CHAPTER 6
June 11, 2378
10:33 a.m.
My lip is swollen. My face is bruised. Oddly, I feel exhilarated as I approach the mouth of Nefertiti’s cave. Okay, it’s really called “nothing.” It’s just a lonely cave three miles, three creeks, and one waterfall from Bone Falls. Oh, I forgot, don’t go there unescorted; there are a few dangerous, sharp, craggy stones that may cut you. I don’t want you to bleed to death.
I scream at the top of my lungs, “I’m alive!” I can hear my voice reverberating, as if in an echo chamber, throughout the many adjoining hills and lonely valleys. I stare up at the heavens; I swear I witness what appears to be an optical illusion, somewhere between the burning sun and the glowing cloud figurines in the burnished sky. I rub my eyes. From a distance I witness an entity twirling like a circular pancake with intense, devilish bright lights. It looks as though it is composed of four burning wheels of fire. Torches light up the sky, darting like fireflies on anabolic drugs. I know this is crazy, but the wheeled spaceship seems to have emerged from a swirling vortex in the sky. A time portal? I rub my eyes again. I’m hallucinating, aren’t I? I must be exhausted from my trip to Bone Falls, for when I peer up again, the wheel of smoke and fire is gone.
How can you feel tired, exhausted, and drained while feeling emboldened at the same time? I glare at the rocky aperture, which looks more like a window into the universe for me. Why? Something has been awakened in my psyche.
I walk toward the opening of Nefertiti’s cave and take a deep breath. I stagger at the cusp of a large hole. “Watch where you’re going!” I say, chastising myself. After all, I just missed falling straight into what’s called Murderer’s Hole. You guessed it; rumor has it that people who commit the act of murder, dump their victims into this huge, hungry maw. I gingerly walk around the pockmarked crater. I scream as loud as I can, “Nefertiti, are you down there?” Then I laugh. As stupid as it sounds, I know for sure that I am alive, and it feels good.
It is believed that at one time, Nefertiti’s cave was flooded. After all, we had our own global warming disaster over two centuries ago. Hence we’re now the American Isles, right? Interesting, isn’t it? A planet’s catastrophes can always give its occupants pause. What do you think? I mean, Los Angeles used to be a geographical part of the old United States; suddenly it was an island, along with Stanford Isle and Malibu Isle. So we transform and evolve. The question is, what have we evolved into? “No! No! Put your hands down,” I say to myself and then laugh. “It ain’t pretty,” I add as I stare at the ancient walls of the cave. After all, caves don’t lie; people do. If you want to feel integrity, go inside a cave. You’ll find the truth; I guarantee you.
I place my hands on the wall. The cave is dry except for a small covert lake that has formed at the crest of the cavern. Strangely, water has formed on the roof of this unique underground chamber, casting a blue light throughout the rocky structure. It’s as if some mystical force is casting a special glow, giving this curious grotto a special tenor or even eloquence. I can’t help but think this is my cave. Yet someone has been here recently, and I intended to find out who.
I spit out more blood before walking inside the bat-infested cavern. Okay, you’re saying, “What?” Well, I’m a scientist, right, like good ole Ben. I came prepared with bat spray and a trusty hat that says OOPS, which stands for organic optical photometer sublimation. Anyway, these beady-eyed flying mammals have seen me before, and even the winged lucifugus is smart enough to leave an Eisenstein alone—or so I pray.
“They must be sleeping,” I say to the eerie walls, hearing a slight echo. The last time I was here, I strung cheesecloth impregnated with a very potent smell around the periphery of their nesting area. After all, these mouselike insectivores prefer isolation; they certainly would rather spread their guano unfettered.
By the way, I’ve been studying bats for a long time and have come up with the following conclusions: One, they’re content to be just bats. Two, I don’t think they have any real cuddly ideas about humans. Three, they just want to be left alone. Four—and this is important, because they are just flying rats—I can definitely say that they don’t give a rat’s ass about me. Think about it.
