The Covenant of Genesis_A Novel

by Andy McDermott

  “Or our spines. So how far have we left to go?”

  Chase swapped the Veteres map for a considerably more recent representation of the area. “About a hundred miles.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “Over this terrain? No way we’ll get there today. We’ll have to camp for the night.”

  “And we only have one tent,” Sophia said with a playful smile. “Cozy.”

  “One tent and one truck,” he reminded her. “I’m not bloody telling Nina that I slept with my ex-wife.”

  “Your loss. Do you have a preference, or shall we toss for them?”

  “You can have the tent.”

  “Then you can put it up. What?” she said as Chase shook his head in exasperation. “You got to choose where to sleep. It only seems fair.” She looked into the truck. “And what about the guns?”

  “They’ll be sleeping with me,” he said firmly. As well as the truck and some survival gear, they had been furnished with a pair of weapons: a battered Browning High Power automatic that Chase guessed was a couple of decades older than he was, and an even more ancient Lee-Enfield rifle, its wooden body chipped and scarred, that almost certainly dated back to the Second World War.

  “Yes, I thought they might be.” She smirked. “Sleeping with something cold, hard, inflexible, with awkward knobbly protrusions … it’ll be as if you’ve got Nina back.”

  “Har fucking har. Just for that, you can put up your own tent.” Ignoring her look of displeasure, he gathered up the sheets of paper and got back into the Land Cruiser. “Coming?”

  “A long journey through a hot desert over awful terrain in a truck with worn-out suspension to spend the night in a tent? I can’t wait.” She climbed in and slammed the door.

  They picked their way northwest for hours, slowing over the harsh, rocky plains littered with sharp stones that threatened to rip through the Land Cruiser’s tires, then speeding up to avoid getting bogged down in mile after mile of soft sand. Despite Chase’s best efforts, they still had to stop and dig themselves out a couple of times, further slowing their progress. By the time the sun neared the horizon, the Land Cruiser’s odometer told him that they had barely covered two-thirds of the distance to their destination.

  The sunset itself was something to behold, though. The dust and sand in the air turned the western sky a lurid, dripping-blood red, swaths of orange running through it as though the heavens had caught fire. “Look at that,” Chase said. “That’s a hell of a sunset. Wish we’d brought the camera.”

  “This isn’t going to become your new ‘night sky in Algeria’ story, is it?” Sophia yawned. Chase spotted a rock poking from the sand and swerved the Land Cruiser so that the wheels on her side slammed over it, jolting her hard. “Ow! Did you do that on purpose?”

  “Don’t be daft,” said Chase, suppressing a smile as he looked back at the splendor of the setting sun.

  He spotted something else, though: a column of black smoke rising into the sky two or three miles away. “Soph, check the map—the proper one. Were there any villages near the route we’re taking?”

  She had seen the smoke too, and consulted the map. “Not for a long way. Are you off course?”

  “Don’t see how; I’ve been following the compass.” He tapped the compass ball attached to the dashboard, which showed them to be heading northwest. Looking at the distant smoke, he saw a second column starting to rise beside it. “We’d better take a look.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Sophia asked, her tone making it clear she thought it was not.

  “There’s not supposed to be anyone out here. Someone might be in trouble.”

  “Which is hardly our problem. And if it’s the Janjaweed?”

  “Then I want to know where they are before they know where we are.” He aimed the Land Cruiser toward the smoke.

  Fifteen minutes later, Chase stopped the truck. They were close to the base of a rocky rise. The smoke was coming from the other side, more dark stalks having sprouted during the drive. He wound down the window, listened for a moment, then took both guns from the back seat. “Come on.”

  “What is it?” Sophia asked as he got out.

  “I heard shouting. Keep your voice down, and stay low.” He clambered up the shadowed face of the dune. Sophia followed.

  The shouts became clearer as they approached the low summit. Men, the yelling of a mob. And others cutting through it, higher-pitched: the screams of women.

  And children.

