A few more names passed before the last notable student spoke up.
“Dylan Sharp.”
“Yeah, uh, I mean, here, sir,” said a nervous young man. He was a row behind and a few seats toward the center from where Sydney sat. The first detail anyone would notice about him was the flaming red hair. It stood up in a strange imitation of an afro, despite his ghostly pale skin. He was so short, only his hair was clearly seen over the desk at the angle Jonas looked from. His pale hand waved to show he was present.
“Mhm,” grunted Calhoun. He made the check and moved down the list. Finally, he arrived at the end and spoke the last name.
"Johnathan Quartermain."
"Jonas," said Jonas.
"What?"
"Jonas, that's my name,” he said brightly.
Confused, the professor looked down at his clipboard, then back up at the offending student. He sighed, crossed out 'Johnathan' and replaced it with 'Jonas'.
"Jonas Quartermain."
"Here."
"Okay. Welcome to Archaeology 101. I am Professor Nicholas Calhoun. That's Professor Calhoun or Professor to you." The man looked hunched and weathered. He sounded beat down by time. "Some of you have signed up for this course with a false impression in your heads. Archeologists are not like Indiana Jones. Archeology is about sifting through dirt and sand with a toothbrush in the hope of finding a piece of pottery the size of your pinky nail. You'll do that for twelve hours a day, six days a week while on a dig. Then you'll do paperwork the rest of your free time. This course will focus generally on the techniques used to locate and process a dig, and the proper paperwork to access and catalogue a dig. Many of you will drop out due to the sheer boredom, and many of those who don't will change majors to become a lawyer. It's easier on the body and mind. This career path is not filled with glory, recognition, or even success a large amount of the time."
Jonas was not deterred. He knew deep in his gut that Indiana Jones was the way his career would go in archeology. Due to his unwavering focus on his future, he was shocked when half of the class quietly left the lecture hall after the professor's diatribe. He couldn’t understand why someone would think the life of an archeologist wouldn’t be interesting.
He raised his hand and spoke without waiting to be called on. "Professor, we hear about successful digs all the time! What about Tutankhamen?"
Calhoun sighed like he had heard the same argument a thousand times before, wiped his face with a hand and addressed the impulsive question. "You hear about the successful digs because they're successful. What you don't hear about is the decades of research and failed digs before the one that succeeded."
"I'm going to be successful,” Jonas said with a confidence born only in the bravado and ignorance of youth.
“Wish in one hand and shit in the other,” Calhoun responded. The students perked up. They were all freshmen, and none had encountered a teacher willing to swear in front of their charges before. “See where that gets you.”
“What’s that even mean?” Asked Jodie.
“It means that if you just wish for something, it’s as good as shitting in your hand. In the end, all you’re left with is nothing. It means you need to work your ass off for years before any kind of recognition. You need to be lucky as hell. You can work under the glaring sun every day for decades, make minor discoveries every week, and still be a nobody making pennies when the jackass you roomed with went on to medical school and makes a hundred thousand a year.”
Calhoun caught himself, surprised he had been wound up like that by a student.
“Tell us about your field work,” said Simon.
“I didn’t intend for this first class to be a question-and-answer session,” Calhoun said back.
“If you’re so intent on making us leave, give us a real reason to!” Shouted a different student. Jonas didn’t see who it was, and he didn’t care.
“Let me get through the introduction, kid.”
Jonas spoke up. “No, I want to hear about your time as an archeologist too.”
Calhoun sighed from deep in his soul. It was a weary action that carried decades of wear-and-tear with it. “Fine. Fine, I’ll tell you about it.”
He turned to his desk, then sat behind it with a sudden motion. He grasped his coffee mug and took a sip before beginning.
“I was a kid, just like you, in college. My professor was given an opportunity to take the class on a trip to Utah for a dig. We flew out as a class, then spent a week under the baking sun. Nothing happened for the first few days except back-breaking labor. We dug for twelve hours or more. I ate twice a day, and they had water always on hand. They didn’t strictly act like they were disappointed when we didn’t keep digging, but we were young and naïve. So, we worked like slaves.”
“Hey, that’s racist!” Shouted that same voice from behind. Jonas craned his head over the row behind him and saw the interrupting student. He was black, handsome, and massive on a scale that looked unreal to Jonas. He was a living wall of muscle, putting even Elliott to shame.
“What is your name?” Asked Calhoun.
“Madsen.”
“Madsen what?”
“Just Madsen.”
“Ah, just Madsen, like just Madonna, or just Cher.”
The class erupted in laughter, which only made Madsen angrier.
“Whatever, racist-ass honky. I’m out,” he said as he stood gathered his textbook and bag, then left.
“That seemed like a bit much,” said Jodie. She turned back to Calhoun. “Please continue, professor.”
He watched the departing student with disinterest, then continued his story.
“On the fourth day of the trip, I made a discovery. Yes, me,” he said as if to ward off questions. “I struck something with my shovel that sounded different from the rock and dirt I had been digging up. The site supervisor was fifty feet away drinking an ice-cold beer under the shade of an awning. I carefully started to excavate the bone. It was massive.”
