by Tom Hunter
Without knocking, Miss Welker opened his door, and stepped inside, “You rang?”
Noah smiled, excited as a schoolboy, and eager to see what his new toys could do, and answered, “Yes, I’ve learned a few things in my studies so far.”
She sighed and nodded impatiently for him to go on. He barely noticed the insubordination and let it pass. What he was about to tell her was bigger than his insecurities.
“There is a drum,” he began, and at her questioning look, held up a hand and finished, “that can control the creatures we saw in the caves. They are called Kisgar, he explained, pronouncing the word “keese-gar”.
Miss Welker arched one eyebrow as Noah spoke. This was certainly news. He has been hard at work. She was about to open her mouth and ask what he wanted her to do, but he answered before she could ask.
“I want that drum. I want to put it to the test.” He took a breath and exhaled heavily, “Can you imagine,” he went on, “what the possibilities would be if, a) we have discovered a new species, and b) we could easily capture and sell them?”
“And who would you sell them to?” asked Miss Welker, ever practical. She had an idea what he’d say, but she wanted him to spell it out for her.
“Why, the possibilities are endless,” Noah began, then clarified, “to anyone who would buy them. Hunters looking for a challenge, collectors of exotic species, construction and real estate developers. On the darker end, the potential is even greater!” He exclaimed, thrusting his arms wide, in an uncharacteristic gesture of ecstasy.
“And if this thing doesn’t do what you want it to do? Then what?” she challenged.
“Then, I’ll sell the drum. It is an artifact after all, and still worthy of a hefty price. Regardless, I’ll be able to recoup the cost of this endeavor.” Then, leveling his gaze at her, he finished, “Which brings me to the job I have for you.”
Miss Welker arched her eyebrows and tapped her foot, waiting for him to tell her the job.
He smiled at her impatience. But, she had to know her place, and he did not answer straightaway. He let the question hang in the air, just a tinier bit longer.
“Go find the drum Thomas Knight and his team have uncovered. Infiltrate his camp, and see if you can’t find a way to, ah, spirit the relic here.”
At the door, Miss Welker stopped, her hand pressing against the aluminum frame.
“Is there something else, Miss Welker?” she heard him ask.
She looked back at him over her shoulder and said in a low voice, “I’m not the worrying type, but you’ve been at that”—she nodded to the journal—“night and day. Coffee isn’t helping. Maybe you should take a break.” She heard his stubbornness as he cleared his throat, and went on, “Besides, you stumbling around and yawning is sending the wrong message to your…employees.”
“Listen, honey”—he knew she hated the term, and the look she shot him, confirmed it. “Do you have any idea how far into debt I am over this damn dig?” He slammed a fist on his desk, and explained, “Digging in the wrong spot for so long did nothing for our paychecks.” He knew no one could fathom the zeros that rolled around in his head at night. “Do you want to tell them their paychecks aren’t coming?” he asked, nodding toward the workmen outside, and Ramon’s security squad surreptitiously patrolling the perimeter. Some passed eerily close to his RV, guns at the ready. “Because I don’t.”
Unbidden to his mind, as he spoke, came Clark Ashbridge’s warnings. “Don’t blow the family fortune,” and “You’re just like your grandfather, and that’s not a good thing,” or his favorite, “You’ll follow that crazy old coot into an early grave if you listen to his stories.”
“Besides,” he went on, “I swore to Clark I’d never blow the family fortune on stupid ventures and I’ve no intention of breaking that promise now.” Slinging himself back into his chair, as Miss Welker pushed the door open, he called after her, “No rest for the weary, deary.”
“Or the wicked,” she cooed, her eyes sparkling, as she blew him a kiss.
He felt a stirring he couldn’t shake. Watching Miss Welker’s perfect form leave, he sighed in yearning. Would there be time for them before he sent her on his next mission? He wondered. Then, under his breath, “You’re the boss, son. You call the shots. You decide when and where things take place. Grow a pair, man!”
She was barely out the door, and she had him wound up tighter than a drum. Any more tension, and he’d come apart at the seams. Is that how she does it? A little taste, a little leaving, with just a little room for a taste for more? Oh god…
Heaving himself back up to his desk, Noah Ashbridge swallowed his desires and opened the journal he’d only moments before slammed shut. “Maybe Clark had Reginald pegged all along,” he muttered to himself, as he recalled the tension between his father and grandfather.
