Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

Crydynelm
Crydynelm
Crydynelm
Ebook423 pages7 hours

Crydynelm

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars

()

Read preview

About this ebook

When Professor Stanley Manning and Professor Brandon Horne undertake a routine ‘dig’ in Brazil in 1949 while working for the University of Stanton in West Virginia as archeologists, they are startled when they find a strange ancient pyramid that does not fit the traditional description. Instead, they discover a primeval device inside the pyramid that appears to be an advanced computer. When they attempt to move the equipment to a safe place, deadly creatures that look like gargoyles and ancient stranger creatures that resemble shadow men attack them with lethal force. As a dangerous thunderstorm inundates the jungle, they escape only to find themselves alone and at the mercy of the jungle. Encountering rebel gargoyles that are at war with the ancient voracious shadow people, they escape after hiding the computer. As they make their way back to the US, they realize they are targets of the shadow people and the gargoyles. They want the computer and the pyramid back. They will do anything to get it. Manning and Horne face incredible danger as they attempt to recover the electronic equipment they left in Brazil. The brutal gargoyles and the hellish shadow people constantly attack them and surviving the ordeal becomes their main objective, one they cannot afford to lose.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMay 29, 2014
ISBN9781311093264
Crydynelm

Read more from Dallas Releford

Related to Crydynelm

Related ebooks

Science Fiction For You

View More

Related articles

Reviews for Crydynelm

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars
0 ratings

0 ratings0 reviews

What did you think?

Tap to rate

Review must be at least 10 words

    Book preview

    Crydynelm - Dallas Releford

    CRYDYNELM

    The adventures of Bandon Horne in the other world

    By:

    Dallas Releford

    Published by

    Dallas Releford at Smashwords.com

    Crydynelm

    Copyright (C) 2014 Dallas Releford

    * * * * *

    This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, places, events, organizations, areas, or locations are intended to provide a feeling of authenticity and are used in a fictitious manner. All other characters, dialogue and incidents are drawn from the author’s imagination and shouldn’t be accepted as real.

    No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without explicit permission from the author or publisher except in brief quotations used in an article or in a similar way.

    Smashwords Edition, License notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The ebook may not be re-sold or given to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    * * *

    DEDICATION

    I would like to thank my wife Sharon for her understanding and devotion for the last thirty years while I worked on many novels and other projects. She passed away on August 18, 2010. She is dearly missed and will always be remembered.

    I would also like to thank my agent and typist, Harriet Smith and Martin Smith, my advisor and typist. Their hard work and dedication has made this book much better than it would have been without them.

    I would also like to thank Doug Fike for his encouragement and advice about many issues regarding my work that allowed me to complete the book in a more timely fashion. I also appreciate his willingness to read my work and offer advice about how my manuscript might be improved.

    CREDITS

    All graphics and images were procured from

    WAGGING DOG MEDIA LIMITED in England and Wales. Their website is freedigitalphotos.net.

    * * * * *

    CRYDYNELM

    The adventures of Brandon Horne in the other world

    Dallas Releford

    * * * * *

    I

    August, 1974

    Undaunted, on that hot, humid August day in 1974, I held the letter from my friend, Stanley Manning in my hand unable to comprehend when I had heard from him last. Incomprehensible was the fact that it had been a long time, perhaps as long as five years. Floundering with a billion thoughts and memories of the most cherished friend I had ever known, I stood on the sidewalk by an aging mailbox while opening the mysterious letter. The letter was addressed to me, Brandon Horne and it had been mailed from Cincinnati, Ohio only a few days before I received it in Stanton, West Virginia. I perceived this as a fast delivery time. Apprehensive, I opened the letter and stared at a sheet of paper with only one word written in the center of the page.

    CRYDYNELM

    Scrutinizing the ominous word that was displayed clearly on the sheet of paper, my heart beat faster and I felt slightly faint as the meaning of the word came to my realization. Sending me a letter with that word written on it meant only one thing. Stanley Manning had finally found something he had spent his entire life looking for. That portentous word brought waves of chilling terror sweeping down upon me like blasts of bitter cold wind. The name was unspeakable. The horrors and terror attached to those nine letters were too much for a human mind to comprehend. The terror associated with it was almost too much for a human mind to overcome. I did not want any part of this madness; except I owed my life and my success to Stanley Manning despite the fact, I had not seen him for a very long time.

