Xenophobia

Начало книги

Dust kicked off the dry grassy field. Fine grains of sand blew outward with the downdraft from the twin rotor blades of the incoming Osprey.

Standing there on the outskirts of a small African village, Elizabeth Bower shielded her face from the sting of thousands of tiny dust particles, loose strips of grass, sand, dirt, and the occasional twig shooting across the ground as the Osprey touched down.

Bower didn’t like the Osprey. She loved flying in helicopters and didn’t mind airplanes, even uncomfortable military flights, but a craft that was both a helicopter and a plane just didn’t sit right with her.

The pilot powered down the engine and the winds dropped from those of a hurricane to a blustery summer storm.

Four soldiers ran in as the tailgate on the Osprey lowered and the whine of the engines fell away. Dr. Bower followed them with one arm wrapped around her waist, holding her white medical coat closed against the wind.

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