The Hidden Code

by P. J. Hoover

  “Tell me one interesting thing about yourself,” I say.

  Ethan smiles. “One thing?”

  I nod.

  “Okay, I’m missing two permanent teeth.” He points to his mouth to show me. “On either side of my front two teeth.”

  “Hypodontia,” I say.

  “What?” Ethan says.

  “Hypodontia. It’s when permanent teeth are missing. Lots of times, though not always, it’s genetic.”

  “Do you have a genetics answer for everything?” he says.

  “Pretty much,” I say. “Everything about everything on Earth comes down to genetics.”

  “Hypodontia,” Ethan says. “It makes it sound like a disease.”

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “It’s not catching.”

  “I’m glad,” Ethan says. “That would make it embarrassing when I kissed someone.”

  Awkward silence fills the space.

  Ethan quickly says, “Okay, your turn. Tell me one interesting thing about you.”

  It’s horrible that my first reaction is to say something pathetic like, “Oh, I don’t know,” but I bite my tongue. Still, something about talking to Ethan makes my stomach feel all fluttery.

  “I’m scared of dinosaurs,” I say.

  Ethan busts out laughing.

  “Shhhh …”

  “You’re kidding,” Ethan says.

  I shake my head. “I’m not.”

  “But you do know that dinosaurs aren’t real, right?”

  “I know. But ever since seeing Jurassic Park when I was little, I’ve always been terrified of them.”

  “So the fearless Hannah Hawkins is not really fearless after all,” Ethan says.

  “Apparently not,” I say.

  “Well, fear not. I promise to protect you if we come across any dinosaurs on our adventure,” Ethan says, and he smiles.

  “Thanks,” I say, and I close my eyes to sleep, but it takes a while because I can’t stop thinking about how nice Ethan’s smile is even with the missing teeth.

  Everyone who lives in the micro-village is up with the sun in the morning, busy taking care of the animals, cooking, cleaning. They try to feed us breakfast before we go, but Tobin manages to convince them that we’re in too much of a hurry. That we can eat while we are traveling. Tobin offers them money, but they refuse, saying that they could never take money from family. Regardless, he manages to hide some money where they will find it to help cover the costs of what they’ve spent on us. Then ensues much kissing on the cheeks, and we’re back on the bumpy road.

  We arrive at the nearest civilized city to our destination late the next day, the city of Kars, Turkey. Our final destination, Ani, is another hour away, and it’s already getting dark, so Tobin finds us an obscure hotel, which rivals as one of the least hygienic places I’ve ever been. I can almost see the bacteria growing on the faucet. But the view is great; my window overlooks an ancient fortress, high on the plateau, towering over the city.

  We finally get the opportunity to fill Ethan and Tobin in on what’s happened.

  “This gives me a very bad feeling,” Tobin says.

  “Yeah, me too,” Uncle Randall says. “But Beril is safe. Nobody will know where we went.”

  A sudden horrible thought occurs to me. I whip around to face Ethan.

  “Turn off your cell phone,” I say.

  “What?”

  “Your cell phone. You need to turn it off.”

  Ethan looks at me like I’m crazy, then anger flashes on his face as he realizes what I’m saying.

  “Nobody is going to track my location,” Ethan says. “And just because my dad works at Amino Corp doesn’t mean he’s after the Code of Enoch.”

  I look to Uncle Randall. His mouth is set in a hard line. “If anyone was going to track it, they could have already done it.”

  “They’re not going to,” Ethan says.

  I don’t believe him, and I’m sure Uncle Randall doesn’t either. I also don’t see anything I can do about it. But I swear if the opportunity presents itself for me to grab Ethan’s phone and throw it over a cliff, I am so going to do it.

  Early the next morning, I’m up and showered. I can make it one day without a shower no problem, but two and my hair feels so gross that I can’t stand it.