Six
In the fading twilight, the last burnt orange glow of the sun peeked through the slits in his tent. The dusk air helped keep it cool, as Thomas Knight worked diligently and meticulously. Brushing, dusting, and picking bits of ancient earth from his findings, his cleaning tools were an extension of his own hands.
He’d been doing this a long time, and now found himself reflecting on the events of the recent months and weeks. Abby, Pediah, and Harriet had been brought back up topside by the medics. Just a few hours earlier, Harriet had left her infirmary bed for a medevac helicopter ride back home.
Abby and Pediah had caught up with Alexia and Robbie, Thomas assumed. They all knew that sometimes he just needed to be alone. It was his thinking time.
Much like combing his beard helped him to think, so too, did the meticulous cleaning work required of many an archeologist. Shouldn’t I be in a nice, cool office writing about this stuff? Then came a sly grin, and a heartfelt No way. Never.
The whole point of going into the field, to his mind, was to bring something out of the dust with his own two hands. You couldn’t set a price on history, he believed. In his musings, he felt he earth tremble beneath his feet, and shook his head.
Even topside, he’d discovered, his team wasn’t safe from the small tremors that shook the earth beneath them. Most, he rationalized, like Pediah and Robbie, would chalk the tremors up to “this is California.” Hell, didn’t I read somewhere that fault lines are the reason Death Valley exists? Think it might have even been the national park service, come to think of it.
Rational and practical, he still couldn’t shake the feeling there was something else happening. After all, the tremors had become like contractions, coming on every hour or so and lasting no longer than a few seconds. The frequency of the earth’s movements had everyone on edge. Thomas Knight most of all.
Intent on his work, and lost deep in thought, he nearly dropped his work when he heard a voice. Abby had poked her head in, with a quick, “Hello Thomas. Got a minute?”
Before he could look up, Abby continued, “I’ve got news. Careful there,” she cautioned, as she watched the artifact jump from his hands, which he caught deftly.
“Thanks for the warning,” he shot back dryly. Then, looking up sheepishly, he quietly offered, “Sorry. What’s up?”
“Right. Thought you’d like to hear about how Harriet’s doing,” she replied, her eyes sparkling. At Thomas’ quizzical expression, Abby continued, “Relax. It’s good news!”
“I could use some of that right about now,” Thomas quipped tightly, his voice strained.
Abby took a breath, blew it out, and slowly explained, “Well, of course you know she’ll be heading home…” her voice trailed off, as Thomas nodded vigorously, “Yeah, I figured that.”
“But, that’s not the good news.” Thomas Knight’s arched eyebrows rivaled Jack Nicholson’s, as they marched toward his hairline, his eyes questioning. Abby laughed in excitement, and continued, “She’s going home because with the advances of modern medicine—I’m talking 3D printing here—the doctors can fix her legs. She’ll be able to walk again, thanks to yours and Robbie’s quick
thinking.”
Abby leaned back in the chair she’d commandeered and smiled, “See? Good news.”
Thomas agreed. He felt lighter. One burden was lifted from his shoulders. He looked up then at Abby and smiled, his exhaustion evident. Abby Hogan, ever the mother hen, leaned forward. “Why don’t you take a break? Have you eaten?”
He shook his head, “No to both, but don’t worry. I’ll take a break soon enough.”
“But, Thom—“Abby began. Thomas cut her short, “I need the distraction,” he explained. “Too much has happened—Noah, the tremors and quakes, Harriet…the list goes on.”
“You listen to me, Thomas Knight,” exclaimed Abigail Hogan, her voice somewhere between motherly and professorial, “nothing that’s happened is your fault. You need to learn to forgive yourself.”
“I know,” his head bowed, his eyes downcast. A world of pain and worry weighed heavy on his shoulders.
Abby stood up as if to leave. “I understand,” she said. Then, in a few short steps, she crossed to his desk, and wrapped him in her arms, “We’re all here for you, Thomas. Don’t shut us out.”
