God Stones: Books 1 - 3

by Otto Schafer

  The Moores spent the rest of the afternoon and hours of the evening bringing down the equipment, building materials, pulleys, and tools needed to create a rigging system that would allow the stone to be pulled without destroying the fragile wooden tunnel leading to the slope.

  With all the material safely transported to the bottom of the pit, the Moores cranked up the tunes and set to work cutting four-by-fours that would be used to create, for all intents and purposes, a box within the box shape of the tunnel. Paul’s theory was that the newly built structure would give the cable a solid place to find purchase, rather than ripping through the centuries-old wood of the tunnel, possibly resulting in a collapse.

  Breanne measured and marked out the boards, her father made the cuts, and Edward and Paul constructed the reinforcement.

  “Pops, I think we’re good here,” echoed Paul’s voice from the tunnel. A moment later his head appeared from the hole in the floor of the pit. “Bre, hand me that hammer drill and box of concrete anchors – oh, and a hammer. Time to install this pulley, and we’ll be ready to rock.”

  “On it,” Bre said.

  By the time the rigging was complete, it was getting late and the family had put in a long day. They gathered around the giant stone altar one last time as Paul double-checked the cable connection that now wrapped completely around the stone.

  Exhausted, Breanne leaned against the stone altar. Immediately she noticed something strange – felt something strange. She turned to face the stone and placed both hands flat against it. The others took notice.

  “What is it, Bre?” Edward asked.

  She didn’t know how to explain it. “Put your hands on the stone and feel this,” she said.

  Everyone followed her lead, spreading out in a circle around the altar, laying their palms flat on the stone.

  Her father spoke first. “That is the strangest sensation. It feels like, I don’t know, like electricity is running through this stone. Lots of it!”

  “It’s like some sort of energy,” Edward said.

  “I feel like at any second I’m going to get electrocuted,” Paul said, yanking his hands away. “That’s some creepy shit, man.”

  It didn’t feel creepy at all to Breanne. It just felt odd. She felt the sensation all the way up her arms and radiating into her chest. “It feels kind of like if you put your hands on a car while the engine is running, but without the sound.”

  “What could this mean?” Edward asked.

  “Honestly, Ed, I… I just don’t know.” Dr. Moore rubbed his face. “Well, it is unlikely, but perhaps below this stone is a powerful current of water. Rushing water may account for the vibration transferring through the stone.”

  The Moores looked at each other gravely. They all knew what that would mean – the end of further exploration.

  “Is that what you think it is? Water-flow vibration?” Paul asked.

  Her father paused for a long moment, seeming to search the vast archeological archives of his mind. He slowly placed both hands back on the altar. “No… no, I don’t think it is water flow.”

  “Then what?” Breanne asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She thought it, knew everyone else was thinking it, and for some reason none of them wanted to say it. The Ark of the Covenant? The Holy Grail? Aaron’s rod? The Ten Commandments?

  He looked to each of them, allowing his eyes to finally settle on Breanne. “I don’t know. I can’t think of a single logical explanation.”

  “Only one way to find out, I guess,” Paul said.

  Her father let out a long sigh. And she knew before he spoke, she would not get to look under that stone tonight.

  “As tempting as it is to push on, we are tired, hungry, and plain worn out. It wouldn’t be safe to do this tonight. We can’t afford a mistake. It will be much easier to monitor the cables and operation in the pit with the sun up, when we’re fresh. I know none of you want to hear this, but let’s call it a day.”

  23

  Wrong Number

  Present day

  Petersburg, Illinois

  As soon as they entered Garrett’s house, the boys were enveloped with the aromas of sweet Italian sausage, oregano, and garlic bread. After their taekwondo class, the boys were starved.

  “What’s for dinner tonight? It smells awesome,” Lenny said.

  “Spaghetti, I think.”

  Lenny nodded excitedly.

  His mother’s voice came from the kitchen. “Boys, you home? It’s time to eat.”

  “Yeah,” Garrett called back to the kitchen as he kicked off his shoes.

  “Did you boys wash your hands?” Elaine asked.

