Circles of Stone

by Dan Arnold

  “So, after two weeks research, one spitting cobra and a potentially violent encounter with angry locals, what have we got? Tens of thousands of stone circles spread across the face of southeast Africa.

  We think they represent some type of village which the locals call kraals. We don’t know for sure who built them or why they were abandoned. Does that sum up what we have so far?”

  “Hey,” Phillipe called. “Is this anything important?” He was inside a distant kraal holding something up, something too small to identify at a distance.

  Jake and Adrienne walked along the ancient stone lined path to join him.

  Phillipe handed Jake the object he’d been waiving around.

  “It’s a pottery shard,” Jake said. “Where did you find it?”

  “If you dig around in the soil, there’re a bunch of them in the rubble inside this small circle here.”

  “Beaudreaux, for a helicopter pilot you make a pretty good archeologist.”

  “Really, is that piece of broken pottery important?”

  “It’s not just this piece. The fact there’s evidence of any pottery in a structure this old would be significant. There being multiple fragments in just this little structure is immensely interesting.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It suggests this structure was used either for storage or disposal of unwanted stoneware. Either way, it points to a level of civilization not typical of the other indigenous people who were here in this region at that time. There needs to be a full blown archeological dig at this site.”

  “But, you said the South African government doesn’t have the resources,” Adrienne said.

  “Correct, but this could change everything. Think about it. We have evidence of a network of villages. Each village had domesticated livestock and cultivation of crops with terraces and irrigation. Now we find pottery. These circles of stone aren’t just some old cattle pens. They represent a very real, ancient civilization that occupied a vast area of the continent. If the South African government won’t organize an archeological research team in conjunction with a major university, I will.

  Beaudreaux, my sharp eyed friend, fly us to Pretoria.”

  ***

  There was little conversation at the beginning of the flight to Pretoria. Everyone’s attention was focused on the circles of stone so common on the South African hilltops they flew over.

  The discovery of a complex society existing for thousands of years beginning in the Stone Age, and continuing beyond the Bronze Age, was thought provoking.

  Jake’s thoughts centered on the theory popular among so many other scientists. The conventional wisdom was that early man was just a smarter kind of ape, slowly evolving from other simians.

  He’d been taught that in a gradual process, over hundreds of thousands of years, each generation of hominids became a little smarter and walked in a little more upright fashion. We began to use crude tools, basically sticks and stones. This was the Stone Age. Early man’s grunted and gestured communication skills, combined with facial expressions, eventually developed into spoken, then written language. Hunter/Gatherers learned agriculture and this was what gave birth to civilization. The Bronze Age began when stones were replaced by smelted metal forged into tools and weapons. It evolved into the Iron Age when machinery was developed and began to replace part of the labor force. Mass production prompted the Industrial Age. The Information Age brought us worldwide communication, space craft, computers and artificial intelligence that would take us beyond the stars.

  Jake had never been able to fully accept that theory. He saw modern humans as being neither more intelligent, nor more sophisticated then early man. What we call civilization was, to Jake, a thin veneer. Was it his experience in combat as an Army Ranger, his upbringing as a Christian, or his research as a scientist that brought him to this thinking? He decided it was all of those things in combination.

  Jake learned through personal experience that when you take the smartest, most sophisticated and cultured “modern human”, strip him naked and deposit him in a wilderness, that man with his wealth of knowledge and intelligence might well die of thirst, hunger or exposure. It wasn’t a matter of not being smart enough. It was his lack of basic skills. If his survival was threatened the same man would kill his neighbor with a rock, a stick or his bare hands. Civilization was merely a construct, not an evolutionary step up.

  Naked in the wilderness, even with all the accumulated knowledge of thousands of years, how long would it take that sophisticated man, using only his bare hands, to create a useful knife or a functional bow and the required arrows? From what would he make them? Sticks and stones. Even if he had the complete knowledge of metallurgy, to forge the metal and build a metal saw or a bicycle would take more time than he had left to live. Would a thousand such modern people in the same circumstance engineer and build a permanent city, or would they be too busy hunting, gathering and making war on each other?

  Jake knew that so called “modern” man was no smarter than “early” man. The difference being the time it took to make discoveries and turn ideas into finished constructs. Each generation expanded on the previous generation’s accomplishments. This was not because each generation was more intelligent, but because they could combine earlier discoveries with current ones. When an entire civilization was wiped off the face of the earth by a cataclysmic event, how long did it take to start over? The few survivors would have little to work with as they struggled to build a new life.

  All over the world there were remnants and ruins of ancient, even prehistoric, civilizations. Little was known about them. The theories about who built them, how they did it and why they disappeared ranged from unknown people, to ancient aliens creating human slaves, possibly even angels or gods manipulating the elements.

  That thought made Jake smile.

  His work had just begun.

  A loud ‘pop’ woke him from his reverie. Alarm claxons immediately began sounding as the helicopter lurched.

