Under many of the symbols are three rows of alphanumeric text. On the previous Saturday, she had accompanied her parents to the Family Thrift Outlet located on Mercury Boulevard. As she was browsing through various other items in a large bin, she noticed the strange device. After careful observation, she decided to purchase it. On arriving home, she examined it meticulously. Presently, Charlene is utterly fascinated by what she has read so far. She has paraphrased much of the information in a composition book. She assumed that the device was an old Mattel game toy that someone had thrown in the trash. Her assumption faded after, via trial and error, she began operating it.
To her knowledge, Mattel Corporation does not make flat screen displays that show 5th century English text. To her surprise, she had missed some barely readable writing on the backside: Samuel Cubins 9-22-1860. Quite a few of the words she had brought up earlier had no meaning to her.
Presently, she is reading a journal-like entry that appears to indicate a travel list to various places that are, to her knowledge, not located in any country of which she is aware. She sees on-screen graphic symbols on the page bottom. After examining these symbols, she touches one of them with her right forefinger. To her surprise, all the text vanishes. Yet, the bottom graphic symbols remain.
The symbol she had touched is flashing. She touches that symbol again. Within the display, the image of a humanoid alien appears and stares back at her. Behind the alien are others that are walking about. Dropping the device on the table, Charlene stands up and backs away in fear. Terror grips her as a full-size holographic image of that same alien appears above the device. Looking directly at Charlene, the alien begins speaking. Screaming, Charlene turns and runs out of the room.
The Clark Residence
Monday, 5 August 1974 (2:47 PM)
“But still, why did he come here?” David asks. “I mean, what was the point of him coming all the way to earth only to crash his ship? It’s almost like an earlier occurrence of the Roswell crash in New Mexico.”
“This sucks,” Tyrone reasons. “He survives the crash, but doesn’t call for help. Then he’s killed by some idiot who then blows himself up.”
“I’m sure there’s a lot more to this than what we presently know,” Nathan continues after he finishes laughing. “And I still think all this has something to do with the extraspatial otivicon. It has to!”
David also stops laughing. “At least, we can be certain of one thing.”
“What’s that?” Tyrone asks.
“Given the relatively short time that it took for Daljik to reach Earth, we now know that his disappearance on his world coincided with Monday, September 17, 1860.”
“Then how do we find the corresponding selothian date?” Tyrone asks.
“Well, considering what you said last Wednesday,” David continues, “although we don’t know the exact selothian date, we can approximate the selothian month, Vophar.”
“Why Vophar?” Nathan asks.
“Well, just as September is the ninth month of our calendar year, so Vophar is the ninth month of their calendar year.”
Nathan smiles. “And Chislev is the ninth month of the ancient Hebrew calendar, which falls between mid-November and mid-December.”
“Okay, Mr. Exodus expert, what’s your point?”
“Here’s my thing,” Nathan continues. “Even though we’ve determined the chronological order of their months, it’s highly unlikely that the length of their months align with ours, assuming they use a lunar-based calendar. So, their year may begin earlier or later than our Earth year.”
“This is becoming difficult,” David admits after a brief sigh.
“I’m with you on that,” Nathan agrees. “Using the Gregorian calendar, our years begin in January. The ancient Israelites used the old Hebrew calendar, which was also twelve months long. The Hebrew calendar began in the Passover month of Abib, which was later changed to Nisan.”
“Which falls between March and April,” David surmises.
“Right,” Nathan agrees. “The selothian calendar year may begin in our summer or autumn. It’s like trying to correlate a specific event with regard to the ancient Mayan calendar and a modern day Chinese calendar.”
“I know,” David admits frustrated. “But until we obtain more facts, I’m going to assume that their months, most likely, align with ours.”
“I’d rather stick to the facts rather than make arbitrary assumptions,” Nathan adds. “Also…Wait!”
“What?”
“I just thought of something that we could use to pull this off.”
“How?”
“We can use an event marker.”
David is puzzled. “An event marker?”
“Yeah, something that marks the occurrence of an event.”
David rolls his eyes away. “Dude, I knew what you meant. How would this apply in this situation?”
“We can use something to mark the exact date of two simultaneously occurring historical events, one event on Earth and the other on Dabenar.”
“Nathan, Earth and Dabenar are spaced 13,200 light-years apart.”
“I know.”
“So, what can we use to accomplish this?”
“A stellar event.”
“A stellar event?”
“Yeah, we can search for one, maybe two stellar events that were observed and recorded by Earth astronomers and Dabenar astronomers.”
David is dumbfounded. “Nathan, think about what you’re saying.”
“Okay.”
“You’re suggesting that we find a stellar event that was occurring at the exact time when two separate historical events, one Earth and one on Dabenar, were in progress.”
“Exactly.”
“Plus, you’re talking about using a number of these stellar events to mark other simultaneously occurring historical events, also on both planets. Do you see the immense difficulty in accomplishing this feat?”
