Irrefutable Proof: Mars Origin I Series Book II

by Abby L. Vandiver

  “Yes, I am,” I nodded. “And Simon, that’s Jack,” I said as Jack passed by me, out the door with Greg. “And this is my sister, Claire,” I pointed over toward the chairs, “and a family friend, Addie.”

  “Nice to meet you all,” Simon acknowledged them. “Hey, Justin, I gotta go. I’ll call you. When you leaving?”

  “Day after tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Well, think about what I said.” He reached over and kissed me on my cheek. “I’ll check back in with you before then.” Simon backed out the doorway, waving at everyone. I shut the door behind him.

  “Who is that?” Addie asked.

  “My secret lover,” I said coyly.

  Claire started laughing so hard she fell out the chair.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Thanks to Greg and Jack’s scouting expeditions out to the Jerusalem Forest, we found the tree without a hitch.

  It was dark when we headed toward the outskirts of city to the Jerusalem Forest. We took both the cars. Addie rode with me and Claire. Jack drove with Greg “shotgun”, as Greg put it. I think that he was beginning to enjoy our little mission.

  All of us dressed in dark-colored jeans and T-shirts, we ran, bent over, like cat burglars, speaking in hushed tones, to the tree that Greg and Jack had marked earlier. Greg taking his cue from our brother Michael on our last trip to Jerusalem had a black duffle bag with everything we needed. He passed out flashlights to Addie, Claire and me. He and Jack pulled out the collapsible shovels they’d bought. Addie and Claire stood over Greg and Jack holding flashlights, while they dug holes around the tree, looking for what Dr. Sabir had left. I leaned up against the trunk of the tree where it was supposedly buried, right over Jack.

  A light breeze welcomed us to the grassy field filled with cypress trees thousands of years old. They were large and cone-shaped, planted close together, providing good cover for us, although in the pitch black night we really didn’t need it. The tree we needed was close to a clearing, not too far from the road, and was surrounded by low, dense bushes and shrubbery.

  Standing there in nervous anticipation, watching my brother and Jack dig, I thought I heard a swoosh sound. It sounded like something was moving in the bushes out along the perimeter. I tried to focus my eyes on it, but it was too dark to see.

  It made me anxious because I couldn’t see if anyone was there, but with all the light we had around, I knew someone could see us. It would be just my luck that the police came, drawn by our beacons, and kicked us out. Greg had said, after he and Jack got back, that the place was more or less public, and that we shouldn’t have any problems. Still, we weren’t supposed to be digging, and we didn’t have a permit.

  Then I heard that swoosh sound again. I turned my flashlight toward where I heard the noise.

  “Justin, where are you flashing that light? Bring it back over here,” Greg said.

  “Shh. Be quiet,” I said. “You hear that?” It sounded as if someone was breathing, hiding in the shadows.

  “What’s wrong, Justin?” Greg, on his hands and knees, looked up at me. “What’s wrong,” he whispered louder, more urgently.

  “I heard something.”

  “Did anyone else hear it,” Jack asked. He got up on one knee.

  “No. I didn’t.” Addie looked at me. I looked at Claire, which made everyone else look at Claire, too.

  Claire looked at me. “If Justin heard it, it’s probably something.” She was always on my side.

  “Or nothing,” Greg said. “So, what you want me to do? Stop digging?”

  “Just be quiet for a minute,” I said.

  I heard a click. Everyone else must have heard it too, because we all turned and looked toward the direction of the noise. I heard the swooshing sound, again. Jack and Greg stood up. Greg walked over and stood next to Claire and Addie. Jack stayed over by me.

  A crackling boom ripped through the stillness of the pitch black night, and exploded with a flash of light. I let out a shriek. Birds frantically fluttered up and about, and then another boom! I saw Jack reel back and grab his shoulder. He stifled a grunt as he fell to one knee.

  “Jack!” I screamed. “Oh, my God! Are you okay?” I bent over him, I was shaking like a leaf on a tree.

  Addie turned her flashlight on us. “Jack!” she shouted, and ran to him.

