A sneaky peek at Edge of Dawn

Being a big fan of sneek peeks, especially inside boks I really want to know more about before I buy, I thought I'd do the same for my books starting with Edge of Dawn which can be downloaded at http://www.amazon.co.uk/Edge-Dawn-African-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00DENT4YS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1458515682&sr=8-1&keywords=hashmi+gor

Chapter 1

He picked up the small ordinary looking stone and stared at it with reverence. It shone dully and although it looked like any other of the myriad of stones littering the ground at his feet, it seemed to pick up the little bit of sunlight filtering down through the small hole and multiply it into a thousand rays deep in its centre. He glanced over his shoulder surreptitiously at the armed guard standing a few feet away, making sure he was looking in a different direction before pocketing the stone.

He had been working at this mine for the past few weeks and had squirreled away at least two stones without being caught. This was by far the largest so far and he intended to have it for himself. The security around the complex was stringent and rivaled the systems within most high security jails, with good reason. Jails simply kept humans in; here the priority was the stones, human life was dispensable.

As the hours wore on, he moved further and further away from the guard. When he was shielded by several other workers and was hidden from direct view by a natural stone outcrop he bent down, pushing the cuff of his trouser leg high up. He pulled out the sharp knife he carried and ran the tip along the edge of an old scar, gritting his teeth as the well-honed edge sliced open a two millimeter thick flap of skin at his calf. His legs were riddled with similar scars, his ticket out of this godforsaken place.

He was careful not to draw too much blood that could easily be detected. Taking the stone he slipped it into the open wound, biting down savagely on the cry of agony as it scrapped against the raw flesh. He quickly pulled out a rusty nail that had been split in half and sharpened to a point to make it thinner and started sewing the wound closed with the cotton thread he had tied to the end. Within a few seconds he had closed the wound, and rubbed some soil over it to disguise the redness and the thread holding the lips together. He stood to his full height just as a cold metal object was pressed against his neck. He didn’t have to turn around to know that the guard’s finger was inches away from the trigger.

‘What are you doing?’ the man asked in a thick African dialect. The muzzle of the AK-47 rifle pressed painfully against his neck. He knew it would leave an ugly bruise.

He shrugged carefully, making sure he didn’t move suddenly, the guard wasn’t going to take any chances. If he thought his safety was in jeopardy he wouldn’t think twice about pulling the trigger. ‘I was tired and a stone hurt my leg, I was just checking it,’ he replied plaintively.

The guard frowned and refused to pull the gun back an inch as he thought this over. ‘Get back to work you lazy dog!’ he spat out finally and shoved the man forward forcefully, making him stagger several paces.

Regaining his balance the worker picked up his tools and started digging again. Once the guard was sure the workers in this section were all busy he strolled away, casually holding his gun. At the end of the day the workers were finally allowed to leave the mine, climbing the rickety old ladder to the surface, their eyes squinting painfully as the sudden sunshine hit them. Heavily armed guards surrounded them as soon as they appeared and were led to the centre of the ground as another group of workers were escorted to the mine by more armed guards. One of the guards strode forward, his AK-47 slung over his back as he moved from man to man patting them down to make sure they hadn’t concealed any stones in their threadbare clothes. When he was satisfied he made them all strip naked.

The guards walked up and down the line of workers, eyeing them closely, occasionally making a rude joke at their expense. Most of the workers looked straight ahead not bothering to listen to the guards. They were all lean men, most standing well over six feet in height, several boasting scars over most of their bodies. Suddenly one of the guards stopped in front of a young man, a new recruit. He grabbed the youth’s skinny right arm and inspected it carefully. He was staring at a fairly new wound that was still oozing fluid that dripped down the length of the arm.

Without preamble the guard dragged the boy forward so that the other workers could see him plainly. He pulled out an ugly looking blade, something a butcher may use, and sliced the wound open. The high-pitched scream shattered the air as blood gushed out of the wound. The guard seemed deaf to his pain and dug his finger into the opening, probing deeply, causing the boy to slump to the ground in agony. Two other guards moved forward and held him up. A second later and the guard who had slit the wound lifted his hand, a bloodied stone clutched in his fingers, a triumphant smile on his thick lips. The youth was breathing fast, still whimpering from the pain. The other workers kept staring straight ahead, none of them willing to help their comrade for fear of their lives.

