Eknom's Folly
Page 12
“The Kisgar and the Woidnuk once coexisted quite peacefully. The animals were quite strong, and useful in helping us to build our humble dwellings.” He paused. “To protect themselves from friendly hands hiding poisoned knives, a law was created. But, it would not be implemented until a young brash clan member decided to wrest power from the sitting chief.”
Not a pin dropped as Lt. Whipkey spoke. He looked around at the wide-eyed wonder of Thomas Knight and his team, and the lowered heads of the Woidnuk, who’d lived it.
In a solemn voice, he continued, “The Woidnuk are a collective of several clans. Beyond the benefit of digging out tunnels and paths for easier travel, the Kisgar also helped them hunt for food. Vegetation does not exist so easily either down here or in the desert. But, there are species that don’t require sunlight that can be found by those who know how.”
He gave them time to process what they heard, and himself time to gather his thoughts.
Sighing, Lt. Whipkey took a deep breath, and plunged forward. “It was about two hundred years ago that young Eknom decided to mount his campaign. He believed the Woidnuk should not hide in the depths below Death Valley, but that they should take back the surface world.” He shook his head. “His idea was to use the Kisgar to attack surface dwellers. By sheer dumb luck, discovered it was a drumbeat that could control them. The drum you have taken. But, his plan worked too well. The sound whipped the animals into a crazed frenzy.
“The Woidnuk renamed the drum ‘Eknom’s Folly’ and sealed it up in an incomplete temple they could not finish because an outsider had discovered and looted it. Hence the puzzle latch you discovered, Mr. Knight.
“And that’s why there was only the drum and a couple of scrolls…” Thomas trailed off as he remembered. “You wrote the English line on the scrolls. A last-ditch warning to anyone who would follow the folly of Eknom’s pride.
“What happened when Eknom beat the drum was more than simple pride, a folly. It nearly destroyed not only the Woidnuk civilization, but ours as well. The ramifications, should it happen again, would be…catastrophic.”
As Lt. Whipkey spoke, Thomas half-listened as he recalled Noah’s frantic search only a month before. He was on a mission. A personal mission. The thought struck Thomas like a lightning bolt and suddenly, the theft of the journal made sense. Howard’s death, he realized, wasn’t part of Noah’s original plan. The boy got brave at the worst possible time.
“Outside of the men shooting at you when we arrived, are we the first outsiders, er surface dwellers, to encounter a Woidnuk?”
Mochni, Lt. Whipkey, and Mochni’s mother, Chu’mana, spoke quickly in their own tongue. After a bit of back and forth, Lt. Whipkey sent everyone back to their places with a flourish. To Thomas and his team, he explained, “It’s rather a touchy subject, I’m afraid.”
“I see that.”
“Your question addresses a much more recent history,” began Lt. Whipkey, as he thought back. “I believe it was sixty, no seventy years ago, now, not long before I—“
“You fell into the Woidnuk village?” offered Thomas with a smile, which Whipkey returned.
“Hmmm…it was rumored another surface-dweller had stolen a wealth of treasure from a clan of ours to the north, though those details are…sketchy. Our clans are not as close as we once were. Call it a combination of Eknom’s Folly’s effect on the Kisgar, the increased population of surface dwellers we strive to avoid, and simple logistics. It’s difficult for us to traverse great distances, though it is done from time to time as needed.” After a short pause, he continued, “Because Eknom was a member of this clan, we are the keepers of Eknom’s Folly. It was why we sealed the temple and why I wrote on the scrolls in English.” He furrowed his brow, searching for the words, “You see, anyone with the drum can control the Kisgar. It doesn’t have to be a Woidnuk, but it can be; another reason we don’t associate with those in the north. They’ve had designs on the drum for quite some time. They seem to have forgotten the disaster that ensued when it was first made, so …” he let the implication hang, and watched Thomas Knight’s expression. He wanted to trust him. He’d helped save them from those men with the guns, but safety for his adopted people was a priority.
A voice interrupted his thoughts as he weighed the strength of his trust in Thomas Knight and his team.
