God Stones: Books 1 - 3

by Otto Schafer

  “Just when did you get home?” Phillip asked.

  “A few minutes ago,” Garrett said, looking at the floor.

  “Well, haven’t the streetlights been on for a while?” Phillip asked, his eyes flicking towards the soft glow illuminating the street beyond the window.

  Garett didn’t respond; his father knew exactly how long the streetlights had been on. His gut told him this was going to be bad.

  “Answer me,” his father said, aggravation seeping into his voice.

  “I… I…” he said, daring to look up and glimpse the table. Dear God, no razor strap. He dared a second glance to find Phillip’s hands weren’t clasped. They weren’t hiding anything.

  His mother sighed. “Relax, Phillip. I heard the screen door slam a few minutes ago. Now stop with this.”

  “Bull… shit,” Phillip responded. “I have an easy way to deal with a boy who can’t follow the rules.” Suddenly the razor strap appeared from below the table! Phillip slowly panned his eyes from the strap to Garrett. “How many times have I told you, Garrett? How many times have we discussed the importance of following the rules? How many times should I allow you to disobey?”

  Garrett’s guts twisted and his heart caught, refusing to beat. His eyes betrayed him, fear-filled and obvious, as they ballooned, fixed on the coiled razor strap. It was really going to happen. He was going to get the strap. Suddenly his gut rolled, and he thought he might be sick. Then he found words. He didn’t know how they came, but they came. “I don’t understand why I have to be home when the streetlights come on. I’m sixteen. How does this help me with my training?” His tone was passionate, and instantly he knew he had made a mistake.

  It was Phillip’s turn to look as though his eyes might pop from his head. “Martial arts training, sword training, cross-country, your additional studies, your side jobs – these disciplines take great dedication. I need to know – no, I have to know – you’re disciplined enough to follow the rules even when no one is looking. You are so close, Garrett…”

  Garrett could tell his mind was somewhere else. He wanted to ask what he meant, but he was too afraid to speak.

  Elaine shot Phillip a sharp look. “What your father is saying is—”

  “What I am saying is you have to be disciplined, and when you fail there must be consequences!” Phillip said, his voice louder now. He placed his palms on the table and stood to his full height. “The rules are not to be questioned, boy! How they matter is not for you to ask or even imagine. Your sole, singular, solitary, and only purpose is to obey them unconditionally!” Phillip’s height seemed to rise along with the volume of his voice.

  Garrett’s cheeks flushed as he began to sweat. Helplessly, he watched as the razor strap uncoiled in Phillip’s hand.

  Suddenly, Elaine reached over to the kitchen counter and snatched up her flyswatter. “Mr. Man, you are damn close to a strapping and a grounding, you understand me? Your curfew is set for a reason, and if you’re to learn responsibility, you need to manage your time better and ensure you are in this house by the time the streetlights are on… Period. This is not negotiable and will not be tolerated. If it happens again, you will be whipped. No more excuses.” She leveled the flyswatter even with Garrett’s nose. “Do you understand me?” She slapped the flyswatter down hard on the counter – whack!

  Garrett blinked, startled out of the trance the strap held over him.

  “No exceptions!” She struck the flyswatter on the counter a second time to emphasize her point – whack!

  Yes, ma’am,” Garrett responded, looking down at his socked feet. He knew she was really mad, because she had called him Mr. Man. But he also heard something else. If this happens again, you will be whipped. Which meant he wasn’t going to get whipped this time? He dared to glance back over toward his stepfather still holding the uncoiled razor strap.

  Phillip screwed up his face, then shook his head in disgust. “Go get cleaned up. You’re a sweaty mess, and you smell. If you’re late again, I’m beating your ass and I really don’t give two shits what your mother has to say about it.”

  Garrett blinked in disbelief but wasted no time taking advantage of the opportunity to flee the kitchen. Once beyond the threshold, he leaned heavily against the wall, his legs weak. He quickly realized he was still within earshot of his parents.

