by David Cline
“You sure there are solid holds all the way up?” Wood asked. “The red light makes guess work of anything above 20 feet. I can only see shadows from here.” He stepped closer and craned his neck. The route looked like a 5.9 on the rock climbers scale. “We would be in a tight spot if we got near the top and hit a smooth face.”
Wilkins pulled the backpack straps tight over his chest. “From what I saw earlier, this is the best way up.” He looked down at his shoes. “Just wish we would have brought some climbing shoes. I cannot imagine these boots are going to help much. I might as well climb barefoot.”
Wood pulled a 20-foot piece of black tubular webbing out and tied a makeshift harness at one end. He threw the other end to Wilkins who did the same.
“It’s not the safest tactic, but I will feel safer knowing that there is at least some recourse if one of us falls,” Wood said. He walked to the base of the cliff and glanced over his shoulder. “You ready?” he asked.
Wilkins adjusted his headlamp and gave a thumbs up. The rock was cold on his bare hands. The surface was gritty and unforgiving. Wood reached up until he found a nice spot where his fingers felt firm and then used his legs to lift his body. He repeated the process until he noticed they were already half-way up. One of the biggest blunders new climbers made was thinking they must pull themselves up with their arm strength alone. That was why women were naturally better when first learning how to rock climb.
The bright red light reflected so closely off the rock, the glare caused his pupils to contract. He paused for a moment and took turns shaking out each arm. He looked up to plan the next few moves. Above him, the rock face slanted outward slightly in a gradual overhang.
“The next 10 feet are going to be tricky,” Wood said. He forced his breathing to slow and looked down. Only large boulders, barely visible below, indicated where the ground was. “It looks like there are two possible holds that are just out of reach. I am going to have to lunge for one of them.”
Below him, Wilkin’s breaths came fast and short. Wood knew he had a lot more bulk to hoist up. “Let me come up to where you are,” Wilkins said. “You won’t fall as far if something happens.” Wood tried to rest both arms as Wilkins joined him.
“Wish me luck,” Wood said. He crouched low and hurled himself upward. His hand entered the crack exactly where he had planned. The only problem was it was only about a fingernail deep. From below, they had all looked the same. For an awkward moment, he hung suspended. Then he cried out as he began to fall backward. He clawed out for anything to grasp but only found air. His mind went fuzzy as gravity kicked in. There was a loud snapping sound like the crack of a whip as the webbing around his waist pulled tight. It had reached its full-length and slammed him against the side of the cliff.
His left ankle flared in pain as he connected with the rock. He looked up and saw Wilkin’s massive form clinging to the cliff. The veins in his neck bulged like snakes. His teeth clenched in laser concentration. His thigh sized arms quivered as they sustained Wood’s weight.
Wood hurried and reattached himself to the cliff. The webbing slackened and from above, Wilkins let out a long sigh.
“Picked the wrong hold,” Wood said, between pants.
Wilkins straightened his arms, so his weight was on his skeleton and not his muscles. “I think we should have used my idea,” he said. “There might not even be guards up there anymore if they have accomplished what they came here for. You all right by the way? You hit the rockface pretty hard.”
Wood reached down with his free hand and felt his ankle. It was already beginning to swell. “Good news is I don’t think it’s broken,” he said. “I would say it’s your turn, but I don’t think I could catch you if you fell.”
“You up for round two?” Wilkins asked.
Wood looked down into the darkness. They were at least 40 feet up. “I think at this point,” he said, “going up is a safer bet than downclimbing.” He climbed back up to Wilkins and shined the red light above him. The other crack looked identical to the first. Climbing at night had unique challenges.
“You want to rest for a minute?” Wilkins asked. He reached down and readjusted the webbing that was tied around his waist and legs. “You almost cut me in half when the webbing snapped tight. It’s just a good thing I wrapped the leg straps low or I would only have one working testicle right now.”
