Race for the Flash Stone (The Anlon Cully Chronicles Book 2)

by K Patrick Donoghue

  “Honest answer?”

  “Nothing less.”

  “Well, for starters, I think they were different from humans today,” Anlon said.

  “Come again?”

  “I think they had a highly developed ability to detect the Earth’s magnetic field. I think they could literally see it.”

  “Say what?”

  “Yeah, pretty cool, isn’t it?” Anlon smiled.

  “Talk to me. Back it up with some facts,” urged Antonio.

  Despite his friend’s skepticism, Anlon noticed Antonio scoot farther forward on the bench. His eyes locked onto Anlon’s and the cigar dangled precariously from his mouth. Anlon asked, “What do you know about cryptochromes?”

  Antonio plucked the cigar and pointed it at Anlon. “Ah! Pebbles said you’ve been blathering about cryptochromes. Haven’t the foggiest. Educate me.”

  “All right, here’s the short answer: a cryptochrome is a photosensitive enzyme that detects the blue-light portion of the light spectrum. That’s significant because magnetized objects exhibit blue light more prominently than other colors in the light spectrum, and because high concentrations of cryptochromes have been found in the eyes and brains of many organisms that interact with the Earth’s magnetic field. In fact, some researchers believe these organisms can see the magnetic field.”

  Leaning back against the boat frame, Anlon added, “By the way, cryptochromes also circulate in eyes and brains of humans, but in tiny amounts relative to organisms that interact with the magnetic field.”

  “Okay,” Antonio said. “So, what’s your theory?”

  Anlon took a deep breath. “I think it’s possible Munuorian brains and eyes contained much higher levels of cryptochromes than found in humans today, allowing them to sense the magnetic field in a way we can’t. With that sixth sense, if you will, they learned to control magnetism.”

  He paused a moment to let that sink in. Hearing no complaints, he continued. “Think of it like wind. We can’t see it, but we can feel it. We know what it can do, and over time we’ve invented ways to control it for our own purposes. Manipulating wind allowed humans to fly. We learned to capture its energy to create electricity. We devised ways to blend wind’s properties with other technology to artificially heat, cool and dry. I believe the Munuorians learned to work magnetism like we work wind.”

  By now, Antonio was pacing back and forth. “Interesting,” he said. “So, you’re not thinking hocus-pocus kind of stuff?”

  “I’m not sure what I think. I’m entirely speculating.”

  Antonio halted and turned toward Anlon. “No, I think you’re on to something. If they lived in an area with a strong magnetic field, it’s conceivable they developed an evolutionary adaptation.”

  “Precisely,” agreed Anlon, “but something caused them to lose their magnetic sixth sense. Either the magnetic field weakened dramatically or something leeched cryptochromes from their physiology. If Malinyah can be believed, it was a bit of both.”

  Folding his arms across his chest, Antonio asked, “What did she say?”

  “Well, I’m getting all this secondhand through Pebbles, although there are plenty of ancient legends that tell a similar tale. Malinyah says a giant asteroid passed very close to Earth around ten thousand years ago. Its passing influence, gravitational and magnetic, was so powerful it flipped the planet upside down as it went by. The flip ripped up the Earth, caused a massive tsunami and nearly wiped out all living things.”

  Standing at the stern, Antonio gazed at the leading edge of the sun poking over the eastern Sierras. He said, “That would definitely alter the magnetic field.”

  “Hell, yes, it would,” agreed Anlon.

  “Is it possible, though? Flipping the Earth, I mean. It sounds too sudden.”

  “I think it’s possible. It would take a planet-sized body, one with opposite polarity, but it’s possible.”

  “Jesus, how could anyone survive that?”

  Anlon said, “I don’t know, but some did. The ones who managed to survive were pretty much screwed. Earthquakes, volcanos and God knows what else rocked the planet. Animal and plant life was annilihated. There was little left in the way of food, drinkable water or shelter.

  “But this is the really amazing part. The Munuorians knew the asteroid was coming and knew it would be catastrophic. They took precautions that protected most of their own people from the initial horrors, but afterward the world had changed for them too. Their food supply was decimated and eventually disease overran their population. The irony: before they perished, they sent out ships to help other pockets of survivors start over. They loaded the boats with their bravest men and women, along with their special Stones, and went out to rescue humanity. The ‘rescuers’ were the only Munuorians to survive.”