With the last few sentences, Jonas watched the excitement spark and grow in Calhoun’s eyes. He was back at the dig, making the discovery all over again. Finding dinosaur bones in the Utah desert.
“Nobody checked on me for an hour. I didn’t stop for water or anything. Finally, someone did wander over. They shouted to the site supervisor who immediately shoved me out of the way. He took credit for my work from the start. When it was written up, my name never even appeared on the paper. That was my first find, and far from the last time I was not given credit of any kind.”
“But you were just a digger then,” Jonas said.
“And that’s the deal right there, kid. If you’re not the lead on the dig, you’re nothing.”
“Then I’ll be the lead on a big find.”
Calhoun shook his head. "Whatever, kid. I think that’s enough time given over to questions. Let’s get started on the real meat of archaeology: paperwork."
Jonas settled back into his seat. He had always sailed effortlessly through classes, so for the first time in his life, he prepared to take notes. Even if he had to do some of the boring stuff, it would be worth it to him. He would find something, and then would be famous for it. He knew it.
2
After the first month, Professor Calhoun knew that of his twelve students, the five that had spoken up the first day were the ones to watch. Sydney Cooper, Simon Fleming, Jodie Miller, Dylan Sharp, and especially Jonas Quartermain. Jonas was a thorn in his side. The boy’s unrelenting drive had him turning in work he had rarely seen in ten years of teaching.
He held a weekly discussion of everything they had learned to have the lessons sink in deeper. They discussed ethics, legality, paperwork, and even methodologies for a dig. He maintained a garden on University grounds to run practice digs. It was a change of pace, something the students enjoyed. The vast majority of time was spent studying various laws around excavations and exports. International law was a tricky beast, growing more difficult with each passing year.
He watched as the teens grew both physically and mentally. They matured from children in young-adult bodies to actual adults, if a bit naïve. Jodie grew even taller, nearing six feet. Her curves were a distraction on sunny days when she chose to wear outfits that were borderline inappropriate. Her shorts hugged her rear and her boots only covered her ankles, leaving a lot of leg exposed.
Sydney failed to break out of her shell, but she too grew. She remained a smaller woman with a mousey complexion and attitude. She was very knowledgeable, yet she was hesitant to speak up unless he specifically called on her. He made sure to include her in every conversation. In fact, he had taken a liking to her because of her intelligence and diligence. She was his number two student in all four classes.
Simon was a true surprise. The laid-back surfer-type had transplanted from California. He had never changed his attitude, yet seemed to always have a ready answer. It wasn’t correct every time, but he showed willingness to learn. The young man also grew larger as he continued down his bodybuilding path. He was as large as some professional football players.
Dylan was another surprise. While initially shy, he shone in class. He was ready to start conversations and discuss any point with not only Calhoun, but the rest of the class. He dressed well, especially for a college student. At one point, Calhoun overheard the young man talking about the family business. They owned the largest private construction company in Ohio, and he was taking archaeology courses to be able to assess anything of value found during foundation building.
Then there was Jonas Quartermain. The young man had ‘no chill’, as the kids were fond of saying. He had his hand raised for every single question. He had to participate in every conversation, often with answers that had eluded others. He was infuriatingly well informed. His know-it-all attitude drove the other students away. More than once, Calhoun caught him with textbooks from future courses. Try as he might, he couldn’t break the young man’s foolhardy notion of being just like Indiana Jones.
Then there was his physical growth. Over two years, he watched the young man reach a height of six-two. Yet, despite the constant physical effort that never seemed to wind the young man, he maintained a soft body. He had a small but noticeable gut, and his arms and legs lacked definition. He was confused until he heard Jonas moaning about a hangover one Wednesday morning. Then he put it all together. Even while maintaining a three-point-seven average, an impressive feat in itself, he was partying every night. He even gathered that Madsen had become a fast friend and fellow party fiend.
Jonas and Elliott slowly drifted apart. While Jonas studied hard and partied harder, Elliott studied and dove full-time into working out. He worked part-time at the gym to pay his fees. He had become an instructor after winning a local body-building contest. The brick wall became a brick house. He weighed nearly two-hundred-thirty pounds of lean muscle. He was approaching the ‘uncanny valley’, a relatively new term that discussed the aesthetics of humans and humanoid objects. His muscles were so uncanny that some thought he was fake.
Two years into his degree, Jonas started reluctantly taking additional courses to round out his education. The basic courses bored him to tears, but he gave them the same level of effort as the archaeology courses, if only so that he could complete them that much faster. He was a model student, something that shocked his fellow partiers. He somehow balanced the insanity of partying throughout the week with getting his schoolwork done.
As he began his junior year, the first major moment of Jonas’ college career arrived in Calhoun’s class. The dozen students left were all gathered in the front two rows so that the professor didn’t have to raise his voice to be heard. He sat on his desk, once more calling forth the image of Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones.
