbelievable. Just unbelievable.
Alex Dominic lowered the binoculars and shook his head. He had traveled hundreds of miles to visit the African village of Karimu, but there was almost nothing left to see. A few smoldering huts, burned-out wells, and dismembered corpses of men and women.
Sam Rashid, who had accompanied Dominic on this hellishly long journey to the village, raised his camera and snapped a series of pictures. “No children yet. Do you think they were spared?”
“Doubtful. I found several infants who had been butchered and left to die in the chief’s hut. My guess is that any older children were probably taken and sold to local traffickers.” Dominic’s jaw clenched. “The attack was just in the past few hours. We still might be able to catch up to the monsters who did this.”
“Where we’ll probably find an entire army of other monsters waiting for us,” Rashid said. “Maybe hundreds of them.”
“I don’t care.” Dominic’s gaze went back to the bloody carnage he’d just discovered. “We’ll find a way to take ’em on anyway.”
“Shit.” Rashid sighed. “I knew you would say that.”
“Am I that predictable?”
“In cases like this, yes. We’ve been through too much together. Besides, I could tell by the look on your face. You’re getting madder by the second.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Of course.” Rashid adjusted his camera lens and snapped another series of photos. “Did you find any other evidence about who did this in any of those huts?”
Dominic nodded. “I found the main weapons cache in that third hut across the way. It came complete with a box of ammo that had very familiar ID marking the bullets. I’ll have to dig a little deeper, but I’ll be able to pin down the arms dealer very soon.” Dominic pulled the blue kerchief from around his neck and tied it over his nose and mouth. The odor of burning flesh was overpowering. Shit, he’d hoped to prevent this.
Damn those bastards.
There was a sound behind them!
Dominic drew his Glock automatic from his shoulder holster and spun around.
Nothing but a burning hut and a few smoldering piles that had been living, breathing human beings just hours before.
Dominic cocked his head. It was that sound again.
“What is it?” Rashid whispered.
Dominic nodded toward a sheet of corrugated tin lying on the ground. It moved slightly.
Rashid lowered his camera and drew his own handgun.
Dominic tried to affect a casual stroll as he moved back in the general direction of the rusted tin sheet. “I’ve seen enough. Let’s make our way back toward the river. Maybe someonethere can tell us where—” Dominic kicked the edge of the sheet, flipping it over. He raised his gun and pointed it toward two figures crouching underneath.
Two children, a boy and a girl. They couldn’t have been more than eight or nine. Their dirty faces were streaked with tears. They both raised their hands in surrender.
Dominic lowered his gun as he inspected the children for any sign either of them might be carrying a weapon.
There was none.
“Don’t worry,” Dominic said quietly, speaking Swahili. He wasn’t a native speaker like Rashid, but he knew enough to navigate most social situations. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
The boy looked relieved, but the girl seemed distinctly doubtful.
“We’re here to help,” Rashid said. He pulled two water bottles from his pack and handed them over. “What are your names?”
“I’m Zola,” the boy said after gulping down some of the water. “This is Alora. She’s my sister.”
