Bloodline (The Forgotten Origins Trilogy) (15 page)

Saturday morning I wake up to a loud woodpecker banging on a nearby tree.  Taking in my surroundings, I see a one room cabin in the faint morning light and remember where we are.  It was nearly two hours of walking through the dark mountains to get here last night.  It must have been closer to five or six miles away and Chris had carried Jake on his back for most of it.

Chris is sprawled on the wooden floor, sound asleep.  Baxter has decided he likes him, and is snuggled up close to keep warm.  Jacob and I are sharing the one small cot in the space,
with a thin blanket only big enough to cover our legs and half our bodies.  When we had come camping here with Dad, we always brought foam pads and sleeping bags.  Too bad none of that stuff was still here.

I never thought I would be able to sleep.  Actually, at first I had wanted to search for the clue and maybe set out again last night, but by the time we got here it was obvious that wouldn’t happen.  Even though we were all beyond exhausted and emotionally drained, I figured my mind would keep racing or nightmares would plague me.  I guess at some point though, the body just takes over, because I barely remember my head hitting the pillow and nothing else until now.

Having left our phones behind, I don’t know what time it is, but I’m guessing still pretty early.  Even so, I’m eager to get moving.  With every passing minute I’m afraid that more people are dying.  I keep seeing that pit and imagine thousands of them all over the world.  Shuddering, I pull the blanket up around my shoulders and close my eyes, trying to focus on the birds singing outside.

After a few minutes, my uncovered feet get too cold and I’m forced to acknowledge where I am and what is happening.  Sitting up all the way, I re-adjust the blanket so that Jake is almost totally covered and carefully slide off the cot from behind him.  Thankful that I had a sweatshirt with me yesterday, I pull the hood up to help hold in some body heat and slip into my shoes.  Maybe that will help keep my feet warm.

My stomach grumbles and so I find the backpack with the food in it and decide on a breakfast of granola bar and yogurt covered raisins.  After carefully counting how many bottles of water we have, I select one and only drink a third of it, since it will have to last me most of the day.  Once again, I’m glad that Chris is with us and had insisted on stopping for the food.  We would be in a lot of trouble if we didn’t at least have the water.  There is no water or electricity in this cabin and while there’s a stream not too far away, it’s never safe to drink it without boiling it first.

I pull the thin shade all the way up on the only window in the front of the cabin.  It lets in enough light so that I can clearly see the huge stone fireplace that takes up the whole far wall.  There’s nothing fancy about this place, but it’s obvious that whoever built it was a good craftsman and stone builder.  It’s probably local river rock that was hauled up here to build the hearth.

Moving closer to it, I start examining each rock, feeling along the crevasses that are filled with mortar.  It reaches all the way to the ceiling and is ten feet wide.  This might take awhile.

“What are you doing?”  I jump at the voice behind me and turn to find Chris propped up on one elbow watching me, petting a seemingly content Baxter.

“Do you remember what the note from my dad said about this cabin?” 

“I have a good memory,” he says, getting up.  “But not
that
good.  What did it say?”  Baxter watches him with wishful eyes and then jumps up on the cot with Jacob when he realizes he isn’t getting any more attention for now.

Going back to the bag, I take the letter out of the front pocket and hand it to him.  I go back to my task as he reads that part to me.  “’…Then you must go to the cabin and let its warmth guide you.’  Oh…I get it.  Those are a lot of rocks.”  He observes, looking up at the ceiling.  Getting a granola bar and water for himself, he joins me at the fireplace.

We search silently side-by-side for nearly an hour.  My anxiety is steadily rising as it gets later and a sweat breaks out on my forehead.  The stakes are way too high.  This is taking too long.  I’m thinking I should wake Jake and have him help us, when I go to put my hand on a small rock near the bottom back corner and pause.  Getting down on all fours, I look closer at it to make sure.  My heart quickens and I smile excitedly at Chris.  “A vulture!”  I exclaim, jumping up.  “I think I found it!”  Painted in black ink on the rock, low to the floor is a clear image of the hieroglyphic vulture.

Chris gets the flashlight and looks at it for himself, nodding in agreement.  Pushing at the rock, he finds it solid.  “I don’t get it.  Are we supposed to take it out or something, or does it mean that the fireplace is where we’re supposed to look?  Maybe it’s on the
inside.
  That
is
where it’s warmest.”

