God Stones: Books 1 - 3

by Otto Schafer

  Garrett sighed. Jack was a problem that would have to wait. “Listen, man, just please get it all transferred tonight. I have a bad feeling, don’t ask me why, I just do… I really need you to get this done, Pete.”

  “Okay, already, I’ll get it done. Don’t you even want to know what I found in the other part?” Pete asked.

  In all the craziness, he had forgotten to even ask about the progress with the first half. “What! You finished it? Of course I want to know!” Garrett said, giving his friend a shove. Pete staggered sideways before quickly regaining his balance.

  “Alright, listen,” he said. “Without going word for word, Lincoln basically says we have to get inside, and once we are in, it’s basically a natural cave system that leads south about a mile or mile and a half. Then, according to old honest Abe, we should reach the temple entrance. If my calculations are right, though, we are going to end up near New Salem and pass in front of, or somehow under, Lake Petersburg!”

  Garrett shook his head. “So, this temple? You think it could be under Lake Petersburg?”

  “I think so, and it kind of makes you wonder when the lake was created if someone was trying to make sure the temple was never found.”

  The boys were standing in the alley now, at the point where they needed to go their separate ways. “What did he say about traps?” Garrett asked.

  “Well, most of it was undecipherable old stains and smudges. I made out one part that talked about a hidden spiked pit, and then a part about animal traps, but that’s it.”

  “Any idea how we’re supposed to get past them?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Will you be at the library after school tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, Janis and I are meeting there. I want to do some research on Lake Petersburg. I know it’s man-made, and if the temple really is under it, that seems like a pretty big coincidence.”

  “Well, good for you, man. It’s about time,” Garrett said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Pete asked.

  “You and Janis. Just happy for you, buddy.”

  Pete smiled shyly, face flushed.

  “Look, Pete, I know I sound crazy but something more is going on and, I don’t know, I feel like this whole thing is coming to a head. Can you please see what you can get figured out? Lenny and I will try and swing by after we test, but it will have to be fast.”

  Pete frowned, not understanding. An expectant moment passed, and when Garrett didn’t respond his friend simply nodded. “Okay, I will transfer this tonight and see you at the library tomorrow then.”

  “Hey, you want me to walk you home in case Jack jumps you on the way? I would hate to lose this thing after all the work we put into getting it.” Garrett motioned at the journal.

  “No need – Jack doesn’t know about this half, and he thinks you have the other half. Besides, after today he’s saving it all up for you – I’ll be fine,” Pete said, grinning again.

  “Later, Pete.”

  “Later.”

  The boys parted, each going their separate ways. Neither knew, nor could know, their world was about to change forever.

  Garrett arrived home to find his mom just starting the prep work for dinner and his father taking a nap. He found his brother working on a puzzle in his room and decided to poke his head in. “Hey, James?”

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I want to cut my hair. Can you help me?”

  “Why don’t you ask Dad? He was the barber, not me,” he said, snapping a puzzle piece into the border.

  That was true – once upon a time his father had been a barber in the military. This was almost assuredly where he obtained his beloved razor strap. “No way! Two reasons that isn’t going to happen. First, I will end up with a crew cut or flattop – not happening! Second, he’s been telling me to cut my hair for years, and there’s not a chance I’m giving him the satisfaction of being the one to cut it.”

  His brother looked up and to Garrett’s surprise… he grinned.

  Garrett took the grin as permission to enter his brother’s room whether it was meant to be or not. He moved from the doorway toward the folding table his brother sat at working on the puzzle.

  “Why do you want to cut it anyway?” James asked.

  “I don’t know. I can’t really explain it. I just feel like… like something’s coming. Change, I guess,” he said.

  James nodded. “And you want me to do it? You realize I can’t style your hair, right?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “So, what do you have in mind?”

  “Well, I thought about just cutting it short and leaving the bangs longer so they hang in my eyes… just to piss off Dad,” he said with a smirk.

