Torres stepped back even more slowly and threw another rock, which landed about a foot and a half from Fowler. Once again the ants advanced on the rock until the mass was no more than eight inches from the priest. Fowler could hear the crackling of the insects. It was an ugly, frightening sound like someone shaking a paper bag full of bottle caps.
And that’s exactly what happened. The fourth rock fell at Fowler’s feet and the ants converged on it immediately. Slowly, Fowler’s boots were covered by a sea of ants that grew by the second as new ones emerged from the nest. Torres threw more rocks at the ants which became even angrier, as if the smell of their smashed brothers added to their desire for vengeance.
‘Admit it, Padre. You’re fucked,’ Torres said.
The soldier threw another rock, this time not aiming at the ground but at Fowler’s head. It missed by two inches and fell on the red tide that was moving like an angry vortex.
Torres bent down once more and chose a smaller rock, which he could throw more easily. He aimed carefully and let it fly. The rock hit the priest on the forehead. Fowler fought back the pain and the urge to move.
‘You’ll give up sooner or later, Padre. I plan to spend the morning like this.’
He bent down again, looking for ammunition, but had to stop as his walkie-talkie crackled into life.
‘Torres, Dekker here. Where the fuck are you?’
‘Taking care of the priest, sir.’
‘Leave that to Alryk, he’ll be back soon. I promised him, and as Schopenhauer said, a great man treats his promises as divine laws.’
‘Roger, sir.’
‘Report to Nest One.’
‘With all due respect, sir, it’s not my turn.’
‘With all due respect, if you’re not up at Nest One in thirty seconds I’ll find you and skin you alive. Do you copy?’
‘I copy, Colonel.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. Over and out.’
Torres returned the walkie-talkie to his belt and slowly began walking back. ‘You heard him, Padre. Since the explosion, there are only five of us, so we’re going to have to postpone our game for a couple of hours. When I get back you’ll be in worse shape. Nobody can sit still for that long.’
Fowler watched as Torres rounded the bend of the canyon near the entrance. His relief didn’t last long.
Some of the ants on his boots were beginning to inch their way up his trouser leg.
83
CAIRO, EGYPT
It wasn’t even ten in the morning and the junior meteorologist’s shirt was already soaked through. He had been on the phone the whole morning doing someone else’s job. It was the height of the summer season and everyone who was anyone had left and was on the shore of Sharm El Sheikh, pretending to be an expert diver.
But this was one task that could not be postponed. The beast that was approaching was too dangerous.
For what seemed like the thousandth time since he had confirmed the readings on his instruments, the official picked up the phone and called another of the areas due to be affected by the forecast.
‘Port of Aqaba.’
‘
‘
‘Listen to me, this is important. Early this morning we spotted a huge air mass. It’s extremely hot and it’s headed your way.’
‘A simoon? Coming this way? Shit, I’ll have to call my wife and tell her to bring in the laundry.’
‘You’d better stop joking. This is one of the biggest I’ve ever seen. It’s off the charts. Extremely dangerous.’
The meteorologist in Cairo could almost hear the harbourmaster swallowing hard on the other end of the line. Like all Jordanians, he had learned to respect and fear the simoon, a sandstorm that moved in a circular motion like a tornado, with speeds of up to 100 miles per hour and temperatures of 120 degrees Fahrenheit. Anyone unlucky enough to witness a simoon in full force out in the open died instantly of cardiac arrest due to the intense heat, and the body was robbed of all moisture, leaving an empty, dried-out carcass where only minutes before there had been a human being. Luckily, modern weather forecasts gave civilians sufficient time to take precautions.
‘I understand. Do you have a vector?’ said the harbourmaster, now clearly worried.
‘It left the Sinai desert a few hours ago. I think it’s just going to graze Aqaba, but it will feed on the currents there and explode over your central desert. You’ll have to call everyone so they can relay the message.’
‘I know how the network works, Jawar. Thank you.’
‘Just make sure that nobody sails before tonight, OK? If not, you’ll be collecting mummies in the morning.’
84
AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN
David Pappas pushed the head of the drill through the opening for the last time. They had just finished drilling a slit in the wall some six feet wide and three and a half inches high, and thanks to
