Scorching Winds

By Raymond Hickman

Book Summary
When Special Agent Michael Smith—of the F.B.I.’s Unusual Occurrences Unit—is sent to investigate strange deaths that cannot be explained, he feels a trepidation that he cannot comprehend. His father had disappeared years earlier on a strange quest—the driving force of which Mike thought was superstitious idiocy. But when Mike meets Khalid, a Muslim scholar that had been with his father in the Middle East, all of the phenomena that Mike had earlier dismissed as Muslim mythology begin to intrude into his nearly perfect world. He discovers the existence of the Djinn, creatures of terrifying power and even more horrific intentions. As Mike begins to visit scenes with the same brutal deaths as before, he meets Bruce Wilson, a Dallas-based Medical Examiner; Sgt. Frank Stevens, a Dallas homicide detective; and many other survivors along the way, and develops relationships that prove themselves imperative to his sanity—and ultimately to his survival.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 21, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469183213

Raymond Hickman

Raymond Hickman was born in Kansas City, Kansas, and he has been writing for several years. He is the author of the horror novel, Scorching Winds, and has several other novels that are being prepared for print. Raymond is an English major, an automotive technician, a father, a basketball official, and a sales manager at a huge automotive chain. He now resides in Wichita, Kansas, where he is honing his craft and building bridges for future endeavors in the art of storytelling.

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Copyright © 2012 by Raymond Hickman.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 03/28/2019

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

First of all I would like to thank God for molding my talents to fit the creation of this book, and for giving me strength through all of my adversities, shortcomings, and fears. I would like to thank my mother and the rest of my family for their calm and patient acceptance of my many faults, and I want to thank my children for being beautiful individuals; they work hard to be obedient of their mother. I would like to thank all those people who believed in me, and especially those who doubted and were critical; you were the reason for my unwavering ambition. I would like to thank Xlibris Book Publishing for giving me the opportunity to be connected to the world. Finally, I would like to thank my typist, Patricia Frank; my editor, Tyler Sheldon; my teacher William Sheldon; Shaad and Steven Moore; Mr. Moore (Pops); and all the rest of my teachers and friends at Hutchinson Community College. If there are any contributors that I didn’t mention, you are not forgotten; I will try to remember you next time! Until then, Peace, and May God bless…

Prologue

Chapter 1

Dr. Zachary Smith sat on a large hill, overlooking thousands of pilgrims who had come from all over the globe. They were visiting an area where they believed lay the lost lands of Sodom and Gomorrah. There were people floating in the water of the Dead Sea, unable to sink to the bottom because of its overwhelming salinity. Others were milling around in wonder, satisfied just being in the land where they felt God’s mighty wrath was evidenced in splendor.

He looked at the people weeping, prostrating themselves, and yelling praises, unable to control the emotions they felt after possibly waiting their entire lives for an opportunity to simply walk in the city that was supposedly where the lands were destroyed long ago from God’s wrath.

Dr. Smith had been studying religious history for over twenty years, but he was no longer satisfied simply seeing things on paper; he wanted to study the many lands where the holy word originated. He could understand some of the Arabic and Greek, and a few other languages being spoken around him, but Dr. Smith knew he had to find a translator, nonetheless; there were people he would need to speak with who used languages he had never even heard of.

Smith looked over at a man who had recently disembarked a bus arriving from Jericho. He watched the man step over to the edge of the water and stare into its depths while pulling on his untrimmed beard as if in deep concentration. The man turned to a group of Africans and spoke with them, then faced a group of Chinese men and spoke to them fluently in their language.

After the group walked off, Dr. Smith studied the man’s features, thinking that he was either Persian or possibly from India or Africa; it was difficult to tell.

The man pulled a small prayer rug off of his back and rolled it out onto the sand to pray, pausing only to stroll over to a man-made waterfall to perform his ablutions.

After the man returned and finished offering his prayers, Dr. Smith approached him and addressed him in English.

Excuse me, sir. I’m Dr. Zachary Smith from America. I was wondering if I could speak with you briefly about possibly translating for me, for a fee, of course. The man looked to be in his early forties with gray streaks in his untrimmed beard. The man responded in English, smiling.

Now, what would you need a translator for? All you’re doing is sitting back watching everyone go about their business; do you think you need a translator for that? It was Dr. Smith’s turn to smile.

