Discovery
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THE CRYPTID TRILOGY:
CRYPTID DISCOVERY
© 2016 Douglas E Roff and Jacob a Roff
THE CRYPTID TRILOGY
Adam St. James, software genius and savant Chief Technologist of the massive US federal DataLab Project, had just returned to his home in Barrows Bay, British Columbia from Tucson, Arizona. He had spent the better part of the past month working on a pro bono assignment for his father’s friend Peter Berg, Regional Director of the FBI, working out of the Seattle field office. His favor for the FBI was to secure the mother lode and Holy Grail of the FBI’s Joint Organized Crime Task Force that Berg believed he had accidentally stumbled upon. Mere fortuity had led him to what he thought was fifty years or more of Mafia financial books and records detailing organized criminality from Seattle to Miami and all points in between.
What Adam found was nothing even remotely resembling what Regional Director Berg was looking for. It had been a small clerical error made by a temp transposing a letter or two in a last name that led Adam St. James to his incredible discovery. But this discovery was too incredible, too massive to even contemplate as being authentic. Adam himself did not believe it could be true. Would he be proven correct or was the truth too immeasurably stranger than fiction?
If Adam had accidently stumbled upon a great discovery, it would mean that he had fortuitously confirmed the existence of the cryptid of all cryptids. Had Adam found scientific and verifiable proof of the existence of an unknown species of creatures capable of transforming to human form or was this some immense practical joke designed to annoy and embarrass him and his father, noted forensic archeologist and author, Edward St. James?
The journey is fantastic, the discovery, if true, immense.
But will Adam and his eclectic family survive discovery? Will humanity?
Cryptid: Discovery is Volume One of the Trilogy that chronicles the discovery of the Gens Collective, ancient and primal beings previously unknown to humanity but living among mankind as crypto humans.
Cryptid: Probe is Volume Two of the Trilogy as Adam continues his mission to prove the existence of the Gens Collective and verify the plot of the rogue Gens Black Shirts to obliterate all human life on the planet.
Cryptid: Resolution is Volume Three of the Trilogy sets the stage for the resolution of the coming apocalyptic war of the species and the fate of the planet.
They live among us.
Murder, intrigue, deception, treachery, lust and betrayal all come together in the Cryptid Trilogy as mankind faces off against an unknown species bent on its total destruction as the dominant species on the planet.
Adam continues to develop his amazing natural abilities as he seeks to understand and control them. How will this saga end?
Cryptid:
a creature or plant whose existence has been suggested but has not been discovered or documented by the scientific community
FOREWARD
This story was conceived by my son and co-author as a family storytelling project one day while we were driving down the I-5 between Blaine, Washington, where we then visiting, and Bellingham, Washington where we were going shopping. That was in 2014, and we have since collaborated on the plot and the direction of the political, moral and philosophical themes we wish to raise in this novel and the subsequent novels in the Cryptid Trilogy.
A primary goal was to make the characters and plots reflect the extraordinary social, political and intellectual changes taking place not only in the United States and Canada, but also around the world, driven by technology and the many challenges it raises for privacy and personal security. We hope the totality of our stories and characters are more hopeful than apocalyptic, but the seeds of our own misery and destruction have been sown already. How we manage the good and evil of our politics and technology remains in the hands of future generations; I hope they do better than my generation that has taken the magic of science and turned it into George Orwell’s, 1984 or some version of a post-apocalyptic world we have destroyed all by ourselves.
References to Canada reflect the great love and affection the authors feel for the country that has welcomed us warmly over many, many years. My mother, a Canadian girl from Winnipeg, Manitoba married my American father but never gave up her Canadian citizenship and never became an American citizen. While I never became hockey fan, I am great fan of Canada, the Canadian people and its new Prime Minister. I would trade Justin Trudeau for Donald Trump as my US President any day, though why any Canadian would want a morally bankrupt Trump in exchange for JT is beyond me.
President Obama was said to have counseled JT at one of their meetings that JT needed to become more active as a voice of moral leadership on the world stage. I terms of moral courage and leadership driven by the best of common Canadian and America values, I lend my tiny voice to this plea. Canada has more than a great PM, he is a gem in the constellation world governments.
The novel also brings front and center the influential role of Mexico, Mexican immigrants and Mexican culture which has been so pervasive in my life, who has lived for extended periods of time in both Mexico City and Guadalajara while traveling the length and breadth of Mexico. I currently reside part time in Merida, Yucatan. It is a country I love, a warm and welcoming people I admire and a rich culture I wholly embrace.
The women in the novel are strong, intelligent, highly capable and immensely talented characters, reflecting a reality that, in my opinion, is too seldom prominently or accurately on display in today’s modern media: books, TV and the movies.
I am not afraid to say I am a feminist, supported the ERA and support Choice, and do not use words that disparage women in my personal life. The word “bitch” should be stricken from the English lexicon along with the “W” word, the “C” word and the “S” regarding women. These words are never used carelessly in any of my novels; only in context of characters without character. It pains me to hear women use these words as it pains me to hear Blacks use the “N” word. We’re better than this, even when we’re angry, drunk or acting stupid. Have I used them? Yes. No longer.
Shailene Woodley, actress, environmentalist and humanitarian, as a part of a longer quote on feminism once said, in part, “My biggest thing is really sisterhood more than feminism. I don't know how we as women expect men to respect us because we don't seem to respect each other.”
