“The thing burned awful fast for being so wet,” Sadie said.
“Yeah, it did,” Port answered. “I’m glad at least one element was on our side.”
A barefoot, middle-aged man of medium build stood beside them as if he had been there the whole time. “With every blessing comes a curse,” he said. “And vice versa.”
Port cocked an eyebrow and shrugged, “Horse chips.”
One Thousand One Nights Unseen
“The desert, sometimes it gives and sometimes it takes,” said the Sergeant-Major.
“Yeah, it will take all right,” spit Corporal Wilson. “But I haven’t seen it give anything.”
“Plenty of sunshine, plenty of hot days and freezing nights. Hell, it gives more variety than anyone could possible want. It gives us an enemy, a purpose.”
“It sucks,” said Wilson, slinging his rifle. “Nothing to do but sit here, without beer, without girls, without fighting, without porn. This damn place sucks the life out of you.”
“You need to appreciate what we have here, Wilson. Nobody else ever gets to come to Saudi Arabia, nobody. Time comes and Saddam, the Republican Guard with their Gerald Bull 155mm’s; oh we’ll fight, we’ll get to experience it all soon enough.”
“You can fucking keep it. Damn rag-heads. Look, there’s a couple more.” He raised his rifle in an aggressive, though poor firing stance.
A pair of Bedouins crested the flowing dunes and came with arms wide open. They held empty canteens and pointed at the water truck.
“Put your gun down, Wilson, they’re friendlies. Republican Guard has to be miles from here anyway.” Greeting them with the customary bow and heel of hand to forehead, the Sergeant-Major said, “Salaam aleikum.”
“Aleikum salaam,” they returned.
“Salaam, salaam...you bastards,” muttered Wilson, repeating the benediction with a scowl.
“Sergeant Major! Report!” called the XO, from the flapping tent entrance. “You too, Wilson.”
Wheeling, they each strode to the command tent and saluted facing the XO.
“At ease. Come inside and take a look at the situation map.” He pointed at some indistinct areas with a handful of roads trailing across the open desert. “Seems a whole platoon of Captain Davis’s has gone AWOL. We are all to be on the lookout and be extra vigilant in finding them.”
“How long have they been missing?”
“They should have reported in by O-five hundred yesterday. More than a good twenty four hours ago. We are to keep it on a need to know basis, we don’t want anyone panicking and we especially don’t want any trouble with our Saudi hosts. But everyone in this quadrant is supposed to search in shifts. I am sending your team out to the Tango Delta quadrant.”
“Any intel on what may have happened, Captain, sir?”
“I’d sooner believe they found a good spot for some R&R and are hoping they can beg forgiveness later instead of asking permission. But the fact is they are AWOL and no eyes in the sky can find them just yet, so it’s a ground pounder patrol. You will leave immediately.”
“Yes sir!”
***
The Sergeant-Major took Wilson and three more members of his fire team in a Humvee and drove out to the north west, Tango Delta quadrant. Smack in the middle of nowhere.
Borders were arbitrary out here at best, but as far as U.S. coalition forces were concerned, it was all an uninhabited no man’s land. No one in Operation Desert Shield had even seen the lay of the land except from the air and even then it was just cursory and very quickly, and all simply to be sure Saddam wasn’t about to cross the border. But the Sergeant-Major’s orders were taking the fire-team farther into Saudi Arabia and away from the border, it didn’t make sense that anything could have happened operationally. He kept reminding himself that the simplest answer was the right one, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of something darker lurking out in the wilderness.
“Do you think we’ll find them?” asked Wilson.
The Sergeant-Major shrugged. “It’s the desert. Kind of a we will or we won’t. There’s things out there that have been swallowed up for centuries or they could just be broken down in plain sight.”
Thompson pointed, “What about the radio?”
“Who knows. Stranger things have happened. Good chance they don’t want to answer.”
“Any chance they found some girls?” grinned Thompson, hopeful as anything.
Wilson snorted, “That’ll be the day. The Saudi’s would sooner let you fuck a sheep.”
The Sergeant-Major chuckled, “That’s the truth. No way any Bedouin would let any leather-neck sleep with his daughter, not for any price.”
“So what does the map say about where we’re going anything?”
“It’s Arabic name is Baten al Ghul, the Belly of the Beast.”
“That’s encouraging.”
“Hell yeah it is. I overheard a Bedouin tell the XO that it’s haunted.”
“Wonderful. What the hell did I sign up for?”
“It sure as hell wasn’t to fight for some damn Kuwaiti’s oil!”
“Just hold on and for the moment let’s take in where we are and focus on finding Captain Davis’s lost platoon. The XO’s report said it was three Humvee's, a water truck and a cargo flatbed. Odds are on our side that somebody will spot them from the air before we do.”
“Yeah, no way they all broke down.”
“What the hell, why are we even looking then?”
“You wanted something to do, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“This is still a bullshit detail.”
They drove for several hours covering miles upon miles but finding no sign other than an occasional abandoned car or wandering shepherd.
“What’s with the abandoned cars?”