I see you’re very perceptive, but I am here for a purpose, although it’s mostly of a personal nature. I am in search of a place that is rumored to be where the prophet Solomon enslaved a group of evil Djinn. There are biblical stories about the man controlling some of these beings, but I’m concerned with those who fell from God’s grace- the creatures’ that are jealous of man because of the flesh they despise. What is your name, by the way? The man had a fearful look on his face, but he eventually responded while extending his hand.

I am Khalid Ibn Malik Sadr from Iran. Why would you be concerned with something so trivial? This is a rumor that will never be verified. Who are the people you would like to communicate with?

Dr. Smith wondered about the man’s fear, but he answered, I need to speak with some of the elderly men from Jerusalem, Beersheba, and maybe Benjamin. They might know of the place I am speaking of as well as the details of the older stories. Do you understand Aramaic?

Khalid hesitated again, and the look of fear returned. With all due respect, don’t you think these things are best left alone? There have been many others in search of this same thing who have wasted their time thus. You have to ask yourself if you are really prepared for what will happen if you find what you are searching for. The Djinn may be a myth to you, just genies granting stupid wishes, but I believe they are very real, and harboring a jealous hatred as well as unbelievable powers.

Dr. Smith looked disgusted, wondering if he had been mistaken in considering this man. The last thing he needed was to be abandoned by some superstitious zealot after coming so far to accomplish something that had become close to an obsession.

But, when a group of men approached and began speaking to Khalid in what Dr. Smith assumed was French, he decided to take a chance on the man. After the group left Khalid began preparing to leave while Smith looked on in silence. Khalid suddenly began speaking without turning around.

If I help you it will only be with communication; I will not be involved in anything that can easily become a catastrophe. I live in Iran, but where will I be laying my head at night while I am here, and how much are you paying in American dollars?

Dr. Smith explained the situation to Khalid and then calmly walked to his rental Mercedes without looking back, knowing the man would follow. He drove straight to the lavish hotel he had rented for the month, and they discussed religious history well into the night. Khalid recounted the many stories of the Prophet Solomon, telling stories about the evil demon genies, as well as the ones that respected God and the man he had created. He also discussed stories of witchcraft, possession, and haunted houses, saying that all of this was associated with the genies and their mischief.

When Dr. Smith asked Khalid about the cave where the Djinn were supposedly enslaved, the man’s attitude totally changed. He completely ignored Dr. Smith, rolled out his prayer rug and performed his night prayer before stretching out on his bed, snoring almost immediately. Smith looked down at the man briefly, and turned to walk back toward the table where he had left his papers, persistent in his search for the cave of the imprisoned Djinns, though he still did not believe.

Chapter 2

Dr. Smith finished his shower and walked into the main room to see Khalid already dressed and ready to go, reading from a small booklet in what Smith assumed was Farsi.

Khalid turned when he heard the door close and greeted Dr. Smith.

Good morning, my friend! Where are we off to today?

Dr. Smith smiled and uncovered one of the room service trays, enjoying the aroma of the fish, fried potatoes, and strawberries that had been served.

We’re headed first to the Negev desert to find some of the nomads living there, but our next stop will be Ein Gedi National Park in Israel near to the Salt Sea. You don’t have a problem with this, do you? These people speak Farsi and I would be lost without you.

Dr. Smith noticed that Khalid’s fear seemed to be subsiding concerning their trip, but Smith still could see confusion on his face; Khalid still couldn’t understand why anyone would want to discover the cave.

Khalid began absently pulling on his beard, looking like a younger version of Ayatollah Khomeini, the Iranian leader.

He suddenly sat down and began heaping food onto his plate as Dr. Smith joined him at the table and shared a meal with him silently, both deep in their own thoughts.

After Khalid finished performing his morning prayer, they both loaded up extra canteens, a rifle, maps, plenty of dates, and headed into the desert after first making sure that they had two extra tires and plenty of water. Dr. Smith stared out of the passenger side window as Khalid drove, mesmerized by the beautiful Judean Mountains, and observing a goat high up on a cliff. An old man was leading a group of camels along their route, making them stop momentarily. A group of snakes Dr. Smith did not recognize made designs in the sand as they passed a lone shrub.

