King Solomon's Journey (The Dominguez Adventures)

by Sammy Sutton

  King Solomon’s

  Journey

  Revised Edition

  A Novel

  By Sammy Sutton

  Copyright © 2010 Sammy Sutton

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-10: 1456348175

  EAN-13: 9781456348175

  E-Book ISBN: 978-1-61789-916-4

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2010916964

  Disclaimer

  King Solomon’s Journey is a work of fiction. All events are products of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to real people or situations are purely coincidental.

  Dear Dad;

  This is for you. During your last days in this shared dimension King Solomon’s Journey became important to you. I promised during the revision the message would remain the same; I hope you approve as it comes from a place that you were and are so much a part of in my life. Thanks for all the years of love and strength you gave to me, my brothers, your grandchildren, and especially mom.

  Journey

  by Kathy Feigel

  It is finally finished, this journey we shared.

  With your love, I have gone further than I ever dared.

  You said I could do it, and now here it stands,

  My story of dimensions and faraway lands.

  You cast a light upon my dreams.

  That was all I needed, it would seem.

  It isn't fair you know.

  You're not here for the big show.

  But I can feel you there.

  On the edge of the web we share.

  What now when no more can I hold your hand?

  I will close my eyes and dream, see, there you stand!

  Life is a journey of smiles and sadness.

  Memories will always hold the gladness.

  When my journey ends, I have but one prayer.

  Wait for me Dad, I'll be there.

  Alphabet Rain in the Desert

  By Ben Miller

  In the forward flowing sands amongst the freedom chimes

  We stood in the wind sages burning

  No direction but to rise and no motion in the sound

  Clouds and letters descending in alphabet rains

  But still we are lost on the high and lonesome long time road

  That twists around that craggy and teeth filled mountain

  Following hints and clues left for us to dissolve in our bodies

  Only inherited for this brief spark of journey

  Must we return it when we’re done like a rented soul jacket

  Must we solve all your clues or is it enough to leave

  Anchors in our dreams and screams avalanches on those desert walls

  Slithering down endless roads of trying

  We bury our faces in the sands of our fathers

  After they’ve left us behind

  Traces of footsteps like food for the mourning

  Eyes beam for relics that are more than just lines

  Scrambling over their canyons and dune field impressions

  We are but ancient children suspended in liquid sharper than amber

  More porous than breathing books written in stone

  We are those books that you left us to read in the desert

  We are those sparks from the storming dry skies

  Even if you fade into hallways gathering darkness

  More substantial than mirage less solid than fact

  We will rewrite those books in the marks of our making

  In the alphabet that you counted and dreamed for us

  Give us the patience to climb up that mountain

  That fortress tower where nothing is lost

  And on those glimpses of the footsteps in the desert

  On the remnants of old worn holy shoes

  They might fit they might dance they might only be rocky rambling

  To make the climb we have no choice but to wear them

  And kick at the sparks that insist we follow

  Stepping on the teeth and the skulls and the jagged bony proofs

  As our fingers drag through legend coloured sand

  Rubbing it into our wounds that tell the story too

  And maybe that’s how we see the path

  Not in our glories but our failings

  That alphabet of dreams the only rain to stitch it together

  A mountain rope up from the desert floor

  Mouths open to catch the rain

  Which are the flowing sands of freedom

  And all the notes between the chimes

  Alphabet Rain in the Desert was inspired by the symbols, subtext, and characters in King Solomon's Journey.

  Chapter 1

  "Enlightenment is our birthright. We're wired for it.

  It's what the human brain was designed to experience."

  John Hagelin

  There are days when we awaken and know it is just another day. Then, there are the days we awaken with a feeling that something momentous is about to occur. With shivers of anticipation we await the ringing of a phone or the knock on a door.

  When his cell phone rang, Antonio's heart gave a jump, and the name on the small screen made him pump his fist in the air in jubilation! It was here, it was finally here! Hurrying to dress, he balanced on one foot then the other yanking on his boots.

  Antonio was anxious to hit the road with his new car. After all, he paid for it when he ordered it six months ago. A big win at the tournament, the car was his perfect reward and he had dreamed of owning one since the moment he first saw the photo of the prototype in a market journal he regularly reviewed.

  After what seemed forever, Antonio finally stood in the bright sunshine of Santa Fe, as the salesperson stood next to him with the car door open, focused on the necessary information. The OnStar set up complete; the salesperson was showing him a couple of the car's features when OnStar called for verification. Antonio gladly confirmed the information the caller recited.

  "That's strange, Dr. Dominguez; I've never known OnStar to call back like that before."

  "Is that right?" Antonio answered almost automatically; he was too busy inhaling that intoxicating 'New Car Aroma' at this point.

  "Yeah, well at the speed they change things; I can hardly keep up day to day. Go ahead Dr. Dominguez and put in your destination, where you will be headed when you leave the dealership, so you can make sure the navigational system is working correctly."

  Antonio did as instructed; since he already used the system on his SUV, he was familiar with the set-up.