“We followed Mochni down here,” began Robbie. “Will he lead us back to the surface so we can get the drum, I mean Eknom’s Folly, and return it to its rightful place in the chamber?”
Lt. Whipkey said nothing in answer, and instead turned to the guards. He gave a command given in the Woidnuk language, and the guards jumped to their duty. They rounded up Thomas Knight and his team, and led them down a path away from the center of the village.
“Hey, what’s going on?” shouted Thomas. “We can help!” he threw back over his shoulder.
Lt. Whipkey pursed his lips. “I know you want to help,” he said quietly. “But, if Eknom’s Folly has gone to the surface, no one is safe.”
Thirty
The heat of the noonday sun had driven everyone inside the nearest tent. Miss Welker heard plenty of noise from the mess tent, and assumed most were cooling off as they grabbed a bite.
Dressed in the standard issue khakis of the archeology world, Miss Welker blended in seamlessly. She nodded cordially to those she’d made friends with, especially her tent mates, and navigated unwanted questions with aplomb.
“Where did you come from?” they might ask, not really requiring an answer, but only to make conversation. Miss Welker was glad for that. She would smile, and with a quick flutter of her hand, the conversation would move on to things she was willing to answer.
“Birdie!” she heard a man’s voice calling to her. “Birdie!” the voice called again. Ah, Matthews. She turned to see him approach with a man by his side. At any other time and in any other world, she might have considered him a dandy: white suit, white hat, even a walking stick to complete the ensemble, she observed, a bemused smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Matthews made the introductions. “Dr. Cunningham, I’d like to introduce you to Birdie, um”—he realized suddenly he didn’t know her last name. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, and he finished the introduction saying, “She’s one of the new people you sent to offer help here at the dig site.”
Dr. Donald Cunningham smiled, and shook the woman’s hand, as he remarked almost offhandedly, “I’m afraid I haven’t hired anyone new, Matthews. I’ve been too busy helping with security details to focus on gathering more bodies,” he explained as he sized Miss Welker up. Who was this woman? He wondered. Matthews’ furrowed brow spoke volumes.
Matthews shook his head, leveling his gaze at Miss Welker.
“I’m confused. You said—“.
She had to act fast if she didn’t want her cover blown. “I’m sorry, Matthews. I wasn’t entirely straight with you,” she admitted.
He breathed a sigh of relief and began, “but, why?”
“I’m an old friend of Thom’s, you see. We worked together on a shipwreck excavation once,” she explained. “I don’t think he talks about it much. Noah Ashbridge was on the same team, and well…” she shrugged. “Things didn’t go so well for Thom. In fact, he nearly died, or rather, Noah left him for dead. In the end, it’s all pretty much the same—six of one, half a dozen of the other, wouldn’t you say?” she finished.
Her eyes blazed fury at having to mention Noah’s name, then, “Well, first, he stole all of Thom’s findings then, in an effort to make a quick buck, sold the treasures he’d stolen from Thom on the black market.” By now, she was spitting nails as she told her tale.
Dr. Cunningham, only half believing her story, shared aloud, “Ah, then it must have been Thomas who hired you, yes?”
She nodded.
Matthews frowned. She was angry, sure, but just a little glib, too. He’d have to watch her, he determined.
Before Miss Welker could apologize, Dr. Cunning
ham spoke to Matthews explaining, “Thomas was worried about spies infiltrating the camp. So, it stands to reason, he’d want to choose someone he could trust.”
Miss Welker followed with an apology. “I’m sorry I misled you. I had to make sure you weren’t a spy in the camp,” she explained.
Matthews pointed to himself aghast. “Me? A spy? That’s ridiculous!” he sputtered, his face growing flush as he recalled the thoughts he’d had of her.
“We had such a lovely conversation the other night, Stephen,” she began, as she reached out to lightly brush his arm with her fingertips. “I didn’t want to…ruin anything,” she explained. Her insinuations had hit home as Matthews blustered, “Oh, we can talk about that later. It’s been a pleasure meeting you. But, um, I’ve got to meet with some folks from the comms team in a few minutes,” he explained as he checked his watch, but didn’t move.
