Irrefutable Proof: Mars Origin "I" Series Book II (4 page)

Chapter
Four

I
leaned up against the book case after Mase left. My mind filled with the
thoughts of what I knew. And, as far as I knew, no one out of my little circle,
knew about. The world, thanks to me were blissfully still in the dark.

For
twelve long years I did nothing with those manuscripts. I wrote that first book
at Mase’s suggestion, and that was the end of it. And probably wouldn’t have
done that much, but Mase, thought better of it, and me.

“Write
a book,” he had said. “Make it fiction, and people can take it for truth or not.”
So that’s just what I did. But whether he said it or not, I knew Mase wasn’t
happy with what I had done with the information. After I tried so hard to
obscure the truth of what I’d found, he had wanted me to do more than the book.
Even though, as I constantly reminded him, the book was his idea.

I
had started calling the manuscipts the AHM Manuscripts. AHM stood for
Alternative History Migration.

I
breathed hard, making an exaggerated sigh, and tried to relax. What I wrote was
that there was an alternative history to what everyone believed was mankind’s origin
on this planet, and what he was capable of. And when I said to Mase man would
have to figure out for himself the answer to our ancient mysteries, I didn’t
mean that either. I did plan on telling it all.

I
was just waiting on one more thing.

I
headed back to the kitchen and washed my hands at the sink.

The
ultimate questions of who we are, where we came from, and what our minds are
truly capable of, was answerable. And, I had the answers. Well, at least I knew
where to get them.

 I
flicked the excess water off my hands, dried them on the dish towel, threw it
back over my shoulder, and sat down to finish cleaning the greens. Looking over
where Mase had sat earlier, I spied the newspaper he had been reading, spread over
the table and the floor. I guess waiting for me to dispose of it.

After
taking out the sports section, so he could glower over his syndicated column that
he writes, he had no further use for it. So, I hopped back up and dumped the
newspaper in the trash. Sitting back down at the kitchen table, I picked up a
leaf, and absently pulled the stem away.

It
was just me and Mase now. We spent most of our time together.
My three kids were grown, and on
their own, whatever “being on their own” meant because we still had to help
them with their bills and college tuition. Logan, my youngest daughter, had
followed in my footsteps and became an archaeologist. Micah and Courtney, a
lawyer and teacher. So much had changed. I didn’t work as curator for the Museum
of Ancient History anymore. I taught at Case Western Reserve University.
It gave me more time to spend at home with Mase, my seven brothers and sisters,
and in my flower garden.

I
looked over at the newspaper sitting in the trash.

I
wonder did he want to keep that.

Better
not get Mase upset with me, I thought. I was going to need him to help me make
it through what I needed to do. Although he rarely got angry with me, even
after thirty years of marriage and all my craziness and bouts with depression,
I can’t remember a time where he was truly upset about something I had done. He
seemed to take it (me) all in stride.

The
manuscripts told the true history of man’s origins on Earth – yes, the truth.
That humankind migrated to Earth after destroying their home. It told how our
ancestors once possessed knowledge even more vast than what we have today. But,
they admitted in those manuscripts, whoever wrote them, that with the knowledge
they had gleaned also came arrogance. That their mindset of superiority is what
helped to destroy their home.

Mars.

Mars
was the original home of a one world governed, technologically advanced, and
superior intellect being. And after destroying it they needed a new home. And
this one world government decided the new home should be Earth. Oh yes, it
sounded so other-worldly and sci-fi-
ish
, but it was the truth.

A
truth I needed to find a way to make the world understand and believe.

How
upsetting would it be to the people of this Earth if they learned that our
ancient mysteries were actually built by aliens? Well, that might just be more
believable than me telling them that those aliens weren’t
aliens
in the true
sense of the word, but rather they were human. Same DNA as us. Mr.
Homo
sapiens
himself.

Actually,
I found out from the AHM manuscripts that there are no such things as aliens.
No life anywhere else in the universe.

 
Life
is singularly ours
.

Well,
so the AHM manuscripts said.

But
now I found out there was something else. Another glimpse of our arrogant
ancestors, the “Ancients,” I called them.

Shifting
in my chair, I shivered at the thought of it.

I
took the bowl of the greens over to the sink to wash them off so I could put
them in a pot to cook.

That
is what had motivated me to write the second book. I could not in any good
conscience, withhold this new information. I couldn’t just brush it under the
rug.

Archaeologists
first had found and excavated Nevalı Çori in the mid-eighties through the early
nineteen-nineties. That was the start of it. Then in 1996, six miles from Urfa,
an ancient city in southeastern Turkey, they found Göbekli Tepe.

Göbekli
Tepe brought all of the previous tidbits found together.

Göbekli
Tepe was an ancient temple built on a plateau in Anatolia. It once was fertile
land. Several rivers had flowed through it, making vegetation abundant. Now it
was more or less desert. The city had been buried for more than ten thousand
years. It was made up of huge stones perfectly hewed out in the shape of a “T” that
created the walls to the open structure. And, according to archeologists, it
had been built by “prehistoric people,” who “had not yet developed metal tools
or even pottery.”

