The Vilcabamba Prophecy: A Nick Randall Novel (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

In the complete darkness of her bedroom,
archeologist Dr. Samantha Randall slept soundly in her bed. The
stillness was shattered by the ringing of the telephone
.

“What time is it?”
Samantha said groggily.

Searching for her glasses
with one hand, as she fumbled for the phone with the other, Samantha glanced at
the clock, which read 3:12 a.m.

“Who is this?” She asked
in a sleepy voice.

“Samantha, is that you?”

Sam struggled to clear
the cobwebs from her mind. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite
place it.

“Sam, are you there? It’s
Francisco.”

“I’m here. Do you realize
what time it is in my neck of the woods?”

“Sorry to wake you, but I
have some urgent news about your father.”

Sam’s heartbeat
quickened. “What’s going on? Is Dad alright?”

“He’s
disappeared. He was leading an expedition in Peru and was supposed to arrive at
the site today. We’ve been waiting for him to check in with us, but we haven’t
heard from him. In fact, I haven’t spoken with him in over a week. We’ve tried
to contact him several times, but we haven’t had any luck. I’m worried, Sam.
Your father normally checks in like clockwork.”

The
news hit Samantha like a hard slap to the face. Sam and her father had barely
spoken since her mother’s death nearly three years earlier.

“What
can I do?” she said quietly.

“You
understand how your father thinks better than anyone. He left some notes at the
base station, but we’re having a hard time interpreting them. We need you to
fly down here and join a search team to try to find him. We have his starting
point and can put you in contact with someone who can help you retrace his
path.”

Samantha
sat in the darkness of her room, contemplating the situation.

“Sam,
please.”

“I’ll
see what I can do. I have to pack and find a flight. I should be able to catch
a plane by the end of the day.”

“I
booked you on a flight leaving at 6:35 a.m. Time is of the essence; we need to
find them quickly. This jungle can be unforgiving.”

CHAPTER THREE

Randall continued
to decipher the writing on the walls. He had decided to start with the far left
wall and work his way around. The symbols were arranged in neat rows, forming
large pictographs, similar to Egyptian Hieroglyphics. He was amazed by the
discovery of this inner chamber, but had no time to enjoy it.

Minutes
earlier, all activity and sounds had ceased from the outer chamber. Something
had happened that caused their pursuers to stop searching the room for them. As
a result, the inner chamber was cast into an eerie quietness.

The
silence was broken by a high-pitched, static-filled whistling noise coming from
Mike’s belt. His radio was still on.

“The
sound came from this direction,” a voice called out from the outer chamber.
The words were followed by pounding
on the wall separating
the two rooms. Their pursuers had located them.

“Mike,
your radio!” Phil yelled.

Mike
switched it off, but it was too late.

“I
can hear them. Get the C-4.”

Panic
replaced concern as Randall raced to decipher the writing, hearing the
unmistakable sound of several men exiting the outer chamber.

“Dr.
Randall, hurry!” Mike said.

Randall
struggled to interpret the strange writing. He needed more time.

“This
symbol, I can’t figure it out!” He blurted.

Suddenly,
he heard the sound of men entering the outer chamber and placing something
against the wall.

“Everyone
clear out.” The words were followed by the sound of shuffling boots exiting the
other room.

“We
have to do something!” Phil said.

“Wait,”
Randall said. “If I’m right about this, I think we might have a way out of
here!”

Randall
gently pressed against the symbols on the wall. A faint humming sound emanated
from somewhere nearby.

“Did
you
hear …?
” Phil began to say, but before the words
were even out of his mouth, the students and the professor felt the sensation
of weightlessness. In a moment’s time, their lights went out, and they were
engulfed by total darkness.

CHAPTER FOUR

Samantha sat in
the business class section of a Boeing 777 bound for Lima. Her seven-hour
flight would provide her with plenty of time to think about the many events
that had led to this moment and what was to come.

She
could still vividly remember the last conversation she had had with her father
so long ago. She had blamed him for sending her mother to retrieve an artifact
from a colleague, an errand from which she would never return. After learning
of her mother’s death, she had told her father that she never wanted to speak
to him again. He had tried on several occasions to reach her by phone and email
and had even asked friends to try to reason with her on his behalf. She hadn’t
bought any of it. Now, those words spoken to her father nearly three years ago
may have been the last she would say to him. Regret washed over her.

They
had been a close family—Sam, her younger brother, John, and her
parents—but everything changed on that fateful day. Her father was away
on yet another of his expeditions, trying to prove his crazy and controversial
theory that someone, or something, had helped push along the development of
human technology. While he was gone, a colleague had called with important
information about his research. He claimed he had something that Sam’s dad
urgently needed and convinced her mom, Anne, to pick it up for him. Sam
remembered speaking to her on the phone right before she left to get the
package. Anne was irritated that her husband had gone on the expedition right
before their family trip to Italy, but she graciously agreed to pick up his
package.

It
was a wet, spring evening as she drove home on Route 51. The rain had fallen
for days, the roads were slick, and visibility was terrible as wind gusts
carried the rain almost sideways. According to witnesses, a semi had been
attempting to merge onto the ramp, and the driver hadn’t seen her mom’s car.
The large truck had driven her mother’s small sedan off the side of the road,
and the car had flipped several times before bursting into flames. By the time
the EMTs had arrived, there were little more than charred remains.

Sam
had blamed her father for going on the trip and causing her mom to go out in
such terrible weather to get his stupid package. The last time they spoke had
been shortly after the funeral. She had been devastated by the death of her
mother, and her father seemed like a good target for her frustrations.

