The Scorpion’s Daughter


by Stephen Francis Montagna

The Scorpion’s Daughter was born from the pages and is the continuation of my novel The Sting of the Scorpion, but as is The Sting of the Scorpion, The Scorpion’s Daughter is a complete and finished novel in it’s own right. Both of these novels follow Eagle’s Nest.

The greatest monument to fallen soldiers are not constructed of polished marble and crowned by ornate, bright and shining placards. The true monuments to fallen soldiers are resting deep in the steamy jungles or silently washing on the sandy beaches far from our shores, and they are crowned by a lone rifle sticking in the ground with a tattered and rusting helmet on top as the brass placard honoring his or her unselfish sacrifice. Wherever a fallen soldier is buried marks the greatest monument to his or her dedication to duty and the protection of the fallen soldier’s loved ones country. A soldier does not fight because he hates who is standing before him he fights because he loves the ones and his country standing behind him.

God bless all our fallen soldiers, and the loved ones they have left behind to remember and give that soldier immortality by remembering their ultimate sacrifices for God, country and family. God rest his hand on the shoulder any man or woman who picks up a weapon and dresses in our country’s uniform and defends our great country and our freedom from all threats.

This novel was written to honor someone who is very special in my life. That someone special who stood behind me and read every novel I had written and he has encouraged me to continue on with my writing. Thank you my brother, Dominick Montagna.



A desert camouflaged United States Army Humvee slowly and extremely cautiously entered the small town of Ar-Ramadi in Iraq. There were four heavily armed American soldiers riding inside the lead armored humvee, and the soldiers seemed to be out hunting for bear. One of the soldiers had his body out of the upper turret type structure on top of the heavy jeep, and the soldier was manning the fifty caliber machine gun, he was on full alert against any possible insurgent attack on them or his fellow soldiers. Four more likewise armored humvees were stationed near the mouth of the main street of the village just outside of the town. They were also supported by a pair of deadly Bradley Fighting Machines and over twenty other heavily armed support soldiers.

Even though much of this area of Iraq was more or less secured and safe to move around in without much fear of an attack, and the Iraqi soldiers even took over the security of the area, the American soldiers were taking nothing for granted for this special operation they were on. Especially because the mission they were dispatched on by Army Command on this morning.

The slow moving humvee was traveling at ten miles an hour, and the concerned driver was looking for the building they were instructed to visit on this day. They identified the building as being constructed about dead center of the town near a large fountain when the local villagers drew their drinking water from. The small town was rather clean and many of the local stores were open for business. The street was about overflowing with Iraqi civilians going about their daily work. Arguments were raging between the Iraqi buyers and sellers of the wares in the streets.

Young children ran wildly across the street causing the humvee to slow down even more. Loud Iraqi music filled the street and it mingled in with the arguments raging in the town, and the crying children. Many of the young Iraqi males old enough to be in the army or the insurgency stopped what they were doing and they stared at the American military type machine as it entered their town. Some of the Iraqi’s displayed ugly sneers and hatred lacing their eyes, while many of the other young Iraqi men actually waved pleasantly at the American soldiers inside the machine.

The driver of the humvee kept his eyes glued out of the windshield; he was straining his eyes for he didn’t want to accidentally run over one of the small children running wildly in the street before his war machine. The other soldier in the front seat watched for the building they were looking for. After another hundred yards, the passenger suddenly called out to the driver.

“Sergeant, on the right side man, that’s the fricking house we’re looking for, the one with the blue door and all the damn people standing in front of it is the target building we’re looking for.”

“Great, that’s all we fucking need on this mission, a bunch of half crazed fucking Iraqi assholes blocking us from speaking to this damn female Iraqi. I don’t know why the hell we ever got stuck with notifying this lousy bitch about her stinking father’s death. He was nothing more than a god damn terrorist who was killing our fellow soldiers back in the United States. I though and still believe we should take her into custody and pump the living shit outta her until we find out all the information about her stinking father we need to know. This is one shit filled mission man.”

“I know Sergeant, but we have our damn orders and when they call, we hall ass man.”

“What the hell are you, a fucking commercial for the god damn Army now, Corporal. Notify our backup for this mission, inform them we found the dump and we’re stopping. Tell them they betta be ready to lend a hand double quick if we come under attack in this stinking little village. Look at those lousy little bastards, they’re acting like they want to kill and eat us man.”

