The Seal of Solomon by Rick Yancey Page B

hers awkwardly resting across her chest, since she had my big self awkwardly clinging to her back. Static popped in my ear and suddenly her purry voice seemed to enter my head and lodge in the middle of my brain. The helmets were outfitted with a wireless setup.
    â€œYou okay?”
    â€œI guess.”
    She pressed a button on the console in front of her and indicator lights blinked on. I didn’t hear the engine roar to life like I expected; the thing simply started to vibrate beneath me.
    â€œHang on!” she said. I wrapped my arms around her waist as the sand-foil leaped forward and accelerated, the blades rising out of the sand as it gained speed. These sand-foils were clearly not made for two riders. My butt hung about halfway off the back of the leather seat and I worried about a stray grain of sand embedding itself into the softest part of my body.
    Looking over her shoulder, I could see the speedometer. The needle hovered just below the one hundred mark.
    Abigail Smith had said we were due east of the target, which meant we must have been heading west, but the dunes ran roughly north-south, so our race across the Sahara was run half of the time in the air, as we crested one wave, became airborne, and then smacked back down in a trough before starting up the next dune.
    The ride across the desert was like being on a roller coaster. Those rides always seemed to last longer than they really were. I raised my head and looked over Ashley’s shoulder.
    The other agents had already stopped. Straight ahead the horizon glowed a brilliant amber with little sparks flying around in the orange like sunlight reflecting off the tips of waves.
    We slowed to a stop and I slipped off, fumbling with the chin straps of my helmet. I yanked it off, wincing as it scraped over my ears. I could see Op Nine standing a few yards in front of the rest of the group, studying the glowing horizon like he’d never seen a sunrise before.
    â€œWhat’s up?” I asked Ashley, but she just shook her head. I trudged through the sand toward Op Nine, dragging my bum foot. The glow on the horizon had deepened to an orangish red. But something about this desert sunrise wasn’t right, and it took me the rest of the hike to figure it out: we were facing west, not east.
    This was no sunrise.
    Abby Smith was a few steps ahead of me and Op Nine must have heard her coming up, because she was still behind him when he turned his head and spoke.
    And now the glow on the horizon looked like a wall of fire coming toward us.
    â€œWe are too late.”

18
    â€œHow many?” Abby asked Op Nine.
    â€œIt’s difficult . . .” He shaded his eyes with one huge hand and squinted toward the sparkling light. “Thirty, perhaps forty legions.”
    â€œLegions?” I asked. “What’s a legion?”
    Abby said to him, “Not all, then.”
    He shook his head. “A search party.”
    â€œA search party of what?” I asked.
    â€œCan we outrun them?” she asked.
    He said quietly, “ ‘Their horses are swifter than leopards, and are more fierce than the evening wolves: and their horsemen shall come from far; they shall fly as the eagle that hasteth to eat.’ ”
    â€œI’ll take that as a no,” she said. “Then we engage.” She started to turn away. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
    â€œNo!” he said in a fierce whisper. “Our mission is to acquire the target. There is still time.”
    â€œTime for what?” I asked, but I really didn’t expect an answer by this point.
    Now the orange on the horizon had deepened to a fiery red mixed with bright white sparks. The stars winked out as the burning light advanced, filling the night sky, and a breeze noticeably warmer than the cool desert air began to blow across our faces.
    â€œWe must take cover,” Op Nine said. “Immediately.”
    Abby turned and started toward the others, making some