  “Phillip, please tell me you were not really going to beat him with that razor strap?”

  There was no response. Then Garrett heard his mother’s voice again. “I love you, Phillip, and I am grateful you’re here, but surely you understand that would break our deal, effectively voiding this arrangement… permanently.”

  “Not here, Elaine,” Phillip responded in an oddly deadpan tone.

  “He is getting older, you know. He is going to start to questio—”

  “Not… here,” he said again, absolute. Then he lowered his voice.

  Garrett leaned in, straining to hear.

  “All things in time.”

  Arrangement? Garrett thought. She sounded strange too – they both did – but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The sound of footsteps coming towards him from the kitchen broke his trance, and he moved away from the door. Don’t be stupid now, Garrett. You’re lucky to be alive, he thought. Holy shit, am I really in the clear? All he knew for sure was that he owed his mom big time for this one.

  After washing up, Garrett headed back toward the kitchen but was intercepted by James. “You know, when I was your age, I would have been slaughtered for showing up one second after the streetlights came on, and you show up like ten minutes late and somehow you manage to skate out of there without a scratch.”

  Garrett was no longer in the mood for his older brother’s crap. “Oh yeah, and when I’m your age, I’m going to have a car, a girl, and a house, and not be living at home with my mommy and daddy till I’m like thirty.” He attempted to push his way past to get to the kitchen. James blocked his brother’s move, placed a hand on top of his shoulder, and pinched ahold of the neck muscle with a ridiculous grip, dropping Garrett to his knees instantly.

  “I’m not thirty, asswipe,” James said between clenched teeth.

  “Ahhh… uncle, uncle!” Garrett pleaded, trying to break his grip but failing miserably.

  “What in the Sam Hill are you guys doing in there?” their father yelled. “It’s time to eat.”

  Over dinner, Garrett’s father yelled at him twice for chewing his food too loudly, and yelled at James once for being too finicky and not allowing any of the food on his plate to touch. The round steak could not touch the potatoes, and the potatoes could not touch the green beans. Frustrated, his father asked, “What the hell does it matter if your food touches or doesn’t touch? It’s all going to the same place anyway. And I got news for you, son, it’s all going to touch when it gets there.”

  “Oh, Phillip, leave him alone if he doesn’t want his food to touch,” Elaine said, turning her attention to Garrett. “Eugene called today and asked if you would be available to help him with some yard work this Saturday. I told him you would and that you would bring some friends, maybe Peter and Lenny?”

  “Yeah, Mom, that sounds great! What does he need us to do?” Garrett was not one to turn down any opportunity for extra work, and his cleanup job at the park was only after school. Besides, he really liked Eugene.

  “Well, he can give you the details Saturday, but I think you will be digging up a stump in the backyard. He mentioned using the hole to put in a goldfish pond.” Elaine passed the mashed potatoes to James, who carefully segregated the potatoes from the other food on his plate.

  Phillip sighed, shaking his head.

  Taking a bite of his round steak, Garrett said, “Okay, I’ll get a couple buddies together, and we’ll knock it out for him.”

  Through clenched teeth, Phillip stabbed at the air with his fork in Garrett’s direction. “For the third time, stop smacking your lips while you eat, and chew with your mouth closed. After dinner help your mothe
r clear the table, feed the rabbits, and do the rest of your chores, then practice your sword for one hour. Study geography and plant foraging for thirty minutes each. I want you to focus locally. Seeing as how you like to ignore the rules by staying out late to run, tomorrow night you will be practicing emergency bug-out techniques. I want you to map three separate routes that will take you ten miles out from the house with no human contact. If I deem one of your routes acceptable, then you will navigate it tomorrow night. This land navigation will require the use of stars. No compass this time, so you better pay special attention to the topography maps as you plan.”

  Garrett frowned. No compass and in the dark?