“David, I know it’s not going to be easy. Still, we can use the resultant information to compile a series of dates that will allow us to align our two calendars and formulate a frame of reference for both worlds.”
“Dude! This could take months! Years! I mean, my God, we would have to search through numerous astronomical archives and cross-reference that information with tons of alien information that we have yet to decipher.”
“I’m aware of that,” Nathan concludes.
“I hope you do. There isn’t a man on the face of the earth that can accomplish this!” David feels that the success of such an endeavor would be akin to a biblical miracle.
“I am so out of here,” Tyrone states as he walks off, shaking his head.
8:30 PM
“Men! They always think they’re smarter than women,” Sylvia says to herself. “I’ll show them!” Inspired by Diane’s actions, Sylvia had secretly removed twelve sheets of paper from David’s brown suitcase. Notes from David’s personal journal, the alien writing and the skeleton photo had piqued her interest. The alien writing, however, had piqued her attention the most. Within two days, she had copied the contents of all twelve sheets, twenty-four pages. She had returned the original papers to the suitcase before the last altercation between Tyrone and David.
She was quite eager to try her hand at translating the alien language. Smiling, she focuses on the initial results of her efforts. She is curious about four unusually sounding words; jebaran, maendir, thuan and panru. Although presently unable to determine any selothian dates, she takes note of several events that appears to have had received considerable attention. As Sylvia takes note of these events, she becomes interested in a feminine-sounding name: Quafeira. She begins reasoning that Quafeira sounds as if it could be of an ancient Egyptian, Nubian or Cushite origin. Like many of her peers, she had come to appreciate learning about advanced Afrikan kingdoms such as Ghana, Mali and Songhay.
Based upon what she has learned thus far, Sylvia reasons that Quafeira is most likely an alien derivative of Quedesha, which
means “Egyptian goddess” or Queisha (Aeisha), the Swahili term for life or woman. While examining her work, she concludes that her translations are most likely correct. Still, questions are forming in her mind. Is Quafeira a queen similar to ancient Nubian Queen Ahmose-Nefertari or possibly the ancient biblical Queen of Sheba, thought by some research historians to be the Ethiopian Queen Makeda? Could Quafeira be similar to the Biblical Ethiopian Queen Can·da′ce? Could she be a government high official?
Suddenly, an idea hits her. She feels that historical events on Dabenar can be better understood if they could somehow be referenced to an Earth historical time frame. Thus, she concludes that she would have to find a way to mark the occurrences of two simultaneous historical events, one on Dabenar and the other on Earth. Despite this enormous challenge, Sylvia feels certain that she can accomplish this audacious feat, as well as find the answers to these puzzling questions.
CHAPTER 8 TROUBLE OUT WEST
Ripley, Ohio
Saturday, August 21, 1858 (4:35 AM)
The small village, called by numerous people as Freedom Town, is almost within his reach. Through much of the early morning darkness, the runaway slave has been wading through the cold water. His strength has been drained considerably by the lack of food and sleep. Yet, he knows that he must keep going. Far past the shoreline, he sees the burning lamp in the window of the Rankin House.
Years earlier, his grandfather, Kwasi, had told him about the light on the hill. For many years, many other enslaved men and women had risked their lives as they waded through this same river. They knew that back on the Kentucky side of the Ohio River was death at the hands of savage white mobs and their flesh-eating bloodhounds. The shore is a few yards distant. Tired and hungry, the 17-year-old struggles onward. Two black men, Byron Reed and John Parker, approach him. As Byron holds a lamp, John reaches for the frightened teenager and helps him ashore. On dry land, he falls to his knees nearly exhausted.
“What’s your name?” John asks.
“Kodwo suh. Kodwo Duah.”
Northern California
The Mining Town of Carbonwood
Monday, September 17, 1860
“What in God’s name is that?” Silas Baldwin asks aloud. He begins to back in horror as the fiery object heads straight for the mountain's northern side. A few seconds later, the object slams into the mountain and explodes. Silas stands petrified as he watches an intense, yellowish-orange fireball rise high into the dark early morning sky. A few seconds later, Silas hears the sound of that distant explosion. Though terrified, his strong curiosity overcomes his fear.
By early dawn, Silas reaches the site of the explosion. As he approaches the site, he fingers his holstered weapon. Still, Silas is unprepared for what he is about to see. Within the blackened and smoldering area are various sized chunks of brightly burning material along with other debris. In some places, the acrid smell of smoke and other noxious fumes are overwhelming. “Dang! What’s all this?” He asks aloud. He scans the area around him. His strong curiosity compels him to move farther on. Larger, blackened and burning remnants of the object are still intact. Silas realizes that he is looking at the remains of a huge metallic structure. He stops and begins backing away. Silas halts after hearing a distinct moan behind him. As he turns, he unholsters and raises his weapon, an old 1851 Colt Navy .36 caliber revolver.
