Eknom's Folly

by Tom Hunter

  Though most of the villagers towered over Whipkey by several feet, their eyes remained on him steadfastly.

  A rumbling sound emanated from the walls. Thomas almost laughed, suddenly realizing he’d heard this sound before. This was what they’d been hearing. Then, they heard a deeper rumbling, as three pint-sized reptilian creatures emerged from the holes and crevices in the walls and took their places at the Woidnuk’s sides. These can’t be the same creatures I fought with so recently. They’re too small, thought Thomas as he watched the lizard like creatures descend. He said as much to Lt. Whipkey, once the ritual came to a close.

  “These animals are like children,” explained Lt. Whipkey. “They have not yet gone through The Change brought about by Eknom’s Folly. They are still quite docile.”

  “What do you mean, The Change?” asked Thomas.

  Lt. Whipkey pursed his lips, took a deep breath, and explained, “Let’s just say, The Change is why the drum must be returned immediately. If you catch my drift.”

  “I see, so the drum acts as some kind of…control?” ventured Thomas.

  Lt. Whipkey nodded, “Something like that,” and smiled. He looked toward Mochni, “Are you ready?”

  Mochni nodded, looked back at his father, and smiled, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Then, Mochni turned toward Thomas Knight and his team and checked their mounts. He raised his hand in a ‘let’s go’ signal, and surprised everyone by exclaiming, “Hi-ho, Silver!”

  Pediah, Robbie, Thomas, and Alexia exchanged glances and laughed in surprise.

  Thirty-Nine

  As always, the sun drove the schedule at Thomas Knight’s camp. Activity had slowed in the later parts of the afternoon, and most had spent a cool few hours in the mess tent escaping the sun and relaxing before their shift.

  Miss Welker spent the time in her own tent. Lacking the air conditioning that drew the others to the mess tent, it was unbearably hot. However, she saw this as a small price to pay to avoid the awkward conversations that would inevitably follow if she were to mix with the others.

  At last, the blast furnace of heat grew slightly less intense. Dusk was beginning to fall over the parched ground. The chilly desert night would soon follow.

  Under the cover of night, Miss Welker slipped past security patrols, rangers, and campsite workers as they moved about the site. Even those who saw her only nodded in acknowledgement; an academic hello. At times she walked with purpose, intent on her destination, and a ruse to other’s perception. Other times, she crouched and moved almost silently around tents and through busy pedestrian thoroughfares. Miss Welker was one of those operatives who could become almost invisible when need be. But, when her social wiles were required, she drew attention like the flame to a moth.

  At last, spotting Thomas Knight’s tent, Miss Welker smiled. She thought for sure he’d have set it up in the center of the activity. But, it seemed he was more modest than she’d given him credit for. Or he’s simply the absentminded professor, more interested in dead, ancient things. She made her final approach and reached for the tent flap, lifting it gingerly.

  A stack of crates in the corner caught her eye as she moved swiftly toward them to look for the one that had her mark on it. Three deep and to the left, she found it. Quickly unstacking the other crates and placing them on the floor, she took the crate with the drum and placed it on the nearest table. Opening it, she reached inside and removed the ultimate prize: Eknom’s Folly.

  With drum in hand, she stopped cold as a voice called out to her. Shit. It’s that Matthews guy! What’s he doing here? Ducking for cover, she melted into the shadows and listened. Just outside the canvas, she heard him call softly to her.

  “Come out, Birdie. I know you’re in there,” wheedled Matthews. “Hey, it’s okay. Really. I just want to talk to you.”

  Fingering the small Deringer handgun at her side, Miss Welker weighed the pros and cons of her next actions. Should she shoot him or seduce him? Her decision made, Miss Welker rose from her hiding place and, in a sultry voice, whispered, “Ah, there you are. I was hoping you’d follow me.”

  “You were?” he asked, the hope in his voice evident. She nodded slowly and moved closer. She’d stowed the drum nearby.

