Eknom's Folly

by Tom Hunter

  “Listen, guys. It’s more than just wanting to explore. There’s something hostile down there.”

  “We know. It nearly killed you,” interrupted Alexia. “We’re not trying to talk you out of it. We’re just saying take a little time.”

  Thomas looked around him and saw the concern on their faces. He opened his mouth to plead his case, but Pediah stopped him. “Tell them what you told me,” he encouraged.

  “I don’t want to scare them,” Thomas whispered.

  Pediah laughed, “After what we’ve all been through? I don’t think that’s possible anymore.”

  “Would someone please explain?” exclaimed Abby, exasperated by the seemingly private conversation. She’d seen them whispering, Pediah’s hand on Thom’s shoulder. Thank goodness for Pediah, she thought. Every once in a while, he could talk some sense into Thomas. But, it didn’t look like this would be one of those times.

  “Sorry, Abby,” Thomas said sheepishly. “We think we’re being watched.”

  “Thank God. I thought I was the only one,” admitted Abby

  “Did you see the…“Robbie began.

  “You, too?” asked Pediah.

  Robbie nodded, “Some kind of movement in the shadows.”

  “Great. Now that we’re all on the same page, who’s in?” Thomas asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

  He was startled when a few members from Pediah’s spelunking team stepped forward and said in one voice, “We are.”

  There were about five or six of them, he noted; a mix of students and volunteers who’d raised their hands to join. Fresh faced and eager, Thomas knew they were no strangers to hard work. But, they’d spent most of their days topside. Down in the caves was different. He suddenly had visions of a young Howard, who had paid for his eagerness and impulsiveness with his life.

  Thomas shared glances with his team who all nodded their agreement. “Welcome!” he said. “Come on down. Geez, I feel like the host on the Price is Right.” Everyone chuckled as they turned back toward the entrance of the cave.

  A soft voice Thomas didn’t recognize, chimed in softly to answer his quip. “That’s funny, ‘cause I feel like a contestant on a game show. Except, what’s behind door number three, could eat me.”

  Thomas almost laughed. She’s not wrong, he thought, a bemused smile playing at his lips.

  “Shhh! Harriett,” someone else admonished her. The girl named Harriett laughed, “Well, it’s true!”

  Thomas smiled broadly, content with the world. He couldn’t have a better team—the more immediate—Pediah, Abby, Alexia, even Robbie, as well as the auxiliary team. He turned to find Alexia walking next to him. She took his hand and squeezed it gently. “O Captain, my captain,” she quipped. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? I mean, you just got out of a hospital bed. Promise me we’ll take lots of breaks,” Alexia remarked.

  “Don’t go all Abby on me,” Thomas smiled. “And isn’t that other line from a movie?”

  Alexia shrugged.

  He squeezed her hand in return, “I promise. Lots of breaks.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, we’re not invalids. We just need to be smart about this.”

  “Yeah, I know. We’ve had a rough go of it these last few…”

  “Yes,” Alexia agreed. She knew what he meant. Then, “While I’m not exactly changing the subject, I’m…redirecting it. I thought I’d ‘pick your brain’ about your thoughts on what we found in the chamber.”

  Thomas laughed, “I don’t know how much ‘picking’ I’m good for these days, but I’ll give it a shot. Here’s what we know so far. One, every encounter with those things that dwell below has been violent. Two, Noah is hot on our trail and has found himself some ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ goons…” Thomas paused for a second. “Hmmm. What if the hostile cave dwellers are simply responding to the hostiles, i.e. Noah and company?” he suggested.

  “Huh,” began Alexia, “now there’s a thought.” She put her finger to her lips and began to tap. Thomas couldn’t help but smile at this little quirk of hers.

  “Maybe, we should try to find Noah’s campsite, so we can have the police round them up,” she ventured.

  “That would be great. There are just a couple of problems with that idea. First, I don’t want to put anyone in danger. Though I know that’s the name of the game—the job—of the police to catch the criminals. A stickier point is that the problem with Noah is that there’s never any proof. I mean, he didn’t kill Howard, Miss Welker did. He didn’t shoot at us. Ramon, his mercenaries, and Miss Welker did. He didn’t threaten to assassinate us—Peter did. See how he’s always just out of reach?”

