Evolution of Angels
Page 37
- Jared Lee, for the awesome artwork which allowed my visions to be shared.
- Anka for editing this novel for mistakes that were present before your review and helping me fix them. Thank you.
About the Author
I am a husband, father, author and wannabe part-time superhero (because new legislation limits the benefits and tax deductions I can receive as a full-timer) who lives in Texas. I’ve tried just about every self-starting venture known to man, and writing just happens to be one I don’t suck at...or do I? I don’t know. You be the judge.
I’ve been creating stories since before I can remember. I say creating stories and not writing them, because as a boy I had a healthy addiction to superhero action figures, and used to stage my own homemade adventures/movies in my room. Long before the days of the Avengers and the announcement of Bat-Fleck being in Man of Steel 2, superheroes all over creation were joining forces on my bed... wait, that was just last week.
Fast forward some twenty-four years, and I am releasing my first fiction Novel. Pretty cool. I feel extremely fortunate to have had enough inspiration in my life to finish it. This is actually second fiction Novel I have written. The other (which was finished well before this one) will probably see the light of day at some point... soon.
I am a sports junky, travel enthusiast, and beer connoisseur. I’ve lived in Europe and all over the States, and I can tell where in the world a person grew up by whether or not they say “as well,” “also,” or “too” even though all three pretty much mean the same thing.
I hope you enjoy my writing as much as I do (though I doubt it), and images of my characters flying through the air and crashing through the roof of your local grocery store are forever painted on your mind while you’re in the checkout line. No? Am I the only one?
This was supposed to be an “about the author”, and turned into a rambling. Whatever. As Robbie Hart would say, “Well, I have a microphone (metaphorically) and you don’t. So you will listen to every damn word I have to say.”
If you’re looking for other cool things I have written, you can check out my Fantasy Baseball series “Money Ball for Fantasy Baseball.” The 2014 edition has actually done quite well. So, hooray for me.
As always, I would love to hear from my supposed fans. You can find me on Goodreads by searching for the title of this Novel, and finding me attached to it, or stop by the Evolution of Angels Facebook page, giving it a like, and sending me a message.
Thanks be to all those who read this far, supported me through either buying this book, or encouraging me to finish it. For those of you who doubted me, or think you’re a better story teller, bring it on.
After Credits
Three cars hastily raced through the tight city streets, zipping through the rundown cement buildings that weren't more than ten feet apart at their widest points. The raggedy vehicles bobbled left and right as the bald tires skidded across the jagged cobblestone street. Lights hung off the sides of the buildings and pointed toward the road, illuminating the city signs written in Arabic.
The cars swerved left and into a major road. The groans of the tied-up man in the trunk made a muted entrance into the front cab of the middle car. The driver flipped the radio on and blasted some ethnic snakecharmer-esque music composed over electronic beats. They entered a traffic circle and drifted around, exiting on the opposite side of the roundabout. They sped over a bridge that stretched across the Nile and turned to head south of Cairo.
“They say the beasts in Russia are aliens.” the man in the front passenger seat yelled over the music, reading a tabloid. “Do you think Allah created life elsewhere?”
The driver kept his steely gaze straight ahead.
“You're a warm one, you know that, Nassim?” The passenger nodded, biting his lower lip. “Anyway, I've been doing all my prayers five times daily since I saw that on the television. Too bad it wasn't New York. Damned infidels…”
“Shut it, Amir.” Nassim, the driver, groaned through his tight jaw.
After thirty minutes of nonstop driving, running through stop signs and red lights, the Pyramids of Giza were a distant memory in the rearview mirror. The fertile grasslands and dense city structures that clung tightly to the riverbanks were sparse as the full moon and numerous stars began to reflect off the beige desert below.
The cars skidded to a halt, pulling up to the gates of an isolated compound. The barbed wired steel doors slid open and the cars slowly pulled inside. The vehicles came to a stop and were shut off. Several armed men rushed out of the compound, assisting those in the cars. They opened the trunks and pulled out several tied individuals. An entire family. Three little girls, a mother, and a father. Their hands and feet were bound and their mouths gagged.
The youngest daughter, no more than five, stretched her hands out and curled her fingers, trying to draw her father toward her. The father, an African man, struggled and pushed through the three men who held him down in a futile effort, driving his elbow into one of their jaws. Nassim smashed the blunt end of his rifle into the back of the father's head, demanding compliance.