I take the flashlight from him and look again, contemplating what he’s said.  He could be right, but my instinct tells me otherwise.  I am learning lately to follow my instinct.  Running my fingers around the edge, I notice
that while there is mortar, it’s a lighter color than the rest.  Perhaps because it isn’t as old?

I look around the almost bare room, and settle on the fireplace set.  Grabbing the wicked looking poker, I use the pointed end to start chipping away at the cement around the rock.  It’s actually pretty soft and starts crumbling with just a few strikes from the metal. 

“Smart,” Chris says and I smile at his compliment.  Jacob wakes up from the noise but sits silently on the cot watching me, absently petting his dog.  His eyes look a bit glassy and red around the rims but I tell myself it’s because of everything he’s been through.  Nothing else.

In less than ten minutes I’ve scraped out enough that the rock is starting to wiggle and in another five, I hand the poker over to Chris and start working it with my hands.

When it finally comes free, I give a shout of triumph and look expectantly at the space behind it.  My hopes falling, I shine the flashlight into it, sure that there must be something there.  It’s empty.

“Look at the rock
, Alex.” Not realizing Jake had come to stand beside me; I nearly drop the rock on my foot and then laugh at myself.  Following his directions, I hold the freed rock up and sure enough, there is something written on the back of it in the same dark ink:  48*28’46.28N, 119*53’.46W

“They’re just numbers!”
Jacob complains, obviously disappointed. 

“
No. Not just numbers.  They’re GPS coordinates.  Chris, do you have something you can write these down on?”

Digging back through the backpacks, he finally finds a small notebook and a broken pencil.  I read the numbers off to him and then look once more at the rock to make sure there isn’t anything else on it.  Before setting it back in place, I scrape it across another rock until the ink is rubbed away. I sweep the mortar crumbs and dust into the cracks around the hearth so that it isn’t obvious, remembering my dad’s words that this information is sacred.

“That’s got to be the location of the pyramid,” I say, feeling a huge sense of relief as I stand and wipe the dust from my hands.  Chris, however, doesn’t seem to share my enthusiasm.  He has a frown on his face and is looking rather frustrated.

“Well it’s great and all, but unfortunately we have absolutely no way of locating thos
e coordinates on a map,” he states.  “Remember, we don’t have our phones.  We’ll have to go back to town and get one.”

“No.  I don’t think we will.”  He just stares at me, and rather than try to explain, I walk over to the only cabinet in the room.  Opening the bottom cupboard, I’m relieved to find the bag is still there.  Dad always left this at the cabin, so we would have some essential items no matter what.  Pulling out the medium sized, camouflaged duffle, I unzip it and start taking stuff out.

A decent first aid kit, emergency candle, stale energy bars, flint, a knife and finally at the bottom…an old GPS unit.  Holding it up so Chris can see it, I tell him why it was there.  “Dad always liked to locate his favorite hunting spots and fishing holes with this.  The mountains and woods around here are dense and steep so it would be easy to get lost.  It’s pretty ancient, but it works.”

“Well thank goodness your dad was prepared!”  His mood dramatically improved, Chris looks over the older device and tries the power button.  To our relief, it turns on.  Handing it back to me, I try to remember the right buttons to push and after a few minutes have it to where I can enter the new numbers.  After searching for a satellite, the image finally comes up and it takes us awhile to make sense of the map.

“Oh man,” Chris groans after the reality of our situation sinks in.  “That’s got to be around 15 miles away from here in the middle of rugged terrain.  Without knowing how to get there, we could spend
weeks
looking for it!”  Running his hands through his thick hair, he paces the small room, unable to deal with the thought that we won’t be able to stop this in time to save millions of lives.

As I look again at the map on the black and white screen, hoping to get some sort of inspiration, it goes dark.  Pushing at the power button, it won’t turn back on.  “Great!  Now the batteries are dead.”  Rummaging through what’s left in the duffle bag, I check the front zippered pocket and thankfully find a pack of AA batteries.  Slipping the back cover off the GPS unit, I feel my spirits rise.

“I think Dad took that all into consideration,” I tell Chris as I pull out a small piece of folded up paper.  I eagerly open it and read it out loud:

“
Alexis, you are almost there!  Remember that incredible fishing hole we found the last time we came up here?  There was that well marked deer
trail
across the water that we were going to go explore the next chance we got.  Maybe you can do it for me.  Love to you, Jacob and your mother.”
 