About thirty minutes later, Dr. Smith pointed out a group of travelers headed in the same direction as them, and motioned for Khalid to pull over and park. He stepped out and studied the three men sitting off to the side of the road, smoking pipes made of what appeared to be bone, and conversing amongst themselves. It was difficult to guess the ages of the men because their faces were weather-beaten and sunburned, but Dr. Smith surmised that they were at least in their late seventies or early eighties.

Dr. Smith approached them and said, How are you lads today? Do any of you speak English? The men smiled toothless grins and stared at Dr. Smith as if he were insane.

Khalid approached. They speak nothing but Farsi or maybe some Hebrew, but nothing else. What do you have to say to these men?

Dr. Smith extended his hand and shook with the three men as he responded to Khalid.

Ask them about the hidden cave of Solomon and if it’s somewhere nearby the Dead Sea. He stood calmly while Khalid exchanged the guttural language with the men, who suddenly seemed to have gleams in their eyes and smiles on their faces.

Khalid turned around and said, These men say that they have traveled to Ein Gedi and into the Judean Mountains to look for this cave. The three men began speaking to Khalid again while staring at Dr. Smith intently, as if they could possibly read his mind.

After the men finished, Khalid turned and began speaking again.

Dr. Smith, these men claim that a group of clerics live around the foot of the mountains and have claimed to be nearby, but have not located the entrance to the cave. They also advise you to turn around and go home; the majority of the people around here don’t appreciate the search for the caves, let alone by someone from the United States of America, the place they still call the Great Satan. Still, they said that they would direct you to these men if you’ll leave them a gift from your homeland. I guess they’re willing to negotiate after all.

Khalid smiled while Dr. Smith returned to the vehicle and began rummaging in the backseat in earnest, no doubt eager to find out where the men were located and finally begin the quest he had been searching for in earnest.

Dr. Smith backed out of the vehicle with a large duffel bag in tow, while the old men shuffled forward, looking on with interest. He pulled a folded telescope out of the bag, assembling it and demonstrating to the men before again reaching into the bag, pulling out a set of walkie-talkies and a charger.

The old men embraced them both and shook their hands, eventually giving Khalid directions to the location of the clerics, watching Khalid in amazement as he entered the information into a small computer. Dr. Smith left the men a package of gummy-bears, watching them smile and gum the soft candy while Khalid drove off blasting the horn. They drove for hours, taking turns driving, and only stopping for fuel and rations they would need. When they finally made it to the base of the Judean Mountains and located the clerics, they were too tired to do anything but curl up in the men’s tent and went directly to sleep.

Chapter 3

Dr. Smith held his light over his head, seeing thousands of bats hanging from the cave ceiling in slumber. Ihsan, their guide, spoke rapidly in a language Dr. Smith didn’t understand while Khalid followed instructions- testing the walls for clues that Dr. Smith was oblivious to.

Khalid turned to Dr. Smith. He said that this is as far as he has ever gone. The map shows another opening in the chamber, but there seems to be no exit.

Dr. Smith held his light to the wall, studying the crude drawings of what appeared to be giant people bowing to a much smaller man. He noticed writing in a language he didn’t recognize; Dr. Smith then called one of the men over to see if he could read the words. The man began to closely scrutinize the words and began a slow chant, and Dr. Smith noticed the other men had turned and were repeating the words also, as if in a trance.

Dr. Smith grabbed Khalid by the sleeve. What are they saying, Khalid, what are they saying?! Khalid had a terrified expression on his face, but he slowly responded.

They are speaking in Aramaic. What they are saying terrifies me; I believe we should leave this place immediately, look at them! The men’s eyes were rolled to the backs of their heads. Drool streamed from their mouths like rabid dogs. Each shivered uncontrollably.

Dr. Smith asked, But what is it they are saying, man?

Khalid began packing his belongings as he answered. "They are saying these words: A curse to thee who releases the evil ones of the scorching winds. They are repeating these words over and over, Dr. Smith. We should leave immediately before something happens!"

Dr. Smith looked disgusted. Would you listen to yourself, man? What could possibly happen? Just because these superstitious fools are acting….. A blast of hot wind hit them hard and shattered the lanterns they held, burning the hair off exposed skin. Dr. Smith reached for his canteen in the darkness and poured the water over his head, feeling as if his hair was going to catch fire. A single light remained in a corner of the cave, giving just enough illumination for them to see their three guides who were huddled in a corner like lost sheep, cowering from a form towering over them in the darkness.