  His father paused, frowning back across the table as if he could read Garrett’s mind. “That’s right. No compass. James won’t know your route, and he will track you. I will pick you up at the end of the route at a designated time. If you miss the cutoff or if James is successful in tracking you, you will get to hike back home, getting even less sleep. This exercise will also double as sleep-deprivation training.”

  “Yes, sir,” Garrett said. He knew James would be able to track him no matter how careful he was – somehow, he always could. What Garrett didn’t know was how Phillip knew he was late because he had been running. For the remainder of dinner, the family sat eating in silence, and Garrett was careful to chew his food with his mouth shut.

  As Garrett and his mother cleared the table, Garrett made use of the private moment to ask one of many questions that had been bothering him. “Do you think other kids are practicing bug-out techniques?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, I think between James and me, we pick some of the best routes for a bug-out, and I have never seen anyone else on them. I’ve never seen tracks from anyone either. Also… well…” Garrett paused.

  “Well, what?”

  “I’ve never heard other kids talk about their bug-out practice,” he said carefully.

  “Garrett, you know the answers to these questions. You know the rules say we don’t talk of these things outside the family. Don’t you think their rules say the same?”

  “I suppose so,” Garrett said, wringing out a rag. He did suppose, but he wasn’t convinced.

  “Listen to me,” his mother said softly. “All kids have their own trainings and practice. Yours may be different, that’s all.” She turned from the table, hands full of silverware. As she placed the silverware in the sink, she glanced back at him with a look of serious appraisal and asked, “Have you been asking your friends about their training?”

  “No! No, ma’am. Of course not. I was just curious.”

  “Careful with curiosity – it can be a dangerous thing,” she said, placing the last dish in the sink. “Now run along, feed the rabbits, and get to your training.”

  4

  Old Friend, New Plan

  One year earlier

  Mexico

  Breanne handed her father the satellite phone, and he accepted it with a pained grunt.

  “Jerry, is everything okay?” he asked anxiously, placing a hand on his lower back and twisting.

  He nodded. “Oh yeah, we’re okay here, but you are part of the reason for that. If you hadn’t called when you did, we wouldn’t have been on our way out. What’s happening on your end?”

  Her father listened for a moment. “Oak Island in Nova Scotia? Jerry, there’s nothing on Oak Island except wishful thinking – please tell me you’re not asking me to participate in the next Oak Island reality show.”

  Breanne arched an eyebrow.

  Her father returned her look with a shrug and continued to listen to Jerry. “So you’re telling me there was a legit team there doing real archeology?”

  Breanne watched as an incredulous look spread across her father’s face. “Daddy, what is he saying?”

  “My God,” was all he could get out. “My God, my God. On Oak Island? And have they performed carbon dating?” Dr. Moore asked with all the seriousness of a priest taking confession.

  As her father began to pace, Breanne began to pace with him.

  “So, what, they just disposed of them? And then buried—”

  Breanne shot Paul a frustrated look. “Daddy? What is it? What did they find?”

  “But I don’t understand. You’re telling me the Knights Templar…” He looked over his shoulder as if expecting to see someone there spying, then he spoke in a lowered voice. “Who is funding this thing anyway?”

  Breanne had positioned herself so close to her father she could almost hear what Jerry was saying… almost.

  Paul laughed, shaking his head at her tenacity.

  “What do you mean you can’t tell me who he is? You expect me to just drop what I got going here, come to Oak Island, and lead an expedition for some secret funder I know nothing about?” Her father spun in a circle, nearly running into her, the phone pulling away from his ear as he flailed for balance.

  That was the opening she was waiting for. Breanne dodged with precision timing, reached around her father, and pressed the speaker button on the satellite phone.

  He blinked at her, unamused, as Jerry’s voice filled the gorge with his regal British accent. “There are some rules to this, some things you will need to agree to in order to lead this. There is a plane waiting for you at the airport – how soon can you get there?”

