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  “Well?” Simona said. “What is it?”

  “Nautilus is down.”

  She tensed up. “How?”

  “A militia—God’s Judges—arrived on the scene shortly before we ran the kill pattern. One of them must’ve fired a shoulder-based missile launcher. Direct hit, unfortunately.”

  She rubbed her temples. “What’s Nautilus’ condition?”

  “We’re not sure. We tracked it for as long as possible. But it’s no longer responding to our signals.”

  “So, it crashed.”

  “Not necessarily. We were able to issue an emergency-landing directive before losing communications.”

  Simona leaned back in her chair. This couldn’t be happening, not now. “The self-destruct protocol?”

  “Activated, of course. But the protocol was issued after we lost communications so I’ve got no idea if Nautilus received it.”

  “Can you find Nautilus?”

  Pascal nodded. “It shouldn’t be too difficult. At last contact, it was descending over a long stretch of abandoned farmland.”

  “Good. Clean up everything before you leave.” Simona took a deep breath. “What about Lila Grinberg?”

  “Dead.”

  She allowed herself a small smile. “So, you’ve got the reliquary?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Explain.”

  “As you know, Lila hired Cy Reed’s Salvage Force to handle the excavation. They’ve disappeared along with the reliquary.”

  Simona exhaled.

  “Fortunately, we caught a break. Some tire tracks survived the latest dust storm. Based on their direction, I think Reed is heading toward the Nautilus.”

  “He must be going to check on it. If you hurry, you can kill two birds with one stone.”

  “Understood.” Pascal lifted his hand toward the screen, presumably to cut the connection.

  “Jeremy?”

  Pascal stopped short. “Yes?”

  “When I say kill two birds, I mean it.” Simona stared into his eyes. “Once you have the reliquary, kill the salvage team.”

  Chapter 17

  Dirt whipped against the windshield as the truck went airborne. Seconds later, the vehicle landed on the cracked pavement with a thud.

  “Maybe we should slow down,” Beverly said.

  My gaze hardened. “I can handle it.”

  She looked away.

  I understood her concerns. The drought had caused most residents to abandon nearby farms for proverbial greener pastures. If we crashed, there would be no one to help us.

  But I had my own concerns. The reliquary, although covered, was still vulnerable to the elements. Thieves were also a potential problem. But most of all, I just wanted to finish the trip as quickly as possible. I wanted to turn the reliquary over to Lila’s colleagues, to wash my hands of the whole mess.

  I squinted. While my goggles improved nighttime vision, they also reduced depth perception. So, I’d removed them prior to taking the wheel. Fortunately, the truck’s headlights provided decent illumination.

  Looking ahead, I saw what appeared to be an endless stretch of rocks and dirt. Some of the dirt whipped into the air. It swirled around in a funnel shape.

  More dirt flew upward, joining the storm. It whirled around the truck until I could no longer see the landscape.

  Tapping the brakes, I brought the truck to a stop. As I cut the engine, even more dirt swirled into the sky, forming walls of soil on all sides of us.

  “Another dust storm.” Beverly’s eyes widened. “And a pretty big one from the looks of it.”

  Dust storms were an unfortunate side effect of the recent droughts. Lack of rainfall loosened particles in the soil. When the wind blew against them, the particles vibrated and rose into the sky. Striking the ground repeatedly, they caused other particles to break free and follow suit.

  The dirt wall thinned before my eyes. A moment later, it collapsed completely.

  “It’s gone.” Graham arched an eyebrow. “It just vanished.”

  “Stay on your guard,” Beverly said. “You never know when another one will pop up.”

  I turned the ignition. The truck sputtered for a moment, choking out dirt. Then it sprang to life. Shifting gears, I pushed the accelerator. The truck lurched forward.

  After a short drive, a couple of flimsy wooden structures appeared on the side of the road. Dirt swirled around their bases, erasing them. From where I sat, it looked like the buildings floated in mid-air.

