Quest For the
Tablet Bruce Savage
About Bruce Savage He is the author of thriller, science fiction and horror novels including the smash hit Casualties of War has been on track to being on the bestseller list in the US and Worldwide since its release. He writes full-time and loves hearing from his fans. "If you took the DNA from authors Stephen King, Tom Clancy, James Patterson, Arthur C. Clarke and H.G. Wells and spliced them together in a ultra-secret government lab controlled by a mad scientist from an alien world and then gave birth to a writer from that combination you would have the one of a kind writing style and unique stories of Bruce Savage. That is author Bruce Savage.� Bruce Savage – Quest for the Tablet
Books by Bruce Savage The Novels: GODS ASSASSIN NO MERCY FOR THE DEAD LEGEND OF THE DRAGON THE SKULL EUROPA'S CHILD RUSSIAN GAMES QUEST FOR THE TABLET ORIGIN SHORT SCARY STORIES PSYCHO CASUALTIES OF WAR
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Table of Contents ABOUT BRUCE SAVAGE BOOKS BY BRUCE SAVAGE TABLE OF CONTENTS DISCLAIMER COPYRIGHT QUOTE CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 12 WAIT! FROM THE AUTHOR
1 27 41 71 95 117 123 141 149 175 187 201 225 227
Disclaimer
Quest for the Tablet By Bruce Savage Copyright © 2015 Quest for the Tablet Paperback Edition This paperback is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This paperback may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite paperback retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems without the express permission in writing by the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. First Edition 1.0 Bruce Savage – Quest for the Tablet
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ISBN-10: 1517789095 ISBN-13: 978-1517789091 Bruce Savage – Quest for the Tablet
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Quote Reality is quite different then what we believe it to be. – Thich Nhat Han – a Buddhist monk.
Quest For the
Tablet Bruce Savage
Chapter 1 They say that Native Americans have a deep understanding of the nature of life. A deep respect for it. There are many myths and superstitions that go hand and hand with most Native American traditions and beliefs. The ability to see into the future or the past. The ability to walk around inside of dreams and understand animals. The beliefs of many different gods or spirits that are responsible for the creation of the universe and the creatures in it. Most of these myths are just that‌ myths, or so Jack Skywalker believed. He grew up on the reservation in Arizona. Listening to his father and grandfather talk
about tradition and Indian legends. Watching the ceremonies that they would perform in honor of their way of life. But never really believing any of it. Never letting their teachings take hold or sink in. His grandfather used to tell him that myths are legends and sometimes myths are the truth. It was a matter of whether or not you believe in the myth that makes it the truth. Not everything is black and white. His grandfather was the medicine man or doctor on the reservation where Jack lived and grew up. It depended on whom you spoke to and what was wrong with you. He was a very respected and honored member of the Apache nation. His grandfather had hoped when Jack was young that he would become a medicine man someday and carry on the tradition. He had hoped that Jack would take hold of his culture and embrace it as his father did when he was young. But that wasn’t what Jack wanted. Inside Jack there was a voice calling him. He knew that someday he would do something great with his life. As do the young. But he didn’t know what. Growing up on the reservation there was very little to do and a lot of trouble for a boy that’s restless to get into. And that’s how Jack spent most of his youth getting into trouble. The scar on his arm was his reminder
of that trouble and a wakeup call to get his act together. When Jack was sixteen he decided to play a prank on a couple of his friends. Tommy Lightfoot and Gordon Willow. The plan was brilliant or so he thought. To scare the day lights out of his friends and show them who the chief of pranks really He captured a rattlesnake and placed it in a burlap bag to bring along with him on an overnight camping trip he and his friends were going to have out in the desert. He told them that he was bringing it to perform a ritual and set it free. This they didn’t trust, because they knew Jack. They grew up with Jack. When his friends were asleep he was going to let the rattle snake loose near their sleeping bags and wake them up. But the prank back fired when Jack didn’t take into account that the rattlesnake hadn’t eaten in a while and didn’t appreciate being bounced around inside of that burlap bag. As soon as Jack opened the bag that snake struck at him and got a good hold on his arm. The snake bit deep into Jacks arm and he let out a scream so loud, that it woke his friends up. Tommy could see Jack flailing around on the ground with the snake and he rushed to Jack to help him. “For crying out loud Jack hold still!”
