Set chronologically after Deadly Flashes of Silver
I awoke to the subtle rocking informing
me someone had just stepped on my houseboat. Being a little spooky
these days, my nine millimeter was in my hand before my eyes were
open. It seems like only yesterday I arrived in Miami in my homey
little travel trailer but it's been over a year since it was blown
to kingdom come. So many people have tried to kill me this year,
the gun never is far from my reach.
A knock on the hull told me it was friend,
not foe. I got up, slipped some shorts on and let Clark in. I
automatically checked on my bike, chained to the dock by a Cobra
lock. It was still there. The Cobra is the best you can buy but
this is Miami so you never really know.
Clark made himself at home by starting
the coffee. He glanced at the rumpled bed with the Smith and Wesson
on the pillow and raised an eyebrow. "You prefer sleeping
with that to women these days?"
"Less hassle," I grunted, still
not ready to accept the fact it was morning. I sat down and turned
the computer on in another automatic gesture.
"Hey, are you still sore about losing that girl to your alter
ego?"
I ignored him as I checked out my computer
for E mail for messages from my office. Lately it seemed to be
getting harder for me to maintain my two identities. One sat at
the computer now, making all the decisions it takes to keep a
large real estate and property management company solvent. As
Trevor Hamilton, chairman of the board of Hamilton Properties,
I really had little to do outside of my morning messages and decisions.
The rest of my day I spent as Trevor Cameron, boat bum, biker and
knight errant. Defender of the meek, corrector of injustices,
and big-hearted chump!
The girl to whom he referred was a Jamaican beauty I fell hard for. I had followed her to Bimini to rescue her from a platoon of Arab terrorists armed with an atomic bomb. There I learned she had gone there voluntarily and was sleeping with their leader. Then things really got hairy and I got both of us into real trouble. After getting my ass kicked all the way across the Atlantic everything worked out, the world, or at least Miami, was saved but I had little or nothing to do with it.
In other words, Trevor Cameron got himself showed up bad. So Trevor
Hamilton steps in to try and save the day. He arranges to make
the lady photographer famous. Nothing she didn't deserve, it's
just that she decided she would rather wait to meet Mr. Hamilton,
now that she was on the road to success, than to hang out with
a biker named Cameron.
So I fucked up. What little satisfaction
I got was the thought of her hanging around my Houston offices
waiting to get an audience with the elusive Hamilton.
Clark wouldn't let it lay. "Why
didn't you just tell her who you really were?"
"Because this is who I really am!"
I growled.
Lesser men would have been put off. I'm
six four in bare feet and weigh in around two twenty. Not Clark!
"This is who you are? This scruffy
creature with the scowl who hasn't shaved in three days and who
sports a scraggly moustache and goatee! Whose hair hasn't been
cut in two months? Who would rather ride that damn Harley than
attend a stockholders meeting of his own company?" He said,
referring to the stir my absence had created a few months back.
He poured me a cup of coffee and handed it to me.
"Hey, it was Daytona Bike Week!"
I protested weakly. Next year I would move the stockholders meeting
up a month to April.
"Well, I think it's time you cut
this shit out and got back to reality. You have become a danger
junkie. Otherwise you wouldn't live in this crime-ridden city.
Everyday I read about someone being shot or mugged. If that isn't
enough, you take your life into your hands every time you get
on that bike with all the tourists driving around down here."
"So? It's the same anywhere. You
don't have to stay here. If you hate it that much go back to your
Louisiana swamp!"
"Hey, I'm not worried about me!
I don't attract shit like you do. Besides, who would look out
for you?"
Clark is real bright. He is very logical
and it is very hard to argue with him when he's right. Although
he is on my payroll, he doesn't act like it. As my friend, he
is invaluable to me as my connection with the real world. He and
his roommate, Tony Miata, are the only people in Miami that know
about my dual life. Clark is an ex-pot connoisseur and dealer
I hired away from a life of crime. Tony Miata is a gruff DEA agent
who ended up being a friend. Clark and Tony hit it off so well
they became roommates. Talk about strange!
"So, what's on the agenda today,
boss. Are we working or playing?"
"Nothing on the wire that needs
attending to." I remarked, standing and stretching. "Let
me jump in the shower the we'll figure out some way to get through
the day."
A glance in the mirror told me it would
be a good idea to trim my new beard, just in case I wanted to
get served in a restaurant. I turned the shower on hot and thought
about Clark's comments. After thoroughly reviewing both identities
in my mind it was obvious I was a bit jealous of Hamilton because
I was more comfortable being Cameron, the danger junkie. The lowrider
sitting on the dock had been mine since it rolled of the showroom
floor in '82 but it had begun to take up more and more of my time.
I found the company of hard-core bikers preferable three piece
suits in the business world. Bikers are real. They tell you what
they think.
And Miami? It's beautiful and dangerous
and I love it but maybe it was time to get away for a while. I
was getting too jumpy.
"What's the date, Clark?" I
called as I got out of the shower.
"July 28th. Why?"
"You're right. I need to get out of Miami.
So you're in charge." I pulled on a pair of jeans, my high
boots and a T-shirt. I put a couple of extra jeans and shirts
in a pack, along with my raingear and leather jacket. A toilet
kit topped it off and I carried it out into the salon where Clark
was staring at me as though I had lost my mind.
"What are you doing? Where are you
going?"
"Sturgis. I'm going to Sturgis!"
He followed me out to the bike. "Where
the hell is Sturgis?"
"South Dakota."
"On this? You're going to ride this
all the way to South Dakota? On the spur of the moment?"
"Not quite spur of the moment. I've
known about it all along, I just hadn't made up my mind."
"How am I supposed to handle all
your affairs?"
"They only talk to me by computer.
You liked being Hamilton so much, keep on being him for a couple of weeks."
"What if I make the wrong decision?
It could cost you millions!"
I started the bike. "See why I like
being Cameron!" I smiled at him and cranked the bike a couple
of times to irritate the late sleeping blow-boaters down the dock,
put it in gear and rode down the dock with a wave of farewell.
I love my boat. I love my truck. But there is something about a riding a motorcycle at 80 miles an hour down a lonely highway that excites me, and a lot of other men and women, like nothing else. Some say its better than sex because you can do it all day long and into the night.
The further north and west I went, the
more my old identity slid from my shoulders. I welcomed the dirty
looks from the old men and women I passed on the freeway and waved
at the little kids who stared hungrily at me and my bike.
On the road, it's just the wind and the
road and the roar of the bike. It's music of a sort, highly addictive,
appealing only to a certain, small part of our population. While
there are a lot of part time riders, not many love it well enough
to ride day after day, mile upon mile. Facing the fickle elements
directly without the steel and glass cage to protect you is not
for everyone. The rain and sun take their toll but imbue a sense
of pride and freedom not available to the thousands of tourists
I passed on the way.
I bought a sleeping bag outside of Atlanta
and used it for a couple of nights before the smell of my sweat forced
me into a motel outside of St. Louis.
The motel was clean but the manager was a fag. His boyfriend was
partially visible through the door to their living quarters. Just
to be obstinate, I signed in with a fake name and paid cash. You
see, Cameron is my real name now, having changed it upon learning
who my father really was. Using the name, Mac Jones, turned out to
be the brightest move I had made all year.
I chained the bike to the awning despite
the objections of the manager, and brushed by him and into my
room. Barely getting my helmet off, I was asleep before I hit
the bed. I awoke still clothed. I got up and took a leak, peering
out the window to see that my bike was still there. Something
had aroused me from a sound sleep.
Then I heard it. A quiet, steady sobbing
from the room next door. A man's voice, authoritative. Demanding.
