Alpha Rising

by G. L. Douglas

  As the big ship lifted off, Bach enlarged an area of interest on the viewscreen. His devious smirk came at seeing Sapphira and her scheming posse of evildoers forging toward the ocean in terrain-runner vehicles.

  *****

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  From afar, Zarephath looked like a giant spinning top encircled by a multitude of halos. As Bach maneuvered the Ark through layers of ochre-colored particulates surrounding the planet, the view from the windows became obscured by the haze. His topography analysis showed twenty-three large and small volcanoes spread across the planet, and hilly terrain riddled with channels carved by a liquid. Additional data indicated a blanket of smoke, ash, and toxic pollutants.

  As the Arkmates neared touchdown and the view cleared, the ship passed over a canyon darkened by a column of smoke climbing from a large, smoldering volcano. Two lesser mounds nearby spewed fiery pitch and a rain of black ash.

  “Darn. We can’t use the co-op ships’ site,” Bach complained to Star. “It’s too close to an active volcano. But there’s a small valley close by that’ll work.”

  After landing, Bach turned on the filtration system to prevent smoke from entering the cabin when they opened the door, then he and Star disembarked wearing E-suits to protect against the pollution. Finding no signs of life where they landed, he walked ahead about fifty yards and scaled the spine of a thirty-foot-high, rocky ridge to see what lay beyond. In the foreground, numerous sandstone and limestone mounts and cliffs, with trails leading up and around them, stretched across the terrain, the nearest with a cluster of cave-like openings and passageways at its base. More than a dozen large mountains loomed miles in the distance.

  Then something flashed across his eyes, like the glint of the sun off metal. He squinted for a moment, then looked for the source. Nearby was a strange path inlaid with fragments of colored jewels that looked like they’d fallen from inside a kaleidoscope. As random volcanic flares illuminated the gemstones, colorful sparks danced across the terrain like those from a disco ball.

  Fascinated by what he saw, Bach inched down the back side of the ridge and headed to the mosaic trail. He squatted down and ran his hands over an array of transparent gemstones in colors of yellow, red, green, blue, and purple, and others in opaque opalescent hues. Amazing! Someone purposely inlaid these stones as a picture. He followed the trail a few yards out. The inlaid image ended and the pathway became a footpath of hardened clay leading through larger limestone hills. Heading back to the ridge, he yelled to Star. “Star, come here! I found something awesome.”

  She climbed the ridge and worked her way down the far side to where Bach stood shaking his head in wonder. Neither spoke as they absorbed the sight of sparkling jewels inlaid in the pattern of a comet trailing a multicolored tail across a blue sky.

  Anxious to explore, he said, “The trail winds through a crevasse, but continues after the comet’s tail ends. Let’s see where it goes.” He closed the ship’s ramp with the remote control and the two set out along the gemstone-encrusted walkway.

  Beyond the mosaic image, the two came to a narrow opening between two rocky ledges. Star followed behind as Bach squeezed through. The passage opened into a large arena where dozens of flat boulders stood upright like billboards. Their smooth stone surfaces featured carved hieroglyphics and depictions of Jurassic-era animals. Bach could barely contain his excitement. My imagination’s on overtime. Is this a museum from the Paleolithic era? He wandered closer to the boulders and touched the etched designs, whispering questions in his mind that he wished he could answer. Are they from the past? Or is this the present?

  He recalled his college research on Neanderthal man. “I studied ancient art like this when I was in school,” he told Star. “These pictures are communication—family history, possessions, warnings, even spiritual beliefs.”

  She ran her hand across a stick figure standing on a mountain with outstretched arms. “I have an overpowering feeling that this is a place of reverence.”

  Bach nodded. “Yes, I feel a spiritual connection.”

  The two moved among more limestone boulders and came to a Y-shaped divide. Bach pointed to the right. “I’ll check this way first.” He passed through a winding, three-foot-wide pathway when the rocks separated again. But ahead were only more crevasses and rocky ledges. He went back and reported, “No signs of civilization that way. Let’s try the left trail.”

