Bones Of Contention: The McKinnon Legends - The American Men Book 3 (31 page)

Jamie began as she always did by first turning on the recorder on the overhead microphone. This left her hands free to explore unencumbered. Adjusting the overhead lamp, she began.

“The date is currently January 13, 2011, eleven hundred hours, British Museum, inspection room number one. Inspection being done by Dr. Jamie Gillman, Texas Tech University, accompanied by Dr. Darren Goff, Oxford. I am beginning examination of Crete Exhibit item number W-13136. Item type-skeletal remains. Plaster cast has already been completed for future inspection and measurement. Plaster cast tagged as item W-13136-A.”

She would let the cast dry while doing the physical inspection later and enter measurements of her skull into the computer for a visual 3-D model.

“This is definitely a female, post-puberty based on the brow ridge and pelvic structure. The woman was obviously young based on the conditions of her bones and teeth. Molars fully erupted,” she said delicately lifting the skull.

“I concur,” Darren agreed.

Then she took a closer look shining her high intensity light on the second molar from the back.

“What the hell is this?” she exclaimed. “Oops.” Then she rewound the recorder back to the point before she cursed.

“Wow, this is highly irregular,” Darren was truly surprised.

“I’ve never seen this in any remains which were not at least twentieth century,” she said looking at the dental work.

“Is there any way the data could be wrong?” he questioned.

“I do not see how. The bodies were completely undisturbed. I understand that the civilization was far more advanced than previously thought. I suppose dentistry could be included in the knowledge. Still, I’m going to ask for a carbon dating.”

Regaining her professional composure, she turned the recorder back on.

“I have discovered something interesting and will, as a result, request a carbon dating to verify the age of this specimen. It looks as if she has a cavity filled using post-modern dental techniques. The filling material is white, almost perfectly matching her enamel material. I almost overlooked it. I would recommend taking a sample of the dental material if possible to see the composition of this material. I estimate her age to be 16 to 18 years. There is one small patch of long dark hair surviving along the right side of the skull. My theory is it was protected and preserved due to the limestone dust along the cellar floor. Skull was found in direct contact with the flooring. Petrifaction of the scalp in this one spot is consistent with other bodies found in proximity.

I’d say she was well-to-do based on the very fine pieces of jewelry found attached to and near her body.

Footnote to self: Reexamine items documented to have been found on or within a three-foot radius and take a closer look at the mosaic. I would like to see exactly what it was she felt she needed to protect, if that was what she indeed was doing.”

Darren offered to bring the artifacts back to her leaving her alone in the room to continue.

“All right, back to examination. She is either a very favored slave, which I doubt, or the lady of the manor. That is my guess. I base my theory more on the fact she led a very pampered life, the result being a fine bone structure with very small areas marking the joining of connective tissue at the wrists, elbows, and shoulders. Her joints show no sign of stress as would be evidenced in a household slave even one as young as this. Spine is in perfect condition showing no aging or stress.”

Jamie paused in the recording changing position along the examination table.

“She is in excellent condition. I see all indication she was in apparent good health when she died. Cause of death based on the physical evidence is most likely drowning given what we now know of the eruption of Thera. No bone fractures except to her pelvic bone which is consistent with a breeched birth, no obvious bone contusions, and no cancer or bone loss. She was not suffering from malnutrition as bone density shows to be excellent.

This specimen is tall for an ancient woman, five ten maybe more, but definitely less than six feet given the length of her femur,” she spoke as she made her assessment.

“The only obvious wound she carries is to her pelvis as previously noted. The woman gave birth only a day or two at the most before she died. I suppose it could be argued childbirth might be cause of death, but I still hold to my earlier assessment of drowning as the most apparent cause of death. Had she died before the eruption, she would have been ceremoniously memorialized per her status in the manner and the custom of this civilization. There was time and she is someone important. They would not have carried her into the cellar after death for several reasons. Disease is one as they used the cellar for food and wine storage. I believe she was alive at the time she made her way into the cellar space.”

She turned off the recorder to rearrange the examination tools, stretch, and take a drink. Turning the recorder back on, she continued without ever looking at the time.

“I am now drilling to capture a small amount of material from the left top molar for DNA testing.” Taking the fine drill used by a dentist, she captured the fine dust and placed it carefully inside the sterile container. She marked it W-13136-B.

“My inspection of item number W-13136 is now complete.”

She turned off the recorder, recovered the remains back with the protective padding, and closed the crate where the woman was carefully housed. Then she stripped off the eye protection and stuffed them back into her duffel bag and set the lighted headset aside. The dust mask and latex gloves were next, tossing them into the biohazard trashcan.

Putting her hands at the small of her back, she stretched backwards to relieve the kinks. She had been working all day, first with the other seven that morning, and now the lady. As was more the norm than the exception, she had lost track of the time, losing almost six hours in doing this inspection of the woman alone.

Having Darren help her had cut the examination time considerably. It was nearly time for the museum to close as she heard the muffled announcement coming through the ceiling above her.

“Well, that is my cue,” Darren said as he, too took off his protective wear and began pulling on his jacket. “Thank you for allowing me to join you. This was a wonderful opportunity.”

“Your flight leaves tomorrow for Lubbock?” she asked wishing she would have the opportunity to work with Darren at the university. She did take to heart that he and Joanna had purchased her house. He was a brilliant mind and had a great personality, who made her laugh and think and question more deeply. However, like two ships their professions had just passed each other on different currents.

“Yes, at seven o'clock in the morning.”

“Best of luck and let me know how it is going. You will know where to find me - here in this musty cellar.” She looked around at her new office.

“Oh, I get the feeling there will be one person who will see to it you get some sunshine every once in a while. Don’t sell Josh short, Jamie. He is a good man.”

“I know, but...”