    Manning had once told me that the word was pronouncedby him anywayas cry-den-elm. I have no idea about who or what told him that. The word was as mysterious and foreboding as the rest of the insidious, hellish world we had come to know.

    The terror and the lunacy came from my sudden responsiveness that the word meant several things and none of them were good. The word could mean that Stanley Manning, my former professor at the University of Stanton, was dead. He might have known that he was going to meet his fate and had sent me the letter as both a warning and as a last goodbye. The word might also mean that Stanley Manning, after fifty years of searching, had found an object by that same name that was on the letter. If none of those profound conditions were true, then everything was fine and Stanley just wanted to meet with me to discuss something important he had dug up. Each contact we formulated with each other meant that our meeting might be the last one. We had decided to communicate only by mail. Telephone calls could be intercepted and monitored.

    For most of our lives, we had been on the run, concealed in secrecy, in a constant battle to stay ahead of the shadows of death that constantly stalked us. They were everywhere and we did not know and could not perceive when they might appear and extract the life force out of us. We both knewStanley and Ithat the day would come when they would find us. Except, until then, we were free to pursue a solution to the problem of evading them entirely, forever.

    Was I insane or was I really on a ledge, five hundred feet above a deep ravenous river, just waiting to jump? Insanity was like that. Sometimes, perhaps many of us are introduced to the possibility that we are on the verge of insanity, at least for a brief time. Subsequently, I grasped that I had been a guest of that possibility for a long time because the word written so vigilantly in that letter, was insanity. That name that was written on the letter I had received from him was not spoken or whispered where anyone, except Professor Manning and I could hear it.

    With the open letter in my hand, I walked back to the house and sat down in an armchair by the front window where I could look out upon the street. For once in forty years, I was not watching for them. I was sitting wondering what I was going to do.

    With the air conditioning off because it caused me to sneeze, the house was hot and humid inside, a condition that reminded me of that hot July day in 1949 when we first engaged our long, stupendous journey into terror and midnight. Our troubles had begun about that time and sometimes; I thought that it was a hundred years ago. The windows were open allowing a cool breeze to push the white lace curtains into the house. Even a slight breeze was not enough to drive away that humidity.

    Manning and I had been together since grade school and attended the same university. Manning graduated two years before I graduated and acquired a position with the university as an archeologist. His specialty was ancient human languages. When I received my degree in liberal arts Professor Manning asked me to work for him as a documentation specialist. My goal in life was to become a famous writer. However, writing scientific documentation was not exactly what I had in mind. Nonetheless, it did provide a favorable salary for me and the work was not overly difficult.

    Nonetheless, I decided that I could write my stories in my spare time and still accompany Professor Manning on his marvelous adventures that might take us around the globe. Always open to opportunities, I saw traveling with the professor as an advantage because it would introduce me to new people and new situations I could use in my writing career. The only problem was that what happened was a little too exciting for me. The horror and danger was a little more than I bargained for.

    Compromising, something I found difficult to do, I studied for a degree in anthropology. The liberal arts degree was fine for writing. However, it did little to help me understand the kind of research Professor Stanley Manning was interested in. When I finally received my degree in anthropology, we were a better team armed with exceptional knowledge of past languages and culture. To be sure that I could comprehend Manning’s frame of mind, I took extra courses in archeology.

    When Manning was not teaching archeology, he took on projects that got him out of his office and into the field. I guess both of us knew we would end up working with each other. Manning had managed to interest me in the spiritual beliefs of ancient people, or as it is often called, spiritualism. We were young men with a yearning for doing great things and I could never figure out why he wanted to waste his education and talent on chasing down ancient legends.

