Shadows of the Stone Benders (The Anlon Cully Chronicles Book 1)

by K Patrick Donoghue

  For the next several minutes Anlon recounted various stories about Devlin Wilson. Explorer, raconteur, historian and curmudgeon. Pebbles watched Anlon closely as he talked, his eyes transfixed on the leaping flames. There was a tremble in his voice that revealed a deep sense of loss, she thought, knowing the signs herself all too well. When he finished talking, Anlon reached a hand to cover hers and said, “Thank you for letting me go on.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she admonished, “A small repayment for your many kindnesses to me. Let’s toast to the memory of Devlin Wilson.”

  “Here, here,” Anlon softly echoed, “to Devlin, a great man who made history come to life. I will miss you. Cheers.”

  Pebbles clinked glasses with him and sipped on the margarita. For several more minutes, she sipped in silence waiting for Anlon to emerge from his thoughts.

  “Sorry,” he finally said, “lost in memories. Anyway, that wasn’t all Dobson said when he called.”

  “Oh really? There’s more?” Pebbles exclaimed as she dove into her second burrito, feeling as if it was now kosher to continue eating.

  Watching her chew furiously while awaiting his answer, Anlon offered a muted laugh. Pebbles knew how to lighten a mood, even when she didn’t speak. He continued, “Yes, it appears Devlin made me the executor of his will and left me a chunk of his estate. Dobson said I could do most of the estate work by phone and mail through Devlin’s attorney, but he practically begged me to fly back east to meet with him this weekend. Tomorrow in fact.”

  “What? Why so urgent? I assume you want to go to the funeral for sure, but that wouldn’t be so fast, would it?” she questioned.

  “No, you’re right. The funeral is not until this coming Wednesday. Dobson was insistent that I come tomorrow though. He was very evasive when I asked him why. All he said was that he had something very sensitive to discuss with me regarding Devlin’s research. It would appear I’ve inherited his artifact collection and research papers as part of the estate. But I agree with you, the urgency struck me as odd.”

  “Are you going?” she inquired while refilling both their margarita glasses. Unconscious bartender habit, she rationalized after pouring the drinks.

  Anlon took a long gulp from his glass and responded, “Yes. As soon as I got off the phone with Dobson, I booked the first available flight out tomorrow. It’s a connecting flight through Chicago so I won’t get into Albany until late and then I have to drive to Stockbridge. I’m set to meet with him at 10:00 tomorrow night at Devlin’s house.”

  “Oh, okay. Do you want me to come with you? I’m sure I can get someone to pick up my shifts the next few days without a problem,” a visibly eager Pebbles offered with sincerity.

  “No, that’s okay,” he smiled, “but it’s sweet of you to offer. I’m sure I’ll be back by next Friday’s happy hour at the latest.”

  II

  FIRESIDE TALE

  While the fireplace crackled beside him, Anlon waited for Matthew Dobson to speak. The old man sat facing Anlon in the dimly lit room, but did not look at him directly. The earlier part of their conversation was spent catching up on each other’s lives and reminiscing about Devlin Wilson. But now it was time to discuss heavier matters.

  The flicker of the flames washed over the walls behind Dobson in swells each time blasts of the howling wind outside forced their way down the chimney. Draining the last of his scotch with satisfaction, Dobson cleared his throat and leaned forward, saying, “It’s a hard story to tell because, frankly, it’s hard to believe.”

  Anlon smiled softly and replied, “Please Dobson, I always knew Uncle Devlin to be eccentric, but I also always knew him to be brilliant, so nothing you say will surprise me.”

  “Yes, yes, quite true on both counts,” Dobson nodded in agreement, his thin, wrinkled hands wringed together before him, slightly shaking.

