Ultimate Supernatural Horror Box Set (2 page)

“I was not aware,” Kesev said icily, “that a question concerning our arrival at the crash site of a weapon hurled at us by one of our most vicious enemies, a weapon that might contain chemical or biological toxins, could be construed as childish.”

“Sir,” the copilot said, straightening in his seat and half turning toward him.  “I meant nothing like that.  I—”

He knew he was being unfair, but he was edgy and irritable and wanted to lay off some of that burden on this youngster.

“Nor was I aware that I was driving you crazy.” 

“Sir, I was just—”

“Just keep us on course.”

“Yes sir.”

On course
.  The missile in question had been anything but.  SCUDs had a reputation for being about as accurate as fireworks rockets, but this particular missile’s course had added a new dimension to the concept of erratic.  It had turned so far south that it never came within range of the Patriots the army had borrowed from the Americans.  For a while it looked as if it might crash into the Dead Sea, but its trajectory had flattened momentarily, carrying it into the Wilderness.

Near the Resting Place. 

Kesev had no doubt that it had missed the Resting Place.  A direct hit was inconceivable.  But anything focusing attention on that area posed a threat to the secret.  He wanted to see the crash site himself, and wanted to be present when the inspection team arrived.  He’d be there to deal with any other intelligence service that might try to tag along.  Domestic intelligence was Shin Bet’s domain and Kesev was here to claim it for them.  He feared that if he didn’t stake out his territory now, Mossad and Aman would be horning in, and might wander into areas they shouldn’t. 

One area—the Resting Place—was not to be disturbed. 
Never
disturbed.  He shuddered to think of the consequences...

Kesev tried to shake off the unease that had encircled his throat since he’d seen the computer MPI printout.

“I’m still waiting for the answer to my question,” he said to no one in particular.

“ETA twenty minutes, sir,” the copilot said without looking at him.

That’s better, Kesev thought. 
That
is the proper way to treat one of Shin Bet’s top operatives.

Then he reconsidered.  Perhaps he was being too hard on the youth.  He’d been a young upstart once. 

Dear Lord, how long ago had that been? 

Never mind.

“Who do you think aimed this missile?” Kesev said, trying to lighten the leaden mood that had settled on the cabin.  “A blind man?”

“Yeah,” the pilot said.  “Ayatollah Stevie Wonder.”

The copilot laughed and Kesev forced a smile, all the while wanting to ask, Who is Stevie Wonder?  But he feared sounding out of touch.  He was ever on guard against sounding out of touch.

“Yeah,” the copilot said.  “Someone put a mean hook on that SCUD.”

“Hook?”

“You ever play golf, sir?”

Kesev had tried it once or twice but had been unable to comprehend the fascination the game held for so many of his countrymen. 

“Of course.”

“Well, you aim a SCUD at Tel Aviv and it just misses the Dead Sea.  I’d say that’s one hell of a hook.”

Missed Tel Aviv by 120 miles.  That was indeed far off course.  Too far off.  Almost...

Don’t think crazy thoughts, he told himself.  It’s an accident.  Just another one of those crazy things that just seem to happen.

But he’d long known from personal experience that some things that seemed to “just happen,” didn’t.

And he trembled at the possibility that this errant SCUD incident might be one of those.

‡

The Judean Wilderness

Achmed darted about the field, collecting metal scraps of assorted sizes until both arms were full, then he scampered back and dumped his finds on the steadily growing pile by the donkey.  The clang of metal on metal echoed like cracked bells through the still air.

On his next run, he ranged farther, searching for the crater where the missile had exploded.  He figured he might find the most metal there.  Then again, he might not—the blast might have hurled it in all directions, leaving metal everywhere
but
the crater.  But either way, he wanted to see it, be near it, wanted to stand in the heart of its power.

He thought he saw a depression on the far side of the field, at the base of the opposite wall of the canyon.  He ran for it.

As he neared he noticed that the otherwise smooth sand of the field was increasingly littered with shards of stone and streaks of darker earth, and how that trees surrounding the depression were broken or knocked flat.  The sparse grass smoked from fires that had already burned out. 

This was it.  The missile must have exploded here.