Tommy said trying to get Jack to stop rolling around on the ground and hold still long enough to get hold of the snake. Tommy in desperation finally grabbed the snake by the back of its head and yanked it off of Jack. With one quick jerk he threw the snake over by a cactus fifteen feet away. The snake quickly got it’s barring and took off into the desert night as fast as it could. “Gordon get my anti-venom kit in my back pack, hurry!” Gordon raced to Tommy’s backpack and fumbled through it in a frantic race to find the anti-venom kit at the bottom. He raced over to Tommy almost tripping into the campfire that was still burning from supper. “Here quick, give him the shot before the poison sets in!” “Jack stay still; this is going to hurt a little bit.” Tommy said trying to get Jack to settle down.” “No kidding! Like I’m not in enough pain as it is!” Jack said reeling from the pain of feeling his arm muscles tighten up. The venom was beginning to work its way through Jack’s nervous system and he could feel his heart racing. He was finding it difficult to breathe, because it felt like an anaconda had rapped itself around him and was squeezing his chest. “Gordon, hurry up and get back to the
reservation and get some help. We need to get Jack to the Hospital!” Gordon took off into the night and back to the reservation and returned with Jacks father, who was frantic and angry. If it weren’t for Tommy’s father reminding him to bring along the anti-venom kit, Jack would have died that night. But instead Jack got off with two weeks in the hospital and a scar on his arm. And grounded for six months by his father. Who wasn’t at all amused by what he did. And his father made sure during those six months he was grounded that he tamed whatever wild spirits were in Jack once and for all. And made him aware of the value of life. One of Jacks punishments he had to do was recite essays on his culture in the Apache language. His father made sure he recited them every day after supper and he knew how much that annoyed Jack. But his father didn’t really notice that by the end of the six months Jack had developed an interest in archeology and an interest in the past. An interest that he would pursue for the rest of his life. And take Jack on adventures that he would never dream of. Jacks father was a tribal lawyer and a historian on the Apache people. His father passed this interest in his people onto him when he was young. It was something that
Jacks father always took great comfort in. Learning and understanding where he came from and where his people were going. He became a lawyer to defend the rights of his people and insure that their way of life continued on for many generations. When Jack decided on a career to follow his father was shocked that he had chosen archeology as his choice. Knowing very well how little Jack was interested in his own culture. This made his father proud because he knew that maybe someday it would lead him back to his people and a respect for his culture. Even though Jack’s father knew he had his eye on leaving the reservation, and his people, he still had hope that Jack would learn someday the importance of knowing where he came from and to understand the value of knowing your culture’s history. When Jack left for college it was one of the hardest things his father had to face next to losing his wife to cancer when Jack was young. Seeing his son leave, just like he knew Jack would someday, hit him pretty hard. But with the pain of seeing him leave came hope of him returning. And the hope that Jack would mature and be a part of the culture that he was born into. Jack was going home for two weeks to visit. He had just graduated from UCLA with a
Doctorate in Archeology. He was looking forward to spending time with his grandfather and father after not seeing them for the past two years. The last time he was home he had made the mistake of insulting his grandfather by arguing his point about the difference between myth and scientific fact. Jack had let his education overstep his common sense of respecting his grandfather. Time had passed. And Jack felt that he had matured as a person, and that these two weeks might help him smooth out some of the wrinkles that he had caused growing up. His grandfather was 90 years old now. And Jack was a little afraid that he might not last another year. In his heart he wanted his grandfather to see that he was a man now and that he was headed down a good path in life. He had worked hard to achieve something in his life. And hoped to get his grandfather’s blessings, even though they might have shared very different points of views. His car sped along the canyon road near the White Mountains heading toward the Apache reservation. He had been driving all night hoping to get home no later than early morning. A strong wind started to stir and kick up dust. Jack didn’t really think anything about it until the wind picked up and the dust started to get thicker. He knew he should pull