Insistent. Then pleading, then the sound of flesh striking flesh.
A sharp, high pitched scream, then more sobbing.
A domestic squabble? Husband wants sex,
his old lady wants sleep? Nothing to get involved in. The old
lady was out of line at the bar tonight. Hubby's pissed. It'll
pass. Go back to sleep, Cameron. Nothing you can do. Don't fuck
up your vacation. You're a stranger in a strange state.
Then the scream again. Plaintive, terrified,
pain being inflicted.
Call the police? Inform the wimpy, whining
manager? No one could hear it but me. They had the end room and
the motel was sparsely inhabited.
So I opened my door and knocked on theirs.
"Go the fuck away and mind your
own business, asshole!" The voice was deep and masculine.
"Help me, please," came the
terrified voice of a young girl!
I had already wasted enough time with self doubt. My size twelve boot impacted the door with all my weight behind it and twenty years of practice in dojos across the country. It splintered and flew open to reveal a naked man leaning over a young girl frantically pulling on the shreds of her dress. His hard-on was pressed against her tightly clenched thighs and in the dim light from the nightstand I could see his handprint glowing red across her pale cheeks.
She couldn't have been more than sixteen, he over fifty!
The rage consumed me! Years of training
took over and my body went into motion. In two strides I was beside
the bed. He was suddenly conscious of his nakedness and his vulnerability.
He froze. I took him off her by the hair he had left and put my
left hand around his throat. I slammed him into the wall with
enough force to knock the wind out of him. I held him with my
left and slapped him repeatedly with my right until all resistance
left his body. He dropped to the floor and I turned to the girl.
"Are you all right?"
She nodded without conviction.
"What happened here?" I asked,
irritated at sounding like a cop.
"He wanted sex. I didn't."
she said simply, looking at him with a strange look in her eyes,
as though she was just seeing him for the first time.
"You better get out of here, whoever
you are," said the man on the floor, "before I have
you arrested for breaking and entering and assault."
"I think the police will be much
more interested in you, asshole. I doubt that rape is condoned
in Missouri."
"I am the police, you idiot!"
he screamed. "There's no rape here. I was just disciplining
her. This is a private matter and no business of yours, you fucking
biker scum. I'm a St. Louis cop and you're in deep shit."
I was unimpressed. Men with badges are
just men with badges. "You always get a hard-on beating up
young girls?" She was on her feet now and looking through
a small suitcase for some clothes that weren't ripped.
When I turned to look at her, he got
up his nerve and dove across the bed. I hadn't noticed the gun
on the end table until he had it in his hand. I dove over the
bed and reached him before he could take aim. My hand grasped
the gun and I used the barrel as a lever to turn it away from
me.
The shot sounded like a cannon going
off in that small room. A surprised look crossed his face. He
looked down and saw the blood pumping from his chest. A sigh spilled
from his lips as he sunk to the floor. I stared at him, stunned
at the rapid set of events. I looked at her. She stared at his
body for a couple of seconds, then looked at me.
"We better get out of here!"
"Wait a minute. This was self defense.
He was attacking you. He pulled a gun on me!" I stammered.
"We haven't done anything wrong! Why would you want to run?
That'll only make us look guilty!"
"This guy was a cop! He was arresting
me for being a hooker. Do you really think the Saint Louis cops
are going to believe you broke down the door just to save me?
They'll hang us both! I'm a runaway with a record and you're a
biker! Get real. You just killed a cop and I'm no credible witness!
I'll go to jail as an accessory. Before they take us out of the
hotel room they'll have their version written in stone!"
She could be right. I walked over to
the door to see how much attention we had attracted. To my surprise,
there were no lights on, no people looking out the window. The
shot hadn't been heard! No one had seen or heard me kick in the
door!
I took the sheet and wiped all traces
of my fingerprints from the gun. We gathered up her small bag
and the dress he had torn off her. We closed the door as we left
the best we could. It would pass until the maid came. Quietly
we went next door to my room. I took a moment to wipe down anything
I might have touched in that room then loaded the bike and pushed
it from the parking lot.
Through it all she never said a word.
She didn't speak until St. Louis fell
behind us.
"Thank you," she said.
I didn't answer until we were out of
Missouri and into Illinois.
"You're welcome."
She didn't answer. She was asleep, sandwiched
between me and the sissy bar.
When the sun rose, I had to wake her
as we pulled into a truck stop. I gassed the bike and bought us
breakfast. She devoured hers and asked for more pancakes.
"How long has it been since you ate?"
"Days, at least."
"Where are you from?"
"Chicago." Getting information
from her was like pulling teeth.
"What were you doing in St. Louis?"
"Trying to get enough money to get
to Denver."
"Who's in Denver?"
"Nobody. I just always wanted to
see the mountains."
"Where's your family?"
"Mother's dead. Dad's a drunk. He
wasn't any better than that cop you killed."
She said it matter of factly. I winced
and looked around to see if anyone had heard. I was lucky again.
"Look. This is not the kind of thing
you discuss in public places."
"You brought it up. My dad had been
fucking me since I was twelve. I just got tired of it and came
here. That prick was my first trick. A cop. He wasn't even going
to pay me. I was so hungry. I wish he had been my dad." Then
the tears started, silently rolling down her checks.
I passed her a napkin. She used it and
looked at me. "Thank you for feeding me. You want a blow
job?"
"No, thanks." Although I felt a stirring
in my jeans. Beneath the wind blown blonde hair and smudged make
up she was a very pretty girl. Blue eyes peered through too heavily
applied mascara.
She must have read my look if not my
thoughts. "Oh, I'm a mess. Let me go clean up. I'll be right
back."
She knew already what men wanted and
was more than willing to pay for her breakfast. Suddenly I felt
a chill of fear. What if she didn't come back from the restroom?.
She was my only witness. If she disappeared and I had overlooked
some tiny bit of evidence, I could get life!
I breathed a sigh of relief when she
returned from the bathroom. She was my companion for the time
being, like it or not.
"Would you like to go to Sturgis
with me?" I asked casually. While she might be street-wise,
she couldn't know what we might be faced with if I had left any
clues.
For the first time, her smile lit up
her face. "Gee, that would be fun! But maybe you should tell me your name."
Her name was Charlotte and she was a
perfect companion. She loved riding with me, made no complaints
or demands and did not seemed compelled to talk or ask questions.
I introduced myself as Mac. Caution prevailed over honesty. I hate being dependent on anyone and
considering the circumstances under which we met, she already
had me by the balls, if she was that kind of woman!
She seemed puzzled that I didn't take
her up on her offer of sex. It was hard. She was a perfectly fine
female of the species. 36C, twenty four inch waist and a tight
little butt. I was intensely aware of her as she held on to me
in our flight across Iowa. I kept my intentions purely platonic,
despite her offer. For some reason I felt compelled to show her
not all men were like her father, which I was old enough to be, and the dick in St. Louis.
Reviewing the incident over and over in my mind in the screaming silence of the wind, I decided I had a chance to get away with it. I had been wearing a helmet and a face shield in Missouri when I checked into the motel. The manager hadn't seen my face. I had not registered under any name near mine, out of perverseness. Nor had anyone seen my Florida plate. My pack had slid down and covered it. There were no fingerprints to lead them to me. My bloodstained clothes were now ashes in an Illinois corn field. There would be a local alert for a big biker but they could not directly link me to the crime. My companion said the clerk had not seen her in the back of his squad car. The police would be looking for a single rider. We were safer together. Thus, I justified my actions.
