Cheri

"I hate cultists. I hate cultists. I hate cultists." I really hate them when they smack me in the back of the head with something heavy, drag me off and toss me places like a sack of … something. Total assholes, they smell bad and they walk funny.

I opened my eyes to see a ring of faces, some veiled, some very young and a tongue. Gah! The dog licked me. She was a nice dog. I hate being licked. "Euw! Nice dog." I pushed her back and rolled over on my stomach because my head hurt. "Ow. Okay." Getting to my feet was fun, then a couple of the women came over to support me. Unfortunately, I did not understand their dialect. Communication zip.

"Sorry. I don't speak the language."

"You speak English?" one heavily accented voice asked. She was an older woman, frightened looking, but curious.

"Yes. You're all here? No one's been taken out?"

"Babies. Three of them have been taken. They did not come back," she told me, looking at a trio of women squatting at the edge of the enclosure, rocking. "They lost husbands and sons, now the babies …"

"Boys?"

Her eyes rounded. "How did you know?"

"It's ok. I'm not a part of it. I just don't know exactly how we're gonna stop them ..." And I didn't. Separated from the soldiers, I had no way of knowing whether they were going to get Alex out to find Troy and Pvt. Hitchcock. I didn't know when the alignment happened, how soon and exactly what they were going to do.

"What do they want? We know nothing. They came, they killed and took us. They have said nothing to us. They give us water, they toss us food, but not enough for everyone. Who are they? What are they doing?"

Oh, great. What did I tell her? That they're monsters who were going to sacrifice them to open a gate to a being so powerful it did not care … "Can you translate? I know what I've seen before, I know what I think they're up to, but I think we need to get the word out to all of your people. Can we do that?"

"I will try. I will try to get them to listen to you."

She moved off leaving me to sit on the sand and try to get my wits back into order. What did I know? That the things smelled like fish left too long in the sun, and not in a good way? Fish jerky they were not. That this structure of stones did not belong here, nor did the swamp. That the Germans and Allies would be happy to dispose of the cultists, if they had their weapons; which they did not. Damn, we could use a sorcerer. Or a god.

It occurred to me that the oasis at Ahm Shere was dedicated to the god Anubis. If what O'Connell had told me was true, then something had given form to the Scorpion King and to the legions of Anubis. Gods tend to be jealous things, especially when something else is horning in on their turf. Damn, Bey was in the other stockade. Oh hell. Ok, then maybe something else would come along. Unfortunately, my ace in the hole was not inclined to answer at the moment. We'd had a falling out.

The lady returned followed by the women, all of them, including fourteen goats and two dogs. No wonder the enclosure stank. I'd get used to it. Goat was better than rotting fish … I think.

I explained, Nasira translated, the women became more inclined to lament loudly than they had been before they knew what was likely coming. I played down the issue of rescue. There was no way to figure out what Troy was thinking. He could decide to just wash his hands of the whole thing, except Moffitt was in here along with Pvt. Pettigrew. Troy was not the man to abandon his people if he could find a way to rescue them. Go Sgt. Troy!

A small, slender, wrapped up sort of figure stepped forward. Covered from head to toe in what looked like a white bur-qua, she slid across the sand until she stood before me, then knelt and touched her head to the sand. Some of the others drew away from her as she passed them and there was much whispering behind hands going on. I looked to Nasira for some sort of indication as to what the … heck was happening. Nasira was backing away, not forthcoming at all.

"I also speak English," the woman told me. "I suspect I am the reason these are gathered here. I am a curse upon my people."

Huh? Excuse me? Funny, you don't look like a curse. Well, I couldn't tell that yet, because I couldn't see anything but bur-qua "Short explanation, please? Somehow, you're in the wrong place to be related to Deep Ones …"

The others turned their backs suddenly, not moving any farther away, but not looking? The woman before me sat up, caught the hem of her all encompassing walking hideaway and pulled it up to reveal a very blue eyed, white haired girl of about sixteen. She was startling looking, but hardly what I'd call a curse.

Then again, I'm not an Arab, Bedouin or other African desert dweller.