  “Oh shit,” Greg said at the same time Addie had called out. “Everybody get down.”

  Greg dropped pulling Claire with him. “Give me your flashlight,” he said to Claire. “Come with me.” Holding onto Claire’s hand, he slithered on the ground making his way over to Jack. “You okay, man?” Greg said putting a beam of light on him.

  Jack shook his head, “I don’t know.” He pulled his hand away from his shoulder. “I think it just grazed my arm.”

  Greg pointed his flashlight over to where the noise came from.

  “Did someone just shoot at us?” Claire pushed herself up and peered into the dark from where the noise came.

  Me and Craig both turned our flashlights on Claire.

  “What?” she said. Even with Jack being shot, she needed help understanding what had happened.

  Addie looked at Jack, and then at Claire, and all of a sudden she just got up and started running. She ran toward the bushes where the gunshots seemed to come from.

  “What is she doing?” Greg looked at Jack as he got up and ran toward Addie.

  “C’mere, girl,” Greg said in a loud whisper as he caught her. He had ran up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “What is wrong with you?” He lifted her off the ground and started trotting back toward us.

  “Somebody just tried to kill my brother,” she said, kicking her feet.

  “Yeah, and what? You’re gonna catch ‘em? And do what? You’ll get yourself killed if you go over there. Man, you as bad as my sisters.” He made it back over to us, his body bent over, practically carrying Addie on his side.

  “Jack, man,” Greg said, dropping her on the ground by the tree. “What was she thinking?” Greg looked over at Addie, who was breathing hard, anger boiling over on her face. “What was she going to do? Outrun a bullet and tackle somebody who had a gun?”

  Jack just shook his head, and sat back on his butt.

  “I just want everybody to get down, stay down. And c’mon, let’s get on the other side of these trees,” Greg said. “Behind them. Justin, turn off your flashlight. Everyone, turn them off for a minute.” Greg turned his off, and gave Jack a hand as we moved around the trunk of the tree. “Just be quiet,” he said.

  “Are you okay, Jack?” Addie, not listening to the “be quiet” instructions, leaned down to look at Jack’s arm.

  “Yeah, Addie. I’m fine,” he said quickly, softly. “Get down,” he said pulling on her arm. “We should all stay low.”

  Claire crawled over by us, took my flashlight, and looked at Jack’s arm, then clicked the flashlight back off. “I’ma rip your shirt, Jack,” she whispered. “I need a piece of it for your arm.” She helped him pull it off over his head. Then she held the bottom of his shirt between her teeth and ripped it up the middle. She did it again about an inch over, securing a strip. “Let go,” she instructed him to move his hand from the wound. “Let me do this.”

  We all sat quietly for a few minutes while Claire tended to Jack.

  “Who could that have been?” Claire said, tightening her homemade tourniquet, breaking the silence. “Why would someone shoot at Jack?”

  “Or me,” I said. “I was standing right next to him.”

  “We better get out of here,” Jack said.

  My eyes got big and I went to Greg, turning my flashlight on him. “Greg,” I whispered, “We can’t go. We don’t have Dr. Sabir’s things.” Greg held his flashlight with the beam pointing up on my face. I knew he could see I was about to start crying. “We can’t leave without it.”

  “Jack, if you’re really okay, man . . .” Greg said slowly.

  Addie turned the third flashlight back on.

/>   “I am,” Jack said.

  “Well, take Addie and Claire, and the three of you take the SUV and head back to the hotel. Let Claire clean your arm up and make sure you don’t need any stitches. Justin and I are going to find that box.”

  “Greg, man, that’s not a good idea,” Jack said.

  “It’s really not,” Addie added, “Because I want to be here to help find it, too.”

  “No. I mean it’s not a good idea because whoever tried to shoot us might still be here.”

  “I’m staying with Justin.” Claire came over and linked her arm in mine.

  With all three flashlights back on, we were sitting (standing) ducks, having an argument on who stays and who leaves. Getting shot at, again, was a real possibility.