I hand the note over to Chris, put in the new batteries and start playing
with the GPS again.  “Got it!” I exclaim after a bit of searching.  “Dad would save the locations, and the fishing hole was the last one on here.  It’s a mile away, and pretty easy to get to.  I think the deer trail is going to lead us where we need to go Chris.  I’m sure he’s marked it along the way.  He came up here for a few days by himself the month before their trip to Egypt.  This must have been why.  We should be able to find it!”

Both of us smiling now, we again have a purpose and a plan.  We get all of our stuff together, dividing it up between the two backpacks.  I’m happy to add the flint, knife and first aid kit.  Looking over at Jake who has gone back to the cot, my smile fades.  He doesn’t look well.  My stomach tightens with dread and I go over to him.

“Are you okay?  Would you like a granola bar or something?  You need to eat; we have a really big hike ahead of us.”

Shaking his head, he refuses the food but accepts the water I offer.  “My throat hurts Alex.  A lot.  And why did Dad write all those notes to
you
and none to me?”

My worst fears confirmed, I put an arm around him and try not to let him see how upset I am.  Chris is watching us closely, back to snuggling with Baxter.  I notice that he’s feeding the dog part of his granola bar, as I try to carefully choose my words.

“He only wrote me two other letters Jake, and they were more like riddles.  I think it was only because I’m the oldest, and he thought I would have the best chance of figuring this stuff out.  You know what, though?  If it hadn’t been for you, I would probably still be trying to find the
last
hiding place!”

He consider
s this carefully, and then smiles slightly.  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.  I wish he were here though, he would know how to make Mom better.”

“Well, we’re lucky he was so smart, because he’s told
us
how to find some special medicine that will make
everyone
better.  I know you understand how important that is Jake and that even though you don’t feel good, we have to leave.”

“I guess that wasn’t medicine Mom gave me last night,” he says, wiping at his runny nose.  “Do you think this other medicine Dad hid will make
me
better too?”

My heart breaking, I can’t keep it together.  Pulling him to me, I hold him tight so he can’t see my face, silent tears falling on his head.  A warm hand on my shoulder both consoles me and also reminds me that we don’t have time.  Not even for this.

Pulling away, I wipe roughly at my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt and stand up.  “Of course it’s going to make you better Jake!  So we better hurry and go find it.”  Seemingly satisfied with my answer, he jumps from the cot and ties on my over-sized shoes. 

As we step out into the daylight I look up through the trees and see that the sun is almost directly overhead.  Almost half the day is gone and I can feel the time rapidly slipping away.  With GPS in hand, I lead us out across a small meadow behind the cabin and towards the towering mountains of the Cascades.

The day is warming up fast and within a few minutes I have my sweatshirt off and tied around my waist.  The sky is clear and shining like a bright gem over us, contrasting with the dark thoughts that fill my head. 

We’re trying to set a fast pace, but between the terrain and Jacobs feet it’s taking longer than I would like.  Everything looks different from what I remember so it’s a good thing we have the GPS or I probably wouldn’t even be able to find the fishing spot.  Reaching the edge of the meadow, we scramble up a steep incline into the trees and then walk along the crest.  The plan is that once we’re even with the location on the map, we can then hopefully cut across to it.

Jacob and Baxter have wandered ahead a ways, so I take the opportunity to talk quietly with Chris about something that’s been bothering me.  “I don’t understand why they would choose a skull as a piece in all of this.  Isn’t that normally a symbol of death?  I swear that all the other secret societies and cults out there have some sort of pyramid shape, eye or skull in its literature.  It just seems…out of place.”

“Actually, the idea of a skull representing death is relatively new, historically speaking,” he explains, surprising me that he would even know something about it.  “In ancient times, it was a symbol of life or re-birth.  I suspected that it would need to be placed inside a pyramid as soon as I saw it, because of Native American Legend.”

“Seriously?” 

“Yup.  There are a whole bunch of various legends in different cultures about the skulls.  That is part of the mystery.  The one I am familiar with states that there are thirteen skulls that speak or sing. 
It says that there will be a time of great need and crisis for humanity. The crystal skulls will be brought together to reveal their knowledge.   This is vital to the survival of the human race.  Kinda hard to write all of that off as a coincidence, don’t you think?”

“I guess that when I did my
research on them, I missed that part,” I say, amazed at how so many things were connected. 

“According to a Cherokee Medicine Man, the skulls are supposed to be put in a pyramid and that when they are all arranged in a certain order; they will communicate with the corresponding planets.  That, along with all the other beliefs surrounding them, makes me think that there is a mix of part truths in each culture.  I think that when the pyramid was built up here, and the Khufu Bast was watching it, the Native American myths and stories grew around that.

