Trees Hold Up the Sky 4 William James Johnson

The flight to Bogota, including a stop over in Florida for refueling, took twelve hours in the noisy flying boxcar. The constant pounding of its twin engines throughout the hollow interior made conversation virtually impossible. Stretched uncomfortably on canvas seats suspended from the port side of the aircraft, the passengers tried to sleep.

It was about 10 P.M. when the chunky machine touched down at Bogota International Airport. Little did they realize that at this same location in 1919, the first commercial airline in the world had landed. They had left snow covered Washington, expecting to enjoy the warmth of the tropics.

"I can't believe how chilly it is," said Laura, stepping off the ladder onto the tarmac.

"That's because we're quite high here. Bogota is almost 9000 feet above sea level. The temperature here seldom goes above 57 degrees Fahrenheit. This region is located on a mountainous plateau. Don't worry though, when we get down to the grasslands, you'll remember how nice this felt," said Newton.

A middle aged man in casual clothing hurried towards them. Highly irritated, he couldn't get to Newton quickly enough. "So sorry to hear about poor Eric. We're all going to miss him."

"I'm going to miss him too," said Newton, shaking hands with his friend. "Laura, Jess, I'd like you to meet our geologist Peter Niles."

After exchanging pleasantries, they climbed into the jeep Peter had parked nearby. Uncertain if he should do so in front of these strangers, Peter wanted to talk to his boss.

"What is it Pete? Something wrong?"

"Is it okay to talk about our project?" asked the geologist.

"Of course. Laura and Jess have joined our party."

"Thank God for that."

"What do you mean?" asked Newton
.
"We're going to need as many people as we can get. Most of our zambos took off when they heard about Eric, and how he died."

"What are zambos?" asked Laura.

"They're half breeds, Negro and Indian. They do most of the carrying down here. Colombia still is primitive when it comes to getting around in the interior. There are some rail lines, but they only link major cities. Most of the people in the country use the rivers for traveling or zambos when going overland."

"Arumba's the one who got them all upset," continued Peter.

"Never trusted that man from the start."

"He told them the ancient gods have killed the white man because he's violating sacred ground in the cave. Arumba is what you might call a medicine man," explained Niles. "If you've got him on your side, he can make your job a lot easier. But let him resort to his magic, and it's almost impossible to get anyone to help you."

"Where did the zambos go?" asked Newton.

"Most of them returned to their villages. Some are back in San Fernando de Atabapo looking for work."

Niles stopped the vehicle outside a stately stucco building, located near the international airport. Surrounded by a tall iron fence, it looked like an embassy or other government office.

"Is this where we clear customs?" asked Jess.

"That won't be necessary. Our Ambassador has already taken care of that," replied Niles. "This is the home of professor Gonzalo de Quesada. He's our professional attaché on Project Atabapo, and the head of anthropology at the University of Bogota. He's been very helpful in giving us back-up research, and cooperation from his government."

"De Quesada? Wasn't that the name of the Spaniard who established Bogota about four hundred years ago?" asked Laura.

"I see you've been doing your homework," said Newton. "Gonzalo is the direct descendant of the founder of Colombia. This location was chosen to be the capital in 1538. He called it the New Kingdom of Granada."

"Not exactly chosen Hank," corrected Niles. "This is what the Spanish got after they defeated the Chibchas."

A handsome Colombian of obvious Spanish descent, in his late fifties, came out to greet his visitors. He kissed Newton on each cheek and held him firmly for a moment.

"My dear friend Henry. I'm so sad for you and your man Mr. Price. What a dreadful end for such a young man."

"Thank you Gonzalo. I appreciate your sympathy. Please let me introduce my associates, Dr. Laura Mason, and Dr. Jesse Martin. Laura, and Jess, this is my dear friend professor Gonzalo de Quesada."

"I am honoured. Please come in and meet my wife." He took them through a small courtyard into the side entrance of a grand living room. There was a huge log burning in the walk-in-fireplace, with crossed sabers above the mantle, and a shield with a family crest. Glazed earthen tiles in irregular shapes met the spotless white stucco walls that rose to high beamed ceilings. A stunning woman in her early fifties came into the large room. Wearing a peasant print skirt, and white blouse, with a dark mantilla over her shoulders, she smiled warmly, waiting for her husband to do the honours.

"My wife Theresita."

Hank took her hand and kissed it, and introduced his companions. Theresita excused herself and went to prepare their dinner.

"Peter tells me you've lost your zambos," said Gonzalo.

"That's right. I don't know what we're going to do."

"Now settled in San Fernando, you will not need so many zambos."

"I'm not so sure Gonzalo. There have been some changes since Eric died. We're going to need the zambos to help us with the new equipment we've brought with us, heavy equipment needed to record the symbols and reduce the time anyone would have to spend inside the cave."

