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Page 40.

Chapter 9. Coast of Skeletons

What a strange and beautiful world, Tim thought as he made his way along the eerie coast that might be from some other age, perhaps even some other planet.

Camels trundled majestically on a distant scrub ridge hazed with mist. Beer-yellow evening haze thickened along the coast, while fierce sun still beat down inland. The tide was going out, and beach sand glowed like molten gold.

To the left rose a wall of black night, quickly enveloping Africa as the continent spun away from the sun. In the final half hour of daylight, the sea itself seemed on fire, and the sun resembled a tomato sinking into an atmosphere of colorful vegetable juice. Of course that is thirst talking, Tim thought with a faint little grin.

He picked his way over sand packed around the protruding ribs of a long-dead wooden ship, maybe an old whaler from the last century, or some Arab dhow. A while later, he walked past an elephant’s huge skull that lay alien and staring in the sand. Its magnificent tusks lay crossed like an x, and the empty eye sockets looked haunted.

Now he could see the structure toward which he’d been walking. He could see from a distance that it was a ruined tower, and there wasn’t a human being in sight—a disappointment to be sure, but maybe a blessing in that he wasn’t sure who owned this area. He knew vaguely that all the major European colonial powers had historic claims in this general area, but his knowledge of African geography was embarrassingly scant. Was he anywhere near the colony of former American slaves, Liberia? Or British Gambia? French Morocco or Togoland or Mauritania? Spanish Sahara? He’d give anything for a map.

Night fell as he traversed the last quarter mile. The full moon lay low on the horizon now, brighter than ever against a starry night sky. He could have enjoyed this, were it not for the grinding thirst that sandpapered his tongue and made his palate burn as if a razor blade had made fine cuts in it.

The gun dangled heavily. He felt a cold wind starting to blow from the desert as dusk neared. He made his way to the tower ruin. He heard something in the desert—a motor! It sounded as if someone was testing a motorcycle. What a strange thing to do, so far away from civilization.

The desert sent its odd smells too, and he caught a whiff of something rank.

The ruined tower stood out bone-white in the eerie moonlight.