by Tom Hunter
“The job of tour guide, silly!” Miss Welker’s infectious laughter and winning smiled melted his heart, and she knew he was lost to her charms. “I’ve seen Thomas Knight’s tent and this one, she continued, I’d love to check out the rest of it. I wouldn’t want to get lost.”
Smiling, he offered her his arm. “Well, then! Shall we?”
Miss Welker linked her arm in his, as he led her out of the tent and into the camp. She took careful note of where the patrols were located, especially the most direct and lightly patrolled route to Thomas’ tent. As they passed the comms tent, she took special note of its location as well. She’d need to get in there to tackle the other half of her task: the drone data disappearing act.
The low hum of a hover vehicle caught Matthews’ ear distracting him from his duties as tour guide and Miss Welker’s constant shifting. Ah, Dr. Cunningham has arrived, he assumed. He’s later than he should have been. Wonder what held him up?
“Sorry to cut the tour short, but Dr. Cunningham has arrived, and I’ve got some things to talk over with him.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve got the lay of the land, now,” Miss Welker said. As soon as Matthews’ back was turned, she shivered and rubbed her arm as if to shake the feeling of him.
Alone at last, Miss Welker was only too happy to focus on her next task. Before she could grab the drum, she needed to make sure the drone hadn’t discovered Noah’s location.
With her eye on the comms tent, she walked past to see how many were inside. It would take a few passes before she could sneak in. It was at times like these she was thankful for her chameleon-like natural ability and blessed body. Who needed brawn when beauty would do?
Twenty-Five
Already missing his air-conditioned office, Dr. Donald Cunningham wiped his brow with a monogrammed handkerchief as he departed his vehicle. It had been some time since he was in the field. Though he missed it from time to time, the blistering sun of Death Valley always assured him he’d chosen wisely in accepting the position at the California Museum of Science.
Matthews shook his head at the man as he approached. Looks like he should be advertising Heineken or be living it up somewhere in the Caribbean. That silly white suit and hat. Colonel Sanders, you are not…
Regardless of the man’s attire, Matthews respected him and appreciated his efforts. Matthews knew the man had a soft spot for Abby, and liked him all the more for it. “An honestly good guy, who just happens to have a bankroll to fund this shindig,” Matthews muttered under his breath as he approached, his arm outstretched.
“Hello Matthews. Good to see you again!” boomed Dr. Cunningham. He was tense, overcompensating with bluster, and he knew it. So did Matthews.
In a lower voice, Dr. Cunningham asked, “It’s too bloody hot for a Jeep, even a hover vehicle,” he complained. “Could you just set up a helipad nearby, so I can leave the car for Abby when she returns?” he asked.
“Of course, we’ll see to it as soon as you’re settled. Glad you could make it, sir. We’re grateful for the help and for you coming in person. Miss Hogan has some mighty big shoes to fill, but I expect you know that.”
“Yes, yes. Happy to help,” Dr. Cunningham confirmed. “We’ve certainly gotten ourselves into a pickle, haven’t we?” he asked, looking at Matthews but speaking as if to himself.
“It would seem so.” Matthews shrugged.
“Now,” Dr. Cunningham exclaimed, rubbing his hands together, “where is Abby’s tent? I assume that is where I will be staying as I fill in for her? Is it not?”
“Yes, yes, of course, sir.” Matthews turned on his heel. “Follow me.”
Twenty-Six
Navigating her way to the comms tent, Miss Welker crept in shadow along the perimeter of the other tents. She stopped at the crackle of radios and crouched low, kept her head down, and listened.
She tilted her head slightly and peered inside a small opening—a sliver of the tent flap, not quite closed. Only two? She thought as she counted the voices and heard no other sound. Everyone else must be with Knight.
Adam and his colleague, the last surviving members of Comms Team 3, had been left behind for their own safety. “You’ve been through enough,” Thomas had told them.
“Do you see anything, Adam?” A few taps on a keyboard, and the whirring of a printer coming to life.
They’re trying to get a read on the recording. Miss Welker smiled. Guess little Miss Fixit isn’t quite as good as she thinks she is.
