The Belial Stone (The Belial Series) (17 page)

CHAPTER 35

Havre, MT

C
heers rang out across the enclosure.  A crowd of guards and inmates surrounded the two combatants.  The men circled each other, jockeying for the best position.  Both men had cuts on their knuckles and faces.  Their clothing, which had been tattered prior to the fight, had been reduced to mere strips of fabric that barely clung to the men’s emaciated frames. 

Tom was sickened by the spectacle.  The smaller of the men, Seeley, held his ribs.  Tom was pretty sure some of them were broken.  He’d been close enough to hear the crack.  The less injured combatant, Devon, charged across the space, aiming for them.  

“Left hook! Left hook!” one of the guards yelled. 

The man’s glee was splashed across his face.  Tom fought to keep from telegraphing his own disgust.  He must have bet on Devon.

Another guard reached out his foot as the combatants neared and tripped Devon.  He fell to the ground.  Seeley leapt on top of him.  Their thin bodies rolled across the space.  Devon managed to get a leg in between them and flung Seeley off.   With a grunt, he slammed into the ground, his face a painful grimace

A guard across the circle threw a shovel into the arena.  Both men leapt for it, knowing it was the difference between life and death.  The guards pointed and laughed. 

Tom looked away, struggling to keep his breathing even, unable to stand the sight any longer.  Seeley was in trouble.  Devon was the stronger of the two fighters. He outweighed Seeley by a good thirty pounds and had at least five inches on him.  The guards thought it was funny that they were so mismatched.  

The fights happened once a day.  Sometimes the guards let the combatants live, but usually it was to the death.  Even those that lived through the fight didn’t survive many days after it.  They probably could have, if they’d been given medical attention.  But that wasn’t going to happen here. 

And the guards didn’t care.  This was sport for them.  Tom looked over at Commander Gregory.  He stood with his arms crossed, staring down at the combatants, a smirk on his face.  As horrible as the guards were, Commander Gregory was the worst.  

To the commander, this was just a cockfight.  The men fighting were no longer even human to him.  Tom had seen Gregory take every opportunity to inflict pain, physical or otherwise, on the prisoners.  Tom knew he was no exception.  The Commander recognized early on that Tom could take the physical pain easier than the emotional pain.  When he saw Tom’s reaction to the body pit, he made sure that from that point on Tom was always one of the men who carried the bodies over.  Every time Tom did, Gregory was there, watching him.

A loud cheer arose from the guards, pulling Tom’s attention back to the fight.  Seeley had somehow managed to wrestle the shovel away from Devon.  He’d gotten a lucky strike to Devon’s head.  Now he slammed away at him, looking like a man possessed.

Panting, Seeley paused, holding the shovel above his head.  He flipped the shovel over.   Using it as a spear, he drove it directly into Devon’s face. 

Tom’s stomach lurched.  The fight was over.  He watched in horror as Devon’s blood splattered across the ground, along with bits of bone and, oh God, was that brain matter? 

He tore his eyes away from the sight to look at Seeley.  Swaying on his feet, his right arm clutched to his side.  His eyes were wide as he stared at the bloody spectacle in front of him.

Tom looked up into Commander Gregory’s cold eyes. 

“Clean it up,” Gregory barked, pointing to Tom and the man next to him. 

Tom tried to wipe all emotion from his face.  Denying the Commander the satisfaction of seeing him react was one of the only victories he could achieve in this place. 

He walked over to Devon’s body with quick movements, his face without expression.  But as he glanced down at what was left of the man’s face, an involuntary shudder ran through him.  He struggled not to gag. 

Please don’t let him have seen that
, he pleaded silently as he looked up.  The Commander stared down at him, victory in his eyes. 

CHAPTER 36

Saint Paul, MN

L
aney and Jake shared a bench on the campus, right on the river.  Jake was on the phone, relaying the information they’d found out to Henry and coming up with their next step. 

Laney was glad she wasn’t part of the conversation.  Her mind was working overtime with the possibilities around Montana.   Dr. Priddle’s ideas, although controversial in archaeology, were logical, if there was indeed a prior advanced civilization.  But Montana?  She dialed her uncle.

“Hi, Uncle Patrick.”

“Laney,” Patrick exclaimed, relief evident in his voice.  “How’d the visit go?”

“Pretty well.” She gave her uncle a shortened version of the conversation with Tara.  “Is it really possible the site we’re looking for is in the United States?   Is there any evidence of an extremely early civilization in North America?”

“Actually, that’s an interesting question.  Alternate archaeologists contend that North America was indeed home to ancient civilizations.

“What?  I’ve never heard that before.  Is there any proof?

“Well, that’s matter of debate.  There are rumors, of course.  My favorite is about a lost city found under the Grand Canyon back in 1909.   And then there have been isolated findings which people argue indicate an ancient civilization’s existence.  Ancient Indian medallions found in Michigan, a Stonehenge-like structure found in Miami, of all places, an Egyptian statue found in Illinois.  There quite a few unexplainable artifacts that have been found in the U.S., or in some cases, reputed to have been found.”