  “We’re going down,” Beaudroux One’s words were clipped. He tried to radio a ‘mayday’ call with their current location, but another ‘pop” crazed the windscreen.

  Jake looked at his friend, only to see his head fall forward and blood streaming from a bullet hole through the back of the pilot’s seat.

  Now, the chopper was spinning and rolling over.

  The impact with the hilltop brought searing pain followed by silence and darkness.

  ***

  The unmarked Bell 412 EP helicopter circled above the crash site, allowing the sniper to scan for survivors. Seeing none, he slid the door closed.

  As the attack chopper banked away disappearing to the east, one person alone crawled from the wreckage among the circles of stone.

  EPILOGUE

  After previously circling around the property, he was now satisfied only two men were posted as night sentries. Each man carried an automatic weapon. On this occasion, it made them enemy combatants.

  From their positions, one by the locked front gate and the other orbiting around the central dwelling, they would only see each other about every three minutes.

  That was all the advantage he needed.

  Dr. Jacob Walker flipped up his night-vision goggles. He wouldn’t need them for what he was about to do. The interior of the compound was well lit.

  He lowered his head, bringing his right eye down in alignment with the scope of his black M24 sniper rifle. Built on the Remington 700 platform and chambered in .308 Winchester, this was his preferred weapon for this type of operation. It was fine tuned to be accurate to less than a half minute of angle.

  He’d scoped the range to be six hundred and seventy two yards to the gate sentry and roughly another twenty to the place where the foot patrol sentry would appear around the corner of the house.

  A sound suppressor would absorb most of the sound generated by the ignition of the charge sending the one hundred and eighty grain bullet down range at two thousand and six
hundred feet per second.

  Jake steadied his breathing, taking the time to marry his body to the ground on which he lay and the rifle to his frame, until he and the rifle were one.

  “Rangers lead the way,” he whispered to himself.

  Seconds later, the thump of the rifle and familiar red mist around the head of the sentry indicated his rifle had fired and the subject was dead.

  Shifting a little, he brought the reticle to rest on the spot where the foot patrol sentry would appear.

  Forty five seconds passed before he too fell dead without ever hearing a shot.

  A few minutes later, Jake observed his quarry through a window. The man was talking on a mobile phone while watching a football match on the giant screen which served as both a wall and a television.

  A moment with the lock picks, allowed him to open the sliding glass door from the patio to the dining room.

  Although he’d been confident there was no alarm system, he was none the less relieved to discover he was right. After all, an alarm system this far from help would only serve to alert someone within the house or in the immediate area. It would take at least fifteen minutes for anyone to arrive by road from the nearest town.

  Jake eased inside and silently slid the glass door closed. As he did so, his heightened senses began screaming an alarm in his head only he could hear.

  Before he even identified the threat, he rolled to his left, bringing his 9 mm Browning High Power to bear on the figure now appearing in the doorway to the den.

  The two men fired almost simultaneously. Jake felt a tug on his left arm and heard the glass door shatter behind him as he fired his second shot.

  The man in the doorway fell forward, trying in vain to get off another shot. It caused him to land face down on the polished tile without being able to catch himself with both hands. The impact with the floor gave Jake just enough time to step forward and plant his foot on the man’s outstretched gun hand.

  “Hello, Tommy,” Jake said.

  “…You? I thought you were dead.”

  “No. You’ve gotten careless. You didn’t make sure of it. My friend the pilot is dead and my female friend may not live, but I’m very much alive. You, on the other hand, are dying. You’ll be dead within minutes. There’s nothing I can do for you.”

  Tommy Kirkpatrick closed his eyes and nodded.

  “Aye. You’ve done for me, sure and certain. How did you find me?”

  “The chopper wasn’t yours. I found the pilot. He sent me in the right direction.”

  “Did you kill him too?”

  Jake pulled the pistol away from the man’s hand and stepped back.

  “I tried to avoid it, but he died of lead poisoning—same as you. Tell me who hired you.”

  Tommy shook his head and coughed blood into the spreading crimson pool on the tile beneath him.

  “Don’t die protecting your employer from what he has coming. Tell me, Tommy. It costs you nothing and you can go to your grave having done one last decent thing.”

  “I can’t. There are rules. I never break the rules.”

  “You break the rules of man and God for a living. In about another minute you’ll be facing God to give an account of your life. Tell me who hired you.”

  For a moment, the man was so quiet and still, Jake thought he might’ve died.

  “Ask the Turk. He knows…”

  With those last words, Tommy Kirkpatrick ceased to be a professional assassin. He also ceased to be alive on this earth. He was no doubt, far, far away, kneeling before a Higher Authority.

  After holstering his Browning, Jake reached down and grabbed the dead man’s blood saturated shirt collar with both hands. He lifted the body so he could look into the assassin’s lifeless eyes.

  “Who is the Turk?” He cried.

  ******

  The end.