“No,” Adam answered, “but that doesn’t mean there isn’t something there. I think we should send it on to the authorities. We’ve got some great equipment here, state-of-the art, but they’ve got that new imaging software.”
“You think they’ll see something we missed?”
Miss Welker listened more intently waiting for them to say more, but the soft tap of buttons and a final, “Well, that’s that, then. Sent.” gave her all the answer she needed.
Someone walked by her in the dark, and her heart skipped a beat. She stood up quickly in a manner which suggested she was waiting for someone.
“Did you hear that?” Adam asked. Miss Welker tensed for a brief moment, then relaxed when the man answered, “No. It’s too loud in here to hear much of anything. We’ve been at this awhile and I need a break.”
“Me, too” answered Adam.
Miss Welker, as she listened to the exchange, had crept around to the back of the tent, keeping an eye out for any stragglers. Twisting her head to see around the corner, she watched the two men leave.
She shook her head. Did they realize they’d left the comms tent completely unattended? “Good lord, even Ramon isn’t this dumb,” she said under her breath as she slipped inside.
An old-style long-distance communication radio took up one table. Miss Welker looked for something she could work with, and noticed wires running from the radio to the computer. Good, something she could hack.
Upon closer inspection, she realized the attached computer recorded the findings, and was programmed to avoid manual operation. Her fingers flew over the keyboard and with a few quick strokes scrambled the video files. By the time someone opened them up in the slow-moving world of “authorities”, they’d be useless. Next, she reprogrammed the drone, by stopping it from ever going near Noah’s camp.
“There,” she said to herself in a low voice. “Where an empty field becomes a camp.”
This fiction should buy us a little more time, she thought as she hit the enter key.
Mentally patting herself on the back, Miss Welker sat back, satisfied with her work, and smiled. Taking one last look around to make sure she hadn’t missed anything or left any trace, she slipped out of the tent as quietly as she’d slipped in, and headed back to her tent.
Twenty-Seven
Thomas couldn’t sleep. He’d gotten them all into this mess with his crazy schemes, and he needed to figure out how to get them out.
Thomas sighed, and rolled his head back as he heard someone call softly to him. He smiled when he recognized the voice as Alexia and opened one eye. “Yes? What can I do ya for?” he teased softly, his voice thick with exhaustion. Though tense with worry, he was happy to see her.
“Ah, you know me, always wanting to ‘pick your brain’,” she volleyed, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. Thomas Knight opened both eyes and arched his eyebrows.
Alexia shook her head. “Sorry. Reflex,” she explained. Then, frowning, she continued, “Look, I can see you’re worried. Have you even slept yet?” Thomas shook his head, his lips drawn into a thin, tight line.
“I’ve been watching you,” she went on. “Don’t shake your head at me, like that. I can tell when something’s bothering you. Do you think we’ll get out of here alive?”
“It’s not that I’m worried, exactly,” Thomas tried to explain. “It’s more like I’m baffled. We know next to nothing about this culture, too many from my team have already died or been injured, and I know if the bodies continue to pil
e up I’ll have only myself to blame.” He sighed deeply and in a well-worn mantra repeated, “No one dies”—he stopped and corrected himself. “No one else dies on my watch.”
Alexia reached out and laid a gentle hand on his arm. Softly, she asked, “Do you believe in God or some higher being, Thomas?”
Confused at the sudden new question, Thomas propped himself up on his elbow, and turned to face Alexia. “What are you getting at?”
“Relax. I didn’t mean to ruffle any scientific feathers,” she said lightly. “I only meant this: whether or not you believe, it’s important to have something to lean on when all seems lost. It makes the impossible seem less frightening.”
Thomas smiled, and placed his hand over hers. “Or someone.”
Alexia blushed, and Thomas went on. “I’ve been an archeologist a long time. I’ve been privy to a number of faiths and belief systems, and I’ve studied them all. It’s not that I don’t believe in any one god or being, it’s that I understand there are many ways to seek comfort in the knowledge of a higher power.”