“The longer we stay up here, the more tired my forearms are going to be. They are already burning.”
Wilkins shifted his position and grabbed hold of the rock with a death grip. He released a slow breath out of his nose and then nodded to Wood as he gritted his teeth and braced for another fall. “I vote we add climbing gear to the list of things we never travel without,” he said. “Two harnesses, a rope and some cams would go a long way right now.”
“Agreed,” Wood said. He took turns shaking out each arm and then crouched low, like a spring. With one last look at Wilkins, he leapt upward and felt his hand sink into the crack above. It was so perfect he started laughing while he hung there.
“Everything okay?” Wilkins called.
“When I first started climbing,” Wood said, “we used to call those kinds of holds, hallelujah holds. They are almost molded for your hand. You will see what I mean.” He climbed the rest of the way and pulled himself over the top. He crouched low and turned off the headlamp. The moon was still not up. He listened for a minute and only heard the breeze rustling through the desert shrubs. He braced himself against a rock just in case Wilkins slipped and then called down. He heard a grunt and thankfully the webbing remained slack. After a second, Wilkins’ head appeared. Wood grabbed an arm and helped pull him up and over the edge.
Despite the coolness of the night, Wilkins was soaked in perspiration. He laid on the ground and pulled a water bottle out of his backpack. “Definitely should have used my idea. What time was Hassan’s friend going to release the goat through the fence?”
“1 am,” Wood said. He opened the backpack and pressed a button on the satellite phone. The bright green display lit up. “It’s 12:50 right now. Should we wait?”
Wilkins scanned the area. “It’s impossible to tell what we are looking at from here. We need to get closer.”
Wood wrapped the webbing in a neat daisy chain and zipped the pack closed. “After you sir.”
They moved across the meadow like shadows. Every minute or so, they would pause and listen before moving on. Ahead of them, a dark shape rose from the ground. When they reached it, they both crouched to get their bearings.
“I think this is it,” Wilkins said. He pointed toward the large shape. “From the picture, Hassan showed us, I think we have reached the port side of the ark.”
Wood tried to make sense of the shape. It was about 15 feet tall and disappeared from view on either side. The top was jagged and uneven. Instead of one continuous formation, it looked broken, like it was made up of many volcanic rocks piled on each other. The surface was dark and rough, almost like granite or basalt.
“It looks more like a rock wall than an ancient vessel,” Wood said.
Wilkins stepped closer and slowly walked along the base. He paused and examined a small cross section. “It’s impossible to tell for sure in the dark but look right here.” He pointed and Wood drew alongside him. “See how this part juts out and curves back.” He ran his hand along the surface. “I think this is one of the rib timbers. Under all the stuff stuck to it, I think it’s petrified wood.”
Wood was tempted to turn on the red light but thought better of it. He squinted and saw a large beam about two feet wide. It arched just like on an old wooden ship. He looked on either side and saw another one a few feet away. The second one’s shape was not as distinct as the first but had a similar curve.
“This place doesn’t appear to have been disturbed at all,” Wood said. “I can’t see any signs of human activity.” He shut his eyes and tried to remember the details of the image they had been shown. “If I remember right, this
wall should go around the entire structure. Should we climb on top and see what we find?”
Wilkins shrugged. “I don’t know what I expected, but I am kind of disappointed. Wish I could see it in the daylight.” He looked around. “At this point, I think we have a better chance of running into a coyote than a Nazi.”
They walked along the wall until there was a gap large enough to climb through. The wind was stronger on top and whistled in Wood’s ears. Short grass grew along a gentle slope that peaked at the center. They followed the incline until they reached the top. In the starlight, Wood could make out the general shape of the ark site. It looked like an elongated coffin.
Wilkins gestured ahead. “That would have been the stern,” he whispered. He turned slowly. “And that would have been the bow. According to Hassan, all the decks have long since collapsed in on themselves.” His face was full of concentration, and then he smiled. “We could be standing on the remains of the ark that saved humanity.”