  The two sat on opposing well-worn mahogany leather sofas in the study of Devlin Wilson’s house which, along with most of Devlin’s other physical possessions, had been willed to Anlon. Rich cherry paneled walls lined with built-in shelves sat on either side of the central stone hearth. Filled with an assortment of reference works and artifacts from Devlin’s travels, the shelves offered an accurate snapshot of the man, Anlon thought. The seriousness of thick academic tomes mixed with the beauty of simple ancient objects captured Devlin’s personality perfectly. He was a man of intense, unrelenting intellectual curiosity on a quest to discover the secrets of ancient man, both great and small.

  “He obviously left me his collection and research papers instead of donating them for a reason, but your call was very cryptic. Curiosity is eating away at me,” Anlon responded.

  With a snicker and a nod Dobson replied, “I think the Professor counted on that!”

  Gathering up his glass and pouring another splash of scotch, Dobson continued, “As you know, the Professor was forever curious and refused to accept conventional thinking about anything and everything. It’s what made him special and opened his mind to possibilities others were unwilling to consider.

  “Yet, to move along, he had to get along, and that meant suppressing some of his instincts and beliefs in order to further his career to the point where he had enough freedom and money to explore questions his peers accepted blindly, questions that just didn’t add up to him.”

  Anlon sat back and stared at the reflection of the roaring fire in the beveled surfaces of Dobson’s scotch glass. The way Dobson described Devlin was exactly how he’d remembered him over the years, but Dobson was waxing romantic about Devlin’s ability to suppress his views.

  He was no stranger to controversy and had a well-known reputation for challenging conventional thinking. His published research was, for the most part, contrarian and hence he was somewhat shunned by colleagues in the fields he studied and worked.

  “In any event, the path he embarked on that led you here had a simple beginning in four questions the Professor couldn’t satisfactorily answer. He was puzzled how, in the 1400s, maps were published with accurate, detailed topography of the Antarctic continent land mass when the continent had been buried beneath a massive ice cap for at least 10,000 years at that time.

  “He was frustrated there was no logical explanation for the sudden rise of the full and rich Egyptian dynastic culture and architecture without an apparent transfer of knowledge and culture from other societies that predated dynastic Egypt.

  “He was stumped at how the massive central monument of the ancient Andean Tiahuanaco complex could possibly have been shaped, moved and placed — a feat viewed as nearly impossible to accomplish even today.

  “He was staggered at the unearthing of Harappa in what is now Pakistan, a fully developed and planned city by our modern standards, but dated conservatively to be over 5,000 years old with, again, no apparent precursor culture. It was as if someone out of the blue dropped down a full, modern city.

  “Conventional wisdom said civilized societies emerged from cavemen like beginnings between 10,000 and 5,000 B.C.E. Yet these pieces of evidence seemed to contradict that view. How were these technological accomplishments achieved when presumably man walked around with stone flints and spears?

  “Many of Devlin’s colleagues considered these inconvenient and unexplainable facts as scant evidence to challenge their theories of societal development, let alone overturn them.

  “But your uncle was not convinced. And so he began picking at the threads of these baffling facts. For more than 10 years, he hunted and pecked in every major research library, at every major archaeological site he could gain access to and with every renowned expert who would talk with him. He tried to do so quietly and discreetly so as not to attract the ire of his peers, but without much success.

  “Upon learning of his investigations, many of his peers shunned him and turned their eyes away from his work and whereabouts. Though he didn’t intend it, the blind eye his colleagues cast in his direction actually helped your uncle make the first in a series of major discove
ries about three years ago. Those discoveries shed light on the unexplained questions and may very well one day change our understanding of the entire history of man on Earth.”

  If the look on Dobson’s face had not been deadly serious, Anlon would have laughed at this last remark, but instead he challenged, “Come on Dobson, that’s a pretty bold statement. If he made such discoveries, why didn’t he triumphantly publish his findings and take a decade-long victory lap? I know my uncle, and if he knew he was right about something, anything, he would crow from the highest spot he could find.”