  “Wait a minute! I can’t leave here now! I just made a huge discovery – I almost died. This might be one of the greatest discoveries of my career—”

  “Charles, you know I wouldn’t be feeding you codswallop. This will be the greatest bloody discovery of your career. We already pulled the team out. It will only be you and your sons. Completely secret, and you will be able to publish anything you find on the island, including the recent discoveries. And dammit, man, you said it yourself – you owe me! For what I’ve no idea, but nevertheless! You’ll have full funding, Charles, anything you need – now get your arse here.”

  “But Breanne. She’s here now. She graduated high school two years early. She’s planning to spend a year with me before college. I can’t just—”

  “Breanne, yes. Brilliant girl. Well, bring her with you.”

  Breanne’s chin jutted upward at the compliment as she nodded in agreement.

  “This site, Jerry, I can’t just leave it. We made a hell of a discovery.” He quickly brought Jerry up to speed.

  Breanne observed her father as he stared back at the newly collapsed entrance. His face dropped like a brick as his emotions flipped from elation at being alive to gut-wrenching disappointment.

  “Charles, listen to me, old chap, if I am understanding you correctly, your remarkable find is buried under God only knows how much rubble, and will take God only knows how long to dig out. I have all your travel arrangements made. Put a team in place there to handle your affairs, stop faffing about, and get to Oak Island,” Jerry begged. “Have you talked to Sarah? She would be perfect to lead a team there – you should call her.”

  Breanne smiled again and nodded.

  An awkward silence filled the line, bouncing off some unassuming satellite before finding its way back to earth.

  Jerry was right, and she knew it. Her dad should call Sarah. Why did adults have to be so difficult?

  “Listen, chum. Despite how things were left between you two, can you think of anyone better to lead a team on this specific site? After all, she is a bloody speleologist – the best in her field. You need the expertise of someone who specializes in cave archeology, someone like Sarah.”

  Paul and Breanne shared a look that said, You tell him, Jerry!

  “Charles?” Jerry said. “Are you there?”

  Dr. Moore pulled off his fedora and ran his hands up his face and through his hair. “I’ll do it. I’ll come to Oak Island.”

  In the airport terminal Breanne sat across from her father, journaling her harrowing Mexico expedition on her laptop. She had another motive for sitting as close as she could to her father, though – to eavesdro
p on his conversation with Sarah. Her father had refused to elaborate any further on the Oak Island finds. Instead he told her a little patience would be good for her. It was a load of crap. To make matters worse, she knew almost nothing about Oak Island. Ask her about Egypt, Mexico, South America, or any number of archeological hot spots, and she was practically an expert… but Oak freaking Island?

  Paul and her other brother, Edward, returned from a coffee run, bringing her a raspberry iced tea. She paused, the plastic cup cold in her hand, careful not to let the condensation drip on her computer keys, thinking about Sarah and her father. Sarah was one of the reasons she wanted to become an archeologist. Sure, her father was a powerful influence, but Sarah – Sarah was a vision of independence and strength. She traveled the world leading digs, and she was brilliant too. Breanne thought about the summers she got to work alongside Sarah when she would visit her father’s digs. She had learned so much from Sarah, and not just about archeology. They talked, really talked.

  Breanne was so disappointed when her father had blown it. She just didn’t understand why. She watched him now; he looked like he was going to be sick. Serves him right, she thought. He had left Sarah on a site in Egypt. Walked off and didn’t even tell her he was going.

  That he loved Sarah was plain, but something had held him back when he had the chance. She knew what it was, but her mother had been gone for over six years. A woman like Sarah wouldn’t wait forever. Since her mother passed, he had never shown interest in anyone else, only Sarah.

  As the conversation continued, she saw him relax. Soon enough, as they got onto the business of the site, his voice was eager and filled with enthusiasm. From what she gathered, Sarah would have her own team in place inside of a week.

  Breanne looked to her left and saw she wasn’t the only one watching. Paul and Edward were watching too; both nodded toward their father as they all shared a smile that needed no explanation.