From the Belly of the Goat

by Donald Armfield

  Copyright © 2020 Donald Armfield

  Cover Design © 2020 Justin T. Coons

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher. Permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  ISBN: 9798633533316

  Massachusetts - Pennsylvania

  Acknowledgments

  Ancient Giraffe Experiment originally appeared in Dynatox Ministries (2016)

  Thanks to all the friends and family who helped make this book possible.

  You all rock!

  CONTENTS

  Ancient Giraffe Experiment …. 2

  Guardians of Cedar Hills …. 21

  Golem Sanctuary …. 41

  A Womb for Her Baby …. 87

  From the Belly of the Goat …. 134

  About Author …. 160

  About Cover Artist …. 161

  Other Books from Author …. 162

  Ancient

  Giraffe

  Experiment

  During the Apollo 16 launch in 1972, an additional flight went top secret. Apollo 16 ½. Two highly-trained chimpanzees were shot into space and landed on the moon a few miles west from Copemicus Crater. The terrain was described in the mission log (from Apollo 16 ½ : Day 2):

  “Dense Visibility! Some kind of green mist has erupted out of an unknown source, holding still like a painted cloud in open space.”

  When the commander module pilot was asked what else he could see, the chimp replied in text, “We are already heading back. It's strange though. The gas cloud is in the shape of what looks like a giraffe skull.

  The chimps of Apollo 16 ½ were equipped with some new state-of-the-art goggles that could see through mist. Affixed to their heads was a video recorder that would record in three-minute intervals and, save the videos on a built-in chip for later viewing. In the time spent within the mist, the chimpanzees collected some interesting footage. The preserved remains of a giraffe's bone structure.

  Telling the chimps to retreat came to nothing. The chimps and the mission were considered unsuccessful.

  Ancient studies from unknown sources were later translated into simple terms; giraffe ancestors “bend the throttle” taking their flight to the moon, when a great storm arose from the oceans. NASA believed that this could be the escaped ancestors of the even-toed ungulate mammals.

  The team at NASA who created the video recorder for the chimps were able to connect to the computer chip in the recorder and view the footage collected. The team documented their viewing of the recorded footage from the chimp's headgear. The footage and documents were later pulled from their possession and hidden from further viewing. The team was told to keep quiet, which they did.

  Research and further analysis lead to decision to dispatch a new team of recruits. This time NASA decided to send humans to explore the area. The hidden footage and documents were released only to the new team. The unexplained events of the video footage and what happen to the chimps were odd, indeed. An explanation to this odd finding was the main objective and maybe more discoveries would be the answer.

  Team Ancient Giraffe Experiment was underway.

  Team A.G.E. - Mission Statement: Disembark on the moon, west of the large crater (The Copemicus Crater), and cross into green mist. Follow the path of hoof prints until the fossilized bone structure of the Ancient Giraffe is in sight. Collect the skull and bone structure of the large decayed creature. Return to earth with bone structure, evidence and possibly of the Ancient Giraffe, that one day escaped to the moon. Please make sure the skeleton is stored properly in the metal cases provided.

  Thank you,

  President of Ancient Giraffe Experiment

  Mr. Charles Goodwill.

  “Mission Control to Team A.G.E, are you there?”

  “This is Hanz, our flight escape has ceased to deploy. What's the plan to get us back to earth?”

  “We will work on it, Captain Hanz. Hang ten until then; you have enough oxygen and rations to last a week”

  Day 1:

  That was the last communication I had with base. I printed the brief conversation and stored it with this notebook I'm writing in while collecting the bone structure of the ancient creature and storing it in the provided metal casings. Trevor, accidentally cracked one of the leg bones, right at the base of the hoof. The bone released a strange gas. The gas fumes drifted through the air and infiltrated our space suits. Our bodies suddenly felt exhausted and we dropped to our knees. We lost time in some kind of slumbering state.

  My team of three men, four including myself, has begun to show signs of a strange breakout. Our abdomens are stamped with small hoof prints and have become extremely itchy. Trevor's hands have become swollen to the point that his fingers are unrecognizable. He is showing signs of fever with sweat pouring profusely from every gland on his body. The rest of us don't share his symptoms, but our bodies itch.

  FOR FUCK'S-SAKE, MAKE IT STOP!!

  Day 2:

  Two of us managed to get some shut-eye: myself and Hemlock. The gray-wool blanket extinguished the itch to a certain extent, enough to call it a bitter annoyance. Duggar said the wool blanket trick worked for him, but he is afraid of what may happen with these annoying hoof prints. He even has me seriously considering his ramblings of a Sci-fi space poison. Trevor's swelling has climbed the length of his arms to his neck. He is beginning to take deep gasps of air at the end of his irregular breaths. His swollen body looks like an elongating balloon.

  Still no communication with home base. I have been trying to get through on the hour since I awoke. I will continue to document in this notebook, even though just writing this makes my fingertips raw, since the small hoof prints have spread all over my body.

