Bloodline (The Forgotten Origins Trilogy)

by Tara Ellis

  “Oh man,” Chris groans after the reality of our situation sinks in. “That’s got to be around 15 miles away from here in the middle of rugged terrain. Without knowing how to get there, we could spend weeks looking for it!” Running his hands through his thick hair, he paces the small room, unable to deal with the thought that we won’t be able to stop this in time to save millions of lives.

  As I look again at the map on the black and white screen, hoping to get some sort of inspiration, it goes dark. Pushing at the power button, it won’t turn back on. “Great! Now the batteries are dead.” Rummaging through what’s left in the duffle bag, I check the front zippered pocket and thankfully find a pack of AA batteries. Slipping the back cover off the GPS unit, I feel my spirits rise.

  “I think Dad took that all into consideration,” I tell Chris as I pull out a small piece of folded up paper. I eagerly open it and read it out loud:

  “Alexis, you are almost there! Remember that incredible fishing hole we found the last time we came up here? There was that well marked deer trail across the water that we were going to go explore the next chance we got. Maybe you can do it for me. Love to you, Jacob and your mother.”

  I hand the note over to Chris, put in the new batteries and start playing with the GPS again. “Got it!” I exclaim after a bit of searching. “Dad would save the locations, and the fishing hole was the last one on here. It’s a mile away, and pretty easy to get to. I think the deer trail is going to lead us where we need to go Chris. I’m sure he’s marked it along the way. He came up here for a few days by himself the month before their trip to Egypt. This must have been why. We should be able to find it!”

  Both of us smiling now, we again have a purpose and a plan. We get all of our stuff together, dividing it up between the two backpacks. I’m happy to add the flint, knife and first aid kit. Looking over at Jake who has gone back to the cot, my smile fades. He doesn’t look well. My stomach tightens with dread and I go over to him.

  “Are you okay? Would you like a granola bar or something? You need to eat; we have a really big hike ahead of us.”

  Shaking his head, he refuses the food but accepts the water I offer. “My throat hurts Alex. A lot. And why did Dad write all those notes to you and none to me?”

  My worst fears confirmed, I put an arm around him and try not to let him see how upset I am. Chris is watching us closely, back to snuggling with Baxter. I notice that he’s feeding the dog part of his granola bar, as I try to carefully choose my words.

  “He only wrote me two other letters Jake, and they were more like riddles. I think it was only because I’m the oldest, and he thought I would have the best chance of figuring this stuff out. You know what, though? If it hadn’t been for you, I would probably still be trying to find the last hiding place!”

  He considers this carefully, and then smiles slightly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I wish he were here though, he would know how to make Mom better.”

  “Well, we’re lucky he was so smart, because he’s told us how to find some special medicine that will make everyone better. I know you understand how important that is Jake and that even though you don’t feel good, we have to leave.”

  “I guess that wasn’t medicine Mom gave me last night,” he says, wiping at his runny nose. “Do you think this other medicine Dad hid will make me better too?”

  My heart breaking, I can’t keep it together. Pulling him to me, I hold him tight so he can’t see my face, silent tears falling on his head. A warm hand on my shoulder both consoles me and also reminds me that we don’t have time. Not even for this.

  Pulling away, I wipe roughly at my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt and stand up. “Of course it’s going to make you better Jake! So we better hurry and go find it.” Seemingly satisfied with my answer, he jumps from the cot and ties on my over-sized shoes.

  As we step out into the daylight I look up through the trees and see that the sun is almost directly overhead. Almost half the day is gone and I can feel the time rapidly slipping away. With GPS in hand, I lead us out across a small meadow behind the cabin and towards the towering mountains of the Cascades.

  TWENTY THREE

  The day is warming up fast and within a few minutes I have my sweatshirt off and tied around my waist. The sky is clear and shining like a bright gem over us, contrasting with the dark thoughts that fill my head.