off to the side of the road, or risk going off the road because of the poor visibility. Jack was used to dust storms growing up in this region and he knew what the best thing to do was. He slowed his car and began to pull to the side of the road, when out of nowhere a white horse galloped down the center of the road. Jack slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop just missing the horse. He quickly looked around to find the horse and where it might have gone. But he could see nothing but blowing dust. “O.K., maybe I’m seeing things.” Jack said to himself. He brought the car to the side of the road and took a deep breath, wondering if he might be a little too tired from driving all night from Los Angles. He glanced at his rear view mirror and jumped at what he saw in the back seat. In the back seat sat a Native American man dressed like an Apache with his face painted with white and black streaks. Startled Jack turned around and hollered at the man, “Who in the world are you? How did you get--? But when he turned around the Indian was gone. And there was nobody in the back seat. He sat there for a couple of minutes to try and calm down and make sense of what just happened. When he was finally calm he
realized that it must be because he was tired. That’s what it was, he was tired and seeing things he convinced himself. The best thing he could do is get home and get some rest. In the desert dust storms come and go in the blink of an eye and this dust storm dissipated as quickly as it started. Jack took a quick look around one more time looking for the horse or the Native American. But they were nowhere to be found. He shook his head and started his car and continued on his way home. It was only five miles to the reservation and Jack would be home soon. As Jack reached the reservation he could see the water tower that he and his friends used to play on. It brought back some good memories of his childhood. When the heat was too much to bear he would go for a swim inside the tower with his friends. But seeing the tower also brought back a bad memory, of the time he was trying to show off balancing himself on one of the railings of the tower and falling off. That earned him a broken arm and a fractured ankle. It was yet another item on the list of things that kept Jack in trouble when he was young. Jack drove through the reservation and observing how progress was taking its time getting to his people. But that was the way it was on the reservation. Change took a long
road to get to the reservation; it was just the way things were. And one of the reasons why Jack wanted to leave the reservation when he was younger. Pulling into the driveway at his father’s house he could see that his father still had the Jeep. His father bought it from a cousin when he was younger. It seemed like he had that Jeep forever. Like it was part of the family. His father used to joke with his mother that the Jeep would probably outlast Jack. Seeing how Jack kept getting into situations that almost cost him his life. He got out of his car and grabbed his pack and his suitcase and headed up the walkway to the stairs. Looking around he started to wonder where everyone was. There was no one working on their lawn or even walking around the neighborhood. It was unusual to see the neighborhood so quiet. Almost as if it was deserted. He stopped on the front porch and looked around again to see if he could detect any life in the neighborhood. But no one was around. This made him kind of wonder if something was going on or if something had happened. He turned the doorknob to the front door and gave the door a little push. “Father!” He called. But there was no answer. The house was silent. He opened the
door all the way and stepped inside and called again. “Hello! Anyone home?” He called out. But still no answer. Walking down the hallway that led to the living room, he looked around to see if there was anyone home and calling out. Still no one answered. No one was there. They must have gone somewhere or something must have happened he thought to himself, getting a little nervous and worried. “Where could father and grandfather be? They knew I was coming home today. I called them last night before I left.” Jack said to himself. He reached the living room and slid open the doors. “SURPRISE!” A loud group of voices called out from the living room. This startled Jack and he dropped his pack. He suddenly realized what was going on and a big smile came across his face. His father was the first to greet him with a strong handshake and a grizzly bear hug. “YA ‘ATAY my son!” “YA ‘ATAY father!” Jack replied in a joyous voice. “I have missed you.” His father said gently clutching his son’s head. “My son the archeologist. I am so proud of you. You have brought great honor and pride
to your people.” “Thank you father.” Jack said looking around at the people that were there. He recognized most of them right off. Friends from growing up like Gordon Willow and Tommy Lightfoot and people from the neighborhood. Some of the people he hadn’t seen in a while and somewhere friends of his father and grandfather. The only person that wasn’t there was his grandfather. This confused Jack. “Where’s grandfather?” Jack said looking at his father, hoping that his grandfather wasn’t still angry with him. “He had a patient to take care of and he said he would stop by later.” His father replied. Jack smiled at him relieved that his grandfather’s absence wasn’t because of their disagreement. The living room was filled with friends and people. It was a good turnout Jack thought to himself. It was good to be home. Out of the corner of Jacks eye he could see the big bay window that gave a view to the back yard. Jack’s face turned pale from what had just caught his eye. A white horse galloped by the window. He turned his head to look directly at the window, not believing what he thought he saw. But the horse was gone. Without speaking he walked over to the door that led to
