Earth Before Man Read online

  “What could I possibly have done to warrant your suspicion?”

  “Perhaps not you personally so much as your associate, what was his name?”

  Quick to recognize a test of legitimacy, the Professor thankfully remembered the name and with confidence said,

  “Professor Kirk Waller.”

  Accepting the failure of his trick question, Buruk stood his ground and said,

  “I would not be doing a good job of justifying my meager wage if I did not double check paperwork. It seems that your so-called friend, Professor Kirk Waller greatly exaggerated his qualifications and permission to start an archeological dig in this area. According to my phone call, the university on his forged papers had never heard of him. Moreover, the biggest insult of all was that the Turkish Divine Antiquities Council had issued no such permit. By your admittance that he was your friend involves you in this forgery, a crime and punishment most severe. So if you don’t mind my saying so, yes, I have every right to demand that you come down from that hill and answer some questions.”

  Recognizing that there was nothing to rebuke or challenge, the Professor lost all of his objecting steam and slouched. He was glad to hear the Inspector add,

  “Naturally all your paperwork and qualifications have been cleared months ago so there was no need to investigate you.”

  The Inspector added,

  “And of course you and I have known each other for all that time and I hope a friendship has developed. Because of that, naturally there is no need to arrest you for the actions of another.”

  Although pleased to hear it, the Professor saw a greasy sneer on the Inspector that advertised, ‘be careful’. Professor Asker than bravely asked,

  “Thank you. If that is all, may I return to my meditation up on the hill?”

  “Of course you may, right after you show me what you wrote in your note pad.”

  Getting visibly flustered was a dead giveaway that he had done something wrong. Not wanting to show the Inspector his note pad, he tried his best to sound annoyed rather than scared.

  “You have no right to make that sort of a demand.”

  Suddenly there was another hard poke in his back and the Inspector said,

  “This is not a democracy. We have no laws that protect the guilty.”

  Holding out his hand, he repeated,

  “The notepad if you don’t mind.”

  Yielding to the demand, the Professor reached deep into his jacket vest pocket and reluctantly handed the note pad to the Inspector. Flipping through it, he was surprised to see all the pages were blank, except the first one. In the Professor’s handwriting were the words, ‘It sure is peaceful up on this hill.’

  Disappointed, the Inspector handed the book back to him. He was just about to apologize for the intrusion when Adem said,

  “That’s the wrong pocket Sir. He put the notepad in the other side pocket.”

  Two opposite expressions crossed paths, a look of victory from Buruk and a look of defeat from Professor Asker. As Asker started to reach into his other pocket, the Inspector slapped his hand away and retrieved it himself. Opening the notebook and seeing what was written produced the same look of confusion as the blank pages. He had written on only one page and it was filled with numbers, 07:06, 09:11, 10:4, 12:16 and so on.

  As Buruk looked up at the Professor, his harsh expression did not need to ask what the numbers meant. His stern eyes asked it all. Sheepishly reaching out for the book, he said,

  “I have been asked by a friend of mine that as long as I am out here would I look for Angora Rabbits and note their numbers. There is money in their furs. Those are just the times I have seen one running by.”

  Buruk looked to Adem who was now standing beside the one with the rifle. It was clear that he was asking for verification of the lame story. Adem frowned and shook his head. Buruk asked,

  “What is it Adem, why are you shaking your head?”

  Adem stepped forward and explained,

  “There are no more Angora Rabbits in this area. The villagers have hunted them to extinction, at least around here. Plus, those numbers in his book match mine. Adem brought forward his notepad and handed it to the Inspector. Upon examining the book, he saw the same numbers, 07:06, 09:11, 10:4, and 12:16.

  He asked Adem,

  “What does this mean?”

  “Sir, you asked us to be vigilant of things that seem out of place. I took it upon myself to be watchful of the lake, just as this man was doing. At exactly the times matching the Professor’s, I witnessed huge splashes of water gushing out of the middle of the lake.”

  The Inspector turned his attention back to the Professor. Again his stern look did not need to ask for an explanation. The Professor suddenly lost his fake stance of bravery and sounded as weak as a schoolboy caught lying to a teacher.

  “You must forgive me Inspector. I am a man of science. How would it look to my colleagues if I confessed to them I was looking for evidence of the legendary Black Spirits? If that story got out, I would surly loss my position at the university.”

  Inspector Buruk remained deadpanned. The only expression leaking out was his disbelief. A circling wrist was the indication to keep talking. Seeing the silent command, the Professor continued,

  “It is true. I believe the legends. I believe in what the children saw and what your soldiers told me. I am simply trying to get a time correlation of when they appear.”

  “So you think the black spirits might originate from the lake down there?”

  “Yes sir, it might appear that way.”

  Again looking to Adem, Buruk saw him shrug his shoulders in an ‘it’s possible’ manner.