  Matthews smiled, following her lead. Two can play this game. “Okay, Birdie. Who do you really work for? It sure isn’t Thomas Knight.”

  Knowing she would soon be gone from Knight’s campsite, Miss Welker shrugged. “I work for Noah Ashbridge.”

  Matthews nodded slowly. “There’s no way you work for Noah Ashbridge,” he said softly. He looked her up and down. “You’re just not that kind of girl, though if you are….” He left his thought unfinished, hoping she’d fill in the blanks. “I think you just needed a little adventure in your life. But it seems adventure finds you. You, m’dear are a treasure hunter, aren’t you?” Miss Welker still said nothing, her face expressionless.

  Then, a slow smile, and her eyes slid up to meet his, “Listen, you caught me. But, I don’t want any trouble, so”—she reached for the lapel of his uniform—“let’s see if I can’t make things right with you. What do you say?”

  “I’m all ears.” He wanted her, but there was something about her that scared him, too. That was what made it so exciting, he reasoned. A slow smile spread across his face and Miss Welker reached for him. Caught off his guard expecting another play, she grabbed him and jabbed his head into the corner of the nearest crate, knocking him out cold.

  Without sparing another glance, she grabbed the drum and shimmied out of the tent.

  Unfortunately, a young ranger passing by recognized her, raised his radio to his lips instantly, and raised the alarm.

  She was thankful she’d taken a few days to explore when they’d put her up in a tent. Now she knew the alleyways and escape routes better than anyone else.

  She risked a look back, fleetingly offering kudos to the guards that chased her. She silently wished them good luck in a capture she knew would not happen.

  Against the rising tides of “stop her!” Miss Welker flew through the encampment.

  Forty

  Shots peppered the air, over the shouting of the rangers. Miss Welker was confident, but she wasn’t stupid. She hugged the drum tighter to her chest, straining to protect it. But, the onslaught of bullets whizzing by so close she could hear them, or make their mark if she slowed down, wasn’t making things easy.

  Miss Welker was, once again, glad she’d had an opportunity to case the campsite while she was there. She ducked behind one of the larger tents—med or comms, she couldn’t recall which—and ran toward the perimeter. Someone must have made contact with the gatekeepers as suddenly the shouts and gunfire from behind was in front of her. Same dance, different partner.

  With catlike maneuvers she evaded them. Dodging into an empty tent to catch her breath, she almost smiled as she heard the rangers rush past. But, there wasn’t time. “She’s in there!” she heard a woman shout. Of course it’s a woman, she thought to herself angrily. Peering out the tent flap, she watched as the ranger sprinted toward her, gun aimed.

  Quickly, she reached into her pack and retrieved a Swiss army knife. Artfully slicing the back of the tent, she stepped through, only to be confronted by Dr. Donald Cunningham. Through the tent, he saw the ranger with her gun raised, and shook his head, firmly staving off Miss Welker’s would-be capturer. The ranger had entered the tent and opened her mouth to speak when Dr. Cunningham gave her the “no”.

  Miss Welker disappeared into the night.

  The ranger looked furious. “Why did you tell me to stop? She got away!” she spat, caring not for Dr. Cunningham’s status.

  “I know,” Dr. Cunningham said. “I had my reasons. We couldn’t risk a stray bullet hitting the drum, and…” he stopped himself. “What did you say her name was?”

  “I didn’t. But, to answer your question, we just let Miss Welker go free.”

  “Wait. The Miss Welker?” Dr. Cunningham asked, turning in the dir
ection she had gone. He suddenly felt sick.

  Rounding a sharp corner, she found herself outside the campsite perimeter. She’d made it!

  With shots and shouts still ringing in her ears, she looked for an escape vehicle. There! She ran toward the hover vehicle that had brought Dr. Donald Cunningham to the site. The silly man left it unlocked. Guess his mind is on other things. Great! Miss Welker surmised, as she listened to the gunshots and rangers who hadn’t yet gotten the memo to stop the pursuit closing the distance between them.