  But for some reason I didn’t care about that. I just knew that we had to get the box.

  “It may not be a good idea,” Greg said. “But it’ll be hell living with my sister until she has that thing. It’s been quiet. No more shots. No more rustling around. I think we’ll be okay.”

  “Greg, if you and Justin are going to stay, we’re all going to stay,” Jack said. “But we need to see what’s going on over there where those shots came from, first. This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to turn off the flashlights. Greg you go around that way.” Jack drew an arc with his good arm out around the left side and back in to the bushy area. “And, I’ll go around the other way. The three of you sit here, quietly. Unless you hear something, then I want you to start screaming and just keep screaming. Scream your heads off, if you see anything. You got me?” We all nodded. “Okay. Greg you ready?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, turn the flashlights off.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “I think it’s all the coffee she drinks,” Claire said, matter-of-factly, glancing up from tending to Jack’s wound. We all looked at Claire.

  “Coffee is a good antioxidant, though.” Claire looked at us and nodded.

  Me and Greg had our mouths opened. What was she talking about?

  “It is,” she said, frowning up her face as if she thought we didn’t agree.

  We had gotten back from our “treasure hunt,” returning triumphantly. My prized possession in hand. Claire was tending to Jack’s arm. And until that was taken care of, I wasn’t going to open up the box. But Claire, with her off the wall comments, was taking forever to fix him up.

  I was sitting in a corner of the room, cradling the dirty box in my arms, the bottom of it resting on my thighs. I kept repeating, “I can wait. I can wait,” in my head. I didn’t want to seem selfish. But it was hard.

  “What are you talking about, Claire?” Greg asked.

  “Addie. That’s probably why she took off running after our would-be assassin. All that caffeine.”

  Greg said, “Don’t you have to drink a lot of it for it to be an antioxidant?”

  “Duh,” Claire said. “You have to drink about six cups a day. Haven’t you seen how much she drinks?”

  “I hate when people talk about me in third person as if I’m not even here,” Addie said, coming out the kitchenette with a cup of her addiction.

  Claire pointed at Addie as if to say, “See.”

  “Well, it’s making her crazy,” I said.

  Greg looked at me, amusement in his eyes. “Well, ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black.”

  “No, you guys, that’s just Addie,” Jack said. “I remember once she was on the MARC coming back from DC and she called me. Told me someone had tried to attack her. Man, my heart was beating so fast. Thinking how could I get to her fast enough to help her? She was just crying, in the phone. I could hardly understand her. Then I thought ‘Wait, how is she calling me if someone is attacking her?’ So, I said, ‘Addie, where is he now?’ And she told me she didn’t know. She said she beat him up and he ran off.”

  Claire and Greg started laughing.

  Cute story, I thought, but it was making the wait thing drag out longer. I was counting off the seconds in my head.

  “How much longer?” I wanted to shout.

  “Oh, so you could’ve taken that gunman out, huh, Addie?” Greg asked, and winked at her.

  “When she cries it’s not because she’s upset,” Jack said. “It’s because she’s mad. So I’m telling you guys, you better watch out for my twin. Her and her little dog, they patrol the neighborhood like a cop on a beat. Like what could they do?”

  “My sister. Justin,” Greg said, looking over at me. “Cries over Coke commercials and the ASPCA commercials on TV. She cries about everything. Anything.”

  “I do not. And I don’t cry over those ASPCA commercials because when they come on, I change the channel.”

  “Jack is fine,” Dr. Claire announced, causing me to pop up from the chair.

  “But he may want to see a real doctor when he gets home,” Claire said, “One that actually sees patients. I wish everyone would keep in mind that I don’t practice. I do research.”

  I walked over and put the box atop the bar, and stood next to it, arms at my side.

  “I don’t need to see another doctor.” Jack smiled. “I’m fine. I just liked Claire fussing over me.”

  “Yeah, you’ll be sorry you had me looking at it instead of a practicing physician when it starts to puss and ooze out green stuff. Wait till gangrene sets in, you lose an arm, and the Air Force tosses you out on your butt.”

