Wake of Destruction

By Vince Olech

Frank Burgess; All-American badass; retired from the military as a sniper, now working as a mercenary and for years for a secret group under the umbrella of the CIA, called Chaparral Group.
Frank’s boss, William Land has aimed at world domination from a youth and will stop at nothing to achieve his goal. He sends Frank on a journey to Africa to find a mysterious medallion that will help him on his quest. One that countless civilizations have found, and been destroyed by.
Along the way Jack finds his best friend, Tony, dead, whom he has not been able to get in contact with for years.

As the story develops, Frank starts taking this whole mission personally, and makes it his cause to find out for sure who Tony’s murderer was and to kill him.
Of course, it is William, who has been a thorn in Frank’s side for decades. Most countries around the world are after the same mysterious medallion, as is William’s boss, Theresa, who is the head of Chaparral Group. She is working in cahoots with the President of the U.S. who wants all of this “for the country.”

Frank sets out on a personal mission, killing along the way where necessary and finding people dead along the way that William has killed.

Frank eventually comes out on top after some close calls, being imprisoned, fighting an enemy from years ago, and annihilating the structure where William worked to try and get things done.
Frank returns all of the objects to an older woman who was married to another of Frank’s good friends, a professor who led the research for getting the medallion into working order.

Frank is relentless, working with worldwide contacts, extracting information and devising ingenious ways to stop William at all costs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vince Olech
• Release date: May 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9780996323529

Book preview

Chapter 1

Green light, green light, green light!!! Frank jumped as hard as he could, flinging himself from the back of the cargo plane, along with twenty other grease-painted, camouflage-wearing, gun-toting secret operatives. They were immediately sucked out into the frigid night air. Tucked into tight balls, they whirled past the tail portion of the aircraft. Falling away from their warm shell for the past three hours, each counted silently before pulling their ripcords.

The drone of the four massive turboprop engines faded, replaced with the quiet rush of air streaming past their bodies as they waited for parachutes to open. Each one in turn felt the rude snap as it popped open, slowing their descent, letting them drift silently into the Congo.

Frank Burgess: ex-military, sniper, well rounded man. He looked around on this clear, moonlit night and saw ten of the twenty men with him, and most importantly, his partner for the mission, floating along in the breezy night air.

This current mission was being undertaken by a group of well-disciplined mercenaries, who Frank had been working with on and off for about five years. No one knew where the others came from and all knew not to ask (You wouldn’t get an answer if you did). Everybody hailed from parts unknown which suited them fine.

Frank checked his wrist-mounted altimeter calculating in his head his rate of descent and hoped he had corrected properly for the wind, which by now was whipping with gust-like force. Unnerving when you were falling from thirty thousand feet. The men had to pay careful attention to their positions and the wind or risk being blown off course by miles.

Frank loved falling silently through the black mist of the night. It was a cool soft hand on his life, affording much needed calm amidst so much he had to accomplish once he hit the ground. He inhaled, letting that air excite his lungs, once he was low enough to remove his oxygen mask. MMMM he thought. Frank never seemed to relax, yet in this inky blackness he drifted and closed his eyes. Minutes of blessed calm seemed only a few seconds.

When he opened them, SPLASH! GLUB! Ungghhh. What the fuck! He shouted, hitting the thirty-degree water like slamming into a brick wall. Oh, shit, real professional Frank. Way to go, how about castrate us all in the middle of goddam nowhere!

Splash, splash, thud, Ugghh, as everyone hit the water.

Frank chortled quietly to himself, having company in his misery and counted as all of the team landed and moved to their predetermined rally point.

Frank was not excited about this particular mission. Sure, the pay was going to be phenomenal, if they got paid. He only suspected this due to the track record of one Colonel William T. Land Ret., who organized most of his previous missions.

Why oh why did Frank agree to this mission? Two reasons: One, he hadn’t heard from his best friend Tony in over six months and was running out of excuses to tell his wife. Secondly, the area of the Congo they were going was remarkably close to where he had figured Tony went on his last mission. He hoped to find him or some trace of him along the way. Oh, and as previously mentioned; the pay was going to be phenomenal.