“Communicate with the planets,” I repeat, lost in thought.  “How farfetched do you think that is now?  We already know this virus is alien since it came here on a meteor.  We have no idea how a civilization thousands of years ago could have had such advanced technology to create an anti-virus and these skulls.  There are all sorts of theories that Egyptians have alien origins or had alien visitors.  Man…this gives me the creeps.”

“I don’t know
Alex; at this point I’m willing to say that anything is possible.  One of the reasons all those other groups you’re talking about incorporate pyramids into their symbolism is due to all the mystery surrounding the Egyptians.  You know, it’s one of the first major cities discussed in the Bible and some great men of God came out from Egypt, including Moses.”

This makes me stop, and he looks back at me questioningly.  “I guess I didn’t know that,” I say, thinking about all the implications behind it.  I wish I had read my bible now or at least paid more attention in Sunday school. 

Not sure whether I’m glad to have started this conversation or not, I hurry to catch up with Jake, not wanting to let him out of my sight.  He is being very brave and not complaining, but I can tell he is getting worse.  He took his pajama top off and tied it around himself, like I did my sweatshirt, but he is holding one of the sleeves in his hand to use for his nose.  It’s a regular faucet, and he’s developing bags under his eyes.  I talked him into eating a candy bar, but that’s all he’s had since last night.  I’m afraid it’s all going to catch up with him soon and he won’t be able to go very far before having to be carried.

Ticking away, ticking away…I look up again at the sun, and am dismayed to see that it’s starting its march down the other side of the sky.  How can it already be past noon?  Holding the GPS out in front of me, I scrutinize it for a minute.  We have to be getting close.  A little blinking arrow indicates our approximate location and we are in fact coming up parallel with our destination.

“Jake!  Start going down the hill to your right,” I call out.

We all carefully make our way to the bottom and
two-hundred feet further west; we encounter a stream running south.  Finally, I recognize something.

“That little waterfall! 
I know where we are!”  Following the water downstream, I scoot past the waterfall flowing over moss-covered rocks and around a small bend.  Just as I hoped, this opens up to a small cove where the water backs up against large boulders before spilling past them.

A deep pool is created, and on the far side there is an area of trampled grass where deer obviously come on a daily basis
.  “There!  That’s the trail!” I say excitedly, looking for the best way across the water.

We all walk bac
k to the bend where it’s only ten feet wide and a foot or two deep.  Taking off our shoes and rolling up our pants, we wade across.  The water is from high up in the mountains and ice cold, so I’m thankful we don’t have to go for a real swim.

Baxter is overcome with excitement.  He loves the water and immediately begins running up and down the stream, snapping at imaginary fish and jumping around.  It takes us a few minutes to rein him in but eventually he figures out we are leaving and follow
s us.

Once we reach the spot where the grass is all trampled, he goes crazy again, this time running around with his nose to the ground barking loudly.  Apparently finding some fresh deer turds, he happily rolls in it like any good dog would do.

While running away from my poop covered dog, I stumble over a small boulder strategically placed in the middle of the trail about twenty feet back from the water.  Fighting off his apologetic kisses, I look a little closer at it and then smile, not minding the smell so much.

Painted again in black ink on the rock is the
vulture.  “Chris, Jacob!”  I call out, standing up and brushing myself off.  “Look, Dad is leaving us markers.  This is the way to go!”

Relieved to have confirmation that we are going the right way, I clear out the GPS and enter the new coordinates for what will hopefully lead us to the pyramid.  As it comes up, it’s clear that we are getting closer and are headed in the right general direction. 

“I think that we definitely should follow this deer trail, but watch carefully for anything that might indicate another path.”  I suggest, hoping Chris will agree with me.

“Makes sense,” he says, taking up the lead.  “I’ll bet he stays consistent.  We should keep an eye out for rocks that look out of place.”

Jacob follows him and I go last since there isn’t enough room for anything other than single file.  Looking back to make sure that Baxter is with us, for a moment I think I see movement from the other side of the fishing hole.  Freezing, I hold my breath and watch.  After a minute, I slowly breathe out and relax a little.  It must have been my imagination.  Turning, I jog to catch up, Baxter at my heels. 

As I reach Jacob, I realize what it was that seemed so off.  While I was staring across the water, there wasn’t any other sound.  No birds, no frogs…nothing.  Glancing behind me again, the back of my neck tingling, I get the intense feeling that we are being watched.