31
Mar
PAGE FIVE
From high, looking down on a great expanse of nothingness, a small figure is making its way across the desert floor. He leaves only elongated footprints, like drag marks. He is clearly injured.
He heads for nearby shelter. It is a series of low lying rocks in an outcropping. In one corner is a small entrance to a cave.
CAPTION: 20 YEARS AGO
CAPTION: GREAT VICTORIA DESERT-WESTERN AUSTRALIA
PAGE SIX
As the injured boy enters the cave, he realizes that the cave has an occupant already. A small fire burns near the center of a clearing. Illuminated all around, like a cathedral, many drawings and written passages line the walls like a prehistoric Sistine Chapel. But there is no Michelangelo commissioned to work this masterpiece. Instead, a small man wearing little and covered in Tattoos works diligently on a part of the wall.
MAN: THIS IS A PRIVATE PLACE, YOUNG MAN, I THINK YOU ARE LOST?
The boy, barely able to stand, stutters.
BOY: I AM HIDING, KIND SIR. I DIDN’T KNOW SOMEONE LIVED HERE.
Then he collapses. He is wounded and bleeding from his side. The man drops his paint and brush and hurries to the boy.
PAGE SEVEN
Near the cave entrance there is a commotion. Several Australian Soldiers have arrived on horseback and are investigating the entrance. The captain of the Desert Patrol calls out.
CAPTAIN: I KNOW YOU ARE IN THERE, BOY. CONSIDER THIS YOUR TOMB!
The soldiers prepare a small package of TNT to explode and seal the cave. The old man waves a finger and at once all the soldiers are gone. In their place is a series of large stones. Nothing more. No trace of the Desert Patrol exists. With tears in his eyes, the man turns his attention to the injured boy.
PAGE EIGHT
An odd glow envelopes the whole cave as the tattooed man places a hand on the boy’s chest. The man closes his eyes and at once the boy is healed. He opens his eyes and with a speed and energy he didn’t know he had, jumps to his feet. He appraises his body. Except for a large hand print on his chest, he is without flaw.
The tattooed man is silently sobbing.
BOY: DON’T CRY OLD MAN. YOU HAVE GIVEN ME A GREAT GIFT. I FEEL, I FEEL, STRONG. SO, STRONG.
MAN: I DO NOT WEEP FOR YOU. BE ON YOUR WAY AND NEVER FORGET THIS DAY.
BOY: YOU CAN BE ASSURED I WON’T KIND SIR. I SHALL USE THIS GIFT TO ITS FULLEST.
With that, he flees the cave.
-MRC
30
Mar
On the flight to New Mexico, Eric reads about the woman known as Adam’s First Wife; Lilith. He first checks the web.
Lilith (Hebrew: לילית Līlīt; Kurdish: شەوە; Arabic: ليليث Līlīṯ) appears as a night demon in Jewish folklore and as a screech owl in Isaiah 34:14 in the King James version of the Bible. In later folklore, “Lilith” is the name for Adam’s first wife. Her story was greatly developed, during the middle-ages, in the tradition of Aggadic midrashim, the Zohar and Jewish mysticism.
She is believed to have originated as a female Mesopotamian storm demon associated with wind and was thought to be a bearer of disease, illness, and death. The figure of Lilith first appeared in a class of wind and storm demons or spirits as Lilitu, in Sumer, circa 4000 BC. The phonetic name “Lilith” is traditionally thought to have originated in Ancient Israel somewhere around 700 BC, despite post-dating even to the time of Moses.
Eric knows the real story of Lilith that the Wikipedia entry does not and can not explain. No one would believe it. Although, the Jews are pretty close. They usually are. Eric makes a mental reminder.
“Investigate ancient Jewish mythological sources and their origins.”
-MRC
29
Mar
I decided to start nosing around the bar scene on the waterfront. My hope was that someone would talk. I doubted anyone would, but you never know when it comes to drunks. Buy em a drink and see what comes out.
First stop on my list was Betty Sue’s. That’s the name of the place, not a person. It may have been at one time but now it is just a name. Most folks just call it BS. There is humor in that I suppose. One must be careful to avoid fisticuffs here. So I should be on guard.
“Hey Jack!” I acknowledged the bar keep.
“Roger.” He nodded back.
“Business doing well these days?” I had to break the ice.
“It would be better if folks spent more time drinkin and less time talkin.” He suggested.
“I getcha. I’ll take a double.” I had to play along.
He served me my drink. I learned a long time ago not to complain about the cleanliness of the glassware, or the watered down whisky. I wasn’t here to drink anyway.
“Thanks.” I paid double what I owed. Fishing.
“What’s this for?” His suspicions aroused now.
“Just a tip for your pleasant service and cordial demeanor.”
“Bull! Whaddaya want?”
“Nuthin. Really. Just curious about these missing men. You heard about them I’m sure.”
“Huh. Probably just some blokes wantin’ to get lost. Probably owed sumbody money or sumthin’.”