“It’s against the law here to drive a car without air-conditioning. So if the A/C goes out, they leave the whole thing and buy another. I’ll bet most of the cars beside the road are just fine by white trash standards, but not with the Saudi’s. Besides they make enough on their Dole, that they can afford to just buy an new one, so why not upgrade constantly?”
“Yeah, especially when we are here to cover their butts!”
“It’s what we are trained to do.”
***
By the time twilight crept over the desert they were yet miles from base. Red-rimmed light crouched behind stark, rocky points designating the borders of the valley. A sliver of a moon hung beside cold stars in the dark night. And where they may have expected night sounds, there naught but unnerving silence.
“I just got off the horn with the XO, he said we can hold up here and continue the search tomorrow in daylight on our way back.”
“So he’s worried about us?”
“No he isn’t. We at least answer the radio.”
The men grumbled or laughed, bivouacking out here by themselves was little different than the living conditions back at the base camp.
“We have everything we need, set up the tents, break out your bags, it’s gonna be a cold one.”
The stark contrast of the desert was something the men were still not used too. Broiling heat by day and freezing temperatures at night created a duality of nature that was ironic for the war-zone.
“We’ll keep up a watch in two hour shifts, we’ll all get enough sleep.”
“Hey Sarge, can we light a fire?”
The Sergeant-Major just looked at the tow-headed Thompson.
“I mean Sergeant-Major, sir.”
“No good reason to, but out here, no good reason not to either. But I don’t think we have anything to burn either, no trees, no scrub brush, nothing.”
“I got a broken crate in the back of the Hummer and I think I see something right over there in that gulch. Driftwood or something.”
“Go ahead,” said the Sergeant-Major absently gesturing to the defile.
Thompson trotted out to the gulch and reached down picking up what looked like a desiccated branch. He g
asped and dropped it back into the welcoming sands.
“What is it? Snake?”
“No sir. Come here.”
The Sergeant-Major along with the rest walked over to where Thompson pointed.
Several skeletons were clustered into a haphazard pile and dusted with the ever-present sands. Rib cages stood out and had been the assumed driftwood. Hollow eye-sockets leered back at them.
“Nothing we won’t see more of soon enough.”
“Who were they?”
“Could have been anyone, I don’t see a shred of clothing do you?”
“No.”
Wilson blurted, “I don’t want to camp here.”
“I ain’t driving all the way back to base tonight. Sides you wanted an adventure Wilson.”
“Yeah, but what did this?”
“Who cares. Could have been anything, gas, cluster bomb, probably just the desert itself. Everyone get some sleep. Since you’re so worried Wilson, you get first watch.”
“Yes Sergeant-Major. I’m still lighting that fire.”
“Go ahead.”
***
Wilson fed the last shard of the broken crate to the dying flame. The men’s snoring kept him as alert as anything. Already the moon was slipping below the hills and he knew his eyes played tricks on him.
Furtive shadows seemed to slither about the crags and gloom and he couldn't help but wonder if he should wake the others.
Then as the waning moon was fully enveloped by the sucking sands, he was sure something living moved out there. Taking the night-vision binoculars he scanned the ridge line. Figures shambled across the horizon, dozens of them.
“Sergeant-Major! Wake up! Trouble.” Wilson whispered urgently.
The men awoke and prepared their weapons sure that Wilson meant the Republican Guard.
“What is it? What’d you see?”
“Whole lot of people up on the ridge-line. Could be a whole platoon for all I know. Look through the night-vision.”
It was more than a quarter mile away but numerous bodies did move about, seeming to dance beneath the stars.
“I don’t see any weapons. They almost look naked.”
“In this temperature? It’s fucking cold!”
“It don’t make any sense but yeah. No weapons, I could swear I just see bare skin too. They look like they are having a rave or something.”
“I don’t hear nothing.”
“Neither do I. I can’t see a thing without the night-vision, how the hell do they see anything either?”
They passed the night-vision back and forth each trying to make sense of the bizarre scene.
“Could it be some kind of rag-head ritual?”
“I don’t think so. This goes against anything I have ever read about. It would be taboo.”
“I got it figured out,” said Wilson. “These dumb bastards get high on the hashish, start raving to the music in their own damn heads, then die in that gully there like we found ‘em in. Those bones didn’t have any clothes either.”
“They all look skinny as fuck.”
“Of course they do. They’re a bunch of junkies.”
“I hate to say it, but that seems as right as anything,” said the Sergeant-Major, before taking a long pull on his canteen. “They don’t seem to be causing any harm though, so I’ll take watch and the rest of you get some sleep.”
The men lay down, but none rested easy, electric-green visions of writhing skinny bodies in darkness permeated their dreams and once, just once, in the night they thought they heard a solitary scream far off in the haunted distance.
***
As the sun crept over the dunes, a white jeep approached swiftly, a tail of dust like a comet trailing behind. The driver only eased on the brakes as it was nearly upon them. A star and crescent upon the doors seemed to mark this as a vehicle of the local Saudi constabulary though it was definitively different than the usual Saudi Arabian logo and the Sergeant-Major noted it.
A tall mustachioed man in his forties got out. “Salaam aleikum.”