She seemed untroubled by her near rape and witnessing the death
of a fellow human being. Was it courage or was it just another
TV show to one still evolving from the ignorant bliss of youth?
I decided she had the maturity few possess to accept the things
they could not change and the courage to live on without self-recrimination.
I liked this woman/child!
I had tried to involve no one in my adventures.
When it came down to a matter of life and death I trusted no one
with mine. Not even Clark. Tony Miata came the closest. He's DEA
and a real threat to Colombian drug lords but not to me. He's
smokes a little pot from time to time, (Agents are rarely tested)
something he and Clark have in common. While he would bust me
if I was dealing, (which I don't) he is an ally when things get
a little dirty.
He has tried to persuade me many times to pin on a badge but the biker bent to my brain won't let me do it. We cooperate only when it is to our mutual interests.
Like when DiAngelo the dealer blew up
my trailer with my girlfriend still in it. Tony gave me the information
and DiAngelo was heard of next when the Cuban gunboats blew his
boat to smithereens. DiAngelo was dead long before his boat reached
Cuba. The government saved millions of taxpayer's dollars. Tony
got a promotion and I lived through it.
So it seemed logical to me to call him
up from a phone booth in a truck stop out of Sioux City. When
he answered his private line it was with his usual, sarcastic,
raspy voice. "That you, Cameron?"
A chill ran up my spine. It wasn't a
good sign, I don't call that often!
"What is it, you got a line that
only I have the number?" I knew that wasn't true.
"Naw, I just got it off the news wires. I got orders in the computer that brings me my morning reading. It shows me all the stories in newspapers across the country that have certain key words or phrases, like Colombian, pot, cocaine, drugs and gangland murders. Recently I included biker in the criteria. Clark told me you went to Sturgis. Then I read about a detective being shot with his own gun with the only suspect being a huge, unidentified biker. No clues, no fingerprints, no witnesses. Somehow I thought about you! So why are you calling, Cameron?" he said pleasantly.
I hate it when he's pleasant.
"I just had a little information
about that very incident."
"Somehow I knew that."
"There was a witness. A girl that
this guy tried to rape. When someone kicked the door in and tried
to stop it, the guy went for his gun. There was a struggle and
the gun went off. The girl was underage, an abused runaway,"
"So how did you come upon this?"
"She ran away to me."
"Does she know the guy that saved
her?"
"Never saw him before. Doesn't know
his name." I said carefully.
"How old?"
"I'd say sixteen but I haven't asked
her. She doesn't volunteer much. " I added.
"So what are you planning on doing
with her?"
"I don't know. I'm on my way to
Sturgis as I originally planned. She was sure that the cops would
protect their own. That meant making her out to be a liar and
the guy into a murderer. I thought it was remarkable insight for
a girl so young."
"Gee, if this guy was a federal
agent, I might have some say in this but as of right now it's
just a local, state-wide manhunt. I imagine they would think that
the guy was headed for Sturgis and the cops would be out in force,
checking every one they could. Of course, with a hundred thousand
guys there answering to the vague description they have, he might
just be lucky enough to slip through. The only lead they really
have is that boot print on the door."
"Quit trying to enlist me, Tony.
It won't work. If you can't help, I'll think of something else.
They don't know about the girl and they won't if that's what it
takes. Have someone meet me in Sturgis on Monday at noon on the
southwest corner of Main and Junction and I'll let him take the
girl's statement. If that's not enough I'll let you put her on
a polygraph. Later."
"What if I just let the locals handle
it?"
"I would really feel bad about that.
I don't have that many friends."
He chuckled, "I love talking with
you, Trevor. You have such a way with words. If everyone was like
you wiretaps would be useless. So where are you now?"
"Gone." I hung up.
Dealing with Tony is a little like having
a pet rattlesnake. You have to handle it carefully and never forget
that it is dangerous.
"What now?" she asked.
"A shoe shop. These boots have gone
to hell and need new soles!"
Clark likes to say that I'm lucky. We
argue about it all the time. He says to have lived through all
the things I have is luck. I say to get in those situations in
the first place rules out everything but bad luck. I was glad
to accept his version this time. We made it through South Dakota
without getting stopped though I saw many bikes pulled over. We
barely escaped a freak storm complete with a tornado that picked
up one biker and slammed him across the highway. A little rain
and dust was the worst we endured.
We got to Sturgis on Sunday. We stayed
at a campground a few miles from town. She was fascinated by the
bikes, by the bikers and their uninhibited partying. Their shouts
of "Show us your tits!" were rewarded by a big smile
but little else. She took them in stride as she had everything
that had transpired.
The police had called in reinforcements
from neighboring states so we stayed in the campground. We slept
in our clothes but huddled together for warmth. It was getting
harder and harder to remain aloof from this mature young lady.
Her common sense, bubbly personality and unassuming nature made
her one of the best female companions I had been with since Donna
with the alabaster eyes had been killed.
We made it into town on Monday. At noon
I stood in front of the tattoo shop with a thousand bikers dressed
just like me. Many were the same height. The hunt for me had intensified
the closer I got to Sturgis. Talk on the street was about how
the cops were pulling over any and everybody for no reason. I
kept my mouth shut and talked to no one to avoid calling any more
attention than we already were.
Charlotte attracted many stares and appreciative
whistles. I could feel the envy of a hundred men. She seemed to
have blossomed when we reached the Black Hills. A more beautiful
woman would have been hard to find. I stood close and adopted
a protective stance that kept many from hitting on her. At two
minutes after twelve, a hand touched my shoulder and said softly,
"Cameron?"
I turned to see a long-haired, bearded
biker who I didn't recognize. "Do I know you?" I said
coldly, wondering whether she had heard or not.
"Tony told me to look you up when
I got to Sturgis. My name is Lou." He held out his hand.
I took it. "Listen, can I buy you and your girlfriend a cup
of coffee?"
"Sure." He led the way to Bob's
Cafe a half block down Main. He was wearing a patch of one of
the most well known bike gangs.
He led me through a darkened hallway
to a back room. the room appeared to have been unused for years
from the dust on the floor. There was no waitress. The coffee
was waiting on the table. His old buddy manner disappeared as
we sat down.
"This is highly irregular. I don't
like it at all. I've spent the last five years getting to where
I am now and Miata tells me to break cover to get the statement
of some sixteen year old girl. Who are you anyhow, Mc. . ."
"Just Mac to you, Lou!" I ordered,
breaking into his tirade. I turned to Charlotte, "Honey,
tell this man what happened to you in St. Louis. Everything that
happened up until you met me." We had discussed what she
would say. Whether or not she would go along with my plan was
yet to be seen.
"First of all, I'm seventeen."
she said defiantly.
"Shouldn't you be taping this?"
I interrupted.
"I am," he said with a glare
and tapping his Sturgis pin.
She told it all like a pro. Right up
to and including the point about the unknown biker that had rescued
her. How scared she had been when he left her there and how relieved
she was to run into me. He listened patiently and didn't say a
word until she finished. "I'll pass this information along.
I would recommend you leave Sturgis a little early. If the locals
decide you are a likely suspect you may be tied up in South Dakota
a little longer than you planned. This ought to take a little
heat off you but stay in touch with Miata,"
"No problem. I tried to step carefully
on the dust you had spread back there on the floor so you should
have a good imprint for Miata. Thanks, Lou. Maybe we'll meet again
sometime. I've got some friends out there in Oakland. I hope you
don't cross them."
His face turned pale as all the blood
rushed from it. It was a dangerous game he played. So. . . call
me cruel. The battle lines are drawn. His friends know the risks
when they cross the line and so did Lou. I have friends on both
sides so I don't take sides or help one or the other but he didn't
know that.