“Darn it! Did I just step in some…?” I kneel down, smelling fresh bat excrement. I assume maybe a few of these spooky, unhinged, vile rodents are still in the cave. At that moment, two of the most hideous creatures I’ve ever seen soar outward, screeching toward me. I shoot a bat repellant spray into the air, forcing their evacuation. I spend a few minutes shining a flashlight toward the crevices of the cave. One more extremely large flying rodent squeals shrilly across the aperture, flying only a few feet above my head.
I take a breath while walking toward the skull room. No kidding—real elongated skulls! In case you’re interested, my dad once told me that ETs have been hanging around this island for years. You gotta love it, by the way. My dad is a death machine, to be sure, but he knows everything. No kidding—everything.
“Damn! I hear footsteps!” I flick on my flashlight, turning it toward the uninvited guest. Is it the same invading interloper that I’ve been waiting for? I see a leg, followed by some rocky refuse sprawling onto the ground. A diminutive foot with big boots is followed by a small body, and a little brown face peers out of a small hole.
Whoa! The puzzling looking human shoots through the small aperture in the cave. I think it’s a girl. Her face is dirty, and her expression is incredulous but cute. We stare at each other like two people living on different planets, as if each of us is the true alien. She has a sort of surreptitious, enigmatic grin, flashing dimples that look like grooved rivulets. We just stare at each other.
She’s wearing taupe cargo shorts and large brown boots with thick gray socks that have red rims. Her eyes are the color of charcoal, and her hair is in a ponytail protruding from a hat that reads, “Red Queen” What the hell does that mean?
I slowly move closer to her. As I move in, I witness a scared young girl holding a light of some sort and a brown sack. Her eyes seem to reach out, as if she is ready to hit me with her prehistoric flashlight.
Hey, I told you guys I’m not really big on friends, or even human beings. But the creature in front of me is a girl—a girl with a very dirty face. We stare at each other for what seems like a long time, neither of us saying a word. Something then occurs to me; call it recognition of some sort.
I clear my throat. “I think I know you,” I finally utter nervously.
“No you don’t; that’s just a line!” she blurts out. “My parents only let me play with Mayan kids!”
I watch her raise her flashlight. “Damn,” I whisper. I can see she is going to hit me. There I stand, wearing my goofy OOPS hat, carrying my silly maps and a can of bat spray, looking stupid, and smelling like bat guano, while gazing into the eyes of the most beautiful girl in the world. How can I tell? Well, the girl wiped her hands over the dirt veil that was blanketing her face. Damn, she’s pretty! I muse.
All I can think of is that she looks like a miniature version of the ancient actress Angelina Jolie, with big rosy lips, dark skin, and large, mercurial black eyes.
“Your hands are bleeding,” she finally says incredulously. Yet her face seems to spell alarm. “What happened? Are you all right?”
I swallow, taking off my emblematic, rather stupid hat. My hair must have been sticking straight up; after all, I have this stupid double cowlick that tends to make me look like an idiotic, daffy duck. The nano-scale girl smirks. No, it’s more than a smirk; I think she’s laughing at me. Then she reaches into her bag and pulls out a bandage. As she walks closer to me, I sort of whiff the air, smelling her perfume. She has an eau-de-something kind of a scent. My body seems to be furnishing some sort of electromagnetic current. Translation? Damn do I think she’s hot!
As she stares at me, I can see her blackish charcoal eyes dancing, as if those incre
dulous orbs have a life of their own! Nefertiti herself had nothing on this unpretentious, puzzling Cleopatra.
“How do I know you?” I finally ask.
She wraps the bandage around me ever so tightly, patting it for good measure. Then she smiles, and I know it’s a cliché, but my heart seems to leap out of my chest. Anyway, adrenaline is flying through my body like a slap-happy monkey.
I catch a quick whiff of the smell coming from my shoes. I stare down at my feet, noticing that I’m nearly knee deep in bat guano. The girl smiles and then says, “I think you’re my neighbor!” Again she flashes that crafty little smile of hers. “You’re Michael Eisenstein, son of Benjamin Eisenstein, the scientist!” she proclaims, appearing more angry than cordial.
