Monica was holding Sam’s face in her hands, staring into her eyes. Sam nodded in response and slowly regained her grasp of the situation. “Yes, I’m fine.”
Using the motor on their boat, they were able to steer clear of the worst of the whitewater and finally arrived at a calmer point in the river. Their party had been reduced to five, now.
No one spoke for some time as the boat slowly glided forward, the only perceivable sound was the rhythmic whir of the engine. Finally, they rounded another bend in the river and an encampment came into view. From a distance, the village seemed like any other they might encounter on a trip to this region. Small thatched huts littered the shoreline. Expanses of dirt were interrupted with fire rings made from local stones. Sam saw several people milling about on shore. As they drew closer, she could see the faces of the tribe members more clearly, and she felt a mix of awe and surprise. Just as Francisco had said, they were diminutive in size, no more than four feet tall. Their heads were unusually large for the size of their bodies, and their eyes were too big for their faces. However, they also had full heads of hair and bronzed skin. Their appearance was striking. As the boat inched closer, Sam realized that the people waiting on the shoreline were wearing fine headdresses and were standing in a semi-circle; almost as if they were waiting for Sam and her team to arrive.
The boat ground its way onto the sandy beach, and the workers jumped out and pulled them farther onto the sand. Sam and her team barely had time to climb out of the boat before two of the tribe’s people came forward and began to address them.
Still reeling from the loss they had just suffered, Sam was momentarily taken aback. She glanced over at Monica, standing by her side, hoping for an explanation. Monica seemed to understand the dialect.
“He’s saying that this young man will be your guide to the temple your father was looking for.” Monica translated what the elder had said, and the young man knelt down in front of Sam.
“Please tell him to get up.”
Monica spoke to the young kneeling man, and he arose to his feet.
“How did they know we were coming?” Sam was confused by the turn of events, yet again.
The elder spoke to Monica at some length, gesticulating to the skies with his hands.
“He says the ancestors spoke to him in a dream. They told him that the daughter of the great protector was coming to look for him, and that he was in danger. The ancestors told him to provide this young man here, his son, as their guide and to tell her that she must hurry if she is to save her father from imminent danger.”
Sam shifted uncomfortably. “Ask him if I can see the tablets Francisco referred to—the ones from their ancestors. I need to see if there is anything that might help me find my father.”
Before Monica could respond, the elder spoke, again, explaining to Monica that they had prepared the tablets for Sam. Without warning, the elder turned and began walking toward the jungle. The group followed. As they walked up the beach, the jungle became dense with vines and trees. Only a narrow, winding walkway offered any relief from the overgrown vegetation. The group walked for what seemed like a mile, then, without warning, the jungle opened up and revealed its secrets. A large, cleared opening appeared with a city of stone sitting in its midst. Large stone structures rose out of the jungle floor, complete with stone walkways and irrigation channels. Sam froze in awe, her eyes surveying the scene in disbelief. The elder who had met them at the boat did not hesitate. He continued to walk at a brisk pace toward a large structure located in the center of the city. Hundreds of people milled about, living their daily lives right in front of the archaeologist.
How in the world hasn’t this city been seen by planes or satellites passing overhead? Sam wondered. The questions she had for the tribespeople were numerous, but there would be time for that later. She needed to find her dad.
The elder ascended the steps to the large temple with the University team right behind him. He led them through the entryway. Sam couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the artwork. Perfectly sculpted statues lined the walls, and beautiful frescos adorned the ceilings. She was like a kid in a candy store! So many questions, but no time to ask them. The elder strode with a purpose, straight to the tablet room. Perched high upon marble columns, looking like sentinels standing guard to some unknown treasure, were large stone tablets. At the very end of the row, the last column was broken, the top sheared off. The elder motioned to them as if inviting Sam to take a look. Sam walked up to the first tablet. There was strange writing on them that she had never seen before. Sam puzzled at the writing for a moment more and then remembered something. She had seen the writing before, but not in a textbook or library. She opened her backpack and removed her father’s notebook. Flipping through the pages, she scanned them for something familiar. It had to be here … yes! Most of the symbols on the tablet were in her father’s book, and he had deciphered them. She compared the symbols on the tablet with the translations in her father’s journal. Pieces of the inscription were clear, but she was unable to translate the tablets entirely.
