It’s my privilege to introduce
Don Brobst
and his contemporary thriller
The Ghost of Africa
Waterfall Press
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Who is Don?
Don Brobst is an award-winning author and medical director of the State of Alabama. Trained in Chicago, Don moved to Birmingham in 1993. A dedicated father of three and grandfather of five, he’s passionate about writing, while understanding the importance of family.
Working in the villages of Sudan, he leads teams that provide desperately needed medical care to the poor and needy deep in the African bush. His ventures also take him to Egypt many times a year, delivering medical care to those who need it most.
Keep reading to learn more about Don’s debut novel and an opportunity to influence for Don!
The Ghost of Africa
New York City surgeon Paul Branson and his wife, Nicki, had a dream: to help the people of the African bush. After Nicki’s untimely death, Paul decides to honor her memory and carry on alone. In South Sudan, he channels grief into hope, caring for villagers and working to save Leza, a little girl with leukemia who has captured his heart.
Meanwhile, Jason Quinn, terrorist leader of the Lord’s Resistance Army, the LRA, has deadly plans for the people of South Sudan. But he needs information to carry out his plot — information from research Paul did for the US government years ago. Quinn will stop at nothing to obtain this secret intelligence, even kidnap a dying child. Now, in order to save the ailing Leza and stop genocide, Paul must go beyond his medical training to journey into a world of brutal terrorism and global intrigue. With only instinct and his faith as guides, how far will he go to save the lives of thousands?
Excerpt
I love stories set in intriguing locations, that challenge my thoughts, and promote a message of hope. The Ghost of Africa ticks all those boxes with danger aplenty.
Here’s an excerpt from Chapter Five…
Paul left the hut, and as he scanned the clearing for Buru, he thought about what Leza said. What was he supposed to do next?
In the distance, a flock of birds suddenly took flight from the treetops. He knew it could mean a predator was approaching. Then he remembered the trucks coming from Mundri to transport the villagers—kids first, then the others. Maybe it was them, though a little early. But that was good. They could get loaded and move them to safety with daylight to spare.
Screeching chimpanzees at the tree line startled him as they scurried into the branches. He glanced at them. “What’s spooking you fellas?” he mumbled as he looked at his watch. Really, it was too early for the trucks. They’d have to have left at dawn. He turned and noticed Buru outside his hut twenty meters away staring in the same direction.
“Buru! Are our trucks coming already?”
He didn’t respond but continued to look intently toward the tall grass as if he didn’t hear Paul.
The faint sound of a truck engine broke the silence, and it was getting closer. Paul enjoyed a brief moment of relief that disappeared when he heard screams from the outer circle of the village. It wasn’t their rescue trucks. Villagers scurried for cover.
He turned and ran back into Leza’s hut. “Leza, get up. We have to get you out of here.”
She stared at him. “What’s the matter, Baba?”
Orma ran out from the back room. “No. It can’t be. Not again.”
The roaring engines grew louder. He stepped out the door for a better look. Four jeeps burst through the tall grass and into the village center fifty meters away. Women grabbed their children and scattered as dust flew into the air from the jeeps skidding to a halt. They were filled with soldiers, but not ones dressed in Sudan military garb. Paul rushed back to Leza and disconnected the IV as he heard gunfire.
“Orma, let’s go. We have to get out of here.” He scooped Leza into his arms as she began to sob, but Orma stood beside the bed unable to move.
“Orma!”
She looked at Paul as fear filled her eyes.
“Let’s go!”
She followed Paul out the door.
“Leza. It’ll be okay.” Just as he said it, a firm hand grabbed his arm. He turned to see Emeka gripping him.
“Put her down. Go back inside and put her in bed. You must leave, Dr. Paul.”
“We have to get her to safety, Emeka.”
“They’re not here for her. They’re here for you.”
“What do you mean?” But he thought of the dream. Deep inside he knew.
“Just go, Dr. Paul.”
Paul ran back through the doorway and laid Leza on her bed. “I’ll be back for you.”
Emeka grabbed Paul and pushed him out the door and behind Paul’s hut. Emeka peered around the corner as more gunfire erupted.
A voice echoed on a megaphone from the clearing. “Dr. Branson, come out now and no one will be harmed.”
“Emeka, who was that? How do they know my name?”
“They’re going from hut to hut looking for you. Asking for you by name.”
Emeka dragged him behind another hut near the tall grass. Paul glanced around the corner of the building. The soldiers were running toward them.
“Who are these guys?”
Emeka took his arm and they ran into the grass that reached well over their heads.
His friend shoved him deeper into the dense greenery. He pushed him so hard, Paul almost fell. “Go now!”
“Dr. Paul Branson from America. Come out, or I will kill this girl. Her name is Leza. I give you five seconds. One—”
Paul turned and ran past Emeka toward the clearing.
“No, Dr. Paul!” Emeka tried to grab his arm.
“Two—”
Furiously, Paul thrashed through the thick stalks with his arms.
“Three—”
He reached the edge. A soldier held a pistol against Leza’s head.
“Four—”
“No! I’m here!” He sprinted into the clearing. “Don’t hurt her. Let her go. I’m here.” He held his hands over his head.
“You are the doctor?” The booming voice came from a man standing in the jeep to his right. Tall and muscular, he wore blue army fatigues and a beret.
“I’m Dr. Paul Branson, and I said—let her go.”
Several soldiers circled Paul with their rifles trained on him. Leza sobbed as the soldier continued to hold the gun to her head. Paul tried to give her an encouraging smile, then something struck his head and everything went black.
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The Ghost of Africa Influencer Opportunity
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