The Storm

De: Albert Sartison

Narrado por: Virtual Voice

A hitherto unknown cycle of high solar activity has led to the collapse of civilisation on Earth. As countries become engulfed by the flames of apocalyptic chaos, primal fear turns humans back into wild animals and the cities into concrete jungles where the rule of force is replacing the rule of law. The destinies of people are like matchwood in the torrent of global catastrophe toppling civilisation. Decisive action and a cunning plan aim to turn back the course of history... An excerpt The doors closed with a hiss, and the cabin of the mountain cableway smoothly picked up speed as it was carried up at an ever-increasing rate. Kate stood facing the panoramic windows and could barely hold back her tears. That idiot had gone anyway. Left everything – her, his work; he just got up and went without even saying goodbye. He had nothing but contempt for all her persuasion, arguments, threats... She had never found out which blathering fool had infected him with the stupid idea of going to Cape Town. Jerome had always been stubborn, but sometimes his stubbornness reached such heights that she found it hard to believe in his intellectual maturity. It was so easy to instil something into him, to infect him with an idea – just like a child. He was utterly dependent on his companions and was just like they were: no opinion of his own, only that of the group. Jerome was sociable and, as suited his temperament, his companions formed quite a large group, so it was virtually a stone cold certainty that sooner or later, considering how they were drawn towards adventures, one of them would come up with a stupid idea. When one of the dimwits in the group learned that there was to be an unofficial surfing championship in Cape Town this year, was Jerome going to miss such an event? No, not for anything! He was surfing mad and had once been ranked in the world’s top one hundred. He was forever grumbling that the official sport was too greatly commercialised, had lost its soul. It had become a way of making money rather than gaining satisfaction by riding along on the crest of a wave... And now there was this championship in Cape Town, and a completely unofficial one at that, although it was rumoured that almost all the champions would be going. Or at least the ones who were still respected in the informal coterie of surfers for having remained true to the concept and not having sold their soul for money. It was as if the fact that South Africa was virtually in a state of civil war was nothing to worry about. Obviously Jerome had not paid it any attention. Anyway, little things like that just add to the adrenalin. It had all begun two months ago, when unprecedented riots broke out in Cape Town, occasioned by the latest summit of heads of state. Riots at such events were nothing new, but this time they did not end with the police throwing a few smoke canisters, squibs and fireworks. At first everything had looked as it always did. The chanting of left-wing slogans, bangs from squibs, the howling of police sirens, some water from water cannons, clouds of tear gas rising up from gas grenades fired into the crowd. But at a certain moment, the situation got out of control. The crowd rushed against the barrier again, and this time the water cannon could not push it back. Witnesses among the police told of people literally going crazy, sweeping everything out of their way. A small group of retreating policemen was cut off from the main group and forced into a narrow alley. The worst of the hotheads were kept at a distance by rubber bullets, but just a few minutes later, stones were thrown at the police. There was nowhere to run and they were pushed back against a high wall. Taking fright, they opened fire with lethal weapons. The demonstrators scattered, leaving eight wounded and four dead on the asphalt. For some time, an ominous silence fell on the city...