“What do they say?” Monica asked in a small voice.
“The tablets tell the story of the ancient ancestors being visited by the Great One who came from the heavens. The Great One was taken to meet the king of the tribe who announced that his first daughter would marry him, and bring peace and prosperity to the people. I can’t quite make out this next part, but I think it says something about teaching the people skills they didn’t previously possess.” Sam paused, her eyes narrowing as she tried to decipher the ancient text. She tilted her head as if she was having a hard time grasping what she was reading.
“Well?”
“I’m not sure I’m translating this correctly, but I think it’s referring to an underground city named Vilcabamba and something important that’s located there.” Sam ran a finger over one symbol repeatedly. “I don’t think that can be what this means.”
“What does it say?”
Finally, after several seconds of pondering, Sam said, “There are still too many symbols that I don’t understand, but it seems to talk about a jungle city and its inhabitants. If I’m reading this correctly, that city is known as Paititi. Then it says something about the Great One returning to his resting place among the stars.”
Sam was stupefied by what she had read. She realized at once that she was standing in the middle of Paititi, but wondered what its connection was to Vilcabamba. Whatever it was, her father must have gone searching for it when he went missing. But how did he know where to find it? Sam searched the tablets again, scouring for any clue she might have missed, but there was nothing that explained the whereabouts of Vilcabamba. She then checked her father’s journal, but found nothing there, either. Then, like a bolt from the blue, she realized that to keep the location of the underground city hidden, the directions must have been passed down by word of mouth. She felt a heavy gaze upon her, and realized, for the first time since she had glanced at the tablets, that the elder was standing beside her. Was she imagining it, or did his face hide the faintest of grins?
They walked back into the entryway where the rest of the group waited. “So, what did you find?” Anselmo asked.
“I understand what my father was looking for and where he went. We need to leave, immediately. Monica, can you ask the elder how long it will take to get to the underground city?”
“Two days. Our guide told me right before you and the elder came out of the Tablet Room,” Monica replied.
It’s as if these people know what we’re going to ask even before we know to ask it, Sam thought. She had a strange feeling that there was more to this than she realized. She wondered if her dad already knew.
CHAPTER NINE
“How are you doing, buddy?” Phil asked his friend, who was obviously in pain.
“Been better.” Mike grimaced. “Do you think Dr. R has found anything yet?”
“He’ll come through, he always does.”
Mike no
dded. He had the utmost confidence in their mentor which was something he couldn’t say about most of the people in his life. Born and raised in one of the rougher sections of South Boston, or Southie, as the locals called it, Mike was used to having to rely on himself. Many of the kids he had grown up with were either dead or in jail, but not Mike. He was a smart neighborhood kid who understood that education was his ticket to a better life. When he met Dr. Randall as an undergraduate student, he had immediately liked him. The professor had been one of the first people to see something special in Mike and had taken Mike under his wing.
When the professor came to him that day at school with a crooked smile and offered Mike a stipend to be one of his paid assistants, Mike had jumped at the chance. He wasn’t sure about Dr. Randall’s other graduate assistant, though. Mike initially saw Phil as a spoiled, arrogant, rich kid who wore designer clothes, had the newest cell phone and drove a brand new Jeep Wrangler. In other words, as far as outward appearances were concerned, Phil was the exact opposite of Mike. Slowly though, the two had gotten to know each other and bonded over fieldwork with the professor. Eventually, Mike came to realize that Phil was simply a goofy, fun-loving guy who loved working for Dr. Randall as much as he did. Phil didn’t have a mean bone in his body, and the two eventually became best friends. In fact, Mike saw Phil as the brother he never had and, aside from Dr. Randall, there was no one in the world he trusted more.
