EarthUnder (The Meteorite Chronicles Book 1) (7 page)

I paused for a moment to breathe and to look ahead. I heard my father, imparting one of his many pearls of wisdom, “elbow to the grindstone, shoulder to the wheel; don’t look up at how far you still have to go, it will only slow you down”—he was the king of cliché.

I had looked up and my mind was instantly flooded with thoughts of how we could work so fast yet travel so slow. It was exasperating to work through this sand fluff. The driver got the glory of getting to sit on his ass, yelling and driving, but every time he hit another pit, he suffered a barrage of disdain as we cast dispersions on his inept abilities.

Soon we found ourselves back on top of what appeared to be a road surface. It was as if a section of road had been scoured off the surface of the Earth by the wind’s corrosive determination and then this segue of bad fortune reversed itself. As fast as we had covered this track, the winds had removed our sign. For once the wind was our friend. After stacking the tracks temporarily on the rear bumper, Zen, who had drawn the short straw for the day, jumped back into the driver seat and the rest of us followed his lead and piled into the Quat Quat.

Off we went down this seemingly paved road. It was the short straw driver’s responsibility to remember that as we flew down the road we had roughly two feet of grated steel track protruding from both sides of our vehicle. Popular opinion was that we didn’t know how long this delightful road surface would last, and nobody wanted to lie down to formally store the tracks beneath the rig until we absolutely had to. It’s a bit of a trade-off since driving this way was slow and noisy from the rush of air howling through our apparent metal sea anchors.

Ali had the two stones in his pockets. Zen again carried my wallet and passport in his vest. I felt safer knowing that I carried nothing. Then I remembered the chain around my neck and the gift that Kadishya had given to protect me, and my new mission to return it to her safely. Since the first sight I couldn’t get thoughts of her out of my mind. Repeatedly her image appeared in so many of my favorite expressions.

Most compelling was how all of this was falling together and where this journey would lead next. I feared the tiny dynamo that is Jasmina. Her strength and direct demeanor have always set me aback. In our limited past, I felt mostly judgment and disapproval emanate from her direction. Any man will expound on her beauty and rave about her family eyes, those deep, piercing, green windows to the soul. But my Kadishya was always there to buffer encounters with Jasmina and now I was set to meet with her, one on one, for the first time. This simply didn’t bode well for a joyful encounter. My gut told me it could be a disastrous prospect. I knew the boys would be smitten by their first impression, but they too would read between the lines very adeptly and would rapidly acknowledge her tough spirit and armor-plated shield. This way of hers had apparently kept most men out, though not all men, since she obviously had married before becoming a widow.

We traveled a while longer, Zen dodging the odd stone or high spot on the road that might catch hold of our air brakes. It was obvious that the surface continued, so he pulled the car off to the side, where we all piled out to heave-to reloading the tracks back under the car. As always my eyes wandered, hoping not to catch a glimpse of my least favorite critters: scorpions, snakes, etc. I can’t resist the look because it so often produces results. Ali loves to catch me looking around. He giggles the cutest high-pitched giggle whenever he sees me glancing about in fear. He knows now how good I am at spotting a pair of horned eyes peering out of the sand or the dark outline of a plate-sized scorpion strolling along in the dark with all of its assets poised at the ready.

I recalled where Ali and the boys first learned of my fear of things that bite and sting. Many years earlier before I was tuned into these annoying dangers, we were on a wonderful journey through mountains reasonably near this area when we stopped for a break and to visit with three small desert children who were standing on the side of the road at the summit of this range. They were very quiet, solemn, curious observers, there to watch cars and trucks go by as if they had never seen this amazing phenomenon in their short lives. I tried to give them candy or money in exchange for a few photographs, but Ali told me that they didn’t know what these were or what to do with them and that they were not there to take anything, simply to watch. He said that on our way back we would bring paper and crayons and show them what to do with them, and that might win their approval. One could see these children were in utter wonder at the strangers that had stopped to visit. Ali said that they spoke an ancient dialect that he did not speak at all.

While Ali and Zen walked back down the highway to look at the view of the basin we had come through and the view down the range we had climbed for two hours, I went dancing from rock top to rock top so that I could get a couple of hundred feet away from our car to take a picture of the scene. It looked as if giants had been here eons before us and stacked these boulders side by side. As I turned to look back at the road and car, the kids, Ali, and Zen were back to the car with Samir and they were all vigorously waving and calling to me. I could see their sense of urgency and began hopping my way back in their direction. I stopped a couple of times to nose around in the rocks, but there was nothing to see. I had made it roughly halfway back when I stopped again and called out to ask what was the rush.

“Snakes, man!” I looked into Ali’s face for a glint of a smile,
but all I could see was the wrinkles of concern and a very serious posture.

Voice wavering, I called back, “Snakes?!”

He responded in direct reply, “Yeah, man, snakes!”

“What kind?” were my next, rushed, nervous, pointed words.

Ali clarified, “Cobra, man, lots of them!”

