The Joshua Files - a complete box set: Books 1-5 of the young adult sci-fi adventure series plus techno-thriller prequel
Page 83
Please let me tell you what I’ve discovered.You are the only person I can tell.
A hug,
Ixchel
De: Ixchel
Para: MariposaJosh
Asunto: Re: reps? ripped? buff??
Ixchel,
OK, you got me. Now I’m really curious. . .
There is a way we can communicate secretly.
I’ve set up a room for us at this online 3D place. We can talk with avatars and put up pictures and videos and stuff. The room is locked – I’ll send you the password and all the details. Delete the email after reading, then meet me in the chat room. I’ll be online all evening, waiting.
Josh
MENINHA: Hello . . . J-MARIPOSA! Josh – you’re named after a butterfly?
J-MARIPOSA: It’s my apelido – my capoeira nickname. After my favourite move.
MENINHA: And I’m just “girl” . . . meninha is Portuguese for “girl”, am I right?
J-MARIPOSA: *grin* Sorry. Couldn’t think what you’d like. Ooh, how do you make your avatar scowl like that. . .?
MENINHA: I’ve never seen you dressed in white pyjama bottoms and no shirt. . .
J-MARIPOSA: They’re abada trousers. For capoeira.
MENINHA: Oh. Please give your avatar a shirt next time.
J-MARIPOSA: *sigh* There’s so much I have to teach you. . .
MENINHA: So – you have a favourite move?
J-MARIPOSA: Yep. Mariposa – the butterfly twist. It’s awesome.
MENINHA: We can talk freely here?
J-MARIPOSA: Talk away. What’s this big news?
MENINHA: OK. You remember the Adaptor? That weird object that Simon Madison stole, then we found it in the hands of the Sect of Huracan, in that strange chamber under the pyramid in Becan?
J-MARIPOSA: Course I remember. I was carrying the Adaptor around in my back pocket trying not to let it blow poison gas in your face most of the time . . . how could I forget it???
MENINHA: Sorry, Josh, it’s just that you said you’ve been trying not to think about what happened last time you were here.
J-MARIPOSA: Trying not to think about it . . . don’t see how I could ever forget. . .
MENINHA: Well, then you’ll remember that the Adaptor has an inscription. . .
J-MARIPOSA: The same inscription that appears at the beginning of the Ix Codex, the fifteen symbols. I remember. And. . .?
MENINHA: Well, they deciphered the Adaptor inscription.
J-MARIPOSA: Whoa!
MENINHA: The entire project has locked down. All of a sudden – top secret! One of the decipherment team is my teacher at the Tec.You know I’m learning ancient Sumerian, yes?
J-MARIPOSA: You said you might.
MENINHA: My teacher stopped being able to say ANYTHING about the project. No one is allowed to know what’s written in that inscription. Apart from the members of the ruling Executive.
J-MARIPOSA: I might have guessed Carlos Montoyo wouldn’t want to be left out.
MENINHA: You’re right. But this time – he isn’t in charge.
J-MARIPOSA: Then who is?
MENINHA: Lorena. The atanzahab, the matchmaker, you remember her? Our chief scientist.
J-MARIPOSA: They put a scientist in charge of this project? Why?
MENINHA: I have no clue.
J-MARIPOSA: Why are you so keen to tell me about this?
MENINHA: Because you want to fix the You Know What, don’t you?
J-MARIPOSA: You can call it the Bracelet of Itzamna here. No one here but us chickens.
MENINHA: What. . .?
J-MARIPOSA: It’s just a saying.
MENINHA: Here’s the thing. The Bracelet needs a replacement Crystal Key. . .
J-MARIPOSA: We don’t know that for sure.
MENINHA: Yes, but we know that some ancient technology uses the Key.
J-MARIPOSA: Yeah, yeah, how could I forget? The bit of the Ix Codex I gave away . . . with all those secret instructions about how to activate the Revival Chamber using the Adaptor and the Key. The Key can be a liquid . . . but works best in crystal form.
MENINHA: Nice of you to finally talk about the Ix Codex. All that secrecy about what you were allowed to say was getting kind of annoying.
J-MARIPOSA: Hmm. It’s only because I reckon you know more about what’s in the Ix Codex than me by now.
MENINHA: You may be right.
J-MARIPOSA: If only I’d always been as careful about the Ix Codex as I was with you. Thanks to me, the Sect of Huracan know how to make the Key. . .
MENINHA: You couldn’t have known that your friend Ollie was spying on you. Her and Simon Madison working together . . . she used your friendship against you. That’s why it’s called a betrayal. Not your fault, Josh.
J-MARIPOSA: Believe me, I still feel like an idiot. At least the Key they made didn’t work.
MENINHA: True. That was pretty funny, actually, when they tried to activate the Revival Chamber and it failed. Remember how those people from the Sect of Huracan, the Professor woman and Marius Martineau, started screaming at each other? And at Simon Madison too?
