The Sinner King: Book of Fire

by D. R. Crislip

  I quickly descended the rope ladder. I wasn't thinking any more, just acting. There was no knowing how much time I had before the two smokers returned. My mission was to document everything and bring back evidence. I needed to prove that the excavation was continuing, that Americans were there, and that Dr. Theoman was right about the hill.

  The chamber was truly massive. It must have been close to eight hundred square feet. The walls were made of stone and there were several pillars serving as support. There were large halogen lamps on stands that were turned off, and a train of tightly bound cords that led from each light and into both tunnels. Which way was in and which was out, I couldn't discern. What I did know was that I needed to pick a tunnel and get moving before the smokers returned. My eyes bounced between the tunnel in front of me, which seemed to descend, and the one to the right, which seemed to ascend. I chose to go down.

  As I moved closer to the wall I noticed there was something on it—something unusual. It wasn't noticeable at first because of how dim the room was lit, but covering the rough textured walls were faded paintings that wrapped from one corner of the room and all the way around in one continuous panoramic view. I had to step away so that I could take in the entire sight, and to my surprise, the paintings appeared to be an odd depiction of what could only be described as the Genesis scene—which if you don't know, it marks the creation of Earth and everything inside.

  The artistry was somewhat crude in design—there was a lack of depth with color and everything was geometric in shape along with the animals and people, but the artist was skilled enough to throw off my ability to date what century it might have been from. The figures were more detailed than common cave art but less realistic than anything considered modern.

  It wasn't tough deciding where the composition began and ended. There were several renderings of what looked like Earth during the seven days of creation, each had what appeared to be God above them, except for the last. The first was focused on a sphere surrounded by stars. The second showed water and clouds. The third showed what scientists referred to as Pangea: a super continent of land. The fourth rendering showed Earth split into fourths, each with its own season. The fifth had birds and sea creatures. The sixth rendering was of land animals, including humans. And the seventh rendering, and by far the most interesting, showed what appeared to be God on Earth radiating energy to all things previously created. God was also portrayed in human form, which wasn't surprising since religion claimed that humans were created in God's likeness.

  Rebecca, I'm giving special attention to this because it will have a deeper meaning later.

  I took many photos of the paintings but more so with the last rendering. It was then that I noticed something beneath the paintings. With each flash, the texture of the wall became more prominent. There was something about the grooves that made me take a closer look—and that was when the real surprise came. It turned out that the rough texture making up the wall wasn't natural grooves in the stone, but carved out letters and words.

  "What the hell?" I said to myself. Those odd shaped words ran from floor to ceiling. They were paired up into three-foot columns that easily carried 50 or so lines, which held roughly 10 words, making 500 words per column and approximately 60,000 words total in the room. I had never seen anything like it.

  I took close-up photos of the writing but couldn't decipher any of the words. With that said, for some reason or another, the language looked strangely familiar. The letters resembled several different languages combined into one: Sanskrit, Ancient Greek and Hebrew. And oddly enough, I felt like I should have been able to read it.

  I then realized I was spending too much time examining the room and rushed for the downward stairwell. It was long and narrow. Its ceiling came to a peak just above my head and appeared to be more hastily carved than the previous chamber. The walk down was made up of sixty or so tight quartered steps. At the bottom I turned back and snapped off some photos of it before peering around the corner to see what was next:

  Another chamber.

  Like the first one, this chamber had two tunnels. The room was one and a half times larger than the previous and was equally dimly lit. And like the first chamber, there were additional lights set up with cords running through as well as paintings covering an abundance of carved out words on the walls. But unlike the first one, the paintings and the carvings appeared to be in very poor condition. They looked as if something had been scraping at the surface and worn away the message.

  I was moving in to take a closer look when suddenly a loud hammering came ratcheting through. The sound, which was amplified by the stone walls, was damn near deafening. I had to cover my ears before they started to bleed. It was obvious that a jackhammer crew was close by.

  I waited until they stopped before turning on the lights positioned in front of each wall. The scars on the walls were more prominent now. But what staggered me was that they looked like fresh gashes. On the ground were piles of little rock bits and pigmented stone. All four walls were recently defaced. There were only remnants of what story was once depicted. Who and why would someone do something like that, was all I could think about.

  I took photos and examined all the walls. The characters were in horrible shape and not easily visible. There was no doubt that whatever story was being told in those rooms was incredibly extensive. I assumed that the paintings were a visual representation of the story underneath. It was imperative to record as much of the writing as possible so that someone from Project Renew Our History could potentially identify the language and make a translation. Then I heard a guy shouting down the tunnel to my right: "Hold on! Hold on! The damn thing is beginning to crumble."

  "You need to switch points?" shouted another man.

  "No! Just call it in, see where they are on the other side."

  I heard footsteps quickly closing in on my position. It sounded like they were coming up a stairwell. Anxiety washed over me as I told myself there was nothing to do but play it cool—just pretend to belong there. I continued to take photos and pulled out my notebook in order to write down some of the words etched into the wall.