He reached up and put his hand on hers, “Thanks.” The two smiled and Abby left.
Thomas watched her go, as his eyes drifted toward the ancient drum. For several minutes, he simply stared, his brain working to clarify a random thought. It was a niggling at the back of his mind that he couldn’t shake. A feeling that this was more than a drum.
No, it can’t be that. He thought to himself, discounting his instinct. Like Abby said, I’m hungry and exhausted. I must not be thinking straight. Without realizing he was doing so, Thomas stood up and walked the few steps toward the drum for a closer look.
Thoroughly baffled at his own thoughts, he shook his head, then out loud he wondered, “My grandmother used to say thunder was the angels bowling….” Then, “Could this drum be something similar to that old wives’ tale? Could this drum have somehow woken the cave dwellers and creatures? Could they be causing the tremors?”
He fished his beard comb from his pocket, absentmindedly, and after several downward strokes, chastised himself. Of course not, you dolt. How…? Well, there’s not really much else to go on at this point. This idea of cave dwellers and creatures shaking the earth is as plausible as anything else we’ve come up with so far.
Abby’s right. I’ve got to get some rest or some professional help…That’s it. I need a sounding board for this insane idea.
As if the drum could calm his nerves or give him answers, he gently laid his hand on it and closed his eyes. It was in that moment he decided to visit Alexia. She’d tell him straight if he’d completely lost his mind, or if he might be on to something.
Seven
Thomas Knight heard the activity in Alexia’s tent before he saw it. “Knock, knock,” he called over the hum of a 5kw generator.
“Yeah?” Alexia’s strained voice greeted him. When he poked his head in, she added, “Oh Thomas! Come in! Sorry, just a little crazy in here.”
“I see” as he took in the piles of books, three laptops, and Alexia’s frizzy, unkempt hair. “I’d ask if you wanted some coffee, but I see you’ve had enough already,” he joked. Her look gave an answer he hoped he never heard her speak. “Too soon?” he asked.
“Too soon,” Alexia replied. “Sit. Give me a few more minutes and I’ll be able to talk,” she explained over the hum, without looking up. Thomas knew from experience how hard it was to work and talk. Especially when it came to the kind of work it looked like Alexia had taken on. She was the mechanic, the Ms. Fixit of the group. She was also, he remembered, a technological whiz kid.
Thomas nodded, cleared off a chair buried under books, and sat down to wait.
Alexia had looked up from her laptops only briefly in the last few hours, and looked back down at them now. On one computer, she’d entered all the data of their findings; on another, detailed accounts of their time beneath the surface. This second computer detailed their discovery of the caves and the creatures they’d encountered. This information would be coupled with reports from Thomas and Pediah’s initial survey. And on the third screen was some version of a summary, which she hoped Dr. Donald Cunningham would understand. She hoped what she wrote would pass muster.
Her eyes and fingers flew across the screens and the keyboards at dizzying speeds.
Where and how did she learn to do all that? Thomas wondered, as he watched her. Then, with a resounding click, and a breathless, “Aha!” Alexia flung herself back into her chair with reckless abandon and smiled.
“So…you’re finished?” Thomas asked tentatively.
“Yep.” She thought she should have said more, but decided her single declaration summed it up nicely. Besides, she mused, she was too tired for small talk. She also determined that Thomas Knight had better have had a darned good reason for coming in just then.
“How’d you land this gig, anyway? I thought you were our go-to mechanic. Ms. FixIt, I believe you said,” Thomas quipped, knowing she hated the moniker.
“You’re lucky I’m too tired,” Alexia retorted. “But, to answer your question, I’m doing this because we—Abby and I—though it would be a good idea to get everything condensed into a simple form to send to Dr. Cunningham, er Donald, to review.”
“Makes sense,” Thomas agreed.
“Besides,” Alexia went on, “with the digging delayed as we figure out next steps—and you know how I hate to be bored—this seemed like a logical project to help me stay busy. Comprende?” she asked, a sly smile creeping around her lips.
“Yeah, I got it. I’d offer to help, but it seems you don’t need the assist,” Thomas offered. Alexia shook her head, “I’m good. Thanks.” Then, tilting her head, she looked at Thomas quizzically and got straight to the heart of the matter, exclaiming, “But, you did come here for a reason. What’s up?”
