Chapter 59
“GOOD MORNING, DANIEL,” Agent Judge greeted me as I entered the barnyard. “Sleep okay?”
“Yeah,” I lied, deciding not to go into the bit about fighting my dad nearly to the death.
“You hungry? The cook set up a mess tent in the paddock.”
“No thanks. I’m good.”
“Okay, then.” Agent Judge looked impatient. “We need to move out. Now. It’s time to take the fight to Abbadon.”
“Yes, sir. I was thinking we should double back to that abandoned coal mine in West Virginia. The bat cave might be some kind of an entrance into the underworld where he’s holding Mel hostage.”
I had decided not to tell Agent Judge what my father had told me—that this underworld might be the underworld, as in “the fiery pits of hell.”
“I’ve put together a special strike force,” Agent Judge continued. “Navy SEALs, Delta Force, Night Stalkers, Special Forces, Rangers. They’re the best of the best, Daniel. The bravest of the brave.”
“Did somebody call my name?” said Willy as he strode confidently into the barnyard. Joe, Emma, and Dana came striding right behind him. “Hey, you said you wanted the best of the best and the bravest of the brave. Guess it’s a good thing we were in the neighborhood, bro.”
I had to grin. If I was about to head down to the gates of hell, I figured it’d be great to have my gang covering my back.
“Thanks for being here, guys. This could be our most important alien hunt ever. It could also be the most dangerous.”
“Awesome,” said Joe, sniffing the air. “So, is that bacon or sausage?”
“Both. Plus ham. Go grab some. But hurry. We need to move out.”
“Grab some fruit, too, Joe,” suggested Emma.
“Yeah, right. Like that’s gonna happen.”
“Meet us in the paddock with the strike force,” I said.
“Will do.”
Joe bounded into the house while the rest of us hustled over to meet the team Agent Judge had assembled.
About 150 warriors were milling about in the fenced-in corral, packing up their equipment and rations. These battle-hardened veterans were decked out in black tactical gear, gloves, boots, and helmets. Confiscated alien weapons and ammo belts were slung over their shoulders. Their game-day faces were hidden behind ski masks, goggles, and blackout paint.
Still, even with this outstanding strike force, I could not imagine how we could defeat an enemy as powerful as the devil.
And, as you already know, if I can’t imagine it, I can’t do it.