  The footsteps came to a halt behind me and I could feel the presence of another. There was a radio squawk followed by a scratchy voice calling out through the speaker: "This is base."

  "Yeah base this is Beta team," the man behind me called back, his voice echoing, "how far is Alpha team, over?" I turned around and saw him looking at me curiously.

  "How ya doin?" I said, trying to sound as casual as possible. The worker nodded and held his radio close by his ear. He was wearing heavy-duty earplugs.

  The radio squawked again, even louder this time. "Alpha has cleared the archway and is now breaking the blockage, over." As if on cue, I heard the rumbling and ratcheting of another jackhammer off in the distance. The man holding the radio grunted and holstered it. He didn't say a word and returned down the stairs. I released the long stretch of air I was holding and thanked my lucky stars.

  Early in my career I learned that pretending to belong was the best way to go unnoticed. People didn't question their own. It was a trick that kept me alive in Iraq while living undercover. It served me then just as it served me there.

  The room echoed again with the two men talking. One said something about being in there for four hours and having white fingers. The other offered to take over. I needed to go where they were working and see if there was more of the writing and paintings. I needed to see if there was any indication that the Book of Thoth was there. At the same time, I was nervous that they would begin hammering again and wreck my eardrums.

  The flight of stairs was long and narrow like the previous ones. There was another archway at the bottom that led out into another chamber: where the two (I'll call them miners since that seemed to be what they were doing) were setting up the machine with handlebars, carrying a large jackhammer up against what looked like a cave in. There were large and small rocks piled to the ceiling as well as
dirt and clay making up the mortar between them. Half of the pile up was busted and laying in heaps along the ground. There were round steel beams with metal plates on both ends, running from ground to ceiling, giving extra support in case the carved out structure became unstable. All of the walls were defaced remnants of paintings and carvings, like the previous chamber.

  "Eh!" the miner with the jackhammer shouted at me after noticing my arrival. "What are you doing here?"

  The other man, the one I saw at the previous chamber, turned to look at me as well. He had a metal chisel in hand and appeared to be sizing up a spot on the wall.

  I pointed at the paintings and said: "What happened to these? I was sent here to document these paintings. Are you guys removing them?"

  "Yeah!" the man with the jackhammer shouted. "Why the hell else would we be in here? You have ear plugs?" he asked and then patted his giant jackhammer.

  "No, I don't. Did you scratch out the paintings in the previous chamber as well?"

  The man with the chisel looked almost guilty. "I was told too. That's why we're here isn't it?"

  I was shocked. Those men came all the way there from The States, not to discover the chambers inside the hill, but to ruin them? I had to play along, as if I knew what he was talking about. "Yeah, I guess so; I just didn't know you guys had made so much progress. I was ordered to document everything before you defaced them."

  "Well gee, I'm sorry; no one said anything to me about it. Alfonso and I were ordered to scrape off the paintings and smooth out the writing. I don't know anything about anything else."

  The other miner impatiently began to shift his weight. "Hey look, you're going to need to get out so we can continue. Without earplugs your fucking ears will be bleeding once I start this bad mother! God damn noise is loud as shit!"

  I took heed to his warning. "Can you give me three minutes? I just need to take some pictures and then I'm out."

  "Yeah! Three minutes though. We got a lot of rock to cut!" he said and smacked the pile of rubble twice.

  I couldn't believe what they were doing. If anyone from the historical society knew what was going on inside of there, they probably would have keeled over. Who had ever heard of crews being ordered to destroy ancient cave art and writing? It was ludicrous. I took photos of the two workers and the progress they had made.

  "You done!" the miner with the jackhammer shouted. "We need to keep moving you know!"

  I gave him the thumbs up and looked toward the other tunnel that I had yet to explore.

  "Wait!" the second miner shouted. "You know that leads to a dead end right!?"

  "Yeah," I lied, "but there's another chamber with paintings right?"

  The miner nodded. "Not anymore," the man shouted. "We cleared that room already. There's nothing to see. You'll have to go back the way you came! All the way to the top!"

  "Perfect!" I shouted and quickly walked back to the set of stairs. I was growing anxious to leave. Nothing was as it appeared. In a world where people were racing to make discoveries, these guys were there to erase them. It made no sense and it was very clear that the people responsible for Dr. Theoman's murder were involved. Maybe Dohlman was right, that the academic world didn't want these startling new revelations released. Maybe they really were protecting their life long work. It sounded ridiculous in my head but who would have thought those guys were there to destroy the place.

  The photos I took were enough evidence to prove that Dr. Theoman's theory was right and that his murder was indeed linked to something much larger than what first appeared. The only thing that was keeping me from leaving was the nagging notion that I could still find the Book of Thoth—that and the two unhappy smokers I stole the gear from. They were back—and talking to a third guy, a black guy with large forearms and a beer gut.

  "I'm telling you man, we left them right fucking there beside the hole. Someone"—the heavier guy suddenly stopped and took notice of me—"who's that?"

  The thinner man next to him turned and looked too. "I dunno."

  The Popeye armed black man folded his massive guns onto his stomach and tilted his head back. "Who are you?"