  They walked the trail for a short distance, then the crevasse opened into a high plain where fifty or more miniature volcanoes, the largest the size of a compact car, the smallest like a molehill, rose from the blackened soil. A few feet away, a dozen cavemen in loincloths squatted in a circle. Oblivious to Bach and Star’s presence, the ancient men seemed poised as cats ready to pounce on a basketball-sized mound emitting a confetti-like spray of ash.

  The Arkmates moved closer.

  As if on schedule, the small mound erupted with a bang, sending a burst of smoke ten feet high and enveloping the ancient cadre in a thick cover of dust. The men sprang to life with yelps of joy. But their excitement soon turned to shouting and shoving as they jockeyed for a prime spot above the steaming mound to ensure maximum smoke inhalation.

  “I can’t believe my eyes,” Star said. “Fighting to inhale smoke?”

  “It’s called smoking, but it’s most often done with, uh, little tobacco-filled paper cylinders….”

  Star shivered. “Why would anyone choose to concentrate smoke in their lungs?”

  Bach shrugged and shook his head at the same time. “They find it pleasurable.”

  “Pleasurable? Look at the smoke coming from their mouths and noses. I’m glad we have the headgear. The smell must be awful.”

  “It has a stimulating effect for some,” he offered. “But it becomes addictive and it’s toxic, and it shortens their lives. The log said that women are more susceptible to the smoke’s adverse effects. I figured it meant the atmospheric smoke. Anyway, there are few women left.”

  They focused on the cavemen in hopes of seeing a symbol, but the men wore nothing but unadorned loincloths. As soon as the smoke from the small volcano dissipated, the ancients jumped up, squawking and grumbling, and ran to a two-foot-high mound near Star and Bach. Within seconds, the tiny volcano erupted, and the men pushed and shoved to reach the new source of smoke.

  Bach said, “I read that in the past, the smaller volcanoes were used for glassmaking and mineral refining for the co-op. But glassmaking and ore processing are rare now. Zarephath’s men spend their time in combat for the smoke.”

  “What can we do? If the eruptions continue, we’ll never get close to them.”

  “Let’s move on and see what else we can find.”

  The ancients paid no attention as the Arkmates headed across the clearing to a mountainous area. The two were halfway around the first mountain’s base when Bach stopped short and held Star back. Just yards ahead, an enormous pterodactyl lay writhing on its side on the ground.

  Star moved closer behind Bach and watched as the bird struggled to lift one huge wing as if flapping a last goodbye. “How sad.”

  “Sad and unbelievable at the same time,” he said. “Like stepping back to when time began.”

  The bird let out a low cry.

  “I can’t watch any longer,” she said. “We have to find the symbol.”

  “I saw an outlying mountain with passageways and caves from the top of that ridge in front of where we landed,” Bach said. “We should be close to that area now. Let’s climb this mount and have a look from the top … find those caves.”

  The rock climb was precarious right from the start, but was made more difficult by fallen tree branches and slippery, decaying leaves. The two eventually reached a trail of large limestone slabs stacked one on top of another, like a motionless escalator. After climbing dozens of steps, as they neared the summit on aching legs, Bach delivered a mournful song, “Oh, I wish I were a mountain goat, so I could reach the top.” As if in response to his lament
, an inhuman bellow rang out. The sound hung in the air and echoed from cliff to cliff. He looked back down. “Whoa. I wonder what that was. I don’t see anything below. Let’s get to the top so we can see all around.”

  On a plateau at the summit they found the source of the desperate cry—a felled brontosaurus lying on its side gasping for breath. The mighty beast’s nostrils flared as it strained to lift its huge head, which rose a little, then flopped back on the ground.

  Star stepped back as Bach crept forward. The brontosaurus’s amber eye followed his every move. Bach crouched close to the primeval creature and inched his hand toward the beast’s head. “I’m so sorry, buddy.” He patted its neck. “I’d love to give you back your life, to see you roam and eat your vegetables. It’s just too late.”