‘You see, you cannot hide from me!’ crowed the guard as he continued to hold the stone high. He glared at the workers before turning his eyes on the youth who had finally got to terms with the pain and was now bravely standing up, still supported by the guards on either side, his arm still bleeding onto the ground.

He looked defiantly at the guard. In return the guard smiled, it was a cruel smile and the other workers all knew what was coming and tensed slightly. They had seen this too many times, yet it still affected them deeply. Without warning the guard un-slung his gun and smashed the heavy butt into the boy’s face, breaking his nose with a sharp crack. The boy reeled backwards and would have fallen if the guards hadn’t held him. He slumped forward as his legs folded under him, blood gushing from his nose and mouth.

Not letting him regain his breath the guard started raining blows across his shoulders and arms, before slamming the gun into his torso. The only thing the others heard was a desperate gurgling as the boy tried to scream out in agony. The beating finally ceased and the guard lifted the boy’s head up by his hair and surveyed his handiwork with pride. The boy’s face was simply a bloody mush, his eyes swollen shut, his lips bruised with blood still coursing down his chin from his bleeding nose.

‘This is what happens to thieves here,’ the guard growled and threw the boy’s head back down to rest against his chest. He looked around at the rest of the workers. ‘Let this be a lesson to all of you.’ He slung the gun forward, pointing the barrel at the youth’s head and pulled the trigger.

Chapter 2

‘When are you planning on getting married? Anytime soon?!’

Every Indian mother’s plea and eventually command. Muskaan’s mother was no different. Modern and intelligent but still harboring the time honored worries of matrimony. The Bajajs were an influential family living in a suburb of Nairobi, the busy cosmopolitan city of Kenya.

‘If you don’t start looking soon, we’ll do it for you, and who knows what crab-faced boy we’ll find!’ she added mischievously, sneaking a glance at her motionless daughter who was sitting on the sofa reading.

This attack brought her head up and smiling she returned, ‘I highly doubt your choice would be that bad. But I can’t vouch for my dad. Heaven help him if he tries to marry me to a traditional Indian guy!’

‘You know I wouldn’t let him, but still, when do you plan on looking around?’

‘I am looking! It’s not my fault that no one I look at is eligible!’ Muskaan rolled her eyes and returned to her book thoughtfully. Men like Darcy just did not exist and if they did then they were certainly well hidden!

Muskaan was twenty-three years old and was at present a wildlife ranger and guide at the Masaai Mara Reserve in Kenya. She had just returned home a few days ago to relax and enjoy the family before her next trip with a large group of tourists. She had been in the job for two years now and her love for the animals had not waned an iota. On the contrary it had increased. She was one of the youngest rangers and had already earned respect from the locals and her colleagues.

‘Mr. Shekhar was asking after you. You know he owns the shop in the mall. He mentioned his sons. One is in law school in England, another is starting Medicine and the third is still at school. He asked what you were doing now. I told him you were now a ranger with the Kenyan wildlife service,’ her mother maintained a sober face as she continued sewing. ‘If you want I’ll talk to him.’

Muskaan shrugged lightly, this was a game they played often. ‘If you want to talk to him, I really can’t stop you!!’

‘You know what I mean!! About you!”

‘That depends…did he mention how handsome they are, or how rich or their future prospects? I really don’t want a pauper for a husband. I mean, how will he support my expensive obsession with diamonds, champagne and roses?!’

Sonia Bajaj burst out laughing. ‘You are too much!! So we have now upped the stakes. He must be a handsome millionaire and mimic Mr Darcy to perfection!!’

‘Absolutely! He must be perfect. And since that can only be possible if I am perfect, which is far from the truth, let’s conclude that he does not exist and so marriage is off the cards at present.’

Having finished her sewing Sonia left the room, shaking her head at her daughter’s reply.

The family consisted of Muskaan’s parents and her younger sister. Her mother’s parents lived in a bungalow down the quiet street, which resulted in the two families spending a lot of time together. Occasional visits from their son, Ray, his wife, Neela and their children made the larger family re-unions frequent and short but by no means sweet.

Granny loved cooking traditional Indian recipes, one of her hobbies, which the entire family was grateful for. Ray was the life of the party wherever he went and due to the few years in age between himself and Muskaan, they tried to maintain a relationship akin to siblings.