Once everyone was huddled around a small, but warm and inviting fire, Frank gave out their assignments for the journey ahead. Three teams of six would fan out and cover a broad stroke from north to south, pushing in a westerly direction. Frank and his partner, Moloch would head directly west. West was a much narrower and twisted route, mandating only two people at best and they had to be extraordinarily skilful. The mercenaries on this particular mission were adept, but this was the fourth time Frank and Moloch worked together out in the swamps and mire of some remote abysmal and tortuous landscape.

They were on the lookout for a strange and unusual object of some great significance to mankind in general and Land in particular. The details given in Frank’s brief at the headquarters of the Chaparral Group in Washington, D.C. were a bit sketchy, but thorough enough for him to complete his mission in the required amount of time; hopefully.

This object was metallic in appearance and no bigger than the palm of a man’s hand. Yet, it held the answers and significance to all of mankind’s woes for all time. Right, Frank thought. He didn’t much care for Land, but knew his own place in the hierarchy of the government, though he was now a private contractor of sorts and had a bit more leeway in what he could say and do and get away with.

There is an inscription, Frank went on to explain to his men, containing a picture of some constellation or something corresponding to a mathematical equation and several pages of ancient text. It gives off power, gets you to it; hell I’m not too sure about all of the details.

Please, show us the drawing of the object Moloch asked. When Frank unrolled the hand drawn map, Moloch’s eyes grew as wide as saucers.

Moloch, what the fuck! You look like you saw a ghost.

I did Frank, I did, was all he would say.

Everyone else started to get a little uneasy about this whole affair. Not only were they supposed to find something small and apparently insignificant, but now their Congo ally and guide had turned from black as coal to the color of faded leather and would not speak.

To say Moloch was a big man would favor understatement. He stood six-and-one-half feet tall and for all outward appearances, he was about as wide. He had a thick neck not so much descending from the sides of his head, but forming one huge mountain of muscle extending from the tops of his shoulders to below his ears. His outstretched hands looked as though they could fell trees and they were backed up with arms bigger than most men’s legs.

Yet, Moloch sat there, eyes transfixed on the picture, his breathing now coming in short gasps and Frank thought he might be going into shock.

LOOK, everyone needs to get humping the hell out of here if we’re going to rendezvous by fifteen hundred hours three days from now. Now, get going! And remember security on the radios. No talking unless absolutely necessary. And limit conversation to no more than thirty seconds. GO!

The teams slithered into the shadows and in moments were gone without making a sound. Frank tamped out the fire and re-packed the dirt and covered the spot with brush. No need to leave our mark.

In the dark, Frank could hear the heavy breathing of Moloch. Five minutes later, his breathing slowed and Frank spoke to him softly. Moloch, we have to finish this mission. There is no way out of here except on the transport assigned us on the other side of the fucking jungle. Let’s get moving and come first light, I need to know what it is about this thing that’s got you so jumbled up.

Frank, if we make it to first light, I will tell you all I know. And I don’t think you’ll like what you’re going to hear.

Chapter 2

The sun crept up over the horizon, pointing shards of light through openings in the forest canopy. Frank awoke with a start. The fingers of light danced across his eyes. He wasn’t sure where he was and nothing seemed real. His head was groggy and his joints ached. Frank looked down at his watch and realized he had been asleep for only three hours; on top of having been up for forty hours planning their mission.

Good morning Mr. Frank, Moloch’s deep and resonant voice echoed from somewhere beyond the bushes near Frank’s head.

Hmmm, good morning sweetheart. Any coffee for the weary?

None for you. While you were enjoying your beauty sleep, I was going over this poor map and have decided your route sucks. We shall go by way of the river three miles due north of here. It will take us much closer to the Temple and will offer protection as well.

Well, thank you for your diligent efforts. I mean, because your anxiety closet was open all night; don’t take things out on me, since I’m not superstitious, too.

Frank, sometimes you are a fool.

Now wait a minute bub. We’re here because we are the best of the best in the spook-for-hire world. I personally didn’t get my reputation by wincing like a little pussy each time some ancient prophecy reared its ugly head. Hell, I’ve killed more dumb motherfuckers ‘cause they were paralyzed by those same worries and fears.

If you will S H U T U P for a few minutes, I will tell you amazing things. But we must first be going and rapidly. I heard other patrols out last night and they weren’t our men. I don’t know what kind of shit Land is trying to pull, but I’m not going to get caught here while the situation goes FUBAR because my partner and I are having a marital spat.