"What kind of equipment?"

"Portable video equipment. We can operate it off batteries, or our small generators."

"Sounds very expensive."

"It's not cheap. So you see we'll need bearers to get the gear into the area."

"Bearers? That sounds pretty primitive Hank. What about chartering a helicopter?" asked Jess.

"We've thought of that before, but the brush is so dense, there's no place to land."

"Then we'll make a place."

"Pardon me Doctor," said Gonzalo, "Obviously you have had little experience with our famous rain forests."

"He's right," said Peter. "When someone tells you it's dense, they really mean you can't even move on foot until you cut yourself a path. And when the rainy season hits, even the path is good for only a week to ten days."

"So how much time have we before your rainy season?"

"Middle of March it begins, and does not let up until May," replied Gonzalo.

"That only gives us about four weeks to get to the cave and get our work done. What about it Hank? Think we can pull it off before the rains hit?" asked Jess.

"Certainly not if we have to use the river route and steamboat to get to San Fernando. It's over 700 hundred miles. We'd be lucky if we could do 50 miles a day. I'm afraid we're going to be right in the heaviest of the rainy season by the time we trek south to the cave."

"So how were you planning to get the new equipment in?"

"As we did in the past. Get ourselves some zambos to carry it."

"Without Arumba, I'm not sure we'll be able to recruit any other zambos," said Niles.

Gonzalo listened to the two men trying to resolve their problem. He obviously had been giving it much thought himself.

"Forget them. I have what I think will be a better solution then using zambos. Many of my students are mestizo, half White and half Indian. They are Christian young people, Catholics, who have a different set of superstitions. Lucky for us, they are not controlled by a witch doctor," said Gonzalo.

"That'll cost us a pile of money," said Newton. "We're operating on a tight budget as it is. There's not much left in the pot after we got this latest equipment."

"No my friend. It will not cost you anything. In fact, if you approve, I will have them put money into the pot."

"How do you expect to do that?"

"Many of these students come from wealthy families. I will tell them that this field training is part of the necessary requirements to earn their degrees. They must help out where they can, and be responsible for their own living expenses. And on top of that, the field experience will cost them a certain fee."

"Not a bad idea professor," said Jess. "I'd be a bit concerned that if they were paying us instead of we paying them, they could quit if the going got rough, and we'd be no better than we are now."

"That would be the case if they were anywhere near civilization Doctor, but where you will be going, it might as well be on another planet. There'll be no running out on you once you leave San Fernando."

"I say we give it a try," said Newton.

"Are we talking only about young men professor," asked Laura. Jess wondered what she meant about that after what Frum had told him about her sexual peccadilloes on her Kargil expedition.

"No senorita. We will include some of my lovely young women students as well. We have to motivate the men some how."

They all smiled at Gonzalo's attempt at humour. As Jess listened, he became more uncertain. If the risks were as dangerous as he had been told, he felt they would be better off facing them with a few professional trekkers, rather than a co-ed group of young students on a jungle outing. He didn't get the chance to express his doubts. Supper was ready.

It was almost 2 a.m. when they went to their rooms. Gonzalo had convinced them his plan would work. Jess reconsidered his helicopter proposal, modifying it. He wanted the ground party to proceed to the site and once there, contact the base unit at San Fernando, and have a helicopter, using a winch, lower the necessary equipment, without having to land. Newton preferred Gonzalo's plan because there was less risk the new recording equipment would be damaged.

Before going into his bedroom, Jess asked Hank to join him for a few minutes. Laura said goodnight.

"What's the problem Jess?"

"Something here isn't right."

"Oh! And what could that be?"

"Didn't you and Joe tell me this project was classified Top Secret?"

"Yes, and it still is."

"Then why the hell are we letting these outsiders in on it?"

"They're not really outsiders Jess. This is their country after all."

"Look Hank, I'm not trying to make waves. If we were going to rely on zambos, I wouldn't mind. But this guy is going to hand pick his brightest students to come with us. What's to say he isn't setting us up?"

"Oh come on Jess. I hope you never talk like this to anyone else. We need Gonzalo and his government if we're going to be successful. Do me a favour and forget we ever had this talk."

"Okay Hank. You're calling the shots. I just hope to hell we don't do all the work, and they get all the credit."

"Trust me. Gonzalo is too professional to do something like that behind our back. He only wants to help us, and from what Peter says, we're damn lucky if you ask me."

Jess felt a little sheepish. He was sorry now he had brought it up. "I'm whipped. Maybe what I really need is a good night's sleep."

"It's been a long day for all of us Jess. Goodnight."

