Tomb of Atlantis

by Petersen, Christopher David

  The more it thrashed the more entangled its teeth became. Jack lunged again, this time stabbing at its gills as it rolled to its side. Instinctively, the shark cut back toward the knife, its teeth snapping at the offending weapon. Jack cried out in fear once more, but landed another blow to the shark’s nose.

  Violently, the shark pulled and mauled at the netting, slicing through the ropes as it struggled to free itself. Jack lunged quickly at the monster once again, this time stabbing near the eye. Blood continued to flow from its wounds, but the demon continued its attack.

  With a kick from its tail, it drove up through a hole in the hammock, getting stuck once more, the force of the strike lifting the outrigger out of the water a foot.

  Instantly, Jack lost his balance. As the float rocked backward, he fell forward into the netting. He now lay beside the behemoth, mere inches from its razor-like teeth.

  Immediately, the shark roiled and shifted, trying to get at Jack, but the hammock once again restricted its movement. Pushing on its sandpaper-like skin, Jack shoved himself behind the shark’s head as it fought to get at him.

  His mind suddenly cleared. For moment, he saw his chance. He surged forward and thrust the knife into the eye of the shark, burying it up to the handle. As the shark exploded with fury, he used the handle to hang on. Thrashing from side to side, the knife slid deeper into the shark’s brain. As the shark’s movements began to slow, Jack rotated the knife and cut deeper into his foe.

  Suddenly, the shark quivered and released its grip on the netting. As if in slow motion, the shark reversed its upward movements and slipped below the surface. Jack yanked the knife from the shark as it pulled away. Quickly, he moved to the top of the float and waited.

  Looking down into the water, he watched it swim a short distance, then roll over onto its belly, dead. Unsure of his reality, he continued to watch as it slowly sank out of sight.

  Jack sat on the float and stared at the blood smeared across his raft. He looked down at the hammock severed in several places. There was no mistaking: he had been in a fight for his life.

  As he sat and thought about the past few minutes, all his emotions streamed to the forefront of his mind. He felt relieved that his life was saved at that moment, but more strongly, he felt sad that in spite of surviving, he would probably die, mysteriously and alone.

  Jack placed his hands to his eyes. Slowly he rocked, the intensity of his sadness burrowing deep into the pit of his stomach.

  “God, help me. I just want to go home. Please help me get home,” he prayed in his weakest, humblest voice.

  He felt his chin quiver and his eyes well with tears. Sitting alone on the edge of the float, Jack wept, overcome by emotion.

  Atlantis - Chapter 19

  DAY 16

  Javier, Serena, and Burt entered a small conference room and took their seats around a long rectangular table. At the far end sat a computer. At the other end, on the wall, hung a large screen that shown images from the computer. As Serena ran the machine, Burt sat across from Javier and used a laser pointer to describe the images that were projected on the screen.

  “I can’t believe you translated these scrolls in a week’s time,” Serena said.

  “Fortunately, the hieroglyphics were very similar to my scrolls. I had all the symbols and their translations worked out already so there was very little time wasted in research,” Burt responded.

  “We’ve heard bits and pieces so far. I’m dying to hear the rest of the story,” Javi added.

  “I think you’re going to love this,” Burt replied. “Ok… Atlantis was built by a great leader, seven thousand years ago. After amassing an empire that spanned from Africa to the Middle East to Europe, he decided to build the grandest city ever conceived. Apparently, he employed the finest architects, artisans, and craftsmen from across his empire and created a marvel of modern living. They had running water, drainage, paved streets, and arenas for entertainment, as well as grand statues, works of art and ambitious architecture that created a world of extravagance for the wealthy.”

  “You got all that from these crude hieroglyphics?” Javier asked.

  “I’m taking a bit of license here, interpolating the data, so I might be off by a little, but I’m fairly certain about the bulk of the information,” Burt responded.

  “Running water? That’s wild. Must have been gravity fed, I’m guessing,” Serena speculated.

  “Undoubtedly,” Javier added.

