Armageddon by James Patterson, Chris Grabenstein Page A
Authors: James Patterson, Chris Grabenstein
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2?
He is one who calls himself Abbadon. The Destroyer. He is known in some sacred texts to be the king of tormenting locusts and the angel of the bottomless pit.
Okay, I’ve seen the locusts. But trust me, this Abbadon is no angel.
You speak true. You see, Daniel, you, your father, your mother, and even your friends outside, you came to this planet to protect it. Abbadon, on the other hand, came here to destroy it.
Wait a second—did my dad and Abbadon come to this planet at the same time? Is this some sort of yin-yang cosmic balancing act? Is the universe somehow trying to keep things even-steven by tossing in one creator and one destroyer?
Xanthos shook his head.
No, my yute. Abbadon has been around for a long, long year—stirring up trouble, fomenting chaos, turning humans against one another.
I remembered the people mauling one another in New York City. The street gang in Moscow. The Chinese stampeding to board the subway trains. All those humans were seriously lacking in kindness, compassion, and goodwill. In other words, Abbadon had successfully stripped them of anything resembling humanity.
I stood up, dusted straw off my jeans.
Okay—what do we do next? How do we destroy The Destroyer?
Xanthos closed his eyes. This time when he sighed, I felt his sadness.
Why do you wish to do as the evil one hasdone? Don’t bury your thoughts under his vision. Flee from hate, mischief, and—
Wait a second. So far, this Abbadon has totally wiped out New York, Washington, London, Moscow, Beijing, and just about everywhere in between! And you want me to flee?
No, Daniel. I want you to be true to who you are: Create where others destroy. Build up what they tear down.
Fine. I’ll work on that, right after I tear down this Abbadon.
Very well. It is your river to cross, brudda.
Suddenly I had a thought.
Is this why The List is so sketchy on Number 2? Did Abbadon destroy all the intel we’d gathered on him during his centuries of troublemaking here on Earth?
Perhaps.
Thanks. That’s really, really helpful.
I was being sarcastic.
Some advisor you turned out to be.
For your spirit, Daniel. Your soul. We each have our role and must play it as written.
I took a deep breath. Counted to ten, then to twenty. I knew I was letting my anger get the best of me, and when I’m about to lose my temper I can’t create anything, not even those cheap, flavorless globules that cost a quarter in gumball machines.
Truth is, I was mad at the situation, not at Xanthos.
Okay. As my spiritual advisor, what would you suggest I do next?
Xanthos rose up on his sturdy legs. When he whinnied merrily, I knew we were still “bredren”—brothers in unity.
Perhaps dinner with your friends, yah, mon?
What? Number 2 or Abbadon or whatever he calls himself is still out there, still knocking down skyscrapers, and you want me to sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight?
Abbadon has gone underground.
You’re sure?
Do not worry, Daniel. You will face him again. When the time comes.
And when’s that?
Ah, this I do not know. However, the next time you will have no need to hunt Abbadon down. When all is in readiness, he will come for you!
Chapter 41
I DID AS Xanthos advised: I sat down to dinner that night with Mel, Agent Judge, Joe, Emma, Willy, and Dana.
And by “Willy and Dana” I mean
Willy-n-Dana
, like you’d see carved into the bark of a tree or graffitied on a small-town water tower.
They were sitting side by side, their chairs pushed a little closer together than all the others around the knotty-pine farmhouse table. From the grin on Dana’s face and the giddy bewilderment on Willy’s, I think they might have been playing footsie under the table, too.
As if that weren’t bad enough, I once again noticed the slender white line running from Dana’s eye to her chin. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make that scar disappear!
Mel reached over to touch my hand. I guess she’d been watching me watching them.
“Is
He is one who calls himself Abbadon. The Destroyer. He is known in some sacred texts to be the king of tormenting locusts and the angel of the bottomless pit.
Okay, I’ve seen the locusts. But trust me, this Abbadon is no angel.
You speak true. You see, Daniel, you, your father, your mother, and even your friends outside, you came to this planet to protect it. Abbadon, on the other hand, came here to destroy it.
Wait a second—did my dad and Abbadon come to this planet at the same time? Is this some sort of yin-yang cosmic balancing act? Is the universe somehow trying to keep things even-steven by tossing in one creator and one destroyer?
Xanthos shook his head.
No, my yute. Abbadon has been around for a long, long year—stirring up trouble, fomenting chaos, turning humans against one another.
I remembered the people mauling one another in New York City. The street gang in Moscow. The Chinese stampeding to board the subway trains. All those humans were seriously lacking in kindness, compassion, and goodwill. In other words, Abbadon had successfully stripped them of anything resembling humanity.
I stood up, dusted straw off my jeans.
Okay—what do we do next? How do we destroy The Destroyer?
Xanthos closed his eyes. This time when he sighed, I felt his sadness.
Why do you wish to do as the evil one hasdone? Don’t bury your thoughts under his vision. Flee from hate, mischief, and—
Wait a second. So far, this Abbadon has totally wiped out New York, Washington, London, Moscow, Beijing, and just about everywhere in between! And you want me to flee?
No, Daniel. I want you to be true to who you are: Create where others destroy. Build up what they tear down.
Fine. I’ll work on that, right after I tear down this Abbadon.
Very well. It is your river to cross, brudda.
Suddenly I had a thought.
Is this why The List is so sketchy on Number 2? Did Abbadon destroy all the intel we’d gathered on him during his centuries of troublemaking here on Earth?
Perhaps.
Thanks. That’s really, really helpful.
I was being sarcastic.
Some advisor you turned out to be.
For your spirit, Daniel. Your soul. We each have our role and must play it as written.
I took a deep breath. Counted to ten, then to twenty. I knew I was letting my anger get the best of me, and when I’m about to lose my temper I can’t create anything, not even those cheap, flavorless globules that cost a quarter in gumball machines.
Truth is, I was mad at the situation, not at Xanthos.
Okay. As my spiritual advisor, what would you suggest I do next?
Xanthos rose up on his sturdy legs. When he whinnied merrily, I knew we were still “bredren”—brothers in unity.
Perhaps dinner with your friends, yah, mon?
What? Number 2 or Abbadon or whatever he calls himself is still out there, still knocking down skyscrapers, and you want me to sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight?
Abbadon has gone underground.
You’re sure?
Do not worry, Daniel. You will face him again. When the time comes.
And when’s that?
Ah, this I do not know. However, the next time you will have no need to hunt Abbadon down. When all is in readiness, he will come for you!
Chapter 41
I DID AS Xanthos advised: I sat down to dinner that night with Mel, Agent Judge, Joe, Emma, Willy, and Dana.
And by “Willy and Dana” I mean
Willy-n-Dana
, like you’d see carved into the bark of a tree or graffitied on a small-town water tower.
They were sitting side by side, their chairs pushed a little closer together than all the others around the knotty-pine farmhouse table. From the grin on Dana’s face and the giddy bewilderment on Willy’s, I think they might have been playing footsie under the table, too.
As if that weren’t bad enough, I once again noticed the slender white line running from Dana’s eye to her chin. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make that scar disappear!
Mel reached over to touch my hand. I guess she’d been watching me watching them.
“Is
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