I didn't leave right away. A call to
Miata the next day informed me that the manager had seen a handcuffed
young girl trying to get out of the back seat of the patrol car
that night after I had rolled in. He didn't see her closely enough
to identify her but it wasn't the first time he had seen it happen
with the same cop. It seems my boot print didn't match the one
on the door so the heat was off. An internal investigation had
been launched into the affairs of the deceased
So we took a few days to go sightseeing.
Mount Rushmore, Deadwood, the Black Hills and Devils Tower. I
drove the speed limit and didn't drink to give them no reason
to question me.
By this time the question of what to
do with her was immaterial. She would ride south with me and I
would help her get settled in Houston or Miami. I had decided
to tell her my real name the next day. (Well, one of them, anyway!)
We talked about how she could get her GED and maybe start college
while she worked at a firm owned by a friend.
As we left we took a detour through Badlands
National Park. I had begun to think of her as a woman but the
sight of the wind sculpted rocks brought out the excited little
girl in her. The close proximity of her full grown body pressed
so tightly against mine had made my thoughts and intentions vacillate
wildly. I had to keep reminding myself she was still a child.
We were still in the park as the sun
set. We stopped along the side of the road and watched as the
sun created exotic shadows among the intricate shapes created
by the union of Mother Nature and Father Time. With the sunset
came a chill wind and we called it a night. I found an out-of-the-way
spot and we nestled in next to a shallow cave-like depression
in the yellow rock. I built a small fire to keep the chill away
and we spread the one sleeping bag on the sand, I pulled out the
lightweight, space age blanket I kept in my pack. I laid down
beside her and drew the covers over our clothed bodies but I couldn't
sleep. Neither could Charlotte.
In a small voice she said, "Mac?"
"Yeah," I answered.
"Know what today is, Mac?"
"No, Charlotte."
"It's my birthday, Mac! I'm a woman
today!"
Then she was in my arms, her lips on
mine and her hands were busy unbuttoning my clothes.
Much later I told her, "My name's Trevor Cameron, Charlotte."
She smiled coyly. "I know! Hamilton,
too. I went through your wallet days ago, you silly, noble darling.
I don't care what you want to call yourself. Now, maybe you can
relax and do that to me again!"
THE END
Follow the adventures of Trevor Cameron in the soon to be released novels, "One Bloody Alabaster Eye" and "Deadly Flashes of Silver" by Clayton R. Douglas.
The dry desert wind whipped my oilskin.
The damn helmet's chin strap was rubbing a raw spot on my neck
and my sunglasses did little to prevent the dust from filling
my eyes. The Harley softail was squirrely on the loose packed,
rut filled dirt road. I was alone, as usual. This mountainous,
deserted terrain is not the kind most riders, or tourists, would
take to for a Sunday ride. Even fewer on a Wednesday. Besides,
how could I explain to other bikers what I was looking for?
For the millionth time, I cursed . . . God, for putting me through
this. I wished I could just forget about my quest, lay back and
enjoy the pleasures the world had to offer. I still had my health
but my youthful, devilish good looks were lost long ago. Gray
now streaked my mustache and goatee. My hair, tied tight in a
ponytail, contained more silver than black. Still, the search
consumed me.
I was following one more obscure lead;
UFO reports in the early sixties; A demented old man in the mountains;
Indian tales of spirits in these mountains and the ancient white
man who lived forever. I had followed rumor and legend through
the rain forests of the Amazon, through the jungles surrounding
Angor
Wat, into the mountains of ancient Tiahuanaco, an island on Lake
Titicaca in Bolivia.
Revisiting the ancient sites had been
the hardest on me. In my minds eye, I could see the happy populace
at play in what had once been a resort. I could still see the
statues and arches and massive buildings as they had been. I could
see the old civilization as no one else on earth could see it!
Reality came rushing back in as the front
wheel of my Harley hit a loose rock. I fought the handlebars to
regain control and felt a small surge of pride at my mastery of
the simple machine. I should have bought a jeep but I had grown
very fond of this machine and the society within a society it
represented. I was at ease with the coarse, rough good hearted
men who lived the last free lifestyle in an increasingly oppressive
world. I have always gravitated to these kind.
Unconsciously, my fingers fondled my
stash, the hollow key chain containing the tiny pills that kept
me alive, and wondered how much longer I would continue to take
them. Maybe my time had finally come. I did not like this new
world order and the limitations it placed upon me.
I sensed that the object of my obsession
had already departed. Maybe the slogan in the sixties had been
based on fact. Maybe God really was dead!
His presence was lacking in this era. The children no longer feared
him, respected their elders or life itself. There was no honor,
no responsibility, no fear of retribution. Religion was reduced
to feeding the poor and there was no fear of God or Devil in man
anymore.
Just as well, I thought. I am tired of
the whole thing. Lucky was my nickname but luck had not been with
me in my quest.
There were still a few miles to go before
the road ran out. I thought of the rash of UFO sightings. I was
convinced that the government must have stumbled onto the secret
of the magnetic drive in its research or found an alien craft
or one of the ancient ships that once plied the skies of this
planet. The vast number of sightings had made my search far more
difficult
Until now.
Around a turn, high up in the mountains
and there was the lake I knew would have to be there. I felt a
chill run up my back.
Could this be the home of God?
I felt like Indiana Jones seeing the
Holy Grail for the first time!
Deep in the desert of Nevada, there is
a secret base which is said to house the US version of UFOs. It
is a massive structure built 16 stories under ground. Giant doors
open to allow helicopters and saucers access. I know the base
exists because I have met people who flew supplies in to it. The
place I was looking for would not be that elaborate. It would
be far off the track beaten by civilization. It would have to
have a large body of water. It would have to be high in the mountains.
It would have to be deep enough to hold the mystery that had held
mankind in its grasp for the last ten thousand years.
I parked the bike at the water's edge.
No one but a few disappointed fishermen and some four wheelers
had ever come this way. The lack of fish in this lake was one
of the reasons I was here.
The lake with no name and no fish was
about a half a mile across. I slowly walked the shoreline, watching
for something only I would see. My eye was drawn to a large rock
formation that rose from the depths of the lake. The massive rocks
reminded me of those scattered about the shores of Lake Titicaca
but
these were still rough and uncarved. The smallest of the boulders
would have weighed more than two tons. No one would have thought
of them as being moved by anything short of a volcanic eruption
but, to my eye, they appeared to have been carefully placed and
stacked. There was no natural outcropping of this
type of rock for miles.
My lifelong search was over. Here, on
the banks of a lake in a tiny mountain range in the middle of
the Mojave Desert lay the answer to mankind's greatest mystery.
I ran shaking fingers over the hairline
seams in the rocks until I found the hidden latch.. The one ton,
solid granite door swung open to reveal a staircase leading down
under the lake itself as I knew it would. The air felt cool against
my wind-burned face and I unsheathed the small maglight from my
belt. There was no cobwebs, rats and few insects, so tight was
the seal. The tunnel had been burned through solid rock and ran
fifty feet beneath the lake bed. The tunnel ended abruptly. I
directed the flashlight's beam upward and it reflected off a mirrored,
seamless metal surface with five indentations in the center.
I reached up hesitantly, all of the things
that could go wrong running through my mind. The best scenario
being that my touch would not do anything. The worst, that there
was nothing above my head but tons of mud and water, both of which
would come crashing down on my head before I could escape down
the tunnel and find the inside trigger to the stone door.