When he arrived at the crater he saw that the blast had shattered part of the cliff wall, causing a minor landslide into the crater.  A deep cavity there in the wall.  Almost as if...

He picked up a stone and hurled it at the hollow.  It flew into the blackness but did not bounce back.  It disappeared, as if it had been swallowed.  Then Achmed heard it strike.  Not with the solid impact of rock upon rock—with more of a
clink
.  And then a clatter.  As if it had struck something hard and thin and hollow...and broken it.

Achmed stood on the crumbling rim of the crater and stared into the blackness in the wall.  No mere blast cavity here.  This was a cave.  He shivered with anticipation as thoughts of Muhammad adh-Dhib raced through his mind.  Every Bedouin knew the story of the ten-year-old boy who discovered the first Dead Sea scrolls in Qumran, not too many miles north of here; the tale had been told around the fires for more than half a century.  And had there been a Bedouin boy since who did not dream of finding similar treasure?

“Nabil!  Nabil come quickly!  And bring the light!”

Nabil come running up.  “What is it?”

“I think I’ve found a cave!” Achmed said, pointing to the dark splotch in the wall.

Nabil snorted.  “There are caves all over these hills.”

“No.  A
secret
cave.”

Nabil froze an instant, then flicked on the flashlight and aimed the beam into the darkness.  Achmed’s heart picked up its rhythm when he saw the smooth edges of the opening and the deep blackness beyond.

“You’re right, little brother.” Nabil kept the beam trained on the opening as he moved around the rim of the crater.  “It
is
a cave.”

Achmed followed him to the mouth.  Together they peered in.  The floor of the cave was littered with small rock fragments, a thick layer of dust, and...something else.

The beam picked out an object with four short straight legs and what appeared to be a seat.

Achmed said, “Is that —?

“A bench or a chair of some sort.”

Achmed was shaking with excitement.  He grabbed Nabil’s shoulder and found that his brother too was shaking.

“Let’s go in,” Nabil said.

Achmed’s dry mouth would not allow him to speak.  He followed his brother’s lead, climbing over the pile of broken and fallen-away stone.  They entered the cave in silence.

Dry, musty air within, laden with dust.  Achmed coughed and rubbed his nose.  They approached the little bench, covered with a think coat of dust like everything else.  Achmed reached out to brush the dust away, to see what sort of wood it was made of.  He touched it lightly. 

The bench gave way, falling in on itself, crumbling, disintegrating into a lumpy pile of rotted flakes.

“Oaf!” Nabil hissed. 

“May Allah be my witness, I barely touched it!”

Apparently Nabil believe him.  “Then this cave must have been sealed for a
long
time.  This place is
old
.”

He flashed the beam around.  To the right—another bench and what looked like a low table; to the left—

Nabil’s gasp echoed Achmed’s. 

Urns.  Two of them: one lying on its side, broken; the other upright, intact, its domed lid securely in place.

“That’s what my stone must have hit!”

Nabil was already moving forward.  He angled the beam into the broken urn.

“A scroll!!”  His older brother’s voice was hushed.  “There’s a scroll in this one!  It’s torn and crumbling...it’s
ancient!
”

Achmed dropped quivering to his knees in the dust. 

“Allah be praised!  He has led us here!”

Nabil lifted the lid of the second urn and beamed the light into its mouth.

“More scrolls!  Achmed, they will be singing our names around the night fires for generations!”

“Allah be praised!”  Achmed was too overcome to think of anything else too say.

Nabil replaced the lid and swung the flashlight beam back to the broken urn.

“You take that one.  It’s already broken but
be careful!
  We don’t want to do any more damage to that scroll.  I’ll take the unbroken one.”

Achmed bent, slipped his sweating, trembling palms under the broken urn, and gently lifted it into his arms as if it were a cranky infant brother who had finally fallen asleep.  He rose to his feet and edged toward the mouth of the cave.  He didn’t need the flashlight beam to light his exit—after the deep night of this tiny cave, the moonlit canyon outside seemed noon bright.  He stepped carefully over the jumbled rocks outside the mouth, then waited on level ground for Nabil.

This is wonderful, he thought.  Our family will be rich, and Nabil and I will be famous.