  The doorbell rang a cheery tune, awaking Pebbles from her slumber. Startled, she trembled beneath the heavy flannel blanket and cracked one eye open. Finding only rumpled sheets on Anlon’s side of the bed, she smiled and nestled under the warm covers to drift back to sleep. Good! she thought. He can get the doorbell this time.

  A moment later, the doorbell chimed again, and this time it didn’t strike Pebbles as particularly cheery. Annoyed, she rolled over to spy the bedside clock: 10:18 a.m. That meant the caller was their UPS deliveryman, Reggie. If history was any guide, Reggie would ring the doorbell at least two more times before giving up. Pebbles covered her head with a pillow and prayed, “Come on, Anlon, answer the door.”

  The doorbell chimed for a third time and was followed immediately by several resounding raps on the door itself. With a huff, Pebbles cast aside the heavy layers and crawled out of bed. Naked and shivering, she tiptoed to the bench at the foot of the four-poster bed to pull on sweatshirt and pajama pants.

  Thus clothed, she descended the red oak staircase from the lodge’s upper floor, her forearms wrapped across her chest to assist the sweatshirt’s heating process, and called out for Anlon, but received no answer. It had been four hours since he left to meet with Antonio. Surely he should be home by now, Pebbles thought in frustration.

  On the other side of the door, Reggie timidly moved his finger to ring the bell again. He’d delivered enough packages to Anlon’s home by now to know that if more than three rings were required, it would most likely be Pebbles who answered the door. And at this time of morning, that could be dangerous!

  He was saved from a fourth attempt when Pebbles wedged open the door. Squinting into the sunlight filtering through surrounding pines, she hoarsely said, “Good morning, Reggie.”

  Chuckling, Reggie scratched at the back of his head and stared downward at the slate-covered doorstep. He said, “Sorry to wake you again, Pebbles. But you know it’s not my fault. Just following the good doctor’s instructions. He doesn’t like me leaving packages on the doorstep.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” mumbled Pebbles through an extended yawn. “Can’t you rearrange your route to come by later in the day? I mean, really. Ten in the morning is a bit early, don’t you think?”

  Reggie laughed as he reached for his handheld scanner and swiped the optical reader over the package’s shipping label. Looking back up at Pebbles, he said, “Wish I had that much control over my route! Can you sign here for me?”

  Pebbles stepped out onto the doorstep. As her bare feet met the cold slate, she shuddered. Though it was technically still summer, the temperature at six thousand feet in the Sierra Nevadas often dipped into the forties at this time of morning. After signing for the package, she stepped quickly back into the doorway and asked, “What’s it this time? Rocks again? More fungus? Or another pile of books?”

  “Um, no,” hesitated the friendly deliveryman as he turned to descend the front steps, “it’s live fish.”

  “Huh?”

  “The package. It’s some kind of live fish.”

  “What?!”

  “You probably want to open ’em up and get ’em in fresh water. They came all the way from India.”

 
Reggie skipped down the rest of the stairs and jogged to his waiting truck, unwilling to look back at the incredulous scowl on Pebbles’ face. As he mounted the truck’s steps, Pebbles heard him whisper under his breath, “Oh, man, is he gonna pay for this one!”

  Carrying the watermelon-sized box into the house, Pebbles slammed the door shut with her heel and headed toward the kitchen. The sound of her feet pounding against the bare floor planks echoed throughout the quiet house.

  She plopped the box on the center-island granite countertop and then stomped back up the stairs, muttering all the while. Climbing back under the covers, she grabbed her cell phone from the bedside table and ripped off a terse text to Anlon: “U are in SOOOO much trouble!!!”

  After a moment’s pause, she added, “Better get home fast or I’m flushing the fish!”

  Antonio watched with disapproval as Anlon dragged a strip of bacon through the sea of syrup surrounding his pancakes. Then, looking over his friend’s shoulder, he scanned the near-empty dockside diner once again. Confident that no one new had entered after they arrived, he turned back to Anlon and asked, “So you’re determined to look for more of the Stones?”

  Mouth full, Anlon nodded his answer.