  I eased off the accelerator. Drooping wire enclosures occupied both sides of the road. One enclosure contained nothing but dry, cracked soil. Someone had carved out dozens of tiny saucer basins in order to contain precipitation. But the basins, like everything else in the area, were bone dry.

  Long wooden posts supported the other enclosure. A single black bird perched on a post, facing inward. Following its gaze, I saw what had caught its attention.

  Dead cows. Dozens of them.

  The skeletal remains lay on parched ground. I didn’t see a single blade of grass or drop of water in the vicinity.

  We drove past the remaining enclosures. Then the road twisted to the northwest. Still following the plane’s flight path, I directed the truck off the pavement and onto the parched soil.

  Beverly glanced at me. “Are you sure about this?”

  I frowned. “Not really.”

  “What about Lila?”

  “What about her?”

  “She told you to destroy the reliquary, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Then why aren’t we doing it?”

  My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Because I don’t know if I believe her.”

  “It doesn’t hurt to be safe.”

  “It might.”

  She arched an eyebrow.

  My face felt warm. I knew what she was thinking. I’d destroyed numerous artifacts in the past. So, what was keeping me from doing the same thing to this one?

  Obviously, I couldn’t be sure the reliquary constituted a threat. But that wasn’t the only reason behind my hesitation. There was something else, something I’d only learned in the last few weeks.

  Something that hit me on a very personal level.

  I thought about telling her the truth. But I’d barely had time to process it, let alone accept it. So, I decided to take a simpler approach. “What if the reliquary could solve some long-forgotten mystery?” I asked.

  “What if it’s just an old stone box?”

  “It’s still a part of history. And that makes it important. More important than me, more important than all of us.”

  She glared at me, her eyes boring holes into my skull. “Is that right?”

  This is simpler?

  “In the grand scheme of things, we’re nothing,” I said after a long moment. “Just three people out of billions. But the reliquary is unique.”

  “I’m not unique?”

  “I’m not saying that.” My face grew warmer. “Look, the world is screwed. We can’t save it. But we can still save the past. That reliquary will improve our knowledge of history. Society as a whole will benefit.”

  Her eyes narrowed to slits. “So, society matters more than me?”

  “No. It’s just …” I paused, trying to figure out a way to make my point. “Okay, here’s a hypothetical question. What if you had to choose between saving my life or one hundred lives?”

  “I’d choose you,” she said without hesitation.

  I arched an eyebrow.

  “That’s what you do when you care about someone.”

  “Okay, what if it was between me and every living person on Earth?”

  “That’s a stupid question.”

  “What would you choose?”

  “It’s a stupid question. It doesn’t deserve an answer.”

  “You just don’t want to admit I’m right. Nobody would allow billions to die just to save a single life.” I shrugged. “At some point, the needs of society outweigh our o
wn needs. That exact point may differ between people, but we all reach it.”

  “Like I said, it’s a dumb question. How could I even be sure your death would save all those lives?”

  “It’s not meant to be a real question,” Graham said. “It’s a thought exercise. You know, like whether it’s okay to torture a person in order to locate a ticking time bomb.”

  “That question is just as dumb,” she replied. “How can we be sure the torture will actually yield the correct location? What about blowback? And do you really think—?”

  “You’re missing the point,” he said. “The idea is to force you to choose between your principles.”

  “Look, I don’t want anything bad to happen to us,” I said. “But I got into this business to save artifacts, to save the past. If I wasn’t willing to risk my life to do that, I wouldn’t be very good at my job.”

  The wind picked up speed. Particles of dirt slashed against the windshield. “How’s my direction?” I asked.

  “Hang on.” Graham pressed his eyes into his binoculars. “Okay, I’ve got a visual on the wreckage. It’s about two hundred yards away. Keep straight and watch out for the hills.”

  “How’s it look?” Beverly asked.