  The dinosaur went still at the touch of never-before-felt human kindness. Then its breathing tapered off, its huge eyes rolled closed, and its suffering body sagged and went motionless. Haaarraaggh! A final blast of air spurted from its nose. Bach waited for a moment, then reverently stroked the dead beast’s head. “Must have starved.” He looked at Star with a lump in his throat, then released frustration in a long breath before he spoke. “The animals here are huge. We’ll never be able to capture them, much less board them.”

  “Let’s find the chosen ones. There are many questions in need of answers,” she replied.

  Bach checked the far side of the mountain beyond the brontosaurus’s carcass. “Good news,” he yelled to Star, “a stair-like formation cut into the rocks leads to the caves I saw.”

  As the two neared the bottom of the mount, an ancient-looking woman ran shrieking from a nearby cave. Dozens of cave dwellers poured from their caverns, and the area swarmed with panicked people. Three primitive men raced to an alcove and pounded circular metal gongs with huge clubs.

  “Oh, no,” Bach said, “they’re afraid of us.”

  In the midst of the alarm, an explosive flash lit up the sky miles beyond the caves to the right, and waves of heat rocked the air as a large volcano unleashed its fury, spewing flame and rock five miles high. Before their eyes, a blistering avalanche of boiling rain and brimstone rocketed down the fuming mount’s slope like an electric-red cake frosting.

  With the volcano’s mighty power reverberating through his body, Bach’s mind clicked off the distance between the oncoming flow and safety. He took Star’s hand and hurriedly led her to one of the larger caves. It seemed empty, but he moved deeper inside to be sure.

  In the semi-dark cavern, Star noticed a four-foot-high opening on one side that led to an adjoining chamber. She bent down and yelled into the darkness, “Hello, is anyone here?”

  No reply.

  Bach crouched down and felt his way into the room. He returned minutes later. “I couldn’t see, and couldn’t find much by touch.”

  Star motioned him back to the entranceway. She couldn’t take her eyes off of the sight of mountains, sky, and caves illuminated in orange and red light from the blinding magma flow. “It’s terrifying and somehow beautiful at the same time,” she said, holding back fear. As the scorching crimson tide thundered down the volcano’s side, the clay floor shuddered beneath their feet. Star looked at Bach. “What if it comes this far?”

  “Don’t think about that right now.” He turned her around. “Let’s go deeper inside where it’s cooler.” He led her to the adjoining chamber. On the chance cave dwellers were inside but too frightened to show themselves, Bach yelled again as they stepped into the room. “Anybody here?”

  No answer.

  As amber light from the perdition beyond flickered through fractures in the walls, the chamber slowly grew warmer and brighter. When Bach’s eyes adjusted to the eerie glow, he thought he was seeing things. Sparkling amethyst gemstones covered the walls. “Oh, my gosh,” he whispered, “We’re inside a giant geode.” Exploring deeper, he found a well-worn upright crevice that led into a narrow third room where an inch-high flame burning in a small pit of rocks cast just enough light for him to look around. A large box-like table with a heavy rectangular slab on top occupied most of the floor space in the room. He touched it. Why would anyone need this large table in such a narrow room? Looking around, he found the walls etched and painted with petroglyphs and rebuses, and the ceiling painted with Paleolithic art that made the room look like a prehistoric Sistine Chapel. I don’t believe this. “Star!” he yelled, “come here and look at this.”

  She stepped through the crevice, and he excitedly pointed to rows of lines and dots drawn on the wall. “Look! This is similar to an ogham alphabet—various dots for vowels and differing lines for consonants. Much like modern-day bar codes on Earth, but it’s an alphabet.”

  She ran her hand across the design. “This is fascinating. But I can’t concentrate right now. Let’s go back to the other room and keep watch. I’m worried about how we’ll search with this volcano bearing down.”

  The two looked from the cave’s entranceway into the desolate area beyond where a red-hot river of molten rock surged down the mountainside, coating everything in its path with a glowing orange crust. But what seemed the end of all life suddenly took a surprising turn when, through stifling hot air reeking of death, a woman ran past the cave chasing after a black furry blur, frantically trying to catch it with a net of twigs. She’d almost snared the tiny animal when it withdrew its inch-long legs, curled into a ball, and rolled in circles in front of the caves.