The corporal informed his backup, and even before the sergeant pulled his humvee to a stop, two Apache fast attack helicopters showed up over the parked humvee and they took up a protective standoff position over the humvee and the four soldiers getting out of the machine.

The sergeant in command of this mission looked up and then breathed a sigh of relief as he grumbled at his fellow soldier. “Well, at least I see Command is taking this mission seriously.”

The two soldiers from the rear of the humvee took up flanking positions while remaining with their heavy war machine, and they kept the sergeant and corporal under close cover. Ready to react instantly in case their brother soldiers came under attack from the gathered and obviously angry mob of Iraqi civilians gathered in front of the home the soldiers were visiting.

Ever though the Iraqis were acting extremely hostile towards the American soldiers, they were wise enough to open a path through their ranks so the armed soldiers could approach the home.

Sergeant Thomas Doocy cautiously walked right through the ranks of the Iraqi civilians as if he didn’t even see them standing on either side of him. He proudly walked up to the front door of the home and then he raised his hand, but the door opened slowly before he could even knock on the door. The sergeant took a small step backwards and then stared at the door until it was completely opened, and an elderly Iraqi woman was now standing and blocking the entire doorway on him.

The sergeant shook his head slowly, angered over the way the old woman was blocking his way then he got control of his emotions and he nearly barked at the old woman. “Ma’am, I am looking for Ayesha al-Qaysi please. I have some items I must hand over to her personally, Ma’am.”

As the sergeant spoke the words, an Iraqi man standing behind the old woman immediately translated the American’s words to Iraqi for her. Without responding to the American soldier, she stepped aside the door and a stunningly beautiful and young Iraqi woman came out from the darkness of the house and she stopped right before the soldier who didn’t dare enter the home.

“Yes, I am Ayesha al-Qaysi, soldier. Why have you come to upset me at such a terrible time in my life, American soldier? Have you god cursed American soldier not done enough harm and damage to my great country since invading Iraq, now you have to bother me at this time, mista?”

Ayesha’s words angered the American soldier, he was absolutely furious at her for thinking he was causing any harm to her country. He wondered why this woman didn’t understand he was placing his life on the line to free her of the terrible leadership of their dead Iraqi president, Saddam Hussein. Fighting his inner rage, the soldier removed the anger from his eyes as he stretched his hand out and offered the beauty a neatly wrapped package and offered in a polite tone of voice. “Ma’am, these are the personal effects of your father, Colonel Hamoodi al-Qaysi. They were shipped out to my Command, and I was ordered to deliver them to you safely. I am truly sorry for your father’s death, but he was doing the devil’s work in my country.”

Sergeant Doocy couldn’t stop his words until he delivered the insult his heart demanded of him. More anger immediately seeped into the lovely but cold black eyes of the beautiful young Iraqi woman as she hated this American soldier even more now that he had just branded her father as doing the devil’s work in the United States. A number of the gathered young male Iraqi civilians standing in the street and on Ayesha’s property all grumbled over the American soldier’s insulting last remark, but they were smart enough to hold their ranks due to the other American soldiers and also the pair of deadly fast attack helicopter’s hovering so near where they were bunched up.

Now it was Ayeshai’s turn to control her emotions the best possibly she could as she cautiously reached out and took the small package from the soldier’s hands. She looked down at the package for several long seconds, and then she merely turned her back on the American sergeant and she walked back inside the home. Instantly, a number of male Iraqi’s moved in front of the sergeant and blocked him from seeing into the home until the door closed. Not knowing what to do next to display his respect for the Iraqi woman, the sergeant turned to his corporal and barked at him.

“Okay mister we done our god damn duty here, what say we get the hell out of here before one of these lousy assholes decided to play a fucking hero and starts World War Three on us man.”

The two soldiers headed back for their waiting humvee and climbed into it as they quickly left the small Iraqi village, this time driving at a speed they much better preferred. In no time they linked back up with the rest of their company and immediately headed back for their headquarters.


This novel was written to honor someone who is very special in my life. That someone special who stood behind me and read every novel I had written and he has encouraged me to continue on with my writing. Thank you my brother, Dominick Montagna.

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