  We’re trying to set a fast pace, but between the terrain and Jacobs feet it’s taking longer than I would like. Everything looks different from what I remember so it’s a good thing we have the GPS or I probably wouldn’t even be able to find the fishing spot. Reaching the edge of the meadow, we scramble up a steep incline into the trees and then walk along the crest. The plan is that once we’re even with the location on the map, we can then hopefully cut across to it.

  Jacob and Baxter have wandered ahead a ways, so I take the opportunity to talk quietly with Chris about something that’s been bothering me. “I don’t understand why they would choose a skull as a piece in all of this. Isn’t that normally a symbol of death? I swear that all the other secret societies and cults out there have some sort of pyramid shape, eye or skull in its literature. It just seems…out of place.”

  “Actually, the idea of a skull representing death is relatively new, historically speaking,” he explains, surprising me that he would even know something about it. “In ancient times, it was a symbol of life or re-birth. I suspected that it would need to be placed inside a pyramid as soon as I saw it, because of Native American Legend.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yup. There are a whole bunch of various legends in different cultures about the skulls. That is part of the mystery. The one I am familiar with states that there are thirteen skulls that speak or sing. It says that there will be a time of great need and crisis for humanity. The crystal skulls will be brought together to reveal their knowledge. This is vital to the survival of the human race. Kinda hard to write all of that off as a coincidence, don’t you think?”

  “I guess that when I did my research on them, I missed that part,” I say, amazed at how so many things were connected.

  “According to a Cherokee Medicine Man, the skulls are supposed to be put in a pyramid and that when they are all arranged in a certain order; they will communicate with the corresponding planets. That, along with all the other beliefs surrounding them, makes me think that there is a mix of part truths in each culture. I think that when the pyramid was built up here, and the Khufu Bast was watching it, the Native American myths and stories grew around that.

  “Communicate with the planets,” I repeat, lost in thought. “How farfetched do you think that is now? We already know this virus is alien since it came here on a meteor. We have no idea how a civilization thousands of years ago could have had such advanced technology to create an anti-virus and these skulls. There are all sorts of theories that Egyptians have alien origins or had alien visitors. Man…this gives me the creeps.”

  “I don’t know Alex; at this point I’m willing to say that anything is possible. One of the reasons all those other groups you’re talking about incorporate pyramids into their symbolism is due to all the mystery surrounding the Egyptians. You know, it’s one of the first major cities discussed in the Bible and some great men of God came out from Egypt, including Moses.”

  This makes me stop, and he looks back at me questioningly. “I guess I didn’t know that,” I say, thinking about all the implications behind it. I wish I had read my bible now or at least paid more attention in Sunday school.

  Not sure whether I’m glad to have started this conversation or not, I hurry to catch up with Jake, not wanting to let him out of my sight. He is being very brave and not complaining, but I can tell he is getting worse. He took his pajama top off and tied it around himself, like I did my sweatshirt, but he is holding one of the sleeves in his hand to use for his nose. It’s a regular faucet, and he’s developing bags under his eyes. I talked him into eating a candy bar, but th
at’s all he’s had since last night. I’m afraid it’s all going to catch up with him soon and he won’t be able to go very far before having to be carried.

  Ticking away, ticking away…I look up again at the sun, and am dismayed to see that it’s starting its march down the other side of the sky. How can it already be past noon? Holding the GPS out in front of me, I scrutinize it for a minute. We have to be getting close. A little blinking arrow indicates our approximate location and we are in fact coming up parallel with our destination.

  “Jake! Start going down the hill to your right,” I call out.

  We all carefully make our way to the bottom and two-hundred feet further west; we encounter a stream running south. Finally, I recognize something.

  “That little waterfall! I know where we are!” Following the water downstream, I scoot past the waterfall flowing over moss-covered rocks and around a small bend. Just as I hoped, this opens up to a small cove where the water backs up against large boulders before spilling past them.