This was no time to turn back. I had
invested much more than a lifetime searching for this. I reached
up and placed my fingers in the depressions. Like magic, a tiny
circular crack appeared in the metal skin. The circle slid inward
and over. A metallic ladder slid out silently. I became aware
I had been holding my breath and inhaled deeply.
I climbed the ladder and knew instantly
I was the only living being aboard the ship. Life support was
still functioning and would continue to do so into infinity. It
had been built by a society that was not based on planned obsolescence.
I followed spotless corridors unerringly toward the control room. The dust from my windbreaker was swiftly sucked up by automatic vacuums before it hit the nonskid, soft metallic floor. The door slid open to reveal the control room. Here were the only signs of clutter I had seen since on board. A cup here, a plate there, a robe cast over a control panel that would guide the great ship no more.
The room was dimly lit by instruments. As I entered, the movement
triggered a brighter set of lights and I saw him in the corner,
leaning over a charting table. His long white hair flowed over
the edge of the table and his head rested on the book he had been
writing in.
In this sterile atmosphere there was
no decomposition. He looked as though he was merely asleep. I
half expected to see his eyes open and a smile to shine through
the snow white beard as he saw me.
Before touching him, I removed my jacket. I didn't want to soil the spotless white robes. Even in death, he was massive. It took all my strength to lift him from the chair and carry him into his cabin off the control room. Laying him in his bed, I stared at him for fully five minutes as silent tears ran down my cheeks. This was not the ending I had envisioned. I felt none of the hatred that had welled up in my soul in the past. The quest that had driven me was over. I had found my grail and but no joy or satisfaction. I had found the foundation of every legend, of every religion. I now possessed the greatest secret in the universe. I now held the key to power beyond mortal man's comprehension. I had access to knowledge forbidden man for centuries. I had won the greatest game ever played. Yet I felt nothing but emptiness and loneliness.
Returning to the control room, like misty ghosts, the almost ancestral
memories flooded my consciousness. Sit down in the throne-like
Captain's chair, touch this and the craft would rise, silently,
responsively, immediately, to an altitude above the highest satellite.
Touch there and a laser beam would carve the greatest stone into
an engraved portal. Another touch and it would be lifted, transported,
and transplanted with micro-millimeter accuracy. The same button
would part seas, smash walls and destroy cities.
I touched nothing. Instead, I walked over and sat down in the
at the seat he had died in. I opened the book he had been writing
in. The entries were a combination of pictographs and runes no
modern man had ever seen. There were no more than two or three
archeologists could have translated.
Opening the book, I read:
"I was mad once."
Only now, after so many years, can I
see clearly. I am afraid it is too late to undo all I have done.
I hope that someday someone will be able to read this chronicle
without their being blinded and prejudiced by the chain of events
1, in my madness, started.
Under the circumstances, I suppose any
man might have made the same errors, followed the same paths.
Still, I do not record this in an effort to seek forgiveness or
even pity. By the time anyone is capable of understanding, truly
understanding, the world I came from, I will have been long dead,
my bones dust,
hidden from all eyes in a tomb that contains all the knowledge
of the most advanced civilization in the world. A civilization
that died in spite of all our technological skills, all our mental
achievements.
I am not a scientist. I am an old man,
alone with my memories. My younger days were spent in the same
pursuits as most men. Women, travel, excitement. I was one of
the fortunate ones born into a world rich in the material things
so treasured by men. A world without war. The secret of near immortality
was ours.
Yet from my birth I knew the shadow of fear. A fear I did not
feel as strongly as my father and his generation because of its
ever present nearness. In fact, after adolescence, I spent my
life preparing for impending doom..
My scientific colleagues had other names for it. The celestial conjunction. The Conjunction. But the members of my crew simply called it The End. The end of the world, as we knew it. For over two hundred and fifty years everyone had known the exact day that the end would occur. It really began for me a week before the day of conjunction.
I had just left Isi, my wife, at our home to do some last minute
packing. I had one last meeting to attend at the Temple of Higher
Learning before we left. I was in no hurry. This was, quite possibly,
the last time I would be able to walk the shaded paths of the
most beautiful city on Earth. Long ago we learned to
live in harmony with nature and I breathed in the fragrance of
a hundred types of blooming flowers. I can still remember the
chattering of the monkeys and squirrels in the trees lining the
way. Through the thick growths of shrubs and flowers I could see
the vacant, desolate looking homes of my neighbors. Most of whom
had already left.
There were not more than thirty thousand
of us left on Earth.
There were our more unfortunate neighbors,
of course. I had spent over fifty years before the end trying
to educate them and prepare them for the coming holocaust but
I had been unable to convince myself we were all of the same origin,
that we were all Homo Sapiens. I imagine if their ancestors had
been the ones to discover the longevity drug five thousand years
ago instead of us, they would be the ones leaving .for the stars
today and we would be the poor frightened savages left behind
to take our chances.
I strolled by the spaceport in time to see the last of the ferries taking off with its load of colonists destined to spread the seed of mankind to the far reaches of the galaxy. A one way trip. A last grasp at the survival of the race. Up above were the gigantic interstellar liners. At two o'clock today they would activate the drives that would push them to speeds near that of light. If only we had a little more time, I feel sure that we would have learned the secret of Faster-Than-Light travel. Then it would have been possible for the colonists to turn around in the event that, after the conjunction, there was still an Earth.
But we hadn't. We couldn't take the chance of letting the ships
stay in the neighborhood of the solar system. There was no way
we could predict whether if the sun would go nova in a chain reaction.
Nobody has ever recorded the effects
of worlds in collision.
The silver ship floated gently out of
sight into the clouds. Not really sure of my feelings, I turned
my eyes toward the four mighty ships left on the empty looking
fields.
Shining, silver, circular ships. Each
of them measured over a hundred feet across. They had been jokingly
called the missionary missiles and, to my chagrin, the Chariots
of the Gods, referring to the way some of the natives deified
us.
For the last fifty years we had been
traveling all over the globe in an attempt to prepare the neighboring
peoples for the coming cataclysm. We violated five thousand years
of isolation from our fellow members of the human race. We had
been forced to endure the ridicule of the people who felt nothing
but contempt for the less advanced races our globe.
In the final analysis, we had pointed
out we could not be sure who would survive, therefore, it was
our duty to try to ensure that the knowledge we had gained would
not perish. We could not let the human race sink into savagery.
We also did quite well financially trading our technological knowledge
and assistance for a variety of agricultural products grown in
the other regions of the world.
It was a noble cause but I remember wondering
at the time if I had sacrificed the lives of my wife and crew
by choosing to remain on Earth.
My crew had volunteered to stay with
me to the end. They were in the ship now. The balance of the population
had decided to remain on their home planet and sat huddled in
their homes, held by the territorial imperative, hoping against
reason that earth would survive and in doing so, spare them.
I was counting on it also but I had the
advantage and safety of a craft that was impervious to gravity
or the elements. I had every edge our technology could give us.
Reluctantly, I tore my eyes from my ship
and walked briskly across the broad plaza separating the spaceport
and the Temple. Normally people were bustling to and fro, lovers
sitting on the park benches. Today, only two figures were on the
mile square plaza. They were setting a course to intercept me.
As they came closer, I recognized them
as the two natives that had come with us from our last trip into
Egypt. The tall, broad shouldered one we called Gil, was somewhat
of a celebrity among his people. Gabe had met him and been so
impressed that he had requested permission to bring him back.
It seems that his people thought that Gil was the one of the "Gods".
As a matter of fact, he did bear a striking resemblance to Luce
but no one had the nerve to suggest such a thing and Luce wasn't
about to admit to anything.
Gil's mind was exceptlonally quick to
grasp concepts and he had all the qualities of a born leader.