  "As I read through the scrolls, one important piece of information was missing—the exact location of Atlantis. The best I could gather was that it was located somewhere east of Italy and Greece,” Burt said.

  “Hmm, that’s unfortunate. Any guesses on the specific location?” Javier asked.

  “Well, the main clue is they described it as a large island, situated off the coast of a greater land mass,” Burt offered.

  “That could describe any number of islands from Sicily to Cypress,” Serena said, somewhat frustrated by the lack of information.

  “I know. I was hoping they’d pinpoint the location somewhere in these scrolls, but strangely, nothing materialized,” Burt responded. “Anyway, according to what I read, the King of Atlantis was hailed as a fair and just leader, keeping world peace through diplomacy instead of brute force.”

  “Really? Diplomacy? Talk about progressive thinking back then,” Serena joked once more.

  “Yeah, usually the sword was about as diplomatic as it got,” Javier joined in.

  “Well, the king’s greatest strength did lie with his naval power. He built thousands of ships to ‘insure’ his diplomacy. So I’m sure that term should be used loosely,” Burt said in sarcastic tone. He thought for a moment, then added, “Actually, he needed to exercise his ‘diplomacy’ several times with the Egyptians.”

  “Not working and playing well together?” Serena joked again.

  “Not really. On several occasions, the king led his ships to Egypt, having to replace the existing leader with someone else,” Burt replied.

  “Replace? I’m sure there wasn't a pink slip involved with that firing,” Javier added.

  “I’ll bet that made for a great working relationship,” Serena said, continuing the humor.

  “Probably not, but I’ll get to that later,” Burt replied cryptically, then continued, “Eventually, after a long and victorious life, the king died. They claim they buried him on Atlantis in a great pyramid overlooking the sea.”

  “So Atlantis had a pyramid… fascinating,” Javier responded.

  “Are we talking about the pyramid in Argolis, Greece?” Serena asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Burt replied.

  “Why not? It kind of fits.”

  “Because it was swept away by a tsunami, but I’ll get to that story later, too. Continuing on, the king’s son succeeded him as ruler. He was also equally diplomatic and highly regarded,” Burt said, raising his eyebrows cryptically.

  “At least by the scribes writing the scrolls, anyway,” Javier joked.

  Burt smiled knowingly and continued, “As the city of Atlantis grew more opulent, so did the need for revenue to support it. The son began to collect greater taxes,” Burt said, now smirking as he spoke.

  “Bet that bent a wild hair across someone’s ass!” Serena added, off the cuff.

  “Serena!” Javier scolded in mock tone.

  “Sorry, dad. Across someone’s rear end,” she teased.

  Javier shot her an approving look, and then nodded for Burt to continue.

  “Now, you have to bear in mind that the language on these scrolls is very crude and that I’m translating, so I might not be getting the meaning of the hieroglyphics correct. You also have to realize that these scrolls were written by scribes charged with recording their nation’s history, so we have to remember the bias in which these were written. For example: They didn’t specifically talk about taxes. What they claim is the people of the empire adorned the great city of Atlantis with great riches,” B
urt explained.

  “Right, the people of Morocco loved Atlantis so much, they freely donated their spare cash for its benefit,” Javier said, sarcastically.

  “Like everything else in life, history is written by the victors,” Burt added.

  “So are you saying that the first king was an oppressive ruler, too?” Serena asked.

  “Not at all. It’s clear he was highly regarded. Well, regarded by everyone but the Egyptians, anyway. It was his son who became a tyrant,” Burt responded.

  “Kids,” Javier blurted, furrowing his eyebrows at Serena.

  “Hey!” Serena complained feebly.

  “So, the son upset the applecart, eh?” Javier asked.

  “Well, from what it says here, a great expansion occurred under the son’s rule, creating an even larger and more opulent Atlantis, thus requiring greater sacrifices from his empire,” Burt answered.

  “Ah, there it is, greater sacrifices. In other words, 'give us your money or die,'” Javier responded.

