by R. D. Brady
Kenny looked back over his shoulder, expecting to feel a bullet between his shoulder blades at any minute. Instead, he saw Gideon still in the hole, smiling at him. He was even nodding. Kenny didn’t understand the man’s reaction and he had no interest in figuring it out.
Kenny panted as he sprinted for the house. He didn’t hear the professor behind him. He hoped it stayed that way until he reached one of his guns. He had a shot if he could just get to his truck or the barn. He kept rifles in both of them. That hope kept pushing him forward as his legs turned to jelly, and his breathing to sharp, painful gasps.
His farmhouse came into view and the sound of Blue still barking urged him on.
Footfalls echoed through the empty space behind him and panic charged through him. He knew he should keep running, looking behind would only slow him down, but he couldn't help himself.
Only a hundred yards away, the professor sprinted towards him, his legs moving like train pistons. He didn’t even look winded. How had he caught up with him so fast?
Kenny dug down deep for a last reserve of energy, but his body wouldn’t comply. He was slowing. Dark spots were beginning to form around the edges of his vision, causing him to stumble and weave.
The professor had no such affliction. Kenny could feel his attention focused on him. The pounding of his feet maintained their steady cadence. He kept coming, like a missile locked on its target, covering the distance to him in seconds. As he caught up with him, he didn’t pull him to stop.
To Kenny’s astonishment, the professor started to run next to him. He glanced over at the man in terror. Gideon just smiled in response.
Then in a blur of motion, Gideon sprinted a few feet ahead. He came to came to a dead stop and whirled to face Kenny.
Kenny tried to dodge around him, but he was too exhausted and too slow. Gideon’s hand snaked out and easily grabbed him by the shoulder. He turned Kenny around and pulled him close.
Kenny struggled and managed to throw a feeble right hook at Gideon’s ribs.
Gideon smoothly blocked the punch and trapped both of Kenny’s arms with one of his own. He leaned down into Kenny’s terrified face and smiled, pressing the gun to his chest.
“Good for you, Mr. Coleman. Everyone should have such a sense of self-preservation. You’d be amazed at how few people actually do. And you've given a good effort, especially for a man of your age. You should be proud of yourself.”
Kenny wanted to rail at the man. He wanted to scream at him for doing this to him and plead with him to spare his life, if only for the sake of his daughter and grandchildren. But all he managed to rasp out was a single question.
“Why?”
Gideon's voice was almost a caress when he answered. His eyes looked strangely bright, as if covered in a sheen of tears. “It’s the only way for my misery to end. You have brought my search to its conclusion, Mr. Coleman. I will always appreciate that.” And with a beatific smile, he pulled the trigger three times.
Pain slashed through Kenny, and then, blessed numbness. He felt himself being lifted as the echoes of the gunshots retreated. He thought of his daughter and his heart already beating unsteadily, felt even heavier. I'm sorry, sweetheart.
Blue’s frantic barking changed to mournful howls as they approached the farmhouse. Run, Blue, run, Kenny shouted in his mind. But the only words that were heard weren't his.
“Don’t worry, Blue,” Gideon murmured. “I haven’t forgotten about you."
CHAPTER 1
Dewitt, NY
Professor Delaney McPhearson glanced at the clock over the kitchen cabinets. She was barely a quarter of the way through the tall stack of undergrad criminology papers in front of her.
“Crap, crap, crap,” she muttered. She needed to move if she was going to make her self-defense class.
“Crap, crap, crap,” Max, her roommate Kati's three-year-old son, said from his spot on the floor.
Wincing, Laney gave Kati an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Forgot he was there.”
Jotting down two more quick remarks, she whisked the papers off the table and placed them next to the larger stack of still-to-be graded ones on the kitchen island.
She knelt down to Max and ruffled his sun-kissed brown hair. “That's a bad word, Max. I shouldn't have said it.”
Max nodded at her. His bright blue eyes, which matched the Sesame Street t-shirt he wore, were solemn. “Crap bad.”
Laney restrained the urge to smile. “Yes, bad.”