“Aleikum, salaam,” responded the Sergeant-Major.
“Americans, yes? I will be brief, I am Mustafa ibn Sulaiman , I am with the how you say, Special Criminal Police, not the Sharia Police, yes?”
“I think we got it.”
“I have been ordered to assist you in finding your lost platoon, that is believed to have gone missing somewhere here in Baten al Ghul, yes?”
“Appreciated, but we were about to head back to our base camp, nothing more we can do here,” said the Sergeant-Major, poking a thumb back to the northwest.
“Ah, then you do not wish to look upon those missing vehicles?”
“You found them?”
“Yes, I did, though I strongly suspect the ghoul have taken your men.”
“Say what? Who’s that now?”
“Maybe he means those weirdo’s we saw last night,” offered Wilson.
“Did you see something last night? Very dangerous.” said Mustafa.
“What’s the big deal? They a bunch of hashish nut-jobs or what?” asked Thompson.
The Sergeant-Major pressed, “Are our boys in some kind of trouble with the local authorities? What’d they do?”
Mustafa held up his palms, “Please tell me what you saw last night.”
“Bunch of naked assholes dancing up on the ridge-line.”
“Wilson!” growled the Sergeant-Major, “speak respectfully to our host or you ain’t ever getting out of KP.”
“I know of what you speak,” said Mustafa. “You are among the few that have seen the ghoul dance and lived to speak of it. It has been one thousand one nights they have gone unseen.”
“Ghoul? Who?”
“They are the demons of the desert, they feast upon the dead. When I saw your trucks high upon a dune to the southwest I suspected ghoul had done it.”
“What? Why are you telling us this?”
“I was directed by my commanders to solve the mystery, find you American’s and I have. I will show you the vehicles so that you may confirm their identity with your superiors.”
“Appreciated Mustafa, but why don’t you think the men are there?”
“It has been nearly three days that those men have been missing in this valley. No one survives more than one night in Baten al Ghul.”
“You’re saying those dancers were some kind of demon?”
“Oh yes. They are ghoul, they are not like other men. Last night they may have celebrated some dark holiday, perhaps the stars were right for them. You were blessed by Allah to have been left alone.”
“I don’t think they knew we were there.”
Mustafa chuckled for the first time showing any trace of humor. “They assuredly did, but they were not allowed to molest you, so long as you did not offend them. They will not be so kind a second night. Not in this valley.”
“Just show us the damn trucks, please.”
***
High upon the dune and half covered in sand, the vehicles were scratched and torn in chaotic abandon. The tires that could be seen were flat with chunks ripped out. The wind shields were shattered and tatters of canvas flapped in the breeze.
“Is anybody in there?” called the Sergeant-Major to the others that moved higher up the shifting embankment.
“There will be no one,” said Mustafa.
“How can you be sure?”
“I am sure. But you shall at least have some closure for your superiors, not that they will believe all you may relate to them.”
The Sergeant-Major looked at Mustafa. “You think they got stuck, and ran out of water?”
Thompson, Wilson and the others slogged up the dune, with their weapons ready.
Mustafa shook his head as he and the Sergeant-Major trudged behind. “Your comrades will not be present.”
“Have you been up there already? Have you searched the trucks?”
“No, I have not but I recognize the signs and portents easily enough, especially in
this valley.”
“No one is in the vehicles, Sarge!” called Thompson.
“No one?”
“Nope, nobody.”
“So they must have gotten stuck and decided to hot foot it back to camp.”
“No,”insisted Mustafa, “they are surely dead somewhere here in Baten al Ghul. But their bodies will not be with the trucks. Look all the signs are here.” He pointed at a horrible four clawed gouge across the foremost Humvee. “The Ghoul have taken them.”
No trace of bodies remained in the sun-bleached trucks. But all of the gear, ruck-sacks, canteens, weapons and the like remained.
“Look Sergeant, shells everywhere. Like they were shooting in all directions?”
“Water truck is empty, like someone opened it up and let it drain all the way here.”
“Big firefight.”
“Of course they were,” said Mustafa. “The ghoul would have come at them from every direction.”
“But why? Why attack such a hard target?”
“Because they are Ghoul, it is what they do.”
“Can’t they be killed?”
“Probably. I have only heard a handful of tales of men fighting back and succeeding, but that would always be against a lone ghoul, never an onslaught like this, especially after dark.”
The Sergeant-Major continued poking at the wreckage.
Mustafa continued, “They must have had good reason for attacking the column.”
“What’s that you say? Who’s side are you on?”
“Allahu akbar, assuredly we are on the same side. Ghoul would attack me just as quickly as you if I offended them, as I suspect these men did.”
“Say what?”
“They must have found something on their maneuvers. A crypt, or another holy place of the ghoul. It likely held treasure of some kind, something of the dim ages. Many men have trod these roads with gold and silk, these things do not stay lost in the desert. The Ghoul know of these treasures and keep them for their own. But if driving along a dune such as this and these soldiers found such a tomb and looted it, then the Ghoul would come for them and exact revenge.”
At the Highways of Madness Page 11