  “Even though Devlin’s killer is still out there somewhere?”

  Anlon nodded again.

  “I don’t know, buddy. Seems very risky to me.”

  Pushing his plate away, Anlon stared at Antonio. “You don’t think I should continue Devlin’s work?”

  “Well, I—”

  “Did Pebbles put you up to this?”

  “Not exactly…but she is worried about you,” Antonio said.

  Anlon shook his head. “I thought you, of all people, would understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “Seriously? If you were in my shoes, you couldn’t walk away.”

  Antonio sipped his coffee, savoring the cinnamon blend, and considered his response carefully. He said, “If someone beat me like they beat you, just to get the Stones, I’m pretty sure I’d find a new hobby.”

  “Bull,” said Anlon, “and you know it!” He paused and then asked, “You’d walk away from the chance to prove historians are wrong about the rise of man? You wouldn’t want to understand the secrets behind the Stones? Learn how they were created? How we might use their technology?”

  Raising his hands in surrender, Antonio laughed. “Okay, okay. You got me there. I couldn’t walk away.”

  “Damn right you couldn’t! Besides, I don’t expect to run into Devlin’s killer or the other two yahoos who tried to steal the Stones.”

  “Oh? Why so?”

  “Look, it’s been four months and we’ve not heard nor seen anything about Margaret Corchran, Klaus Navarro or Thatcher Reynolds. They all went to ground. And I’m pretty sure I know why.”

  “Don’t get cocky,” Antonio warned. “Just because they’re fugitives doesn’t mean one of them won’t try again.”

  Anlon said, “Devlin made a map. Well, was in the process of making a map — he didn’t finish it before he was murdered. It shows where more Stones were hidden by the Munuorians.”

  “And?”

  “We know two of the bad guys, maybe all three, have a copy.”

  “So you think they’re using the map.”

  Anlon nodded.

  Scratching his head, Antonio frowned at Anlon. “Um, isn’t that a bad thing?”

  “It would be,” Anlon said, “except Devlin’s map is impossible to read.”

  Before Antonio could respond, Pebbles’ text pinged on Anlon’s phone. He read her terse message and sheepishly smiled. “Uh-oh. Time to go.”

  “Bad news?” asked Antonio, following Anlon to the cashier.

  Limping rapidly, Anlon replied, “News of the worst kind.”

  “Oh no, what’s happened?”

  “It seems I woke Pebbles, again, and she’s none too happy about it!” Anlon handed the cashier a twenty-dollar bill and they left the diner.

  Antonio struggled to keep up with Anlon’s choppy pace and called out for him to slow down. “Where are you going? The boat’s back that way.”

  Anlon forged ahead while deep in thought. Without warning, he froze and spun around to scan the dock-front row of shops and restaurants. Antonio, trailing right behind, nearly plowed him over. He reached out and grabbed Anlon’s shoulders. “Relax, man. I’m sure it’s recoverable.”

  “Oh, you don’t know Pebbles!” Anlon said. As he resumed his race-walk back toward the restaurants, Anlon described his recent onslaught of morning package deliveries — adding in the fact that Pebbles had been prematurely awoken four of the last five days.

  Just ahead, Anlon spotted the telltale, dancing-tomato signage and glanced down at his watch. Damn, he thought, the restaurant probably isn’t open yet! He motioned for Antonio to follow him to the restaurant’s door. True to his speculation, the door boasted a large plastic placard announcing Giuseppe’s was closed until eleven a.m.

  Anlon cupped his hands against the glass and peered through the restaurant’s storefront windows. Inside, he spied a few workers milling about, readying the restaurant for the expected lunch crowd.

  “You mind telling me what you’re doing?” Antonio asked.

  “Damage control.”

  It took five minutes of obnoxious door pounding before the teenaged shift manager appeared at the glass door in frayed jean shorts and a faded gray “Obey” T-shirt. He pointed at the placard with a “Can’t you read, dumbass?” scowl. Thinking quickly, Anlon turned to Antonio and asked, “You mind if I drop your name?”

  Amused and curious, Antonio said, “Be my guest.”

  Anlon successfully cajoled the surfer-dude-manager-with-man-bun to open the door and then said, “Hey, there. Sorry about banging on the door.”