Earlier that day we had seen several snake charmers in the Souk we visited, with their cobras in baskets. I asked him about the snakes at the Souk while I danced on boulders from top to top. Ali called back in my direction while he gestured, waving his arms outstretched in all directions, “Yeah, man, where do you think they get their snakes?”

As we continued through the area, I reflected on that past journey through the very same mountain pass. Now the boys were laughing and speaking to each other in broken Berber so that I could not understand. I knew exactly what the joke was.

This encounter with my own ignorance opened my eyes for years to come. I will never again walk around aimlessly and will always keep an extra set of eyes on the ground. Growing up in rattlesnake country with all of my childhood out adventuring, I had only seen one live rattler in the wild and that one was just a few years earlier on an island while fishing. But here, once I started tuning in to the possibility, I saw snakes daily: big ones, little ones, in the brush, in the sand, in the rocks, and often in the cities and villages. I think for me the concern with scorpions comes from that honking huge stinger sitting up there always poised for a strike. Snakes are a horse of a different color. My travel partners think it’s hilarious that a great big human is intimidated by a little bitty insect. The snake episode simply reminds them of my pusillanimous fear of nasty bugs as well. This brands me a constant source of humorous entertainment.

Back in our rig and off we went now with Ali back at the wheel. Laughter erupted again and again as we rolled down the mountain road. The boys were having a great time at my expense, discussing my reactions to tiny critters, their voices elevating in tone and speed as they mulled over my behavior. Ali said we are close to the oasis where Jasmina should be waiting for our arrival. His voice cracked through the tears of laughter they are enjoying.

The hope was that Mina would have information on the path we have left behind and if our safety still remained at risk. Since she had been living here for some time, there was hope that she could give us best directions for getting back where we need to go. The plan in place at this time was for Ali and me to get these two samples to the London Natural History Museum. Once that part of our task is complete, then the risk of hazard would diminish for a time. Meanwhile, Ali had made arrangement for the 11 kilos of gorgeous meteorites to be taken out of the country to get them out of harm’s way. The recent event of bullets through my arm and neck had given all of us a new sense of urgency. One of my biggest concerns and a constant underlying theme in my thoughts was that this work I had chosen was getting too dangerous and I might need to look for a new career. The concern was not for me, but for all the friends who come in contact with me. It was a growing burden of responsibility for me to worry that dear friends and family might be harmed because of my vocation. For now we had to complete the task at hand and get the heck outa Dodge.

The line of thought struck me in an odd way. It suddenly occurred to me that just maybe, our travel direction had been deciphered and our next step might turn out to be another trap. We had no wildly overwhelming need to meet with Jasmina. Here was my gut screaming at me again to listen. Maybe this is what others refer to as the inner voice. I had a gut feeling that there were more serious reasons why I feared meeting with the lovely Jasmina. It was almost as if someone had a way to communicate with these gut feelings and change my thoughts.

“Oh yeah, that’s what this is,” I sneered to myself with sarcastic rebuke. But that voice inside my head was undeniably clear and concise, telling me to ward off this pending evil doom and head for the deep Sand Sea. Putting my hands on Ali’s shoulders, I told him to please turn right. He looked up into the rear mirror with puzzlement in his face.

“What are we doing, man?” Ali inquired, puzzled.

I retorted, “Please, my dear friend, I know this sounds crazy, but we need to move now; just turn and go; I have a gut feeling.”

Ali knows all about my gut. He has seen it save us or others so many times that it’s as if there was another person with us who knows everything before it happens. Often I have felt that he trusts my gut more than I do. He always listens, and this time he smiled as he jerked the wheel with both hands and shouted, “Ok, baby, here we go!”

“Yes, Ali Baby, here we go again!” I yelled as the others simply whooped and cheered. Our mood had become sullen as we drew closer to seeing Jasmina and now that we had shaken things up and were flying blind, everyone was happy again and feeling on top of the world.

Ali shouted out, “Now we follow the gut!” Somehow such a random and illogical choice had changed the entire complexion of our journey. We all seemed happy about this change. It was as if we had all felt that our fate was sealed if we continued to that destination. Now we four were in total control of our destiny and that fate would work itself out just fine this way. We had just severed all connections with the world outside this car and that felt good.

“My friends, we need to make a new plan and it needs to be a plan that keeps us all safe,” I directed. “I figure the best course is for us to split up in four directions; one remains near here for a while to observe activity. One we take out to the coast where he hops a boat and heads for the museum, one takes transport up the coast, and the last drives north for a while and then returns this vehicle to Liashi. Any of you have suggestions or better ideas?”