  “That’s how I’m reading it,” Burt added, nodding in agreement.

  “So what happened?” Serena asked.

  “The son initiated a campaign to plead for greater sacrifices,” Burt replied.

  “Ah yes, simple misunderstandings were taken care of with a few beheadings, I’m guessing,” Javier joked once more.

  “So what happened next? All out war?” Serena surmised.

  “It appears that just before that happened, a massive tidal wave struck Atlantis. From every indication, not only was the city and its inhabitants wiped out, the force of the wave changed the shape of the coastline, washing away half of it in its wake,” Burt explained.

  “Wow, so the fabled city really did fall into the sea as the ancient story was told,” Javier concluded.

  “Apparently so,” Burt responded.

  “Ah, so the pyramid must have washed away with the rest of the city,” Serena deduced.

  “I believe so. The destruction was described as absolute,” Burt responded.

  “Wow, what a tragedy,” Javier said, now shaking his head in disappointment.

  “Wait a minute, what happened to the rest of the empire? It stretched from Africa to Europe. Losing Atlantis surely wouldn’t have destroyed the entire kingdom,” Serena asked.

  “Funny thing happens when you’re an indentured servant, much like what happened to those outside of the city of Atlantis. Once your master is gone, there’s nothing compelling you to obey their rule. As it was, the empire simply fell apart, reverting to their status prior to being conquered,” Burt answered.

  “So that’s it. The true accounting of the rise and fall of Atlantis. After seven thousand years, we finally know the truth. Astounding!” Javier said in amazement.

  “Almost; there’s more. Atlantis was Egypt’s greatest foe. They disliked the king and they especially hated the son. When Atlantis fell, those remaining were hunted down by the Egyptians. They amassed an armada of ships and chased the Atlanteans out into the Atlantic Ocean. Only a handful of ships were able to escape. Miraculously, the Atlanteans made it across the Atlantic to safety. Unfortunately, their history stops just at the point when they sighted land,” Burt added.

  “That’s strange. There’s no mention about this new land they discovered? You’d think there would be more description of their new world. Could there be more scrolls we haven’t found yet?” Javier asked, almost rhetorically.

  “Anything’s possible,” Burt replied.

  Atlantis - Chapter 20

  DAY 19

  As the days turned into weeks, Jack struggled to maintain life aboard the tiny raft. With nothing to eat and little to drink, his mind had shut down and he now lay dangerously close to death. The midday sun continued its unrelenting assault on his exposed skin. Only a miracle could save him now…

  ----- ----- ----- -----

  Jack's miracle came in the form of clouds. The heat of the day, coupled with the moisture of the ocean, produced delicate, fluffy clouds that blocked the sun’s destructive rays. As the cumulus clouds dotted the sky, they found nearby clouds and formed larger, more concentrated unions. Billowy and soft, their gentle touch reached out and invited others to join them. By mid-afternoon, their numbers had grown, creating large masses that blanketed vast regions of sky. As the memory of the afternoon quickly faded, the warm, cottony feel of the clouds was gone. In its place were gray, menacing towers of doom that threatened to demonstrate their power at any moment.

  The ocean below quietly carried on with gentle ripples, as the sky above grew more unstable. As afternoon turned to evening, the angry dark clouds sent out stinging whips of wind that lashed out across the vast sea, churning the water as welts developed into rolling waves.

  The tiny raft rolled through the waves, creating cool spray that covered Jack's face as he lay sleeping. Increasing in size with the strength of the wind, the waves slammed into the side of the float, shaking it violently and rocking Jack from side to side.

  With each dousing of spray and foam that covered his face, Jack was pulled further from his deep sleep. As his eyes sluggishly opened, he watched in amusement, the larger, frightening waves racing toward him. With great effort, he pulled himself to a sitting position and looked around him. Gazing up toward the sky, he noticed the lack of sunshine and smiled at the relief he was now feeling on his badly scorched face.

