by C J Murphy
Other Books By CJ Murphy
frame by frame
The Bucket List
By CJ Murphy
©2018 CJ Murphy
ISBN (trade) 978-1-948327-06-0
ISBN (epub): 978-1-948327-07-7
ISBN (pdf): 978-1-948327-08-4
This is a work of fiction - names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business, events or locales is entirely coincidental. 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 the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Desert Palm Press
1961 Main St, Suite 220
Watsonville, CA 95076
Editor: CK King
Cover Design: TreeHouse Studio, Winston-Salem, NC
Blurb
Professor Jordan Armstrong, a biogenetic engineer, is at an impasse in her super food research. In order to move forward, she is adamant that her former professor, Noeul Scott, is the key. The problem is, Noeul vanished after a personal tragedy. Jordan stumbles upon a coded 'bucket list' that she hopes will reveal clues to where she's gone. With the help of her cryptologist sister, Jordan follows clues to several National Parks where hidden memorials to Noeul's deceased wife, contain the next set of coded ciphers. Jordan must decode each in order to reveal the next location. Along this expedition, she is guided by something, or someone, she can't see. Unexplained happenstances continue to direct her steps.
Dedication
For Chris and Kelly Stadelman, who taught me that a bucket list should be about making memories and not just a list of items on a piece of paper—or in this case, a fictional work in progress. From our three-hour beer-and-burrito vacations, Pittsburgh pub crawls, kayak floats on the Allegheny, Pirates spring training and regular season outings, right down to watching fireworks in your backyard on the Fourth of July, we have been grateful for every adventure in your company.
Darla and I have been blessed from the first day we met you both and will always consider you more than friends. You are the closest of family in every sense of the word. For showing us that the check marks should come sooner than later, we raise a mason jar in your honor.
Sadly, we lost Chris before he could read this dedication. His life with Kelly certainly made me understand the importance of making the 'dash between' count.
“When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe.” John Muir- My First Summer in the Sierra, 1911
Chapter One
PROFESSOR JORDAN ARMSTRONG TRAILED her fingers along the spines of numerous books in the National Parks section of the library at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York. How could it be so hard to find a specific book? Two former staff professors had authored the groundbreaking publication about the role of the time-honored landmarks in relationship to the environment.
Although it had to be here, it wasn’t in its designated space. Shelved wrong? She continued down the rows and rows of books, until her eyes caught a bold script across a cloudless sky. There it was a thick text entitled The National Parks Reaction to Climate Change. “Found you,” she whispered. Pulling the volume down, she looked at the cover shot that displayed a panoramic view of Grinnell Glacier in Glacier National Park. God that’s gorgeous.
She opened the book and studied the photo credit, Professor N.F. Scott. Her pulse rate increased and a trickle of sweat formed on her upper lip. As she turned to the photo pages in the middle of the book, a piece of paper slipped from inside and drifted to the floor. Looking around, she bent to retrieve the folded yellow document. Jordan closed the book and tucked it under her arm, carefully opening the paper to reveal a seemingly nonsensical dictation full of letters, numbers and symbols, and random quotes. What the hell?
Jordan frowned, puzzled as to the meaning, until she was interrupted by a rustling sound. Someone was searching books a row over. Jordan nodded, having made up her mind. She shut the book and took it to the circulation desk, where she presented her university ID in order to check it out.
The librarian scanned her selection and ran her finger across the cover. She looked up at Jordan. “Ah, Professor Armstrong, nice to see you.” A small smile crossed her lips while she ran her finger across the authors’ names and tapped the book. “These two were favorites around here. When this first came out, we did book signings here. Such a tragedy.”
Jordan formulated her next statement carefully. “I remember. Professor James passed unexpectedly from an undiagnosed heart condition, right?”
Sadness crossed the slight-of-stature woman’s face. “Yes, Aggie and Noeul were out for their daily run. There were some complications and Aggie died two days later. I was sad when Noeul resigned her professorship shortly thereafter. Losing one of them was bad enough. Unfortunately, in the end, we lost both of them that day. A true tragedy for all who knew them and the students that would have benefited from many more years of their experience.”
Feeling that exact sentiment, Jordan continued to gently pry, hoping to find an easy answer to the growing mystery. “I agree with you. Where did Professor Scott go?”
“After she sold the house here, no one knows. She took off on what she called her bucket list, and no one here ever heard from her again.”
“She must have left a forwarding address?”
The librarian smoothed back her silver hair and adjusted the clip holding it off her shoulders. “If she did, I wasn’t privy to it. I hope you enjoy the book. They worked on the research together with Aggie doing the majority of the writing, Noeul the photography. Such a shame and an incredible loss.” She handed the book back to Jordan. “On a brighter note, how’s your research going?”
Jordan was a Professor in Agricultural studies and a biogenetical engineer in the field of plant genetics. “When Professor Scott was the Biology chair, the research she was working on was closely related to what I’m trying to do now. It would go much faster if I could find her.” She held up the book. “Thus, the book.”