  We pile back in the cars and drive the hour to Ani, which, unlike the city of Kars, is in ruins. Surrounding the ancient city are rock cliffs with caves cut deep into them. Sheep and goats wander in and out of the small caves, climbing high on the cliffs though they look like they’ll fall at any second. We stop at the edge of the city, and Tobin tells us how churches and tombs are built into these caves, into the cliffs themselves. He points to the highest point in the city, what he calls Citadel Hill, and tells us that is where he thinks we should begin our search. It’s a renowned archaeological site.

  Unlike the city of Kars, the roads here in Ani can’t even be called roads. They are nothing more than loose gravel that’s been packed down by foot traffic. I worry that if Deniz looks away from the wheel for one second, we’ll be over the side of a cliff and falling to our doom. But he keeps his hands solidly on the wheel, even as he continues to chit chat away until his words fall silent as the Citadel comes into view.

  “This can’t be the right place,” I say once we get out of the car.

  “And why is that?” Tobin says.

  I motion at the alleged Citadel. “Because this is nothing but a pile of ruins. I mean sure, you have a couple of blocks stacked up here and there, but there’s not even an inside for us to go in.”

  “The Kingdom of Anatolia fell many ages ago,” Tobin says. “That’s true. But what many don’t realize is that before Anatolia came along, there were other settlements here. Cities tend to build on cities, over and over again.”

  “So you’re saying that what we’re looking for is underneath the Citadel?” Ethan says.

  “That is exactly what I’m saying,” Tobin says. “A gate to an extinct world. It’s what I told Hannah’s parents. Ani has been a settlement for all of recorded history. It is here that your parents went and here that we must go.”

  Still I’m not convinced. “Yeah, but look around. This place has been excavated clean. Anything to find would have already been found.”

  “Only if people knew what to look for,” Tobin says. “Which we are going to assume they don’t since as of yet, we’ve not yet heard of anyone discovering what we’re looking for.”

  His logical responses make sense and help restore my optimism. We can find what no one else has because that’s what we’ll be looking for.

  We walk to the largest remaining pile of stones, what Tobin refers to as the Citadel gateway.

  “Gate,” I say, “like the symbol on the map.”

  “Exactly,” Tobin says. “Though this is the gateway for the Citadel, it is logical to believe that it served as the gateway for older structures built on this same site. See how it overlooks the entire city, providing an ideal vantage point.” He points to some of the base stones that look different from those that rest on top. “And you see the way these stones are cut? It’s classic masonry consistent with a Zoroastrian fire temple, which may have been on this site at one point.”

  I’ve heard of the Zoroastrian religion but never studied it. Zoroastrian fire temple sounds like something I’d definitely like to research more once this whole adventure is done.

  “I’ll head in first,” Uncle Randall says, pulling out his flashlight.

  I grab mine also and step up next to him. “I’m going with you.”

  The words aren’t even out of my mouth when Ethan interrupts me. “I’m going, too.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Uncle Randall says. “We don’t know what to expect inside.”

  “Which is exactly why I should go,” I say.

  Uncle Randall looks to Tobin for support, but Tobin shakes his head. “They’re right. You shouldn’t go in alone, Randall.”

  One look at m
e, and Uncle Randall knows that there is no way he is going ahead without me.

  “Take this,” Tobin says, and he hands the center piece of the Deluge Segment to Uncle Randall who passes it to me. I unclasp my bag and put it in, redoing the clasp so it doesn’t fall out. Then I hoist my bag over my shoulder, and we walk to the threshold.

  My light shines into the area above, revealing the remains of a fresco that once had been painted there. The colors are faded and chipped nearly to the point where I can’t make anything out, but one item in the middle of the fresco still peeks through.

  I take a couple pictures with the flash and then shine my light so Uncle Randall and Ethan can see it also. “Is that a boat?”

  “Where?” Uncle Randall says. He steps forward, placing his foot on the exact same threshold stones I just crossed, but the stones shift under his weight. He goes down, letting out a brief yell. The entire archway we’ve just passed under collapses. Uncle Randall is nowhere to be seen.