Thomas paused, biting his lip slightly, as he thought of what to say next. He needed her to understand he wasn’t disparaging her faith.
“What I believe in the most,” he said holding her gaze, “is the power of people to get themselves out of their own messes. Call it what you will: free will or God helps those who help themselves.” As he spoke, Thomas laughed at himself softly. “To answer your simple question in the longest way possible, ultimately, if there’s the slightest chance, we can get out of here, I believe we will.”
Alexia and Thomas exchanged smiles. Something more had passed between them in their brief exchange, though neither could yet put their finger on it.
“Get some sleep, Alexia,” Thomas advised.
“Back atcha, kid.”
Thomas closed his eyes, and within seconds was fast asleep.
Twenty-Eight
The sound of stone grinding on stone woke Thomas, and it could only mean one thing. Someone was opening the door. Adjusting his eyes from darkness to the sudden brightness of electric lamps, Thomas watched in disbelief as a contingent of Woidnuk poured into the small room, jerking the team to their feet.
“Hey!” he shouted. “Relax. Give us a minute.” His shouts and cries fell on deaf ears. He heard Abby call to Mochni.
“Mochni! Can you help us? Make them understand?” Abby pleaded. “Tell them we’ll come. We don’t need to be forced,” she tried to explain.
Robbie was spoiling for a fight. Pediah stood at the ready, despite being a pacifist. He wouldn’t fight unless it was absolutely necessary. Given his innate understanding of these people, Pediah knew the Woidnuk didn’t want to fight either.
“Relax, everyone,” Thomas called to the others. “It’ll be OK.” Robbie, Pediah, Alexia, and Abby knew he was striving to keep everyone calm, but the look on his face told a different story.
As the Woidnuk marched Thomas Knight and his team out of their confines, down the long tunnel’s path, and back to the center of town, Thomas noted two things. The bodies once stacked and strewn had disappeared, presumably tossed into deep chasms.
And when they arrived back at where they’d started, he noticed their gear had been collected and was now surrounded by guards. There would be no easy access to their things.
Though the Woidnuks’ night vision was extraordinary, having spent a lifetime in the caverns beneath Death Valley, they’d had the consideration to set up lights.
Soon, the path of lights revealed a small circle gathered around an old man. Thomas heard Abby gasp, and when his eyes had fully adjusted to the partial darkness, he understood why. On one side of the man sat Mochni. On the other side was the woman Robbie had tried to help, in the fight. Thomas squinted; something about the woman niggled at the back of his mind. After a few minutes, his sharp intake of breath surprised even him as he realized the woman bore a striking resemblance to Mochni.
But, it was the man between them who struck a particularly odd chord. He looked like none of the Woidnuk. Thomas thought he looked rather plain in comparison, and could have just as easily been part of his archeological team, being human rather than Woidnuk in stature. He was an old white male, with shockingly white long-flowing hair and a beard to match. He could have been Dr. Cunningham’s older brother or Gandalf’s twin, so surreal did everything seem.
“Who is in charge, here?” demanded Thomas, looking directly at the man seated between Mochni and Chu’mana, his mother.
“You guess correctly, Thomas,” began the man in English. Thomas Knight’s eyebrows shot into his hairline in surprise. “I am in charge.”
“Welcome, everyone” continued the man. “I am sorry for the…confinement. But, with all the shooting and death. I had to be sure. Had to know you are not like them. Those men from the surface.” Thomas and his team listened and remained silent as the man continued to speak. His face seemed to light up with every word. It’s almost as if he missed speaking English, Thomas thought idly.
“My Mochni. Forgive me. I mean, my son, Mochni has told us much about you. And you are not like the others.” The man frowned, “but he also brings me…disturbing news. He also tells me about your camp, that you have found many of our artifacts, and that you wish to share your discovery of us with…the world.” The man shook his head. “This I cannot agree to. It must not happen.”
The silence was deafening when the leader finished speaking.
