Chapter One
TheCurse
January 10, 2027
Namibia
On a desolate expanse of the Kalahari Desert, a battered Toyota Hilux sped over a rough dirt track, kicking up a long plume of brown dust that rose high into the blue sky. At the wheel, Silas bounced in his seat as the pickup jostled over the sandy road. Everywhere he looked he saw the undulating waste of the desert, flat and sunbaked in its hypnotic shades of red and orange. This land was nearly devoid of life, with only the occasional cluster of camel thorn orHoodiacacti.
But up ahead, at the base of a dune, Silas saw a grove of umbrella trees. That meant there could be water there. And water meant game, possibly rhinos and elephants. The Ivory Queen was currently paying $3,000 a kilo for black rhino horn, and that was a price that Silas simply couldn’t refuse.
He smiled at the thought of what he could buy with all that money, but then he frowned as his eyes flitted to the rearview mirror and the two men riding in the bed of the truck. He considered each of them in turn. Charles was in his early twenties, lean and clever, and the best shot in the village. Kerel was older, almost forty,loud-mouthed and insufferable. Silas gave a heavy sigh. It was never an easy choice to include Kerel on a hunting party. The man never shut up. Indeed, it was said in the village that the only time he wasn’t imparting his wisdom to the unenlightened was when he was asleep. Yet Silas needed Kerel because he was as strong as a lion and could butcher a rhino in less than an hour. On other hunting trips he’d let the men ride in the cab with him, but not today. He didn’t want to put up with Kerel’s superstitious chatter.
“There are strange stories coming out of the desert,” Kerel had said. “The Sān gods are powerful again.” All weekend he had been fretting about it, saying that it was too dangerous to come. Silas saw the talk for what it was—a ploy to get extra pay.
The tree line was now only three hundred meters away. The road dipped into a long gully then rose again. As they broke to flat ground, they startled a dozen vultures feeding on a carcass by the side of the road. The birds lifted angrily, making guttural squawks.
But what caught Silas’s eye was a handmade sign by the side of theroad.
Kerel banged on the roof for Silas to stop. Silas cursed in annoyance but complied.
The sign read,danger. goback!
Kerel jumped to the ground and came up to his window. “See, I told you. We cannot go any further.”
“Lines in the sand mean nothing.”
Kerel’s face hardened and he glanced around—first at Silas, then to the wide desert. “I do not want to anger thegods.”
Silas shook his head dismissively. “The Sān gods are weak. That is why their people live in this forsaken place and why every year there are less and less of them. Come on. We’re wastingtime.”
“Oshikombo oshigoya,” Kerel muttered under his breath.Stupid goat. Then he got back in thetruck.
Silas hit the accelerator, but the engine immediately stalled. He turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. No cranking of the starter, no click of a dying battery.
