by Rai Aren
Finally, he managed to get within earshot.
We may be there soon...
We will need to get word back upon our arrival... the metal library...
The prisoner will tell us what he knows...one way or another...
Either way, he will be dealt with...
His feelings of panic spiked hard. They were looking for the cathedral cavern. He turned back to resume his journey. He had to make the utmost speed now. Danger was approaching. Time was running out.
He started to creep back through the thick jungle foliage. Adrenaline pushed him forward.
A couple of minutes later, he suddenly stopped. A face looked back at him. A human face. He gasped, frozen in place.
He locked eyes with the prisoner, bound and gagged, tied to the base of a tree. He was an older man. He looked like he had been roughed up. His forearm and lower leg were bandaged. His expression was one of shock and surprise.
The young man crouched down low. He looked around. He knew guards would not be far away. His mind raced over what to do.
The young man’s heart sank as he realized he had no options. He knew he could not help this man. He was alone, without any backup, and he could not risk being captured. Not with what he possessed and with the knowledge he had. The journey back was treacherous enough as it was. He also knew that a missing prisoner would immediately result in a search party being sent out. And this prisoner was injured. It was unlikely this man could make the trip back without aid. That would narrow his odds of getting back even further, especially now, knowing that enemies were already closing in.
His big, dark eyes conveyed the deep, heartbreaking regret he felt.
The man, though tied and bound, tried to protest, to beg for help.
The young man’s eyes filled with tears. He shook his head. He mouthed the words, “Lo siento,” to express how sorry he was. Then he did one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. He turned and left.
As he departed, tears streamed down his face. He thought of how it would feel to be tied up, helpless, at the mercy of these men, then seeing another who could help, but chose not to. He could not even explain to the man why he did what he did. He was crushed, but the cathedral cave and those artifacts were sacred to his people, and the danger of having them fall into the wrong hands, severe. He must carry on...
CHAPTER 1
Cuenca, Ecuador, present day
Rick awoke with a start. His heart was pounding and he was drenched in sweat. For a moment, he was disoriented, unsure of where he was.
He’d been haunted by nightmares ever since his foray to the Lost City of Gold in the Amazon jungle. The Mato Grosso was always with him. That ill-fated expedition had taken a deep toll on him. It had been almost two and a half years since he’d escaped that frightening place of inexplicable terrors. It felt like it had taken a piece of his soul.
He got up and stretched. He got a twinge of pain for his efforts.
“Ugh, getting old, Braeden,” he said to himself.
His mind and body were still recovering, in many ways, from his ordeal. He was never very good at sleep either, insomnia was something that he frequently had to contend with. These days were no different. He was feeling his age and then some.
He paced around his small, 400 square foot, one-bedroom, dingy apartment, working out some of the kinks. He walked over to the living room window. The sun hadn’t come up yet. The city of Cuenca, Ecuador was just waking up. The buzz of the night-time world was slowly being replaced by a different rhythm and sound as day prepared to take over from night. He watched as a shopkeeper made his way to his store, getting going early to prepare for the business of the day. A sign of hopefulness that customers would come and money would be made.
Rick sighed, in some ways he was like that shopkeeper, trying to make a life for himself. But unlike that shopkeeper, he was still trying to figure out where he belonged and what his true purpose was.
In the meantime, he’d been content with his life in this picturesque city. He appreciated the beauty of its Spanish colonial architecture, dating back to the 16th and 17th centuries, with cobblestone streets and red Spanish tile rooftops. It was a colorful and charming place, both friendly and low-key, which suited him just fine. He felt at home here. Or at least as much as he’d ever felt at home anywhere.
He’d actually come to this city for a very specific reason. He just hadn’t felt ready or energized enough to face that reason until recently, but now he didn’t want to sit still any longer. He’d wasted enough time licking his wounds and being at the mercy of his demons. He was tired of it. He was craving forward momentum, a way of reaching escape velocity from the deep rut he’d found himself in. It was time to once again try to do something that really mattered to him. Besides, sitting still had never been his strong suit. He always got too antsy to stay in one place too long. His spirit longed to wander, longed for adventure, longed to explore.
He headed for the shower. He looked up at the jury-rigged heating wires attached to the shower head.
“Damn thing’s going to electrocute me one day,” he said to himself, shaking his head.
He stripped off his plaid boxers and got in, washing the perspiration off. The water pressure was lacking, but at least it was fairly clean water. Something you came to appreciate in these parts.
After his shower, he rifled through his meagre wardrobe. He grabbed a torn, dark grey t-shirt off a chair and gave it a sniff. Not the freshest, but it would have to do. It was the cleanest one he had.
“Guess I’d better make my way to the local laundromat this week,” he mumbled to himself, as he donned the t-shirt and slipped on some jeans.
He made himself a pot of coffee and sat down at his small kitchen table. He loved Ecuadorian coffee. It was the best coffee he’d tasted anywhere in the world. He grabbed a local newspaper he’d picked up yesterday. It’d been the catalyst he was seeking.
