Alex jolted upright as a door in his mind creaked open, and like a cloud of greasy smoke, the words of Jabir ibn Hayyan leaked in.
“You think you are free?” The evil little voice croaked with laughter. “I will send a thousand of my Zhayedan to your home. You know you can’t stop them all, and I only need to win once, to obliterate millions of you.”
Alex groaned, crushing his eyes shut.
“I will be free, and when I am, I will find you, Alex Hunter.” It seemed to laugh and then the voice became sly. “And I will find your Aimee Weir, and then perhaps I will find your son, Joshua. I’ll save him for last. His pain will be the most unbearable.”
Alex put his hands up to his head, but the sound of Adira’s warning jarred him back to the truck’s cabin. Up ahead a line of soldiers was waiting for them. Two jeeps had also been parked nose-to-nose as a barrier.
Alex growled. “Sam, give me the M203, and keep flooring it.” Alex took the grenade launcher and checked the rounds still in the modified drum clip — ten left — plenty.
Bullets started to whack into the armored sides of the truck, and he could see at least two men preparing shoulder mounted RPG launchers — now or never, he thought.
Alex leaned out of the truck and fired round after round of the plug-like grenades, targeting the jeeps, the RPG handlers, and then the phalanx of soldiers, until all ten rounds had been expended.
The detonations were almost instantaneous and a curtain of fire, flesh and debris filled the tunnel. Alex pulled himself back into the cabin.
“Brace!”
They passed through the flaming wall, bumping over the remains of one molten jeep, and heading toward a massive set of steel doors that still hung open. Beyond, a dark sky beckoned.
Alex checked his watch. “Three minutes. About to get real hot, people.”
The deep detonation was an earthquake that threw them around like they were encased in a toy, and a vent of flame shot from the tunnel, blasting into the dark sky, making the night into daytime while Sam struggled to hold the wheel.
The flame was shut off, as the tunnel caved in on itself. They sped on, and behind them the world collapsed. They had over 150 miles of night desert to cross, in a hostile territory, while outpacing a toxic, nuclear shock wave.
Not a single one of them would complain for a second.
CHAPTER 14
Jack Hammerson leaned back in his chair, a pair of strong blunt hands clasped together across his stomach. He faced a huge screen set into his office wall that showed an image of the nighttime desert in the Mashhad District of Northern Iran. Even though it was night, the illumination settings of the VELA satellite feed made it as clear as daytime.
The small town of Tous suddenly rose about fifty feet in the air, like it was sitting upon a huge blister about to pop, and then with a venting of boiling gasses from a million cracks over a two-mile radius, it simply fell back in on itself, forming a massive sunken crater. Anything and everything below ground would have ceased to exist.
Hammerson continued to watch the screen. To him, it looked like the earth had just been pounded by a mighty fist, or titanic hammer.
“So strikes the hammer of God.” He smiled. “That’s what happens when you play with fire.”
He knew the drill; mining accident, the government would say for the local and international press. Nuclear accident, the Iranian military would agree.
Hammerson grunted. They did it to themselves, Hammerson would say, if any of his superiors asked of their involvement. He turned away from the screen. His recovery teams were already waiting in Turkmenistan to pull Alex and the team out.
He closed the folder and got to his feet, crossing to the window. He stood looking out over the parade ground, hands clasped behind his back.
“You push, and we push back harder.” He watched a storm rolling in from the west for several more minutes before hearing his computer ping with a message. He turned back to his desk, and sat down reading the new data, and watching the new satellite feed.
He grunted. “One last loose end to tie off.” He placed a headset over his head and prepared to initiate the order.
The huge figure lumbered toward the ancient city of Misrata in Libya. It joined the masses of humanity heading in toward the busy coastal city, once called the Riviera of Libya, now just another boiling pot of sectarian violence.
The figure was bent under the weight on its back, but it still towered over the people around it. The giant plodded on, unfeeling, uncaring, and unswerving in its allotted task. A cowl was pulled forward over a heavily scarified face.
A man fell in beside it to its left, and the giant ignored him. Another fell in to its right. This one was also ignored. The behemoth plodded in, its designated target — Rome — all that mattered.
Eyes watched from a thousand miles overhead, and single word was spoken into the ears of the men on each side of the hooded figure. Immediately, long knives were drawn, and in a single sweep the large head was removed from the body. The two attackers didn’t stop, slashing at the shoulders and removing both arms to the horror of those who watched. The massive drum fell from the torso to thump on the dirt.
The two then didn’t stop their hacking until there was nothing but chunks of flesh, some still twisting and writhing at their feet like small animals.
A covered truck slid to a stop, and small crane swung out to lift the large package into the rear. The driver jumped free with a canister, pouring gasoline over the remains, and then igniting them.
In another few seconds, the truck, and the attackers, had vanished, leaving a trail of greasy smoke rising into the air, the only remnants of the magic and monstrosities of the world’s last great alchemist.
About Greig Beck
Greig Beck grew up across the road from Bondi Beach in Sydney, Australia. His early days were spent surfing, sunbaking and reading science fiction on the sand. He then went on to study computer science, immerse himself in the financial software industry and later received an MBA. Today, Greig spends his days writing, but still finds time to surf at his beloved Bondi Beach. He lives in Sydney, with his wife, son and an enormous black German shepherd.