“Ladies and gentlemen, those of you left have a rare opportunity. Our school has been approached by Umbra, a private organization, for a sponsored dig in Egypt. They reached out to the head of the Archaeology department as well as me specifically. I have worked with their representative before. They are offering a short-term internship to a handful of students in the program, which will last for up to three months. This means you can get real world experience as an archeologist. You will not be paid, but you will have food and lodgings handled for you by the company. This is about as good as it gets in Archeology. Signups will be by the door for the next week.”
Jonas was already halfway out of his seat before the last sentence had been finished.
Calhoun already had a hand up. "Sit down Mister Quartermain. You will have the opportunity to sign up after class. Are there any questions?"
Jonas awkwardly sat as the other students quietly snickered. He didn't want to miss out. He had a gut feeling he was meant to go on the trip.
“If we go on the trip, what happens with our other classes?” Asked Jodie. She had proved herself time and again to be the most level-headed.
“That is an excellent question, Miss Miller. It will ultimately depend on your other professors, however most I have spoken with have already agreed to waive classwork for the semester. You will only have to worry about the work at hand if you go to Egypt.”
Dylan raised his hand and waited to be called on. Calhoun waited a moment before calling on the red-haired youth.
“Yes, Dylan?”
“Professor Calhoun, why was our school chosen? Why us? And why you in particular?”
Calhoun sighed before he started to explain.
“About twenty years ago I worked with Umbra on a project in Egypt. Now, due to the NDA I signed, I can’t tell you what we worked on. However, it started a long-term business relationship. I last worked directly for them about ten years ago, before accepting the position here. I have stayed in touch with my associate, and in fact did a research trip just recently with him. This trip is the result of what we found the last time we were in Cairo.”
Satisfied, Dylan sat back. Then Simon spoke up.
“What does ‘food and lodgings taken care of’ mean in this context?”
“It means you’ll have a bed and food. Probably a military surplus cot and MREs, based on previous trips I’ve taken. Beyond that, I don’t know. Anything else? No? Then we’ll continue with the lesson.”
When the class finally ended, Jonas attempted to causally walk down to the sheet.
'Archeology 302 Field Trip:
Destination: Cairo, Egypt
Dates: January 1-31, 1984 (Can be extended without warning for up to 60 days)
Round-trip flight, housing, and meals will be provided.
Applicants must have completed Archaeology 201 course or higher and have current passport.'
"Damn, I don't have a passport," Jonas whined quietly.
Calhoun put a hand on Jonas’ shoulder. "Relax, Quartermain. Sign up, we all know you want to. The school counselor can help you with the passport process."
"Uh, yeah, thanks Professor."
Jonas dutifully wrote his name down as Jonas Quartermain.
"Are you sure that's the name you want to put down? It's checked against your passport before you can leave on the field trip."
Calhoun betrayed nothing as he looked at Jonas. Sheepishly, Jonas scratched out 'Jonas' and replaced it with 'Johnathan'. Calhoun nodded and waved Jonas away. Free for the next few hours, Jonas immediately made his way to student counseling.
3
Jonas entered the room under the sign that said ‘Student Counseling’. He looked around the stark, bleak office. A woman sat behind a tall desk, and a single open door led to a short hallway behind and to her left.
"Yes, young man?" The matronly woman behind the reception desk had perfected her greeting, which was neither warm, nor welcoming, but an order for information.
"I need to talk to the student counselor about getting a passport," he said hesitantly.
She shook her head. "The counselor’s office has posted hours. You can return then."
Jonas shook his head. "Please, I just need to know how to get my passpor
t. It's very important. It’s for a work-trip for the Archaeology program."
"There is nothing so important that I need to break the rules, young man," her tone grew colder at the mere concept of her bending one of the sacred rules of the institution.
"This is life or death! Make or break! My whole future career is at stake!" He was truly distraught. The thought of missing out on the trip made his stomach cramp.
Seemingly amused by his outburst, she hid a faint smile behind a cough. "Go on down to the pharmacy, ask the owner about passports. Unfortunately, the University will not be able to help with the application or fees due to the nature of the project. You could ask your Professor for assistance. Go on now, I'm busy."
Confused, Jonas thanked her and left the administration building. He had never traveled outside of the state, let alone the country, so he had never needed to apply for something like the passport. As such, he had no idea how the process worked. On top of that, the thought of asking Calhoun for help made him hesitate. The man was an excellent teacher, but his teaching method was firmly based on the students doing the work themselves. Jonas had a strong feeling the professor would not help him procure a passport.
He walked across campus, trying to clear his head. The cold November air bit at him, forcing him to draw his jacket tighter. He was worried something would come up, that he wouldn’t be able to put the money together in just six weeks for the passport. Before he knew it, he was standing outside a store called ‘Holcomb’s Pharmacy’. It was empty at that time of day, save for a bored teen at the front register, and a man hidden behind a newspaper at the back counter. She watched him idly, snapping her gum.
Jonas browsed the shelves. He saw over-the-counter medications such as allergy-alleviating pills, headache pills and powders, and antacids. The shelves closest to the register had a small collection of candy, with the brightest located directly under the register where kids would see it. He did not find any drinks. Disappointed, he approached the man behind the second counter.
Rakitaki: A Jonas Quartermain Adventure Page 2