  Both boys raced to the bathroom.

  “Settle down!” Phillip yelled after them from his throne.

  They quickly washed their hands and returned to find Elaine placing a giant serving bowl filled with goulash on the table.

  “Lenny. Don’t you have a home?” Phillip asked, provoking an instant glare from Elaine.

  “Yes, sir, I do,” Lenny said, laughing.

  “Then why in the hell are you in mine? Why don’t you go to your own home?” Then, turning his attention to Garrett, he said, “Jesus Christ, I’m not trying to feed the whole godforsaken neighborhood.”

  “Alright, mister, that’s about enough of that,” Elaine said, pointing her finger at Phillip before turning to Lenny. “Now, Lenny, you know you are welcome here anytime. Don’t pay any attention to Phillip.” She threw Phillip a stabbing glare.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Turek,” Lenny said.

  Reaching for the garlic bread, Elaine said, “Boys, tell me about your day.”

  Lenny perked up. “Garrett and I get to test for our second-degree black belts on Wednesday! We just found out at class today.”

  “Oh, good, I will plan to come watch!” Elaine said.

  “I absolutely hate goulash,” James said. “Everything is mixed together, and mushrooms? Ugh.”

  Phillip glared at James. “You know what, James? You are going to eat that goulash or so help you Go—”

  The phone rang.

  “Well, that’s just it, Mom, you can’t. It’s a closed test, so no spectators – not even students or family can be there,” Garrett said.

  Phillip drew in a breath, reached over, and picked up the phone. “Tureks… Yes. Yes, I understand. How long? I see.” Phillip looked directly at Garrett. “He has to be. Thank you.” He hung up the phone and looked at Elaine.

  Garrett watched as his mother’s eyes searched Phillip’s. “Who was that?”

  Phillip broke eye contact with Elaine and turned to Garrett. “Wrong number.”

  “Wrong number?” Elaine blinked, the blood draining from her face to leave behind a wide-eyed ghost. “Did you hear Garrett? He said the test is closed. No spectators. No family.” Her voice cracked.

  “Lenny, why don’t you stay here tonight?” Phillip asked.

  Lenny blinked. “On a school night?”

  “Yes. Just this one time,” Phillip said.

  James dropped his fork into his bowl and froze.

  It was like their whole world stopped. Everyone gaped at Phillip in shocked silence. Never had Phillip personally invited Lenny to spend the night, and never had he allowed it on a school night.

  “I… I don’t know, sir. It’s a school night, and I have chores,” Lenny managed.

  “It will be fine, Lenny, and you can both take the night off training,” Phillip said.

  Garrett’s mind literally blew. Did he just say training in front of Lenny?

  Lenny blinked. “I… I don’t…”

  Garrett looked from side to side. Dumbstruck faces stared back.

  “Listen, instead of training tonight, why don’t you spend some time talking about where you are in your training and what you have learned?” Phillip said.

  Garrett heard the words, but it was like someone else was speaking them. He wasn’t going to pass the opportunity up – he was going to seize it. Phillip had brought it up, so
he couldn’t whip him, not for this. “Dad, why do we train? What is the purpose?”

  James’s jaw dropped open. Then he smiled, pulled out his Zippo, and began flicking it.

  “Mr. Man!” his mother gasped. “You know better than—”

  “Elaine, stop,” Phillip said, holding up a hand. Then he did something weird. He made a face that Garrett almost mistook for a pained grimace, but then he realized… it was a smile. It was forced – not much more than a tight, joyless line – but a smile nonetheless. “You have many questions. You both do and you should. I ask only this. Wait until Wednesday, after you test. I will answer any questions you have then.”

  Lenny spoke quietly. “I am sworn to never speak of this outside my family, Mr. Turek. If my parents find—”

  “I know, Lenny. Trust me, it will be fine. Come here Wednesday after your test. Tonight, you can stay here.”

  Lenny nodded. “Um, okay. If my parents are cool with it.”

  “Run home and grab your stuff. Say nothing of this to your parents, only say I asked for you to stay,” Phillip said in an unusually soft voice.

