After a moment, a tinny version of Alpha’s voice repeated the phrase. “Arzu Turan. Vish tracidor vim calee. Filash vor der wash. Vilad forsh.”

Fiona followed along, making sure she had the phrase memorized correctly, but her train of thought was interrupted by a shrill scream, followed by a stream of curses in a language she couldn’t understand. Whatever had been done to the woman had been undone when the phrase was repeated.

The woman’s screams became frantic and high-pitched, her voice angry and then desperate. A gunshot blasted, echoing in the tunnels.

Fiona fell back, clutching her ears.

The woman was dead. Silence followed.

Fiona fought against her tears, picked up a stone, and crawled to the side wall of her cell. As her emotions sapped the last of her energy, she began scratching at the wall with the stone.

Chapter Seventy-One

SEVENTY

Babylon, Iraq

BACK IN THE open air, King was more in his element, but the oversized mantises showed no signs of being slowed by the sand. They not only skittered quickly over it, but they now moved in silence.

The loose sand of the desert shifted beneath King with every step, slowing him. But his course was straight and his legs fast. The river lay ahead, and the small black boat that would carry him across—if Bowers got his shit together and started it.

As though he’d seen the annoyance on King’s face, Bowers turned the key on the boat and it started with a roar. But he’d failed to notice that half the craft was still beached.

“Throw it in reverse,” King shouted. “Get it off the beach!”

Bowers responded quickly, putting the boat in reverse and slowly giving it gas. As the propeller blades dug into the river water faster and faster it became clear that it wasn’t going to be enough to get the craft in the water.

As Bowers stood to get out of the boat, King leaped over a mound of sand separating river from desert. He landed behind Bowers.

“I’ll push!” he shouted before throwing his weight into the front of the boat. King’s shove and the still churning propeller launched the boat into the river. King jumped onto the front of the boat, swung himself around the mounted machine gun, and stood behind it. Already looking for targets, he wrapped his finger around the trigger of the belt-fed M240 machine gun.

“Just keep it in reverse,” King said. They would reach the far side of the river a little slower, but moving in reverse would allow him to use the mantises for target practice.

As the insects emerged over the rise at the river’s edge, King opened fire. The rounds fired like bursts of thunder, perking up the ears of soldiers all around Camp Alpha. While gunfire wasn’t uncommon in the surrounding territories, it was relatively unheard of on base.