  Chase crawled the last few feet to peer over the top of the dune. “Shit,” he hissed when he saw what lay below.

  He’d seen similar scenes in different countries: Afghanistan, Iraq, half a dozen others where the rules of civilization had been broken down by war. Beyond the dune was a rocky hollow, a small pool of rancid water at its heart, around which had been built a pathetic collection of shelters. A makeshift village, a camp for refugees fleeing the violence in Darfur, to the west. A few dozen people at most, most of them women and children, trying to find safety.

  They had failed.

  The shelters were on fire, bodies strewn around them. Some had been shot, but most had been hacked down by machetes, or simply bludgeoned to death with clubs and rifle butts. Some of their attackers were on horseback, circling the doomed encampment and forcing back those of the dwindling group of survivors who tried to flee, laughing and shouting abuse as they rode to block the victims’ escape and strike at them.

  Those who had dismounted were in groups, three or four to each of the refugee women. They too were laughing, egging one another on.

  Chase watched, a seething rage rising, as one of the women was thrown to the ground, the men holding her down and ripping away her clothes. She screamed, begging for mercy that would never be given as the Janjaweed leader, a man in a white head scarf and aviator shades, tugged at his own clothing, belt flapping from his waist. More laughter, a cheer from the others as the screams rose into hysteria.

  Chase brought the rifle to his shoulder, locking the crosshairs on the back of the man’s head—

  Sophia shoved the barrel down. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “The world a favor,” he replied angrily. “Let go of the gun.”

  “There must be fifteen of them, and they’ve all got AKs. If they realize we’re here, they’ll kill us.”

  “We’ll see how many I get first.”

  “This isn’t your fight, Eddie. We have to find Eden before the Covenant. And we’ve got no chance of doing that if the Janjaweed know we’re here.” She looked him in the eyes. “You want to save Nina? Then we need a bargaining chip we can use against the Covenant. Being a white knight here will get us killed, and it will get her killed.”

  Chase’s face tightened with fury … but he lowered the gun. “Fuck!”

  Below, the screaming woman managed to pull one arm free, flailing it in panic—and knocking off her attacker’s sunglasses. The men holding her laughed mockingly, but the attacker punched her brutally in the face once, twice, blood spurting from her mouth and nose—then pulled back, drawing a gun and shooting her twice in the chest. He adjusted his clothing, picked up his sunglasses, and spat on the corpse.

  The group moved on to another woman.

  Sophia was already sliding back down the slope. “We should go,” she said. “Wait for them to leave—and hope they’re not going the same way as us.”

  “They’d fucking well better not be,” he growled as he descended after her.

  Behind him, the screams stopped, one by one.

  The horsemen led the convoy of vehicles through the empty desert. The sun was a fat, shimmering semicircle on the horizon by the time they stopped. Nina saw on the Humvee’s GPS screen that they were still at least thirty miles from the possible location of Eden, but the break in the journey was being called by their escorts.

  They had arrived at the Janjaweed’s camp.

  Nina watched nervously through the tinted window of armored glass as
the five vehicles pulled into a circle like a wagon train. There were at least fifty men in the camp, mostly young, all with the same predatory eyes as the horsemen as they watched the 4×4s come to a stop in their midst. The Janjaweed had trucks of their own, though they were the antithesis of the military vehicles in terms of sophistication—half a dozen “technicals,” elderly pickups stripped to the bone with machine guns affixed to mounts welded into the rear beds.

  Zamal was the first out of the Humvees, the waiting horsemen now joined by a man Nina assumed was the group’s leader. White head scarf, mirrored sunglasses, AK-47 over his shoulder and a machete across his back … and a face of cold, merciless stone. After a minute of discussion, Zamal gestured for the vehicles’ other occupants to emerge.

  Nina was even more reluctant than before to do so, but she had little choice. “This is Hamed,” said Zamal of the Janjaweed leader. “He and his men will escort us to where we are going tomorrow. But tonight we are their guests. We are invited to share their shelter.”

