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The Great Unmaking

Blackstone Publishingerschienen am01.07.2023
A propulsive, mind-expanding thriller-and the world-shaking conclusion to the Course of Empire trilogy-about bold scientific dreams turning into nightmares ... or perhaps new beginnings ...

After usurping control of the world's most powerful military technology, General Chip Walden knows the endgame is near and tasks scientist Eric Hill with one final assignment. Helped by the love of his life, Jane Hunter, Hill is haunted by premonitions of a coming catastrophe as the technology he created takes on a life of its own.

As Hill attempts to avert disaster, FBI Special Agent Bud Brown seeks revenge for the murder of his fellow agents by eco-terrorist Riona Finley. But what no one realizes is that forces are at work that have already decided humanity's fate. With the clock ticking toward an irrevocable apocalypse, it's no longer a question of if the world can be saved, but who will be the chosen few that survive.

The Great Unmaking is the grand conclusion to Brian Nelson's magisterial trilogy that James Rollins has called 'a must-read adventure.'



Brian Nelson is a former Fulbright Scholar who holds degrees in international relations, economics, and creative writing (fiction). His first book, The Silence and the Scorpion: The Coup against Chávez and the Making of Modern Venezuela, was named one of the Best Books of 2009 by The Economist. His second book, The Last Sword Maker, was a number one Amazon bestseller in the thriller genre and launched the successful Course of Empire series. His work has appeared in the Virginia Quarterly Review, Christian Science Monitor, and the Southern Humanities Review, among others. He lives in Colorado with his wife and two children.mehr

Produkt

KlappentextA propulsive, mind-expanding thriller-and the world-shaking conclusion to the Course of Empire trilogy-about bold scientific dreams turning into nightmares ... or perhaps new beginnings ...

After usurping control of the world's most powerful military technology, General Chip Walden knows the endgame is near and tasks scientist Eric Hill with one final assignment. Helped by the love of his life, Jane Hunter, Hill is haunted by premonitions of a coming catastrophe as the technology he created takes on a life of its own.

As Hill attempts to avert disaster, FBI Special Agent Bud Brown seeks revenge for the murder of his fellow agents by eco-terrorist Riona Finley. But what no one realizes is that forces are at work that have already decided humanity's fate. With the clock ticking toward an irrevocable apocalypse, it's no longer a question of if the world can be saved, but who will be the chosen few that survive.

The Great Unmaking is the grand conclusion to Brian Nelson's magisterial trilogy that James Rollins has called 'a must-read adventure.'



Brian Nelson is a former Fulbright Scholar who holds degrees in international relations, economics, and creative writing (fiction). His first book, The Silence and the Scorpion: The Coup against Chávez and the Making of Modern Venezuela, was named one of the Best Books of 2009 by The Economist. His second book, The Last Sword Maker, was a number one Amazon bestseller in the thriller genre and launched the successful Course of Empire series. His work has appeared in the Virginia Quarterly Review, Christian Science Monitor, and the Southern Humanities Review, among others. He lives in Colorado with his wife and two children.
Details
Weitere ISBN/GTIN9781538507834
ProduktartE-Book
EinbandartE-Book
FormatEPUB
Erscheinungsjahr2023
Erscheinungsdatum01.07.2023
Seiten100 Seiten
SpracheEnglisch
Dateigrösse3658
Artikel-Nr.11338736
Rubriken
Genre9200

Inhalt/Kritik

Leseprobe



Chapter One

The Curse

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 or Hoodia cacti.

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 SÄn 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 the road.

Kerel banged on the roof for Silas to stop. Silas cursed in annoyance but complied.

The sign read, danger. go back!

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 the gods.

Silas shook his head dismissively. The SÄn 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 wasting time.

Oshikombo oshigoya, Kerel muttered under his breath. Stupid goat. Then he got back in the truck.

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.

He tried once more. Nothing.

He smacked the wheel in frustration. It was an old truck, but it rarely failed to start.

He glanced back at the others. Kerel raised his eyebrows in an expression that said, I told you so.

It s just flooded, Silas called out. We ll give it a few minutes . . . it will be fine. Not wanting to look at the others, he focused his attention out his side window. The vultures had settled back on the carcass, and were picking and tearing at it once more. There wasn t much left, but Silas guessed it had been a springbok, judging by the small rib cage and the bits of tan fur.

