Templars Quest Trilogy: The Lost Ark (Books 1-3 The Templars Quest Chronicles)

by Thomas H. Ward

  “Yes sir, Mister,” said Rosie.

  “My name is Gunn, Jack Gunn. You can just call me Jack.”

  Billy said, “Yes sir, Mister Jack.”

  We headed out toward 3rd Street where we would part ways with the recon team. They would continue straight to the airport. We would turn south on 3rd St. and go to 22nd Ave. heading west to the extraction point at Interstate 275.

  Upon reaching 3rd Street, I wished my recon team good luck and we parted ways. As we were walking along, I noticed that Peter was limping and dropping behind. He couldn’t keep up so I asked him, “Peter, what’s wrong with your foot?”

  “I cut my big toe real bad on some glass and it hurts a lot.”

  “Let me see it.” We stopped behind some bushes next to an old building. Peter sat down and took off his worn out tattered shoe. He didn’t have any socks on his feet; none of them wore any socks. He held his dirty foot up and I shined my flashlight on it. It was a badly infected cut, swollen red, festering with yellow puss running out of it. It smelled like rotten meat. I washed it off with water and put some antibiotic cream on the wound. Peter winced in pain as I wrapped a bandage around it and helped him put his shoe back on.

  “Jump on my back I’ll carry you for a while to give your foot a rest. Billy, can you carry my backpack for me?”

  “You bet I can, Mr. Jack.” I took it off and handed the 30 pound pack to him. I kneeled down and Peter wrapped his arms around my neck then put his feet around my waist. I guessed that Peter was only about 35 pounds. A kid his age should be at least 60 pounds, but he was just skin and bones.

  “Peter, when we get back to Tocabaga we’ll have the Doctor look at that cut. Ok kids, let’s get going. We still have a long hike ahead of us.”

  I didn’t want to tell Peter but I thought gangrene had set in and he could lose his toe or maybe his foot. He could lose his life if it wasn’t treated soon.

  I could tell these kids were polite, kind children. They helped each other stay alive in the concrete jungle for a year and that’s not easy to do. I can only imagine what Rosie had to endure. It made me want to kill every dirtbag that ever touched her.

  We had no sooner stepped out from behind the bushes with Peter on my back, when standing in our way were four men with handguns. They were about fifty feet away from us and one of them yelled, “Hey! What y’all doing with my kids?”

  Billy whispered, “That’s them, they’re the ones that hurt my sister and beat me.”

  After putting Peter down I told the kids to get behind the bushes. I flipped my safety off putting the M4 on full automatic. I yelled back to them, “Oh, these are your kids. Sorry, I just wanted to have some fun, you know what I mean.”

  Another jerk asked me, “You’re dressed up like an Army guy. Who do you think you are … GI Joe?” They all laughed at the comment.

  I was out-numbered but not out-gunned. I looked at their handguns to determine the caliber. I couldn’t tell in the dark but they looked like small caliber guns. I figured my bulletproof vest would stop those rounds if I got shot.

  The same dork yelled, “Hey Rosie, you little whore, get out here where I can see you.” Of course Rosie didn’t come out from behind the bushes.

  The four men were starting to spread out, to create space between them, and were moving closer to me. As they were moving closer I thought, now is the time to take them out.

  The same asshole yelled to me, “Mister, hand over your gun! You’re no match for the four of us. We’ve killed a few guys like you before. Give us your gun and we’ll let you go.”

  “You mean this gun,” as I pointed it at them and pulled the trigger firing on full auto, creating a spray pattern of deadly bullets.

  I dropped down to one knee to reduce my target size and kept firing, taking careful aim at each man. I heard one or two of their guns fire and saw flashes but they missed me. Three scumbags fell to the ground but the fourth dork was running for cover across the street. I slowly took aim, putting my laser on him, and squeezed the trigger … BAM … my bullet hit his head, exploding it like a ripe watermelon.

  I knew he was dead so I got up and walked over to the three jerks laying on the ground. Two were dead but one was still alive and cried, “Please don’t kill me, Mister!” I kicked the gun away from his hand.