The mother squealed while her husband was beaten and her children were dragged away. They grabbed her husband by the hair and pulled his head up, forcing him to watch as his wife was stripped naked and mounted by each man, one by one. After several minutes and seven men had their way with her, she lay motionless on the ground, crying dry tears as blood slowly trickled from between her legs. The men tossed her husband down and he crawled like a snake to her side.
He pressed his dark forehead to her creamy tan skin. Her silky jet-black hair hung over her body and covered her dark eyes. She slowly moved her fingers to his round face. His cheekbones were prominent, his nose round, and his jawline strong and curved. She pulled the gag out of his mouth.
“Ramita,” he sobbed, speaking with a posh British accent while his body trembled. Her breathing grew faint. He slithered closer to her, sat up on his knees, and kissed her head. “Darling, it'll be ok.”
“That all depends on you, Dr. Nambitu,” a man said in a thick Arabic accent. He leisurely strolled down the stairs, inhaling the last remnants of his cigarette. He flicked it away and stood over his two prisoners. “I must say, you've got exquisite taste in women. I never found Indian whores all that attractive, but when they're pretty, they are otherworldly. Are they not?”
“Abayomi,” she said, trying to lift her hand to his face. The man towering over them nodded and Nassim grabbed Ramita by her ankles and dragged her away before she could touch her husband.
“Please, I beg of you,” Abayomi pleaded, kissing the man's polished black leather shoes. Snot, tears, and drool poured from his face. “I will do anything you want, Mr. Yasser.”
“Don't slobber on my feet. That will be a good start.” Yasser backhanded Abayomi with a pistol, knocking out a few teeth. “I had very specific instructions for you. The artifact was not to leave your museum until my men arrived to retrieve it.”
“It wasn't my fault. Another event happened. It was on the news...” Abayomi sat up and Yasser slammed the pistol into his diaphragm.
“It's never anyone's fault.” Yasser knelt down and lifted his fingers in the air, snapping them. The three girls were dragged out of the building and tossed to the ground behind their father. “When I don't get what I want, I feel like a part of me has died. Have you ever experienced that, Dr. Nambitu?”
“Please... kill me instead,” Abayomi stuttered, looking over to his frightened girls. His entire body trembled as he fell to the ground and tried to crawl to them.
“Killing you does me no good.” Yasser stepped on Abayomi's back and pinned him down. He nodded at Amir who pulled the chamber back on his gun and walked over to the oldest daughter, then the middle child, and then finally the youngest. “Choose one.”
“I can't...”
“Yes, you can.” Yasser took in a long breath through his nose and rubbed Abayomi's neck. “It's easy. You just throw out a name.”
“Daddy,” the oldest, about eleven, cried through her gag as she tried to stand. Nassim walked up behind her and swiped her legs out from under her, crashing her face into the gravel.
“Stay where you are, princess.” her father cried.
A shadow soared past the giant spotlights which illuminated the courtyard, briefly casting them all in a shadow. Amir's hands trembled as he looked up to see what it was. There was nothing but black sky. In the distance, the howling of dogs sliced up his spine, nearly causing him to wet himself.
“Compose yourself.” Nassim barked to Amir.
“If you can't choose one, I will.” Yasser tapped Abayomi on the face and stood, pointing at the oldest. “It's a shame. She's almost of child bearing age. Amir, that one.”
“No, please.” Abayomi tried to stand up, but Yasser threw him to his back and pressed a knee into his face.
Amir looked at Nassim, then slowly walked over to the oldest girl. He lifted the barrel of the gun and pointed it at the back of her head, the gun rattling in his grasp. Sweat dripped down his palm while his index finger hovered over the trigger for several seconds. After a brief moment of hesitation, he lowered his gun. Abayomi let out a relieved sigh as Amir stepped away from his daughter. His calm feeling was short-lived as Nassim quickly walked behind the eldest child and shot her through the back of the head. The bullet tore through her skull and exploded through her face, sending a mesh of blood, flesh, and bone splattering off the gravel.
“My baby.” Abayomi cried, trying to slide out from under Yasser's foot.
Nassim walked behind the second child and lifted the gun to her skull. She cried for her dad, sobbing uncontrollably as he pulled the trigger. The shot shred through her head, completely blowing out her face. The howling dogs stood outside the front gates, slamming on the door. Nassim walked over to the youngest child and stood behind her, raising the gun.