Well, what took you so long, let’s go slow poke. In one smooth movement, Frank donned a camouflage hat while disappearing through an opening in the brush, slithering like a snake. Moloch stood there for a moment trying to make sense of what transpired then dove headlong down a smooth hill to his left.

Frank emerged near the edge of a small stream, letting his eyes adjust to the darker climate, when Moloch came sliding by in the mud and disappeared into the water like some kind of black, two-legged Loch Ness monster. Frank quietly laughed at them both. When Moloch resurfaced, Frank asked him to please explain what was so damn mysterious about this object they were tasked with finding.

They continued throughout the remainder of the day, wallowing in mud, trudging through saw grass and generally having a slow go at things. The rest of the team wasn’t moving much faster.

Frank would have liked to use his GPS to keep track of their progress and exact locations along the way. He and Moloch discovered after several minutes of trying to establish a satellite connection, something was amiss. The initial login screen appeared, but went blank after a few seconds and wavy lines rolled across, while the unit emitted foul screams. Frank and Moloch turned toward each other, a knowing glance swept across both of their faces, Land; they spoke simultaneously.

My big friend, it seems as though someone doesn’t want us to succeed.

Exactly what I was thinking. What do you bet this same someone is watching our every move?

Bastard.

Ironically, they were well ahead of schedule, and hoped they could keep on the right track.

There were brief radio transmissions from the other teams reporting odd activity in the area. For all of their pre-planning and intelligence gathering and being damn sneaky about the whole affair, how could other special operations groups move in on the same goal?

The grid coordinates indicated they should be moving in a more northerly direction, but Moloch insisted, according to his tribe’s folklore, they were on the right track. Right track? Hmmph, Frank thought. This right track was leading them deeper into thick marsh and almost utter darkness of entwined vines, branches, trees and shrubs. Their forward progress slowed to only several yards per hour. The temperature was over one hundred degrees and the humidity was unbearable.

In order to secure the new government in a small country, they had to locate one of the most prized possessions in of all history. To find it, they had to locate a temple, used by the ancients to harness the power of this mysterious object. The wielder of the object would be treated to a life of conquest, power and riches far beyond the wildest of imaginations. Moloch was relating many of these facts to Frank as they slithered along their slimy path toward an unseen goal. What they did not know was at that moment; William Land was monitoring their movements via satellite imagery and with tracking devices hidden within their weapons.

Land salivated with the anticipation of discovery. He sat alone in a secret corner of his Washington office, illegally using most of the tracking software available to the CIA. Feeds which had been re-routed years ago for the exclusive use of several never talked about counter intelligence groups operating under the umbrella of the CIA, but wholly distinct from them. These groups had the freedom to infiltrate strata of foreign governments the United States could never do officially.

William Land was the head over the section closely resembling both the National Intelligence Council and the Directorate of Science and Technology of the CIA; code named, Chaparral Group.

Chapter 3

For years, the development of the CIA was wrought with turmoil, inconsistency and misguided morals. The United Sates as a whole was slow to realize what George Kennan emphasized in 1946: The Soviets were impervious to the logic of reason, but highly sensitive to ‘the logic of force’. The enemy must always remain centered in our sights and focused upon with unrelenting diligence.

Too many times and under too many circumstances the CIA failed to gather the appropriate information to positively change the tidal course surging throughout the world. And not only with the Soviets, but also with the continued rising tide of terrorist organizations. Not until Eisenhower was the concept conceived and born of a smaller faction within the government, capable of infiltrating and removing obstacles standing in the way of democratic thought around the globe. Land had worked for this one going on fifteen years now, stumbling upon one of its front organizations while serving over in Germany as a much younger man.

The man responsible for much of the electronic wizardry available to Land and his men worked diligently, making sure they could operate with independence. The government knew information needed to be disseminated, but had to remain innocent if anything blew up. If anyone operating in any of these non-sanctioned organizations was ever discovered the United States government needed deniability.

The only person who could access the Director of these groups was the President himself. Information was passed from one President to the other, each understanding the fate of our way of life was literally at stake if word ever got out about what was going on. After a few years, the wheels were rolling in the right direction for these groups to remain in force regardless of what some one individual may think. It’s amazing how the grinding of bureaucracy can work to your favor when allowed to build its own momentum.

Seventy two hours ago Frank’s current adventure into the Congo began. He was forced awake by the beeping, chirping and honking of his paging device, which was always either on or near him. Geez, two o’clock in the morning. Don’t they ever plan anything for daytime hours? Frank traveled the ten miles from his house in the woods to the Chaparral headquarters where Land and a team of intel geeks awaited his arrival.