  “Ha, I would love to be there when he sees you’ve cut the parts he doesn’t even care about and left the only part that sets him off, but like I said, I can’t style your hair.”

  “Right, so just cut it all off… I mean I don’t want to look like a monk, but cut it short, really short – short enough no one could grab ahold of it,” Garrett said.

  James stared at his little brother for a moment. Garrett waited for the questions but none came. Finally, his brother just nodded. “Alright then.”

  A few minutes later Garrett stood in front of the bathroom mirror and James stood behind him, a pair of scissors in his hand. “You’re sure?” he asked.

  “Yeah, do it,” Garrett said decisively.

  James went to work hacking long locks of hair chunk by chunk from Garrett’s head. His hair hung down to the middle of his back, but James showed no hesitation in shearing off what had taken years to grow. Once he had removed the hair down to a manageable length, he went to the bathroom cupboard and removed his father’s clippers, put on a number-one guard, and buzzed Garrett’s head.

  Once finished James removed the guard and lined up his neck, then stood back to admire his work. “Well, no one will be grabbing you by the hair now,” he said approvingly.

  Garrett almost didn’t recognize himself. He looked older somehow, and his remaining hair was a sandy brown, a major change from the sun-bleached blond locks now filling the bottom of the sink.

  “Thanks, James,” he said, rubbing a hand over his head, realizing this was the most time he had spent with his brother without them ripping on each other since, well, since he could remember.

  “See you at dinner,” James said.

  Garrett showered, dressed, and entered the kitchen, finding his seat at the table. When his parents noticed him enter, they froze in place and stared while James busied himself segregating his food, making sure none of it touched.

  “My God, Garrett, your hair… what have you done?” his mother asked.

  He just shrugged and sat down.

  Elaine darted her eyes to Phillip. “It’s about goddamn time,” he said approvingly.

  “You want me to go out back and time myself at fire-starting, or study primitive structure building? Oh, or I could work on my sword forms?” he asked. As the words slipped from his lips, he questioned himself as to why in the world he would want to do his training. He didn’t. What he wanted was for things to be normal. But things weren’t normal.

  Phillip lifted a glass of iced tea from the table and paused before taking a sip. “No, not tonight. Just feed and water the rabbits. Lenny will be here in a few minutes to spend the night. You should try and get plenty of rest. Tomorrow is test day.”

  Lenny gets to stay over again, no chores, no training. None of this made sense. Phillip didn’t make sense. Leaning across the table, Garrett stared at Phillip’s eyes. His eyes were familiar, yet stranger deeper in. Closer still he bent, squinting his eyes to peer in past the familiar, all the way to the hidden secrets.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Phillip asked, his tone unusually patient. “Why are you squinting at me like that?”

  Dinner passed without further conversation. Yet thick were the thoughts no one shared, each lost in their own. Each gathering
in their own enigmas, keeping them all shut up and covered, hidden from him. Garrett chewed slowly and deliberately, studying them as one might study strangers. For who were these people if not strangers with their secrets?

  Pete sat down at his desk and tried to open the journal, but instantly the page began to crack. He sighed, hating what he was about to do. Carefully, but quite easily, he pulled loose the binding and laid each page out on his desk one by one. Next, he went to work transcribing Lincoln’s entries the best he could. When he was done, he sat back in his chair, all the blood draining from his face.

  This can’t be real… It’s not possible!

  32

  The Birthplace of Fire

  Wednesday, April 6th, 9:00 a.m.

  Day One

  Oak Island, Nova Scotia

  As the pain subsided, a now familiar roar of flames and screams filled Breanne’s ears. When her eyes cleared and her surroundings came into focus, she fully expected to see the forest burning around her, but she did not. She was in a familiar city – New York, she thought. Breanne had never been to New York, but Times Square was familiar even to those who had never seen it in person. Only now, Times Square was on fire. Buildings were burning, steel structures were melting and twisting, concrete blazed as if made of wood, things that should not burn were consumed in flame. But worst of all, she could see the source of the screams, the people… oh, the people! The ones that were not burning were running, but they couldn’t get away, and as she watched, dozens, maybe hundreds, of people, whole crowds of people, burst into flames, falling to the ground, screaming in agony as they burned.