  The three kids stepped up next to me. Billy pointed at the man and said, “He’s the guy. He’s the one that hurt Rosie.”

  This jerk looked like a real piece of shit. He had long matted hair and a dirty beard that was gray in color. He was kind of scary looking with his long witch-like nose and beady eyes. His face was almost black from all the grime on it. I wanted to blow his head off and kill him on the spot. I told the dork, “I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to hurt you real bad then God is going to kill you for what you did to these kids.”

  He had at least two wounds in his upper torso. He was as good as dead so I thought I might as well help him suffer a little more. I fired four more rounds into his legs. With each shot his body jumped in the air and he screamed in pain. Then I pointed the M4 at his crotch, pressed the barrel on it, and fired one more round. That really made him jump and scream. That was the least I could do for a bully and child molester. They should all be shot on sight.

  We stood there a few minutes watching the life drain from his body until the worm finally died. The kids stared at the bodies, and didn’t say a word as I walked around picking up the handguns, tossing them down the sewer drain in the street. I commented, “They won’t be hurting any more kids. They’re going to hell.”

  Rosie started to cry and I put my arm around her. “It’s ok, Rosie. He’ll never hurt you or anyone again.”

  Wiping the tears away, she replied, “I hate to say it, but I’m glad he’s dead.”

  “Me too, Rosie.” I picked up Peter and we started walking.

  Billy told me, “I wanna be tough guy like you, Mister Jack.” I didn’t say a word, but deep down inside I felt good, real good, knowing four child molester dirtbags were dead. They would never hurt another kid. Rosie, Billy, and Peter were going to live with my family on Tocabaga, which made me feel great. I had done my job well.

  Just as this 3-D movie in my head ended, I faintly heard Baldwin and Maggie yelling at me. Finally, I freed my hand from Adam, and fell to the ground. Baldwin helped me up, just in time to see Adam pull the sword from the ground, point the blade at the sky, and kiss the ruby handle. The white glow suddenly stopped. He wiped off the blade, and slid it into the scabbard.

  Adam asked, “Are you ok, Grandpa?”

  “I … I think so. Are you alright?” I replied, still dazed by what just occurred.

  “Yes, I’m fine. We were just judged to see if we were worthy to receive the sword.”

  “Has this happened to you before?”

  “Yes, a couple of times.”

  “Baldwin, how long were we connected to the sword?”

  “Maybe ten or fifteen seconds, why?”

  “Because, it seemed like hours. My whole life flashed in front of my eyes.”

  Adam laughed and said, “That’s right, it was reading your life. Now I know why Grandpa De Molay chose you to be my guardian. He knew you would be worthy to handle the sword.”

  Maggie asked, “Adam, how does the sword do that? Is it controlled by God or an Angel?”

  “I don’t really know for sure. The sword doesn’t talk. I only know that God has spoken to me in my dreams.”

  Captain Baldwin said, “Glory to God.” All his men repeated it in unison and made the sign of the cross.

  Baldwin commented, “You see, Adam does own the Power of the Holy Sword. This is the second time the sword has helped him.”

  Adam replied, “I’m only the caretaker of the sword, not the owner. No one can own God’s treasure.” After saying that, he put the sword in the box, and placed it under the backseat of my truck. I, for one, was glad that he did.

  That’s the true story of what transpired.


  We were getting ready to leave the Nation in a few days. Tonight was our last story night. Black Horse sat next to me and advised, “Jack, you must visit our brothers, the Hopi Tribe. They are near the Four Corners area.”

  I asked, “How can the Hopi help us?”

  “The Hopi have lived there since the start of time. They would know if any Templars passed into their hunting grounds. They have a long history and keep stories alive by rock writing.”

  “Rock writing? You mean petroglyphs or hieroglyphs.”

  “I do not know what those are, but the Hopi write and draw on rocks. They may have something to show you. I was there years ago and know they will help you. Hopitun Shi-nu-mu means peaceful people. They are also called Pueblo People along with their brothers, the Navajo.”

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right. We should visit them.”

  Pointing at a man walking a horse who was coming our way, Black Horse said, “Here is the man I want you to meet.”