  A deep pool is created, and on the far side there is an area of trampled grass where deer obviously come on a daily basis. “There! That’s the trail!” I say excitedly, looking for the best way across the water.

  We all walk back to the bend where it’s only ten feet wide and a foot or two deep. Taking off our shoes and rolling up our pants, we wade across. The water is from high up in the mountains and ice cold, so I’m thankful we don’t have to go for a real swim.

  Baxter is overcome with excitement. He loves the water and immediately begins running up and down the stream, snapping at imaginary fish and jumping around. It takes us a few minutes to rein him in but eventually he figures out we are leaving and follows us.

  Once we reach the spot where the grass is all trampled, he goes crazy again, this time running around with his nose to the ground barking loudly. Apparently finding some fresh deer turds, he happily rolls in it like any good dog would do.

  While running away from my poop covered dog, I stumble over a small boulder strategically placed in the middle of the trail about twenty feet back from the water. Fighting off his apologetic kisses, I look a little closer at it and then smile, not minding the smell so much.

  Painted again in black ink on the rock is the vulture. “Chris, Jacob!” I call out, standing up and brushing myself off. “Look, Dad is leaving us markers. This is the way to go!”

  Relieved to have confirmation that we are going the right way, I clear out the GPS and enter the new coordinates for what will hopefully lead us to the pyramid. As it comes up, it’s clear that we are getting closer and are headed in the right general direction.

  “I think that we definitely should follow this deer trail, but watch carefully for anything that might indicate another path.” I suggest, hoping Chris will agree with me.

  “Makes sense,” he says, taking up the lead. “I’ll bet he stays consistent. We should keep an eye out for rocks that look out of place.”

  Jacob follows him and I go last since there isn’t enough room for anything other than single file. Looking back to make sure that Baxter is with us, for a moment I think I see movement from the other side of the fishing hole. Freezing, I hold my breath and watch. After a minute, I slowly breathe out and relax a little. It must have been my imagination. Turning, I jog to catch up, Baxter at my heels.

  As I reach Jacob, I realize what it was that seemed so off. While I was staring across the water, there wasn’t any other sound. No birds, no frogs…nothing. Glancing behind me again, the back of my neck tingling, I get the intense feeling that we are being watched.

  TWENTY FOUR

  We’ve been walking for hours and night is closing in on us. I shared my concerns with Chris as soon as I could without alarming Jake, but we haven’t seen anything else and Baxter seems calm. Of course, with all the other animals out here and the new, exciting smells it wouldn’t surprise me if he were thrown off a bit.

  It’s not like we have other options anyways. Our only choice right now is to keep going as fast as possible. Jake is deteriorating rapidly. Chris has been carrying him on his back for the last couple of hours and it’s taking its toll. The ground is uneven, steep in places and with logs or rocks to climb over in what seems an endless landscape.

  The last time I put my hand to his forehead, he was burning up and the glands in his neck are visibly swelling. He is draped loosely over Chris right now and I’m afraid he won’t even be able to hang on to his shoulders for much longer and will have to be carried in his arms. This will slow us down even further and the only thing driving me through this madness right now is the belief that we are about to find this blasted pyramid and wake up from our nightmare.

  We found three other markers along the way, leading us off on other smaller, even less defined paths. We’ve made decent progress in spite of the odds and my best guess is that we’re within a mile or so of our destination. Problem is it’s been a good hour since we saw any sign that we were even still on a trail, and I’m afraid we might be going the wrong way now. It’s getting hard to see the image on the GPS, so I’ve taken to shining the flashlight on it. I’m trying not to do it too much to conserve the batteries; it’s the only one we have.

  Stopping, I try to get my bearings. I’ve been leading us for awhile now, and hold up my hand to indicate to Chris what I’m doing. “What do you think?” he asks tiredly, shifting Jakes weight from one side to the other.

  “We’re close,” I assure him, looking around on the ground with the flashlight. “I don’t see any sign of that path anymore Chris. Maybe it doesn’t matter now, so long as there aren’t any ravines or big hills between here and there. Should we just try to keep going to it in a straight line?”