It was Robbie who broke the silence. “Um, I think I speak for everyone here when I say—what?” He shook his head. “I mean, I don’t get it. If he”—pointing at Mochni—“could speak English, and everyone else,” he said, waving a hand at the gathered villagers, “could speak English, then…why not just to speak to us in English? What was up with all the click, clack gibberish?” he asked.
“Ah, I see I have to fill up some holes. Some gaps?” Thomas and Robbie nodded.
“Ah, yes. It has been too long. I did not introduce myself. Once, I was called, Lt. Whipkey,” the man began. Jaws dropped at the news.
Thomas couldn’t help himself. “We thought you were dead! You’ve been missing…a very long time.”
“Yes,” Whipkey nodded. “I was brash, and if I’m honest, probably drunk. I drove into the desert. Wanted to take a walk to clear my head,” he explained. “But, drink does not get you far. Especially in the desert. At night.” He shrugged. “What’s the phrase? ‘To make a long story short’?” Thomas nodded his encouragement, and almost laughed as the Lt. Whipkey admitted sheepishly, “I fell.”
Questions swarmed through Thomas Knight’s mind. He glanced sharply at Robbie to remain silent.
Chuckling, Lt. Whipkey finished. “I fell down the same sandslide sinkhole you did, I believe. I looked behind the door as you did and followed the path. They took me in—adopted?—and well, he spread his hands palms-up, here I am.”
“But. English,” Robbie squeaked. He couldn’t help it, he had to know.
Lt. Whipkey smiled. “That is quite simple. After I learned the Woidnuk language, my English fell into disuse. But, I still remember it, though I may mistake or miss a word here and there.”
Robbie, who’d slapped a hand over his mouth, let it slide down, and whispered reverently, “Wouldn’t my fans go crazy learning Lt. Whipkey’s still alive and leader of an ancient civilization underneath Death Valley. Wow, just wow.”
With another sharp look at Robbie to keep quiet, Thomas turned back to Lt. Whipkey, and asked the question which had been niggling at the back of his mind for quite some time. “The term, Woidnuk, he began. What—?” his question stalled at the starting line. He shrugged helplessly with a wan smile, as he addressed the man.
“I think I understand.” Lt. Whipkey nodded slowly. “The term ‘Woidnuk’, as far as I can tell is the closest approximation in English to their true name. And even I don’t know what that is.”
“Mochni,” chided Abby gently, “why didn’t you tell us?” The giant youth rem
ained silent, and Abby continued, “But, I must thank you for telling Lt. Wh—, your father, about us. That we can be trusted.”
Thomas stroked his beard, and smiled, exclaiming, “I have so many questions. I don’t know where to begin.”
Lt. Whipkey held up a hand. “There will be plenty of time for questions, but now there is no time. Eknom’s Folly has been taken and as I understand it, it was you and your team who took it.”
“We…took…a few things,” Thomas admitted. “What is Eknom’s Folly?” A foreboding sense of fear lay in the pit of his stomach.
“Eknom’s Folly is a drum.”
Twenty-Nine
Lt. Whipkey had shaken Thomas’ hand. He hadn’t forgotten the civilities of the surface world, he reminded himself. But, as he broached the subject of Eknom’s Folly, he realized these surface-dwellers had no idea what it was they’d taken. To them, it must have just seemed an ancient drum, from an ancient world, he thought, as he watched the expression on Thomas Knight’s face.
“Forgive me, I forget most don’t know our—their—history. I’m rather new to the story. But, what I learned in those first few days could fill several history books.”
“Is there a point?” exclaimed Robbie, much to Thomas’ chagrin.
Unfazed, Lt. Whipkey offered a small smile. “It’s okay,” he confided. “I was an impatient man, too, once. You must understand, sir,” he said to Thomas, “we were once a trusting people. But, we have had too many instances in which wolves in sheep’s clothing eroded that trust.
“Come, sit,” Lt. Whipkey said, as he gestured to the floor before him. I think a history lesson is in order.”
Grateful to be off his feet, Thomas realized pillows had suddenly materialized in a circle, enough for everyone to sit comfortably, and it was to here Thomas Knight and his team were directed. Once everyone was seated, their host began his tale.