    However, when I initially presented the question to him, he reminded me that his wife, Geraldine had died four years prior, a few years after they were married. Manning believed that ancient people were able to communicate with the spirits of the dead. His sole purpose in life was to find a way to communicate with his wife, whom he loved dearly. I guess, as I would find out in the future, that the grieving never ends. Manning hid his grief by keeping busy exploring unknown places. Knowing he was a wise man who was my friend, I agreed to work for him and to help him find out the secrets of the ancients. That decision was the worst thing either of us ever did. We would live long enough to regret that decision.

    1949 was a long way back in the past. Now, sitting in that dismal room in 1974 staring out at the forsaken street where I had lived a miserable forty years, my mind gallantly fought every valiant effort I made to recall those faraway years that brought us so much demoralizing terror. With Professor Manning’s letter in my hand, I attempted to force memories into my mind that I did not want to recall.

    In 1948, Sharon and I lived on a small farm southeast of Charleston, West Virginia. We both worked a few miles northeast of Charleston at the University of Stanton. I was a teacher and a documentation specialist while she worked as a receptionist. Professor Stanley Manning was an archeologist. In the wintertime, he taught classes in archeology and in the summer months he was always off on a ‘dig’ in a foreign country, mostly in South America. He had just returned from working in Brazil in 1948.

    I loved the farm where I lived. I had lived there a long time with my wife, Sharon before I lost her. Now, her ghost walked the spacious farmhouse, the upstairs, the deck at the rear of the house and many times in the years after her death, I sometimes saw her in the twilight of the evening wandering alone across the meadow around the farmhouse toward the forest. It was in that forest that something had taken her away from me. The farmhouse was located about half-a-mile from the main road. A long graveled driveway led from the road to the porch in front of the house where it curved around and allowed visitors to exit from another lane on the south side of the farm. In the summertime, I recalled all the times we had wandered down that lane, hand in hand, as the last sunlight of the day surrendered to the cool summer night.

    Sharon and I worked hard during the day and at night; we attempted to put our daily woes behind us. We enjoyed each other’s company as much as possible. During those times, we were happy with things the way they were. It was Manning that changed all that and our lives would never be the same.

    1949 - Thoughts about our first expedition to Brazil.

    The first trip Manny and I made together was to Brazil where we spent the summer of 1949 digging in ancient ruins hoping to make a great discovery that would boost our knowledge of the ancient world and the people living in those times. In the summer of 1948, Manning and his crew had been to a dig in Brazil where they were not successful in finding what Manny was looking for.

    Leaving Sharon to fend for herself had been a momentous decision requiring much thought and consideration. I hated the thought of leaving her, except she insisted that I go. She argued that she had plenty of friends to spend time with and to help her. We needed the money so I agreed to go on the expedition. I was young and inexperienced in the ways of the world and of people.

    Manning was convinced that each of the ancient civilizations that existed hundreds, or thousands of years ago had the ability to communicate with the spirits of the dead. While doing legitimate archeological work for the University of Stanton and several other institutions, he kept his eyes open for any clue that would prove his supposition.

    At that time, we loaded our equipment onto ships and headed for Brazil.

    Braving hot humid jungles, we traveled to a remote area of the country where other university crews had dug the previous year. Amongst jungle vines, almost impenetrable foliage and dangerous creatures they had cleared an area that was almost a mile square. Within the confines of that sweltering jungle, they had found a city. They called it Anziekel. They had found little evidence that would help them identify the people who had once lived there. Nobody knew who the people were, how they lived or where they had gone.

    Sitting alone in the dimly lit room in 1974, I tried to envision that city like I first saw it in 1949. The town had been laid out with a large pyramid in the center aligned with North and the South. The streets were extended out from the central pyramid. The houses constructed along the streets were topless. The roofs had collapsed long ago leaving partial walls still standing. There were no pottery or bones found inside those walls. Time had either destroyed them or they had never existed in the first place.

    They had only excavated the central part of the city. Professor Manning explained to me that there was still more of the city in the untouched jungles. It would take years to excavate the entire city or town. At that point, we thought it might be large enough to be a city. However, we were willing to wait and see if it was huge enough to be called a city. We could possibly estimate the population of the settlement once we knew how many dwellings made up the city.