  “What else can we do?” He says logically.

  “I’m thirsty,” Jake moans, sliding down from Chris’s back. As his feet hit the ground, he stumbles and almost falls. Chris catches his arms and helps steady him.

  “Here,” I say, handing him the last bottle of water. As he takes it from my hand, Baxter begins to growl a warning. Startled, I direct the flashlight towards the trees he’s pointing at and gasp when a set of eyes a good six feet off the ground glow back. “Shiners!” I yell, panic washing over me.

  Chris moves so fast that I hardly register him scooping Jake up before he’s running past me, and I force myself into motion. Shadows come to life as I follow them and dodge low hanging branches, weaving through the towering trees. Darkness chases and then surrounds us, making it harder to see. Resisting the urge to look behind me, I expect to be grabbed at any second. This causes my adrenaline to surge through me and propels my legs even faster.

  Finally, I catch up to Chris, who is struggling to hold onto a terrified Jacob. He’s squirming, trying to get free and Chris is telling him to keep still. I’m about to call out to them when the tree trunk near my head suddenly explodes, sending out splinters, some of which find my face.

  Falling to the ground, I instinctively cover my head with my arms and roll away, waiting for the next bullet to find my back. When the impact doesn’t happen, I remember that I have a rifle slung over my shoulder and scramble onto my stomach. Propped on my elbows, I slide the backpack off first, and then bring the rifle around and up to my shoulder, chambering a round in the same motion. Struggling to see in the dim light, I try to distinguish the trees from other shadows and look for anything moving.

  “Alex!” Chris whispers, much closer than I would have guessed. Looking behind and to my left, I can just make out him and Jacob on the ground.

  “I’m okay!” I croak, looking quickly back in the other direction, sure someone is sneaking up on us. I wipe at something in my right eye and realize that it’s blood. Feeling my forehead, I find several cuts from the flying wood, but nothing serious. Nothing I can do about it right now.

  How did they find us? How could they have followed us or even known where we were going? Maybe Professor Hassan decided to get in on the movement early, or even more likely, the guy at the ga
s station called someone. I have a feeling things are more connected and organized than we could have ever guessed. If Mom really is a genius, than it wouldn’t have been hard for her to figure out that I wasn’t actually sick and was up to something. Especially if she saw that book. That would explain why I was allowed to go on for so long; they were just waiting for me to make this move. Feeling stupid, I scan the area in front of me with a great desire to shoot something. I hope my mom isn’t out there though, because this time I won’t be able to hesitate.

  Baxter must be guarding Jake, because he starts growling again from behind me and Chris tries to silence him. It doesn’t work though and the growling gets louder and turns into a high-pitch bark that I have never heard him make. My skin crawls as the fight-or-flight instinct in me battles it out. Finger on the trigger, I frantically search for whatever it is that Baxter sees.

  Sensing movement to my right, I start to bring my rifle around, but before I can a shot rings out, immediately answered by my dad’s 45 that Chris has. He must have missed, because the shiner steps out from behind a tree to get a better shot, but I’m ready. Taking aim for the dimly luminescent eyes, I pull the trigger and am assured by the following thud of a body hitting the ground.

  Holding the rifle in my right hand, I hook my left arm through the backpack straps and pick up the flashlight. Crawling on my stomach, I make my way over to Chris, who’s moaning. Jake is saying his name and crying, and I refuse to acknowledge what it all means.

  I quickly reach them and assess what’s happened. Chris is on his back, holding his side where blood is rapidly flowing out between his fingers. I put my left hand over his and look into his eyes. “You can’t leave me,” I say hoarsely, fighting back the tears. “We aren’t done yet.”

  Smiling slightly, he puts one of his bloodied hands on top of mine. “I don’t plan on going anywhere Tiger Eyes, but you have to keep moving. I have faith in you Alex; it’s what you are meant to do.”