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Back The Desert of Glass Save as PDF
Chapters (84)
  1. BY MICHAEL C. GRUMLEY
  2. Prologue
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. 63
  66. 64
  67. 65
  68. 66
  69. 67
  70. 68
  71. 69
  72. 70
  73. 71
  74. 72
  75. 73
  76. 74
  77. 75
  78. 76
  79. 77
  80. 78
  81. EPILOGUE
  82. II
  83. III
  84. IV

A single child beyond the thousands he had already gone through and who he had already used.  Now there was only one left to find—one exceptional child who would complete his life’s mission.

Whatever that was.

In the meantime, they would continue with the others.

Khoury didn’t know what this final child was for, either.  Or what they were supposed to do for Saad.  Or tell him.  But he did believe that whatever extraordinary benefit Saad was expecting from the children would almost certainly benefit a younger, stronger Khoury even more.

As long as Saad didn’t suddenly die on them.

If he did, Khoury would still get into the bunker, even if he had to use Saad’s lifeless handprint to do it.

54

54

Mido Saad never heard the screaming.  Even if he had, he would not have noticed.  He was still underground, where he was fixated upon his precious treasure as if in a trance.

The book.

The ancient text found hidden in King Akhenaten’s tomb and written long before the reign of the Egyptian Pharaohs.

“The needle to reveal the child.”

Saad had memorized most of the ancient tome, as millions of others would the Koran or Bible, something that had taken years, first to learn the Sumerian language and then to translate the writings imprinted upon hundreds of frail papyrus sheets of which no other living person on the Earth was aware.

But the most arduous task had been the translation.  Deciphering the meanings of words penned thousands of years before and hidden for more than two millennia in deep hibernation beneath the lifeless mummified remains of Akhenaten, a man cloaked deeply in enigmatic legend and prophecy whose reign had been riddled with accusation, abnormality and controversy.  Of the King’s appearance.  His behavior.  And most of all, his godlike knowledge.

“The needle to reveal the child.

The mind to survive the binding.”

Mido Saad slowly turned each page, brittle and delicate, speaking the words under his breath as he recited sections of the faded text.

The book had taught him everything.  Whom to target.  Who would be most conducive.  The importance of hiding his efforts from the rest of the world, from those who would try to stop him.  And, of course, how to read and use the drawn images.

He would have to learn to apply these instructions in a modern world.  But apply, he had, creating a web so deep and so vast that no one could discern his true intent.

Many on the outside had tried, but none had succeeded.  And only a few on the inside understood much if anything.  Yes, the children were being culled.  Gleaned.  Harvested, even.  But still, no one understood why.

Why it had to be children.  And why their drawings had led him to know about the disasters.