the back yard and quickly jerked it open. His pace picked up crossing the patio and the back yard, hoping to find the horse that he knew he had just seen. But the horse was nowhere to be found, once again. He stood there for a moment wondering if he might be going insane. And then he turned around, only to find that he wasn’t at his father’s house anymore. The sky was dark and brilliantly lit with what seemed to be a billion stars and there was a full moon shining bright. In front of him was a campfire. Jack could feel the fire’s warmth and hear its crackle. And sitting at the campfire was the Apache with his face painted with black and white stripes that had been sitting in the back seat of his car earlier. He looked at the Indian man and asked him.” Who are you?” The man just sat there looking at Jack with a warm smile on his face. Not replying. He started to walk towards him and with his first step the Apache, the campfire and the night vanished. He was back at his father’s house standing in the back yard. Jack closed his eyes and opened them, only to see his father and many of his guests rushing out of the house towards him. “Jack! What’s wrong son? What’s the matter? Are you all right?” Jacks father said
concerned over his son’s strange behavior. “Nothing father. I’m fine. I’m fine.” Jack said clearing his throat in a feeble attempt to calm their concerns. “I just needed to get some air. I was feeling a little nauseous for a minute.” “You must be tired after that long drive from Los Angeles.” Jacks father said. “Maybe you should go lay down upstairs.” His father placed his hand on Jack’s shoulder and started to guide him back towards the house. Jack and his father walked back to the house and his guest started back into the living room. As Jack entered the house Gordon handed him a glass of punch and Jack thanked him and drank it quickly. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was, or the last time he had something to drink. His father proceeded to help him up the stairs and into his old bedroom where he gently collapsed onto the bed. He lay there for a moment while his father took off his boots and guided his legs onto the bed. “You get some rest Jack.” His father said in a gentle voice. “If you need anything I’ll be right down stairs.” Jack didn’t reply as he watched his father exit his room and quietly shut the door. Moments after he fell asleep.
The early morning came and went as did the afternoon and part of the evening before Jack woke up. Jack opened his eyes and yawned as he sat up. He looked around his old bedroom in amazement that it was still the same way he had left it when he went off to college. He reached down and grabbed his boots and put them on. Getting up he noticed something familiar and walked to the window where a carving of a horse was that he made when he was a kid. As he crossed the room the floor creaked, and that reminded him of the times he would try to sneak out at night when he was a teenager. And his father would catch him because of that creaky old board. The bear trap his father would call it. Whenever his father heard that creak at night, he knew it was Jack trying to sneak out and he would be waiting for him by the back door. “Looks like you got caught in the bear trap again.” He would say, and then turn Jack around and send him back up the stairs to his room. “Jack! Are you awake!” He could hear his father calling from downstairs. Jack walked to the door and hollered back. “I’ll be down in a minute!” The bear trap had alerted his father to him being awake one more time.
He took one more look around at his old room and the memories they held then went downstairs. “I thought you might be hungry seeing how you’ve been asleep all day.” His father said playfully as he handed Jack a plate of food. Jack looked at it and a smile came over his face. He could see his father made him his favorite dish. Venison, potatoes and corn with hot peppers. “You still remember.” Jack said looking at his father with a big smile that said how much he missed his favorite meal. “How could I forget; you would bug your mother every Saturday for her to make it for you. God rest her soul. She would have loved to see you now Jack.” His father said in a somber voice. “She would be proud of you and what you have become.” “I know father. I still miss her too.” Jack said as he pulled a chair out to sit at the table. He could sense the pain that his father was still feeling after all of this time. They sat looking at each other for a moment remembering the woman that helped keep their family together through hard times. The woman Jack called his mother and the woman his father called wife. Still after ten years the memory of how she suffered from cancer in the end haunted them.