  “Intact for the most part.” His fingers tightened around the lenses. “Also, strange. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  The truck jolted as it shot over a small hill. My teeth clashed as the tires smacked against the soil.

  In the distance, I saw a series of large hills and small mountains. Abruptly, their bottom halves dissolved into darkness. Then the desolate land in front of the hills started to fade from view. Glancing upward, I saw the night sky grow darker.

  Beverly took the lenses from Graham and lifted them to her eyes. “It’s another dust storm.”

  “How big is it?” I asked.

  “Huge.”

  I drove around a steep hill. Then I turned the wheel again and pointed the vehicle directly at the swirling, rising sands.

  Graham chewed his upper lip for a moment. “Maybe we should break off, make a run for it.”

  “Won’t work,” Beverly said. “It’s too big, too fast.”

  “Pull over then.” Graham glanced at me. “We’ll wait it out.”

  I didn’t like the idea of exposing the reliquary to another dust storm. But if I had to do it, I wanted it to have additional shielding. And the plane’s fuselage would provide some protection from the wind and blowing dirt. “We’re not waiting it out.” I stomped on the gas pedal. “We’re going to drive straight through it.”

  Chapter 18

  “One hundred yards to go.” Using the binoculars, Beverly studied the terrain. “Angle us two degrees to the right.”

  I twisted the wheel to match her instructions.

  “The fuselage is in pretty good shape,” she said. “It looks like the pilot was able to make an emergency landing.”

  I continued to drive. But it wasn’t easy. The headlights barely penetrated the darkness. To make matters worse, the terrain was bumpy and pockmarked with rocks, hills, and other obstacles.

  A shadowy aircraft materialized out of the darkness. It was about fifty feet long and stood fifteen feet tall. It lay flat on the ground with its fuselage partially buried in dirt. One wing had snapped in half while the other one angled high into the air. Based on the surviving wing, I estimated its original wingspan at about forty to forty-five yards.

  The air popped. The truck veered to the right. I twisted the wheel, struggling to keep the vehicle under control.

  The vehicle shot back to the left. Looking ahead, I saw the plane just twenty feet in front of us.

  I wrenched the wheel. The vehicle skidded along the soil, straightening out until we were parallel with the plane.

  Dirt swirled around us. I jolted as the truck slammed into something. Metal crunched. Glass cracked. The air bag deployed, smashing into me, driving me back against the seat.

  Fighting off a wave of dizziness, I inhaled a few shallow breaths. My right hand reached up, groping the shelf behind me. Grabbing my machete, I thrust the blade into the bag. Air leaked out. My breathing normalized.

  I punctured the other airbag. Beverly and Graham slumped into their seats. While they refilled their lungs, I rubbed my neck. It felt sore. But otherwise, I was uninjured.

  Tiny jets of hot air ripped at me. I felt grit in my throat. I glanced at the windshield and side windows. Constructed from laminated safety glass, they’d largely withstood the crash. But tiny cracks perforated their surfaces. Dirt, egged on by the fierce wind, pushed through the cracks.

  “Everyone …?” More dirt shot into my lungs and I coughed. “Everyone okay?”

  Beverly stretched her limbs. “Define okay.”

  “What the hell happened?” Graham asked.

  “I guess I lost control.” Peering through the windshield, I saw a mound of dirt. “The plane kicked up a bunch of soil. Looks like we ran into it.”

  “Lucky us.”

  The wind howled. The windows shuddered.

  “We can’t stay here.” Beverly coughed a few times. “The storm … it’s too strong.”

  “What about the plane?” Graham said. “It might work as shelter.”

  I glanced at the plane, barely seeing it in the raging storm. I knew we’d find corpses inside the fuselage. The real question was whether we’d find any survivors. “Check it out.” I replied. “I’m going to dig out the truck, move it a little closer to the plane.”

  Graham forced his door open. Swirling dirt flew into the cab. Quickly, he and Beverly climbed outside.