  Lenny stood up slowly. “Alright then, I’ll go grab a change of clothes and my guitar.”

  Garrett looked at his mother and saw no smile. Instead, her eyes were glassy, her face still drained of blood, whiter than dead coral. She looked as though she would be sick.

  “Garrett, the rules still apply. Speak to no one else about your training. Only Lenny.”

  “Yes, sir.” Garrett nodded slowly. His mind raced. Did Phillip somehow know about his and Lenny’s talk? No. That couldn’t be possible. Besides, if he had, it wouldn’t have made him want to be nice about it. No. If Phillip had known about the conversation, he would have been whipped. The phone call? He didn’t think that was a wrong number. What was it Phillip had said to the caller? He’d looked Garrett right in the eye and he’d said, He has to be. Has to be what? What did it mean?

  Next to his throne, under the wall phone, leaned an old, crooked cane with an ivory handle. The warped shaft of the cane was a dark-stained wood, plain except for a few nicks. Garrett had never seen Phillip use the cane, no matter how bad his hip was bothering him. But each morning he carried the cane to the kitchen, and each evening he carried the cane back to the bedroom.

  One day Garrett had decided to ask him why he had the old cane anyway. Phillip had glanced over at the cane, a melancholy expression washing over his face. “It was my father’s, and there may come a day when I have to depend on it as my father did, so I keep it around in case that time comes.”

  Garrett looked at Phillip now and noticed that same sadness hanging heavy across his face like a soggy cloud hanging low in the sky. Phillip stood, picked up his father’s old cane, and this time he didn’t carry it – this time he leaned heavily on it as he made his way to bed.

  Without a word, James snapped shut his Zippo, pushed his chair out, and carried his bowl across the kitchen, where Elaine was filling the sink with soapy water. “Thank you, James,” she said quietly.

  He nodded somberly and left the room.

  “Mom? You okay?” Garrett asked.

  Elaine turned and gave Garrett a weak smile, then she cupped his cheeks in her warm, wet hands. “Garrett, you are such a good boy. I am so proud of you.” She squeezed his face. “I love you very, very much,” she whispered, searching his eyes intensely with hers, searching for understanding – for confirmation – but as she searched, her eyes filled with tears that raced down her cheeks, betraying her charade.

  “What is it, Mom? What’s going on? I love you too, please don’t cry,” Garrett said, his own eyes beginning to blur.

  Elaine quickly pulled herself together, wiping her eyes with the apron. “Sorry, dear, don’t mind me, it’s just that you are so special and so loved.” She did her best to smile as she sighed deeply, regaining her composure. “I am so, so proud of you.” She leaned forward and kissed him gently on the forehead. “Now, listen to me, Garrett – this is very important. Wednesday, when you test, concentrate, clear your mind of everything, and focus, dear. You have to focus.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Lenny said, smiling mischievously, as he bit his lower lip and walked his fingers across the frets from one end of the neck all the way down to the body of the guitar until both hands were almost touching. He paused there, fingering the strings magically before making his way back up the neck like a classical pianist effortlessly gliding across ivory keys.

  “I just can’t believe this,” Garrett said. “You being here and now suddenly we can talk about our training with each other. Why now? And are other kids getting to talk to each other about their trainings? My dad said only you, Lenny, and that I can’t talk to anyone else, but suddenly you’re okay?”

  “Who cares. I’m just glad we can talk to each other. It sucked keeping this secret from my best friend all this time. And your dad said he is going to tell us why after the test on Wednesday. We will finally know why we have been training all this time.”

  “Okay, but don’t you think it is strange we have to wait until after the test? What’s that got to do with anything? And then there was that call and what my mom said while you were getting your stuff.”

  “The wrong number?” Lenny asked.

  “Yeah, that was no wrong number.”

  “What did your mom say?” he asked.

  “Something about focus – it was weird, that’s all.” Garrett shook his head.

  Just then, James poked his head up from the stairwell leading to Garrett’s room. “Hey, nice finger work, Lenny,” he said, ascending the stairs the rest of the way. “Garrett, I heard you guys say you’re testing for second-degree black belt this week?”