    Local Indians and natives told us that an ancient race dwelled there over twenty thousand years ago. They also spoke of creatures that lived for over two hundred years. They described strange creatures that didn’t sound like anything we’d ever seen or heard of. According to the native villagers, these creatures had come from the stars.

    The only problem was that we could not find any evidence that such beings had ever existed or existed now. Manning was hopeful. Sometimes, he became frantic when we’d dug for days without finding even a small bone or bone fragment.

    At the end of the summer, in 1949, just two weeks before we had to continue our teaching careers back at the university, we packed up our equipment, sent our student volunteer helpers home and prepared ourselves to accept our failure to accomplish our great discovery. However, an event occurred that imperiled our world and our lives.

    I realized something for the first time and it terrified me. I hoped desperately that our decision to seek answers to his quest in Brazil would not put our jobs in jeopardy. After all, two weeks was not much time to accomplish much. The last thing we wanted to do was to be late for fall classes. We both taught at the university and they were strict about their professors being timely.

    Manning had become fanatical with finding an ancient civilization he'd heard about that had knowledge of the other side. Manning was obsessed with contacting the spirit of his deceased wife. Apparently, he was not too concerned about how he did it. He did not care much about what it cost life-wise or cost-wise. I had realized early on that he might possess the ability to get us both killed just to accomplish his goals. With that thought in mind, I decided to exercise caution in the decisions I made.

    His endeavors were a dangerous path to travel and one that led to pain and terror.

    Nothing of interest had been found at the dig deep in the sweltering jungle where we had been working all summer. Working enthusiastically during the hot summer months, we excavated so many trenches and ditches that the place looked like something ants might create. In testimony of our hard work, we could see the results of our labors in the form of a city made of stone with collapsed roofs and fallen walls. As I tried to visualize what it once looked like, I could not imagine what the people that had once lived there looked like. Perhaps I did not really want to know.

    Doubtful that even the Aztecs or the Mayans had built the once bountiful city, we were puzzled because we did not know who the creators were. The stones fit together so closely that you could not slide a sheet of paper between the stones, or in some cases, even tell where they joined.

    As far as we knew, the required technology to build such structures did not exist five hundred years ago and most certainly, not twenty thousand years ago. Except, we soon learned that these buildings were much older than that. In fact, they had been built either shortly before or after the last ice age making it one of the oldest cities on earth, if not the oldest.

    Manning was somewhat convinced that we were only seeing the tip of the iceberg. I doubted if there actually was a city beneath the jungle floor and that an opening existed to that world from the pyramid or somewhere else. Manning said that the city was deep under the surface, except he failed to convince me that the city actually existed.

    Tolerating the heat, the noise of the animals and insects around us, we hurriedly packed the last of the crates and stuffed my documentation into paper boxes as the fiery sun dropped lower in the sky. All of the tents, except for two and other equipment had already been moved down to the river where they would soon be on their way back to the United States along with the students and workers. Four local villagers whom we had hired would help us move the rest of the equipment down the river to a village near the coast where a light seaplane would transport us to a nearby airport. The rest of our equipment would be transported by ship back to the university.

    I was packing the last box of documentation when Manning came running into the clearing where I had taken refuge under a canopy of trees with thick leaves. In his trembling hand, Manning held a piece of flat rock about the size of a saucer, only it was almost triangular. I sighed as a quick breeze blew across the river and blessed my sweltering body with a dash of cool air. My nostrils detected the smell of rain in the air. Sudden severe thunderstorms were commonplace there. Manning’s contorted and excited face bothered me. Had he discovered something at the last moment, or did he simply want me to pack the rock with the others?

    Before I could inquire about the preposterousness of the expression on his face, he held the rock before me so I could see weird characters inscribed on its hard surface. Manning held the flat, black triangular stone up in front of my face for better effect, or to make sure he had my attention. Taking the rock from him, I studied it and glanced at him with raised eyebrows. Where did he find the rock? It most certainly wasn’t one of the artifacts the students and other workers found. If they had discovered it, they would have immediately informed the professor and me. Since they had not notified me of the strange writing on the stone, I knew then that Professor Manning must have recently discovered the stone with words on it that neither of us were familiar with.