“So if I told you Dr. Priddle appears to have gone to Montana, would that be a possible location for a second Gobekli Tepe?”

There was silence on the phone.  Laney could imagine her uncle staring, unblinking, his hand on his chin.  Laney had coined it his “thinking man” look when she was a child.

“From a geological standpoint, it’s possible, of course.  The landmass of Montana is millions of years old.”  He paused mumbled.  “Hmmm, could they have gone to New Mexico?  Nah, that was too late in the timeline.  Central America?”

She interrupted.  “Uncle Patrick?  Care to share?” 

“Sorry.  I was just thinking about where they would have gone after.  If the site was created by the Children of the Law of One, and they truly were on the run from the Sons of Belial, they wouldn’t have returned home.  And they wouldn’t have stayed at the site, because that would have led the Sons of Belial right to it.  Yet, they must have gone somewhere.  I was thinking about the Anasazi ruins at Chaco Canyon, but they only date to the tenth century.  So I’m trying to think of where…” 

Laney bit her lip, waiting for him to continue.   

“There is one site that would seem to line up with the timeframe we’re talking about.   Although ‘site’ is probably too strong a word for the location.”  Patrick paused again.

Laney sighed and rolled her eyes.  “Uncle Patrick, if you’re trying to create some sort of dramatic build up, I assure you, you’re there.”

“Sorry, sorry.  It’s not that.  It just, well, it’s almost too incredible.”

“Uncle Patrick, everything about this situation is incredible.  So what’s one more brick in the surreal pile?

Patrick chuckled.  “True enough.  Okay, then.  There was a group of people called the Olmecs from northern Mexico whom traditional archeologists believe reached the pinnacle of their civilization around 1500 BC.  They were known for their carvings of incredible stone structures, weighing over a hundred tons, that they moved across great distances.  Do you remember the book I showed you of statues from all over the world, when you were a little girl?  You called it the giant head book.”

Laney’s mind flashed back to pictures of heads carved from stone that rivaled the size of the sphinx.  “I remember it.  Which ones were the Olmecs?”

“They were the carvings of the heads with African features found in San Lorenzo in Mexico.  And there’s debate as to the age of the ruins attributed to the Olmecs:  1,500 BC is the youngest age that can be attributed to them.  Alternative archaeologists, however, believe that they are thousands of years older.  Some even argue that the carvings were not actually of the Olmecs, but rather were handed down from an even older civilization.”

“Wait, how is that possible?  Africans were nowhere near Central America at that time.”

“That is exactly the issue alternative archaeologists point out.  In fact, they were nowhere near Central America at the later time, never mind the earlier one.  Which, of course, makes it rather difficult to explain how these heads were created.”

“Why do you think these people could be related to a site in Montana?”

“For four reasons.  First, there doesn’t appear to have been any developmental phase in the Olmecs’ civilization.  They appeared on the scene, with an incredible technological ability, essentially out of nowhere.  Second, they sprang up in Central America, which is close enough to Montana if you’re not actually trying to settle too close.  Third, if the Montana site is there and dates the same as Gobekli Tepe, then the timeline is consistent with the older dates given for the Olmecs.  It’s the fourth reason, though, that really gives me pause.”

“And that is?”

“Remember how some academics argued that Gobekli Tepe was pristine because the builders intentionally buried it to protect it?” 

“Yes.”

“Well, at the time of the Olmecs’ downfall, all building stopped.  In fact, buildings were demolished and defaced.  We don’t know if they did it themselves, or if it was done to them.  But in the middle of this, the Olmecs dug and created these elaborate graves that were lined with blue tiles and multi-colored clay.  And into these graves, they placed these huge stone heads and some smaller sculptures.”

Laney imagined the giant stone heads and their burial.  What an incredible undertaking.  Such an elaborate process could only have been done for something they cared for a great deal.  “They were buried to preserve them for future generations.”

“Exactly.  Just as with Gobekli Tepe and perhaps this Montana site, we see people burying something to protect it.”

CHAPTER 37

Chester, MT

G
ideon glanced through the photos Priddle had brought from the dig site.  He, Priddle, and Kensington were in the senator’s study at his Montana ranch.   Kensington had flown in for a few days to see how the site was progressing, and he was growing impatient. 

Gideon’s own patience was reaching an end as well.  He couldn’t understand how no stones had been uncovered yet.  Why was this taking so long? 

He paced along the back wall of Kensington’s office.  He quickly shuffled through the pictures, looking for any evidence of the stone. Where the hell was it? 

Kensington leafed through an identical stack of pictures over at his desk.  He pointed to a symbol in one of the photos. 

“Is this a cross?” 

