want to admit I’m right. Nobody would allow billions to die just to save a single life.” I shrugged. “At some point, the needs of society outweigh our own needs. That exact point may differ between people, but we all reach it.”
“Like I said, it’s a dumb question. How could I even be sure your death would save all those lives?”
“It’s not meant to be a real question,” Graham said. “It’s a thought exercise. You know, like whether it’s okay to torture a person in order to locate a ticking time bomb.”
“That question is just as dumb,” she replied. “How can we be sure the torture will actually yield the correct location? What about blowback? And do you really think—?”
“You’re missing the point,” he said. “The idea is to force you to choose between your principles.”
“Look, I don’t want anything bad to happen to us,” I said. “But I got into this business to save artifacts, to save the past. If I wasn’t willing to risk my life to do that, I wouldn’t be very good at my job.”
The wind picked up speed. Particles of dirt slashed against the windshield. “How’s my direction?” I asked.
“Hang on.” Graham pressed his eyes into his binoculars. “Okay, I’ve got a visual on the wreckage. It’s about two hundred yards away. Keep straight and watch out for the hills.”
“How’s it look?” Beverly asked.
“Intact for the most part.” His fingers tightened around the lenses. “Also, strange. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
The truck jolted as it shot over a small hill. My teeth clashed as the tires smacked against the soil.
In the distance, I saw a series of large hills and small mountains. Abruptly, their bottom halves dissolved into darkness. Then the desolate land in front of the hills started to fade from view. Glancing upward, I saw the night sky grow darker.
Beverly took the lenses from Graham and lifted them to her eyes. “It’s another dust storm.”
“How big is it?” I asked.
“Huge.”
I drove around a steep hill. Then I turned the wheel again and pointed the vehicle directly at the swirling, rising sands.
Graham chewed his upper lip for a moment. “Maybe we should break off, make a run for it.”
“Won’t work,” Beverly said. “It’s too big, too fast.”
“Pull over then.” Graham glanced at me. “We’ll wait it out.”
I didn’t like the idea of exposing the reliquary to another dust storm. But if I had to do it, I wanted it to have additional shielding. And the plane’s fuselage would provide some protection from the wind and blowing dirt. “We’re not waiting it out.” I stomped on the gas pedal. “We’re going to drive straight through it.”
Chapter 18
“One hundred yards to go.” Using the binoculars, Beverly studied the terrain. “Angle us two degrees to the right.”
I twisted the wheel to match her instructions.
“The fuselage is in pretty good shape,” she said. “It looks like the pilot was able to make an emergency landing.”
I continued to drive. But it wasn’t easy. The headlights barely penetrated the darkness. To make matters worse, the terrain was bumpy and pockmarked with rocks, hills, and other obstacles.
A shadowy aircraft materialized out of the darkness. It was about fifty feet long and stood fifteen feet tall. It lay flat on the ground with its fuselage partially buried in dirt. One wing had snapped in half while the other one angled high into the air. Based on the surviving wing, I estimated its original wingspan at about forty to forty-five yards.
The air popped. The truck veered to the right. I twisted the wheel, struggling to keep the vehicle under control.
The vehicle shot back to the left. Looking ahead, I saw the plane just twenty feet in front of us.
I wrenched the wheel. The vehicle skidded along the soil, straightening out until we were parallel with the plane.
Dirt swirled around us. I jolted as the truck slammed into something. Metal crunched. Glass
“Like I said, it’s a dumb question. How could I even be sure your death would save all those lives?”
“It’s not meant to be a real question,” Graham said. “It’s a thought exercise. You know, like whether it’s okay to torture a person in order to locate a ticking time bomb.”
“That question is just as dumb,” she replied. “How can we be sure the torture will actually yield the correct location? What about blowback? And do you really think—?”
“You’re missing the point,” he said. “The idea is to force you to choose between your principles.”
“Look, I don’t want anything bad to happen to us,” I said. “But I got into this business to save artifacts, to save the past. If I wasn’t willing to risk my life to do that, I wouldn’t be very good at my job.”
The wind picked up speed. Particles of dirt slashed against the windshield. “How’s my direction?” I asked.
“Hang on.” Graham pressed his eyes into his binoculars. “Okay, I’ve got a visual on the wreckage. It’s about two hundred yards away. Keep straight and watch out for the hills.”
“How’s it look?” Beverly asked.
“Intact for the most part.” His fingers tightened around the lenses. “Also, strange. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
The truck jolted as it shot over a small hill. My teeth clashed as the tires smacked against the soil.
In the distance, I saw a series of large hills and small mountains. Abruptly, their bottom halves dissolved into darkness. Then the desolate land in front of the hills started to fade from view. Glancing upward, I saw the night sky grow darker.
Beverly took the lenses from Graham and lifted them to her eyes. “It’s another dust storm.”
“How big is it?” I asked.
“Huge.”
I drove around a steep hill. Then I turned the wheel again and pointed the vehicle directly at the swirling, rising sands.
Graham chewed his upper lip for a moment. “Maybe we should break off, make a run for it.”
“Won’t work,” Beverly said. “It’s too big, too fast.”
“Pull over then.” Graham glanced at me. “We’ll wait it out.”
I didn’t like the idea of exposing the reliquary to another dust storm. But if I had to do it, I wanted it to have additional shielding. And the plane’s fuselage would provide some protection from the wind and blowing dirt. “We’re not waiting it out.” I stomped on the gas pedal. “We’re going to drive straight through it.”
Chapter 18
“One hundred yards to go.” Using the binoculars, Beverly studied the terrain. “Angle us two degrees to the right.”
I twisted the wheel to match her instructions.
“The fuselage is in pretty good shape,” she said. “It looks like the pilot was able to make an emergency landing.”
I continued to drive. But it wasn’t easy. The headlights barely penetrated the darkness. To make matters worse, the terrain was bumpy and pockmarked with rocks, hills, and other obstacles.
A shadowy aircraft materialized out of the darkness. It was about fifty feet long and stood fifteen feet tall. It lay flat on the ground with its fuselage partially buried in dirt. One wing had snapped in half while the other one angled high into the air. Based on the surviving wing, I estimated its original wingspan at about forty to forty-five yards.
The air popped. The truck veered to the right. I twisted the wheel, struggling to keep the vehicle under control.
The vehicle shot back to the left. Looking ahead, I saw the plane just twenty feet in front of us.
I wrenched the wheel. The vehicle skidded along the soil, straightening out until we were parallel with the plane.
Dirt swirled around us. I jolted as the truck slammed into something. Metal crunched. Glass
Similar Books