  Released from captivity, the Professor returned to his hilltop where he sat and continued to stare out over the lake. No, he did not believe in black spirits living in the lake. That was not what he thought the splashing of calm water was all about. Although he was not sure, for he did not fully understand the power of the House of the Nazarene, he knew from his experience the other day that Kirk and his team were around here somewhere.

  As the Inspector watched the Professor walk up to his viewing point, he called one of his soldiers over. He said,

  “There is something wrong here. Did your men locate any of that vitrified rock he mentioned in his email?”

  “No sir. We pretty well scoured the whole field. I can assure you there is no such thing as a rock turned to glass around here.”

  That was what had raised the Inspector’s hackles in the first place. It was the reason he suspected the Professor had discovered something important and not reported it. If a rock turned to glass was so important and rare, why did he pick it up and just throw it away? He commanded,

  “All right. Forget watching the field and pay attention to the lake, specifically those splashes that he is so interested in.”

  Chapter 37

  Because Santo’s destination from Turkey was west, it was to his advantage to fly up to the stratosphere and from a low orbit, take advantage of the Earth rotational speed. That, and because of the D-wing’s speed, only an hour later he was descending over Brazil and minutes later flying low over the Amazon jungle. When only a few minutes from his destination, he sent approach codes to Liana’s Early Warning Detection System announcing a friendly approach.

  The village was just a few minutes through the jungle from her house and was friendly toward her and Quastima. Because of her knowledge of medicine and natural healing ability, natives from far and wide brought their sick and injured to her. Because of her and Quastima’s slightly different appearance, the village responded by protecting who they assumed were spirits of the Rainforest. It was for this reason that Santo did not bother to conceal the D-wing on approach.

  As it was just past noon, the hottest time in the jungle and unbearable to some, Liana was sitting under her favorite shade tree. The house was off to the side, a simple construction of logs and a corrugated metal roof. She saw Santo land in the clearing but knew h
e was coming and therefore did not bother to get up. Her reasoning was simple, let him suffer the heat and come to her.

  Santo was not always one for sunglasses but with this bright sun, there was cause for them. Before opening the canopy and suffering the heat, he donned his favorite dark Aviators. When the canopy slid back and he jumped out, the few natives hiding in the jungle saw a strange man with large black eyes walk toward their spirit healer. Because she did not seem afraid or alarmed at the approaching man, they saw no reason to jump out and protect her.

  Once in the shade of the tree, Santo removed his glasses, bent over, and kissed the receptive Liana on the cheek. The spying natives had never seen a man remove his eyes before. They were so filled with fear that they ran deep into the jungle. Although glad to see Santo, she was not shy about her disappointment, saying,

  “You should have brought Maria and Belle with you.”

  Santo joked,

  “I thought I was your favorite.”

  After a chuckle she responded,

  “You are, right behind my favorite two ladies.”

  “And I’m glad to see you too.”

  Liana knew this was not a social visit. While still chewing on a sugar root, she listened as Santo told her about the suspected plot of the Anannaki to alter human DNA. He needed to know if Quastima remembered how to operate what they referred to as the ‘babble box’. Liana understood the problem, pointed to the great dirt mound on the other side of the clearing and said,

  “He has been hiding in the pyramid lately, something about needing his own space for a while.”

  She then quizzically looked to Santo and asked,

  “Is that a human male thing? What does that mean, ‘his own space’?”

  Although wanting to get to Quastima as quickly as possible, he paused long enough to offer a human male’s perspective on a relationship. It was something he felt ill advised to offer.

  “I guess it means that maybe because you two are the last of the Sky People on Earth, you have spent too much time together and he feels crowded, just wanting to be alone sometimes.”

  Liana shook her head and confessed,

  “For all my years I never fully understood men of any species.”

  “Santo added,

  “Get used to it. We men also do not understand women.”

  Liana nodded and said,

  “And yet we crave each other’s company.”

  As she spit out the fibers of the sugar root she added,

  “Just more proof that God has a strange sense of humor I guess.”

  As Santo turned to go, leaving the shade and entering the heat of the sun, Liana, with a tinge of threat added,

  “If you tell him I have been chewing on the sugar root I’ll turn you into a toad.”

  Taking quick steps through the heat, he chuckled. The bane of Quastima, the reason the Vatican was able to keep him prisoner in a room with no bars was because of his obesity. For years the guards fed him what apparently all Sky People crave, sweets. When the House of the Nazarene rescued him from the Vatican, the scientists were able to get his weight down to the point where he could walk again. The command from them was firm, ‘no more sweets’.

  As he walked toward the great dirt mound, he knew two pyramids were hidden underneath it. However, only one was sitting flat on the ground with a great granite ball at its peak, the Cap Stone. The other was upside-down, the tip precariously balanced on top of the Cap Stone. Without the mound of dirt supporting the strange configuration and concealing it, the two pyramids would take on the appearance of a giant hourglass.