He and Gabe had become fast friends. They both appeared to be
about the same age but Gabe was two hundred and eighty while Gil
was only twenty. I was a little concerned that Gabe had let him
wander off alone this close to take off time. His companion was
his friend/servant named Enki. A short, stocky youth typical of
his race. Enki followed Gil around like a little puppy, although
he could be transformed Into a raging bull if he thought that
Gil was in danger. Near me, he always seemed to be in a state
of religious ecstasy.
Although I was running late for the meeting
I stopped and accepted the proffered pipe that Gil always carried.
He kept it filled with his personal stash and when I inhaled I
wondered if perhaps his people were keeping the best for themselves
and giving us the part they would normally throw away. Maybe they
weren't as stupid as most people liked to think. Gil faced me
with respect but with none of the awe that was prevalent in Enki's
attitude. "Captain Lord." he said after I had passed
the pipe back to him and completed the little ceremony. "I
would like to request permission to join you in the last days,
sir. I will promise not to be a hindrance and I will do my best
to be useful".
He stood straight and tall, his eyes
only an inch or two below my gaze directly, a thing that most
of the members of the backward races are unable to do. I suppose
that I do present a rather unnerving sight. My hair and beard
are long, bushy and snow white tops off at six foot four inches.
Makes me look old, wise and terrible when I am angry.
I'm not. At least I wasn't. Not back
then. That was over five thousand years ago. I was only three
hundred and thirty. I was just prematurely gray. I was still sane
and not terrible at all. . . then.
I put my hand on Gil's shoulder. Not
only did it seem like a good gesture to make, it helped to steady
me. I find it hard to believe that he could smoke that stuff all
day long still be able to stand up. Although he has not mastered
mind to mind communication, I almost felt as if he were one of
us.
"I would be delighted to have you
on board my ship, Gil". I told him.
He beamed at me and stammered his thanks.
I told him to rush back to the ship to aid Gabe and the other
"angels", as I call the ones that have earned their
wings, in the last minute loading. I braced myself as he ran back
to the ship and turned back to the meeting.
I got more than a few dirty looks from
the other Captains and Archie, the resident scientist, when I
finally entered the conference room. My best friend and co-captain,
( The only member of my crew who wasn't afraid to stand up to
me) Luce Arch, eased the tension.
"Tet Lord, the only man who would
dare to be late for the end of the world!" He said it with
a smile. It didn't get much of a laugh but it did allow me to
slide into a seat next to him quietly while everyone gave him
a dirty look for his poor taste.
Luce didn't care. He always had a smile
on his face. He and I had grown up together. I was only a year
older than him but he was one of the lucky people that would never
have a problem (not that I consider it a problem) with his hair
turning white. He sported a mustache and a goatee. He had never
married but he always seemed to have a flock of women around him
whenever we were in port. How he is able to find such beautiful
creatures among the plain, dumpy native women, I'll never know.
That's why we nick-named him, "Lucky".
Old Archibald, the chief archivist and
the last real scientist left on Earth, resumed his speech, throwing
me one last look. I tried not to look bored. I'd heard it all
before.
"Harump, I was saying, Tet, that
we are counting quite heavily on you four men,", nodding
his head to include the other three captains and their mates,"
to preserve the knowledge we have accumulated over the years.
We have known for two hundred and fifty years that the planets
Mars and Venus would approach Earth's orbit in the week to come.
We know it will be close but we do not know how to calculate exactly
how close. The resulting contact may completely destroy our world.
Escaping that, we can be sure that the ensuing upheavals may destroy
most of the sentient life on this planet. We have provided for
you and the men and women of your crew the optimum survival craft
for a collision between planets. It is your task to survive and
lead the surviving population of the world along the paths of
civilization".
His eyes scanned the table. "If
some of you should survive but your ship is lost, have been three
libraries established in structures calculated to survive the
catastrophes". He pointed out the locations in Tia, Egypt,
and the one in Asia. "It will then be up to you to make your
way there and establish yourself as the keepers of the keys to
civilization. It is hoped, of course, that with a miracle, we
will survive here, also".
"Even now the destruction has begun.
We have reports that the expected meteor shower has started. The
space station has been destroyed. I can only urge you to get to
your ships as soon as possible". We stood as one man. Old
Arch looked at us, his face struggling to retain its stern countenance.
"I hope, one day soon, we will meet again, gentlemen. Good-bye
and good luck".
He turned and was out of the room quickly.
We were out of our chairs and rushing to our respective ships.
Luce fell in step with me and explained that there had been a
little more and waved an envelope containing more detailed instructions
and suggestions.
"I think that old Archie just wanted
to say good-bye to us, the products of his brainchild". Luce
said with a thought. Archie had been the man that had started
the program.
It was late afternoon. Out of habit,
Luce and I looked up. Even in the evening light, you could see
him plainly. Mars. To the primitives, the bloody God of War. Odd
how well the name seemed to fit. The god of war bent on destroying
Earth in his battle with the planet Venus.
Venus would make her grand entry into
the ballroom of the skies (or battleground, if you prefer) from
tbe west a little later. Tonight they would both be there. Two
huge unwinking, unrelenting orbs in the midnight sky. Mars, a
bloody, glaring red. A piercing, unwavering eye bent on destruction.
Venus. Cloudy, mysterious, her gases trailing behind her like
a silvery, shimmering gown. Changing herappearance often, like
a woman. Sometimes she appeared in the skies as a serpent breathing
fire.
The night skies were indeed a wonder. Even the brightness of our own moon paled in the face of the unearthly beauty of the hurtling, celestial spheres. A beauty that masked the death and destruction that the heavenly messengers brought.
We were walking back towards my house
to pick up Isi when a sharp thought from Luce turned my eyes upwards
again. Even in the light I could see them plainly. Meteors. Eight
of them in rows of two. In perfect geometrical procession . They
were close, probably just reaching the upper reaches of the atmosphere
but in the vastness ofthe sky, theygave the illusion of a team
of firing steeds pulling Mars across the sky.
The phenomena lasted for about fifteen
seconds before the pattern deteriorated and the meteors hit the
thicker gases. Then, like a team of horses whose traces had broken,
they came rushing earthward in disorganized confusion.
The display must have been seen by the
whole northern hemisphere. I wondered what kind of explanation
the natives would have for it. The awe inspiring exhibition had
so caught our eye that we did not notice the rest of the sky for
almost a minute. Dimly, like fireworks set off in the daytime,
we began to perceive thousands of fire flecks in the afternoon
sky. We were almost hypnotized by the advance bombardment of our
planet by another until the results exploded around us.
The concussion caused by a white-hot
meteor meeting the two foot thick stone slab, the kind that covered
the huge plaza, knocked us off our feet and jarred us back to
an awareness of our danger.
Fortunately we weren't injured outside of some minor bruises from
the resulting debris.
The meteors were striking all over the
city now. We could hear the explosions as they struck houses and
the flames were already springing up in various wooded spots.
The terrified cries of the arboreal animals reached our ears.
"Get to the ship', my thought rang
out but Luce was already heading toward the spaceport at a dead
run. "Turn on the repellor field, stay inside until I get
back with Isi". I added needlessly, as I ran in the direction
of my home. Luce is the most competent of ficer I have ever known.
If there had been another ship, he would have had the command
of it.
I mentally cursed myself for leaving
Isi behind and wishing that mind to mind was effective over longer
distances when a huge meteor came screaming down to strike somewhere
ahead of me with a terrible explosion. It seemed as if a piece
of it had exploded in my brain.