Glad to see you decided to grace us with your presence. Land was taunting as Frank entered the war room. I know you’re not all excited about another mission so close to your last, but hear me out. I think you will be pleasantly surprised with the magnanimity of this and the pay out as well. We have a situation brewing in Eastern and Southern Africa. Several different tribes have sworn death to each other in spite of years of peaceful treaty negotiations. We think, rather, we know the cause.

As Land was speaking, a holographic image appeared above the conference table. It took Frank a moment to realize the image portrayed was some kind of disc or medallion, he couldn’t yet tell for sure.

This object, Land went on to say "represents the quest for power from before recorded history. Every man or nation wielding this talisman has conquered entire civilizations and changed the course of history. The Ancient Babylonians were the only ones ever able to tap its resources near capacity and they screwed up to the point of continental division.

Unfortunately, the written schematic going along with the object was lost. Pieces and fractions of information have survived or been re-transcribed, but nothing ever to the magnitude of what once was. Why do we need to get this? Frankly, we are the only country who can successively hold it, study it and find a way to destroy it. This object has survived thousands of years of murder, deception and forgeries, only to have ended up in some godforsaken temple in the vast confines of the Congo forest."

Land looked on the curious faces present, watching as brows wrinkled and minds churned.

Don’t worry how we know. It is not your job. Realize only what lies ahead of you is a wonderful opportunity to bring a halt to so much bloodshed and turmoil in the world once this object is found and eventually destroyed.

Frank committed the image to memory before the picture was shut off. The sight of it was unnerving and he began to wonder about his best friend Tony, whom he hadn’t seen in a very long time.

Frank! Frank snapped out of his preoccupation.

You have been selected because of your vast background in that part of the world and your contacts with all of the local mercenary groups. Once this meeting has adjourned, you and I will sit down and plan your mission, and you will get to pick your team from selected files I happen to have at my disposal.

While trudging in near darkness, the thoughts of his meeting with Land kept coming back from the recesses of his mind. Something didn’t fit. Moloch kept talking. The ground was cold and wet, soaking through his pants. During a brief respite in their movements, Frank’s curiosity was burning from the snippets of information Moloch had been sharing along the way.

Moloch, what is this piece of metal / talisman we’re supposed to be finding?

I’m glad you finally asked. It dates back to antiquity and is responsible for the rise and fall of many thousands of generations of people. What I know of its physical make up is its extreme hardness; much harder than a diamond. It is round and always cold to the touch, no matter how long you hold onto it.

Frank and Moloch continued their quiet conversation while forging along the endless trail of darkness and slime. Fascinated about the metallurgy of the whole thing, Frank wondered how it could be constructed here on earth. Whoosh, wait a minute, he thought. Don’t get all caught up in weird science fiction bullshit UFOers are always trying to pawn off as truth. Get a grip, there not only has to be, but is a logical explanation for how this thing came into existence. And it doesn’t have anything to do with space creatures or visits from benevolent super beings.

Still, he had to wonder how something so apparently irrelevant, commanded so much fear and respect at the same time. Was it all a hoax? Was there any validity to the mounting hooplah? Or were they on another well paid, wild goose chase, leading them nowhere, but into the arms of assassins, at the malevolent hands of Land?

As I was saying, Frank; it also holds keys to the heart of the universe and can only be understood fully when light meets darkness on a meridian, within a designed arena.

Oh, and I guess we’re supposed to be going to this arena?

Precisely.

Shhh, get down, stay low, don’t move. Frank hissed as he motioned toward Moloch with his hand. Moloch flattened himself out immediately into the soft earth, while Frank did the same. Minute after minute went by, and the only sounds were of the meandering creek behind them and the occasional rush of the wind in the trees.

Moloch was wondering what it was Frank saw. This was weird. He felt, then saw the results of it. Tremors in the earth; an earthquake? Frank raised his head like a squirrel scanning for danger, sniffed around then motioned for Moloch to meet him at the end of their path where the vines separated.

Moloch, what the fuck?! There aren’t supposed to be any earthquakes in this part of the world.

I guess someone forgot to tell the earth.

Smartass.

I think we’re close to target. The best I can figure, we need to make the clearing beyond these thickets to scope out a bearing.