  “Uncle Randall!” I scream, but I’m yelling through a pile of stones. All I can hear are muffled shouts from the other side.

  “Uncle Randall!” I scream again and turn my phone on to call him. There’s no signal. Stupid cellular reception.

  “Come on. Come on. Come on,” I say, shaking the cell phone like somehow that will make it better.

  “It’s okay, Hannah,” Ethan says.

  “It’s not okay. He could be hurt. He could be trapped under the rocks.” I stick the cell phone back in my pocket and start grabbing at the rocks. “We have to get to him.”

  Ethan joins me, shifting the stones, but there are so many, and some of them are huge. After five minutes of trying to make the stones budge, I sink against the wall.

  “We can’t get to him this way,” Ethan says.

  “Then what do we do?” I ask. Uncle Randall could be hurt really badly. He could be dying. I have to get back to him to make sure he’s okay.

  Ethan’s light bounces back behind us, farther under the fresco of the boat. “Look. Do you see this?”

  “What?”

  He waves the flashlight round. “There’s a tunnel over here.”

  “Where?” I hadn’t seen a tunnel earlier.

  “Right here. Maybe it opened up when the rocks fell. Maybe there’s another way out.”

  There better be because otherwise, with all the rocks, Ethan and I are going to spend the next three days digging ourselves out of here.

  It kills me to head in the opposite direction, away from Uncle Randall, but I know it’s the only choice. We start toward the passageway, sloping downward. Small rocks and pebbles falls around us as we walk, as if maybe some sort of seismic activity is responsible for the cave-in that just happened. It’s pitch black, lit only by our flashlights, and I loop my arm around Ethan’s.

  “I didn’t know you felt that way,” he says.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” I say. “I just don’t want you to get lost.”

  “You think I’m going to get lost?” Ethan says.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “If you wanted to hold my hand, you could have just asked,” Ethan says.

  He’s so infuriating. Still, I keep hold of his arm.

  Ahead, our flashlights shine on what looks like two ancient columns, but between them is only blackness.

  “In there?” Ethan says.

  “It’s the only way to go,” I say, and we step inside.

  A chill passes through me, and my muscles tense. I’m sure for a moment that someone else is in here waiting. Watching. Biding their time after centuries alone in this place.

  “Hello,” I call, though it seems irrational.

  There’s no answer.

  “Hello,” I say again.

  “It feels weird, right?” Ethan whispers.

  “Yeah, really weird.”

  “Like someone’s watching,” he says.

  Knowing that he feels it, too, makes me feel the slightest bit less crazy.

  We’ve entered an underground room with rock walls and a ceiling held up by columns like the ones we’ve just passed through.

  I would never admit it, but Ethan’s presence makes everything better. It gives me hope that we’ll find a way out of here. A way back to Uncle Randall.

  “It’s dark,” he says, and we both shine our flashlights around the place.

  There are no seats, no statues, nothing. But overhead, like what we passed under when we entered, is another fresco. Unlike the one near the entrance, this one is still bright with color and virtually unchipped. It shows a giant boat with multiple entry planks and animals climbing aboard by the hundreds.

  “Look,” I say, pointing to the fresco with my light.

  Ethan’s eyes find the painting and widen. “That’s crazy. This room must be thousands of years old. There is no way, even without exposure to the elements, that the paint would be so well-preserved.”

  “It’s Noah’s Ark,” I say. “It has to be.”

  “Agreed,” Ethan says. “And if a painting of Noah’s Ark is here …”

  “… then we must be on the right path,” I finish, trying to control the excited flutters that run through my chest. This is really going to happen. We are going to find my parents.

  I take pictures of everything because I don’t know what we’re looking for. The fresco is huge, and I take my time, making sure to get high resolution of everything. There are frescos on the walls also, of a mountain with a boat resting on top. Of a green hill with a gaping hole that reminds me of a bottomless pit. There are planets and stars and the sun. There’s also a garden with luscious fruit hanging from trees. It’s like every story from Genesis, the first book in the Bible, has been recorded on these walls.