  Flying dirt stung my skin as I exited the vehicle. I trudged to the flatbed and checked the reliquary. It was nestled safely in its cradle, protected by the plastic covering and mountains of cables and cords.

  Fighting against the wind, I made my way to the front of the vehicle. The truck was embedded two feet into a mound of dirt. The collision had caused more dirt to pour down from above, covering the rest of the front end with a thick layer of soil.

  “We’ve got a problem.” Beverly appeared, striding through the vicious storm.

  I twisted to face her. “What is it?”

  “That isn’t an ordinary plane.”

  “Oh?”

  “There’s no way inside it.”

  The truck’s passenger door creaked open. Light clattering noises rang out as Graham gathered his toolbox.

  “Hang on a second.” Bending over, I studied the vehicle’s underside. My lip curled in disgust as I realized how I’d lost control of the vehicle. “Damn it.”

  Beverly knelt down. Her face clouded over as she stared at the flat tire.

  “Well, that settles it.” Exhaling loudly, I stood up. “Like it or not, we’re stuck here.”

  Chapter 19

  “What kind of plane is that anyway?” Graham peered into the swirling storm. “It looks like a damn sea monster.”

  Indeed, the wreckage was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. The aluminum fuselage, painted a dull white, bulged out at the front end like the head of a serpent. A giant turbofan engine was mounted on top of the aircraft, facing the bulbous head. The single remaining wing was long and narrow. It looked utterly incapable of transporting such a heavy aircraft.

  My gaze turned to a deep groove trailing the plane. Apparently, the pilot had failed to deploy the landing gear in time. However, he or she had still managed to crash land in relatively smooth fashion. The plane had slid on its belly, losing a wing in the process, before finally tunneling into the soil.

  “Do you recognize the model?” I asked Beverly.

  “No, but …” Her voice sounded hollow in the wind.

  “But what?”

  She shook her head. “Let’s just get inside it.”

  My eyes traced the fuselage. The side facing us was only half-buried in soil. Still, I didn’t see any sign of a cabin door. Twisting toward the tail, I started to walk around the plane.

  “Don’t bother,”
Beverly said. “There’s no door. And no windows either.”

  “Well, what about those missiles?” I asked. “They must’ve left a hole somewhere.”

  “We think they struck the opposite wing,” Graham said. “They didn’t completely destroy it, but did enough damage to force the landing.”

  “But there’s a hole, right?”

  Beverly nodded. “Unfortunately, it’s too high to reach. The same goes for the cockpit.”

  My gaze turned to Graham. His toolbox was clutched in his hands. “So, how do we get in there?”

  He hiked to the tail. A giant metal access panel, also painted a dull white, was positioned about a foot off the ground. He pounded a fist on the panel. “Through here.”

  For the next few minutes, we attacked the panel’s bolts and screws. One by one, they loosened.

  The wind picked up speed. The air felt unbearably hot and dry. I opened a water bottle and tipped it to my lips. But when I tried to drink, dirt particles swept inside the bottle, turning the liquid into mud. Disgusted, I spat out the muck and went back to work.

  As I loosened a bolt, I tried to make sense of the strange aircraft. From all appearances, the panel was the plane’s only access point. And yet, it had been sewed up tight from the outside.

  But why? Was someone trying to keep the pilot from exiting the aircraft?

  Graham removed the last bolt. Beverly yanked a metal handle. The panel swung open, revealing a darkened interior.

  She pulled it open a few more inches and hoisted herself into the plane. Soft clunking noises sounded out as she gained her footing.

  The wind gained even more speed as I helped Graham through the gap. I cast one final glance at the reliquary. It sat quietly on the flatbed, surrounded by the growing storm. I hated to leave it, but unfortunately, there was nothing else I could do to protect it.

  Dirt danced around me as I turned back to the hatch. Hacking loudly, I hoisted myself into the darkness.