  I was tapping my heel against the floor at a rapid pace.

  “Okay, enough of that,” Greg said, looking over at me spazzing out. “Let’s see what’s in Dr. Sabir’s box.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Tuscany, Italy

  1962

  Alphonse Realini sat on the side of his bed in his country home in the sun-soaked hills of Tuscany where he had lived for the past twenty-five years. He had long since left the priesthood, and the Villa Mondragone in Frascati.

  He had given up so much to live a life as a brother in the Society of Jesus. The twelve years he had spent in formation for priesthood. The long years of study he needed to take his vows.

  His vows . . .

  That’s what was bothering him today.

  His First Vows, Simple vows of poverty, chastity and obedience.

  Obedience . . .

  He tried even now to keep them. He looked down and studied his hands - wrinkled, withered hands - nervously wringing them one over the other.

  Had he been obedient? Obedient in what he had done. Perhaps not to the Jesuits. But to what mattered.

  His eyes were sad, as the task set before him today reminded him of what he had done. But he wasn’t the first to lie about that book, and he wouldn’t be the last.

  Obedience wasn’t the only vow he had taken. As a Jesuit, he had taken a fourth vow - special obedience to the pope in matters regarding a mission.

  Yes, he knew. It wasn’t the Church’s mission.

  No. It had nothing to do with it. It wasn’t of the Church. And it had only been placed there because the Church had withstood the test of time. The book needed to be able to stay in one place. To be kept safe. Catholicism had been around for a long time, as had the Villa Mondragone. It had stood in Frascati since 1573.

  Although he respected both, the vow that was bothering him today was not his Jesuit vows, but the one that he’d taken long before he donned priestly robes. It was the one to keep the knowledge of man’s origins alive. To keep the knowledge until it was time for the secret to be revealed.

  No one knew when that time would be. But he was sure there would be a sign. Something. Not from the heavens, this was not of his God. It had happened because they had gone against God. But a reckoning. When everything would come together. The stars, perhaps, would align . . .

  He took a deep sigh. Resting his elbow on the surface of the night table next to him, he clasped his hands together and put them under his chin. A tear ran down his crinkled face.

  “Father, forgive thy servant,” he said. Taking another breat
h, he stood up and held onto the table.

  It took a moment to steady himself. Nearly ninety, simple things, such as standing, or even having a restful night, were no longer easy.

  He walked over to the window where a blue and white-flowered ceramic pitcher and bowl sat atop a small stand. Pouring water over his hand, and letting the bowl fill, he set the pitcher down. He doused his hands in the coolness, then splashed water over his face and dried off with a towel he pulled from the shelf next to the stand.

  His days were short, he knew it. He also knew it was time. He needed to pass on what he knew. So that it wouldn’t be lost to the world. Until there came a time when someone would find what they needed to tell the history of the world. There were only a few left that knew the secret, but the proof had long been misplaced. Now it was a waiting game. They must wait until all the pieces were brought together, again. Because they all knew that no one would believe them without proof.

  At first it would have been impossible to tell, he thought. So many people had gone their own way once they got here to their new home. People in different places had started to believe in their own gods. Made up gods. They began to tell their own rendition of our past with those made up gods inserted. Their one language had evolved into many, and it had become impossible to speak to all collectively.

  He went through the history, turning it over in his mind as he dressed and made ready for the day.

  So it was written down. By those that knew. In a book, on parchment, in scrolls. Kept at the temple in Turkey, now long buried. After it left the temple, it was then hidden in the plains of Sumer. The scrolls protected by families from one generation to the next until their descendants built the Biblotheca Alexandrina – the Library at Alexandria. There, the proof was kept safe. There at a place that promoted rationality, tolerance and understanding. It was a place where universal knowledge was organized and disseminated, the perfect place for the words of our ancestors, he thought.

  Looking in the mirror and combing over the strands of what hair he had left, he remembered the story of the library. He knew that the hope then was that the Library would be the place the manuscripts could stay until someone came to search for the truth, and to learn the knowledge.