  Day 3:

  Trevor's abdomen is in the early stages of blistering. There is one sore directly above his belly button that sticks out almost two inches from his skin. The galaxy-shaped sore has streaks of some oozing black substance swirling around in a pus pocket. The spreading hoof marks along his body have darkened to a purplish-maroon color, marking his skin like a spotted jungle cat. His body quivers from chills that creep up his spine and warms the back of his neck. Trevor's fever has spiked to such high levels, I can't believe he's still alive.

  Hemlock developed a sluggish walk, like some kind of force is pulling him to the ground. He can no longer stand, and even sitting looks painful. Hemlock keeps speaking reassuringly, possessing total belief in mission control's future response to our continual messages. His praying the past two nights is beginning to bother me. He is only praying for his well-being, without mentioning poor Trevor or the rest of our team.

  Druggar is in the throes of his own agony, with uncontrolled fits of vigorous scratching. He has scratched his skin so hard layers of flesh are collecting under his fingernails, exposing deep gashes of dried blood that stain his white tank top. His voice has become hoarse from his repeated pleas for the itching to stop.

  Our time indicators came to a stop earlier this morning, but it feels like afternoon. I was trying to be the calm, thinking one. Using the wool blanket like pumice stone along my back seems to soothe the itch. My body aches from lack of sleep; only my fingers seem to be in any proper working order. Spelling out my team's survival story keeps my mind at ease. Although, as I write this I have to wonder if I'm the only one actually
surviving.

  Day 4:

  I watched Trevor take his last breath minutes ago. I'm happy in a way because he is no longer suffering. Hemlock and I rolled him up tightly, in a sheet like an embalmed, mummified corpse. I listened to every bone in Hemlock's body crack. His skin looks as if it's evaporating into his bones. It's like looking at a skeleton with patches of flesh dangling limply from its frame. Druggar has infected areas all along his body. Scratching the constant itch of his open wounds has become an addiction for him or a natural reflex. Upon further examination of my body, I've discovered that the hoof prints have stopped spreading. The dark maroon colors of the prints running up my stomach to my chest no longer itch. As I write in this journal. I'm starting to think I'm not showing strong signs of sickness because I was not as close to the gas when it hissed from the broken giraffe bone. We all started with the same symptoms; it's just all ending differently for each of us.

  Day: 5

  I'm catapulted out of my short cat nap to the sounds of Druggar, “I can't take this anymore.” he yelled. Druggar smashed the emergency fire extinguisher glass window and was holding a piece of the glass in his right hand. Blood began to run down the length of his arm from the gash caused by his grip on the jagged glass. Druggar held his arms out. Besides the bleeding gashes along his forearms, I saw what had been freaking him out. Round bumps were crawling under his skin, the bulges starting at the wrist and then disappearing when it reached his armpit. Druggar watched the bulges, with so much fear in his eyes, the veins in his neck popped out over his feared expression. His last words were, “You see, I must release this thing.” He stabbed the jagged piece of glass into his neck, cutting through his thyroid cartilage. His head snapped back like a Pez container. Druggar's body hit the floor with a thud. Druggar's last gurgling attempt at communication is a gasp.

  Hemlock was in no shape to help me this time, so I simply threw a blanket over Druggar's dead body. I could see the worried stare in Hemlock's eyes. He knew his skeletal form was worsening and probably felt he was next to go. I gave him some reassuring confidence, that with his knowledge on fixing the escape pod, we would be able to escape. Hemlock nodded and said he would walk me through the process, but still had the frightening look of death in his eyes.

  Day 6:

  I'm not even sure if these daily indications are correct. Sometimes, what I think may have been a day, may have been eight hours. My body feels energized since the first recorded entry in this journal. This mission has turned out to be the worst. I should have done more research myself, on this Ancient Giraffe, if there even is any. The gases moved through the air so cleaver-like. I watched these gases from the distant tap on Trevor's spacesuit, like a blind man with a stick. Trevor fell to the ground first, I remember, the space-borne gas crawling out the back of his suit, as if there was a hole in his suit---and into the air. I felt my eternal organs freeze up for a quick ten seconds or so. Then I dropped to my knees. I'm still not sure what happen, what was crawling inside Duggar's arms, or if I suffered the same amount inhalant from the space-borne gas. Also, why am I the only one recovering from the symptoms my crew is suffering from?

  Last Entry: Departure Time

  I fixed the escape pod as Hemlock walked me through the repairs to an audio instruction manual. He lied there beside me, and every line he read sounded painful. I thought I heard his jaw dislocate twice while trying to pronounce a three-syllable word. The repairs to the escape pod worked out well, except one flaw. Someone had to stay. A valve on the outside of ship had to be pulled. This valve worked as an emergency release, instantly shooting the escape pod out of the Moon's orbit.

  Hemlock was able to control his movements better fully suited, by using the lesser gravity to his advantage. Holding the tension wire, tied to the bow of the ship Hemlock knew his time was limited. His last words to me was like a toast, “This is to going out like a bang!” He gave me a salute as I closed the hatch, leaving him floating out in space.