“Dear God,” I whisper under my breath. My dad didn’t like newcomers, one of his many distasteful values. So we tended to stay away from them. But Big Bad Ben had told me that a foreign scientist had moved in next door. He thought the family may have been Mayan.
“I’m sorry,” I say. I look at her pouting mouth and inquisitive, sparkling eyes. She looks at me skeptically.
“Of course, your family is too… um… powerful to talk to a lowly Mayan immigrant, even if my father is a prominent scientist.”
I nearly choke. I feel stupid and naive. If you want to know the truth, I don’t have a lot of experience with girls. I try to act aloof and cool, but the truth is I’m just scared to death of them. Oddly—and I do mean oddly—thoughts of my failed suicide attempt flash into my head like a crazed machine gun sputtering random shots into the air. I can still taste the blood from my skirmish at Bone Falls. There’s a really long pause. I’m too afraid to say anything, for fear of sounding stupid. Why? Because I am stupid!
“I see; so it’s true!” she exclaims, reacting to my silence.
“No, no, it’s not true,” I say anxiously.
Maya holds out her hand, “I’m Maya, and if you don’t know already, I live precisely next door to you.”
I swallow again and stare at my abstruse x463 phone. What’s that? It’s a phone that can give me the most intimate details about anyone. I’m regretting this already.
“Are you going to hologram me?” she says with a twinkle in her eye. “You don’t have to talk, you know. I must appear like a lowly servant to the great Michael Eisenstein. And why in the world are you doing surveillance on a young immigrant girl? Isn’t that a little bit extreme?”
I put my phone back in my pocket. “Sorry,” I say. “You’re right.”
I look down at my goofy guano-loaded Blather gym shoes. They’re Scottish. My mom gave them to me for my birthday. “Blather” means “to have a brazen, gossipy trash conversation.” Honestly, I think my mom wanted the shoes to serve as a conversation starter. You know, because I’m such a loser.
Maya giggles. “Your shoes look like Indiana Jones meets Prince! You can wear your stupid hat while you dance in the purple rain!”
My mouth drops. “How do you know about those two?”
Maya kind of shuffles her feet while lifting her head and nose into the air. “I’m smart!” she says. “Actually, that’s one of my hobbies; I like ancient pop culture. I think it’s cool!”
“Really?” I say. “You’re just like my mom, Monica.”
Maya smiles like a schoolgirl—which, of course, she is. “She must be very frigid,” she says.
“Yeah, she’s very… uh… interesting.”
Maya grabs my hand. “Do you want to go exploring?”
I smile sheepishly. “Sure,” I say. “Maybe, we’ll find something really rad.” By the way, the word “rad” is from the past. But to me it means revolution, aperture, and dark matter. “So you like caves?” I inquire.
Maya looks at me quizzically. She shifts her feet. “I think they’re fascinating,” she utters. She reaches down, tightening her shoe laces. “Ready!” she says, readjusting her hat. “How long have you been coming to these caves?” Maya asks innocently.
I clear my throat. I still can’t get over the fact that I’m staring at the most beautiful and intriguing girl in the world. Maya must have noticed my awkwardness, for she smiles at me, and this time she is really looking at me—really. Her dimples seem to flash in and out, winking at me, as if they’re acting independently of Maya’s will.
“What are these caves called?” Maya asks innocently.
“El Diablo,” I say. “the caves of the devil.”
Maya makes a little sound of feigned fear.
I gotta tell you. I like this girl. “These are the largest rock formations for hundreds of miles. They reach up to the sky like ancient gods!” I say awkwardly. “And just over that ridge are some of the most beautiful white sand beaches in the world!” I swallow, amazed that I was able to get that much information out.
“Hurry!” Maya whispers.
“Why?” I say, sounding like a dumb schoolboy—which, by the way, I am.
“This looks really neat,” Maya says, talking in almost inaudible tones.
I grab her outstretched hand. My heart begins palpitating like Albert Einstein before he road his light beam into outer space.
“I wonder if anyone has ever been in here before,” she says. I squeeze her hand tighter. Oh man! Modern technology could never reproduce how I was feeling—kinda like an unground electric wire.