  “Wouldn’t he though,” chuckled Dobson in agreement. Dobson swished around the scotch in his glass and then dashed it down inhaling deeply afterward to absorb the alcohol’s hot sting.

  Leaning forward and lacing his fingers together over the knees of his threadbare corduroys, he paused for a moment, peering deeply into Anlon’s eyes before replying firmly, “He said nothing because he was on the trail of something bigger and he didn’t want anyone else to get there before him.

  “You see, it’s not that his peers are stupid, they are just brainwashed. Presented with irrefutable, powerful evidence, his colleagues would eventually turn their profound intellects to swarm the globe seeking the final pieces to the puzzle your uncle began to unlock before his untimely death. And the Professor recently had reason to believe he was not the only person quietly seeking these answers.”

  Anlon absently ran his hands through his hair while shaking his head. This doesn’t add up, he thought. Standing, he turned to the fireplace and warmed his hands while trying to absorb Dobson’s words. Turning again, he said, “So what you’re trying to tell me is my Uncle Devlin found evidence that proves that civilized human society predates consensus views? While I can see that would rock the scientific community, it hardly seems worth suppressing for fear others would take partial credit for it.”

  Dobson sneered, “Oh, it is well beyond such pettiness. No, no, young man. Your uncle was on the trail of a story so amazing and potentially dangerous that if he shared what he found with the world before having all the answers, people with a thirst for power and wealth would swoop in to capture the final pieces of the puzzle and not only have the ability to suppress forever the evidence your uncle found but potentially use the evidence with great harm and effect.”

  Eyebrows arching, Anlon backed up a step, his legs sensing the heightened intensity of the fireplace behind him as the wind blasted down the chimney again. “Okay, now you’re spooking me. What could he have found that was so ominous?”

  Dobson didn’t say anything at first. He just sat watching Anlon while he contemplated his next words carefully. Rising, he paced across the room to a bookcase adjacent to the stone fireplace. Removing a dozen books and a few trinkets, a hidden safe was revealed.

  Pressing his finger against an optical reader, a flash of blue filled the room when the device recognized Dobson’s fingerprint, and the hidden door opened. From within, he drew out a black container about the size of a cake box. Pacing back across the room, he placed the box on the table between the two men. Lifting the lid, Dobson gingerly displayed two objects on the table in front of Anlon.

  The first was a smooth, oval stone that was tan in color and slightly larger than an average man’s hand in circumference. The second was a thin, flat, square stone of a more reddish color about the size of a salad plate, but with decorative markings etched upon it.

  Sitting back on the sofa opposing Anlon, Dobson motioned to the two objects and said, “These are the first two objects your uncle discovered. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. These objects were discovered initially by other archaeologists many years ago and were in storage at two different internationally renowned museums. But the archaeologists and museum curators had no idea what they had in their possession.

  “To them, these two pieces were simply pottery used for dining or for ceremonial purposes and their lineage had been forgotten. It was your uncle who invested the time to rediscover where the objects originated and where in the specific dig sites they were found. Then he examined ancient texts and drawings from the Egyptians, Mayans, Olmecs and others. He came to the conclusion after much consideration that these were not ceremonial pieces or dining surfaces.”

  Anlon gazed at the oval and square artifacts while listening to Dobson wax on. They appeared incredibly ordinary, of no significance at all. Anlon was not an archaeologist or anthropologist, but if an expert of either branch of study had declared the objects ceremonial pieces or dining surfaces, he would have shrugged and accepted their judgment. He asked, “So what’s so special about them? They don’t look significant to me.”

  “I’m going to need another scotch before I answer,” Dobson announced as he again reached for the decanter and drew another three-finger shot into the lead crystal glass. Anlon observed the older man with a mixture of curiosity and concern. On one hand, he was anxious to hear more, yet on the other hand, he was unnerved by Dobson’s wariness.

  “May I touch the stones?” Anlon asked, as Dobson sipped away.

  Dobson nodded in assent and mumbled, “Please be careful. They are both priceless beyond measure.”