They
couldn’t be more wrong.

Thank goodness scientists were slowly coming
to that realization. But just not quick enough. Without understanding our past
and how it affected our future we were in trouble. History repeats itself. And
we were heading down the same path as Mars.

And it would be my fault if I kept what I
knew a secret. I had to tell what I knew about our history.

Anthropologists had always thought that
people become domesticated first – learned to farm, then the order of things
was that they next built cities around those farms and
then
built places
to worship.
The Agricultural Revolution
. It had been practically carved
in stone, based on evidence from hundreds of archaeological digs and years of
analyzing what was found. Everyone was certain that hunter-gatherers turned to
“city life”
first
then “religious life”
second
. But this dig
showed it the other way around.

From what was gleaned at Göbekli Tepe, hunter
gatherers,
a
nomadic
society, certainly not ones to
stay put too long,
built the temple
first
. Then only sometime
after, actually more than a thousand years after, people started to “settle”
and corral wild sheep, pigs and cattle, and plant wheat.

So now were hunter-gatherers building
temples? How could that be? Scientists were scratching their heads. After
excavating the ancient temple on the mount, they were now starting to
understand that civilization didn’t quite happen like they’d thought. Indeed,
scholars were asking, “Will this turn the conventional view of the rise of
civilization upside down? Could we have been wrong?”

It’s not that they were wrong,
they just had things mixed up. They didn’t know about the saboteurs.

Saboteurs another term I’d coined.
I had discovered that when man made his trek from Mars to Earth, they had
decided only to seed the planet with one race of people.
“Difference breeds
hatred.”
One of the first things I learned was in the AHM Manuscripts. I
also learned that that plan had backfired and other races came too.

My belief was that the original
people sent here, the Indians, were who we call
hunter-gatherers
. They
were the ones that didn’t know about fire, or farming, or city life because
they had been regressed. But the saboteurs came and ruined the idyllic little
world planned. Still having the advanced knowledge, but not equipped with
anything but the crude materials they found here they created the ancient
mysteries we have today. They built Göbekli Tepe. The Saboteurs. They are the
ones who taught the hunter-gatherers to farm. They are the answer to the
how
ancient man could do all the things we wonder about. Basically, the saboteurs
screwed up the government’s whole plan of and brought their knowledge to Earth.
And in doing so they left us ruins, like the Nazca Plains,
and the
step pyramids in South and Central America,
and hundreds of
other things prehistoric man couldn’t have possibly accomplished. Or so we’ve
been led to believe.

To
add to that, scholars were coming to the realization that people in places like
Egypt and the ancient city of Sumer didn’t experience a learning curve. The
advanced skills they exhibited in architect, mathematics and science didn’t
grow gradually by trial and error. Unlike how we saw man advancing from the
Stone Age to the Bronze Age, learning to go from stone arrowheads to melting
down metal. The first evidence of their prowess - the ability to build a
pyramid, to calculate pi, and to perform brain surgery, seemingly appeared all
at once. So, with the questions piling up, we’re left wondering:
How did
they get it right on the first try?

Scientists
can’t answer these questions and for the most part, are turning a blind eye to
them. When people theorize that perhaps there may have been an era of human
civilization that was capable of advance technology, scientists scoff at the
idea and call the people who suggest it fanatics, charlatans and crackpots.

“But
listen,”
Mr. Crackpot
might say to Mr. Scientist, trying to argue his point. “S
ay 100,000 years
ago, a time when supposedly the most advanced being was the Neanderthal, there
really did exist beings more capable than those here on Earth. Wouldn’t that
answer all the questions that are puzzling you?”

“No
way,”
says Mr. Scientist
.

What
do I say, scientist that I am? I’d say, “I’m on your side Mr. Crackpot. Because
you are absolutely right
.
”

But
as a “scientist” how do I reconcile that? Aliens? C’mon.

That’s
why I had to wait on one more thing before I could tell the world, sort of
speak. One more thing I needed to get first.

Proof.

Proof
that it was possible to travel among the stars, to cure all diseases, to create
the molecules of life, and for man to leave his home on Mars and come to Earth
to start anew. That’s what I needed.

Irrefutable
proof.

Chapter
Five

Baltimore
, Maryland

July 15, 2011

 “A
book by Abby Vandiver? Hold on, let me check for you.”

Addie
Hughes winced at the woman’s squeaky voice. She put down her coffee mug to try
and calm her shaky hand, and held her breath in anticipation of what the woman
would come back and say. Her book club had just read
In the Beginning
,
and she had loved it. The story of mankind’s migration to planet Earth. The
answer to Indians populating the planet when Europeans had yet to set foot on
what they thought was uninhabited land. The truth about what happened to the
dinosaurs. But it was what was at the end of the book that got her. The
Epilogue. It made her believe.