It was also a memory Jack tried over the years not to remember. A strong knock at the door broke the silence and Jack started to get up to answer the door and see who it was. “No, sit son. I’ll see who it is.” Jacks father said convincing his son to keep eating. Jack sat at the table eating and trying to listen to his father talking at the door. He listened as he heard footsteps coming down the hallway towards him. “I see you still eat like a bear!” His grandfather said jokingly. Jacks eyes opened up wide as he turned around to see his grandfather standing there with a warm smile on his face. “YA ‘ATAY! GRANDFATHER!” Jack said loudly as he stood up and threw his arms around his grandfather. He had forgotten for a moment how old his grandfather was and squeezed him just a little too hard. “Easy Jack, you know I’m 90 years old now!” His grandfather said jokingly. “YA ‘ATAY JACK! Boy have I missed you. Your Father says you’re not feeling well. What’s wrong Jack?” His grandfather asked even though he knew Jack would be stubborn telling him what was bothering him. “It’s nothing grandfather. I was just tired from the drive from Los Angeles.” Jack said giving his father a cross look. He knew what
was coming. Another round of old versus new. His grandfather had a way of relating everything to some old Apache custom or belief. And Jack had a way of pointing out the modern way of things. “Hey, if I remember correctly your father is the lawyer, you’re the archeologist and I’m the medicine man. Now, what’s wrong?” His grandfather said giving Jack a look that he knew. Either cooperate and tell him what was wrong, or be ready for two more years of silence. And that was something Jack didn’t want. He had come home to end the silence between them. “Something unusual happened to me grandfather, it’s stupid. When I was driving through the White Mountains I almost hit a horse that was in the road. And I thought I saw a man dressed like and Apache sitting in the back seat of my car. Then, at the party I thought I saw the same horse and the Apache man again, sitting in front of a campfire.” Jack continued feeling embarrassed at the story he was telling. It seemed too unreal to him. But he knew what his grandfather’s response would be. “This is stupid grandfather; I was just tired that’s all.” Jack said in an embarrassing voice. “I got some rest and something to eat and I feel a lot better now.”
“I’ll decide whether you’re better or not Jack. That’s why I practice medicine and not welding.” His grandfather said in a stern voice. “What it sounds like Jack is you had a vision. A spirit has contacted you.” Jack rolled his eyes back because he knew that would be what he would say. “Grandfather, you of all people know I don’t believe in mystical stuff. As far as I’m concerned it’s all a bunch have hocus pocus nonsense. What happened was that I was tired and dehydrated and the heat got to me. It’s a long drive from Los Angeles to here.” Jack replied. “Whether you believe or not is not the point grandson. It’s a fact that it happened.” Grandfather replied. “It’s up to you to find out what the meaning is. I can help you find the meaning, but you have to put aside your skepticism and be open-minded. A spirit has contacted you for a reason and you should consider this a privilege. These visions will get stronger and stronger until you face them, and find out what their meaning is and what this spirit wants.” “I’m sorry grandfather, but I don’t believe in these spirits or visions. If this spirit wants to contact me, it can email me like everyone else.” Jack spurted out sarcastically. He knew
he had just crossed the line with his grandfather. “Suit yourself Jack, but remember I warned you. These visions will continue until you face them.” His grandfather got up and started to leave. "I have to get home, I just came over tonight to see you and tell you congratulations on graduating. You’ve done well grandson; too bad you haven’t learned respect for your culture with all those years at college.” “Grandfather, I didn’t mean any disrespect to you.” Jack said as his grandfather walked to the door. He knew that once again he stepped over the line and spoke without thinking. “Remember what I used to tell you Jack, myths are legends and some myths are the truth. It’s whether you believe in the myth or not that makes it the truth. Not everything is black and white.” Grandfather said as he walked out the door heading for his truck to go home. Jack looked over at his father with a look that begged him to stop his grandfather from leaving. “Father, talk to him. I didn’t mean any disrespect.” Jack said desperately to his father. “You know how he is Jack. He’s set in the old ways of doing things. That’s how he was raised and what he believes in. He’ll be back
tomorrow.� Jacks father said convincing him that everything would be all right. Jack sat back down and finished his meal that his father prepared for him. Then he and his father went into the den. Where they sat most of the night in front of the fireplace talking about the past and all the things that had been happening since he went away to college. It was good to be home again. Jack thought to himself. He had missed talking to his father. He looked at his father and could see that time was catching up to him, but he still maintained a certain amount of strength and gentleness that he carried with him. He was a champion to the Apache people for all the work he did to protect their rights and territory. In the courtroom his father was just as much a warrior as his ancestors were long ago. He was proud and strong and determined. A lot of these qualities Jack had hoped rubbed off on him. That’s what made him work so hard in college to graduate in the top ten of his class. To be the best archeologist he could. To search for the truth and the facts. To earn his father’s respect. Before the night was over Jack had decided to give his grandfather a chance and find out if there was anything to this vision that he might have had. He owed his
grandfather that much to give him at least a chance. He had come home after all to smooth out the wrinkles between them. And this might be a way to do it. Even if he didn’t believe in spirits and visions. At least he would be able to give him and his grandfather a chance to work out some of the things that weren’t right between them. Maybe, Jack thought to himself that this might be the beginning of that great thing he was meant to do with his life. Maybe his grandfather was right. Tomorrow he would find out.