His father, Muskaan’s grandfather, the head of the family circle, was respected and none of his children dared defy him. This did not include wrapping him around fingers – inevitably male in origin, big or small. These small fingers belonged to Muskaan’s two cousins. Small little destructive demons released from hell on good behaviour, against which childproof doors didn’t stand a chance. There was one glimmer of hope; one fail-proof solution, which often saved the family dogs from premature balding, or the impromptu demolition of carefully decorated rooms; Muskaan’s mother. A strong, dependable woman who’s sharp look and stern word quickly dissolved all the mist surrounding the children’s brains hence preventing bloodshed at the hands of Sonia.

The delegation of baby-sitting during these meetings inevitably fell on Gia’s slim shoulders, Muskaan’s younger sister of ten. Although this arrangement was designed to keep all the kids out of trouble, it usually ended with the adults joining forces against the rebel duo, with Gia trying her utmost to keep control, before losing all sense of angelic duty and re-joining her wayward kin.

Through this entire fiasco, Ray’s wife Neela, would stand agape, eventually trying ineffectually to control her sons, who by that time would have been reprimanded roundly by their aunt and their father. All this scolding rarely made an ounce of difference; the sting would be rapidly soothed by Neela’s instant cooing.

Today the entire family had gathered for lunch and as Muskaan watched, the same set of events unfolded as though scripted by a terrible director.

‘Gia look after the boys. Muskaan could you help her while we do the dishes?’ Granny asked, while handing Neela some more dishes from the table.

Muskaan smiled through gritted teeth, nodded and with Gia herded the punch-throwing boys to a safe secluded area of the large walled garden before turning on them with eyes flashing dangerously, ‘Don’t even think about messing up again. One word out of you and it’ll be straight to your dad.’

This effectively immobilized them for a few seconds before they spotted an unwary frog jumping along the garden wall. Gia sighed theatrically, ‘That’s the end of that frog. God bless him!!’

Shaking her head Muskaan started walking towards the swing at the other end of the garden past the ancient trees and rosebushes. From the swing they could keep one eye on the boys and the other on the front door of the house.

Gia was still watching the boys who were now holding the fated frog upside-down, ‘I wish they would stop!! Boys are disgusting!!’

‘Maybe you should go save that poor creature.’

Gia rolled her eyes and after a few moments pondering the risks she moved forward quickly, just as the boys started to fight over their prize.

‘Stop that!! The poor frog!!’ She screeched to a halt beside the boys and tried to talk some sense into their malfunctioning brains. This ploy was doomed to failure.

Muskaan sighed and walked silently towards the trio, coming up behind them she suddenly bellowed, ‘Look out!! Uncle Ray is coming from the house and mum’s right behind him!!’

A wild shriek of terror and the frog was free. Granted he was now in mid-air, cart-wheeling straight for the ground at a suicidal pace, but he was free. Luckily the dark springy head of one of the boys broke his fall. Having regained his composure he hurriedly leapt to safety.

The boys though were far from feeling safe and had started running towards the opposite end of the garden as the door opened and Sonia poked her head out broom in hand.

‘What’s all the noise about?’

‘Oh…nothing mum, the boys just got scared seeing a frog,’ Muskaan smiled disarmingly. Sonia lifted her brows in mock wonder and then smiled knowingly before returning to the kitchen.

The boys were now speeding around the garden amidst the tall mango trees, shrieking like banshees and scaring the birds into disorganized flight, when Sonia, Neela and Gran emerged from the house. Gran was desperately trying to keep up a failing conversation with her daughter-in-law, while Sonia reluctantly provided the thread of sense holding it all together. She motioned to the girls as they came up.

‘We are going for a walk, want to come?’

‘Oh yes!!’ Both girls agreed immediately. Anything was better than babysitting the rascals.

‘Uncle Ray can look after the boys,’ Muskaan volunteered.

Her mother smiled and called through the open door to her brother. ‘We are leaving now. The girls are coming too. Better look out for the boys!!’

‘Why not take them with you?’ Ray having torn himself from the T.V came to the front door scowling.

‘Because the road is not safe and they will not hold our hands,’ retorted his sister flipping her hair over her shoulder before following the rest of the party.

This obviously was not a good enough reason for him, and they heard him yelling at the children to be quiet with resignation.

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. You can get the book on Amazon by clicking http://www.amazon.co.uk/Edge-Dawn-African-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00DENT4YS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1458515682&sr=8-1&keywords=hashmi+gor

If you enjoyed it, I would love it if you took the time and wrote a short review about it. Look out for more sneek peeks coming soon!