Even if men can’t stop this disgraceful use of disparaging terms, perhaps if enough women and enough men do, change can happen one heart at a time. I challenge my readers to find sufficient analogs to similar words about men. With men, they are marks of pride and sexual prowess; with women it is denigration. Equality is best ingrained in the way we treat each other, not laws.
Let he hate mail begin. My name is Douglas Roff; feel free to denigrate me in the reviews of my books; I am happy to let the strength of my ideas fight the ignorance of the Trumpists infecting America and the world. I’m both an American and Canadian citizen, proudly Progressive and don’t give a spit for right wing racists, misogynists, anti-Semites and haters.
On a lighter note, I have constructed an alternate and reimagined world that does not exist. At least not one that I know of anyway.
Douglas Roff
DEDICATION
For all Pugs, who make God smile.
For Nickelback whose song “Never Again” was inspiring.
For Michelle Branch and Carlos Santana whose music lifts me up every day
TABLE OF CONTENTS
SCOPERTA, L’INIZIO
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
PROVA E DUBBIO
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
FATTI E FEDE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
The Cryptid Trilogy
Cryptid: Discovery
SCOPERTA, L’INIZIO
Prologue
“Son … son …?
“Here, Dad,” the younger man said reflexively, waking to the soft sounds coming from the old man he barely recognized any longer as his father. The old man’s breathing had become so shallow that the younger man could no longer tell whether his father had mercifully passed or was still barely clinging to a life he no longer wished to endure. Connected as he was to a complex array of hospital machines, and laden with drugs to ease the pain, the old man held on. Not out of fear for the inevitable fate that awaited him, but for those final few minutes, perhaps hours, during which he could embrace the only thing that had ever really mattered to him: his son.
In another place, but not this place, he was completely at peace. The hardware of his body had long ago deserted him, but not the software that ran an incredible and powerful mind.
The old man had endured a life seeking to reconcile his long and fruitful life with a senseless death caused so many years ago in a trendy LA coffee house. Only the insurmountable pain of separation from her had lingered like an old friend, ever constant in lifelong companionship.
But his God was a loving God who had given him a son, a son who had meant everything to him in so many ways. His love for him had always been unconditional, though its manner of expression often less than ideal. If he had been harsh with his son, he had never meant to be.
In the past few days, the old man had reflected on his own long life and troubling imperfections over which he believed he had held so little sway. In the face of the many demons he had come to accept had permeated and consumed the very edges of his soul, he realized that the time had drawn near to simply let go of them and his fragile life.
He did not fear death, and in his rational mind he welcomed it. He would miss them, miss them all so very much, but welcomed the reunion he knew God would surely permit: the union of his soul with Anna’s. He awaited the prospect of an eternity of joy, a joy he had not experienced in life since their parting.
The younger man watched his father as he prepared to surrender his soul but saw only a body clothed in skin loosely draped over bone. That the old man survived until his son’s late arrival was astonishing, but he now sensed that the hour glass of his life was almost empty. Only the last few grains remaining had yet to fall.
The younger man loved his father, brilliant and imperfect. To the many who knew and loved him, he was the paradigm of a conflicted generation. To those who did not, the event was long past due and a just recompense for the harm he had caused throughout his long life.
“You came back. I’m glad you came back for me; did she come with you too?”
“She’s at home with the kids, Dad. She misses you and wanted to be here, but you know how the Agreement works. Not allowed anymore. They made this one exception for me.”
“Are you, I mean both of you, happy now? I have always hoped you were. Finally.”
“We are Dad. And we wish you had come with us. We wanted us all to be togeth
er at the end. Our world will be smaller and less rich without your presence in it.”
“Thank you, son. But there was so much to do with family here and nobody left to tend the garden. I had to stay. They all needed me for so long; now there’s just a few of us left. Only a few who were with us in the very beginning. I miss them all so very much; I miss their warmth and the pure joy of our adventure. And I miss the voices of our extended family, all of them.”
“I know Dad. It was the right decision for you. I know that now. And where we live now, well we think you would have liked it a lot. But you had so much to do, and so very many who needed you more.”
“Where did you settle? Can you say? Is it allowed?”
“We went to Africa, Dad. East Africa to the Serengeti. We’re nomads now, following the ancient herds in the Great Rift Valley, and our lives are good. Simple and happy, living as God intended. For us.”
“And the kids?”
“Seven altogether. All happy and healthy. And she’s become a great Mom. She still cries when we talk about you with the little ones; she misses you so very much.”
“I see,” was all he said. Their conversation paused. “Do they know our story? What you two did for this world? We cannot ever forget. It cannot pass into obscurity, as before.”
“It won’t. She recorded the history in the book of our family, remembering all of them. All faithfully recorded for who they were and what they did. For us, and for every living creature on this earth.”
“Just so.” The old man closed his eyes, pausing ever so briefly, “I will miss you, and all that we did. And I miss them all so much, all of them who were with us then. But I guess it’s time to end this journey, my journey.”
His eyes closed, and his last breath taken, the old man’s spirit lifted to another place, happy to rejoin the enormous family he loved and had protected all his life.
His son tenderly kissed his father’s forehead, then began the long road back to his life and his people so far away. He left three volumes she wrote of family history and several computer discs on the table beside his father’s bed. They were addressed to the Old Man’s numerous grandchildren and great grandchildren. The doctor attending the Old Man, one of his grandchildren, would see to it that the Book of St. James would get to its intended recipients.
The younger man departed quickly, turning away once again from the world he once knew and occupied. He would be back, he hoped; there was still much to reconcile and only a brief lifetime remaining in which to complete his final tasks.