Without missing a beat, Miss Welker turned to Donald Cunningham, and asked smoothly, “So, any word from the team?”
“Shall we discuss things somewhere more comfortable? Thomas’ tent?” asked Dr. Cunningham with a knowing smile. Miss Welker nodded her assent, but before moving to follow him, she turned again to Matthews.
“I’m truly sorry,” she said quietly. “Can you ever forgive me? I was just doing what I thought best,” she explained. Her sultry gaze fixed on him said more than her words.
Thirty-One
Shoved into their confines like so many cattle, Robbie and the others shouted their frustrations as the stone door slammed shut behind them. Crushed by the weight of the others Robbie landed against a stone bench set against a wall and bounced back, using the leverage he’d gained to rush the solid stone door and pound his fists in frustration and anger.
“Pediah!” Robbie called. “Here. Help me push.”
Pediah strode toward him. He stopped at the sound of Alexia’s calm, matter-of-fact voice.
“It’s pointless, you know,” she said, pointing at the door. “It’s stone. I don’t care how strong you are, that thing isn’t gonna budge.”
Robbie turned his head to glare at her. “And what is pointless about wanting to get out of here?”
Exasperated, she explained, “I didn’t say getting out was pointless.” She put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. “What I said was ‘trying to open that door was pointless.’”
“Ugh, this is going nowhere fast,” Pediah interrupted.
“I’ve got a blooming headache,” complained Abby. “Will you all please shut it.”
“Quiet!” bellowed Thomas. He winced, and turned to Abby with a quick “Sorry.” She shrugged.
Turning to Robbie, he explained, “Though Alexia is correct, it is pointless to try to open that door. There’s a bigger issue here.”
“And that is?” challenged Robbie.
“Let’s say we do get out of here. This cell. But, how do get back topside? The rescue team is with us, and we followed Mochni. We have no idea of the way back. We’re going to need help, and shouting’ll get us nowhere.”
“I see your point,” conceded Robbie. “But, it seems just as pointless not to even try.”
“It is pointless to keep talking in circles about the pointlessness of it all,” snapped Abby. “Now, either get something figured out or sit down and be quiet. I don’t much care at the moment.” Thomas knew it was more than the headache that had her snapping at everyone.
“Sorry, Abby,” Robbie offered.
With a curt nod, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cool, smooth stone. Thomas caught Alexia’s eye and, in unspoken agreement, she moved to sit next to Abby.
In a quiet voice, Thomas offered hope. “There is one advantage.”
As all eyes turned toward him, he explained. “Remember how Mochni had trouble in the sunlight? It was too bright. It repelled him into the shadows.”
Pediah nodded. “That’s true, but…how is that an advantage?”
“Think about it,” Thomas said eagerly, warming to his realization. “If Mochni had seen anything, if he’d known about the drum, he would have said so at the meeting.”
“We have no idea what he knows, Thomas. We don’t know their language. He could have said…” Robbie’s thought trailed off, as he realized he agreed with Thomas.
“Right,” conceded Thomas. “‘Could have’, the operative phrase. But, I don’t think he did. In fact, I think they may come to realize we can be more useful to them out there, rather than in here.”
Robbie shook his head, as he thought, If Thom had been anyone else, he would have let out a wicked ‘mwah-ha-ha.’
“Look guys,” continued Thomas, “I don’t know why they decided to lock us up after we showed our support fighting and listening to the stories. But, then again, after hearing the stories, I can see why they don’t trust anyone. However, I do believe they consider us valuable. Hell, they could have killed us and no one would have been any the wiser. Just another team lost to the caves beneath Death Valley. But, they didn’t.” Thomas paused, took a deep breath, and finished, “So, all our bluster will do now behind these stone doors is to exhaust us. I think we just need to—“.
“Save our energies. Wait and see,” interrupted Alexia, as she finished his sentence. Taking his arm, she stated firmly, “I’m behind Thom 100% on this. Are you?” she asked, looking at each team member in turn.
