The Sam Reilly Collection Volume 2

by Christopher Cartwright

  Her mind raced, trying to formulate a scientific explanation for what she’d found. Could it be a fake? The carbon dating of the leather bound codex would tell her for certain. It was either made during the time range when Nostradamus lived or not. What if someone else had left it for her? She shook her head – impossible. She watched as the laborers tried to pry the box free from the sand. The box was fixed hard which meant it had been there for centuries, not days, weeks or months like a hoax.

  When all possible logical explanations were removed, only one remained – and the very one she could’t accept as truth. Nostradamus could in fact see the future. Which meant everything else might be true and the world was approaching its greatest danger.

  She read the first page again.

  *

  Dear Zara Delacroix,

  I am writing this letter first. You see the information in this book is going to take nearly my entire life to transcribe. In case I run out of time, I want you to first know the truth.

  I was not the first to learn about the fate of humanity. I may be the last, if you fail to do what is necessary. Unfortunately, I don’t know what that is. As a Seer, I receive a wealth of information. It has been passed down through the ages of time – but the masters keep some things from me. As you may well have guessed by now, I don’t see it in chronological order. Sometimes I can guess when something will happen because the event is close enough to my present day to allow me to make the connections.

  For example, I may know someone in the vision. But most often, I know exactly what will happen, but no idea about when the event took place. You see for me, these events HAVE already happened. I have spent my life documenting the major events. All events affect the future, but it is only the major ones that have enough energy to disrupt the final outcome.

  It is the final outcome of humanity that I leave with you in this book today.

  I spent my life searching for a solution. I see the future as a series of events, held together by the strings of time. We can all see time, but for some reason I was always able to see the relationship between these strings. The closer the strings are together the more changes occur. The longer they are apart, the better. Massive strings can’t be changed, so don’t bother trying, as I have, and have always failed.

  All strings have an end time. Some only decades in the future. Others last millennia, but all events lead to the same outcome – the human race will become extinct in your lifetime.

  There was one event in which the strings of time are allowed to continue. Only one event that suggests the human race may continue. It is not a certainty, and I know very little about what will happen once you read this. Your timeline may even continue for millennia, although I’m rather pessimistic about extending the course of the human race by that much. I can’t say what life is like or if people are happy or sad, or will ever know how close they came to extinction. I’m blinded past this point. I know very little about you, or why you were chosen – I don’t even know if THEY picked you, or if you were a randomly selected anomaly in the fabric of our existence.

  Do you know what event I’m talking about?

  You, Zara Delacroix – finding my book.

  By now you would have spent years doubting if I ever saw the future or was just a charlatan. In truth, I was both. Yes, I saw parts of the future, but in reality – I merely saw aspects, which I transcribed in this book. I had visions every single day. Hundreds of visions. It was a most unpleasant life. I spent years trying to learn to block them out, but they simply came back stronger and more vividly. I documented these events, but I was never able to make sense of when or where the events occurred. Consequently, I learned very little about the future. There is an equation, which you will need to find to apply to this book if you are going to make any sense of it. In one of my visions, which I believe, if I’m to trust my instincts, took place many millennia in the past, an equation was formulated to determine the time of these events. It was created by an ancient civilization, lost to antiquity millennia ago.

  I don’t know who they were, or where you will find their equation, but I do know you must if you’re ever to decipher the truth and save humanity.

  When I follow the strings of massive events, this is the largest of them all. It is the only one which has the potential to keep humanity alive – and while there is life, there is hope. So take this book, and use it as you see fit. I can’t tell you what is expected of you, or why this changes the world. The answers in this book can be used for great power. You may save the world, but you might just as readily expedite its demise.

  And to do that you must stay alive. I wish I could tell you everything you need to know, but I have written too much already, and your time is running out – fast!

  As you read this the last of the burning Saharan sun is fading over the horizon. I will tell you the last thing I know about your future. Very soon, you must go for a long walk in the dark. You go alone to clear your mind

  THEY will be after you. I believe the very last thing THEY want is for you to interrupt the future. Forget your past. All want to betray you. Watch the infinite starlight and free your mind from the trappings of your beliefs – they’re about to be shattered forever.

  Run now or you will die – and then humanity will have lost.

  Chapter Nine

  Zara felt her lips go dry and her throat sting with fear. She’d never been superstitious, but every ghost of her past generations was telling her to run. She closed the codex and locked the latch. The book weighed less than a few pounds. She placed it into a small backpack, along with a single bottle of water. The water wouldn’t get her very far, but neither would trying to walk across the Saharan desert as Nostradamus had suggested, so what did it matter? She then carefully replaced the heavy brass lid onto the chest and spun the dials until they locked firmly. Confident that would give any thief at least some pause Zara breathed in the last of the warm desert air and stepped outside the tent.