We trudge through a series of catacomblike tunnels, hearing rushing water; the sound seemingly originates from the other side of the wall.
As I touch the surface of the cave, a bright yellowish light emanates somewhere from behind the walls. It flickers on and off, seeming to encapsulate us, as if the light itself is a friendly intruder.
“Impossible!”
“Hush! someone’s here,” Maya utters softly. We pause, peering into a lilliputian aperture. “I think we might be able to fit through the hole,” she whispers.
“I don’t see anyone,” I say. I totally resist the urge to tell her I’m looking at a full-fledged extraterrestrial. You know—just a little tease. Thankfully, I resist the urge.
“No one? Are you sure?”
“Yes, but we should be careful,” I reply. “I can feel his presence.”
“Excuse me?” Maya asks, sounding a bit annoyed.
“Because I see imprints of footsteps,” I whisper frantically. “They’re huge! Someone’s been here, and recently.”
Maya smiles cunningly. “Well, he just wants to meet us.”
“Not a good idea. Maya, we’re all alone.”
Maya forges forward, wedging her itsy-bitsy body through the dwarfish aperture. My heart is beating like a deranged, certifiably crazed drum. I remember that the Mayans were known for their ability to use rhythmic sounds on their rather exotic drums. I gulp. After all, Spanish conquistadors were known for destroying all Mayan musical instruments. Why? Because they were supposed to have come from the devil. I remember a great piece of advice my mother once gave me: “Michael, there are times when you should just keep your mouth shut!”
Anyway, I stare at the long crystal stalactites, which are pointing downward like knives. I flash my handy power-packed lithium 639 around the cave, wondering if any angry bats are lurking. I seem to remember one bat’s devilish eyes peering at me around here.
“You’re next!” Maya announces urgently.
I inhale deeply. Haven’t I had a trying enough day? I recollect my journey to Bone Falls. Life can sure change quickly, I muse.
“Is anyone coming?” I ask.
“If I saw anyone, silly, I wouldn’t have asked you to crawl through!”
Did I want to go in? Well, not really. But Maya was on the other side. Wasn’t she?
I close my eyes momentarily and then open them in time to see Maya staring right at me from the opposite side of the aperture. Her eyes appear like rapturous, hot, glowing charcoals. Let’s see—gorgeous eyes a
ttached to a more gorgeous body… wow! The choice is Maya versus the chance of running into that bloodthirsty bat!
“It’s safe,” she whispers.
Swallowing, I push my head through first, hoping my body can slither like a ductile, slithery snake past the miniscule gap in the wall. All the while, I hear a faint trickling of water emerging from the other side of the wall.
“Maybe that’s where the trespasser laid,” I quip. I hope it isn’t one of those rogue ETs left over from the exodus from the underwater city. After all, they had been seen lurking around the area.
I think of the poem by the ancient group Mind Benders… “The Watchers.”
“No, it can’t be,” I say under my breath.
“Almost through!” I hear Molly utter. She tries to help me through the tiny hole from the other side of the chinked, craggy aperture in the wall. I think of Socrates and his pupil Plato rescuing people who have been chained to the walls of a cave. I think about the intruder. Is that what he’s going to do to us?
Stop thinking Michael; it’s just not a good idea, I muse.
“Keep pushing” I hear Maya say. I think of her bravery and her unrelenting courage. Perhaps for the second time in one day, I truly believe I’m going to die.
With a thud, I somehow push my way through the chinked crevice, landing nearly headfirst on the sharp, graying, sulfate rocks. I reach up, feeling my own loathsome blood leaking like a sneering, meandering reptile down my forehead.
Dear G_d, I hope I didn’t look too clumsy. Maya doesn’t have an amused grin on her face. I wipe the dust and sooty grit off my shorts and T-shirt. Maya hands me a cloth she’s been storing in her pocket. I dab at my forehead, soaking up the reddish-brown fluid; after all, the blood from my forehead is comingling with the dirt and dust resulting from my fall. Maya hands me my OOPS hat, which has fallen clumsily to the ground.
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