  Years ago when the Sky People of the Inca civilization had to flee the Conquistadors on the other side of the Andes, they came to hide in this jungle, at this very spot. The purpose of the two pyramids was to create an energy source through the granite Cap Stone squeezed between them. The pressure created an emergency beacon travelling across the dimensions to their home planet to come and rescue them. Little did they know, their planet no longer existed. Now, except for these two, the Sky People are no more.

  As Santo stepped into the entrance of the great dirt mound it was the first time he had been inside. Last year, when he and Maria had rescued Belle, Liana and Quastima from the Russian assassins everything happened out in the open. Now, the deeper he ventured into the narrow passage it was all new to him. Not surprisingly, the deeper he went, the darker it got. As it was the only passage, he pressed onward until seeing a dim light far ahead. This puzzled him. Not the light but rather how far into the passage it was. He knew the dirt mound was not that large. As he approached the entrance to a big room, he called out to Quastima. Santo heard the response,

  “I’m in here.”

  Stepping into the light and seeing where Quastima was sitting confused his equilibrium so much that to prevent losing his balance and falling over, he had to reach out and grab the wall. Holding tight to it, he closed his eyes and after a few deep breaths, hoping that once again all would be right with the world, opened them again. It did not help. He was still looking at a sight not even a magician could conjure up. It did help somewhat however that his brain was now prepared to accept the deceptive image, or at least not upset his sense of balance.

  Again looking into the seemingly empty room there was nothing on the floor, not even Quastima. All four walls were bare. Raising his eyes, he saw an upside down table attached to the ceiling, which alone was odd but plausible. What made it impossible was that Quastima was sitting at the table, upside down and looking at him. In a casual manner hinting that nothing was unusual, he said,

  “Well, are you just going to stand there or are you going to join me at the table?”

  It was clear by Santo’s stunned expression that he did not know what to do. There was no rope, no ladder, or any other obvious way of getting up there. Even if there was, he was not sure he wanted to climb up and join him. Not understanding why Santo was confused, Quastima pointed to the far wall and said.

  “It is not a wall. Just walk through it as if it were a door.”

  Santo, more of a rationalist, a trait that served him well in combat and tight situations, walked toward the blank wall but it was clear by hesitant steps that he did not really want to. Facing the solid wall, he put his hand out to touch it. Although his eyes saw something, his hand felt nothing. Looking back over his shoulder, he raised his eyes to Quastima who sat patiently up there waiting for Santo to join him. Blind faith was not one of Santo’s strong points but this was not enemy territory and so he took a faithful step and disappeared into the wall.

  It was a task for the senses to accept what he was now seeing. As if walking into a normal room, he saw that the table was now on the floor with Quastima sitting at it. Confused, more to test reality against illusions, he took a step back through the wall and into the room he had just left. When seeing Quastima again sitting at the ceiling he walked back into the more realistic situation, the room with a better sense of normalcy. Quastima said,

  “When you are finished playing games, come and sit.”

  It had never been a practice of the Sky People to greet each other with a handshake and so Santo offered none. Quastima pointed to the other chair and Santo sat. On the table was a bowl filled with sweet roots and he was chewing on one of them. Santo looked at the bowl and then with an accusing eye looked back up to the sinner. Quastima was not supposed to have sweets. Seeing the scold, he said to Santo,

  “Never mind. Just don’t tell that infernal woman out there.”

  Santo nodded. It somehow felt comforting knowing that relationships on Earth were not that different from other planets. It was just something he had never thought of. Trying to sound casual, he asked,

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  Still chewing heavily on his dietary sin, he barked,

  “That annoying woman makes me walk every day and watches every little thing I eat. I swear I was better off in the Vatican dungeon.”

  He then cast an eye to Santo and added, />
  “Why did you ever bother rescuing me?”

  Though Santo’s reply lacked experienced marital counseling, he nevertheless offered some advice to the poor man.

  “Perhaps she cares for you and wants you to stay healthy.”

  Santo wanted to get away from universal relationship problems and over to the operation of the ancient Great Gray computer. However, he was stalled by Quastima’s question of how he came by it. He related the story of the twelve Snow Monks and where they hid it. Quastima said,

  “Yes, after the Avignon disaster everything fell apart. We had lost the friendship of the Great Grays as well as the trust of the Vatican. It was a mistake of my ancestors that greatly changed the course of your history.”

  He then pointed to the table. Santo took the hint and placed the computer on the table.

  Turning it around, Quastima opened the lid and said,

  “I understand your predicament and the evil plot to convert you humans to the Anannaki creation. I have experience with the Great Grays and know how to talk to them. Best you let me negotiate your concerns and reason for the call.”