“I don’t know what Hassan was so nervous about. There is nothing here!”
In the distance behind them, a gunshot broke the still silence of the night. They spun around. It came from the direction of the village. The sounds of two more shots were carried to them with the wind. Wood strained his eyes, but his view was blocked by the mountain ridge. He thought he could hear distant voices.
“I think the goat has eaten its last meal,” Wilkins said. “A lamb to the slaughter.”
Wood looked around. “There has got to be something here. They would not waste the resources otherwise. Let’s climb back down and make a quick lap. If there are motion sensors, hopefully the guards are distracted for a couple more minutes.”
The adrenaline pumping through Wood acted like a painkiller. He had almost forgotten his ankle was swollen like a grapefruit. Wood limped toward the stern when Wilkins suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him to the ground.
Wilkins nodded toward a series of wooden pillars nearby. Security cameras were mounted at the top. Another pillar had a satellite pointed toward the big dipper. Wood pushed himself upward and saw a set of double doors. They rose out of the ground at a slight angle like a cellar entrance. The handles had a heavy chain weaved between them secured by a silver padlock.
“What do you want to bet that satellite is sending a live feed of those doors?” Wood asked. “Did you bring your lock pick kit?”
Wilkins rolled his eyes as though such a question was beneath him. “With a little luck, the guards are still taking care of the goat.” He pointed. “We can interrupt the satellite feed, cutting off the people who matter. By the time the guards get back to their post in Hassan’s visitor center, we will be inside. When they get the call that the satellite is down, they probably will not fix it until daylight.”
Wood smiled at his optimism. “You assume that there was no one left behind watching right now, but I like it. Rock paper scissors to see who picks the lock and who climbs the pole and rips down the satellite?”
“Best two out of three,” Wilkins said, when he lost.
Wilkins passed Wood the lock picking kit and ran to the base of the pole. He wrapped his arms and legs around it and began to shimmy his way up like a bear. After a minute, he reached high and used the metal dish to pull himself up even with it. With one quick motion, Wilkins reached out and grabbed the tip pointed toward the sky. With his enormous right arm, he ripped the entire satellite off its mount and threw it to the ground.
Wood immediately closed the distance to the padlock and began to work the two instruments. He concentrated on steading his hands as he positioned each pin inside the lock and then pulled hard on the shackle. It opened and he hurried and pulled the chain. The metal clanged loudly in the still night. He yanked the door open as Wilkins appeared next to him. For a moment, they knelt in silence as they stared down a 30-foot shaft.
Wilkins whistled. “After you.”
Wood grabbed the first wrung and lowered himself over the edge, quickly descending the ladder. Above him, Wilkins wrestled with the heavy door until it closed softly. Wood reached the bottom in pitch blackness. He shivered and turned on his headlamp. “I hate places that only have one way in and out.”
Wilkins dusted off his hands, then pulled a long sliver out of his forearm. A trickle of blood dropped onto the ground. He shook his head. “I knew you were going to pick paper. Why did I choose rock?”
A tunnel about five feet high led away from the bottom of the ladder in the direction of the ark. The walls were lined with some kind of cement and mesh wire. It reminded Wood of the passageways the cartels used to smuggle drugs under the border.
Wood’s heartbeat quickened as they made their way through. At the end, another ladder was bolted into the wall. Wood looked up and saw his light disappear into a large cavern.
I thought all of the decks collapsed in on each other,” Wilkins said. He craned his neck. “There is definitely some kind of space up there. If we are under the ark, it could be the hull of the ship.”
Woods voice cracked with excitement. “This is an archeology goldmine. Why would the Nazis have such a keen interest?”
“Let’s find out,” Wilkins said.
They climbed fast. As Wilkins neared the top, he paused and examined the material that had been carved out. “There is a layer of petrified wood a few feet thick right here. This is probably the bottom of the ark, or maybe the keel.”