He tried the ignition again. Still nothing.

With a curse, he got out and raised the hood. The other two men joined him. A half hour later nothing had changed.

A SÄn witch doctor has put a hex on this land, Kerel said.

Don t be ridiculous! Silas spat. He looked around, refusing to accept defeat. It was only 180 meters to the first cluster of trees. If they could kill just one rhino, he could buy another truck and still have thousands to spare. Get your things! he said as he went to the truck bed and grabbed his rifle and gear. We re going on foot.

Kerel and Charles exchanged a skeptical glance, then reluctantly obeyed.

Silas began marching up the road, but as he walked by the sign, a sudden nausea came over him. He stopped for a moment and the pain subsided.

Suddenly there was a clamor as the vultures took flight, all of them hissing and croaking at once.

Standing in the truck bed, Charles called out: Look!

Silas turned to see the strangest thing. The carcass of the springbok was disappearing before their eyes. Ribs, fur, scraps of organs and muscles were simply vanishing. He stared in astonishment. He thought he saw a light haze over the ground there, then it too disappeared.

Kerel and Charles began to murmur amongst themselves, something about the spirit of the dead.

Come on! Silas yelled. Stop stalling.

But the two men stayed rooted to the truck bed.

Disgusted, Silas turned and marched on, but a new wave of nausea struck him. He gasped but refused to stop. The next step brought a splitting pain to his head and all the muscles in his neck squeezed and began to cramp. He gritted his teeth and took another step. Now the pain in his stomach seemed to triple and he couldn t help but cry out.

But he refused to go back. He looked down at his legs and willed them forward, but as soon as his right knee rose, he collapsed to the ground, his rifle falling into the sandy dirt. His whole body was racked with pain and his headache was so intense that it was difficult to think. There seemed to be a voice talking to him, whispering in his ear. Go back. Only pain lies ahead.

Determined, he reached for his gun, but as he did so his bladder and bowels let go. With a loud fart, he defecated in his pants and urine ran hot down his thighs.

Help me! he called out.

Kerel and Charles jumped down from the truck and rushed to help, but both stopped at the invisible threshold of the sign. They motioned to him. Come back!

But Silas was now overwhelmed with the pain. Please, he shouted.

Charles and Kerel nodded to each other and stepped forward. Charles stopped instantly and grabbed at his stomach. Yet Kerel felt no pain.

Kerel looked from one man to the other: Silas on his hands and knees, one hand on his rifle. Charles doubled over, his rifle still strapped over his shoulder,

The SÄn gods can see us, he thought.

He grabbed the rifle from Charles and felt the nausea attack his own stomach. But as soon as he d cast the gun aside the pain subsided.

Charles stood up straight, and Kerel put his hand on his shoulder.

Better?

Yes.

Together they picked up Silas, each grabbing an arm and a leg, scrunching up their noses at the smell, and carried him to the bed of the pickup.

At the wheel, Kerel tried the engine. This time it turned over. He put it in reverse and hit the gas. The Toyota leapt backward, spitting up gravel that pinged and clanged against the undercarriage. He turned the truck around and pushed the pedal all the way to the floor. The truck picked up speed and soon they were bouncing madly over the rugged terrain as they sped back toward the village, Kerel struggling to keep it on the road, but not daring to take his foot off the accelerator.

He glanced into the rearview mirror and saw Silas rolling around in agony in the truck bed.

The handmade sign that marked the SÄn territory was fading into the distance.

Kerel nodded to himself. He d been right again-the SÄn gods were powerful once more.

On the patch of road where the men had stopped, one of the vultures landed and hobbled cautiously up to the two rifles lying in the dust. He gave a curious peck at one, then the wood and metal dissolved into nothing.

Seven miles away, a fourteen-year-old boy jogged lightly along a sandy trail, a hunting spear in one hand, an AK-47 rifle in the other. He was dressed in nothing but a buckskin loin cloth and his coppery-gold skin seemed to meld with the colors of the desert around him. He was lithe and agile, moving quickly and gracefully up a broad hill, his feet knowing where to fall on the trail.

He was about two miles from the SÄn camp, returning from a scouting mission. Six weeks earlier, a...

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