Hello, Bookaholics, and welcome back as I bring you another cracking book. I did review Paul's book previously on this blog and you can check out my review here. Today, I am honoured to be bringing you an exclusive extract from the book so you can find out why I loved it so much I am devoting two blogs to telling you about it.
Blurb
Extract
It was then that Alban heard two different sounds almost at the same time. In the corner of the clearing a branch snapped. Two round eyes, low to the ground, bounded towards the plastic bags and beer cans, and the form of a large brown bear took shape in the darkness. The bear stopped when it saw them and gave a long, whining growl. Heavy running footsteps and the electronic hiss of a two-way radio came from the stone bridge. Ervin was staring wide-eyed back at Alban. Seconds later, the muscular policeman climbed up on the far edge of the clearing. The bear growled at him and rose up on its hind legs before turning and bolting back into the undergrowth. The policeman fell back out of sight.Alban grasped his sack and plunged into the pine trees until the branches struck his face and knocked him onto his back. Ervin suddenly stood over him looking down.
‘Come on!’ he shouted. ‘Quickly, get going.’ Ervin lifted him by the shoulders. Alban turned and began scrambling forwards on all fours dragging his sack along with him. He could feel Ervin at his heels bumping into him. The stones, twigs and pine cones scratched his forearms and knees as he charged under the tightly interwoven lower branches. He coughed and gasped for breath as the dust came up into his face. He felt two hands grasp his ankles and he spun over to see Ervin being dragged backwards, his hold now released on him.
‘Go – just go. Keep going,’ shouted Ervin. He saw his friend’s eyes widen as his arms flailed and grasped at the rows of trunks. He heard him cry out in pain. Alban turned to look ahead of him, and set off like some spooked forest creature, on and on until he tumbled out of the far edge and down a bank. He got to his feet and sprinted along a narrow track, up onto a rocky knoll, and jumped down into a cleft between two boulders to hide. As his panting for breath began to ease, he wiped the tears and dirt from his cheek. He listened. It was quiet. He waited and could hear no one in pursuit. He lowered his head into his hands and heaved out two sobs. Oh, Uncle Skender, he thought to himself, what have I done?
There was little noise around him except the hum of cicadas and the far-away trickle of water. Then carrying across the still night he heard a voice shout something in Greek and a terrible shriek of pain, and fragments of phrases: ‘No, no ... please ... stop ... don’t ... dog ... you dog.’ He listened again. Ervin cried out. Alban bit his hand as he heard it and closed his eyes. He let his head hang and then he drew his hand under his nose to clean it. He lifted his face slowly, rose out of the rocky cleft and peered around. There was no one. He threw his sack over his shoulder and trod down the knoll. He walked cautiously back in the direction he had come until he found the place where he had tumbled out of the pine trees. He moved past it looking to see where the treeline went, and kept to it hoping he might circle back close to the clearing where they had been. Ten minutes later, he was following the ravine back upstream until he could make out the arch of the stone bridge ahead of him. The sound of Ervin screaming and pleading had grown louder. He winced. He crawled closer on his front up a bank and set aside his sack. He peered over the edge of the clearing and he saw his friend being held by his shirt at the neck. The policeman flung him down and kicked him. Ervin moaned and rolled over.
Sliding back down lower, Alban closed his eyes. He thought about what he could do. He opened them and looked at his hands. They were trembling. He saw a broken branch by his side. It looked thick but dry and rotten. He stretched his hand towards it, and with the tips of his fingers pulled it closer and into his palm. He eased himself onto his back and began to breathe deeply. He saw his breath steam rise high in gusts. He looked up at the millions of stars in the clear Balkan night above him. In his field of vision the policeman suddenly entered and stood looking down on him. For a split second he saw his broad, muscular shoulders, his hair sheared close across his temples, and his eyes – yet one was odd. In fear and panic he brought the branch up into the man’s face and it smashed there into pieces. The man groped at his eyes and tumbled down the bank.
Alban got to his feet, grabbed his sack and ran towards Ervin. He pulled him up off the ground and looked at his face. It was dark and blood-sticky.
‘Hey, friend. Are you coming with me to Greece?’ he shouted. A grin broke across Ervin’s dazed face. Alban clutched his shirt and dragged him forwards, stumbling over the clearing. They tore down the edge of the treeline together. Soon they were running parallel to the ravine. Alban’s sack caught a branch and was snagged from his hand. He stopped to retrieve it. He looked back. The policeman was up now and coming.
They came to a rocky hillock and bounded up it like young goats and then down the other side into a hedge of rosehip bushes. Ervin waded through them ahead lifting the long fronds aside so that they would not snap back on him. Alban, though, felt the thorns of one cut into the flesh of his shoulder and he cried out. They tumbled out of the other side onto the grass and crawled forward until they came to the edge of the land. Alban looked down. Below them was an almost sheer bank of earth falling to the rocky bed of the stream perhaps fifty metres down. He looked out over the mountains before them. The moonlight caught a row of wind turbines on a distant ridgeline. He could smell Ervin’s sweat and blood. He thought he heard the bear growl far away, but he was sure he heard a man grunt and spit. He turned to look behind them. On the top of the hillock the policeman stood against the stars. He reached his hand down to the holster on his thigh and drew out the fat, black pistol.
‘You little dogs!’ he shouted. He mounted it across his right forearm with his left hand. Alban grabbed his friend’s arm and dragged him over the edge as two shots cracked out and echoed along the ravine.
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About Paul Alkazraji
Paul Alkazraji worked as a freelance journalist in the UK from the mid-nineties. His articles were published in Christianity Magazine, The Christian Herald, The Church Times, The Baptist Times and other publications. His travel articles were also published in The Independent. His first book Love Changes Everything, a collection of seven testimonies, was published by Scripture Union in 2001. His second book Heart of a Hooligan, a biography of ex-football hooligan Dave Jeal, was published by Highland Books in 2000. His third book Christ and the Kalashnikov, a biography of missionaries Ian and Caralee Loring, was published by Zondervan in 2001. From 2004 to 2010 he was editor and publisher of Ujëvarë magazine in Albania. His first novel, 'The Silencer', was published by Highland Books in 2012. His new novel, 'The Migrant', set in Albania and Athens during the austerity troubles, was published by Instant Apostle in February 2019.
I hope you have enjoyed the extract and it's whet your appetite for the book as a whole. Meet me back here soon for another cracking blog post and until then, keep on reading and keep on writing.
Find out more
Thank you to Reading Between The Lines Book Tours for the opportunity to highlight this book.
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