A deafening blast broke the silence, its suddenness taking them both by surprise, as rock, dirt and light simultaneously washed over them. Men dressed in military garb rappelled the short distance to the floor of the cavern and began closing in on the two students, momentarily frozen in disbelief. . Upon realizing the eminent danger, Phil responded first, leaping to his feet, in an attempt to bravely protect his friend from the approaching menace. He was rewarded with the blunt force of a hardened rubber heel to the abdomen. He buckled over in pain, unable to catch his breath and stumbled backward against the rock wall.
The mercenary turned his attention to Mike, shining a bright beam of light directly into his light-sensitive eyes. Mike recoiled in pain, turning his head and holding up his left hand to block it from his face. This sudden, involuntary movement cost him dearly; however, as he jerked his broken leg to the side, causing the pain to radiate up his body. Mike rolled into a ball, cursing his broken leg. As he writhed in pain, he heard the sound of heavy military boots approaching him and felt the warm breath of a large figure hovering above. Without warning, a huge gloved hand lifted him from the floor by the collar of his shirt. The sudden straightening of his broken leg registered immediately in the pain center of his brain, and Mike howled in agony.
“Where is Dr. Randall?” a gruff voice asked angrily.
“I don’t know,” was all Mike could manage, his body screaming in pain. The large man set him back on the ground, lifted a heavy booted foot, and placed it squarely on the middle of now broken and protruding bone. It was all Mike could do not to lose consciousness from the pain.
“Where is Dr. Randall?” It was more of a growl than a question.
“He’s gone. We don’t know where he is. He left a few of hours ago, and we haven’t seen him since.” Phil was on his feet, but was still crouched over, hands on his knees, as he tried to regain his breath. “We fell through the floor and tried walking, but Mike couldn’t make it, so Dr. Randall left us some supplies and went looking for help. I swear that’s all we know.”
The solider walked over to Phil and pummeled the graduate student to the ground with the butt of his gun, Phil’s nose splattering to bits in the process. Phil lay on the ground unable to defend himself, wondering if he was about to die. Suddenly, another voice sounded from the darkness.
“What have they told you, Lieutenant?”
“Captain, they said that Dr. Randall left them a couple of hours ago searching for help.”
The Captain walked over to Phil and bent down over the cowering graduate student.
“Trust me, it could have been worse.” The Captain said, with a tinge of sadistic joy in his voice. He barked orders to his men to take the one with the broken leg back to their base camp, but he had other plans for Phil. “You’re coming with us,” he snarled. “And in case you get any ideas, I want you to know that all I have to do is give the order and the Lieutenant will finish the job he started before I got here.”
The Captain stood up to face the Lieutenant. “Contact Colonel Ackers and let him know we have the graduate assistants and are in pursuit of Randall,” he ordered.
“Yes sir, Captain Middleton!”
Granger grabbed Phil by the back of his collar and dragged him to his feet while two of the other men hauled Mike back into the upper chamber. Phil watched as his friend disappeared through the opening, wondering if he would ever see him again. A boot in the back interrupted his thoughts. Clearly his captors wanted him to walk in the direction that Dr. Randall had gone.
CHAPTER TEN
One by one they arrived. Some by air, others by boat. Their destination was the island of Tagomago, part of the Balearic Island’s chain of Spain. The small private island, located due east of the Spanish mainland, appeared on the surface to have all the trappings of a wealthy man’s paradise. Its steep cliff walls rising out of an azure colored sea were topped with lush green vegetation, creating a breathtaking view for travelers lucky enough to fly over the tiny Eden.
As with most undeveloped islands, a single road running northwest to southeast, connected the far-flung reaches of the isle with the main living area situated almost at the dead center of the tiny speck of land. A single harbor on the east side of the island served those arriving by sea, and a small, but meticulously maintained helicopter pad north of the main compound, allowed for the safe landing of the visitors arriving by air.