  “I think I may have a way around it. I just need a little time to work on it.”

  As they’d talked, their stride keeping pace with their conversation, they found they were closer to the chamber than they’d at first realized. They’d made good time. Thomas could just see the depression in the wall; an outline of the door, though they still had a bit of walking to do. Suddenly, not quite understanding why, Thomas stopped.

  It was becoming a sixth sense for him now; the feeling of sands shifting beneath his feet—even a tiny amount. The rumblings were a warning of a coming danger. Alexia stopped when he stopped, her ears not yet attuned to the sounds of stone grinding on stone.

  Alexia simply watched Thomas. He stood still as a statue, alert, and tense. Something was wrong. He was looking for the others, she imagined. They’d walked fast, lost in their own little world.

  Thomas shook his head, mentally berating himself for not making sure he’d stuck closer to his team. He should have ensured they stayed nearer to him.

  He visibly relaxed and sighed audibly when he heard Robbie. He’d never been so glad to hear the kid’s voice, and almost laughed when Robbie shouted, “Seriously!” amidst a chorus of “what’s going on?” and “did you hear that?”

  Good. They hadn’t gone too far. Thomas reached deep, for a voice he knew would carry throughout the chamber, echoing into all the darkest corners, and bellowed, “Take cover!”

  Four

  Survival reflexes kicked in as Thomas pushed Alexia toward cover. Pediah’s wavering voice exclaimed, “Not again! Everyone watch your step!” He knew his team could take care of themselves, but only he and Thomas had ever been through something like this before.

  Robbie’s head turned just in time to see a loosened stalactite plummet toward Abby. In a race against time, Robbie rushed forward and pushed Abby away from danger.

  Thomas turned. “Abby!”

  “I’m fine! Check on the others!” fired Abby in return. Then, “Look out!” as she watched another stone break from the ceiling. She watched as people slipped, slid, and dove for cover against the heaving earth’s efforts to shake them from its back.

  “Thomas, we’ve got to turn back,” Alexia said, as she pulled at his arm and watched the destruction unfold. Visions of shifting sands funneling into sand slides filled her mind. She struggled to pull him to safety as she frantically looked for cover.

  Without speaking, Thomas looked at Alexia and shook his head. She understood and let go of his arm. Behind her, he caught Pediah’s eye, and in the nonverbal language of two people who’d worked so closely together suffering the same dangers could understand, Thomas Knight bent his head forward only once. This was so much more violent than the first quake event they’d experienced. Thomas and Pediah scanned the area for cover, and the crowd for injuries. Both prayed they wouldn’t lose anyone else.

  “Guys, the stone overhangs!” Thomas shouted. “They’re your best bet for cover! Let the, um, the storm pass.”

  As he spoke, he noticed Harriet, one of Pediah’s most trusted. Thomas looked and saw a rogue stalactite, which had loosed itself from its perch. It was aimed directly at her.

  “Harriet!” shouted Thomas. “Move!” As the words left his lips, she looked up, and stumbled. She’d caught herself from falling flat on the ground and was pushing herself up to
safety when the rock finished its descent. She cried out in a twisted mask of agony as it dealt a crushing blow to her legs.

  Thomas rushed toward her, with Robbie hot on his heels. Oh God, she’s only 22 years old, thought Thomas. His mind rushed through what to do. As he and Robbie reached her limp form, he heard Robbie exclaim, “We’ve got this! Please stand back.”

  Harriet was tall and athletic. The stone would have hit someone smaller or heavier in their middle, crushing the life out of them.

  “Robbie, stop trying to roll –” Harriet’s screams cut off Thomas Knight’s directives.

  “I don’t know how else to get the rock off her legs,” muttered Robbie, frustrated.

  “We’ve got to work fast,” explained Thomas, as he looked for more rogue stalactites, and wanted to be sure everyone remained where they were. They would be safest under the stone overhangs.