  Breanne wanted to look away, wanted so badly not to watch the horrible scene playing out before her, but it did not matter where she turned – the fire was everywhere, the burning bodies were everywhere, and even slamming her eyelids down tightly as she clutched her hands over her ears would not allow her to hide from the horror of the screams nor the smell of burning flesh. She didn’t need to pinch herself to know this was real. How could she be smelling something in her dreams she had never smelled in life… so sharp, so pungent? The stench made her want to vomit. Heat hit her in a wave that sucked the air out from her mouth, leaving her gasping, sweat-soaked. As she stood there in the middle of Times Square, she screamed and gasped, but she couldn’t hear herself over all the screaming people and roaring flames and she couldn’t catch her breath. She feared the fabric of her sanity was beginning to tear away when suddenly…

  The sound stopped, the air cooled, and the burning stench faded away.

  She opened her eyes, no longer able to hear the screams or the roaring flames. The Knight Templar stood in front of her, his white robe billowing as hot wind gusted across it. Though she no longer heard anything, she could still see the chaos as Times Square and all it held descended into fiery chaos. She tried to keep her focus on the Templar and not the burning people, some young, some old, and some children.

  Then he spoke. “Child.”

  She realized then she was sobbing and could only nod.

  He knelt down, placing his hand lightly on her shoulder. Breanne searched deep into his piercing, crystal-blue eyes and she could see goodness there, but it was overlaid with profound sorrow.

  “The Ark has been found – thus, the prophecy has begun. He has come to take the God Stones,” the Templar said, his sorrow deepening as he swept his hand across the fiery scene. “Soon all will burn.”

  Breanne’s mind reeled as she found her voice. “Is it… Satan?” she asked, immediately feeling the question was ridiculous, but then again, she was talking to a dead Templar in a nightmare of fire.

  “His name is Apep, and he will stop at nothing to see this world in ruins and humanity destroyed. Child, you must stop at nothing to get the God Stones… before it is too late,” he said, pointing at her. “You must go and find the boy named Garrett in the land of Lincoln.” He turned his attention towards a young man approaching from across the street.

  She didn’t understand how she knew it, but this was the shadowed figure from her last dream in the forest. The boy appeared to be around her age and was lean and muscular, with his hair clipped very short. She felt like she knew him, like she had always known him. He looked terrified as he ran towards her.

  She turned to look back at the Templar but he was walking away, towards the flames. “Wait, please! Don’t leave. Please tell me, who are you?”

  He turned back to her and smiled. “I’ve many names, child, but my last was Hugues.”

  “You’re Hugues de Payens, founder of the Knights Templar?”

  He nodded once, fixing her with his crystal eyes as they burned with dancing blue fire.

  She had done her research on the Knights and knew that Hugues was born in approximately 1070 ad and allegedly died in 1136 ad, but from her research she also knew that there were no records as to where the man came from. The circumstances surrounding his death were just as mysterious, as no records existed chronicling any details of his death. “What happened to you?” she asked.

  “Happened? Child, what was is and is will be. Death mortal begets life eternal.”

  Hugues turned away from her, paused, and turned back again. “You must leave your father’s side and find Garrett. He needs you now.” Then, motioning towards the approaching boy, the Templar said, “Heed these words, child. You can’t help your father without first helping Garrett.”

  Help my father? she thought, glancing back over her shoulder. She watched the boy as he stepped up onto the sidewalk and approached her, then she looked back to the Templar Knight. “Wait!” she shouted. But it was too late… he was gone.

  As the young man approached, she could see he must be around her age.

  “Do you know what’s happening?” he asked, the sound of the screams and flames increasing as if being controlled with the volume knob on a radio.