I stumbled, almost fell but didn't. I kept running but there was terrible emptiness inside of my head. I knew what had happened but I would not let myself believe it until I saw the burning wreckage of our home. I refused to let myself believe that she was dead until my frantic digging in that smoldering rubble turned up a ring of hers that had been given to her by the ruler of Egypt. She had vowed never to take it off. Said it was the least she could do for a man that addressed her as a Goddess.
She hadn't. Her hand and apart of her arm was still attached to
it, burned beyond recognition as a parn of a human being.
I believe this was the point that I went
mad.
Oh, it didn't show. Not right away. The
routines of command were too strongly ingrained in me to let me
go all the way. Perhaps it would have been better if I had become
a catatonic or a screaming madman. At least, then, my crew would
have known. As it turned out, only Luce knew for sure and, in
my madness, I ruined him.
Madness and power sometimes go hand in
hand.
In a state of shock, I found my way back to the ship. Luce must
have picked up my anguished thoughts because he met me at the
ramp, cutting the repellor field just long enough to allow me
to get on board.
Gently, very gently, he took the burned,
bloody remains of my wife from me, while placating me with soothing,
calming thoughts. I didn't even sense the medic until he hit me
with a tranquilizer. I followed Luce quietly as he led me to my
cabin.
I awoke later to the unmistakable hum
of power of a scout ship in motion. I lay on my bed for a while,
keenly, agonizingly aware of the absence of my beloved Isis, who
had been a part of my life, my mind, for over fifty years. I might
have withdrawn completely into a catatonic state if Luce hadn't
come in at that particular time.
"Come on". He said, his thoughts
scathing. "You can't allow her death to affect you like this.
You have got to realize that there are going to be millions of
lives lost in this before it's all over. Regardless of the fact
that she was your wife, she is just another one of the casualties
now. You have got a full contingent
of men and women that are depending on you to get them through
this alive and to lead the survivors. Now are you going to lay
there and feel sorry for yourself or are you going to act like
a leader? If you're not, I'll take over as Captain. Somebody has
to do it".
Looking back, I can see now that he used
the words and tone that he did to shock me back into action and
sanity. It did not have quite the results that he had hoped. He
succeeded in bringing me out of my apathy but he aroused the irrational
anger in me that lasted for thousands of years.
I felt that he was conspiring to take
my ship away from me and my anger surged out at him. His deeply
tanned face paled at the vehemence of my thoughts. I don't think
he expected that kind of a reaction.
"You will not take over my ship".
I declared. "Nor will you try to undermine the crew's respect
for me. I will lead and you will follow my orders. We will survive,
but as for them," I waved my arm to indicate inhabitants
ofthe lands surrounding our country, "I could care less.
All of their lives put together could not be worth the life of
Isis".
With that I left him standing there and
strode to the Captain's chair. He followed me into the control
room and everything took on a resemblance of normality. Underneath,
the tension remained.
Luce had already instructed the navigator
to plot a westerly course for Tiahuanaco, our largest base on
the western continent. We had decided to weather the holocaust
there. It was built on one of the highest spots on Earth and was
virtually inaccessible by land. It had served us for thousands
of years as a refueling stop on our journeys across the great
ocean to obtain our meat and the immornality drug. After we learned
the secret of anti-gravity and magnetically powered flight, it
was no longer necessary to stop there for fuel but we maintained
the base as a resort, letting the natives take care of the facilities
and trading with them for the fabulous coca extract that was so
popular back home. The natives used the leaves to keep up their
energy for work in the rarefied atmosphere. Under our protection
and with our trade, they were the most advanced people on their
continent.
For the last fifty years we had been
doing quite a bit of building at Tia, strengthening the already
fantastically strong buildings in order to ensure their survival
and that of their contents, as this was the site of one of the
libraries.
When we arrived, a thunderstorm was in
progress. But what a storm! The rain came down so hard that if
it were not for our instruments we would have been unable to see
the landing field. I doubt if we could have seen the gigantic
signpost we had made to point the way to Tia for our ships coming
home over the great ocean back in the days before we had instrumentation.
The lightening flashed and crackled constantly.
The thunder could be heard inside our sound proof cabin. It sounded
as if we were under bombardment by explosive projectiles. My normally
jovial crew stared at the view screen and through the ponholes
in silence.
We hovered over Tia for a full day before the rain let up. When we landed we found the people huddled fearfully in their villages outside the base in superstitious terror. Though we did what we could to reassure them, there was nothing much we could say. They thought it was the end of the world and they were right. All we could do was walk around and try to look confident and even that backfired.
Who else but gods would be unafraid when the world was coming
to an end.
Who else?
We decided not to risk the wrath of the
natives so we hovered above the mighty stone city. That night
we were treated to a display of the forces present in the universe
that was unequaled by anything in our five thousand years of recorded
history. May no one ever be forced to witness such a spectacle
again.
The clouds had dissipated, leaving the
sky a dark black that looked like night. But the blackness was
only a background for a display of power and beauty that even
the natives risked the occasional meteors to watch the battle
of the Gods.
The upper reaches of the atmosphere were
being wrenched and distorted by the forces of the two Planets
bearing down on us. They had caused an Aurora Borealis effect
that sent streams of blues, purples, reds and yellows shooting
across the skies.
The tensions running through the crew
at the mounting gulf between the popular Luce and I were momentarily
set aside to watch the display of cosmic forces.
Bloody, desolate, vengeful Mars dominated one side of the sky
and claimed it as his own. So close was the planet that we could
make out its canal like markings, giving it the appearance of
a scarred, battle tested warrior.
On the other side of the sky was the
beautiful planet of Venus. Mysterious behind her veils of bluegreen
gases letting them trail behind her regally, covering millions
of square miles. The flickering, colorful skies were only a small
part of the two planets effect upon our atmosphere. Though the
clouds had dissipated, the lightning bolts still crackled and
crashed across the brilliant battlefield of the sky.
Ball lightning floated across our field of vision. All personnel were confined to the ship by my orders and al I were crowded into the control room to watch the spectacle. We could tell from the glow around the ports that the exterior of the ship was bathed in a brilliant, blue fire caused by the charged atmosphere. We could see some of the blue, crackling balls bouncing around the ground. I knew that the natives were terrified and that we would have hell trying to convince them afterwards that we were not in league with the terrible "Gods" that were fighting with terrible weapons of fire.
If there was an afterwards.
Everyone was tense and thought shields
prevailed. No one wanted the others to know just how scared they
were. Of course, that added to the tension and the feelings of
hostility that was growing between Luce and myself.
The communications of ficer brought me
a message. I read it out loud although I realized it was a bad
time to inflict bad news on the crew, but if I hadn't, the grapevine
would have spread the news in less than an hour.
"Scout ship number four has been
disabled. Capitain Osiris was torn to pieces and most of his crew
killed in their efforts to aid the natives of two major cities
near Egypt. The natives blamed them for the disturbances. The
last of the survivors activated the self-destruct mechanism out
of anger. Both Sodom and Gomorroh were destroyed in the blast.
As far as we know there were no survivors, either in the ships
complement or the native population". I could feel their
shock in spite of their shielding. I knew that my anger at the
ignorance of the people we were trying to help was shared by more
than a few.
"From now on," I said, my voice
tight, "there will be no more intermingling with the natives.
All contact will be supervised and will require my order as well
as maximum security precautions."
I felt Luce's irritation and Gil's uneasiness.
Luce spoke up as I knew he would.
"We are assigned to aid these people,
Tet. We can't allow one incident like that to destroy the rapport
we've worked for the last fifty years to build. We walked among
them for years. They trust us!"