Chapter 2 Twenty years Paul Winslow thought to himself. Twenty years he had been searching for the tablet. Twenty years of traveling from country to country. Researching and studying every piece of information he could get his hands on about the tablet. He was exhausted as he wiped the blood from his nose and shoveled his last shovel full of dirt from the entrance of the tomb. His nose bled whenever he was under a great deal of stress. And today was one of those days. This final expedition cost him just about everything he had. It had to be here he thought. He couldn’t be wrong. There was no way he could be wrong. Not this time. He had sold almost everything he owned and borrowed what he could just to pay for
this expedition and he couldn’t be wrong this time. Too much was resting on him finding the tablet. Paul climbed up the make shift ladder in the hole that he had dug and made his way through the dense jungle to his truck to get his crow bar to pry open the cover stone of the tomb. He hired three natives to help him with the dig but they had run off when they realized where and what he was digging for. This was sacred ground and they wanted nothing to do with what Paul was digging up. They knew that the tomb he was digging up belonged to a very powerful Olmec king and it was not meant to be disturbed. This they knew from the stories they were told growing up in their village. “Superstitious primitives”, Paul thought as he watched them run away into the jungle and back to their village. Leaving Paul alone with the task of digging up the tomb by himself. “SUPERSTICIOUS IDIOTS!” He screamed into the jungle hoping that the natives would hear him. It was mid-afternoon and it was humid and hot. And he could feel the sun beating down through the openings in the dense Mexican canopy. He made his way back to the hole he had dug and threw the crow bar in. “Superstition or no superstition today is my day!” He said talking to himself climbing
back down the ladder. “It’s time for the big payoff. And no one and nothing is going to stop me.” He said talking to the cover stone. The only reply the cover stone could offer was the hieroglyphics carved on its surface. A warning, that this was the tomb of the first ruler of the Olmec people and anyone who disturbed it would be damned for all eternity. A warning he cared nothing about, except for what was inside the tomb. He got down on his knees and brushed away the remaining dirt from around the seam of the cover stone. Twenty years before he was considered one the world’s premiere archeologist. He had rewritten the textbooks on the Sphinx and proved that it out dated the pyramids by at least 10,000 years. Paul had shown that the Sphinx wasn’t built by the ancient Egyptians because of the erosion on its surface. Erosion that could have only come from flowing water. He had proven that the time period for the construction of the Sphinx had to of taken place thousands of years earlier. When Egypt wasn’t a desert, but a plush and fertile land with water that flowed through the location of the Sphinx. Paul specialized in the origin of cultures and civilization. He was one of the best in his field. Until he was discredited and fired from a
dig in China for selling artifacts to anonymous collectors. A mistake he has never been able to live down. A mistake that destroyed his reputation and credibility. But not today. Today was the big payoff for the last twenty years of suffering. He grabbed the crowbar and shoved it deep into the seam of the cover stone and with all his weight pushed on the crowbar. The cover stone resisted, as if to give its final warning not to disturb this tomb. With blind determination Paul rejected the stones last and final warning and with what strength he had left pushed on the crowbar again. “COME ON! OPEN! OPEN!� He shouted as he gave his last push. The cover stone surrendered to his efforts and moved over a few inches. Opening a crack that allowed air for the first time in countless centuries to enter into the tomb. The tomb was sealed for a reason many centuries ago. Although that reason had become a myth throughout time, as do many of histories mysteries, it did not lessen the warning on the cover stone. The myth of the first ruler of the Olmec people had become a story that natives would tell around campfires and to tourist that wanted a juicy story to take home with them about their vacation in Mexico. Something for