When Wood reached it, his light reflected off an array of bright rusty colors. He thought back to what he had read. In Greek, the root word petro literally meant wood turned into stone. All the organic materials had been replaced with minerals maintaining the original shape of the structure. The petrification process only occurred underground where there was a lack of oxygen.
Above him, Wood heard Wilkins gasp and he hurried to join him. He pushed himself over the edge and let his light reflect off a brilliant display of colors. The wood that had at one time been used in the construction of the ark, had been replaced by bright minerals. The walls were smooth as glass. The vibrant reds and blues swirled around each other.
“Mother nature is quite the artist,” Wilkins finally said. His voice was almost reverent. “I don’t think I have ever seen anything so beautiful in my life. Look at the ceiling. It’s like the Sistine chapel in here.”
Wood remained silent as he completed a full circle.
“I’m surprised so many artifacts remain,” Wilkins said. “I would think over the years, people would have pillaged and taken everything.
“Not if it was hidden underground for millennium,” Wood said. For the first time, he noticed the ground littered with objects. Bright ribbon had been used to mark and catalogue various items like at an archeological dig. Wood walked over to a skeleton and tried to determine what it had once belonged to. The four legs and long neck made him guess a baby giraffe. A blue binder was placed nearby. Complex charts and data filled the pages.
“I think they were trying to carbon date everything,” Wood said.
“What year did they calculate?” Wilkins asked. He was a few feet away examining a tablet with some ancient depictions.
“2304 BC,” Wood said. He shut the binder and continued deeper into the cavern. “You ever hear about the Nazis almost fanatical craze for mythical artifacts?” Wood asked.
“Just what I’ve seen in pop culture.”
“Well, I remember reading that some historians consider their allocation of resources and time for such quests, a significant reason why they lost the war. Hitler was convinced the discovery of the Ark of the Covenant or the Holy Grail could give them some kind of ancient power.”
“So, he assumed those objects actually existed?” Wilkins asked.
“He would have had to,” Wood said. “Even back then, there were rumors and whispers of a Fourth Reich. A powerful civilization that would rise from the ashes and rubble of a defeated Germany. A metropolis for the true Aryan race.”
“They have no army or global influence,” Wil
kins said. “Granted, they are larger than we both thought in the beginning. But a Fourth Reich? It sounds like nothing more than a pipedream.”
Wood looked around the exquisite room. “So, does the Old Testament for a lot of people.”
There was a short pause and then Wilkins walked closer. “So why would they jump through the hoops to have exclusive access to Noah’s ark? Assuming of course this is Noah’s Ark. If I remember Genesis correctly, they did not carry gold or treasure. They would have cared more about drinking water and food for both them and the animals they allegedly transported. There is no mention of some ancient powerful artifact.”
Wood gestured for the tablet and examined it closely. The color had long since faded but the engraving was still visible in the rock. The shape of a figure releasing two birds was plainly indented. “I think they wanted proof that it actually happened.”
Wilkins looked at him with his eyebrows raised. “Why would they care?”
“Because if a world-wide flood happened once, it could happen again.” Wood replaced the tablet gently back on the floor. “Like you said, they have no military force to conquer the world. They would need something more powerful than any army that has ever existed.”
“Do you think that would be possible?” Wilkins asked.
Wood shrugged. “I honestly have no idea. It is time to talk to Danville though. This world conspiracy stuff is right up his alley. Let’s gather as much data as we can. We’ve been lucky so far, but I have a feeling it’s about to run out.”
They spread out and began to collect any papers and notebooks that had been left. He wondered if most artifacts had already been taken away. There was not much left besides some animal skeletons and petrified dung.
“You recognize this?” Wilkins called from across the cavern.
Wood looked up and saw him dangling a necklace. It was identical to the one Amara had taken from Ciudad del Este. “Well, at least there is no doubt we are dealing with the same organization,” Wood said.