"No more! Such rapport has cost
the lives and may endanger the knowledge contained in this ship".
I answered in sonorous tones that conveyed the finality of my
decision.
Luce subsided but I knew that he would
not readily yield to my authority if he disageed with my decision.
He was far too intelligent to obey orders without question. I
began to consider him a threat.
Gil and Enki retired to their cabin,
trying to stay out of the way. I knew he had made many contacts
with the natives on many continents. One he had even given instructions
on how to build a boat which would carry his family and local
fauna to safety should the seas rise.
We maintained our position over the mighty
mountains until the next day. By that time the tremors had begun.
High above the tallest pinnacle, we saw mighty rocks that we had
carved with our lasers, tossed about like pebbles. We saw the
buildings and monument constructed so lovingly with our tractor
beams, shaken until they collapsed like an anthill under a boot.
The planets seemed to fill the entire
sky now. We knew that we would know soon if the world was to survive.
The waiting, the unending lightning and crashing thunder had set
our nerves on edge. It was then that we got the message from Archibald
at home.
With all of the free electricity in the
air, it was almost impossible for us to hear the garbled message
in its entirety, but we managed to grasp the terrible implications.
"...earthqua... loosened the founda . . . continent is. .
.crumbling. . .water. . .everywhe. . .help us...coming apart..."
I snapped orders at the pilot and we
headed back home at top speed. It took us only two hours to get
back. In that time we also heard the last transmission of the
scout ship number two from the northern reaches.
"..have been hit by meteor too large
for the force field to handle. Will sit down among the natives,
those of us that are still alive. The Asgard is almost totally
destroyed. Captain Odin is injured. We have not been able to save
the library. Good luck to the rest of . . .!"
Two ships gone and the worst not even
on us yet. My madness grew. I blamed the natives for the loss
of the ships just as they blamed us for the destruction of their
world. If I had not been mad at this time, the very sight that
met our eyes as we hovered over our home would have driven me
over the brink.
The very rock on which our homes and
factories were built was buckling and boiling like a heated mud
bath. The homes were no longer visible. The ocean that surrounded
our land was lapping at landmarks that had once been hundreds
of miles from the sea. Waves a hundred feet high were devouring
our mountains and fields. The Temple had succumbed to the ravenous
water in the three hours that it had taken us to get there. A
thousand years of knowledge had died with Archie.
Within the next twenty hours we saw the death throws of the mightiest
nation on Earth until, beneath us, all that could be seen where
our proud people had lived and worked was the terrible raging
ocean.
The End was upon us. In a little less
than a day, Atlantis had sunk beneath the waves.
The next day brought us the news of our remaining companionship. A mile above the surface they had been hit by a tidal wave and forced to land.
Communications were broken; We hoped
beyond hope that the ship might still be intact and the knowledge
it contained, safe.
It is impossible for the mind of man
to cope with catastrophes of the magnitude that we witnessed:
the burning sky, as tons of flammable material poured on the Earth
from Mars; the walls of water that covered over three quarters
of the land masses, including the tallest mountains on Earth that
happened to be on the side pointing at Venus; the horrible roaring
of the wind and tortured Earth as the magnetic fields of the three
planets met.
The Earth ' s rotation ground to a halt,
stopped by gravitaional forces beyond our wildest imagination.
To us it appeared that the sun had stopped in its path.
When it finally started again it was going in the wrong direction...
from East to West.
The Earth tilted on its axis causing
the temperate northern climate to freeze over, killing our herds
of mammoths and wiping out the fields where we grew the immortality
drug. Yet we survived.
We watched the rains come. Almost as
if the tortured Earth was trying to cleanse itself after the battle.
After the rains stopped we found that we were not alone.
So tenacious is the thing called life, that not even the collision
of planets can destroy it. In Egypt, people and buildings that
we had helped to erect, survived. We let Gil off near there. He
was a natural leader as I have said and he took full advantage
of his trip with the "Gods" to establish his prestige
and leadership. Luce was quite proud of King Gilgamesh.
I will not elaborate on the final showdown between Luce and I. I fear that my rejection of him and the long feud we carried on, even after I had forced him and his followers out of the ship, caused his name to be tarnished, his record of service to be blackened. It was so needless, too.
There were enough people left, and we had enough of the longevity
drug to watch the natives multiply, that we could have shared
the world and our theories. Maybe his way would have been better.
I don't know now. I was so sure once.
But, I was mad. I let the natives convince me that I was a god
and I forced them to address me as such.
And I, the Lord...God...threw the Rebellious
Angel, Lucifer Arch, down to the hell that was Earth, forever
banning him from my ship, Heaven.
I gave the people commands. No longer
did I suggest. If they did not do as I said, I simply destroyed
them. My "Angels" were blood stained demons.
The years passed and so did the lives
of my faithful angels. I let some of the more advanced natives
have access to the immortality drug in reward for the loyalty,
but none had the will to live forever.
Soon, they too were gone.
Because the people thought that only
Gods could work miracles they never developed the latent powers
of their minds and I was lonely. I knew that Luce was somewhere
on Earth trying to convince the natives that I was a false god.
In my clearer moments, I wished him luck.
So much time has passed. Venus came by
once more, before she settled into a safe orbit, as did Mars but
they did not come as close and did little damage.
Once upon a time, I could see what I had done and felt I must
make one last try to set things straight.
I found a beautiful woman in whose veins
ran the blood of the Atlantean and, though married was yet a virgin.
I abducted her and utilized my sperm to impregnate her. I let
her bring my only begotten son into the world. Though I talked
with him often and through him, let the people feel the love I
once had for them, they were still barbarians. They killed him.
I tried to save him with every advanced piece of medical knowledge
at my disposal. I succeeded in only in reviving him momentarily.
He died soon after from the severity of his wounds.
I could take it no longer. From afar,
I watched the slow evolution of mankind. I no longer communicated
with them nor cared.
For the last 2000 years I have been lost
in madness. A hundred years ago I landed here in my final resting
place. Sometimes I go out to walk in the sunshine but the last
person I saw was from a tribe of red savages not much different
than the natives who had lived arond Lake Titicaca.
I have stopped taking the drug that prolongs
my life. Age has caught up with me. I find myself thinking more
and more of my friend Lucifer the Lucky and wonder if he still
walks the Earth. He cared more for mankind than I ever did. I
wonder if he ever thinks of me? I wonder if he can ever forgive
me?
I'm sorry, Luce!"
The passage ended. I closed the book
and sat in silence.
Lucifer had returned to Heaven. The Lord
and his angels were dead and the fallen Angel had returned to
claim his birthright. God was dead and the "evil one"
reigns unchecked on Earth. Ha. Men still seek to demonize that
which they do not understand.
I really could take over. The mightiest
armies on earth would bow to the power of Heaven. Heaven would
respond to my touch. With the aid of my pills, I could live the
next ten thousand years as a God instead of a mortal. I could
live the rest of my life isolated by power, slowly going mad as
my old friend had.
I slid into my duster as I silently said
good-bye to my friend and enemy, Tetragrammaton Lord Jehovah.
He would remain here forever. I would not return unless the world
ended once more. Even then, I am not sure I would make the same
choice we had before. My future no longer lay in the past.
"I forgive you, Tet," I told
him, my voice echoing in the great ship's empty chambers.
The mighty stone door sealed itself behind
me. I cranked the Harley and rode toward the setting sun.
Unconsciously, I hummed my favorite Rolling
Stones tune into the wind.
"Please allow me to introduce myself,
I'm a man of wealth and taste. Been around for many long years.
Laid many a man's soul to waste"
END
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