  “Yeah, we’re pretty stoked about it,” Garrett replied, wondering why his brother would even come up into his room. He tried to stay ready. This could be a trap to catch him off guard. Any second, he might wrench either one of them into a knot, or worse.

  “Garrett, come here for a second,” he said, motioning Garrett towards the stairs.

  Garrett looked at him with hesitation but followed cautiously.

  “We’ll be right back,” James said, looking towards Lenny with a glare that dared Lenny to try and follow them.

  Lenny shrugged and went back to playing his guitar.

  Garrett watched James as he descended the stairs, flipping the lighter open and shut. How could someone so badly burned carry around a lighter without a care like that? From what Garrett understood, when the accident happened and James dropped the lighter, there was no putting out the cotton before it began to melt into his skin, burning his entire torso, arms, and even his cheeks. He’d required several surgeries to perform skin grafts. You would think something like that would have made him afraid of fire, but not James.

  Once they were halfway down the stairs, James swiveled to face him. Garrett stopped, unsure what to expect. Usually there were at least a few smart-mouthed comments exchanged between them before anything physical would happen.

  “Are you ready for this test Wednesday?” James asked.

  Whatever he had expected from James, that was not it. It took him aback, and he stuttered nothing intelligible.

  “Well, are you ready?” he asked a second time.

  Garrett narrowed his eyes, trying to read James’s face but only seeing a quilt of stubbly blotches separated by random scars blanketing an emotionless cheek. “I don’t know. Honestly, I didn’t even think Mr. B would let me test anytime soon.”

  “Well, listen, best of luck to you. I truly hope you do well, Garrett.” Then he reached out and slapped his brother on the shoulder, turned, and descended the stairs.

  Garrett watched, stupefied, as he descended. Had he heard right? Did his brother just wish him good luck?

  On the bottom step, James paused, turning back to face him. “Oh, hey… listen, little bro, one more thing.”

  “Yeah?” Garrett managed.

  “It’s all about focus. You remember th
at, and you’ll crush this shit.” He stood there for a moment longer, holding Garrett’s gaze.

  Garrett’s eyes went wide. He searched James’s eyes for an explanation that didn’t come. Finally, unable to speak, he simply nodded.

  James smiled tightly, gave a sharp nod, and vanished around the corner.

  Garrett waited there for a moment, his mind spinning, trying to piece it out. First Phillip, then his mom, and now James. What weren’t they telling him? He walked down the stairs, passing by his parents’ bedroom door on his way to the kitchen, his throat suddenly all rust. After he sucked down a glass of water, he started back. This time he heard his parents’ voices as he passed their room. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, so he eased closer. He didn’t dare risk hanging out outside his parents’ bedroom door eavesdropping, but he couldn’t help but pause briefly.

  “He’s not ready for this, Phillip.”

  “No. No one is.”

  Garrett pressed closer, but what followed was only silence. He waited and when no more sounds came, he became nervous, retreating back to the stairs, to Lenny and his guitar. He and Lenny stayed up far too late smiling, laughing, and sharing forbidden training knowledge. It felt good, like a weight lifted, to truly speak honest air with his best friend and know that at least with Lenny he had no more forced secrets.

  Eventually, even the excitement of permission to break the rules wasn’t enough to fight back the sandman, but it wasn’t the soft sand sprinkled over Garrett’s eyes bringing him magic dreams. No, it wasn’t the sandman who came this night. Instead, Garrett found himself in a nightmare of hell as real as any fire he had ever felt. It burned everything and everywhere. A voice from the flames called, “All things will burn, whether flesh or bone, steel or stone, all things will burn.” He saw someone and called out, and then the flames reached for him, grabbing hold with white-fire fingers. Oh, God! God, no!

  Garrett jolted inside the tangle of sweat-soaked sheets as he opened his eyes and gasped. He rubbed his chest, then his face as he tried to recall the dream, but it was slipping further and further from the grasp of his mind, like water through his fingers.