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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

It had been stowed and hidden as a precaution in the unlikely event that something happened to the original.  Damage, deterioration or theft.  As impossible as it seemed, it had been hidden below ground in Saad’s bunker for the last half-century.

There was perhaps an even more uncomfortable possibility of damage—intentional destruction.  By Saad himself, should another person become aware of it.

Over his right shoulder, in the corner of the tiny space, were the only other objects in the room—a five-gallon metal can of gasoline and a box of matches.

He was so close now.  So very close.  He had seen what the book told him he would when the miracle was near.  Just as the others had, whose secret writings filled the entirety of the ancient pages.  Other people who had lived long before him, telling him what he would need to do—and, of course, how he would need to do it.

An ancient, mysterious tome passed from one hand to another, known by perhaps only a dozen living souls in all of human history before disappearing from all existence for eons, locked away in the tomb of one of Egypt’s most remarkable and misunderstood figures.

42

42

January 1907

With one last heave, the heavy limestone block finally gave way and fell backward, disappearing into blackness, revealing a hole in the thick wall of rocks and boulders.

Breathing heavily, the man reached up and adjusted the cloth back over his nose while pressing himself against the rocky wall, allowing a second man to step forward and assist.

Both were struggling for air, not just because of the tunnel but also the ravaging sandstorm outside, ready to pelt them like a giant sandblaster the moment they stepped back into the open.  The narrow tunnel sheltered them from the stinging winds, but the tradeoff wasn’t much better—complete envelopment inside the tunnel as they struggled for oxygen through the smokey clouds of their oil-wick lamps.

The lamps were frustratingly dim, requiring the men to hold their faces mere inches from whatever it was they were trying to see, which was now the rock wall directly in front of them displaying a pitch-black hole in its center.

On the verge of hyperventilating, the man named Ayrton raised his lamp in front of the opening and attempted to peer inside.  But he could see nothing, leaving both men striving to get all four hands around the edges for a hold.

Together, they worked the next boulder back and forth, over and over until pebbles began to fall from its edges.

“Careful,” warned Ayrton under his cloth mask.  “This one probably weighs three or four hundred kilos.  Don’t let it land on your foot!”

Several minutes later, the second square stone finally gave way and tumbled forward, missing the tips of their dirty boots by inches and providing a much larger hole through which to peer.