Armageddon - By James Patterson Page 0,43
me a fatherless child. Of course, the way things worked out, I turned into a total orphan instead.”
My mother smiled and shook her head. “That’s not why he refused the fight, Daniel.”
I put down my knife and fork. She reached across the table to touch my hand with hers.
“Going up against the devil is not a task to be taken lightly. You only get one chance. If you lose, the consequences are dire.”
“Wasn’t Dad ready? Was he afraid?”
“Your father has not been afraid of anything or anyone since the time he was two years old and his mother accidentally dropped him in the middle of an elephant stampede during mastodon mating season.”
“So why didn’t he take down Number 2 when he had the chance?”
“Because he knew a stronger warrior was coming along. One better suited to the task than he.”
“Who?”
“You, Daniel. You have more powers than your father and I combined. You are the one whose destiny has always been to deal with Number 2. I sometimes think creating you was the reason fate decreed that your father and I fall in love. Now we need to pray that you are ready for this fight.”
Then, right there at the kitchen table, my mom and I locked hands and bowed our heads to pray.
Hey, if you go up against evil alien baddies on a regular basis, prayer can be extremely useful. Sometimes you just need to call on a power greater than yourself—even if you, yourself, have all kinds of great powers.
But I never prayed like this before. And my mother? Her intensity was off the charts.
When we were finished I couldn’t help but ask, “Why did you pray so hard, Mom?”
“I’m trying to prepare you—and me—for the possibility of your death.”
“You think I’m gonna die when I go up against Abbadon?”
“Death is always with us, Daniel. None of us is immortal. Eventually, we must all depart this realm and move on to the next.”
Okay, even after biscuits and slabs of ham, that was probably the heaviest thing my mom could have served me for breakfast. And she wasn’t finished.
“Someone close to my heart is going to die soon, Daniel. I can feel it. The feeling is so strong there is an aura of certainty surrounding it.”
Something else you should probably know about my mom?
Her “feelings” are never, ever wrong.
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