  ***

  With the last paper signed, the car was truly his, and Antonio slid into the sleek black leather interior of his new CTS-V-Coupe. He put on his sunglasses, started the engine and placed both hands on the wheel. With a tight grip, he twisted his hands forward and back, and luxuriated in the feel of the high-quality leather beneath his fingertips.

  “Awesome.” He was going to be driving the New Mexico scenery in style, after all, “Motortrend” had called the CTS-V, “The Cad-thriller”, “The most desirable Caddy in decades.”

  As an anthropologist, a SUV had always been an essential. Yet, essential did not mean bare-bones minimum when it came to additional luxuries. That is why he had chosen the Cadillac Escalade.

  While he loved the Escalade he called Es Fuerte, this was his first sports car. In fact, he had not had a car, since he left Miami fifteen years ago. He waved to the salesrep.

  “See you, Dr. Dominguez,” the salesrep called out.

  As he pulled out onto the street and merged into traffic, he was unable to avoid thinking of his brother José's jealousy over his Black Raven beauty, deciding later that he would call
José to brag about Raven. He was smiling at the thought of his brothers’ envy.

  José could afford a ‘Black Raven Coupe’ of his choice. José was one of Miami’s leading attorneys. Unlike himself, still single at the upper part of his forties, due to circumstance, and choice, José was the ideal husband and father.

  José was little by little assuming Pop’s role in the judicial branch of the family, hell, he was Pop’s clone; often José was more Pop than Pop. Not actually knowing if that was still true he had not seen or spoken to Pop, the infamous Judge, in fifteen years.

  Eight kids, but he was the one who was always disappointing Pop, with his “non-conformist” career, which at best would give him, according to his father, a mediocre standard of living. He was proving Pop wrong with his innovative analysis techniques and the work sent to him by leading museums and researchers from around the country.

  As an eminent expert in the field of Paleo-Hebrew language and studies, he always had plenty of work to do when he was not in the field working on his career with UNM. His ability to play private table, high-stakes poker when he was in the States, was also a real boost to his already lucrative career earnings. The poker play would drive Pop over the edge.

  His first plan was to put the Raven Black Beauty out on the open road to see what she could do. He headed out of Santa Fe down the Rio Grande, to Hidden Mountain where he hoped to organize an excavation someday. The idea remained in the back of his mind; a plan he would consider developing at a future time when he no longer felt the urge to spend so much time overseas.

  The mid-morning sun peaked out from behind the mountains. It was the perfect time to hit the open road in a brand new ride.

  His cell rang, and it was the Poker tournament organizer, Max, interrupting his thoughts.

  "Antonio, what's happening?" Max always bellowed with enthusiasm.

  “Not much, Max,” Antonio muttered, knowing Max never waited or listened for the answer.

  “Hey, I noticed you're going to have someone new to play against this week. I'm not sure how you two have missed one another. She has two years of playtime. I sent you video copies of her game via email.

  Antonio, she plays incognito but I have the info, if you know what I mean. You two have some common interests outside of poker. I am betting if you aren't an idiot you might hit it off with her.”

  “Is that right?” Antonio grunted.

  “No joke, Antonio, watch them today. Call me back,” Max, shouted.

  “Bye Max,” Antonio ended the call.

  Max was a terrific person but annoying, a real pain at times. Max was the one person that knew everything about the players. Many players, Antonio included, tried to keep a distinction between everyday life and poker life. Antonio had never heard a complaint about Max breaching a player’s confidence.

  At last, he approached the ramp to get on the interstate. He looked around, “Okay Raven, the road is ours. Can you fly?” he bellowed as he stomped the gas pedal.

  "Hell Yeah", Antonio yelled, as the sheer force threw him back in his seat, he felt alive, electrified. He accelerated into the opening curve as the ramp gave way to the interstate; Raven took it as if she were riding on rails.

  “Yeah, you can fly.” They had about 60 miles of open road to Albuquerque. Not giving a damn about a ticket, the thrill would be well worth the price..

  “Raven, do you feel the need to speed?” Antonio did not consider letting up until he hit the magic mark. At 100 mph, the other cars seemed to stand still when he went racing by in the fast lane.

  Antonio allowed Raven to continue her fast pace until he saw the sign for the Los Lunas exit loom up ahead. He slowed Raven down, and sat back and watched the scenery go by at a more pleasant pace. Once he neared the turn for Hidden Mountain, he let his eyes go to her peaks, and was, as always thrilled to be near her.

  With Raven parked near the railroad tracks, he removed his sunglasses and placed them in the customized console. Once he removed his field pack from the trunk, he made sure it held all he would need. Twice before, he had stumbled upon small crevices in the mountain that led down into small caves. Since the first time when he had been unable to explore due to a lack of preparation, he had always made sure he carried a small length of rope, a few Carabiners, TCU's, climbing harness and his crampons. The day was too perfect not to take some time to kick around up on the summit. He crossed the rancher’s land following the path; it was a short hike to the Decalogue stone.