“Ah, I see. I wish I had more information for you. If I think of anyone to ask, I’ll let you know.”
Jordan thanked the librarian, tucked the book into her messenger bag, and left the formidable building. She threw her leg over her mountain bike and made her way back to her rental on Forest Home Drive. Her studio apartment was slightly off the beaten path, close to campus, and perfect for her needs. She was anxious to get a closer look at the paper. The unexpected find was burning a hole in her shirt pocket. The mile and a half ride was substantial enough to build up a light sweat as she peddled past the botanical gardens. It was still a bit cool for things to be in full springtime, the air crisp and clean.
Upon her arrival, Jordan locked her bike into the rack and sprinted up the outside staircase. Her mailbox held a stack of letters. Unfortunately, they displayed only her own handwriting on the envelopes. Three in all, each with a large red stamp across the mailing address. Return to sender-Attempted not known. “Dammit”.
Frustrated, she sorted through the stack finding nothing more interesting than a five dollar off coupon at the local pizzeria. She clipped that notice to the refrigerator and tossed the rest of the day’s mail in the trash. Walking over to the counter, she picked up the leather-bound notebook where she was keeping all her notes and information about Professor Scott. She peered down at a list of nine previous addresses, six already crossed out. “The last three down,” she grumbled as she sc
ratched through the final addresses still on her list in the notebook. “Another dead end. She certainly doesn’t want to be found.”
Finding Professor Scott was turning into more of a mystery than the Nevada Barr books she coveted. She pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and walked to her recliner, dropping into it ungracefully, only to hear a scratch, scratch at the door as she reached for the paper in her pocket. She rose and walked back to the entryway to let in an Australian shepherd. She bent and dutifully paid Bandit the attention he craved, his sky-blue eyes staring back at her as his head turned into her scratches.
“You know, if you had opposable thumbs, you’d be the perfect roommate. Maybe we should install a doggie door, so you can come and go as you please. On second thought, maybe that would be a bad idea. I’d come home to find a collar hanging on the door handle signaling me you had a girl dog in here. Or a boy dog, for that matter.” She kissed his forehead and walked over to fill the water bowl she kept for him and called Max to let him know that Bandit was visiting.
“Your boy is hanging out with me, don’t worry about him. I’ll send him home at dinner.”
“That dog. I swear he lives with you more than me.”
“I’m better company. I speak doglandish.”
“Ah, you’ll have to teach me that, so he’ll actually understand when I tell him no.”
Jordan chuckled. “I’m not even sure doglandish has a word for no.”
“Well that explains why he never listens. Send him home when you’ve had enough.”
“If that’s the case, don’t expect to ever see your dog again. I promise that I’ll send him home to eat.”
“Fair enough.”
By her nature, Jordan was a solitary individual, something her landlords Max and Sam Keller had worked tirelessly to change as they became like family to her. Her mind was always on her work, on her goal to eradicate hunger. Jordan’s research project involved devising a way to graft a superfood onto a plant stalk capable of growing in little to no water. Max helped her develop complicated algorithms to manage the data she collected from growth rates as well as scheduling irrigation. These complex equations helped to keep his diagnosed dementia at bay for as long as possible.
Her mystery document still hadn’t been examined closely. She opened her bottle of water and took a long drink as she made her way to the bar in her rarely used galley kitchen.
“Okay, Bandit, let’s see what I found.”
Gingerly, she pulled the paper that had fallen out of the book in the library from her shirt pocket. After she laid it on the bar, she gently smoothed out the creases and looked at the information written in a distinctive script. “I’ll be damned.” She’d seen Professor James’ handwriting before, an elegant calligraphy with sweeping tails on the y’s and a distinctive capital A and J. At first glance, the information seemed random and unorganized.
The dog sat at her feet chewing on a cow hoof. “I think it’s time we call the expert, Bandit. I’m out of my league here.” Bandit stopped chewing at the sound of his name and turned his head sideways as if contemplating what she’d said.
Jordan’s sister, Dava Armstrong, was her go-to expert when it came to all things in puzzle form or code. Born with spina bifida, her sister had a powerful intellect that was in stark contrast with the physical impairment that confined her to a wheelchair. Outside of the US military, Dava was one of the east coast‘s premier cryptologists. Jordan pulled out her cellphone and speed dialed her number while tapping the speakerphone icon. Two rings later, a familiar greeting filled her kitchen.
“Atchawhay antway eengray umbthay?”
Jordan laughed. “Ovelay ouyay ittlelay istersay.” Their use of pig Latin had irritated their parents who had never gotten the hang of it, leaving them to be able to speak in code much the way a parent would spell when they didn’t want little ears to know what they are saying. Dava’s greeting translated to ‘whatcha want green thumb.’ Hers in return varied slightly, telling Dava that she loved her little sister.