  “Thank him for his generosity,” said Callum, sarcasm creeping into his voice. Nina could see why; the collection of shabby, patched-up tents looked anything but inviting. “But we brought our own tents. Thank God,” he added under his breath.

  “He also invites us to join them for their evening meal. Hamed has just returned from a successful mission, and wants us to share in the celebrations. Especially you, Dr. Wilde. He is particularly keen for you to join him.” Behind Zamal, Hamed’s face showed expression for the first time: a sadistic lust.

  “I’d rather sit in the Humvee’s trunk and eat dog food,” she said.

  Zamal smirked. “It can be arranged.”

  To Nina’s surprise, Vogler came to her defense. “It would be best if Dr. Wilde were kept apart from our … hosts. To avoid any unfortunate incidents.” The two Covenant leaders stared at each other, an unspoken challenge.

  “A shame,” said Zamal after a moment. “The Janjaweed will be disappointed not to have the pleasure of her company.”

  “I don’t want to be a part of any kind of pleasure these guys have,” Nina said in revulsion.

  “Nor do I,” Vogler told her. He issued orders to his men. They unpacked large quick-erect tents, kicking aside stones and deadwood in the wide circle formed by the parked Humvees to make space for the dome-shaped shelters.

  Zamal turned back to Hamed, apparently telling him that he would be having one guest fewer for dinner. The Janjaweed leader scowled before launching into a discussion of something else … but his eyes never wavered from Nina.

  Despite the heat, she shivered.

  “Well, shit,” muttered Chase, scanning the firelit encampment through the rifle scope.

  “What is it?” Sophia asked from beside him. It was night; they lay just below the crest of a low dune, observing the activity in the distance.

  “It’s not just the Janjaweed. I don’t think they could afford five new Humvees.”

  After returning to the Land Cruiser and driving a safe distance from the ravaged refugee camp, they had waited to see in which direction the Janjaweed left. With a certain inevitability, they had gone northwest—the direction in which Chase and Sophia needed to head.

  Chase had waited longer to give the horsemen time to open up the gap between them, then followed on a parallel course, hoping to skirt them before night fell. But then he saw more smoke silhouetted against the dying light of the dusk sky—ahead of them. A Janjaweed camp. They would have patrols watching the desert, so the Land Cruiser’s lights would be spotted from miles away if he tried to drive around it—and driving without lights in this terrain was a recipe for disaster.

  “The Covenant?”

  “It’s not tourists, that’s for bloody sure.” He panned across the camp, seeing horses, pickup trucks, tents, far too many armed men for his liking … and a familiar face. “Ay up,” he muttered. “It’s the Covenant all right. There’s Zamal—and he’s talking to that rapist fucker from the refugee camp.”

  “Well, that’s marvelous,” said Sophia. “You know what Nina’s done, don’t you? She’s given the Covenant the directions to bloody Eden!”

  “She can’t have done,” Chase said defensively. “She didn’t know. Not accurately enough.”

  “She didn’t need to. She saw the general location in Antarctica. If we could figure it out from modern maps, so could they.”

  “She wouldn’t have helped them,” he insisted.

  “Then they tortured it out of her, if that makes you feel any better. But it doesn’t change the fact that they’re here. Even if they don’t know the exact location, they’ve got enough manpower to search the desert until they find it. Damn it!”

  “We can still beat ’em,” said Chase, continuing to scan the encampment. More Janjaweed men, pushing the number to over fifty, sitting in groups around the fires; Covenant troopers in desert camo; dome tents inside the circle formed by the Humvees—

  “Buggeration and fuckery,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  He adjusted the focus, picking out some very familiar red hair through the half-open flap of one tent. “They’ve got Nina.”

  “She’s there?” Sophia said in disbelief. “They actually brought her with them?”

  “They must need her to work out where Eden is.” He shifted the sights, pinpointing her exact position.

  “Or,” Sophia countered, “she made a deal with them. Her life for the location of Eden.”

  Chase glared at her. “She’d never do that.”