  “Phroo! Phroo!” the cavewoman shouted. “Stop, little phroo, don’t die!” As heat exhaustion weakened the woman, she dropped to the ground and crawled on hands and knees after the squealing phroo. With a wild scoop of her net she snared the elusive critter, then staggered into the cave with the writhing phroo clutched to her chest. Star and Bach were at the entrance.

  Heart pounding, the woman gasped. “You’re not Rooks….”

  Bach replied, “No, we’re from Dura.”

  The cavewoman held the noisy, black furball by the scruff of its neck and tried to calm it by stroking the circular patch of gray fluff on its stomach. “Have you seen the other phroo?” she asked, trying to catch her breath. The tiny rodent’s huge purple eyes peeked from behind a collar of unruly gray fur framing a face that looked like a baby cheetah’s.

  Star shook her head. “No, we haven’t.”

  Bach reached out to touch the little critter, but it pulled in its legs, tucked its head under, and rolled into a ball in the woman’s hands.

  “It’s a phroo?” Star asked.

  Still trying to catch her breath, the woman didn’t answer for a moment. “Yes. There’s a white one too, a male. I have to find him. They’re the last ones. They search underground for gemstones to line their burrows. We watch where they enter and exit. The jewels keep us in the evil one’s good graces.” Her voice intensified. “The phroos locate bountiful lodes after the lava cools—carbon crystals, beryl, quartz, jasper, and other minerals, which we cleave into objects of beauty to please the Specter and his Rooks.” The critter squirmed, so she closed both hands around it. “People became greedy—tried to tame the phroos so they would search just for them. But these little ones don’t live long in captivity, and now phroos are extinct, except for two.” She put the furball in a small cage made from twigs. “Their underground searches often set off minor eruptions, which cause the smaller mounds to smoke. But those subterranean areas have weakened, and this major eruption is the tragic consequence.” Head shaking, she added, “These two are still young. Most of our animals have already died.”

  “What happened to them?” Star asked.

  “Over time, many of us refused to join the Specter’s army. He vented his anger by using our volcanoes as his dumpsite. He flaunts his power by coming back and discarding toxic waste. It aggravates the volcanoes, and chemicals spew like lethal rain. We’ve been safe in our caves, but everything outside has slowly withered and died, and so did the animals. Much of our water is contaminated. The poisons have taken a toll.”

  Star
shook her head. “I’m so sorry to hear of the evil he’s done.” She looked at Bach. “That explains the oil splotches that hit the ship when we tried to reach Zarephath a few days ago, and the rings around the planet.”

  “All the animals are dead?” Bach asked.

  “Yes, the adults. But I have some of their babies—trying to keep them alive.”

  “You have baby animals?”

  “Those I could rescue, but many are lost forever. I have eggs of the largest. They’re a long time in hatching, so Ptero constructed a safe nesting place for them.”

  “Is Ptero your mate?” he asked. “Where is he?”

  The woman pointed outside. “He’ll be here. He knows the dangers of Zarephath.”

  The three huddled in the arched doorway, straining to see through air heavy with embers and smoke. A staggering figure approached from the distance, struggling under the weight of two metal buckets suspended from a pole across his shoulders. At his back, the three-mile-long ruby river incinerated everything from the largest tree to the smallest unseen organism.

  Bach rushed into the ash and smoke yelling to the man, “Hold on!” He carried one bucket, and the man carried the other.

  As soon as they reached the cave, Bach moved everyone into the amethyst chamber, away from the acrid smell and visual horror approaching just hundreds of yards away. He couldn’t help but notice a pouch hanging from Ptero’s shoulder with something moving inside. Yet he was more interested in the two metal buckets—out of place in such a prehistoric setting.

  Noting Bach’s stare, the cavewoman slid one of the buckets toward his feet and pointed inside. “Food for the baby animals. Ptero cooked the fruits and vegetables we had left after the last co-op exchange.”

  Bach examined the contents of the bucket. A four-partitioned divider that looked like the symbol separated the different foods. “Uh … uh,” he stammered, realizing he didn’t know the woman’s name. “Your name?”