Jordan had a hard time not letting her adoration show in her voice as she took on a more serious tone. “Your mission, if you choose to accept, is to use that super computer brain of yours to help me decode a document.”
Dava snorted. “Did you hack into the Department of Agriculture or something?”
“No. I found a document that may help me find Professor Scott. It appears to be in several different codes. It may be nothing. All I know is it’s the first clue I’ve found in a long time. Unfortunately, my last three letters came back today marked ‘attempted, not known.’”
“Are you even sure she’s still alive, JJ?”
Jordan could feel the corners of her mouth pull into a smile at her sister’s childhood nickname for her. At three, Dava couldn’t pronounce her full name. Dava had long outgrown that inability. The term of endearment would always warm Jordan, even on her worst days.
“I have a web alert set up for anything on her. No obituary, no legal notification, and nothing even closely related to her has come back, even with the paid searches. If she died in the last ten years, I’d know.”
“Well whatcha got for me?”
“There are a series of paragraphs. One is a short story about a brown fox, another set looks like binary, and the last one might be Morse code. I’m sure there are others, so I decided to come to the expert.”
Dava’s rich laugh emanated from the speakerphone. “I’m only an expert because I spent my entire childhood trying to find my things by deciphering your poor attempts at code.”
Jordan laughed. “Hey, it worked didn’t it? You loved it and you know it.” The sisters were six years apart in age, gifted with extremely high IQ levels. They were blessed with parents who taught them that the only limitations in their lives were the ones they put up for themselves.
“I loved that you took the time to do it. You always made me feel special, JJ.”
The stinging in Jordan’s eyes was for a different reason. “Watson, that chair doesn’t define you. It’s a mode of transportation for your body not your brain.”
“I know, Sherlock, and I love you for saying that. Now send that paper to me so I can get back to saving the world.”
“Ovelay ouyay ittlelay istersay”
“Ittoday igbay istersay.”
After she’d scanned the document to her computer, Jordan emailed it to her sister. There was no doubt in her mind that Dava would crack all those codes in record time. The Armstrong sisters’ brains still shocked the scientists who often included them in studies. The two had hyperthymesia, which manifested as the ability to recall every day of their lives in perfect clarity and detail. Researchers had no explanation how their parents tested at normal intelligence levels with both daughters testing off the scales. Jordan’s mind craved information as she pulled out a stool at her kitchen bar and began examining the book the two professors authored. The entire volume would be devoured in a few hours as she used her freaky ability to speed read. The photographic memory she possessed would make it possible to commit the information to the data bank in her head.
Jordan’s eyes pulled in every word as she began to read the preface.
This book, The National Parks Reaction to Climate Change, is dedicated to the women and men who have struggled for decades to preserve these extraordinary places of grandeur. Without them, these lands would be opened to industry and the destruction would be catastrophic. President Roosevelt believed this to be true and established the United States Forest Service in 1905 to begin preserving these wonders. He said, “We have fallen heirs to the most glorious heritage a people ever received, and each one must do his part if we wish to show that the nation is worthy of its good fortune.”
He argued that, “We have become great because of the lavish use of our resources,” but recognized that these treasures would need protection for years to come. May these national treasures be protected as well as those items we house in museums for safekeeping. Their overall importanc
e to our environment cannot be reclaimed once they are devastated by industrialization. - Dr. Tybee Agnes James and Dr. Noeul Finnegan Scott.
Jordan read the words once again, realizing how closely they resonated with her own thoughts. She loved the national parks and frequented them as often as she could in her travels. Dava had given her a directive when they were young. “Experience every adventure with double the excitement because you’re doing it for two.” Dava’s ringtone filled the room.
“Whatcha got for me?”
“What I’ve got for you, is the decoded information you wanted.”
Jordan laughed and looked at her watch. “Thirty minutes. You must be slippin’ babe.”
“Ha. I had them done twenty minutes ago. For your information, some real work came my way that took precedence. You, my big sister, are a small fry in comparison to Silicon Valley.”
Jordan huffed a protest. “Hey now, I should always be at the top of your list.”
“Let’s say they pay better than you do. Now, do you want to know what these codes say or not?”
Jordan scrambled for a pen and paper. “Yes, yes. Please, oh wise one, enlighten me.”
“The brown fox paragraph uses the first letter every third word. That one says decipher the bucket list in this code, my love. The next one is actually the Dewey Decimal System for a book called…”
Jordan finished for her. “The National Parks Reaction to Climate Change?”
“Hey, did you need my help or not? Don’t be stealing my thunder here. I’m sharing my brilliance with you. Now, where was I? Oh yes, the code. So, that one leads you to that book you’re apparently holding. Use those numbers to find the page number, line number, and word number. Since I don’t have that book, you’ll have to figure that out yourself.”
“Ok, I’ll do that later. What else have you got?”
“The Morse code says Find the treasure at latitude 42.4524 longitude -76.485703. That turns out to be Fall Creek Gorge in the Cornell Botanical Gardens.”