  As I scribble this last entry, I thought I would be excited about going back to Earth. Instead I feel melancholy over the loss of my crew and to my surprise, the sickness has returned. The small hoof prints are rapidly spreading. I'm asking myself, “What's going on?”

  When I should be saying, “Here I come, Earth.”

  Captain Hanz, Apollo 16 ½

  Top Secret:

  Final Statements from Apollo 16 ½:

  The escape pod made a crash landing in a remote wooded area just outside northern Massachusetts. Three scientist and two men from NASA rushed to the landing site. When the five men opened the hatch to the escape pod, a gas poured out and wrapped around their bodies. The men suffered for fifty-two hours in a hospital bed with an unexplained sickness and strange markings along their bodies. What is the Ancient Giraffe?

  UNSOLVED!

  Guardians

  of

  Cedar Hills

  It was the advertisement that caught his eye in a National Geographic Magazine from the states. Mazin pulled out the evenly-folded article from the pocket of his slacks. Looking it over again;

  Cedar Hills Expedition:

  “Once they stood high, reaching the clouds,

  the rays of the sun, shining through its leaves, shadowing the grounds below.

  The Cedars are becoming scarce; why must we chop at these legendary giants? Still standing excluded, the cedars of Lebanon, hold their ground, a legendary stance. The day it should be tampered with will bring the rage of the guardians”

  JOIN US!!!

  Mazin did a small amount of research before he decided to travel to North Lebanon for the expedition. He came across an infamous battle during the Epic of Gilgamesh. Mazin held little belief in mythology, nor was it not a subject that held his interest. It was the picture of the secluded forest holding its ground that gave him the interest in the expedition. Maybe standing where an epic battle took place, slightly aroused the excitement of his planned trip. One more small piece of information, he found on a personal blog post titled, My Cedar Hills Experience caught his eye. The writer's prose seemed to be more of a warning of sorts. It read.

  “Nothing of these people can be said to be the ones who suffered from violence of the great battle. Their corpses rotted into the grounds of Cedar Hills. A harvesting of the land served as a call for the dead to come. A bargain was made for the dead: 'seek out revenge and become one with the giants.' Many of the dead souls excepted the bargain and became the soil for growing cedars.

  If someone should come to grab at the remaining roots and remove them from the ground. Disturbing the earth in some kind of deforestation attempt, will only release the guardians from their graves. The revenants will expel the people, soaring through the treetops, between the level branches and winding down along the paths below. The everlasting grudge will be released and the rage will flower once again, and execute the ones who roughly tread on its grounds.”

  Mazin closed his laptop and went to sleep.

  The next day Mazin climbed on a bus heading for North Lebanon. He packed a small lunch for the three-hour ride ahead. A few times during the ride, he unfolded the article and the picture of the secluded forest, admiring the beauty of landscape. Despite his excitement, the bus ride felt to be short. The bus stopped a few miles west of Cedar Hills. Mazin got off the bus and scanned his surroundings. Off to the right a small boy wearing a rain-slicker two-times his size was holding a sign that read, “We meet at sunrise!” Mazin approached the boy and pulled out the article and pointed to the picture of, Cedar Hills. The boy slid the sign under his arm and began to pass into the heavily-crowded market square. The boy stopped and looked over his shoulder at Mazin and motioned for Mazin to follow him with a wave of his hand.

  Mazin followed the boy through the market section of the small town. Most of the buildings were made of stone with small cutouts representing the windows and doors. Many of the town folks were dressed in rain gear and oddly paid no mind to the boy who bumped into them as he hurried by. Ma
zin tried to be a little more cautious, dodging the abrupt shoulder thrusts of the town folks. The boy took a quick turn between two stone buildings. Mazin rushed along the cobblestone walkway, tripping over his own feet and nearly knocking an older woman to the ground. Despite her size the woman retained her balance and continued on her way. Mazin stood up and turned to apologize, but the woman had already blended into the crowded market. Mazin brushed off his trousers with a scoff and headed for the two stone buildings the boy slipped through.

  The two adjacent stone buildings, made a narrow passageway, at the end was what looked like a painted green wall. Mazin looked at the boy puzzled and suspected that the boy had led him to a dead end. In a second glance, Mazin noticed a small wooden door painted the same green. The boy began knocking in some kind of rhythmic bang. Seconds later the door opened.

  A man held the door open; he had a slight build, with broad shoulders, and an unkempt beard covered his chin. The boy looked over his shoulder at Mazin. The man nodded at the boy, then made eye contact with Mazin. Taking that as an invitation to enter, Mazin walked up to the small wooden door and crossed over the threshold.

  Mazin stopped a few steps inside the small area. The large man closed the door and secured it by sliding a long pole through an interlocking makeshift latch. Mazin browsed his surroundings, noticing two other men sitting at a table across from each other, playing a card game. The lighting in the area was very dim, provided by two small kerosene lamps. A fire pit with a poorly built connecting chimney, cooking pots and piles of wood were scattered around nearby the fire pit. Off to the right a cut out in one of the four walls looked to be an entry to another room.