  The teen scratched his belly and yawned.

  “I know you’re not open yet, but I have right here the owner of the NBA World Champion Warriors, Dr. Antonio Wallace. You’ve seen him on TV before, right? No? Come on, you must have seen him before. You know, he’s the guy who always sits courtside next to Nyla Patton?”

  It was a stretch, Anlon realized, but he hoped the manager would at least perk up at the mention of Antonio’s dazzling girlfriend and pop music icon. The teen simply yawned again, this time scratching the scruffy patch of whiskers beneath his chin.

  Undaunted, Anlon continued. “We just want carry-out. We’ll sit out here and wait.”

  “No can do, bra. Like the sign says, we open at eleven. Come back in thirty minutes and we’ll hook ya up.”

  “I’m sure Antonio will pose for a picture with you. Heck, if he likes the pizza he might just bring Nyla by the next time he’s up here!”

  With a shake of his head and a “hang loose” hand wave on his way back inside the restaurant, the manager said, “Dudes, wish I could. G-Sep finds out I opened early and he’ll tombstone my ass. The ‘Man’ said no goof-troops before eleven. Comprende? Shaka, bruddahs!”

  As the surfer-dude relocked the door and turned away, Anlon and Antonio exchanged confused looks. “Goof-troop?” Anlon asked. “Did he just insult us?”

  Antonio slapped Anlon on the back. “I think he did, bruddah! Looks like we wait.”

  CHAPTER 14

  LICHENS, ALGAE and ZEBRAFISH…OH MY!

  Incline Village, Nevada

  August 14

  Pebbles spotted a lone boat cutting toward shore and dashed out the kitchen door. Down the slate steps, across the patio and along the winding trail, she ran to the dock. As Anlon maneuvered the boat alongside, she crossed her arms and anchored a position at the pier’s edge. Though the sun had blazed away the earlier chill, it wasn’t evident in Pebbles’ eyes. Above the din of the idling motor, she shouted, “Live fish? Seriously?”

  Looping the mooring rope to its bollard, Anlon silenced the engine and replied, “Sorry! Didn’t think they’d come today. Good morning, by the way.”

  The short strands of Pebbles’ hair swirled
in a torrent. She tapped a bare foot against a weathered plank and stiffened her stance. Anlon said, “At least say good morning to Antonio.”

  Antonio stepped from the bobbing boat onto the pier and approached Pebbles with a smile. “Don’t be mad at Anlon. I’m the one who lobbied for an early start.”

  She unfolded her arms long enough to receive Antonio’s embrace, but maintained an unwavering glare at Anlon. “Don’t try to weasel out of this by distracting me, mister! Where have you two been anyway?”

  Anlon disappeared into the below-deck cabin and shouted back, “Had a lot of catching up to do.”

  Pebbles brushed past Antonio and hopped down into the boat. Turning away, Antonio meandered down the dock and whispered to the heavens, “Praying for you, buddy!”

  She stalked toward the cabin and spied Anlon huddled in the galley. As she neared the doorway, Anlon emerged with a lime-green pizza box. She immediately recognized the container and halted in midstalk. He stepped forward and said, “Peace offering?”

  Mouth agape, Pebbles blinked several times and ran her fingers over the dancing tomato emblazoned on the box.

  “It’s still nice and hot, and it’s your favorite: pumpernickel crust, jalapeños and double pepperoni,” Anlon said.

  Opening the lid to sniff the enticing blend of aromas, Pebbles stared at Anlon and said, “You remembered!”

  The previous winter, driving home from a Squaw Valley snowboarding trip, Anlon and Pebbles had stopped in Tahoe City for dinner. Famished and exhausted, Pebbles announced a craving for pizza and Anlon introduced her to Giuseppe’s Pizzeria. They hadn’t been back to the eclectic eatery since, but Pebbles still raved about their pumpernickel crust.

  “Forgive me, won’t you?” Anlon appealed as he wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek.

  “Hmmm…you’re still trying to distract me…and I’m still angry with you…but, I am a little hungry!” Pebbles said, presenting her cheek for a second kiss.

  Walking ahead of Anlon and Pebbles toward the house, Antonio whispered, “Nice save, my man!”