Frank and Moloch hugged the ground and inched forward on their stomachs. Enemy patrols were everywhere and could be at the site they themselves were trying to find. Each man grabbed pieces of grass, pulling himself along the ground as if they were swimming in the mud. Smooth, powerful calculated strokes propelled them along without sound, leaving an almost invisible trail behind.

Chapter 4

Before sticking out beyond the final shred of concealment, Frank and Moloch waited for painstaking more minutes, listening for any other movement, smelling anything out of the ordinary and feeling the various vibrations, changes in wind and temperature and the flow of energy around them both. Finally, Frank pushed his head through, and gasped out loud.

Frank, what is it? Moloch asked through clenched teeth.

Here, come look for yourself.

Great mother of mercy! Moloch gasped. I never thought I would see the day when we found the temple to the great gods of the source.

Moloch bowed his head, muttering something softly only to himself. This is what I have dreamed about! This is awesome, this…wait a minute.

Moloch grabbed Frank’s shoulder and lowered his voice to a serious tone. If we’re here, then where are all of the other groups?

What do you, oh shit. All of the other coordinates led miles away from here. Aw, fuck, we’re being set up. I don’t how yet, but set up for sure. I don’t see any other slow, dumb fucks willing to take on whatever wherever, ‘cept us right here, right now. Makes me wonder how come all of this tremor bullshit is happening when we’re about to hit pay dirt. Either the gods of whatever in the hell it is we are looking for are pissed off, or someone has planned to fuck us but good. And I think I know who ‘someone’ is.

Surely you can’t be talking about your man, Land?

You said it my dark skinned fellow.

The temple was absolutely magnificent. It had somehow stood through time without being conquered by the jungle. The great stone pillars supporting the main entrance rose seventy-five feet high and were twenty feet in diameter. Each vertical groove of the columns, ten in all, contained delicately carved hieroglyphs. It was yet undecipherable by either Frank or Moloch. They knelt silently in awe of the splendor.

Beyond the pillars, interspersed along the main entrance were stones carved out of pure gold. The walls along the sides reflected a radiance from somewhere within the temple, for there was not enough light outside yet to cause such a manifestation. There must have been twenty different kinds of stones, all designed to reflect light and focus it along the path of the main corridor.

As they began to study more of the details, Frank and Moloch noticed it was turned in a unique direction. Most temples were built facing north. From the beliefs of magnetic power, the rising and setting of the gods of the sun, and the most efficient use of daylight leaving the least amount of shadows. This structure was at an off-angle, facing more southeast. The sun diffused through several hundred slits in the outer super structure of the building, then radiated back and forth off of all of the precious stones. To look at this monstrous thing of beauty was breathtaking. Frank and Moloch fought the urge to rush in and experience first hand, the wonders of what lay inside, professionalism taking over before they went headlong into dangerous territory.

Frank and Moloch split up. They wanted to investigate as much as possible before the next tremor or earthquake hit. They also took note about the enemy patrols in the area. As they were finalizing their plans, two other countries were represented not more than a quarter of a mile from them.

Chinese Special Forces operators were east of their position, still slogging through the tangled mess called jungle. To their west and slightly south were the Turks. They were moving a bit faster than the Chinese, having decided to forgo some security for speed. Unfortunately for them, but fortunately for Frank and Moloch, both teams were traveling off course. At their respective current tracks, they would meet up with each other about two miles past where the temple now stood.

Chapter 5

Frank and Moloch continued toward their objective; the interior of the temple. Reports held there was an inner sacrificial chamber. Within, they would find clues to locate the mysterious object. The walls felt warm as Frank allowed his hands to glide along their surface. The floors though polished to a high luster, were not slick. Frank strained his ears but heard nothing no matter how hard he tapped his feet on the floors.

Moloch was busy inhaling the atmosphere of this place, so heavy with hope and promise for his people. They were both traversing long, raised walkways spiraling up, up, up, with no visible end in sight. Frank tried to make scientific sense out of it all, but it did not fit. His legs burned. Surely he had been climbing for hours and must have reached the ceiling level by now, but his path continued upward into the black above. Once, when he leaned against the walls, a stony bump relinquished under the pressure and he felt the whole building tremble.