  "I'm Will. I was sent down here to take photos of the paintings."

  The black man's eyes shrunk to narrow slits. "HQ didn't mention any photographer coming down here. Who sent you?"

  I was screwed. I didn't have anything to give him, the only thing I knew was the name of—"I was sent in with Alpha team. I've been making my way around. Check with Alfonso back there." I held my breath as I waited for my lie to sink or sail.

  "Alfonso? He's on my team," the black Popeye declared.

  "Right, I know." I laughed and shook my head. "I've got work to do guys."

  The three men looked at each other and the black Popeye began reprimanding them again. "Well you never should have taken them off in the first place. It's probably someone teaching you two knuckleheads a lesson in responsibility."

  I left the three men and walked past the rope ladder and into the tunnel that led upwards. It wasn't until I reached the narrow stairwell that I began to breathe again. I was sure I was toast back there. The stairwell took me up another flight and was steeper than the others. I felt like I was climbing a ladder more than a set of stairs. When I reached the top, the tunnel grew taller but continued on for about twenty yards and then ended with another stairwell leading downward.

  That's odd, I thought. Then the loud thundering sound of a jackhammer came ripping toward me from ahead. It was loud, real loud. Whoever was doing the breaking must have been at the end of the stairwell going downward. In-between the jackhammer's ratcheting I could hear voices calling out to each other. I decided to continue down the tunnel with my ears covered. I walked for about ten yards before seeing something that screamed out to me.

  Painted on the wall to my left was a large tree. In front of it was a snake. It stopped me cold in my tracks. The artistry was related to the first chamber with the only difference being the colors, which were a little more vibrant and the shapes of the figures were a little softer. I'll never pretend to be an expert on analyzing paintings but it appeared to me that whoever did this painting was not the same person that did the others. Plus there were no carvings underneath. I found no words at all.

  The jackhammer continued.

  I pulled out my camera and snapped some photos of the painting while contemplating its meaning. I knew if I were right then someone created it after the original was finished, but why? There was nothing really special about it. The snake, which might have been a rattler, appeared to be defending the fruit tree. The shape of the tree was a little peculiar, it had some curvatures that resembled—and then it hit me:

  The tree was painted to resemble a woman.

  The jackhammer suddenly stopped.

  I scratched my head in bewilderment and wished I had an expert with me. What did a snake and a female shaped tree have to do with anything? There was no way for me to know. It was entirely too cryptic.

  I looked down the hall and wondered what was at the end of the other stairwell. I could hear a group of guys debating whether or not to switch to their pickaxes in order to avoid causing another cave-in.

  "Forget that! Keep breaking!" a voice shouted. "We're almost done anyway!"

  When I arrived at the bottom of the stairs I found three men, one super skinny and two larger ones, standing at a dead end that appeared to be a cave-in. The skinny one pointed towards the pile of rubble as if he was gesturing through it. "Any idea how close they are!"

  "Real close!" one of the larger guys shouted. "I was just on the radio with B-team. They were wondering the same thing about us. HQ told them just a few more yards."

  "No shit!" the other large man said and then turned to the skinny one. "You see, a few more yards! Quit your complaining and let's push through. We're almost done!"

  Quietly, I hustled back up the stairwell. Their work would be done soon, they had said—meaning that everything that was once in those rooms had b
een removed, which meant that there was nothing left for me to do but to get out.

  As I passed the painting of the tree again something still didn't feel right—intuitively, physically, and quite literally. I had ran my hand along the wall and noticed that the rough inconsistency of the tunnel became smooth and more consistent on the space around the tree. I reexamined the wall around the tree for some kind of sign—something to give me hope. For some unexplainable reason I knew the tree meant something—but what?

  As I examined further I was sure that the wall behind the tree was not like the rest making up the tunnel. It was definitely unique. Instead of looking like carved rock, it looked more like stacked stone. I tried pushing on the wall and felt it give slightly. Then an explanation suddenly dawned on me: the snake was protecting the tree. It didn't want anyone to have access to its fruit. The snake was protecting something behind the wall. I gave the wall another push and it gave a little more. My heart began thumping harder as adrenaline rushed through my veins. I shoved harder once again and the wall bent slightly, but not enough. I then came up with the idea of bracing myself against the other side of the tunnel and kicking the wall with all of my strength. I braced my back against the stone wall—and then hesitated. What if the ceiling collapsed? There had been signs of cave-ins all along those tunnels. Maybe knocking down a faux wall wasn't such a swell idea. But being so close to what could be an answer to the bizarre quest, I couldn't just let it end there. Besides, it would only have been a short matter of time before the excavation crew found the hidden chamber. On that thought I placed my feet on the wall and heaved my back against the other, pushing with all my might. The faux wall bowed inward and began to crumble. I pulled my legs out and stepped aside as the stone blocks slowly shifted. The weight of the top blocks caused the middle ones to slide further and further until the first one completely dropped out. Then the whole damn wall came crashing down with strong force and a deafening roar. A thick cloud of dust kicked up all around.