“Sure. That would make sense. Normally. . .”
“What do you mean by that?” I hooked him.
“Oh, c’mon. You been around. You see things. Hear stuff.” I flipped another coin at him.
“Yeah, ok. Maybe I have. Maybe I haven’t. But I don’t go messin with other people’s business. Ya’know?” He was nearly whispering to me now. He didn’t want to be seen taking money from me. Interesting.
-MRC
26
Mar
After fumbling with keys and lights, Ransom managed to get Lynn into her Hotel room. She made a B-Line for the bathroom where she heaved a good portion of what ailed her. Embarrassed and still drunk enough to have trouble walking or even standing, Lynn managed to take a glass of water from Ransom.
“Thanks. I’m Sorry.”
“It’s all right.” Ransom lied.
“No. No, it’s not all right. I have been a sloppy nincompoop and not very much value to you.”
“Just get some rest and we can talk about it over a hearty breakfast.”
He noticed a pair of in-line skates by the front door.
“Did you actually pack these or are they rented?”
“I packed them.”
“Wow. You are dedicated.” He was actually a little impressed but also confused.
“No. Not dedicated, more like deranged.”
“What does that mean?”
“I have nightmares. Sometimes they are bad enough I have to skate.” She looked at the empty glass of water.
“Why not just run? It would save baggage space.”
“It doesn’t work for me. I HAVE to skate. It’s an old habit.” Tears streaked her cheeks.
Lynn poured her soul out.
“I was in the 6th Grade. A boy, Paul, asked me to go with him to the skating rink. I was overjoyed at the prospect. I was also young and naive. He was an 8th grader whom I had a HUGE crush on. I prepared myself all week and didn’t tell my parents that it was a date. They would have forbidden it. Not only because I was so young but because he wasn’t Korean. Of course that wasn’t going to stop me.”
Ransom sat on the floor.
“My Dad dropped me off and left. My sister was there too, so it wasn’t like I was unsupervised or anything. Paul was there. I thought he was waiting for me. Instead he took one look at me, all dressed to the nines, and he laughed. His friends laughed with him.”
Lynn paused to clear her throat and suppress a sob.
“They LAUGHED at me. Assholes! So I put on a pair of skates and just skated and skated and skated. The DJ changed the floor to “Couples Only” but that didn’t stop me from continuing to skate as though it was still “All Skate.” One look at my face and no one tried to stop me. My sister tried once, but one look from me was enough. She stopped trying and called my Dad to come and get me. I wouldn’t stop. Imagine that. A tiny, Korean 6th Grade girl, pissed as hell and skating herself bloody.”
“I am imagining.” Ransom said thoughtfully. He let her continue.
“Dad came and had to physically stop me and take me off the rink. I screamed a fit and then buried my face into his shoulder and cried my eyes out. But THAT isn’t why I continue to skate now. It would be silly to have nightmares about a stupid boy. My terrible evening was only just beginning.”
-MRC
25
Mar
Geoff rushed back to his office. If he was right, this copy of a parchment could be rather historical in nature and priceless. His memory was a little shaky but his brain had a tickle that he needed relief from. Could this be related to a Pirate treasure?
Once back at his computer he entered a query and then dialed a phone number with a North Carolina area code. He needed more information and he guessed that the owner of the parchment had just what he needed.
“This is Jeannie.”
“Hello Jeannie. My name is Geoff Nelson with History Detectives. You sent me something I want to talk to you about.”
“Oh? You got back to me faster than I thought you might.”
“Well, yes, I think what you have may be of real interest to me and the program. I can’t be sure but you just may have an item related to a Pirate mystery.”
“You aren’t serious? Really? I thought it was just hoo haw.” Jeannie was incredulous. Could her Uncle have been right? If so, was he right about everything?
“No hoo haw, ma’am. This could be a lot of fun. A real adventure. If you are up to it.”
-MRC
24
Mar
PAGE THREE
The dog searches the halls of the monastery for his “robe.” He roams freely and is without fear of the other “robes.” He stops in the doorway of the busy kitchen. One of the “robes” stops and addresses him.
MONK: YOU LOOKING FOR YOUR BUDDY,JAX? HE ISN’T IN HERE, AND YOU KNOW YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE ANYWHERE NEAR THE KITCHEN, MATE. NOW SCOOT.
The “robe” uses a broom to lightly sweep JAX away.
JAX scampers to avoid the broom and continues his search. He is hungry and his “robe” carries his favorite treats. But it is too early in the day for his “robe” to be in the dark room. He wanders in that direction anyway. Just in case.
Sure enough, JAX finds his “robe” JONAS in the dark room, kneeling in front of a dresser. He is whispering something to himself and his eyes are closed.
PAGE FOUR
JONAS repeats a prayer that he repeats often. While he tries to focus only on the words and the meaning of the words, he can not help but recount the sins of his past.