  Postscript

  Circles of Stone, is a work of fiction. Where the first modern humans actually emerged is not presently known to science. It is certain there was at least one cataclysmic event before the dawn of recorded history which could have annihilated cultures and societies existing at that time. The earliest known historical writings speak of a great flood.

  Was there a continent or island called Atlantis? Were there other prehistoric cultures and societies as yet undiscovered?

  The research is ongoing.

  The Sotho people (part of the Bantu language group) were known to build dry, stone walled, cylindrical kraals and huts with conical thatched roofs as early as 1100 AD. Many of the villages had more than a thousand people farming and raising livestock. These villages were spread across southern Africa, and many were interconnected by stone lined paths. The Sotho people made pottery and some of them mined for gold. This suggests a level of sophistication and culture beyond that of the other people dwelling in the region at that time.

  Where or how the Sotho people learned these techniques is another mystery waiting to be solved among the circles of stone.

  The adventures of Dr. Jacob Walker continue:

  An excerpt from:

  The Ark Approach

  By Dan Arnold

  © 2017

  David pushed aside the last of the rubble. They now had a passageway about four feet wide and five feet high over the debris field that had been blocking the tunnel. It wasn’t pretty and it didn’t look safe, but it would do to get the Ark back out after they recovered it from the hidden chamber.

  While David and the others grabbed their gear, Jake examined the tunnel on the far side of the blockage. He shone the light briefly on the map before putting it back in his pocket.

  The four men assembled to discuss their next steps. They hunched together as close as the space would allow.

  Jake pointed over his shoulder.

  “I’ll walk up the tunnel about ten meters ahead of the rest of you. I’ll have to go slowly to scout for booby traps. If I accidently trigger one it’ll only take me out. You should be safe enough.”

  Ruben didn’t like it.

  “We’re supposed to be keeping you safe so you can find and secure the Ark. Tell me what to look for and I’ll scout ahead.”

  Jake hesitated. He wasn’t sure what to look for himself, but at least he had the map showing the location of the traps marked by red dots. It was time to make a decision. Should he let them see the map, or try to remember where the dots were in relation to their present location?

  He wanted to trust these men, but the map revealed the resting place of the Ark of the Covenant. He wasn’t ready to divulge that information just yet.

  “According to Morty, the next booby trap is about thirty meters farther along. I don’t know what it is. You’ll have to look for something hard to see. It might be a tiny wire stretched across the tunnel. It could be at any height, depending on what it triggers. It might not even be a wire. Look for any change in the surface of the floor, the walls or the ceiling. That’s the best I can tell you. Like I say, I don’t know specifically what traps or triggers he used.”

  “This will really slow us down,” Ruben said.

  “Right, speed is our enemy at this point. It’s vital that we don’t hurry and blunder into a trap like those poor devils behind us did.”

  “Time is our enemy, Jake. We’ve got to find the thing and get it out of here as fast as we can.”

  “I know. I’ll be happy to lead the way, if you think it will help.”

  “No, I’ll do it. We’re trained to spot things that don’t belong. I’ve just never had to do it in a dark tunnel under ground before. Lorenzo, hand me another torch. With twice the light, I’ll have a better chance to see something.”

  Jake nodded. It was a smart move.

  Lorenzo produced another tactical LED flashlight and handed it to Ruben.

  Ruben set off walking slowly, scanning every inch of the tunnel from floor to ceiling.

  When he was about ten meters farther into the tunnel, Jake began to follow him at the same distance. Lorenzo and Davi
d were right behind him. When Ruben was about twenty meters along from the blockage Jake called out to have him go even more circumspectly.

  A short time later, Ruben stopped. Both of his flashlights were pointed at the floor of the tunnel.

  “Jake, come up here. I may have something.”

  Jake walked up behind him.

  “What do you see?”

  “…Nothing, specific. There’s just something about the surface that seems different. I don’t know what to do next.”

  “Here, let me squeeze past you.”

  Ruben shrugged out of his backpack so he could flatten against the wall of the tunnel.

  Jake slid along the opposite wall, and then bent to have a closer look. After a moment he dropped to all fours. Running his hand over the floor he stopped.

  “Ruben, do you have a knife?”

  The immediate ‘snick’ of the blade opening answered his foolish question.

  Jake took the knife and probed with the blade. After a moment he lifted the edge of a piece of canvas from under the dirt. As he pulled the fabric aside the beams of Ruben’s lights revealed a pit in the center of the floor. It was only about three feet deep and three feet in width. The total length was about five feet.

  Ruben whistled between his teeth.

  Anyone who stepped on the hidden canvas would’ve dropped the short distance into the pit. It wasn’t the fall that would disable them. Falling onto the fourteen sharpened steel stakes sticking nearly a foot up from the bottom of the pit would prove crippling, if not fatal.

  Jake used the knife to be certain the ground remaining along each side of the tunnel was solid. Standing with his back against the wall he bent and dragged the heavy, dirt covered canvas toward him. Once the edges were exposed he dropped the whole thing into the pit.