The island was home to Frances Dumond, the lead member of the Alliance, an unlikely group of wealthy captains of industry. The names of the members of this secretive cabal sounded like a Who’s Who list from the Forbes 500. Normally, fierce competitors, on this day, they gathered as willing partners on a venture unlike any other. Unlike typical board meetings taking place in the financial and industrial centers of the western world, this group gathered in the sprawling compound overlooking the Mediterranean Ocean to hear an update on their unusual partnership.
As the four arriving members and one guest took their seats at the oval shaped table, a man with tidy yellow hair and piercing blue eyes entered the room from a door concealed in an alcove in the side wall. He strode purposefully to an open spot near the center of one side of the great table, keenly aware that all eyes were upon him. Finally arriving, he took his time straightening his outfit before sitting.
“Nice of you to finally join us Dumond,” Johan Kristoph commented. The founder of Heimat Energie was the oldest member of the group and felt that he should be the leader (a fact he frequently reminded his junior partners).
“Good to see you, too, Kristoph,” Dumond replied.
The others present appeared entertained by the icy exchange between the two men.
“What’s the status of the project?” Margaret Seivers, CEO of Composite Materials Corporation, asked pleasantly, changing the subject.
“It appears Dr. Randall and his graduate students have disappeared into the ruins. Colonel Ackers reports he and his men are searching for them as we speak,” Dumond replied.
“You mean they lost them? How is that possible? Ackers is incompetent. We never should have trusted him with this assignment,” Kristoph complained.
“Patience Kristoph. Ackers has never let us down before,” Dumond said in a calm voice. “He also intercepted a phone call from Dr. Andrade to Randall’s daughter. It appears she has recently departed from the University with a small party to try and find her father.”
“How do you know this, Dumond?” asked Rheingold Gerhardt, Kristoph’s first lieutenant.
“I have eyes everywhere, my friends. In a game such as this, one canno
t afford to be outwitted by his adversaries. Information is the key to our success,” Dumond said.
“These eyes you mention, Mr. Dumond, where else, may I ask, do you have them?” Alfredo Reynoso, President of Comunicacion Nacional, inquired with a raised eyebrow.
“Gentleman, we need to concentrate on the task at hand,” Margaret Seivers interjected once again, trying to break the tension. “Let’s remember it was Mr. Dumond who approached us with this idea and he has always provided us with the services we require. I’m sure he will do so once again.”
Unsatisfied by Margaret’s reassurances, Jianyu Chang, the CEO of shipping giant Shanxi Shipping Lines, continued the direct line of questioning generating nods of agreement from others around the table. “Should we have any concerns about these latest developments?” Jianyu persisted. “Are we sure Randall hasn’t escaped and is in contact with the authorities?”
“We’ve poured a great deal of resources into this venture, and eventually, we will all need to show a return for our investment. I’m becoming concerned that your plan may not succeed,” Alfred Reynoso commented.
Trying to restore order to the meeting, Dumond spoke in a low, calm voice, “My friends, I would remind you that each of you entered into this arrangement willingly. Each of you rose to your current status by taking risks that others deemed as unacceptable. Furthermore, you are each poised to reap tremendous rewards once our project is complete.”
The room went quiet after Dumond delivered his message. Once again, he demonstrated why, in a group of highly successful people, he was chosen as their leader.
Dumond continued his lecture, “As Ms. Seivers pointed out, we have to stay focused on the objective at hand. Aside from a few academics, we are the only people who know about the discovery of Paititi and the ruins which might lead to Vilcabamba. Without hard proof of their existence, those who support the professor would never dare to come forward and claim he has evidence that a highly advanced civilization exits in the rainforest. Aside from this minor setback, we hold all of the cards. I feel confident that the professor, his colleagues and even his daughter are no match for Colonel Ackers and his men. Within a few days, we will possess the power source from the ruins and we will dispose of those who could come forward to expose our plans.”
The Vilcabamba Prophecy: A Nick Randall Novel Page 4