  “Her legs—I’m sorry Harriet—her legs are surely crushed. We need to lift the stone—or at least lift it enough that we can roll it off without doing any more damage,” said Thomas, frantically.

  Robbie nodded. “I’ve got this side.”

  “Good. Lift it. There. A little higher,” encouraged Thomas. “You doing okay?” he asked, looking at Harriet. She nodded, though her eyes told a different story. He twisted his lips in chagrin. She’d never walk again.

  “Got… it….Oof!” There was a loud thud as Robbie lifted and dropped the stalactite away from Harriet. “It’ll be easier if I just scoop her up. Two of us might cause too much jostling. Don’t you think?”

  Thomas started to answer, when he heard a new sound. The rumbling had subsided, but now a scraping sound had his attention.

  “Do it quickly, Robbie. There’s something else…” and his voice trailed off, as he listened for something Robbie couldn’t yet hear.

  Robbie nodded, Harriet already in his arms, and turned toward the nearest outcropping for cover. Thomas watched as Alexia, Abby, and Pediah came forward to help Robbie.

  A low moan escaped Harriett’s lips as the others gathered around. Someone had accidentally bumped her raw, crushed legs.

  His immediate team looked okay, he thought. Though most boasted bumps and bruises, aside from Harriett, the remainder were essentially, unharmed. However, their furtive glances, waiting for the next rumble or stalactite projectile to fall, had left them visibly shaken.

  “We need a medical team down here right away. Anyone who’s mobile, go back up. Get yourselves checked out. But, send medics down here immediately,” ordered Thomas. He turned to Harriet. “You are a very brave woman. Anyone else would have been screaming their bloody head off. But, you must know. Part of it is shock. When the pain hits you”—he looked to Pediah and Abby—“and it will, it’s okay to give into it. Try to scream into something—a belt, a shirt, anything. Or with any luck, Abby’s got something to take the edge off.” He winked at Abby, hoping she’d brought her tiny flask of whisky. This girl would need it, and soon.

  Abby smiled, patted her pack, and explained, “Us girl scouts are always prepared.”

  Thomas chuckled, glad to see a thin smile on Harriet, and said softly, “See? What’d I tell you?” Then to the others, “Okay guys, we’ve got to back up topside quickly. Let’s get some help down here. And pray we don’t stumble into another quake.”

  As one unit, everybody who wasn’t staying to take care of Harriet joined him. As they began the trek back topside, no one spoke. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts.

  Robbie and Alexia, still shaken from the ordeal just a few days before, tried to put on a brave face for the others.

  Alexia’s heart went out to Thomas. She knew he was worried and frustrated. She was scared, too, but refused to let it show. She looked sideways at Robbie and tried to get a read on him. She was surprised to find him pensive and contemplating.

  Robbie thought not only of the ordeals they’d all been through so recently and tried to imagine what his wife must have felt and gone through. He wondered if they—she and her father—had felt the same things he felt in situations like this one.

  Thomas winced, his thoughts singularly focused on his team, as he prayed no more dangers befell them. At least, not for a little while. Give us time to catch our breath, he pleaded silently, to whomever happened to be listening. Great. One quake was worse than the next. My people are getting killed and maimed. And now, some kind of scraping sound beneath our feet. What the hell is going on, and what have we stumbled into?

  Five

  Reaching for his—he’d lost count—next cup of coffee, Noah Ashbridge idly wondered if he would be considered a chain coffee drinker. Rather than a chain smoker. Well, everyone needs a vice, an outlet, he thought to himself.

  The cool air was a welcome respite from the oppressive heat outside, though his damp handkerchief suggested the opposite. He glanced out his window relieved to see the warm hues of a setting sun.

  Why not, he thought. I’ve seen it rise. It’s only fair I get to see it set. How many rotations have I witnessed this week, I wonder?

  As his state-of-the-art electronics hummed and the gentle, inviting waters of the hot tub beckoned, Noah Ashbridge wrapped his arm around the Rosetta-like tablet. He pressed the tablet against the open journal, willing it to give him the answers he so desperately sought.

  Both items stayed silent.