He leaned back in his kitchen chair and sipped his coffee as he reflected on what had first drawn him to this region of Ecuador. He’d known this part of the world had a rich archaeological history. He knew exactly what he wanted to do. And it had everything to do with his father and wanting to prove himself to the man whose respect he felt he’d never been able to earn.
Rick had zeroed in on the accounts of a mysterious lost metal library, comprised of metallic tablets, rumored to contain powerful ancient and otherworldly knowledge. Many expeditions had failed to locate this storied place. He vowed he would be the one to find it. Rick knew the history of the vast Tayos Caves system in the rainforest of Ecuador, and that somewhere within it was believed to be the location of the Lost Metal Library. The mysterious metal tablets had gone missing decades ago. Many rumors had abounded about their fate. For Rick, it was a tantalizing mystery.
A Salesian Monk, Father Crespi, who had lived in the Ecuadorian city of Cuenca for over half a century and died in 1982, had befriended the indigenous peoples of the area through his missionary work. He was highly regarded for his efforts on behalf of their wellbeing, and as a way of showing their gratitude, they had gifted him large numbers of ancient artifacts. They’d revealed the artifacts had been found in an expansive subterranean system of caves in the Ecuadorian jungle, known only to the local people. Amongst the array of artifacts given to Father Crespi, were hammered metallic tablets, rumored to be made of gold, copper and bronze, and inscribed with a myriad of ancient symbols from an unknown language. They were said to be part of a hidden metal library, rumored to contain powerful knowledge. Father Crespi even claimed the artifacts were from Babylon, which would make the tablets, potentially, up to 4000 years old, though that was never verified. Upon Father Crespi’s death, the metallic tablets vanished and the location of the metal library has never been found.
This was it, Rick told himself. This would make all the years of struggle worthwhile. Because if he could do this, his lifelong goals and aspirations, goals his father had dismissed and derided, would finally come to
fruition.
The fact that in 1976, the famous astronaut Neil Armstrong, only seven years after becoming the first person to walk on the moon, had gone looking for this mysterious lost library as part of a large, coordinated expedition of over 100 people, and had come up empty-handed, had sealed the deal for Rick in choosing this as his next expedition.
Neil Armstrong was one of the men his father had most admired in life. That was one thing the two of them did share. If Rick could pull off something that one of the most famous men in history could not, someone his father revered, then surely this would earn him the respect and status he’d long sought in life.
However, try as he might, Rick had been unable to find anyone to join his proposed expedition to the Tayos Caves system. He’d scoured the local labor force haunts, offering work to the day laborers and other free agents. He’d intended to carefully scrutinize lists of potential recruits. After what had happened in the Mato Grosso, his last expedition, he didn’t ever want to be tricked, used or fooled again. He’d paid a mighty price for that mistake.
Unfortunately, whenever he mentioned where he intended to go, the laborers suddenly became unavailable. He could see the fear creep into their eyes when he mentioned the Tayos Caves system. After a while he wasn’t even afforded the luxury of trying to ask the questions. Men would see him coming and beat a hasty retreat.
He had no idea what was happening, until yesterday when he was heading back to his apartment after another fruitless day of trying to hire some local help. He passed a newspaper vendor. A headline in one of the local papers caught his eye. As he’d read the article, he’d stopped in his tracks.
This explains a lot, he’d thought to himself.
He’d hurried back to his apartment, wanting to study the article more closely. Once home, he’d re-read the headline:
Another missing person linked to the Tayos Caves System.
“Yup,” he said to himself. This is why no one wanted anything to do with his expedition. In a way, he was glad it wasn’t personal.
He’d continued reading:
...local man, Diego Torres, has been missing for nearly three days. He was last seen heading towards the Tayos Caves System. He is the founding member of a local archaeology club and recently had been publicly criticizing a foreign company, accusing them of trying to steal valuable artifacts belonging to the Ecuadorian people.
The article went on to outline how other people linked to activity surrounding the Tayos Caves System had also gone missing over the last few weeks.
The foreign company, Ares Worldwide, with rumored ties to black market dealings in weapons and various financial crimes, though none had ever been proven, is under suspicion in relation to the disappearances. Though their representatives have strongly denied any involvement, their arrival two months ago is too coincidental to be dismissed out of hand.
So far, local law enforcement has been unable, or unwilling, to find any links to the massive, shadowy organization who claim to be doing exploratory field work ahead of a potential geological mining expedition. However, this reporter has already uncovered unofficial reports of previous archaeological work where the company was rumored to have been involved in brutal tactics, ignoring local regulations, having a complete disregard for local customs, bribery, corruption, and even theft of important historical artifacts.
Rick’s instincts had started firing once he’d read the article. He had that feeling. The one he got before he went on the chase. He knew this was what he needed to do. It seemed like worlds were starting to collide with regards to the Tayos Caves system. If Rick wanted in on a potential discovery out there in the Ecuadorian rainforest, he’d have to act fast, or soon the chance of a lifetime might slip forever from his grasp.