  Anlon first picked up the oval stone. It was lighter than he expected. Turning it over, he noticed the stone had been worked into a modestly concave surface, thicker at the edges and progressively thinner towards the center, which had a slight oval bulge. He could understand why someone might consider it a bowl of sorts, even though it was far shallower than a bowl typically would be.

  He returned the oval to the table and lifted the square stone by its edges. This one was much heavier than the oval and coarser along its surface. The etchings upon it did not appear to be letters or glyphs. They looked more like a fanciful design. Anlon wasn’t sure which side was supposed to be top, bottom, left or right, but the image seemed to make the most sense in the direction Dobson had placed it on the table in front of him.

  In the upper right-hand corner of the square stone, there were two closely placed circles. Towards the bottom a horizontal line ran across about midway before arcing up in a sharp curve that ended beneath the two circles. Flipping the stone over, Anlon saw no markings but there did appear to be a smoothed circle in the center.

  Anlon placed the square back on the table and cast his eyes back at Dobson. “Okay,” he uttered, “What gives. What are these objects?”

  Dobson paused again before leaning forward and pointing at each object. “Anlon, my boy, these are two pieces of ancient technology that were almost assuredly created at least 10,000 years before Christ walked upon the Earth.”

  Dobson let that soak in for a moment before continuing on. “Technology that was lost to us in cataclysmic events that occurred in that same time range.

  “These objects give us the beginning of an understanding of how man lived, built, moved and thrived in at least one highly advanced society for thousands of years before any archaeologist would ever admit.”

  “These two pieces of rock? Come on, how’s that possible?” Anlon scoffed while reaching for the scotch bottle sitting next to the two objects on the table. It was time he had a drink.

  “It’s very possible if you are willing to open your mind and consider what the possibilities might be. Let’s take a step back, shall we? What’s the constant refrain from scientists who recoil when some colleague or even novice dares to suggest that man thrived on the planet longer than we give credit for? When someone questions whether a high-functioning society existed before dynastic Egypt sprung out of the desert seemingly out of nowhere fully formed?” rebutted Dobson.

  Poking his finger in the air as if arguing the point with an invisible debater, Dobson with voice raised spat, “I’ll tell you what they say. Show us the proof? Where are the buildings? Where is the language? Where is the art? Where are the physical signs of culture?

  “The basic supposition being that a high-functioning society could not have possibly existed without these things because that’s what
we view in our world today as the measures of society — man creating objects and structures, recording thoughts and historical events and other telltale signs of applied intelligence and the conquer of nature.”

  Anlon wasn’t sure whether it was the first swallow of scotch or Dobson’s rising indignation, but he was definitely paying attention now. Dobson railed on after taking a deep breath, “And therein lies the problem Anlon. We always look at the world through our own lens. We are too arrogant! Except, God bless, your uncle and heretics like him.

  “You ask me what these objects are? I tell you they reveal two fundamental technologies that at least one advanced culture used for millennia before our recorded history begins. Technologies lost to us for the most part that we are only now starting to consider again. Technology that didn’t seek to conquer nature as almost all technology we utilize today seems to attempt. No, these technologies took advantage of the simple aspects of nature we tend to overlook to build, communicate, move, record, fight and heal!” Dobson roared, stabbing the air yet again in a volley of triumph.

  “Okay, okay, calm down,” Anlon chuckled. “What technologies?”

  Dobson sank back on the sofa, exhausted from his rant, and in between gasps for air, he said in a barely audible tone, “Sound and magnetism.”

  Peering back down at the objects, Anlon reconsidered their appearance. Sound and magnetism Dobson had said. Lifting the oval stone again, he could visualize its shape as similar to that of a speaker system woofer. Placing it back down again, he turned his gaze to the square red stone and assumed it must be a magnet of some sort. With these conclusions fresh in his mind, he said, “So, one is a speaker and the other a magnet?”