    Strangest of all was the fact that the writing was on a piece of metallic material on one side of the artifact while the other side seemed to be made of fabulously polished marble. Weirdest of all was the fact that the aluminum-like metal seemed to blend with the dark marble on the other side. It was not stone at all. It was merely a part of something else. It was something else larger, ominous and evil. I could feel appalling vibrations in my hands while I held it. It was as if the artifact was vibrating at a higher frequency than I was. I supposed that might be true although I did not understand much about such things. Touching it made me feel very uncomfortable somewhat like holding a cold rattlesnake in my hand knowing that when it warmed up, it would bite me.

    Manning took me by my arm and led me away from the shade of the wide-leafed trees. The humidity almost took my breath as soon as we walked into the sunlight. Sweat popped out of the pores on my forehead. After a five-minute walk, we entered a small glade where the students had started another trench. They had only dug perhaps five feet in the jungle floor toward a small hill. The trench was approximately five feet deep, four feet wide and five feet long from end to end. From what I knew about digs, they had followed all the procedures documenting everything as they progressed.

    The trench represented about four weeks of hard labor and meticulous documentation. I supposed that we would find their carefully compiled records back there in one of those cardboard boxes with the rest of the papers, pictures, charts and notebooks. Professor Manning stopped and looked at me. Pointing at the ground near the dig, he spoke. I found it there under some leaves, quite by accident. I stumbled on it and wondering what it was, I picked it up. It is part of a larger stone. I think it came from up there.

    Manning again pointed and my eyes followed the trajectory of his index finger to the mound. Then I realized that it was not a naturally occurring hill or mountain because it was square, like a pyramid at its base. Heavy vegetation and vines obscured a clear view of the mound. We walked closer and examined the pyramid, or whatever it was. Together, we cleared vines and leaves from the face of the pyramid with our machetes.

    The pyramid was unlike anything we had discovered before. It was about twelve feet tall and its base was probably near twenty feet square. As far as we could tell it was not a solid object. It was formed from four enormous flat stones that fit so closely together we could not distinguish where they joined. The pyramid was formed from four trapezoids that appeared to have been machined using modern equipment. Their surfaces were smooth polished marble. The top of the mound or pyramid was flat, unlike a regular, traditional pyramid.

    I mentioned to Manning that the stone he had found was very similar to the surface of the pyramid. One side was smooth while the other side was covered with carved letters that we did not recognize as any language we knew.

    This flat stone I have in my hand probably came from this pyramid, I said. We just have to find out where it came from.

    Wondering enthusiastically about what was inside the pyramid and what the purpose of the structure was, we had not even explored the surface of the side nearest to us when Professor Manning leaned forward with a sigh escaping from his lips. Professor Manning only emanated that famous sigh when he was sure about something. At the bottom of the pyramid, the piece of stone he held in his trembling hand fit a jagged triangular hole perfectly, just like a triangular piece of a puzzle.

    We both knew what that meant. For some reason unknown to us, the writing must be on the opposite side of the flat stones, I said. There is probably writing on the walls of that pyramid, inside the pyramid. For what reason did they do that?

    To protect the writing from the elements, Manning suggested stuffing his famous cherry tobacco laced with rose petals into his pipe. Manning only lit the pipe on special occasions. Singularly, Manning used a match to fire up the pipe. Blue smoke trailed away up above our heads as we stared at the remarkable matching of the two stones. It was a rare occasion. It was a ceremonial thing with him.

    Now that we had discovered something worthwhile, we did not have much of a crew to help us. We were also running out of time. Ambivalent about what we could do, we sat on our haunches staring at that damned rock.

    Only thing we can do is to call Professor Marvin Stillwell at the university and request an extension, Manning said not willing to lose such a discovery no matter what he had to do. It will take at least a week to remove these stones, document everything and move it to the river where we will require a barge or flatboat of some kind to transport it down the river. He looked at me and smiled. Any suggestions?

    I am quite sure that Professor Stillwell will authorize our activities once we explain why we need more time. We will also need more crew. We might get help from one of the universities here in Brazil. We need to get them involved anyway. Legal help will be appreciated.