JONAS: STEER THE SHIP OF MY LIFE, GOOD LORD, TO YOUR QUIET HARBOUR,WHERE I CAN BE SAFE FROM THE STORMS OF SIN AND CONFLICT
He remembers a mighty battle in a desert.
JONAS: SHOW ME THE COURSE I SHOULD TAKE. RENEW IN ME THE GIFT OF DISCERNMENT, SO THAT I CAN ALWAYS SEE THE RIGHT DIRECTION IN WHICH I SHOULD GO.
The battle was not going well for JONAS or his fellow soldiers. They pleaded with JONAS to do something before they were all killed.
JONAS: AND GIVE ME THE STRENGTH AND THE COURAGE TO CHOOSE THE RIGHT COURSE, EVEN WHEN THE SEA IS ROUGH AND THE WAVES ARE HIGH, KNOWING THAT THROUGH ENDURING HARDSHIP AND DANGER IN YOUR NAME WE SHALL FIND COMFORT AND PEACE.
JONAS apparently did do something in the end. He remembers a final image of himself standing in a pile of dead soldiers, enemy soldiers, raising his face and voice to the sky in anguish. In his room at the Monastery, he quietly weeps for those he killed.
JONAS: AMEN.
-MRC
23
Mar
Vee squawked rather emphatically as Eric opens his front door.
“Erriiiiiccc!! Where are you? I have urgent news.”
Sighing, “I am right here Vee, relax. Take a deep breath.”
“New Mexico. Mr. Olsen. I think you may want to speak with an Agent of the Law there. It seems a body has been recovered under mysterious circumstances.”
“New Mexico? Does anyone really think Lilith would be in New Mexico? Have you ever been to New Mexico, Vee? There is nothing there.”
“Mr. Olsen, you know I have never been anywhere other than under the employ of the Grand Expeller. Many of your lifetimes have come and gone during that time and none of my employers have ever taken me anywhere.”
“Sorry, Vee. I don’t think many humans would appreciate a disembodied voice with a diva complex.”
“DIVA?! Oh, that tears it. I should switch off and make you handle the Scarlet Terror alone.”
“That wouldn’t be a far cry from what I do already.” Eric nearly bursts into laughter. Then he checks the web for flights to Albuquerque.
-MRC
22
Mar
Johnny heard a new sound coming from the wall in front of him. Since he couldn’t lean closer to it without severely bruising his head, he slowed his breathing in order to hear better. Someone was sobbing ever so slightly. He ventured a small dare.
“Hello.” It was mostly a whisper.
The sobbing stopped abruptly.
“Huu waaaa? Who’s there? Somebody HELP!” Was the frantic reply.
This was not Johnny’s intent at all. Whoever it was was now panicking and hitting the wall of what he supposed was a similar box/cage.
Heavy footfalls preceded a loud thud and a yell.
“SHADDUP!”
Johnny learned a few things with that inadvertent adventure. He wasn’t alone.
-MRC
19
Mar
Ransom’s search came to an abrupt end. Lynn had left in such a foul mood and so quickly, he worried what she might do. He was right to worry. He had a feeling she could be a nasty drunk. Fortunately there were not too many bars in Poulsbo so his search was fairly limited.
“WHAT NOW?!” She hollered at the Sherriff. “Does that JERK want my head on a platter? Well. . He can just get in line, buddy. I only have the one.”
Ransom gave the bartender a look that meant “I’ll handle it.”
Drunken belligerents were a recent specialty for Ransom but he never relished that fact. Most were harmless. This one was a spitfire with current FBI Academy training. There was no telling what might happen. But, he was surprised by her reaction.
“She’s dying and it’s NOT my fault.” Was all she could muster. Of course he had no idea what she was on about.
“Ok. Let’s take a walk.” He tried.
She took his outstretched hand and without warning she collapsed in a sobbing heap into his arms.
-MRC
18
Mar
Two Weeks Later
Geoff wasn’t sure what he was looking at. The letters and lines and dots seemed to make up a sort of codex. What it referred to he wasn’t certain either. The package seemed to be incomplete as far as he could tell. Without a key, he would have trouble deciphering the puzzle. According to the letter that came with the copy of the codex, the original and the key along with a locket were still in the possession of an owner. A woman named Jeannie from North Carolina had received the collection from a recently deceased Uncle and was wondering why he had considered the items to be dangerous.
Geoff couldn’t really do anything with the copy he had as far as validating its authenticity because he had nothing to compare it to. So, he scanned it into his computer and added it to a query that compared it to millions of authenticated and catalogued items. It should take some time to match with anything, if there was anything to match it to, so he went out for lunch. He’d check its progress from his cell phone from time to time. This was the 21st Century after all and technology was his friend.
No sooner had Geoff sat down to a Big Mac and Fries, his phone beeped indicating he had a match.
“That was fast.” He remarked casually as he flipped open his phone.
The staff of the McDonalds, to this day, still talks about the crazy black guy who nearly choked on his Big Mac because of a text message.
-MRC