Gideon knew what picture the Senator was referring to. He shifted to the photo and sighed.  The photo was a close-up of a double crucifix with perfectly straight edges, etched deeply into the granite.  The man was a true idiot.  The site pre-dated Christianity by thousands of years.

Priddle grabbed the photo across the desk and then handed it back. “Not exactly.  It’s more likely an ankh or crux ansata.  It’s seen throughout ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs and denotes eternal life.  It’s believed that the cross that’s used in Christianity was, in essence, borrowed from an older source, perhaps even linking it to the ancient Egyptian quest for immortality.”

“But it resembles a cross,” Kensington argued stubbornly.  

Walking away from the two, Gideon rolled his eyes, knowing why Kensington was trying to tie this structure to Christianity.  His conservative base would love it.  The man couldn’t see beyond his own petty political desires.  Oh, how he longed for the day the man was no longer of use. 

“Yes.  Yes, it does.”  Priddle agreed.

Kensington continued to review the photos.  “How much of the site is uncovered at this point?”

“Approximately fifty-five percent.”

“That’s it?”

“Senator, this site is huge, and you have to understand that archaeology is a painstaking process.  They’ve been working on the Gobekli Tepe site since the mid-‘90s and only uncovered about six percent.  In comparison, we’re moving at a lightning-fast rate.”

Kensington grunted in response.  “What about the Belial Stone?  Have there been any etchings that refer to it in these latest excavations?”

“Uh, yes.” Priddle stood up and took the photographs from the Senator.

Kensington curled his lip at Priddle’s proximity and leaned away from the professor.  Gideon couldn’t blame him.  The man always seemed to smell of old takeout. 

Priddle pointed to the bottom of one of the photos.  “Here, on photo twenty-seven.  Look at the bottom of the lith.”  

The Senator waved Priddle back to his seat and used his magnifying glass to get a better look.  Gideon flipped to photo twenty-seven in his own stack. The frame depicted a priestess standing next to a glowing sphere.  In the next frame, she took the sphere and used it to help a man who had been hurt.   In the final frame, the man stood next to the priestess completely healed.  The stone appears above them.

“What is this?” Kensington demanded.  “Does it tell you where one of the stones is?”

“Uh, no.  Not yet.” 

At Kensington’s glare, Priddle continued, a tremor in his voice.  “It does, however, tell us that the people who built the site are familiar with the Belial Stone and have used it.  It’s only a matter of time before we find one.”

Kensington nodded.  “How much time?”

Priddle looked uneasily around the room.  “I’m not sure.  It’s not clear at this point where the stone will be found.  But we are making good progress.  You realize, of course, that the cold weather will be upon us soon and we'll have to shut down for the winter.  The ground will be too hard to dig through.”

“Can’t we just bring in some earth movers?  Wouldn’t that speed up the project?”

Priddle cringed.  “That’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“For two reasons.  First, the structures are all incredibly close to the surface.  Over time, the ground above them has been eroded by wind and rain.  That’s the reason the first monolith was uncovered.  Left alone, most of the structures would have probably been uncovered naturally in another hundred years or so.  Second, the structures are simply too close together.  If we use an earth mover, we risk damaging the monoliths.”

“So?”  Kensington asked.

“We, also, might lose a Belial Stone in the process or worse, destroy it.  We don’t know if one became dislodged over the years.  By using the earth movers, we could miss it.”

Kensington grunted.  “Fine.  But I expect you to increase the pace before winter.  I want more than pretty pictures of a Belial Stone, Professor.  I want a stone.”

“Sir, the men are working around the clock as is.  Perhaps if we had more men to dig…”

Kensington looked up and caught Priddle’s eyes.  The academic quickly looked away. 

“Very well,” Kensington replied.  “I will get you more men.  But you had better get me results.”

“Yes, sir.  Of course.  I’m sure we’re very close.”

Kensington grunted again and waved him out of the room.  Priddle glanced at Gideon, who had moved to the couch along the back of the room. 

Gideon merely raised his eyebrows and tilted his head towards the door.  Priddle turned.  Tripping on his untied shoelaces, he caught himself on the doorjamb before stumbling from the room.

With a look of disgust at the doorway, Kensington turned his attention to Gideon.  “That man is a cockroach.”

Gideon sighed.  “True, but he is a useful cockroach.”

Kensington’s gaze returned to the photos on his desk.  “Can you get more men?”

“More men are never a problem.  The problem, however, will be when winter moves in.  The professor is right about the timetable.  We have another month, maybe, before winter moves in.  Then you’ll have about 200 or 300 men and nothing for them to do.”

Kensington sighed.  “Well, we’ll just have to close up shop and start again in the spring.”

Gideon looked at him for a long moment.  He knew what the Senator was really saying.  But he got a perverse pleasure from making the man spell it out.  “And the men?”

“They’ll have served their purpose and provided a valuable service to this country.  Once we have the stone, they will have helped forge a stronger United States.”  Kensington leaned back in his chair, his hands across his chest.  “Their sacrifice will be remembered.”