CHAPTER 2
Rick read the name of the journalist. Sofia Torres. He was sure she knew a lot more than what had been written in print. He wondered, too, if she was related to the missing man, though he realized Torres was a common last name.
Considering the journalist’s possible familial connection got Rick thinking about his own family...
He was a grown man, but he’d always secretly still craved his father’s acceptance, to be acknowledged in his eyes as a person of worth, maybe even of celebration.
But it was too late now. His father had died almost two years ago. A part of Rick had died with him. He’d never been able to show his father much for his efforts, no great discovery, nor any material success to finally gain his stamp of approval. And now he never would. That was another loss Rick was forced to live with. It haunted him. Maybe it always would.
His father, Edward Braeden, was an esteemed business owner, a relentless workaholic, and local pillar of the community. He’d long pushed for Rick, his only child, to follow his footsteps into the family business.
Rick had tried, really tried. For a long time. But he just could not fit into the office environment or find even a hint of passion for the business. His father had attempted to find positions that Rick could tackle and find a reasonable fit with, but it hadn’t worked out. In the end, it’d been an embarrassment for both of them. Rick left the company after failing to meet his father’s endless expectations of him, which Rick felt were impossibly high standards. He knew it was his own fault, to a large degree. His heart just wasn’t in it and he couldn’t summon the will to force it or even fake it.
As a boy and as a young man growing up, Rick had been drawn to exploration outside in nature, especially to places of historical significance. It had started when his mother, Eleanor, had taken him on a field trip to a local site known for its history of archaeological finds.
She’d seen how much he loved the experience, how he seemed to come alive as he explored the natural world, seeking lost treasures. After that outing, she’d always made sure to encourage Rick’s imagination, his love of the outdoors, and deep fascination with ancient history. The two of them had a strong mother-son bond. He felt understood and accepted by her, and the two of them had a great deal of fun together.
Rick had been devastated when they found out she had cancer. The diagnosis had come out of nowhere. Her decline had been swift. Only a few months later, his mother was gone. Rick never had a chance to get his footing during her illness. Every time he tried to make sense of what was happening, there’d be another sudden, shocking development, and an even more grim outlook. He’d felt as though he kept tumbling down a dark rabbit hole into a nightmarish world he’d never imagined being in, and could scarcely cope with. The sense of fear and powerlessness and overwhelming despair was crippling.
He’d only been seventeen years old at the time. Not yet a man. He’d only realized in hindsight how much he was like his mother, and how much he’d depended on her to make him feel loved. Once she was gone, it felt like all the love in the universe had died with her. At least all the love in the universe that had his name on it. The world afterwards felt cold, distant, and achingly lonely. He never really felt like he belonged anywhere after her loss. It was as though he’d lost a big part of his identity. That he no longer mattered. He waffled between anger at the universe, shock and heartbreak over his mom leaving him, and longing towards a father who failed to be there in the ways he needed him to be. A father who couldn’t face his own grief over his wife’s loss, so he buried it deep and lashed out at anything, or anyone, that reminded him of it. For Rick, it all mixed into a profound, seemingly endless grief spiral, and for a long time, he’d sunk into a depression.
What finally showed promise in bringing him out of that deep, dark depression, that sense of hopelessness and loss of purpose, was a solo trip he went on to a state park. He did it in honor of his mother’s memory. He’d camped out for a few days, under the stars, reflecting on his life, and his mother’s passing. He’d asked the universe for help in making sense of an existence that now felt empty to him. While on a hike the next day, he’d found a tiny fossil. A partial footprint from a small creature from the ancient past. It was the sign he’d b
een waiting for, longing for.
He’d been elated. It had been ages since he’d felt anything even close to his old self. He’d felt energy and purpose begin to flood back into him.
He’d been so excited to share his small discovery with his father. His father had worked late again, but over dinner that night, Rick showed him what he’d found, and more importantly, shared what it meant to him. Rick said it felt like a sign from his mother that he was meant to dedicate his life to searching for ancient treasures. But his enthusiasm had been instantly crushed. His father’s disinterest was clear. He told his son to focus on more practical matters and forget his fanciful notions of searching the world for lost things and remnants of a past that had no bearing on his own future.
Rick had tried to get his father to understand how much it mattered to him, how it had finally lifted his spirits after losing his mom and suffering through a deep depression for months. But his father dismissed his ideas and his feelings and told him he needed to let go for his own sake, and start acting like a responsible young adult. He argued that there was no money in what he was proposing. No viable career path that would lead to a financially and materially secure future. He painted a picture of Rick struggling for twenty years only to realize that his father had been right all along.
Rick had sulked for weeks after that conversation. He’d considered moving out, moving to another town, but found that he was too demoralized and lacked the drive to even take that first step. Eventually, his father wore him down. Slowly, he’d even begun to believe that he had been foolish for entertaining such fanciful notions.
For the next few years, he merely went through the motions of life. He let his father dictate things to him, because he didn’t feel strong or centered enough to chart his own path forward. His father eventually remarried, but Rick never felt close to his stepmom. Deep down, he just could not accept any kind of replacement for his mom. It wasn’t fair, he knew that.
