The “Dark Safari” story began with a large panel showing three men in a jeep. The two men in the back seat were white, and dressed in khakis, rifles lying on their laps (Dan chuckled at the absurd lack of any safety precautions). The third man was black, dressed in a thin white t-shirt, and stared past the reader intently as he drove the jeep, which kicked up clouds of sandy dust as it drove in the shadows of late afternoon light.
There were no word balloons above any of the three men in the first panel. Several expositional text boxes lay along the panel’s border; Dan skimmed the words, picked up the men in the back were paying the driver to lead them on a hunting safari in the poor (the word was bolded twice in the first panel) African country of Ukulamba.
In a smaller panel beneath and to the left of the first, the hunter on the left pointed into the distance. Say, what are those guys doing over there? The next panel showed the driver standing in the front seat, holding binoculars to his eyes as more text boxes surrounded him.
Dan turned the page. The driver had sat back down, looked back at his passengers, the binoculars falling down into the seat. No bother them, boss. Poachers! The next panel featured the two hunters, reclining in the back seat. The man on the right seemed bemused, I just hope they’re having better luck than we are, but his companion looked wary, Bobby’s right, we should steer clear of those guys. I heard in the village that these guys can be pretty rough customers.
The next panel was a close-up of the hunter on the right, his face contorted in anger as he pulled on his rifle, ch-chuk. Dammit, I didn’t pay all this money to admire the scenery. You want to get out and walk back to the village, fine, but I say we follow them poachers and see if we can finally bag us some skins!