  The boy was obviously just as scared as she was and just as confused, maybe more.

  “I don’t know!” she shouted, having to strain to be heard. “He said I have to find you! You’re Garrett, right?”

  The boy’s eyes widened in surprise at the mention of his name.

  “Yes, but who said?” he asked.

  “Hugues,” she said, pointing in the direction the Templar had gone. “Didn’t you see him?”

  Garrett held out his hands and shook his head.

  “The Templar Knight! He was standing right here a second ago!” Breanne shouted, but the boy’s expression told her he had not seen the Templar.

  That god-awful noise, the smell of burning flesh, and now even the temperature were increasing, quickly becoming unbearable. Breanne tried to push down her rising nausea. “How am I supposed to find you, Garrett?” she managed.

  “I’m in Petersburg!” he shouted, stepping closer to her.

  The smells and sounds increased as the flames closed in around them. They could both feel the heat and neither knew what to do – there was no place to run.

  “What’s your name?” he yelled.

  “What?”

  “Your name! What’s your name?”

  “Breanne!” she shouted.

  The flames crept ever closer. The concrete sidewalk around them ignited, then it too burst into unnatural flames.

  “It’s burning me!” she screamed as the flames lapped at her back.

  Garrett grabbed her by her shoulders and spun her while pulling her to his chest. He moved his body to position himself between her and the flames, wrapping his arms around her. She buried her hands and face in his chest. Chunks of sidewalk exploded from the heat as bits of concrete popped into embers. The boy shielding her screamed in pain as he was showered with the burning cinders. Still he held her. Even as he burned, he held on, pulling her hard into him. Another explosion of sidewalk. He screamed again. Even with her ear pressed to his chest, she struggled to hear, didn’t want to hear.

  The flames continued to press in as both squeezed their eyes closed, clutching each other as tight as th
ey could. The roar became so loud it threatened to burst eardrums. The ground began to shake beneath them. Then they heard it. A piercing scream that cut through the roar of flames past their ears to penetrate deep into their very souls. The scream was inhuman. What followed the scream was fire, pure and absolute.

  In that instant Breanne learned the birthplace of fire.

  Just as Garrett’s back burst into flames, he shouted in her ear, “Find me, Breanne! Find me in Petersburg!”

  33

  That’s Going to Leave a Mark

  Wednesday, April 6th, 7:00 a.m.

  Day One

  Petersburg, Illinois

  “Breanne!” Garrett shouted, tearing free from the tangle of sheets coiled around him like a giant snake. Panting, he lurched upright to a sitting position. Both he and his bedding were soaked with sweat. As he moved, his entire body felt sore, as if he had just finished a twenty-mile run.

  Breanne? he thought, catching his breath as he tried to clear the morning fuzz from his mind. The nightmare had been so real. The flames – oh God, the fire… Everything was burning, the buildings, even the sidewalk burned. He recognized Times Square in New York as the place where he had watched the ball drop to mark the new year, at least the few times he could stay awake. In his nightmare, there had been no ball, only fire, and the only thing that wasn’t burning was the girl… Breanne.

  Garrett sat there in his bed for a long moment, afraid to get up, afraid he would lose the memory, as horrible as it was. He wanted to understand, and he knew this wasn’t the first time he had dreamt of the fire, but it was the first time it was so… clear, so real. He tried not to focus on the nightmarish surroundings or think about the smell of burning people. He tried to push away the roar and screams that still echoed his mind, tried not to think of the intense, burning pain he had felt on his back – still felt on his back – as he had taken Breanne into his arms and pulled her close to his chest. Instead he tried to focus on just the girl. She was beautiful – even scared, she was stunningly beautiful. He felt as though he knew her somehow. But it wasn’t as if he could have somehow forgotten her. She was black, and he could count on one hand the black kids he had met in his life, Lenny included. Yet he was sure he knew her, that this wasn’t the first time they had met. Have I dreamt of her before? She had spoken to him. What did she say?