    Once we agreed about our course of action, we moved fast. The closest telegraph station was at a small village five miles down the river. The village did not presently have telephone service. Manning quickly penned a message to the university and gave the letter to one of the local helpers to deliver. He was to wait in the village for an answer. That was when headaches and stress began as we waited for the university to respond. While we were waiting, we were not idle. Arbitrarily, perhaps we should have waited and avoided the danger we thought was nonexistent.

    Manning and I both agreed that if we did not get an answer from the university before tomorrow arrived, we would set out for a small town on the coast where the river emptied into the ocean. Telephone lines there would allow us to call the university. Presently, we knew we were in a grave and compromising situation.

    We only had two tents to sleep in. That meant that the other workers would have to forage for themselves or return to their village for the night and return to work in the morning. Without a tent to sleep in, the villagers would be consumed alive by mosquitoes and other insects. We only had a few tools and enough food and fresh water to last us a few days, at the most. As the hand on our watches crept toward the two o’clock hour and the sun dropped lowerwith the help of the three remaining villagerswe managed to clear most of the bushes, trees and plants from around the pyramid. When we finished, we stood in front of the hellish monstrosity with sweat pouring from our bodies and our hearts pounding from damming terror and deprivation of rest. We were almost exhausted. Nonetheless, that fact did not prevent us from wondering and fearing.

    We felt urgency and trepidation like we had never felt before. The mysterious construction stood before us like a lethal sentinel ready to destroy us at any moment. As we rested under the shade with our backs against enormous tree trunks, we studied the object of our perplexing despair and amazement. Wiping perspiration from our tired faces with large, colorful bandanas, we were awed by the superiority of the ancient structure. Manning spoke the words I had been thinking since we first discovered it.

    It’s twelve feet tall, at least, he said puffing on an unlit pipe. Considering its base, I suppose it is at least twenty feet square. I wonder if it’s open on top. If so, can we gain entrance from that direction?

    I can think of no other reason for writing on the other side of the stones, except to protect the stones from the elements, and perhaps to protect it from outsiders. We don't know if it is hollow inside, if it leads somewhere else, or if there is an entrance here through the pyramid.

    Standing, Manning reached down and picked up a stone about the size of an orange. Tossing it up into the air, aiming it so it would fall on top of the construction, he threw it. Manning groaned miserably when the stone bounced off the top of the pyramid. If we can’t get in through the top, then we’ll go underground, he remonstrated.

    It took us the better part of two hours to excavate the area around the pyramid. Enormous, intimidating roots as big as my arm blocked our way incessantly. After we dug a deep trench up to and around the pyramid, we discovered that the pyramid was located on a square rock more than six feet deep. The people whom built the pyramid and the foundation that supported it were effective in keeping anyone from getting to their archaic writings from above or below. We wondered if the only way was to cut the trapezoids where they so solidly met.

    Using a few pieces of surveying equipment the workers left behind and a tape measure, we were able to determine that the pyramid was thirty feet square at the base and six feet square at the top. From the piece of broken stone Manning had originally found, we determined that the flat stones were two inches thick, exactly.

    We estimated the weight of the entire pyramid, not considering the base it sat on, at about four tons. Manning was quick to point out that we would need heavy equipment to move the stones. I was not so sure. I hoped we could find a way inside the pyramid so we would not have to take it apart. That would require us to move those stones, one at a time, through a steamy, hot, entanglement of vines and bushes called a jungle. There were streams to cross and animals that would not appreciate our intrusion into their domain. We were more than a mile from the nearest river.

    The problem of moving our equipment from boats on the river to our present dig had seemed insurmountable when we first considered it. However, the equipment we required at the dig was broken down and then re-assembled at the site. That was not the case with the stones. We would have to move them very carefully so they would remain intact. Moving lifting equipment through the jungle under any circumstances might be difficult.