As each one nodded, Alexia nodded curtly. “Good, it’s settled then.”
Taking their cues from Alexia, the team settled down, strewn across the floor and on the stone bench built into the wall, as they waited for the Woidnuks’ decision.
Thirty-Two
Ramon let the too warm water trickle down his dry throat, thankful he had the water at all, and eyeballed the scene before him. From his perch, he could see some of his men patrolling the grounds of the campsite. He waited impatiently for the latest from those he’d left behind in the caves beneath Death Valley. The shooting match hadn’t gone exactly as he’d planned. The unexpected arrival of Thomas Knight and his team to help the cave dwellers was a definite thorn in his side.
He slung the canteen back over his shoulder and across his chest, freeing his hands to grab his radio. Once tuned to the frequency he’d set for his teams, he listened for reports as he paced the grounds. Most of the time, he could hear the crackle of voices. But, he stopped when he realized there were a few errant blank spots. Curious, he pressed his thumb against the outgoing comms button and asked, “Team 4, what’s your twenty?” No answer.
He moved to another area and tried again. No answer. What’s going on?
A few more tries, and his exasperation had turned to edginess. His radio crackled. “Hey boss, you lookin’ for Team 4?”
Ramon nodded, forgetting they couldn’t see him, and pressed hard on the mic button. “Who do you think I’m lookin’ for when I ask for Team four’s twenty?”
“Chill out, man. I’m only askin’. Hold on, let me check.”
Ramon waited, his nerves on edge.
“Um, hey boss,” the voice began unsteadily. Ramon’s senses were on high alert, and his stomach dropped. “Team 4 went to ground…exploring the caves…”
“I know that,” snapped Ramon. “I sent them down there.”
“Well, uh, sir. They haven’t checked in for over a day.”
Deafening silence filled the air, then Ramon let fly a string of expletives. “Why in the hell am I just finding out now we lost contact!” he bellowed into the radio. “I should have been notified the second they didn’t check in.”
“Yes, sir,” came the reply. Followed quickly by “Sorry, sir.” The comms man was glad Ramon was on the radio and not in front of him as he delivered the news. But, his relief was short-lived, as Ramon burst into the comms tent a few minutes later. He stared wide-eyed at the giant, fuming Brazilian. Nostrils flaring, Ramon fought for self-control.
Then, much to the comms operator’s relief, Ramon straightened, took a deep breath, and seemed to visibly relax.
“Occurred to you?” the comms man repeated.
“Yeah,” Ramon smiled. He was feeling better already. If Team 4 is lost, it will be covered by the contract’s hazard pay. That’s what it’s for.
Turning to the comms man, Ramon’s smile dissolved. “Keep trying to reach ‘em,” ordered Ramon, as he turned and exited the comms tent. I gotta talk to Noah.
As he hoofed it through the camp, Ramon vacillated between anger and frustration. He pounded on Noah’s door the second he arrived. “I need to talk to you, Noah.” Without waiting for Noah to answer, he continued. “We’ve lost contact with Team 4. I think those cave dweller people got ‘em, but I need to be sure,” he explained through the thick aluminum door. “Let me in! Answer me, goddammit! Noo-aaahhh!” He gave the RV door a hefty shove, forcing it open.
“Oh, shit.” Noah had collapsed. His head lolled on his desk, coffee cup on its side, the last of the warm brown liquid, drawing rivulets across everything.
Ramon flung open the door. “Medic! I need a medic. Now!” he demanded.
“What’s going on?” asked a man who was passing by.
“And you are?”
“Field nurse, sir.”
“It’s Noah,” Ramon explained. “I think he’s dead. Is he dead?” As the medic checked Noah, Ramon repeated to himself, “Oh fuck, no. You can’t be dead, you little shit. You just can’t be.” Because if he was, hazard pay, indeed all pay, was out the window.
Thirty-Three
“He’s not dead,” confirmed the medic. “He’s just passed out from exhaustion. Too much caffeine, no sleep, and no food. When’s the last time he ate?”