J-MARIPOSA: Didn’t seem all that funny to me. I remember we were pretty scared they’d find us hiding in the tunnels.
MENINHA: I guess we were.
J-MARIPOSA: So . . . any news of what the Revival Chamber actually does?
MENINHA: No clue, it’s all secret. Lorena had her team take over the chamber right away. They sealed the Sect’s secret entrance and created another, direct from Ek Naab.
J-MARIPOSA: When we were climbing Mount Orizaba, you told me you reckoned it might be a time-travel device.
MENINHA: Yeah. But now I’m not so sure. Your father – he seemed to use the Bracelet of Itzamna to transport from wherever he was to the volcano, didn’t he? So maybe the Revival Chamber does something completely different. Like, maybe it revives the dead?
J-MARIPOSA: Jeez. That would be cool! Do you think Lorena’s team has managed to activate it?
MENINHA: I don’t know! Like I say, TOP SECRET! They don’t tell someone like me.
J-MARIPOSA: OK, what about this inscription on the Adaptor? You need the Adaptor to activate the Revival Chamber, yeah? The Key goes into the Adaptor and makes it work in the Container . . . and that makes the Revival Chamber work . . . isn’t that how it goes?
MENINHA: I haven’t been able to find out what the inscription on the Adaptor says . . . but what I do know is that Lorena’s scientists – they’re talking about the Key. That’s the whisper, the rumour. The inscription tells them how to make the Key.
J-MARIPOSA: Those fifteen symbols on the Adaptor – they tell you how to make the Key?
MENINHA: Correct. They’re trying to make the crystal version – the Crystal Key. The ancient instructions in the Ix Codex say that the Crystal Key is the most stable form.
J-MARIPOSA: Make a crystal . . . like with a chemistry set?
MENINHA: I guess. . . Lorena is a scientist.
J-MARIPOSA: So those fifteen symbols are like . . . a chemical formula for the crystal?
MENINHA: That’s what I think. But I haven’t been able to see the deciphered text.
J-MARIPOSA: If it’s chemistry, we’re out of luck. I wouldn’t know where to start with making a crystal.
MENINHA: Yes, the same with me. But here in Ek Naab, they are confident. They’re going to have the Crystal Key here in a few weeks. A month at the most.
J-MARIPOSA: Are you sure?
MENINHA: I read some emails of Lorena’s. Over her shoulder, actually – she didn’t realize. It was just a short message to Montoyo. He asked When will it be ready for a test? And her reply was Maybe a month.
J-MARIPOSA: But when we were in the caves, I heard that Professor woman from the Sect say that you had to make the Crystal Key at zero gravity.
MENINHA: Yes, I remember that. But maybe zero gravity is n
ot a problem for Ek Naab. They could take a Muwan up into space.
J-MARIPOSA: Hmmmmm. If I could get my hands on that crystal . . . even for a bit. Just to try it in the Bracelet.
MENINHA: YES! Just what I was thinking.
J-MARIPOSA: I need to find an excuse to go back to Ek Naab.
MENINHA: EXACTLY.
J-MARIPOSA: But what?
MENINHA: It could be me.
J-MARIPOSA: You?
MENINHA: Yes, your excuse for coming back to Ek Naab. Say you want to see me again.
J-MARIPOSA: *blush*
MENINHA: Say that you miss me. Montoyo and Lorena – they’re so keen for us to like each other, since they tried so hard to arrange our marriage. They’ll fall for it.
J-MARIPOSA: Okayyyy. . .
MENINHA: You and me, we’ll know the truth.
J-MARIPOSA: Well, if you’re sure. I’ll tell Benicio. And he’ll tell Montoyo.
MENINHA: Mmmm . . .maybe you should ask Montoyo directly. Don’t involve Benicio.
J-MARIPOSA: Why not? He seems to like talking about you.
MENINHA: I’d prefer you and Benicio don’t have that conversation. Later he might find out we weren’t telling the truth. Then he won’t trust us.
J-MARIPOSA: I guess.
MENINHA: Good. OK. Well, I’ll drop by this room again in a few days.
J-MARIPOSA:We can leave messages for each other on the wall. THIS wall!
MENINHA: Goodbye, then.
J-MARIPOSA: Later.
MENINHA: What later?
J-MARIPOSA: I mean SEE YOU later.
MENINHA: Oh! OK . . . later!
Long minutes after Ixchel’s avatar disappears in a puff of animated smoke, I still can’t tear my eyes away from the screen. I can’t seem to move from my chair.
Why did I choose the screen names “J-MARIPOSA” and “MENINHA”? Why do I try to be funny around Ixchel? I could kick myself – I don’t seem to make her laugh. It’s a good thing that the 3D chat room doesn’t keep a log of our conversation because if I could, I’d read it over and over. Just to check how much of an idiot I made of myself.
I’m so distracted, it doesn’t even occur to me – for well over an hour – to think seriously about what Ixchel is suggesting.
It’s everything I’ve tried so hard to avoid. The mysteries of Ek Naab and 2012. The Bracelet of Itzamna.