  A man, whom I had never seen before walked up to us leading a horse with a brown-haired mutt by his side. The horse was a fine looking Mustang with a Mexican silver-studded saddle on its back. Black Horse said, “Jack, I want you to meet White Feather. He just returned from a hunting trip. He knows the Hopi Nation very well and can be of help to you.”

  The man certainly didn’t look like a Comanche because his skin was darker and his facial features were different. His black hair was cut shoulder length and he had a black band of cloth wrapped around his head. For clothing he wore a plain green-colored long-sleeve shirt and blue jeans. He wore high-top brown leather boots. In his arms he cradled what appeared to be an old Henry lever-action rifle. I guessed him to be in his mid-forties.

  Usually, I can size someone up in a minute. Call it intuition or judgment but I can tell right away if someone is trustworthy. I stood up to shake his hand. “White Feather, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He was a little shorter than me and a lot thinner. I gazed into his tiny dark eyes, but couldn’t get a good read on him.

  His grip was weak, almost girly like, as we shook hands. When I squeezed his hand, a little more than normal, he didn’t return the squeeze and withdrew his hand. He was weak so I suspected that he couldn’t be trusted to cover your back, if needed.

  White Feather replied, “Hello, Jack Gunn. I heard you brought us many good things, including Black Horse’s son.”

  Black Horse said, “I told Jack he needs to visit the Hopi Nation and see the rock writing.”

  “Yes, if he is interested,” White Feather replied, while looking at me. “I hear you are seeking a lost treasure.”

  “Yeah, that’s right, we’re on an expedition to find the Templars treasure. Do you know anything about the Hopi rock writing?”

  “Yes, I know it. I am part Hopi and lived many years with the tribe on the three mesas.”

  “What can you tell me about it?”

  “It is very complicated to tell all about it since there are more rock writings than stars in the sky. The most important one is named Prophecy Rock.”

  Billy Black Horse, standing behind his father, blurted out, “Why don’t we go there with you, Jack.”

  Thinking for a minute, I said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We have no idea what we’ll run into. Furthermore, we don’t know when we’ll be coming back.”

  “Maybe my son has a good idea. Why not go with you? It is a chance to be with my son and see this treasure you seek,” Black Horse commented. “White Feather can show us the way.”

  “Let’s let White Feather continue his story,” I said.

  “Well, located near old Oraibi there is a Prophecy written into a large rock. No one knows how old it is.”

  I interrupted, “What is Oraibi?”

  “Oraibi is an old Hopi village located on the Third Mesa on the Hopi Reservation near the Kykotsmovi Village. It was founded before the year 1100 AD, according to the archeologists. We Hopi know it is older than that.”

  “What is the Third Mesa?” Billy asked.

  “We Hopi have 12 villages located on the reservation which is divided into three regions: First Mesa, Second Mesa, and Third Mesa. Our language, customs, and traditions are almost the same, but each village conducts its own ceremonies and is unique from others.”

  White Feather paused for a moment and patted his horse. “Please tell us more,” I said.

  “The First Mesa contains the villages of Walpi, Sichomovi, and Tewa. Walpi is the oldest and most historic and has been continuously inhabited for more than 1100 years. Walpi is 300 feet above the valley which provides for a good view of anyone coming. Walpi does not have running water or electricity. Residents must walk to Sichomovi to wash and get water.”

  I nodded and sat down. “Interesting, please continue.”

  “The Second Mesa includes the three villages of Shungopavi, Mishongovi, and Sipaulovi. Over a thousand years ago, Hopi clans began to arrive at this location. According to Hopi legend, Shungopavi is one of the first Hopi villages established on Second Mesa.

  “The Third Mesa contains the villages of Kykotsmovi, Old Oraibi, Hotevilla, and Bacavi. Forty-five miles to the west of here, near Tuba City, is the Hopi village of Moenkopi.”

  “How many Hopi are there?” I asked.

  “Currently, around 10,000 people live in the Hopi Nation. Hopi are a matrilineal society that is organized into clans. In the Hopi Nation clan relationships are more important than blood lines.”

  I asked, “Who discovered the Hopi Tribe?”