  With each wave that drifted through, Jack moved with it, instinctively leaning into the wave as it rolled in and leaning away as it rolled on out. Unable to string together logical or rational thoughts, he simply stared out across the sea and watched waves roll through as gusts of wind helped to soothe his sunburned face.

  Jack's thirst was overpowering. With his tongue swollen and dry, he longed for a drink of water. Looking at the ocean, his mind saw only cool, satisfying fluid. Having lost his water bottle in a previous storm, he looked around for a cup to drink from, never considering the use of his hands as a makeshift container.

  Slowly, he moved to the duffel bag. Still unzipped, he peered inside and spotted the Ziploc bag he saved from his sandwich weeks before. He pulled it out, leaned over slightly, and dipped the bag into the water, filling it half way. Holding the bag out in front of him, the greenish tinted water looked delicious. He smacked his dry, cracked lips, poured the salty water into his mouth, and swallowed.

  Immediately, Jack vomited. His intense dehydration as well as the vile taste of salt caused his body to reject the foreign matter instantly. With nothing in his stomach, he dry heaved over the edge of the netting, dropping the plastic bag in the water. His stomach burned with intensity and he bit his upper lip, causing him to cry out in pain.

  Moments later, with the vomiting stopped, he sat in the middle of the netting and blankly stared as if nothing had happened. He licked his lips and tasted the flavor of blood. Raising his fingers to his mouth, he rubbed his upper lip and noticed blood on his fingertips.

  “I need a band-aid,” Jack thought to himself in his delirious state.

  He reached into the duffel bag and pulled out his first-aid kit. Pulling open the Velcro flap, he spread the kit open in his lap. As he searched for a band-aid, he opened meshed compartments and examined their contents.

  “Hmm, antiseptic, cleansing pads, rubber gloves,” he said to himself as he fumbled through the compartment. He opened another compartment and found a small plastic canister. He pulled it out and shook it.

  “Batteries,” he said to himself dryly.

  In another pouch, he found the small yellow container he had noticed once before. He pulled it from the compartment and examined it.

  “Huh, Mom’s toothpick holder,” he said to himself, his mind fuzzy and confused. “I wonder how it got here.”

  He looked around, as if to search for his mother. Seeing nothing but water, he refocused on the container.

  As his hands shook, he struggled to open it. The more he tried, the greater he became frustrated. Feeling the effects of exhaustion once more, he f
olded up the first-aid kit and tossed it into the duffel bag. Lying back down, he closed his eyes and fell quickly to sleep.

  At the bottom of the duffel, buried inside the first-aid kit, a tiny yellow light began to glow. The miniature PLB (personal locator beacon) began to transmit its signal.

  As the tiny device sent out its message, Jack’s world began to change. The skies grew darker and more violent by the minute and the winds became powerful and sustained, forcing their influence on the ocean's surface, creating larger and more dangerous waves with each glancing blow. Within an hour, the waves would grow from two feet to twenty and Jack would once again be forced to fight for his life, only this time he had neither the strength nor the desire to fight.

  Atlantis - Chapter 21

  DAY 19, continued

  The waves rolled under the float, causing it to rise and fall with the peaks and troughs. At the bottom of the trough, the float encountered some resistance as it struggled to make the transition between descending down into the trough and rising back up to the peak. With each entry into the valley between the waves, the float dug into the water, then rose back out as its natural buoyancy floated it back to the surface. The larger the waves, the deeper the trough and the further the float sunk below the surface.

  The two-foot waves were barely a cause for concern as the float negotiated the troughs with little difficulty. Rising and falling, Jack continued to sleep while his body lightly rocked from side to side.

  Several miles away, the winds grew in intensity as the storm blew in from the west. While Jack slept soundly, larger waves charged into his area and absorbed the smaller waves, creating rough and violent seas.

  Like a sadistic demon, a rogue wave rolled up on the raft and broke, punishing Jack with a heavy wall of water. Instinctively, he grasped the netting and held on as the water rushed over him. Sitting up, he stared out at the angry ocean that just an hour before, was peaceful and serene.