Calling
the publisher of that book was her last resort. She had diligently searched the
Internet and found nothing new about the book, the author, or any cult
followings, which she was sure would have happened. The book had been written
more than ten years ago, and there was nothing since then. Then she had
searched the Internet about what was
in
the book. She now knew, without
a doubt, that the entire book was true. Oh sure, the names had been changed to,
as they say, ‘protect the innocent,’ but the basis of it, just like the author
had written, was real.

The
Internet was full of people that could corroborate her findings. They may not
have been scientific people, but they seemed to know the truth.

She
looked down at Zeus, her white, short-haired Maltese, who sat on his hind legs
and looked up at her. “Cross your fingers, Zeus.” She raised up her crossed
fingers so he could see them. “Let’s hope they have something.”

“Now
you wanted to know about the sequel?” Squeaky voice came back on the phone.

“Yes.”
Addie closed her eyes and thought,
please, please, please, say there’s a
sequel
.

“Yes,
there is a sequel.” Addie, made a fist and yanked it down. Zeus cocked his head
to one side. “Yes,” Addie mouthed to her dog. “They have it.”

“But
she won’t be using the name Abby Vandiver for this one.” Squeaky was still
talking.

“Oh,
I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“For
the sequel she won’t use the pseudonym Abby Vandiver.

“Abby
Vandiver’s a pen name?”

“Yes,
it was. Now, you wanted to know about pre-release copies?”

No
wonder I couldn’t find anything about her
, she thought. “Yes,” Addie said trying to stay focused.

“Well,
if you could hold on for me just one more time. I’ll get you to the right person.
That’ll be Kate Gianopoulos. I’ll try Kate. If she doesn’t pick up you can
leave her a message, and she’ll get back with you.”

Now
to get that book,
Addie
thought.

“I
need to talk to someone.” Addie said out loud to the music playing while she
was on hold. Zeus barked, seemingly wanting to know what was going on. “Shh!”
she told him. “I’m waiting. Hopefully I’ll speak to a real person. Not a
voicemail, because I can’t convince a voicemail to send me books. And no one
will send me anything if you’re in the background barking.”

“Kate
Gianopoulos. How may I help you?”

“Ms.
Gianopoulos?”

“Yes.
How may I help you?”

“Uhm,
I was wondering if - - Oh, sorry. My name is Addison Hughes and I’m calling
from Baltimore Maryland.”

“Yes,
Ms. Hughes?”

“I,
well my book club and I, were wondering if we could get pre-release copies of
Ms. Vandiver’s - well, uhm, I guess she’s not using that name now. But copies
of the sequel to
In the Beginning
by Abby L. Vandiver.”

“Oh.
J. E. Dickerson.”

“I’m
sorry J. E.?”

“She’s
using the name J.E. Dickerson for this book.”

“Oh.
Another pen name?”

“No.
That’s her real name. Justin Elizabeth Dickerson. Could you hold on for a
second?”

She
clicked off before Addie could answer. With Kate off the phone, Addie starting
hopping up down and pacing the floor, Zeus at her heels.

I’m
telling Zeus to calm down,
she
thought
. Look at me.
She backed up to the living room wall and took in a
deep breath
.
“Stop stumbling over your words. What kind of sense does
that make? You’re just asking for a book. Calm. Down.”

Addie
heard the phone click. “Ms. Hughes. Are you still there?

“Yes,
I’m here. I - ”

“Yes.
You want pre-release copies of
The Dead Sea Fish
, right?”

“By
J.E. Dickerson?”

“Yes.
The sequel.  Isn’t that what you’re calling about?”

“Yes.
Uhm, I didn’t know the name of it.”

“
The
Dead Sea Fish
,” Kate repeated. Okay. Sure. We can get you some advanced
released copies. What we usually do is send them out to our reviewers or to
book clubs so we can get reviews before the release date, which in this case
will be sometime in November. Are you willing to write a review for the book?”

“Uhm.
Yes. We can do that.”

“Good.
We’ll email you. It’ll be an information sheet for your book club to complete, and
the places to post the reviews. Let me get your email address. I have to grab a
pen, here. Hold on . . . Okay, I’m ready. Go ahead.”

“It’s
the Westbury End Book Club. And my email address is [email protected].”

“Okay.
We’ll get that form right over to you. And, once we get it back, we’ll get you
the books. How many in your book club?”

“Eight.”

“Eight,”
Kate repeated. “Okay, Addie, eight it is.”

“Thank
you so much. We really appreciate it,” Addie said.

“No.
Thank you. We’re happy you’ll help us out. We’d like to get all the publicity
we can before we release. Helps build up sales.”

Addie
hung up the phone, reached down and kissed Zeus on his nose. “Now,” she told
him, rubbing his head. “We’ll know for sure everything that happened to those
men that came from Mars.