Another individual is walking out from among the shadows toward him. “Come no closer or I’ll shoot!” Silas yells. Cocking the hammer, he fingers the trigger. Silas aims his revolver at the individual standing just a few yards away. Silas’ eyes widen with fright as the strange looking individual is approaching him. The individual is equally fearful on seeing Silas. Their eyes meet in a curious gaze. “In the name of Almighty God,” Silas yells in horror, “what manner of creature are you?”
Friday, 21 September 1860 (7:55 PM)
“You are wasting my time and making me lose money. Now I want mining operations resumed by Monday.”
“Mr. Randolph, sir, be reasonable,” Benjamin Geere pleads. “We can only move all those pieces of debris at night so as to attract the least attention. We are doing our very best to keep people and news reporters out of the area.” Benjamin feels that arguing with Jacob is futile. States’ Rights and pro-slavery advocate Jacob Randolph, though, is dissatisfied with the clean-up operation. “Apparently Mr. Geere, your men ain’t moving fast enough to suit me! Now, I’m paying y’all good money outta mah pawkit!” Placing his personal copy of Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species down on the table, Jacob takes a quick puff from his imported Corona cigar. Wearing a gray three-piece suit, Randolph is nothing short of harsh and demanding.
The bald-headed, bushy eye-browed and overweight mine owner has a singular motto: You can never have enough money. Flanked by his associates, William Lotz, 47, and Daniel Wyles, 49, Jacob makes his point with crystal clarity.
“We appreciate the money,” Sidney interrupts Jacob, after glancing at Benjamin. “I know that we can finish the job. We just need more—”
“Time Mr. Buford?” Jacob angrily interrupts, fingering his cigar. “I'll give ya’ plenty of time! I'm giving each of y’all ‘til Sunday night to clear away whatever that mess is or you’re both fired!”
Sidney is angered over Randolph’s orders to dispose of the wreckage. “Mr. Randolph, we had to dig a shaft deep enough to throw all those pieces down into it before we sealed it. Two men died after being exposed to some type of bluish-green fluid. Sir, we have no idea of what we are handling.” Even as Sidney is talking, Jacob, while still enjoying an imported La Corona cigar, turns toward Lotz. Lotz shakes his head in the negative. Jacob takes another puff. “Mr. Buford! Those dead men ain’t my concern. Find some lazy blacks or chinks and put them to work! My bank lenders will have their foot up my tail if I don’t make them their money.”
“Sir, I would love to put my foot up your fat tail!” Buford says within himself. “Mr. Randolph, it’ll be done by Sunday.”
“Good! You make sure of that! Now, get out!”
Wednesday, 26 September 1860 (8:00 PM)
“I want the gold. Show me the gold first,” Sidney demands as he stands with his right hand out. Within the forest, the waning sunlight is making them nervous. Samuel reaches into his saddlebag, pulls out a leather purse, walks back to Sidney and opens the purse. Sidney smiles profusely as he sees a number of gold nuggets. “Now, show me the object.”
Sidney opens his own saddlebag and removes a beige-colored, partially burned rectangular object. Samuel begins examining the object with glee.
“Take the gold! It’s yours,” he tells Sidney. One minute later, both men mount their respective horses and ride off.
Cumberland Street
Charleston, South Carolina
Friday, September 21, 1865 (10:35 AM)
From across the street, four black teenagers, standing near the entrance of the Vulcan Iron Works building, are watching Serwa as she is putting the last of her belongings on the back of the wagon. Her husband, while looking at the devastation around him, inwardly vows that he will never return to this devastated city, now under Union Army control. Major areas of Charleston, commercial epicenter of the American slave trade, are still in ruins due to an earlier bombardment by the Union Navy.
Thomas Williams had witnessed firsthand the numerous deaths of Confederate soldiers and civilians alike. The stench from dead bodies simply became too much for him. Both realize that their journey west is going to be long and arduous. Much earlier, his brother-in-law, via a letter from the west coast, had advised them both that conditions out west would be far better for them. He promised to house them until they get back on their feet. Urged by his wife and inspired further by the letter, Thomas was ever more determined to leave Charleston. Thomas motions the horses to begin moving. Two hours later, Serwa is feeling safer. “I’ll feel a lot better since we left that awful city,” she exclaims.
“Same here, our final stop will be Los Angeles.”
>
“After Kodwo escaped, Massa Haywood got irate and sold the rest to Massa Vincent so Kodwo could never find us.”
“Well, that didn’t work. After Emmanuel’s escape, Kodwo escaped later with two others.”
“He said that things will be better for us out west. Right?”
“That’s not the main reason why Kodwo wants us there.”
“Thomas, what do you mean?
“Emmanuel has returned to your relatives in Ghana.”
“How? Grandfather was brought here decades ago.”
“Serwa, the letter that Kodwo sent us had three pages.”
She is mildly angered. “What was on the last page?”
Thomas stops the horses. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he removes a folded sheet of paper and hands it to her. She unfolds the paper and reads the contents. As she is reading, her mouth drops open in surprise. “What on earth is Kodwo talking about? Who is Joshua Cross? And what is this about some strange device?”
“Now that we are out of the city, I can tell you everything.”
END
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