Frank stopped. What was this place? Why was it so spooky? He did not believe in witch craft and ghost stories, but had an uneasy feeling about being in this place. What happened to all of the light miraculously dancing off of the stones at the entrance? It had to come from somewhere or go somewhere. There was an eerie chill in the air cutting right through Frank’s clothes. It ran down his neck and when the cold hit his back, his skin tightened and he shook as if he was naked in the snow. Holy motherfucker. What is with this place?

He felt rumblings in the floor. Small tremors at first, then rising in intensity and amplitude. WHAM! The force of the blow from beneath lifted Frank off of the floor. Panels flew through the air as if they were pieces of paper. Walls crumbled into powder and when Frank landed, a massive boulder-sized chunk of column landed only millimeters from his head. Holy shit, another earthquake!

Frank thought briefly of shouting for Moloch, but realized he would be dealing with his own pitiful attempts at survival. So this is it. All of the missions and all of the wonder and all of the men killed and it comes down to dying in some forgotten country in some equally forgotten temple with no one to remember me when I’m gone. Damn fine shame I’ve gotten myself into now. A stone the size of a man’s fist slammed into his upper back knocking him out of his momentary distraction. Uggghhhh! Goddammit that hurt! What the f….

Before Frank could finish cursing, the entire floor of the temple gave way revealing a cavernous opening below, gleaming with light. Sand filled in from all sides and his momentary glimpse into another surreal world vanished as rapidly as it was exposed.

Well, to hell with this, I am outta here.

He turned and took one step toward his entrance, but stopped short and looked back down into the abyss. Peripheral vision caught sight of a metal fin, or something resembling the stabilizer on an airplane. How could a rocket ship or any other kind of ship get built into the temple walls? Especially considering the temple was built two thousand years ago?

Frank stared, drinking in every detail until forced to move and run for his life. The floor tile he was standing on broke away from under his feet. Frank jumped as high as he could, and landed, or rather fell on his left side. Shaking his head, he looked through blurred vision and sharp changes of color toward the main entrance. It was blocked with a twelve-foot high mound of gravel. Another shocking concussion slammed Frank into a wall which collapsed under the force of his weight.

A hand! Aaaahh! In the mounting confusion, Frank somehow recognized what was clutched in this hand. The object! He greedily reached out and snatched it, or tried to snatch it. He peeled the fingers swollen with rigor off of the object, one by one. Getting it free, Frank noticed the palm was charred. Radiating burns traveled up the forearm. In the next moment, his world went funny. Frank fell to the ground, dizzy and cold, but at the same time calm and peaceful.

Tearing a piece of cotton cloth from his waistband he wrapped this object into it several times before tucking it down the front of his pants. Frank wasn’t sure his crotch was the best place for it, considering how it affected him, but he couldn’t risk getting it found out, not right now. If Frank had known what the medallion was capable of, he wouldn’t have put it there.

There only remained one small problem; how to get out of this fucking hell hole. All was now dark and dust filled. Ear shattering screams of crumbling stone, rocking earth and creaking timber echoed in the thick, acrid air. Frank took a moment to ponder his next move. A loud explosion from outside the main wall in front of him shattered it into tiny fragments. Frank rode the concussion wave into another pile of rubble. Man, this shit has got to stop.

Frank pushed against the ground, his arms shaking, feet wobbling atop the loose rubble. His ears oozed blood as he stood on his feet. A large and very bloody black man’s arm jutted in front of his face, his neck was clamped by a black man’s hand. Rudely yanked from the ground he was hurled out into the open air. Ah, fresh air, sunshine…., freedom? The remnants of the temple fell into the abyss, which Frank first saw from the inside. He looked around to see Moloch kneeling beside him with tears in his eyes and then they both heard it. Gunfire.

Sporadic at first, then continuous; followed by several loud explosions. It sounded close, but distant at the same time. It was coming over the ridge to their north. Frank and Moloch ran headlong in a sideways direction. It could be a trap and the unseen forces were trying to herd them in the opposite direction. After moving east, for about a hundred yards, Frank and Moloch dropped down into the high grass and slithered the rest of the way to the crest of the hill on their bellies. Once on top, they could see fifteen hundred feet down into an expansive valley.

There was fire, smoke and the stench of burning flesh. And the smoke, the smoke was incredible; spiraling skyward in voluminous columns, blocking out the noonday sun. Frank could see some of his team either dead or dying. They lay sprawled across the grass in contorted positions, some with missing limbs, some bleeding in place. How did they get here? Were they set up from the beginning?