  The camp was alive with celebrations. Campfires burned. Zara smelled the rich aroma of Ashahi tea, the traditional drink of the Tuareg nomads during times of celebration. Made from Gunpowder Green Tea, it was mixed with sugar and mint and served by pouring from a height of over a foot into small tea glasses with a froth on top. Her eyes glanced at the sky above. It was ink black and peppered with more stars than she could count in a lifetime. She smiled. It meant there wasn’t a single cloud anywhere.

  Massive thunderstorm tonight, hey? Some prediction, Nostradamus!

  “Adebowale,” she greeted him. Her voice was a dry croak. The unique mixture of fear, elation and relief jamming her tongue to the roof of her mouth. “Any problems in the camp?”

  “No, Doctor – should I be expecting any?” He asked, looking down to meet her hardened eyes.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m just concerned by the enormity of the discovery. Definitely no late arrivals, an unexpected camel train filled with nomads perhaps?”

  “No Doctor. Do not worry, the prophecy will be safe. What did you read that made you turn pale? I thought you said Nostradamus was nothing more than a charlatan?”

  “He was!” she reaffirmed with an innocent smile. “But a very good one.”

  “The best Seers often were, I am told.”

  She looked up at the sky. It was crystal clear and filled with stars unrestrained by the ambient lights of a major city for more than a thousand miles. “What do you think the chances are of a thunderstorm tonight?”

  Adebowale laughed. “Impossible. I was born in this desert. I have spent more time here than anywhere else in the world, including my homeland. I know this weather as though it was a part of me, an extension of my arms and legs, and I can tell you there’s no storm coming tonight.”

  “Good.” Zara smiled, feeling somewhat reassured. Perhaps it was a hoax after all – even if a very good one. “Look. I’m going out into the sand dunes for an hour or so to collect my thoughts. Make plans to move the book to Matan a
l-Sarra Air Base. I’ll contact the buyer tonight and make sure he’s got a plane waiting for us there. I’ll need to examine it at a laboratory before I can confirm its authenticity.”

  “Yes, Doctor – the men will be ready, I promise.”

  “Good. Can you personally guard the book and make certain no one enters my tent until I return?”

  Adebowale bowed his head, reverently. “As you wish, Doctor.”

  “I mean it, don’t leave this to any of your men – it’s too important.”

  Adebowale looked at her warmly. “Do not worry, Doctor. I will protect it with my life.”

  Zara turned to walk out of the camp and hoped to hell Adebowale’s words wouldn’t come back to haunt her.

  Chapter Ten

  Zara climbed the first sand dune and headed south. It was dark. She knew it was dangerous to walk far from the camp by herself, but needed to be on her own. The discovery had single handedly confirmed the basis of the theory on which she’d built her entire academic career, and at the same time, shown her how far she was from acquiring the equation. She had long argued that even if Nostradamus did in fact see the future, there was no way he could determine an accurate way of measuring the time of the events. It would be like walking into a cinema and watching a single scene. Without seeing what came before, you couldn’t determine the time or date of that event.

  She reached the peak of the second sand dune. Zara paused long enough to glance at the makeshift camp that had been her home for the past three months. Her final attempt at finding the book. The campfires burned brightly. She could hear the loud, boisterous laughs, of many of the men who labored for her – they sounded so happy.

  Her eyes continued searching past the camp to the dark horizon. No other lights burned. The sea of sand turned into darkness. She breathed deeply – perhaps Nostradamus was lying. There was no sign that anything bad was going to happen to the camp or her people. The thought was crazy. She was on an archeological expedition. No one in their right mind really believed Nostradamus really left a book that yielded unimaginable power in the desert – did they? Did she? She asked herself.

  Zara turned and continued down the next sand dune, all sixty feet of it. She climbed the third followed by the fourth. Breathing deeply as her feet lifted off the sinking sand as quickly and as lithely as they stepped, she slowly gained height in the massive mountain of sand. She was Queen of the Sahara and she didn’t fear the walk through the desert sands.

  It wasn’t until the fourth sand dune she began to laugh. At the crest she looked back at the camp, now at least two miles away. The light from the camp was prominent. There was no risk of losing it altogether, but the Saharan desert was a dangerous place. Even in the night, the extreme weather changes and sudden sand storms had lethal outcomes.

  What was she thinking?

  There was no way Nostradamus could see the future. He wasn’t any more of a Seer than she was. The thought was impossible. There had to be a better explanation. Besides, even if he was right, and there was going to be an attack on the camp tonight – why would she walk across the desert without any food or water? The concept was absurd. She would die of exposure, thirst, and stupidity within a day or two.

  She needed to get away and collect her thoughts – that’s all.

  Out of range of the laughter and merriment from the camp, Zara found the silence comforting. Even if this was the biggest hoax, she could be funded for years of research before she proved it. The myriad of stars reassured her that there was a purpose in everything in the universe. No matter how important. This was simply what she needed to do with her life. Zara wondered what her financial backer would say when he heard about her discovery. Would he continue funding her search? It might take years to achieve it, but the results would be worth it.

  Would he believe in the Nostradamus Equation?

  She thought about that for a few moments. Comforted by the silence, Zara opened the old codex. Skipped the first page letter addressed to herself by Nostradamus’s own hand. She made a mental note to check the handwriting with documented letters by the master Seer.