She looked over his head at Kati, who was shaking her head good-naturedly. Kati and Max shared the same soft, brown hair, slim build, and button nose. The only difference was their eye color: Kati's were a deep brown. Kati’s hair, now in a short pixie cut, only accentuated the similarities between mother and son.
“You better move if you’re going to make your class,” Kati warned.
“I’m going. I’m going.” With a quick kiss to the top of Max's head, Laney jogged to the stairs.
Taking them two at a time, she ducked into her room, and rummaged through her dresser for her workout clothes.
Pulling off her pajamas, she struggled into the sports bra and yanked on a deep purple t-shirt. Pulling her long, wavy, red hair into a ponytail, she had just slid into the black pants when her cell phone rang.
I have no time for whoever this is, she thought, even as she reached over to her nightstand to check the caller ID. She smiled and flipped the phone open, cradling it to her ear. “Drew. Where the hell have you been?”
Drew Master’s familiar chuckle made Laney smile even wider. She pictured him sitting at his desk, his mop of curly brown hair falling over his deep blue eyes.
Her uncle had always hoped the two of them would turn their platonic friendship into a romantic one. At least, he had hoped it up until she explained that the main stumbling block was their identical taste in men.
“Sorry, Lanes. Work’s been insane.”
“See? You’re working too hard. You should have taken that position with my uncle.” Laney’s uncle, Father Patrick Delaney, was one of the Roman Catholic Church’s premier archaeologists. He’d gotten custody of Laney after her parents had died in a car crash when she was eight. As a result, she’d spent almost every summer at one dig site or another since childhood.
Since Laney met Drew freshman year of college, he’d spent every summer with them as well. Even when they went to different doctorate programs, they stayed close. When Drew finished his doctorate, her uncle had offered him a position with one of the Vatican’s dig sites. Drew turned him down. Instead he’d agreed to work with Dr. Arthur Priddle. Not a good call in Laney’s opinion, but also not her decision.
“You know I think the world of your uncle. But Arthur’s research is much more in line with my own. And, at the time, I thought it would come with fewer strings.”
“Not the case, huh?”
Drew snorted. “Hardly. He’s been running me ragged. I don’t think he understands that we’re colleagues and I’m not his grad student. And he’s been even more security conscious than usual. The man has taken paranoia to a whole new extreme.”
Laney caught her reflection in the mirror, her dark green eyes reflecting her concern. This wasn’t like Drew. He wasn’t a complainer. He’d spent one summer in Egypt covered in bug bites, in the sweltering heat, with an unknown rash that caused his feet to swell to the point that he’d had to hobble around in sandals two sizes too big. He’d barely mumbled a complaint.
Seeming to sense her worry, he added some bounce into his next words. “I mean, it’s intense, but good. Priddle really has a way of looking at things from a new angle and developing an innovative approach.”
Laney opened her closet, looking for her gym shoes, and grimaced. “Right. Innovative and without any social skills or conscience.”
At Drew’s silence, she sighed, realizing she wasn't helping. “Sorry. Ignore that. I just don’t like you being so far away. So tell me, how are you doing? Really doing? And no placating.”
>
Drew let out another laugh, this one less good-natured and more nervous. “Okay, maybe things are a little stressful right now. But you know Priddle, perfection is his goal.”
Although his tone was light, Laney heard a heavier emotion under the words. “Drew, is everything okay?”
He hesitated before answering. “I don’t know. He’s been even crazier than usual lately. We’ve got this new project we’re working on, and he won't let me talk about it with anyone. And I mean anyone.”
Leaning down to tie her sneakers, Laney tried to think of a way to give her thoughts an optimistic spin. “Well, he’s not exactly known for his openness. And besides, his research is so esoteric and off the map, it’s often dismissed before anyone really gives it a chance. Maybe he’s just trying to make sure word doesn't leak out before he can present his entire argument.” She paused. “Are you regretting your choice to go work with him?”