A quick swooshing sound of wind crashed over the courtyard and the spotlights were ripped from their perch. A shadowy figure in the sky with wings made of forest-green and aurora-pink spun around and hurled the massive light toward Yasser, crushing him. Yasser's men turned their guns toward the sky and unleashed all they had. The bullets just pierced the air as the figure quickly vanished with a flap of its wings.
Abayomi stood to his feet and hopped over to his remaining daughter. He dropped to his knees and laid over her, shielding her from the fighting. He looked up and the winged man, adorned in silver plated armor with green and pink flowing skin underneath, crashed on top one of the cars. All of the gunfire was turned his direction. He wrapped himself up in his wings and the bullets just bounced off.
A white light shimmered from behind the wings. The figure unwrapped himself and revealed a shield on one arm and a long staff with twin blades in his other hand. The bullets ricocheted off his armor and his falcon-like face. He leapt into the air, landed in front of a group of men, and sliced through them with his weapon.
He turned his feathered head to his right and in the blink of an eye he sliced through more men on the opposite side of the courtyard. Amir tossed his gun to the ground and sprinted for the building. Nassim walked over to a stack of crates, opened one, and pulled out an RPG. He slapped the barrel open and plopped in two shots. He snapped it shut and took aim at the winged man with the head of a falcon. He pulled the trigger, shooting both blasts through the air. The winged man raised his shield and the explosion tore through the courtyard. The force from the blast lifted Abayomi and his daughter into the air and launched them across the courtyard.
Abayomi landed on a jagged pole that sliced through his stomach. Blood gushed out of his wound and he started to feel lightheaded. His feet and hands went numb while his vision slowly dissipated. He looked over to his daughter who was unconscious, but alive, and sighed with relief for the last time. His eyes rolled back and his heart stopped.
The smoke and fire vanished and Nassim pushed himself off the ground. He looked up and the falcon-faced man stood over him. He looked at the man's armor that appeared to be a rugged mesh of two different skins which were seemingly fused together and fluidly moving between one another and never fully mixing. The tall man's face morphed and the armor-clad feathers retreated from his head. Behind the skintight mask was the face of a normal looking man with features not too different from Nassim's.
“Are you a god?” Nassim asked, dropping his weapon.
“We’ve been called such,” the man replied, driving his weapon through Nassim's stomach. He pulled the blade from the gut and a rush of blood splattered out as Nassim collapsed. The winged man turned around and walked over to the little girl, scooping her up.
“I didn't do anything.” Amir cried, falling to his knees and bowing. “I pray to Allah five times a day. I didn't want to kill this family.”
“I'm not Allah, nor do I speak with him,” the man said, gently stroking the girl’s face while she slept. He looked back at Amir. “I can see your flaws and your repentance and will grant you forgiveness.”
“Thank you, my Lord.” Amir sobbed, holding his hands together and shaking them.
“My cousin, on the other hand, is incapable of such vision.” The man looked over to the gate and a massive hole erupted in the middle of it. The feathered armor reformed over his face and with one flap of the wings he was gone.
Amir looked over to the dust settling from the explosion of the gate. A tall, giant-like man stepped through. His body was adorned in gray armor with gray flowing skin underneath. His face was large, muscular, and in the shape of a jackal. The man let out a howl and then screamed at the top of his lungs. Large, slate-gray razor teeth protruded from his mouth.
Amir stood and slowly walked backwards. The large figure lumbered slowly after him. When Amir turned around to sprint away, the man was already standing in his path. Large claws grew from the man's fingers as he dug his left hand into Amir's chest, lifting him off the ground. Amir could see his own reflection in the black of the jackal-like eyes.
“Anubis,” the man with the falcon head said, hovering in the air. “Make this quick.”
Anubis nodded and then looked back down at Amir. He shredded his fingers through Amir's ribcage and ripped out the heart. He tore Amir's body in half and then discarded the remains. Large wings grew out of his back and he joined his cousin, Horus, in the air.
“We'll draw attention out in the open,” Anubis said, his long snout giving his words a slight hissing sound. “We should return to our realm at once to avoid arousing the suspicion of Michael and the others.”
“No.” Horus shook his head, looking at the little girl. “We must find the one who started this. The one my mother spoke of long ago. The one adorned in black armor and blue skin. He can reunite the Corners once and for all.”
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Jarrod will return in: Artificial Light.
“There will be war.”