“No buts. Give him a second chance. I have to go. I still have packing to do.”

“Thank you, Darren. You are a brilliant man and a good friend.” She gave him a big hug, again lamenting the fact it would be years before she had the opportunity to see him again.

“Remember what I have said. Josh is exactly what you need,” he said just before kissing her on the cheek and leaving her alone in her musty cellar.

She stood there for a few moments thinking about his parting words.

Was Josh good for her? She knew she was still drawn to him. Uncomfortable with her thoughts, she turned her attention back to someone else who drew her, just in a very different way.

As if pulled by some supernatural force she could not deny, she was drawn to this faceless woman as she carefully removed the mold from the plaster. Then on impulse, she decided to do a facial reanimation. It would be marvelous if she could put a face to this lovely lady. The museum had not contracted her to do this; nonetheless, it would be her gift to the museum, the world, and to the faceless woman who deserved for the world to know what she looked like as well as how she lived and died. Putting a face to the dead always made it more personal.

It often felt as if the dead were crying for her to bring them back to the living. As was often the case, she felt driven to complete the clay sculpture. If it were good enough, it would ultimately go on display.

Working all through the night, not even stopping to eat, the face that finally emerged was one of delicate and exquisite beauty. A face that could have rivaled Helen of Troy launching a thousand ships, a face many would have lived and died to protect. It was a youthful, beautiful face that broke all boundaries of logic.

What she saw there in that face was impossible to reconcile with the facts as she knew them. She was a scientist and still the evidence was irrefutable. As she worked with the raw clay letting her hands bring the clay to life, simultaneously she ran the computer models as a dual, more scientific approach to the reanimation.

In the past this technique had helped her to gain the buy-in of other more skeptical individuals of the scientific and law enforcement communities. It was a process she consistently used because it helped her to focus on the art and let the science take care of itself. She had science and computer animation backing her ability as a sculptor, which took the human element completely out of the equation. She was one of the best in the world at what she did, and her art and the science usually merged flawlessly, effortlessly. This time looked to be no exception as she compared her handiwork with the 3-D model staring back at her from her computer screen.

“What the hell is going on here?” she whispered, not trusting her own eyes.

She was looking into a face that could easily be Jesse McKinnon complete with the long dark hair.

Josh felt the seconds tick by, and it seemed like an eternity as he waited for Gage or Jacob to respond. Something was happening to him at a molecular level; his insides felt warm, uncomfortably warm, as if beginning to melt. His skin felt sensitive under his cotton shirt. His jeans chafed and his boots were too tight.

“Tell me what is going on! And where did they go?” he asked looking around the now empty room save for himself, Jacob, and Gage.

Priding himself on being a very observant person who usually missed nothing, Josh managed to completely miss the band of warriors soundlessly slipping back into the darkness. One second they were there and the next, it would seem, they were simply gone. Maybe they had suspended time or had the ability to cloak themselves? Perhaps they were still there just invisible to the eye. It was just one more example of the power he could still feel lingering in the air pushing against him as if he were packed into an overcrowded room, bodies pressing, touching him. Whatever else this group was capable of doing was now left up to the imagination to fill in the blanks.

Jacob saw and understood his puzzlement. “Josh, there is an old saying of the Brotherhood. ‘Some are born to it, some are called to it. Blessed is the man who is both.’ You, my friend, are both.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Come with me,” Gage ordered Josh.

This time he did not hesitate.

He wanted answers and if it meant walking through fire to get them, he would follow Gage through hell and back. He had no idea that hell
would be literal. With each step he took deeper into the darkened passageway, he felt his blood thickening, almost stopping the flow to his brain like water freezing in a pipe.

Ten minutes into the tunnel his blood was now down to a trickle and he was having trouble thinking. Focusing was out of the question. He could not focus no matter how hard he tried, and the roar in his ears was deafening. He was using the walls to feel his way along and to keep himself upright.

The pain was increasing, and he felt like every nerve ending was being touched with a match and his skin felt pierced with tiny needles. His clothing hurt his now oversensitive skin, and at some point he shed his clothes not even realizing it. Jacob had him by the left arm, Gage the right, each dragging him along, no longer able to support himself.

The three emerged into an antechamber deep in the bowels of the castle. The power flowing through his body burned and each breath he took was strained, unnatural, and labored. It was physically excruciating. He clinched his teeth in order to keep from crying out and forced the muscles in the side of his jaw to spasm painfully.

The marking on his arm felt like it was a living creature crawling under his skin as it strained to burst forth from its biological cage. The blood oozing from it was leaving a crimson trail to the tips of his fingers as it dripped in a steady stream hitting the ancient stone floor where it was soaked up instantly by the centuries of settled dust. He could hear the sound of the drip above the roar in his ears.

“What is happening to me?” he forced through his clenched jaws. He felt as if his whole body was flying apart.

Gage felt for his American cousin. “It is a kind of transformation that should have happened and would have happened years ago if you had been schooled properly. I’m sorry, Josh. With you being adopted, no one ever thought to inquire and we had no idea until recently you were of the Brotherhood, much less a Protector. Now, we just have no time to break you in slowly. It will soon pass. Come lie down and just let the process happen. Jacob and I will be here to do what is necessary. If it doesn’t kill you outright, you will be fine in a few hours.”

Jacob and Gage exchanged looks. No one had ever before made the change past adolescence. They really had no idea if this would work or not. Normally the change was triggered by the mature Protectors, happening just before the onset of puberty, before muscle mass was formed allowing the physique to develop over time. What was happening to Josh in the matter of hours was the equivalency of twenty-five years of weight, endurance, and strength training. His senses were sharpening at an alarming rate which left him no time to develop filters; filters that he would need to keep his sanity and prevent sensory overload. The process could well kill him. If his heart were not up to it, he would die.