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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

The notes Mona had taken from her sister-in-law were nowhere near complete. Still, there was enough ancillary evidence, either through labor reports or in some cases financial records, that showed an odd and repeating pattern, one that seemed to grow larger and more sophisticated with each event, until no company was reused, but instead quickly established just before a catastrophe, run-up into the thousands and then erased from public record.

It was utterly inexplicable.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Neither have I.”

“I’ve never even heard of something like this.”

“I think this is what Hamed was trying to tell me,” Mona stammered, “in his hospital room.  With the imam.”

Gradually, she arranged the papers on her lap and slid them back into the folder.  “What do we do?”

Omar absently shook his head.  In his rearview mirror, he saw nothing but empty road.  “Do you want to keep going?”

“Yes!”

33

33

The world’s orphan epidemic was far worse than most people knew, particularly in Africa, where over thirty percent of the orphans in the world were found, leaving swaths of tent-based encampments scattered throughout dozens of large cities.

This made their trip to the tiny town outside of Kharga all the more puzzling.

When they arrived, Omar pulled the car to a stop, not in front of a group of tents, but rather a small, well-kept and relatively new building.  It looked as though it had been built only a handful of years before.  Long and two-storied with stucco painted soft white, it stood alone in a vast open lot. The entire setting seemed oddly out of place in such a poverty-ridden countryside.

Several young children were playing in the distance in the dirt beneath a tall marula tree, dressed in matching light-colored clothing.

On the opposite side of the building sat two old and dust-covered vehicles parked side by side, each with a film of dirt almost thick enough to obscure makes and models.  It was an odd contrast to the tidiness of the building and the children.

Quietly, they both exited the BMW and stood, feeling the dry, hot desert breeze instantly envelop them.

Still wearing her hair in a bun, Mona reached back into the car to retrieve a khimar and wrapped the light scarf over her head.  Together, they strode forward and around the nearest corner of the building until they spotted an open front door.  Once inside, the wind disappeared and the temperature dropped in exchange for cooler air that smelled slightly damp.

Mona glanced at Omar, leading him to clear his throat and call out down an open hallway stretching the length of the building.  To their left was a large available room hosting several pieces of attractive wooden furniture, and to their right, an open eating area, sparsely decorated with tables and chairs, but clean and functional.  The dining room.