heated ground in the distance. Looking ahead, the sergeant thought he saw something appear on the horizon, then disappear just as quickly. He continued to stare over the steering wheel until a blurred image reappeared and stabilized into a definite shape. “Well, would you look at that, sir?”
The captain cupped his hands over his sunglasses and peered through the dusty windshield. Alone in the flat expanse before them, an old woman was standing directly in the path of the convoy. She was covered from head to toe in black, the only opening a thin slit at the level of her eyes.
“There’s no one around here for fifty miles. What the bloody hell is she doing way out here all alone?”
“Must be one of them Bedouins, sir. Maybe she’s lost or hurt.”
“She’s not lost, Sergeant. These people know this desert better than you know your own living room back home. Pull over so we can give her a look … and give the medic a shout on the radio just in case.”
The jeep stopped twenty feet away from the solitary figure-a lone sentinel standing in the middle of the desert with no one else in sight. Except for the crackle of the radios in the trucks, the eerie silence of the scene was unnerving. The two men exchanged glances and paused to look back over their shoulders at the line of trucks behind them before walking slowly toward what was obviously a lone Bedouin woman.
“Say there, Miss,” the sergeant called out.
“I say, Miss … are you alright?”
The captain held his hand over his face. “What’s that smell?”
“It smells like something
The men took a few hesitant steps toward the woman, getting to within a few feet of her, when suddenly they stopped and began to back away, almost stumbling over each other in their haste to retreat.
The thing seemed to flicker for a moment.
“What the hell is that?” the sergeant shouted.
The figure began to change shape. It wavered like a broken hologram, dimming and then becoming brighter. Inside the slit in the black robes, where the men should have seen a pair of human eyes staring back at them, only a dull red glow burned within. The two men turned and began running toward the jeep, frantically waving at the troops to get back into their trucks.
Terror replaced the look of confidence on the face of the captain. “The eyes… it’s just … there’s just red light coming out of them!”
The two men reached the perceived safety of their jeep just as a strong wind began to blow over the convoy. High overhead, dark tornado-like clouds were forming-blotting out the sun and turning day into night. An unearthly scream, like the garbled howl of a primeval beast from another dimension, shot from within the black-robed creature standing frozen before them.
Behind the figure, an endless swarm of strange and hideous-looking red insects materialized from the base of the dark clouds and headed for the men. The soldiers looked on in horror before diving to the ground clutching their rifles in their hands. They lay there with their faces inches from the dirt, breathing in the dust of the parched soil. They had trained and equipped themselves to do combat with other men, but nothing had prepared them for this.
The tiny winged creatures drew closer and circled the trucks in a solid mass before spreading out and tearing through the troops, shredding their clothing and going for their exposed flesh. The insects seemed particularly interested in the eyes of the men, blinding the soldiers who were now screaming in agony, blood running from hundreds of bites on their bodies.
Firing their weapons aimlessly into the air and out into the desert, the men inadvertently struck many of their own in the ensuing panic, but their weapons were useless. The repulsive insects practically devoured the outer layer of their skin before flying away as suddenly as they had appeared.
The menacing black clouds continued to descend until they reached ground level and blanketed the entire convoy, while a demonic wind began to rage, gaining strength and swirling in a circular motion as it blew sand into the men’s now sightless eyes. The smell of sulfur infused the air before a searing heat blasted from out of nowhere, building in intensity until everything was ablaze, as if the sun had touched the earth at that very spot. Fire roared about the soldiers in the last moments of their earthly lives before their blackened bodies fell to the ground. Then silence.
Order began to replace chaos. The black clouds and swirling wind vanished, along with the black-robed figure that had stood in the path of the approaching convoy. Shining from above, the sun now revealed the newly scorched landscape. The only sound that could be heard, if someone had been alive to hear it, was the crackle of the flames as they slowly burned themselves out within the hulks of the vehicles and the bodies of the men. The acrid smell of sulfur slowly evaporated into the atmosphere, and thick, black smoke from the burning tires rose high above the grisly sight, the only sign to the rest of the world of what had just occurred in the middle of a barren desert far from prying eyes.
On the smoldering ground, the young captain’s body was curled next to the burning jeep. A few feet away, beyond the reach of his outstretched, blackened hand, lay a singed picture of a young mother holding a baby girl. The hot desert wind began to blow ever so slightly again, stirring the landscape and slowly covering the picture in the sand, where it would remain for years to come.
Chapter 1
Present Day
The taxi swerved into a space between two others in front of the international terminal at New York’s JFK Airport. A tall, dark-suited figure emerged and hurried into the building, clutching a small carry-on bag and brown leather briefcase. Embossed in gold on the briefcase were the words “Leopold Amodeo, S.J.” To the casual passerby who noticed the Roman collar, he was just another Catholic priest one sees in all busy international airports. To the initiated who noted the letters S.J. after his name, he was a Jesuit, a member of the Society of Jesus. In times past, they were known as the soldiers of the church, a genus of sanctified commandos.
Hearing the last call for his flight to Rome, he jogged up a curved ramp that led to the departure gates. Darkness enveloped the windows outside the empty waiting area as he noticed the solo gate agent glance up at him from behind a small counter at the entrance to the Jetway. “You’d better hurry, Father. They’re getting ready to close the cabin door.”
The priest quickened his pace. “Thank you. I’ve got to make this flight.”
The agent grabbed the boarding pass and watched as the priest ran down the worn blue carpet of the Jetway. “Have a nice trip. It’s beautiful this time of year in Rome.”
The priest waved over his head without looking back before stepping into the plane and brushing past a young flight attendant who was already swinging the heavy aircraft door shut. “You just made it, Father.” She glanced at his ticket and motioned him toward the front of the big jet.
The Alitalia 747 smelled strongly of coffee and jet fuel as a senior member of the flight crew caught his attention and ushered the breathless priest forward. He surveyed the plush surroundings. “Are you sure this is where I’m supposed to sit?”
“Yes, Father. You have a first-class ticket. Can I help you with your bags?”
“No … thank you. I can manage.” He sighed as he double-checked the seat number on the ticket and hefted the small carry-on bag into the overhead compartment. Clasping his worn leather briefcase tightly in one hand, he slid across the empty aisle seat into the one next to the window.
The plane appeared half empty as he looked around the cabin at all the well-dressed people seated nearby, engrossed in their books and cell phone conversations. It seemed to him that fewer people were flying to Europe now since the global economy had taken a nosedive.
Through his window, he watched the baggage handlers below in the glare of the terminal lights, wiping the