Silence filled the air for a time while our brains scrambled and sparked with possibilities. I went on to tell the boys that my wish was to get us all out of this danger unharmed. My thinking was that I would run decoy while Ali headed for London and the Natural History Museum. I wanted Zen in place for me to reconnect with as soon as possible, and I just wished to get Samir back to his car and safely home to his fancy life. Beyond getting the fragments into a laboratory for classification, there was no need to take any risks. Also, not stopping to visit with Jasmina kept her safer than if we had gone there, or so I hoped. Everything up until now dictated that these bandits were hot on our trail. Right now, any of us could drive anywhere we wanted and we would be ok. But the sooner we changed our numbers, the better. Ali came up with a great suggestion: to stop in the next village and buy a scooter which he would then ride separate from the group. Eventually he could take another route to the coast.

Samir added his two cents, “I know, I know, I have a good plan, I will ride with Ali, I have a friend some kilometers from here where he can drop me. I can stay for a few days, visit and then he will drive me to my car. Then Zen can take this car north and Liashi will pick it up on his next trip to the city or he can ride with me to pick up the Quat Quat. He is due for a visit to the city to party with me!”

Plans fell together rapidly as we plowed through the dust and sand heading across country. Eventually we crossed another road and took it towards the west. We were making our huge loop after all, and it felt like we had made all the right choices. Just then our flying desert gauntlet zipped over a hump and flew out into the fluff of a sand trap. Before we ground to a halt we were thirty paces into the pit and axle deep in the soft shifting sand. Worse yet, the sand tracks were under the car. We were all so busy brainstorming our next moves that none of us were watching for the hazard. We had to dig out the tracks under the Quat Quat before we could dig the car out. Everyone knew this process would take a full day. The trap was massive so it was easy to see that backing out would be the best effort. Surveying our surroundings, we could see the faint tracks of other vehicles that navigated around the edge of the pit. In this desert, slower is faster. This is where we would use most of our water. Bodies sweated like pots of boiling water. The heat of the sun began to radiate from the paint and metal of the half-buried car, the vehicle of glass, metal, and plastic becoming a Dutch oven buried in a fire pit.

We were working hard and fast, but soon the car was too hot to touch. The water and gas cans strapped to the top whistled from the pressure release vents as the liquids approached boiling temperatures. Soon we would have to wait until dark for the water to cool enough to drink. Quickly Zen removed a water can from the rack and wrapped it in wetted towels and clothing. The evaporating water would refrigerate the life-giving liquid in this can. We would have something cool to drink while we labored to dig our trapped ride from this pit of despair. As fast as we could drink water, it poured out of our skin as sweat. Legs and arms cramped from dehydration as we scrambled to dig the sand out from beneath the car to free the metal tracks we needed to place under the tires. As we dug away sand, more flowed in to replace what we took. Our only chance was to be able to get the tracks far enough under the rubber tires that they could grab hold of the perforated surface, then we could carefully climb our transport back out of this trap. Sweat and sand stuck to the skin. With each breath more water escaped our bodies as the sun slowly, silently made its daily attempt to take lives from the Earth. Ali had the greatest desert wisdom in our group and he wrapped himself in heavy clothing to insulate from the sun’s rays as he shuttled sips of cool water to each of us manning the shovels.

Without words, we labored diligently: a well-rehearsed team all hoping for that moment when the engine would ignite and the tires creep their vulcanized way onto the tracks and atop the sand that holds us. Samir dug with surprising speed and relentless energy in his button-down shirt, creased slacks, and Italian leather loafers. For a city boy he handled the desert challenges seemingly better than any of us. Zen and I dug out the back while Samir managed the front and Ali scrambled about, serving water and coaching the group. In time we were backed out of the fluff and the Quat Quat was parked on firm ground. We loaded the tracks on the back in case they were needed again and began our journey once more, driving cautiously around the edge of the pit. As we followed the faint treads of predecessors, we could see the impressive size of this obstacle. These sand traps are a simple, natural phenomenon and yet the epitome of a passive-aggressive killer. In the deepest parts of the desert these traps are marked by rusted vehicles and weathered bones. Even when death is nigh from the heat of day, the eyes maintain their vigil for creepy crawlies and things that slither.

Later that day we reached a village where we negotiated cash for a scooter that Ali felt would make the distance to the coast. Zen and I gave Ali most of the cash so that he could make his way. We said our goodbyes and wished him to fare well. There was an indescribable difference between how danger felt in a tight group like ours and how it felt to send one of our own off alone into harm’s way. I have never learned how to deal with that particular insecurity. How does one not worry for a friend in danger? It will change again once we have all gone our separate ways and each of us has to get along by our own wits. For now it felt unfair or out of balance. Just before Ali Baba departed, I took one last look at the stone and because there was enough for research I snapped a small end piece off of the Touchstone fragment.

Saying, “Just for luck,” I looked at Ali and stuffed it into my shirt pocket. We wished each other the best of good fortune and safe return, then went our separate ways. Ali would go it alone and race for the coast on his scooter to catch a boat for London, England. Zen, Samir, and I head to get Samir to his friend’s home; then we split again. Zen and I continued to a point where we too could split up to go our separate ways. Zen dropped me in front of a bus station after getting my ticket for me. He would be there to meet me at the destination and all I needed to do was sit quietly and keep to myself.