Sam
knew deep inside that no one was to blame for her mother’s death. It had been
an accident. She also knew that it was the pain of losing her mother that had
caused her anger, but she couldn’t help but blame her father. But now she might
lose him, too. It was too much to take, so Sam did the only thing she could do
at a time like this; she put her analytical mind to work planning a course of
action to find him.

Since
Sam’s silence had made it clear that she would not answer her father’s phone
calls or emails, he had begun writing letters to her to let her know what he
was doing. At first, she refused to open the letters, but with time, she
relented and began reading them. In a small way, knowing what her father was
doing gave her comfort. She had read all of his letters except for the most
recent one, which had sat unopened on her desk. Now, she was on the plane
holding that letter and hoping she could find clues about his disappearance.

February 9, 2012

Hi Sweetheart,

I was really hoping to see you before
I left on this trip.

Our donor wants us to get started as soon as
possible. He didn’t say why he was in such a hurry, but I guess I feel the same
way given what we’re looking for. The elder from the jungle tribe spoke of an
ancient city,
Paititi
, deep in the rainforest where
there is some sort of relic. According to the elder, stories have been passed
down through several generations that this relic was a gift from the gods. If
what the elder has told me is true, it’s the key to proving that something
altered the course of human development.

Sam, I don’t know if I’m just being paranoid, but
I’ve got a funny feeling about this trip. I’ve had the weirdest feeling that
someone is watching
us
as we get ready to go. I don’t
even know who this donor is that’s funding us. When I asked Francisco about him,
he said that the donor wanted to keep his identity a secret, but that he thinks
very highly of me and is very interested in my research. I guess I was so
flattered that I never really questioned why he was so interested. Now I’m
beginning to wonder why he chose me and why he’s in such a hurry.

I wanted you to know that I have a small safety box
at the bank near the airport in Lima with most of my notes and research in it.
You’ll find the key to the safety box in this letter. I haven’t shared this
information with anyone else, and I don’t want you to tell anyone about this,
not even Francisco. You’re the only person I trust.

Well, that’s it for now. I guess the next time I
see you I’ll either be famous or out of work!

Dad

A
lump formed in the pit of Sam’s stomach. Slowly, she lifted the key out of the
envelope. Inscribed on it were the words “
Banco
de la
Nación
.” That’s where her dad’s safety box must be.
She thought it strange that he hadn’t wanted Francisco to know about it. They
had always been so close, and her dad had always said that he trusted him with
his life. Sam squeezed the key,
then
tucked it safely
into a small zippered pocket on her pants. She looked at her watch: 8:27 a.m.
She was exhausted, and the day was just beginning. Closing her eyes, she hoped
she might get some sleep on the rest of the flight.

CHAPTER FIVE

Inside the ruins,
Randall slowly began to move again. He rubbed the back of his head, which ached
terribly. As he did so, he felt a lump the size of a small golf ball. His head
slowly began to clear, and he struggled to make out his surroundings in the
darkness. The last thing he remembered was being in the chamber examining the
symbols, when suddenly everything had gone black. It appeared, now, that the
symbols were buttons, and that he had activated some sort of trap door in the
chamber, but it must have closed, again. Still groggy and unable to see in the
darkness, he heard moaning from nearby.

“Are
you guys alright?” Randall called out.

“I
think so. What the heck happened?” Phil asked, rubbing his bruised body.

“I
think my leg is broken,” Mike said, groaning.

Randall
reached for the flashlight he kept in his zippered pants pocket. Flicking the
switch, it lit up the dark chamber like a searchlight. It didn’t take long for
him to find Phil and Mike. Examining Mike, he noted there were no bones
protruding through the skin, but his leg had a nasty black and blue bump. Mike
was clearly in pain and winced as Randall examined his leg. His heart stopped
as he heard the sound of footsteps on the ceiling above them, followed by the
sound of men talking. One of them seemed to be speaking into a radio, reporting
back to someone about losing track of Randall and his assistants. He also heard
the clicking of metal as someone chambered a round into a weapon. Randall held
his finger to his lips in the glow of the flashlight, letting Phil and Mike
know not to make a sound. Slowly, they heard the footsteps exiting the chamber.

“Come
on, we need to get out of here before they find us,” Randall whispered,
motioning to the chamber above them.
 
He grabbed Mike under one arm and pointed for Phil to do the same on the
other side. As they lifted Mike to his feet, he groaned loudly from the pain.
The sound of the person walking above them stopped immediately. Randall clasped
his hand over Mike’s mouth and the three stood without moving. They remained
frozen, fearful of alerting their pursuer above. Finally they heard the
footsteps leave the upper chamber. The trio moved silently forward, trying to
find a way out.

“Can
we stop for a minute?” Mike grimaced in pain as he spoke. “I don’t think I can
keep going.”

Randall
and Phil gingerly set their friend down on the cold, dusty ground, careful not
to jostle his injured leg.

“Phil,
stay here with Mike. I’m going to look for help or a way out. Do you have any
sort of light?”

Phil
fumbled through his clothing without luck. His flashlight must have fallen out
when they hit the ground under the trap door. Then he felt a heavy rectangular
object in one of his pockets. “I have my phone. Give me a minute, yes, I have
the flashlight app on it.” With a couple touches of the screen, a glowing light
appeared around Phil and Mike’s face.

Randall
handed Phil his backpack. “There’s water and food in here. Mike, I have a
jacket in there, too. Put it on and try to stay warm.”

“What
about you, Professor?” Mike asked in protest.

“Don’t
worry about me, I’ll be fine. Phil, take care of Mike. I’m going for help and
will be back as soon as I can.”