  “What was that Grandmother said about ‘closing a window and opening a door?’ Hmm…what if…” he mumbled to himself, as a long-forgotten memory came to call. Inspired, he closed the book, closed his eyes, and let his mind drift, if only for a few seconds. He couldn’t sleep. Not yet.

  Inhaling the coolness of his RV, Noah hoped that his efforts would at last bear fruit and opened the journal. He began to turn the pages, slowly. He took in each page, as one might immerse themselves in a painting. And with that thought in mind, he was surprised to see just that: a painting. No, he corrected himself, an etching. He must have skipped over it before.

  He’d thought it gibberish before, the indecipherable-looking runic letters, but not now. These appeared on the second of the three columns on the stone, with Shoshone and Spanish on either side.

  “Of course! It’s a language.” No, not just a language. A puzzle of sorts.

  He’d wondered why his translations had seemed so disjointed. He’d assumed, as had Miss Welker, that if one column could be translated, then the other translatable column would say the same thing.

  We were both wrong. The keys to solving the puzzle are within each translation. You have to know all three to understand. It was a guide of some kind. Something like a…

  Eagerly arranging his desk so the tablet and the journal lay side by side, Noah reached for another cup of coffee. He had an idea now, a plan, and a map. The damn tablet was a map! Or at least part of a map.

  As he translated the text, he pushed himself away from his desk from time to time to slow his rapidly beating heart. He was getting closer. So close he could taste the treasure on the other side.

  The translated text spoke of an ancient drum called Eknom’s Folly. It could control those creatures he, Thomas, and their teams had seen beneath the caves.

  “Kisgar,” he had read aloud. Then, “to control for battle. To conquer armies…” his voice trailed off as he pulled himself back up to his desk. He smoothed the pages of his grandfather’s journal and re-read the remainder of what he’d translated.

  It wasn’t as direct as he’d have liked, but the point was easily made: thinly stretched hide over a wooden frame makes the sound of rumbling stone when struck. Noah’s heart skipped a beat.

  It’s a drum.

  Noah breathed the words with reverence, images of such a simple thing filling his mind with plans and ideas. Best not get too eager. What else does this thing say?

  Is that a “g”? No, an “S”. Then, out loud, he read slowly, “sealed in the temple of…” Damn! He couldn’t make out the last word. Sealed where? What temple? The sweet smell of victory was just out o
f his grasp.

  The rest of the text was easy enough to read, though Noah had the feeling he’d heard this before. His spine tingled at a feeling he couldn’t shake, and he read on.

  Sun-baked bricks of reddish-rust and shades of brown, etched with engravings on their facings, stepped in an inverted temple design. Mesopotamian era. Mexican Ziggurats.

  A large pedestal displays a sphere. Ancient writing encircles the sphere, the only clue to its purpose. Upon the pedestal, in front of the sphere, an ancient animal skin drum.

  On the chamber walls, cave paintings—humans, large and small, had raised these reptilian creatures; each step of life depicted in the paintings…and a single word, a name it seemed, woven throughout.

  Chu’mana…Chu’mana…Noah flipped to the earliest pages of the journal. There was a legend there which offered a bare bones foray into the language with a basic alphabet structure. He wondered at the name. He felt instinctively it was a name, though he couldn’t put his finger on why.

  Noah knew the word must be important. But, already spent from the long hours he’d worked on the translation, he leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and imagined the power of the drum.

  What if the creatures—the Kisgar?—are the same ones we saw tear through the stone? Then, what price might they bring? It wouldn’t even have to be black market.

  They could be used in construction…though that could go right to the heart of the underworld. He folded his fingers together as the possibilities gathered in his mind. Endless possibilities.

  Construction creatures that could build and kill for you all with the swipe of their claws. Noah smiled at his thoughts, and a plan began to form.

  “It all bears further study,” he mumbled to himself, “but two tangible items I must have are that drum, Eknom’s Folly, and more of these texts—the humanoid writings—to more fully understand their culture.”

  But, since he never got his hands dirty in his dirty dealings, he needed someone who could do it for him. He reached for his phone and dialed Miss Welker. Before he could hang up, she had arrived at his door. There was no need to give an order. She came as soon as called.