    Why not just study the stones where they were, after we got the pyramid taken apart so we could read the writing and see inside? I posed that question to Manning, except he wanted to move the stones so that they would not be damaged. There was also the question of someone stealing them. I wasn’t sure how someone else was going to steal them when we were struggling just to find a solution to that very problem. Moving such huge pieces of marble wasn’t something to be taken lightly. There was also the question of money and financing. Would the university foot the bill, if we moved the stones using their rented equipment? Legally, the pyramid and all the other buildings at the site belonged to the Brazilian government. We could not remove them without the permission of Brazil. Manning was not thinking straight and I knew it. He did not offer to discuss any of the major issues with me. He was too excited about his discovery.

    Manning had insisted that the university would not finance us without some proof that we had made an extraordinary discovery. I suggested that we copy the lettering on the stones and take pictures of them. That way, we could study them back at the university at our leisure. Manning reluctantly agreed.

    Manny let me know right away that he'd come too far to let them go now. If it was at all possible, he wanted to move the stones of the pyramid somewhere so that they would be safe.

    Passively, I assured him that we’d do the best that we could.

    This is it, Brandon, he said. I have never seen a language like we have on that stone. It is something unique. We must find out more. I don't want to take a chance on losing it now.

    Chisels and hammers, I suggested optimistically hoping that Manning might agree with me. We can perhaps chisel the trapezoids that make up the infernal construction, no matter how closely they fit, and then we’ll have to cut a road through the jungle to the river to remove the stones.

    Manning agreed there was no other way so we settled down and were silent for a while as we rested. We both agreed that we would have to build a shelter or a shack to protect the villagers during the night. Professor Manning and I would sleep in the tents. However, there just was not enough room for more than one person in each small tent.

    While we rested, the villagers cut small trees and gathered other materials they would need. They were used to cutting trees down and building temporary shacks. That would solve one problem, except we still had not heard anything from the messenger. What if the university told us to return home as planned? What if they did not approve of us removing the pyramid? And, most important of all; would they finance us for another two weeks?

    During our rest, if it could be called that, we wrote in our notebooks and journals describing the strange structure and how we found it. Every detail of the excavation and the measurements were recorded. We chatted often staring at the blank faces of the pyramid that despondently stared back at us. Since we had encountered the monstrosity, I had a gut feeling that something malevolent was watching me, or that something hellish and horrendously wicked was in that structure. Concluding that if something was alive in there it definitely had been there for a very long time, we agreed that the pyramid predated anything we had seen so far. As far as we could discern, there was no way in and no way out.

    Manny still believed that beneath that pyramid was a tunnel leading to another world, another city on the other side despite the fact that I had showed him a thick rock floor beneath the pyramid. That was Manny. Once he got an idea, a herd of dinosaurs with flames shooting out of their noses could not change his mind. He would stand firm and determined once he had conceived a theory, even if it were improvable.

    Manny. That pyramid sits on a stone floor that has to be six feet deep. How can anything exist below that? It’s like a foundation to a house. It simply holds the pyramid up so it won’t sink into the ground when the ground becomes saturated with water, which it often does here in the tropics.

    I agree, he said. But, I’m convinced that there is an entrance to that other world, or the other ancient city and it has to be here somewhere.

    I sighed without further comment. There was no way I could convince him to leave the pyramid where it was, pack our few belongings and go back to the university. There was no reason for me to even try.

    Manning and I both felt like we were intruding on something we feared and did not understand. Perhaps fear motivated us and kept us going in the face of danger. Factually, we felt that we were violating the territory of something, or someone who could harm us. Manning and I normally thought alike and agreed on many things. One of the things we now agreed on was the fact that whoever built the pyramid had gone to lengthy attempts to conceal the information contained on the inside of the pyramid. Even though we had not found a way to get into the pyramid, we both conjectured, somewhat immaturely perhaps, that there was writing inside that pyramid just like there was writing on that piece of marble that had broken off from it.

    We both wondered what else was inside the chamber. I wondered if we really wanted to know. Voices in my head kept insisting that we forget about the pyramid and leave it as we found it. Except, we would never know what secrets the pyramid held if we gave up.

    When we set up the camp initially in the early summer, we had installed a seventy foot tower on a hill about half-a-mile

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1