  Without another thought, Miss Welker tossed the ancient drum into the backseat of the vehicle and slid into the front seat behind the wheel. Essentially a go-kart of sorts when parked, it did have a key. She was also sure it would go pretty fast when hovering.

  Its noisy turbine engines roared to life within seconds, and the vehicle lifted a few feet off the desert floor. Without hesitation, Miss Welker floored it. She shot off like a bullet into the darkness.

  The vehicle jumped when a lucky gunshot found its target, shattering the glass. She shrugged it away. I’ll have no air conditioning for a while. So what? It’s better than being shot.

  A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she thanked the gods she’d escaped. She tipped her head back and laughed loudly at the excitement of it all. She felt alive!

  Forty-One

  Thomas Knight and his team emerged from the caves on mythical creatures of burden. Large lizard-like creatures, like backhoes, or diggers come to life. At least, that’s what it seemed like to the people who’d stayed topside and worked at the campsite. Their eyes widened and their jaws dropped at the sight. Whispers flowed and imaginations flared, but the people kept to themselves.

  No shouts. No sudden movements. Activity flowed. Though heads turned and greetings were exchanged, Thomas and Pediah sensed an unsettling undercurrent. Neither could place their finger on the trouble they sensed, but it wasn’t a peaceful quiet. It was like the earth was waiting with baited breath for what it knew was coming.

  Pediah leaned toward Thomas and whispered, “Shouldn’t there be a lot more activity? Talking? Even a bit of fear from seeing these creatures, but it seems—”

  “It seems like they’re waiting for something to happen,” finished Thomas.

  Pediah nodded. “Do you think it’s these creatures? A bit of shock, maybe?”

  “That makes the most sense, but something in my gut, tells me that isn’t the case,” Thomas remarked. Then, raising a hand to shade his eyes, he squinted slightly at a figure dressed in white, shimmering in the sun, walking briskly toward them. If the man had any fear of the creatures, he didn’t show it.

  “Dr. Cunningham has arrived,” Thomas whispered to Pediah, who shouted a “Hallo!” in greeting.

  “Boy, are we glad to see you,” said Pediah.

  “I can already tell by the look on your face that something’s wrong,” observed Thomas. His gut began to twist into knots; their triumphal exit on the back of the otherworldly steeds already forgotten.

  “You’re right. We’ve got a very big problem,” began Donald Cunningham. “While you and your team were below, a woman broke into the camp and stole an artifact. Just one, mind you. And just last night.”

  “The item that was stolen,” interrupted Robbie, “was it a drum? Please tell me it wasn’t.”

  Dr. Donald Cunningham looked sharply at him, took a step forward, and exclaimed, “Robert Blake, how did you know that?”

  “Because I’m the one who put it there, old man,” Robbie retorted, angrily.

  “Damn! Damn! Damn!” Thomas Knight’s curses flew. He closed his eyes to try to control the bile that was rising within him. We had half the camp with us most of the time. What the hell happened here? Who could have—oh, shit. Racking his brain to try to make sense of everything, he came to the answer in an instant.

  “Thomas,” began Donald tremoulusly, a foreboding fear making the hairs stand up on his neck, “where is Abigail?” Thomas swallowed. Using Abby’s full name spoke volumes to how much Donald cared for her. He dreaded telling him the answer.

  Thomas put his hand on Donald’s shoulder and replied, “She stayed behind with Lt. Whipkey and the Woidnuk.” Dr. Donald Cunningham turned slowly to face Thomas Knight, fear and anger in his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, Donald. This is Abby. It was her decision.”

  “What do you mean it was her decision?”

  “With her language and teaching skills she was the logical choice; she can teach them what we know and she can learn their language. Not to mention, Mochni and his family have already become close to her. But, there is a greater price,” Thomas paused, hesitant to nail his coffin closed. “If we don’t return the drum to the Woidnuk, we’ll never see her again.”