There were others, too, wearing uniforms he did not recognize. Non-descript individuals moving with the calculated grace and efficiency of well trained personnel, the look of death in their eyes. This is not the place for us to be. Moloch, come on, let’s move! Moloch glared at Frank, wanting to stay and fight for his friends.

Two of us against what? A hundred of them? No ammo, no knives, nothing except our wits and at least, our hides. This is a wash, we have to move east down the mountain or we’re screwed for sure.

Moloch could see the groups of soldiers down below mounting their offensive toward the temple’s previous direction, for now it lay in shambles, nothing more than a pile of rubble where once magnificence stood. Frank and Moloch moved down the hill bumping against and sliding off of sharps rocks, headed for the dense vine entangled mess of the jungle below. They stayed away from the river, choosing rather to parallel it several yards off of the bank, avoiding patrols to eliminate any would-be survivors. Their progress slowed to slow exaggerated steps, knots of angry roots reaching up at them.

Frank said nothing about finding the object and pulled off an acting debut when Moloch asked him about it. He knew Frank must have been in or near the main sacrificial chamber, based on his own positioning and personal knowledge of the interior design. Frank forced out a sob and feigned some actual belief in Moloch’s earlier professions regarding the history and desire of this thing. He was so close; he could almost feel the object calling to him. Moloch was eating this up.

Chapter 6

On this mission Moloch’s temperamental behavior poked at Frank, small needles relentless in his mind. Yes, they served successfully together on several missions, and Moloch always proved a great partner. But, his strange behavioral quirks caused Frank to wonder. Moloch always had to be the first one up in the morning. When Frank tried to beat him out of the sack, there he was, sitting in the shadows, contemplating something. Moloch always said he had to pray of sight and hearing, for his gods were jealous gods and demanded exclusive personal audience. Frank wasn’t the most trusting fellow, so he kept his finding to himself, for now. He played along as sincerely as he could with Moloch’s religious crusade thinking. Moloch, on the other hand thought he was playing Frank.

Moloch made up most of the story from bits and pieces he heard from his grandmother while growing up in Brooklyn, NY. The legends were true as far as Moloch knew, but he felt compelled to ad-lib as the need presented itself. Yes, he did move to the Congo when he was ten years old, but was by no means a native of this area; a secret only he and his family knew. He enjoyed watching Frank buy into this mystery, and asked probing questions over and over to find a weakness in Frank’s thinking.

Moloch was genuinely upset at not finding the object. Land would not be well pleased with him when he found out. Moloch began to rationalize his explanation for their failure from the standpoint of natural disasters, etc. but realized it never did matter to Land why a mission failed. There was never a good reason, and unfortunately, men died when things went awry. Hmmmm, how will Moloch figure all of this out to save his own bacon; Fuck Frank, I need the money and I need to stay alive.

While Moloch pictured scenario upon scenario in his mind’s eye, contemplating all of this, Frank sat still, behind a rough clump of brush, observing him from no more than three feet away. Taking only short, shallow breaths Frank trained his hearing to try and decipher Moloch’s mutterings.

Seconds later, Moloch was communicating via a miniature device no bigger than the palm of a man’s hand. From the antenna, Frank recognized it as a kind of satellite burst device. A much smaller version of ones he used many times while in the military. The device sent out a coded message sounding garbled or like loud bursts of white noise if anyone tried to intercept.

On the receiving end, one needed a decoding device with a computer to process the incoming signal and reassemble it from artificially structured binary code, into intelligible audio. Glad I haven’t said anything about this. Frank looked down briefly at the object, now glowing slightly in the fading daylight, as he tucked it back down inside his pants. I wonder what fuck head is all about? I wonder if he’s been bought out by Land? Hmmph, par for the course.

Funny, Frank and Moloch served together on many missions and saved each other’s ass more than once. Now they would be at the point of total distrust of each other. Frank felt duped, but at the same time relieved to find this out now rather than later, when Moloch had a knife to his throat while he was sleeping.

Sometimes life is unpredictable. You go along day in and day out and nothing seems too out of the ordinary. Sure, there are those little quirks, but they could be caused by anything. Then, there is some significant event where you are stopped in your tracks as if hit in the face by a steel pipe. When your mind stops reeling from the blow, you begin to realize many of those little occurrences were glitches in the program. I guess hindsight is better than 20/20.

Frank couldn’t be furious with