Three months of struggling with the urge to bury that bracelet in the rubbish bin. Or to chuck it into the River Cherwell on a rainy day.
Three months of trying to forget about travelling back in time, to forget about fixing what happened to my dad.
Persuading myself to let things fall – wherever.
Then Ixchel sends me some messages about an inscription, and something creeps back, something I thought I’d banished.
Hope.
Since I got back from Mexico, Mum’s treating me completely differently. It’s as though she’s heaved a big sigh of relief that her kid has finally grown up and she doesn’t need to take care of him any more. He can take care of her.
You’d think a guy would be happy about it, and at first I was. Not any more. I don’t mind putting up shelves and making furniture from IKEA, but I don’t want to listen to Mum talk about how lonely she feels, how she misses my dad.
I feel pretty rubbish about it too. After all, I was there when he died. He died saving me – not something I’ll ever, ever be able to put out of my mind.
Mum asks me to buy her cigarettes at the shop. I can’t believe it – she’s actually forgotten my age.
“You’re almost sixteen,” she says.
“I’m not even fifteen until summer!”
She frowns, exactly as if she’d forgotten where she put her keys. “Really?”
“Anyway you have to be eighteen,” I tell her, annoyed.
I go to the shop all the same and buy her a paper, a bottle of Perrier and a cream cake. When I return Mum takes one look at the headline and remarks, “Melissa DiCanio – your father knew her.”
It takes me a few seconds to focus on what Mum is saying. There’s a story in the Oxford newspaper about a scientist who’s been found dead in Qatar, a country in the Middle East. While Mum talks, trying to remember how Dad had known the woman, whether Mum had met DiCanio at this college dinner or that one, I read the story.
Right away, something leaps out at me: one has been arrested – Simon Madison, who is also wanted by the FBI and CIA as a suspected terrorist.
Simon Madison. Somehow he survived the avalanche that he started on Mount Orizaba, the avalanche that led to my father’s death. Just as I’m feeling a surge of disappointment that Madison didn’t get what was coming to him, I read the next bit.
Authorities intend to bring Madison to the United States of America. It is believed he will be charged with a number of offences.
So that’s it, then. Madison has been caught. Too bad for DiCanio, that scientist he seems to have murdered. For her, it’s too late.
Madison is not often out of my thoughts. How can I forget him? He’s bound up in my single most painful memory – the memory of my dad’s death.
That day, the whole day, is the last thing I think about at night and the first thing I think about in the morning. It’s in the back of my mind most of the time too, but night and morning are when it comes right to the surface. As soon as the thoughts start, I work at pushing them away. I visualize capoeira moves. I plug in some headphones and listen to music or a funny podcast. I get to sleep and everything goes blank. No more dreams.
Ground zero – blank.
For the first time in many weeks, I open the drawer with the Bracelet of Itzamna and gaze at it. Then I touch it, lightly. That ancient Erinsi technology. There’s a really distinctive feel to those surfaces. I remember the same from the Adaptor and the cover on the Ix Codex. Like stroking a sheet of magnetized iron filings.
I put the Bracelet on my wrist, feel the familiar buzz of energy, so tiny that you could miss it if you weren’t prepared. The hairs on my arms prickle and a shiver runs up my spine. But it’s not me reacting to the Bracelet – it’s the Bracelet reacting to me.
Those first few weeks after the avalanche that killed my dad . . . if I could have fixed the Bracelet, I would have. No question. I’d have gone back in time and done whatever it took to make sure he didn’t end up on that volcano.
But then . . . then I had a bit of a think.
Everything I’ve done so far has been rushed. I get an idea into my head and I just go and do it. Find out what happened to my dad, go to Mexico, find the Ix Codex, break into J Eric Thompson’s house, take on Simon Madison, follow some mysterious message in a bunch of coded postcards . . . climb a volcano and risk my life. . .
All in the name of some bizarre, prophetic letter from Arcadio Garcia – a weirdo who claims to know my future.
No planning. Just reacting.
Where has it got me?
My dad is dead. That’s all I can see.
Any way you look at it, I’ve messed up. The only good thing I did was to find the Ix Codex. Everything else. . .?
You can talk about “destiny”, the way Arcadio did in that letter. Yep, you can do that, and accept things, the way Montoyo said.
I don’t buy it.
There has to have been a better way.
I have the Bracelet of Itzamna. A chance to travel in time. To put the clock back, to change the past: a way to fix everything. There’s no way I can afford to screw this up.
The Bracelet is broken. It can’t travel in time, because the crystal burned out. The Crystal Key might fix the Bracelet. It isn’t just another lost relic waiting to be found.
The Crystal Key can be made.
I’ve been waiting for some news like this, some ray of hope. Didn’t even dare to think it would happen so soon.
Problem is, it’s too soon. This is make-or-break.
And I’m not ready.
Message Posted on the Wall of J-MARIPOSA’s Place: GET REA
DY . . .