The Serene Invasion Read Online Free PDF Page A

are cowards. Typical Yemenis.” He spat something at them in Arabic.
    Dazed, Ali backed from the chopping block until he fetched up against the wall, the sword dangling in his grip.
    On the floor, Ben timorously looked up. He raised himself so that he was kneeling, and stared at his tormentors with nascent hope on his face.
    The Somali swore, surged to his feet and crossed the floor in two strides. Before Sally could cry out in horror at what he was about to do, he raised the gun to Ben’s forehead and pulled the trigger.
    Or attempted to pull the trigger.
    He stood with the pistol connected to Ben’s sweat-beaded forehead, arm outstretched, an expression of ridiculous concentration on his thin face, like an infant attempting to perform a feat beyond his capabilities. He was convulsing, his whole body taken by a violent tremor.
    No matter how hard he tried, the gun would not go off.
    He cursed, flung the pistol aside, and grabbed Ali’s rifle from where it lay on the floor. He swung the gun, inserted his finger into the trigger guard, and aimed at Ben.
    The doctor closed his eyes, his lips moving in silent prayer.
    As if released from paralysis, acting without fully knowing what she was doing, Sally pushed herself across the floor, grabbed the Somali’s discarded pistol and stood quickly.
    She held the weapon at arm’s length, hands trembling, and directed it at the Somali. “Drop the rifle,” she said in a voice that quavered maddeningly.
    The Somali seemed to be caught in indecision. His eyes flicked towards the Arabs, as if seeking orders.
    Ali moved towards her, reaching out.
    Sally lifted the pistol, aimed above his head, and pulled the trigger. This time the weapon fired, deafeningly loud in the confines of the hut. The Arabs flinched and cowered back against the wall. The Somali dropped the rifle and stared at her.
    The bullet had splintered the timbers in the ceiling, and a brilliant shaft of golden sunlight fell through like a spotlight, falling on Ben as he knelt in prayer in the centre of the room.
    “If you move,” she said, aiming at the terrorists, “you die...” Her voice trembled. She said to Ben, “Go out to the truck. See if the keys are in the ignition.”
    Ben rose to his feet and moved slowly, his arms still bound behind his back, and walked towards the door. “Sally...?”
    “Just get out of here!”
    “Sally, don’t shoot them, okay. Just don’t shoot them...”
    He left the hut.
    She said to Ali, “Where are the keys?”
    He licked his lips. “In the...”
    He was interrupted by Ben’s shout. “They’re here.”
    Sally backed to the door, gripping the pistol in her outstretched hands.
    Despite what the three had put her through, Ben’s abjuration to leniency was redundant. She had no desire to exact revenge.
    “If you move,” she said, “I will shoot. Don’t move until we’ve driven away from here.”
    She backed through the door, aiming at the cowering trio all the while, until she came to the truck.
    She cursed Ben silently for not having the engine revving, then remembered that his hands were still tied. She reached behind her with one hand, found the door handle and pulled. Within the hut, the terrorists stood watching her, frozen.
    She slipped into the driver’s seat, expecting them to rush her at any second. Ben was beside her, sitting awkwardly in the passenger seat, knotted hands behind his back. With a surge of adrenaline she lodged the pistol between the dashboard and the windscreen and gunned the engine. The truck bucked, jolted, and surged forward.
    She glanced back at the hut as she turned the truck and accelerated away. There was no sign of Ali or the others.
    Ben said something over the roar of the engine.
    “What?” Sally yelled.
    Ben said, “My prayers were answered, Sally.”
    She looked up, through the windscreen. It was late afternoon, and the sun should have been bright above the distant tree line. All she saw was a diffuse blur where the fiery ball