  “Did you see up ahead?” Ethan says, pulling his eyes away from the frescos.

  I want to keep studying them because the detail rivals Michelangelo and the Sistine Chapel. Lucas would die to be here right now. If only I had cell service, I could video call him.

  I look to where Ethan’s light shines. Far ahead, at what looks to be the end of the room, is an altar.

  “Altars were used for sacrifice,” Ethan says.

  “And prayer. We should check it out.” I know it will take more time, but we can’t miss out on this opportunity. Uncle Randall would tell me the same thing if he were here.

  “We should be careful,” Ethan says.

  “Just stick close,” I say, pulling Ethan along with me.

  “Do you see the markings on the walls?” Ethan says as we walk forward. “They’re the same kind of symbols as on the map pieces.”

  I stop for a moment and shine my light away from the altar, toward the walls. He’s right. The walls are covered in partial symbols just like on the pieces of the Deluge Segment.

  “Do you realize what this means?” I say. “We have to be in the right place.” It’s hard to control the excitement that’s building inside me. I can almost see my parents walking here eleven years ago, following the same path that we follow now.

  “Just slow down, Hannah,” Ethan says. “It’s not going anywhere, and you’re going to yank my arm out of its socket.”

  I take a deep breath and attempt to slow my steps. We’re almost to the altar. The shadows bounce around us, like hidden creatures playing in the dark. And when our lights reach behind the altar, three circular indentations are exposed on the wall.

  My breath catches. “They’re the same size as the pieces of the Deluge Segment,” I say, shining my light on the stone wall behind the altar.

  Ethan’s light joins my own. “You’re right. Like maybe the pieces used to be here.”

  “And were taken away,” I say. “And if the pieces used to be here, then maybe the starting point is here.”

  I’m breathing hard now, unable to control the hope that is building up inside me. But with the closed-in area and the darkness, it’s almost too much. My head starts to spin. I bend over and place my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.
>
  “Are you okay?” Ethan asks, squatting down so he’s at the same level as me.

  I breathe deep, trying to get as much oxygen as I can.

  “Just catching my breath,” I say.

  He holds onto my shoulders and looks me in the eye. “It’s okay, Hannah. Inhale and exhale.”

  I do what he says, focusing on deep slow breaths to fill my lungs. The world gradually stops spinning around me.

  “What’s up?” Ethan says, still holding my shoulders, which helps me feel rooted to the world.

  Another breath and then another. The world settles, and I raise myself up. “It’s just that we’re so close. My parents …”

  “We’ll find them,” he says. “But I can’t have you freaking out on me.”

  I nod and take another breath. “I won’t. I’m fine.”

  But inside me, there is no stopping the hope that now fills me. It bubbles to the surface, pushing away everything that I’ve lost in the past. I am going to bring them back from wherever they’ve gone.

  “I’m okay,” I say, more to convince myself than Ethan.

  “You sure?”

  I nod and focus once again on the world around me.

  We step up to the altar. It’s covered in symbols, and because I don’t know what’s important, I take pictures of everything.

  “Look, Hannah,” Ethan says, and he points to the exact center of the altar. In the center is a circular depression, only a few inches across.

  “It’s …,” I start to say.

  “I know,” Ethan says.

  With shaking fingers, I unclasp my bag and pull out the center piece of the Deluge Segment. I place it into the depression. It almost seems to click into place, and then it starts to sink down.

  Immediately light bursts from it. Light that has no explanation because there is no electricity around, but it shoots out and brings the already magnificent room to life. It’s almost like the sun has somehow slithered into this dark place and is being channeled through the artifact.

  “Wow,” is all I manage to say.

  Ethan is staring, too, but his mouth moves, almost like he’s thinking out loud.