He saw the hand of Allah in this, rewarding him for his daily prayers, his fasting, and his strict observance of Holy Days.  He turned and faced south, toward Mecca, and said a silent prayer of thanksgiving.  Then he looked at the moon, thanking Allah for making it bright tonight.

But the prayer choked in his throat and he nearly dropped the treasure in his arms when he noticed a figure standing atop the far cliff they had skirted to reach this canyon.  Silhouetted against the moonlit sky, it seemed to be watching him.  For a moment he was transfixed with fear, then he heard Nabil behind him.  He turned to see his brother stepping over the rubble before the cave mouth.

“Nabil!”

His brother looked up and stumbled, but caught himself before he fell.

“What
is
it?” he said between his teeth.

“Up on the cliff...”  Achmed turned to look and saw that the upper edge of the cliff was now empty.  The sentinel figure had vanished.

“What?” Nabil said, the irritation mounting in his tone.  “Finish what you begin!”

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you standing there like a blind camel?  Move!  We’ll take these back to the donkey then search the cave for more.”

They had just reached the donkey and were laying their treasures in the sand when Achmed heard something.  He lifted his head and listened.  A low hum.  No...a pulsating
thrum
.

“
Tayya’ra!
”

Nabil leapt into motion.   “Quickly!  The scrolls!  Bundle them up!”

They pulled the blankets they had brought, wrapped the urns in them, then slung them over the donkey’s back.  

“Let’s go!”

“What about the metal?” Achmed cried.

“Forget the metal!  We have a far greater treasure!  But if the Israelis find us, they’ll steal it!  Hurry!”

With Nabil pulling from the front and Achmed again switching from behind, they drove the donkey down the bank and across the wadi.  As they slipped around the leading edge of the outcrop, the sound of the helicopter grew louder.

‡

“It could be anywhere down there,” the copilot said.

Kesev stared below, watching the bright beam of the searchlight lance the darkness and dance along the peaks, plateaus, and crevasses that dominated this area of the Wilderness.  They had been running a crisscrossing search pattern for thirty minutes now.

“I think we can be pretty sure no one was hurt by this thing,” the pilot said after a few more minutes of searching.  “Maybe we’d better put this off, come back when it’s light and—”

“Keep going.” Kesev was getting the lay of the land now.  “Follow this canyon south.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the pilot and copilot exchange glances and discreet shrugs, but neither challenged his authority.

The canyon widened below them, and then the search beam picked up white wisps trailing through the air.

“Smoke!” the copilot cried.

Kesev pointed.  “It exploded on the canyon floor.”

He released a soft sigh of relief.  A glance to his left at the top of the east wall of the canyon reassured him that the Resting Place was untouched.

Close, he thought.  Too close.

And then he remembered that the canyon floor had its own secrets.

“Swing the light around,” he said.  “See if we can find the point of impact.”

It took less than a minute.

“There!” the copilot said.  “At two o’clock.  Looks like it took out part of the cliff wall too.”

Kesev went rigid in the seat.  The SCUD crater was right where the cave had been—still was.  Had the explosion—?

“Take us down.”

“Sir, we’ve accomplished our objective,” the pilot said.  “We’ve found the impact sight and determined that there’s been no personal injury or property damage, so—”

“Land this thing now,” Kesev said softly, just loud enough to be heard over the engine noise, “or you’ll spend the rest of your career working a broom handle instead of that joystick.”

The pilot turned.  For a heartbeat or two he stared at Kesev from within the confines of his flight helmet, then took the copter down.

As soon as the wheels touched earth, Kesev was out of his harness.  He pulled off his flack jacket—he didn’t need it, had only worn it because of regulations—and reached for the hatch handle.

“Stay here and train the search beam on the crater.  This will take but a minute.”

He opened the hatch and ran in a crouch through the hurricane from the whirling blades, following the path of the search beam.  He cursed as he neared the crater he saw that the cave had been exposed by the blast.  What abysmal luck!

On the other hand, how fortunate that he’d obeyed his instincts and come along to check this out.  As a result, he was first on the scene.  He could prevent this minor mishap from escalating into a catastrophe.  He skirted the edge of the crater and stepped over the rocks tumbled before the cave mouth.  Whoever was working the search beam back in the copter was doing a good job keeping it trained on him.  The cave lit up before him.