  “Are you sure? For all she knows, you’re dead. She might have thought she had nothing else left.”

  “Bullshit,” Chase snapped, looking back through the sight. There were a couple of Covenant men patrolling inside the circle of Humvees … and more Janjaweed on the outside, the two sides regarding each other with clear mutual suspicion. He surveyed the camp’s perimeter. Away from the fires, everything was in flickering shadow.

  He sat up and handed the rifle to the surprised Sophia. “Here.”

  “You’re giving me a gun?” she asked, as if expecting some trick.

  “Yeah. I need you to cover me.” He had donned his black leather jacket when the temperature fell after nightfall; now he removed it and gave it to Sophia as well. For what he was planning, he couldn’t allow the creak of leather to give him away.

  “Why?”

  “’Cause I’m going to rescue Nina.”

  “From there? There must be at least sixty men!”

  “Not for long.” He drew the Browning. “I’m going to get a knife from the truck; then I’m going in.”

  Sophia shook her head. “Do you seriously think you can just stroll in there, get Nina, and walk back out without anyone noticing?”

  “No. I don’t.” He flicked off the automatic’s safety. “Let’s start the violence.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  Chase crept across the sand, hunched low. He had watched the camp from the dune long enough to get an idea of the routes of any patrols—and their attitudes to their job.

  Both were sloppy. There were only two men strolling the perimeter, clearly bored and annoyed at missing out on the loud, macho camaraderie going on around the fires. They didn’t expect anyone else to be out here. Even obvious hiding places—behind rocks, among gnarled and scrubby bushes—were being ignored.

  Their loss.

  Chase dropped into a dip, lying flat as he heard plodding footsteps pass. Raising his head, he saw one of the guards heading away, spending more time looking longingly toward the fires than into the darkness of the desert. Nobody in the direction the man had just come from. Chase crawled along the shallow ditch until he reached a long-dead bush, and lay behind it. The nearest tent was about fifty feet away, a pair of horses tethered beside it.

  One of the Janjaweed came around the tent—and walked toward Chase.

  Chase very slowly lifted his gun. Even in the low light the man would be able to pick out sudden movements.

  The
guard was still advancing, one hand hovering near his holstered pistol. Had he seen the Englishman? Chase couldn’t imagine how, but he was striding right for the bush. He brought the Browning up, ready to fire.

  The man stopped, less than six feet from him, only the twisted branches of the bush between them. He looked down …

  And opened his fly.

  Chase forced himself not to flinch away from the spray as the man unleashed a splattering stream of urine onto the bush. Which just kept coming. How much had the bastard drunk?

  Finally, the torrent eased off … then started again, a second wind before it finally trickled to nothing. The man made a satisfied sound, then fastened himself up and turned away. By now, the other guard had come around the camp; the two men exchanged a few words before the urinater went back to join his fellows and the patrol trudged on.

  Chase wiped his face disgustedly, then peered around the bush. Pisso’s little excursion would work to his advantage: he could follow the new set of tracks straight into the camp without the guards wondering where they had come from.

  He waited for both men to move out of sight, then quickly crossed the sands to the nearest tent. He was uncomfortably aware as he traversed the open space that Sophia was almost certainly tracking him through the rifle scope—if for any reason she decided that he had outlived his usefulness to her, he could be dead before he even heard the crack of the Lee-Enfield.

  But he reached his destination. Glancing around the tent, he saw the circle of Humvees not far away. He also saw reflections of flames in their windows; they were close to one of the Janjaweed campfires.

  Giving the horses a wide berth in case his presence spooked them, he hurried to another tent, then into cover between two of the parked technicals. One of them, a Toyota Hilux pickup, was missing its cab. The bent stubs of metal poking up from behind the gaps where the doors had once been suggested that it had rolled over at some point, and rather than waste a still-working engine the Janjaweed had simply sawn off the flattened roof. He glanced inside, seeing the key still in the ignition—with a plastic Hello Kitty key ring dangling from it. He almost smiled at the incongruity, then moved to the front of the truck.