them to take home along with their native made blankets and pottery. The earliest known civilization in Mexico was the Olmec’s. Their civilization is considered the mother of all civilizations in Mexico. They were credited with having art, mathematics, astronomy, agriculture, religion and the creation of a primitive calendar. The first ruler of the Olmec’s was considered a very powerful god to his people. They say that he came to them as a human, born from a falling star. A native woman one night was sitting outside of her hut looking up at the stars when she saw a shooting star crash to earth off in the distance. In the morning she went to find the falling star and amidst the debris was a baby boy and a tablet made of gold with strange markings on it. She rapped the baby in a blanket and brought him and the tablet home and raised the boy as her son. She believed he was a gift from the gods to her. At the time her village was undergoing a drought and famine. Times were hard for the people of her village. When the boy was found things started to change for the village. Their crops started to grow and the drought that had lasted so long was over. When the boy was older he showed to have the ability to control fire.
This stunned the people of the village. And they began to worship him as a god and made him their first ruler. She named him Nemacha, or “The Giver of life”. Because of his ability to make plants grow. One day Nemacha fell in love with a beautiful woman in the village named Silca. He started to court her, and soon after they were married. Nemacha had an older brother named Pila who was jealous of him. He watched as Nemacha grew up and received his mother’s attention, and the praise of the people of the village. And now his brother married the woman that he also was in love with. This was the last straw for Pila and set out to murder his brother’s wife. To take from him the love of his life. One night at a village festival Pila slipped poison into Nemacha’s wife’s drink. She drank it and became deathly ill. Hours later she died in Nemacha’s arms. Pila confessed to Nemacha for what he had done and Nemacha’s rage was uncontrollable. He summoned the power of fire and destroyed his brother for what he had done. But his rage and pain was still not quenched. With all his power he still could not bring back his wife from the dead. The only way he could was with a special medallion. The medallion of Enki. This
medallion was in a place he would not be able to go to or find. Even after his life as a human was done. Because of whom he really was. The guardian of the tablet. He left the village and lived in the hills for many years until he died alone of a broken heart. When Nemacha died the village people buried him in a tomb in the hills along with his possessions and the gold tablet that his mother found with him in the debris of the shooting star. The gold tablet was said to be inscribed with the story of creation and the powers of the gods. It is also said that anyone who can transcribe the tablet will have unspeakable powers. Hoping to give Nemacha rest in the afterlife, they placed a curse on the tomb in hopes that Nemacha would not be disturbed. Outside of the tomb they carved a giant stone head to watch over the tomb and scare away anyone wanting to disturb Nemacha and his rest. The village people suffered because of Nemacha’s death and their crops no longer grew. They left the valley that was once fertile and beautiful to find a new home. And later to become other tribes known as the Toltec’s and the Mayas. Paul pressed his fingers into the crack of the cover stone and lifted with all his strength and moved the cover stone away from the
opening. He could smell the stench of the tomb escaping through the opening. Lighting a lantern, he proceeded into the tomb. The tomb was covered with an undergrowth of roots and fungus and insects. He walked slowly down the entranceway stepping over stones that were in the way and noticing that the tomb was decorated with ancient hieroglyphs and paintings worn from centuries of exposure to moisture telling the tale of Nemacha and his life. Paul glanced at the paintings for a moment before moving on. Not noticing a part of the tablet’s legend that only a god can possess the power of the tablet. “This is the place!” Paul thought to himself. “It’s payday for me!” He held the lantern in front of him and continued walking, until he reached the back of the tomb were Nemacha’s sarcophagus was. He brushed off the roots and dirt from the top of the sarcophagus and read the hieroglyphics carved into its course surface. “Here lies Nemacha beloved first ruler of the Olmec. Laid to rest for all eternity.” The carvings had no meaning to Paul as he wedged the crowbar into the seam of the sarcophagus and proceeded to pry it open. He pushed the cover aside and sent it crashing onto the dirt floor of the tomb. The cover made a loud dull
