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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

Excusing themselves, the three walked into the bedroom and briefly closed the door.

Inside, Leonard Townsend continued toward the window, where he stopped and peered out.

“You okay?”

The older man didn’t answer.  Instead, he remained staring through the glass.  “Everything we call real is made of things we cannot call real,” he murmured.

“Pardon?”

Townsend shook his head and turned around.  “Am I still rational?”

“What do you mean?”

Townsend looked at both of them.  “I’m asking you if I am still rational?”

“Uh… yes?”

“I’m not so sure anymore.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Townsend continued staring.  “A rational person would not believe this.”

“I can’t exactly argue with you on that one.”

“No rational person would believe…” said Townsend, “what I am about to tell you.”

Angela and Joe remained quiet, waiting.

“When we were in Bolivia,” said Townsend slowly,  “I went in there.  Into the canyon.  And I saw the spire.  But I never told you what happened to me, or what I saw.”

Listlessly, the professor turned back toward the window.

“The reason… was because I didn’t understand it, even though I knew what I was seeing was real.” He reached forward and gently touched the glass with his fingertips.  “I just didn’t understand it.”

“Understand what?”

“Angela,” Townsend said, without turning around.  “You said you saw your mother.”

“That’s right,” she replied.

“And Joe.  You saw your wife and daughter.”

“Yes.”

“Do you both believe that what you saw was real?”

Hesitantly, they nodded.  “Yes.”

Townsend nodded too, his fingers still on the pane.  “Just as mine was real.  But I didn’t see a person, or even two.”

Again, he rotated away from the window.  “I saw several.”

Rickards and Angela remained still.

“I saw several,” Townsend repeated.  “But I didn’t know them.”

“None at all?”

He shook his head.  “Which is why I didn’t understand.  Until now.”

Rickards turned his hands up in a questioning gesture.

“What I saw were children,” said Townsend.  “Several children, all standing before me with burnt faces and burnt clothing. In the desert.  They stared at me but said nothing.”

His face looked forlorn.  “I saw the children Mona just described—the ones who perished in that accident.  Young, innocent children who may as well have been Allah.”

Angela and Rickards were both shocked and gaped back at him with their mouths open. Angela abruptly raising a hand to cover hers.

There were no words, only a stunned silence before Townsend slowly stepped forward and reached into his pants pocket, where he withdrew and dropped a small fragment of burnt clothing onto Joe’s bed.

60

60

Sitting at the desk, Eshe heard the door to her room open behind her, leading her to spin around and see a strange woman entering with a food tray.