Thomas Knight took a deep breath. He knew how crazy he was going to sound. “I have a…science question for you,” he explained.
“Um, thanks for the ego boost, but…I’m more of a tech person, not science,” Alexia clarified. One look at Thomas stayed her from teasing. Instead, she got up from behind her computer screen wall, moved around the tables. Stepping over books and papers, she placed herself in front of Thomas.
She leaned against the table, her hands behind her, grasping its long edge. This was her listening pose.
Thomas knew, and smiled. “I think in this case, you might have more science background than you realize.” he fumbled to explain.
Why am I tongue-tied now? He wondered. We’ve been through—she’s been through so much…And you don’t want her to think you’re crazy! He debated with himself, and suddenly wondered what he was doing here. Why was he bothering her with all this? Then with a look at her one arched eyebrow, somehow both questioning and concerned, he blundered on.
“I mean, you were chosen for your skills to help move earth, so I’m thinking there’s some geological training somewhere in the mix.”
Her eyes widened. How did he know that? Alexia nodded, “Okay…” Her voice confirmed, what he’d suspected, ever since he’d first met her at Abby’s. She was a born archeologist; she just hadn’t realized it until this dig.
Thomas began again. “This is going to sound crazy, but do you think it would be possible for tremors to be caused by the movement of those creatures? Those we met below, as they move through the earth?”
Alexia fixed Thomas with one of her stares. Sometimes, he felt as though she could see right through him. For several minutes, she considered his question, then with a straight face and furrowed brow, Alexia asked, “You’re joking, right?”
Thomas shook his head slowly, as if the gesture might keep her from laughing him back to his tent. His heart skipped a beat, when Alexia put her finger to her lips, and began gently tapping. She didn’t think I’m crazy! She’s thinking…
For a long while, she tapped, then at last, she stopped. Instead, she first put her hands t
ogether as if praying. “There are…stories. Legends,” she began.
Thomas leaned forward, his hands rested loosely on his knees. She could see the twinkle in his eye and couldn’t decide if he was going to tease her or listen. So, she stopped him with a raised hand. He was listening.
“Let me finish,” she chided. “First of all, to your initial question, I’ll state it simply. Science says no.” Her eyes roved, from Thomas to the laptop screen in front of her, and she explained, “But, I was just reading…where was that?” She thought for a moment, pushed off from her perch against the table, and moved back to where she’d been at the computers. “I stumbled across a story in my research. There are legends that talk of creatures who can cause earthquakes…” her voice trailed off, as she scanned the screens.
“Ah, found it!” Alexia continued. She began to read aloud. “Indigenous tribes, in the Pacific Northwest, believed that the Thunderbird, a supernatural creature, caused tsunamis and earthquakes by battling a great whale,” she began as she read the full account. Then, scanning toward the bottom of the page, Alexia exclaimed, “Oh! Here’s the site information I was looking for,” she added.
“From the Pacific Northwest Seismic Network, as told by Luke Hobucket,” she read, glancing over the screens at Thomas. He nodded, encouraging her to go on. She scrolled down a few paragraphs and found the legend she’d remembered. It was the legend that had triggered her memory, as she continued to read from it.
“There was the great flood. At that time. Thunderbird fought with Mimlos-Whale. The battle lasted a long time. For a long time, the battle was undecided. Thunderbird, in the air, could not whip Mimlos-whale in the water. Thunderbird would seize Mimlos-whale in his talons, and tried to carry him to his nest, in the mountains.”
Alexia stopped and paraphrased a few sentences. Her eyes, already spotting the part she wanted Thomas to take particular note of, she continued, “the whale would get away, only to be captured again, and so the battle raged. A terrible battle. The noise he made—“Alexia paused, and looked up again, “this is the part I think you’ll be most interested in. The noise that Thunderbird made when he flapped his wings shook the mountains. They stripped the timber bare. They tore the trees out by the roots. Then Mimlos-whale got away. Again, Thunderbird caught him. Again, they fought in another place. All the trees there were torn out by their roots, and again the whale escaped…”