A voice boomed deafeningly around the cave in a strange language and Dr. Smith covered his ears, looking up to see a creature that made his heart skip a beat and made his bladder release its contents. The thing stood at least ten feet above the floor; it had slits where a nose should have been, and on its head were golden dread locks. Horns were also protruding from its head, and the red of its skin matched its crimson eyes. It had massive arms and hands, which reached for something above. The screech of the bats and the smell of burning flesh let Dr. Smith know what was happening; he began seeing the dark forms falling to smolder on the cave floor. The creature looked down and Dr. Smith noticed its eyes- like red-hot coals that had been pulled out of a furnace. He scurried into a corner next to the other men, watching the creature grab one of the men around the upper body as if he were a doll, slamming him into the wall with a sickening wet sound. He looked up and saw the thing seem to change form, smoke rising off the body from the intense heat within it.

Another creature seemed to come out of the wall, spreading a pair of wings that glowed red-hot. A humanoid hand reached down, grabbed Dr. Smith’s body and clamped down on it like a vise; he let out a blood-curdling scream as his flesh sizzled where it was touched by the hand. The Djinn lowered its massive head, and its face became a mirror image of Dr. Smith’s, but with those same hateful red eyes. The head then grew considerably and the thing bent to reveal a mouth full of razor-sharp fangs. It bit down on Dr. Smith’s face, chewing and crushing his bones with a sickening crunch. Khalid lay still in the corner and pretended to be dead as he watched the Djinn feast on his companion’s flesh.

Chapter 1

Agent Michael Smith left the Hertz rental company after leaving Dallas-Fort Worth Airport in Dallas, Texas, just after concluding a strange murder investigation in St. Paul, Minnesota. He had been with the Federal Bureau of Investigation for five years, but nothing could have prepared him for the mutilation he had witnessed. Forensic Science was his major in college, so he had jumped at the first opportunity for his current occupation at the Bureau.

The scene in Minnesota was like something from a horror film; the things done to the body had people at the Bureau puzzled for weeks, and they still didn’t have answers to any of their superiors’ questions. Mike had received the call from headquarters at 1:00 a.m., and now at 8:00 a.m. he was finally on his way to the next puzzling scene.

Mike headed toward Southern Methodist University campus, marveling at all of the cars with oversized rims and music blaring up and down the streets. He was still amazed by inner-city life all over the globe; even in poverty people found a way to make something from virtually nothing. When he reached the campus it didn’t take long for him to locate the crime scene- even without using the navigation system that came with the rental car. The people were out in droves as if they were witnessing a major event. Local police were outside the crime scene tape, making sure everyone followed instructions.

A young African-American officer stepped forward as Mike ducked under the barrier, but when Mike displayed his identification the officer led him to a blood-covered mound beside one of the buildings.

Mike lifted the sheet and stared into the face of a man that had been brutalized beyond imagination. The head was partially severed and horrible burns covered the remaining portion, which was hanging by tendons and skin. The spinal cord was snapped and the head’s remaining eye was hanging out, seeping a white mucus-like substance. The man’s upper body was what sent chills down Mike’s spine, and it made him feel a fear that was unusual for him. Like the murder in Minnesota, and the one before that in Illinois, the man’s body was folded over backward. The pelvic bone was almost sure to be broken in half. From what Mike could see of the body’s legs, it had light skin. The corpse had possibly been a white man, or some person from a European descent, but half the body was blackened like meat that had been overcooked on a barbeque grill. Mike paid particular attention to the torso. He looked from the neck down to the waistline, where the man was folded back; the rear of his head was touching the soles of his bloody shoes. There appeared to be a partial handprint from the top of his chest to his groin, burned into his flesh like a brand. He at first thought of some type of primate’s handprint, but dismissed the notion, knowing there were none on earth with hands that size, or with palms hot enough to burn human flesh.

The young officer walked away while Mike inspected the body, and he eventually looked up to see the policeman returning with a man in tow that stared at Mike intensely before offering his hand.

Hello, I’m Sgt. Stevens with Dallas homicide. You’re agent Smith? Mike nodded; the man pointed toward the body and continued. "I remember seeing cadavers burned up in the trunks of vehicles and inside dwellings, but I’ve never seen one like this out in the open. Your director told me to expect you; he also enlightened me to the fact that you have had several murders similar