  There were three versions of Nostradamus’s long-term predictions, named, Les Prophecies. The most complete surviving version being an omnibus edition that was published after his death in 1568. In that account there was one unrhymed and 941 rhymed quatrains, grouped into nine sets of 100 and one of 42. Each group was identified as Centuries.

  She stared at the first real page of what Nostradamus described as the most dangerous book in the world – and swore loudly.

  Centuries VII

  Zara quickly read the first few quatrains. Feeling a terrible sense of wasted time. They were identical to the ones she’d read years earlier. Centuries VII could be purchased anywhere around the world. It was most notable of all the Centuries collections because unlike the rest of collections, which included one hundred individual quatrains, it contained just 42.

  *

  1.

  The arc of the treasure deceived by Achilles,

  the quadrangle known to the procreators.

  The invention will be known by the Royal deed;

  a corpse seen hanging in the sight of the populace.

  *

  2.

  Opened by Mars Arles will not give war,

  the soldiers will be astonished by night.

  Black and white concealing indigo on land

  under the false shadow you will see traitors sounded.

  *

  3.

  After the naval victory of France,

  the people of Barcelona the Saillinons and those of Marseilles;

  the robber of gold, the anvil enclosed in the ball,

  the people of Ptolon will be party to the fraud.

  *

  Zara stopped reading. It was all for nothing. She wanted to cry, but nothing would come out. The entire thing was an elaborate hoax. There was nothing powerful or special about the book she’d discovered. It was no more than a decorative version of Les Prophecies. She quickly skipped through the rest of the pages.

  Why would my father do this to me?

  How many generations of lies?

  She was angry and swore profusely as she flicked the remaining pages with merciless speed, splintering the four hundred year old paper as though it were a pile of scrap. Zara stopped short of throwing the book in the sand and paused.

  Because this version contained the missing quatrains of Centuries VII, numbered 43-100.

  Chapter Eleven

  Zara felt a sensation crossed between dread and euphoria. Unable to let herself believe again, she was unwilling to relinquish something she’d spent her entire life working towards. She looked up into the starlight and screamed out loud. When she was finished, Zara settled down to a reverent silence and noticed a second note for her.

  It was addressed to her, handwritten and signed, Michel De Nostradamus. It was hastily written on the side of codex, next to quatrain number, 43.

  *

  As you will see, the following were much too dangerous for any one person to ever bear witness! I wrote them and then immediately removed them from Centuries VII before the damage could be done. I myself was uncertain what to make of them, but the danger in their power is obvious.

  I pray upon discovering the equation, you will know what to do with them.

  God speed,

  Michel de Nostradamus

  *

  Zara sat there in silence, contemplating what she might find once she read and studied the 58 missing quatrains. Her heart pounded in her chest and her mind begged her to look immediately, but she waited. After so many years searching, she needed a moment to grasp the enormity of what she was about to see. A strange feeling of peace arrived, as though her life’s purpose was somehow about to be revealed.

  The sensation was fleeting, and the silence soon broken.

  Destroyed with the sound of thunder cracking in the distance. Immediately followed by the stirring of a low level sand storm
. It was the same type of localized meteorological event responsible for killing more people than the desert itself. Tourists who wandered from their camps to stargaze, only to become lost in a violent sand storm. Zara chided herself for not taking more precaution. It had been a good walk, a whim. And it might just end up costing her life.

  Zara ducked down low and covered her face with her green headdress in an attempt to protect her eyes. She looked at her smartphone. GPS was unable to locate any satellites above the sand storm. She switched to her compass App and pointed it towards the camp before her camp completely disappeared. She then ducked down low and slowly braced herself for the long journey back – terrified of what she would find once she reached it.

  Rain dumped on her from a cloud carried by the fast moving winds in a way she’d never experienced in a lifetime traveling the Sahara.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me?” she said out loud. The rain drenched her clothing bringing with it a delicious reprieve from the desert’s heat and ice cold fear into her heart.

  I don’t believe the prophecy’s really coming true! Even as she thought it, she doubted herself, trusting a scientific answer would somehow explain it all.

  The wind blew Zara onto her back. She rolled on her side and quickly got to her feet again. Dipping her head low again she focused her eyes only on the compass bearing. The storm stopped as quickly as it had begun. The dry sand fought to swallow the rain. Two more sand dunes away, she saw a bright orange glow coming from the camp. She’d never seen such an intense glow anywhere in the desert before. Her mind searched for an answer, but never found a solution. Instead, her thoughts were interrupted by the distinct sound of gunfire.

  My people! They’re all going to be slaughtered!

  Zara ran towards the camp. She needed to get back there. Everything else that Nostradamus had written could have been faked, but no one on earth knew a storm would rage through the camp tonight. Her pulse raced. Not because of the effort of running, but because of what the storm meant. She recalled the warning Nostradamus had given her – Free your mind from the trappings of your beliefs – they’re about to be shattered forever.