thud as it crashed into the ground. Inside the sarcophagus he found the mummified body of Nemacha. And in Nemacha’s arms was the gold tablet that Paul had been searching so long for. “You belong to me now!” He said in a sarcastic voice to the decayed body of Nemacha. He placed his hands firmly on the gold tablet and he could feel how cold it was. The feel of the tablet gave him a sense of death. This scared him a little, and he let go of it. After a moment he got his courage back and grasped the tablet again. And with a strong quick jerk removed it from Nemacha’s mummified hands. He held the tablet up to his lantern to take a closer look at it and admire the inscriptions on it. He knew that it wouldn’t take him long to decipher it and when he did, he would he have the power that he craved. After admiring the tablet for another moment he wrapped the tablet in a cloth, and placed it in his backpack and proceeded out of the tomb not stopping for a moment to close the sarcophagus, or the cover stone to the tomb. He had what he had come for, nothing else mattered to him. Paul raced through the jungle back to his truck. Only stopping for a moment to realize that something wasn’t right. He had a strange feeling that something was watching him. Paul
looked around to see if there was anyone there, but he could see nothing but the dense Mexican jungle. He noticed that there was no sound of birds or animals or even insect coming from the jungle. The air was calm and still. And the sky started to darken. Paul began to panic and started to run at top speed back to his truck. Reaching the truck, he yanked open the door and climbed in. He threw the backpack with the gold tablet into the passenger’s seat and fumbled with the keys trying desperately to put the right one in the ignition. The jungle was filled with a new sound now. The sound of ancient trees collapsing to the ground. Like giant mammoths being fallen by an invisible hunter. Paul could see a bright light emanating from the area where the tomb was. Whatever it was that was making the trees fall was coming closer. Panic was in full force now. And he finally found the right key and started the truck up. The logging road he was on was only a mile away from the main road that led to Mexico City. He looked out his window in the direction of the tomb and could see the trees crashing to the ground. One‌then two‌then three at a time like giant dominos. The bright light that preceded the falling trees was getting brighter. Whatever it was, it was headed straight for
him. With a thrust on the accelerator pedal he sped away down the logging road. In his rearview mirror he could see the trees falling on both sides into the road and the bright light coming closer. “OH GOD!” He screamed into his rearview mirror as the trees started falling closer and closer to his truck narrowly missing his tailgate. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and pressed harder with his foot on the accelerator pedal hoping to gain more speed. “NOT TODAY! IT’S MINE! IT’S MINE YOU HEAR ME!” He shouted into his rearview mirror at his invisible pursuer. Madness had taken its toll on him in his twenty years’ quest for the tablet. And he knew it. Twenty years of searching for the tablet and he finally had what he desired. It was his now and no one was going to take it from him. He could see the main road just ahead and slammed on the brakes and turned the steering wheel hard to the right, sliding sideways into the oncoming traffic. Narrowly missing a tractor-trailer. He regained control and brought the truck back up to speed trying to put as much distance as he could between him and his pursuer. Looking in his rearview mirror he could see that the tractor-trailer had jackknifed in his attempt to miss him along with several other vehicles that skidded off the
road. He looked behind him and found no evidence of whatever was making the trees fall down continuing its quest. The bright light that pursued him had vanished. Whatever it was that caused the destruction in the jungle decided that the chase was over. Or at least for now Paul thought. With a sigh of relief, he looked over into the passenger’s seat and placed his hand on the backpack that held the gold tablet and said to himself, “Now it’s my time to shine.” Paul looked at his watch and calculated that he would reach Mexico City and home before sunset. Wiping the blood from his nose he looked at his fuel gauge and smiled knowing that he had enough fuel to make the journey home. Once he was home he would translate the tablet and finally have the power that he had been searching so long for. The tablet would give up its secrets to him and he would have everything that he wanted. He took one last look at the backpack sitting in the passenger’s seat not knowing truly the power he possessed. Not knowing the destruction, he was destine to cause.