  White Feather gazed up into the sky and thought for a minute as if he was annoyed. “Well, the historians claim that Don Pedro de Tovar did. He was part of the Coronado expedition in 1540. They were searching for the Seven Cities of Gold, which of course did not exist.”

  “Yeah, I read about the Seven Cities of Gold,” Billy said. “So … there was no gold there?”

  “Of course they found gold, but there is no Seven Cities of Gold. Gold is everywhere and if you search long enough you can find it. We Hopi believe the Spanish were seeking the golden treasure.”

  I sat up in disbelief at what I had just heard. “What golden treasure?”

  “The golden treasure made by the Ancients.”

  Now I was really curious. What the hell was he talking about? “When you say the golden treasure, what do you mean and who are the Ancients?”

  By this time Chief Quanah had started telling his story and the crowd went silent. White Feather whispered, “I can explain more tomorrow. Please excuse me now. I must feed my animals and clean up. I have traveled a long way today.”

  I replied, “If it’s ok, let’s meet here at 10 am to finish this discussion.” White Feather nodded and bid us good night, as he slowly walked away.

  I asked, “Black Horse, can we trust him?”

  “How much can you trust any man? We trust, but use caution. That is the Comanche way. White Feather comes and goes like the wind. No one really knows him.”

  I couldn’t wait to tell Maggie, Adam, and Captain Baldwin about this new important clue. I returned to the Motel room and found all three in the room watching a movie called the ‘Terminator’ from years ago. Our dogs, Freda and Adolf, were laying on the floor and jumped up to greet me.

  I cracked open my bottle of JD, poured at shot, and went outside to have a smoke. The dogs, right behind me, took off when I opened the door to relieve themselves.

  It wasn’t long before Baldwin came outside and asked, “What’s up?”

  I took a sip of whiskey and then a deep drag, blowing out smoke rings. “Oh, not much. I only found the biggest clue yet where the treasure might be.”

  Adam came outside and asked, “Where is it?”

  “I don’t know yet, but we could find out tomorrow.”

  “You always say that. What’s gonna happen tomorrow?” Baldwin asked.

  “Tomorrow we have a meeting with a man named White Feather. He’s half Hopi Indian and knows something about a golden treasure made by the Ancients.
We’ll meet him at 10 am in the park to find out more information.”

  “That sounds promising. I’m ready to move on because we’re getting lazy sitting around here,” Baldwin replied, as he walked away. “See you guys in the morning.”

  I took another swig of booze and said, “Adam, hook up the Sat phone to the computer and do some research on the Hopi Indians for me. Use the ACWWW (Army Command World Wide Web).”

  “Yeah sure, Grandpa, but what do you wanna know?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “See if you can find anything about a treasure. Also, check out their petroglyphs or hieroglyphs. Just find out as much information as you can.”

  Maggie, who had followed Adam outside said, “I’ll help you, Adam.” She grabbed my bottle of JD and took a big swig.

  They went to work researching the Hopi. I had another drink and went to bed.

  THE PROPHECY

  MAY 21, 2026

  The rooster woke me up again at 4 am. I’m gonna kill that bird yet. I can’t wake up until I’ve had a cup of black mud and a smoke. I noticed on the table there were a lot of handwritten notes.

  Adam heard me moving around. “Morning, Grandpa. You gotta read my notes on the Hopi and the Grand Canyon.”

  “Ok, I will after I have a coffee and wake up.”

  I went to the motel office to see if the manager, Big Buffalo, had made any coffee. Sure enough he had some java already made. After greeting him, I grabbed three cups to bring back to the room.

  Arriving back at the room, Maggie was up and I handed her a coffee. “Jack, you won’t believe what we found out.”

  “Ok, you guys tell me, because I don’t wanna read all those notes. I can’t understand your scribble anyway.” I took a sip of the sage-laced black mud. Damn, it tasted good.

  Adam and I went outside while Maggie took a shower. “What did you find out?” I asked him.

  “The Hopi believe they came from the earth inside the Grand Canyon. They emerged from some cave and came above ground. Furthermore, there’s still a Hopi Clan living in the canyon.”

  “Did you find anything about a golden treasure?”