“No. I mean, I really think ancient civilizations hold the answers to who we are and where we’re going. There’s so much out there we can’t explain - who built the sphinx, why the older pyramids are more technologically advanced than the newer ones, the maps of Antarctica that pre-date our history. And those are only a few. There are thousands of examples of unexplainable history. Pre-historic civilizations are the only possible answer. And he’s the archaeologist doing the most innovative research. So, I don’t regret it. I just wish…”
“He was a normal human being?” Laney deadpanned.
Drew barked out a laugh. “Exactly.”
Laney didn’t disagree with Drew’s interest. Before she’d turned to criminology, she’d thought hard about archaeology, for many of the same reasons that Drew had mentioned. According to mainstream archeology, the dawn of civilization began around 3,000 BC. Yet, there were more and more archaeological sites and discoveries of great skill that were being uncovered that pre-dated that arbitrary timeline - the Piri Reis map, the research of Steen-McIntyre, Puma Punku.
None of which could be explained by the traditional timeline. So she knew why Drew was so passionate about the topic. She just really wished the academic who was top in the field wasn't also such an ass.
Laney grabbed her exercise bag off the bed before she headed down the stairs. “Well, at least I got you to laugh. And I hate to do this to you, but can I call you later? I’m heading to my self-defense class.”
“You still teaching that?”
“Yup. Every Saturday, me and Rocky have a group of anywhere between five and twenty women we take through the paces.” Rocky, a.k.a. Detective Rochelle Martinez, was a pint-sized powerhouse. Six months ago, she and Laney had started offering a free women’s self-defense class Saturday mornings.
“Maybe that’s what I need - some martial arts. I liked those classes you took me to in undergrad.”
Laney smiled. She’d been studying martial arts since she’d been a kid. And she always loved introducing people to the discipline. But Drew, while a gym enthusiast, was not exactly the most coordinated student she had ever taught. “Well, I think exercise is always good,” she said diplomatically, as she waved goodbye to Kati and headed outside.
Walking down the porch stairs, she crossed the lawn to her silver Pathfinder. “I really do need to go, though. Can I call you later?”
“Um, yeah. Actually, though, I have a favor to ask.”
“Anything.”
“Any chance you could read over a paper I’ve been working on?”
“I thought you weren’t allowed to share any of that work,” she teased as she threw her bag into the passenger seat.
“I’m not. But I thought maybe if I showed him something that we could send out, it would kind of pave the way for some of the bigger findings we're going to be revealing down the road. Before I give it to him, though, it has to be perfect. I want to make sure there are no glaring errors in the logic, or God forbid, a typo. But I really need you to keep this on the down low.”
Laney hopped into the driver’s seat and hit the speakerphone button on the cell. “Not a problem. I have some papers to grade tonight. I can look at it tomorrow, though, and get some comments back to you by around lunch. Will that work?”
She could practically feel Drew's relief pour through the phone. “That would be incredible.”
Putting the truck into reverse, she started to back out of the drive. “What's the paper on, anyway?”
Drew was silent.
Laney waited for a slow-moving Honda to pass and maneuvered out, onto the street. “Drew?”
The sigh was barely audible, but she caught it. “Promise me you’ll be open-minded?”
“Of course.”
“It’s on an ancient technologically-advanced society that existed prior to written history.”
Laney slammed on the brakes and stared at her phone, knowing exactly what Drew was trying to avoid saying. “Drew, are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”
“Yes. It’s about Atlantis.”
The Belial Stone is available on Amazon.com
Also by R.D. Brady - The Belial Series
(In Order)
The Belial Stone
The Belial Library
The Belial Ring
Recruit
The Belial Children
The Belial Origins
Coming Soon*
Hominid (August 2015)
The Belial Search (December 2015)
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sign up for R.D.'s newsletter.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
R.D. Brady is a criminologist who lives in upstate New York. When she’s not writing, she can be found studying Jeet Kune Do, reading, or trying to find more hours in the day.
For more information on R.D., her upcoming publications, or what she’s currently reading, check out her blog: http://desperateforagoodbook.com. There’s a sign-up on her website if you are interested in being notified about upcoming publications. Or send her an email ([email protected]). She’d love to hear from you.