  At the summit, there was evidence that suggested temporary ancient living structures were there for a significant period. Among that, evidence was the scattered clusters of manmade holes or dugouts.

  On the east side, not far from the carved bearded man holding an offering, there was a solitary glyph.

  At the Summit, he looked around at the holes in the Earth. Antonio remained skeptical about the use of the giant handmade craters many of his colleagues' coined ‘dugouts’. The most common theory claimed that the holes were military foxholes. He pondered, standing near one of the craters. Who in the Hell had been the enemy? Lobos? He took a few steps, turned, and evaluated the surrounding terrain. Without warning – the ground beneath him collapsed.

  Plunging into the dark cavern, a protruding ledge halted his fall. He reached for something to grasp. Unable to maintain a grip, he rolled past the edge, and fell into a second descent. Plummeting deeper into the ancient volcano, his head ricocheted off the jagged wall. His body slammed onto the bottom.

  He felt dizzy and a stream of light lurked down from the opening and began to blur his vision. Dazed and confused, he faded into a foggy abyss, as the atmosphere’s light appeared a pale, dingy hue.

  Antonio squinted at the stream of light above his head. Groaning he reached to touch his head, knowing he had been unconscious, but not sure how long.

  A flash as bright as lightning on a summer day forced him to throw his hands over his eyes. When he peeked through the small crack made by barely allowing his eyes to open, he was no longer alone. A man suddenly stood before him, wearing a priest’s robe. Trying to ask for help, his mouth moved, but words failed him. Apparently, what he was trying to say didn't matter; the old man was here to talk; not listen. Somehow, the ancient man communicated without speaking, and he needed Antonio’s help.

  The man faded slowly, dissolving into the fog. Antonio sensed a task of great importance - read the messages…believe…find her…find them. Intense fog made it difficult to focus; delirium began to set in as swirling clouds created a widening vortex.

  While attempting to steady his vision, a form came forth from the depths of the haze. His tightened eyelids opened slowly, with caution. The form before him took shape. He blinked again, in disbelief; a beautiful woman appeared before him. As she came closer, her form grew more vivid. Questions soared through his mind. Who was she? Where was he?

  Again, Antonio tried to speak, unable to make a sound. Silence surrounded him. She was splendid, stunning him with a beauty so remarkable; he had no one to compare her with. Her eyes glistened, sparkling with myriads of color, as if they could see within his very soul; from her he had no secrets. Long strands of deep, red hair cascaded past her shoulders, swirling in the mist with a life of their own.

  In the absence of words, her feelings unveiled within him without words. Overwhelmed by love, her essence surrounded, permeated him with inconceivable passion. Somehow, she was familiar, as if he knew her. Antonio knew he loved her.

  Synchronized, they reached for one another. He yearned to touch her, but couldn’t. A warm tear escaped his eye as she faded away. Watching her disappear, her name manifested in his brain, Amanda Messenger. His scream rang out in silence. He pleaded from the depths of his soul, wanting her to stay, or for him to go. Instantly, gone, she left him. Incomplete, he lay hollow without her.

  Disturbing his grief, an instantaneous vacuum-force tugged him, pulling his mind and body back into reality. His soul remained somewhere in the moments that had proceeded, st
aying with the unknown woman in a realm Antonio didn’t understand.

  The imaginary dissolved into reality. Upon emerging from the daze, his head pounded ferociously. He touched his forehead and noticed blood, realizing now that he lay at the bottom of the old volcano.

  Antonio reeled in pain as he struggled to find his pack. Locating it, he found a cloth inside and applied it with pressure to the gash on his skull. He hesitated to begin moving, and surmised his bones were still intact. The flashlight spotted his broken glasses, barely functional enough to help him find a way out of the cavern.

  His pocket flashlight scanned the surroundings. An object produced an outline less than a foot away. Reaching out, he touched it. The long sphere had the characteristics of a scroll, squinting in the murky light; he saw it wasn't a single scroll, but a bundle of scrolls in a soft bag.

  Instantly, he knew the ancient man contacted him through a vision, a premonition of his impending discovery.

  Wait, he was knocked-out cold. It had to be a dream. The entire experience must have been a vivid hallucination. Unsure, Antonio could not shake the loneliness that he now felt. The woman was a phantom, a ghost, but the Scrolls were corporeal, real, and possibly the discovery of a lifetime.

  Dim light further distorted his impaired vision. He needed to get out of the cavern, now. Carefully, he placed the precious bundle of Scrolls in his pack.

  His head was still bleeding, so he improvised using his belt to compress the bandage against the wound. Secured and ready to make his escape, he looked back into the dark with the light. He shook his head. Dumb ass - she isn’t there, she never was.

  In reality, his fall wasn’t nearly as far as he first imagined. He hoisted himself up to the height of the small ledge. Above him, a large overhang was close enough to reach. Gripping with his hands, he used his feet to climb as he swung his body up, and his legs around. Struggling to reach the top of the ledge, he threw his rope and found an anchor that could hold his weight.