CHAPTER ONEThe boy tried to hurry the goats, but the goats are stubborn and stubborn. You call them, you applaud, you push them with your stick. If goats can't see what's inside to move a little faster, well, why should they care? In this they were just like people. He was anxious to see her again, that was the root of his impatience. That evening she would pass through the village with her uncle. She imagined his warm brown eyes and his beautiful teeth, straight and white. He showed them off in a smile that always disappeared too quickly. It spoke of an inner sadness and made his heart leap towards her. The boy looked out at the sea of ​​red sand and the white-crowned mountains beyond, faded in the distance. He and the goats were skirting the edge of that vast void. Death awaited the ignorant and careless out there. Down the slope a lone goat had wandered away from the herd. He was thin and the quality of his fur was shaggy and sparse. This season the rains had been even lighter than usual and the herd needed to move further to find good pastures, which was why they were late that day. The boy climbed up the rocks after the goat. Again delay. The light did not come as light, it came as blindness. Too much for the eye to see. He deleted everything. At the same time, the heat set his simple cotton clothes on fire in a flash. A scream formed inside him, but before he could escape, the entire universe silenced him. It howled with a mighty roar that instantly deafened him. The shockwave raced towards him across the desert like a huge invisible beast, kicking up a cloud of dust behind it. He fell into darkness and silence, pushed backwards as the concussion hit him. The rifle sand tore away his charred flesh... into the middle of the paper... the world knew. No one would steal their credit. They had thought of that part elegantly too. Keane took a file titled "Sons of Man" on his phone and opened it. He read aloud as they continued up the hill. "'We are the Children of Man. Today a voice cries in the wilderness.' Keane smiled. "There are few references to John the Baptist and the Gospel of Mark. Bomb in the desert, voice in the wilderness. Nice." He continued reading. "'Acts of Islamic terrorism will henceforth be punished by nuclear decimation.' Well, okay then. That's pretty clear." "Decimation. Eliminate them all?" Pasquini asked. Keane shook his head. "Not exactly, although that's the common usage of the word now. Decimation stipulated that if a Roman centurion betrayed Caesar, they would execute one man in ten of his legion. Latin tenth, one tenth. However the idea is that it makes them policemen