He went into his bathroom and looked in the mirror. When he was tired like this, he looked like he was sixty. He opened the shower curtain, then changed his mind. He didn't want anything to get in the way of his total fatigue. Turning out the lights he went to the shuttered windows and opened them, feeling the mountain air coursing over his bare chest.

Suddenly the dark courtyard was illuminated by the lights of a dark Mercedes. He wasn't sure, but it looked like Gonzalo in the driver's seat. The iron gates opened when he pressed a device in the car, and closed as he left. Jess watched him take the airport road, heading for town.

"Jesus...why did I have to see that? Now I'm really going to have a helluva time getting to sleep." He wasn't aware just how tired he was. When his head hit the pillow, he was out.

Gonzalo drove across the stone pavement of Simon Bolivar Plaza and parked in front of the ancient walls of the Antiquities Museum. Hurrying up the marble steps, his shoes clattered loudly in the morning air. The city was asleep. Using a pass key, he swung open the heavy museum door, and locked it behind him. Again his staccato tapping on the marble floor echoed as he walked the length of the main gallery to an office at the top of a winding staircase. Opening the door, the pungent odour of a cigar seeped into the hall.

"Well my friend. How did it go?" Secretary of the Interior, Fernandez Obispo sat at a large, ornate desk, a file cover in front of him.

"Better than I had expected Mr. Secretary."

"Please Gonzalo, sit down. Would you like a cigar?"

"Thank you sir. No. I have given up smoking. Doctor's orders."

"What do doctors know? Do you mind me smoking?"

"Not at all sir. Please do not let me interfere with your habit."

The younger man laughed at his remark. "You need not worry professor. Nothing and no one interferes with my habits. Now if you would, please tell me everything."

"Your plan to scare off the zambos worked. Niles is a weak man and his weakness has infected their leader Newton."

"So without zambos they must accept your proposal."

"Our proposal Mr. Secretary."

"Yes...you're right. We did think of it together."

"So tomorrow, or should I say today, I will go over my files and pick only the best mestizo students to go with them."

"These students you choose, they must be sworn to secrecy. And it is up to you to make sure they understand they may be ordered to kill if their government thinks it is necessary, do I make myself clear?"

"Completely Sir."

"These Americans will not rob us of our national treasures this time. When they have done the work, we will collect the reward. You, my friend, will become a national hero."

"But I am not going with them."

"I know that. But be assured Gonzalo, I will let our countrymen know that this was your great discovery. You were the one who came to me and told me about the cave. If you had not, these foreigners would rape us like they are doing in the Amazon Basin. It is men like you my friend who help us to hold up the sky. I'm not looking for any glory for myself. I want only to protect what is rightfully ours."

"I have another request Mr. Secretary, if I may."

"I'm listening."

"We could speed up everything if you could get the Transport Minister to offer to fly everyone to San Fernando instead of taking weeks by boat. This would convince them I'm sure, that they have the full support of our government."

"I'll get you an aircraft. You are truly a national hero Gonzalo. Now you better return before anyone gets suspicious. I will let you know about the plane later today. If you do not hear from me by four o'clock this afternoon, call my office. I will leave the details with my aide."

"Thank you Mr. Secretary. You have no idea how wonderful it feels to know I can still serve my country."
"And believe me professor , your country is proud of you."

Trees Hold Up the Sky 3 William James Johnson

Jess Martin slowed his Volvo wagon as he approached the entrance to Andrew's Air Force Base. Martha was taken by surprise. He had not mentioned his assignment had a military connection.

"Andrew's...? Thought you'd be leaving from Dulles."

"Some other people are returning to Bogota on a dig and a pile of equipment is being sent with them. They're using one of those C119 flying boxcars. Not exactly first class."

"Never can understand the government. Spends money like a drunken sailor on defense contracts, and still expects its personnel to pinch pennies."

"Guess this was the most convenient way of getting me south, and save money at the same time."

His answer was about as convincing as the reason he had given her for his new assignment. She sat quietly while Jess showed his identification at the entrance and watched the young marine raise the barrier and salute smartly.

"Is there something you're not telling me Jess?"

He knew she hadn't bought his excuse about the language professor. She had a precise sense of timing when she wanted to get something out of him.

"Never could slip anything past you."

"Well...I'm waiting. There is more to it, isn't there?"

"I told you I might be a week but honestly it could be much longer. I just didn't want you to worry that's all."

"And the professor you're supposed to be meeting, is that really a part of this?"

"I'd like to tell you more, but I was only told enough to convince me I was needed. Please don't keep pressing. It's classified information and I'd be violating the official secrets act if I even hinted at what's going on. All I can say is that it's nothing for you to worry about."

"You're the one who should be worrying."

"Me...? What's that supposed to mean?"

"My friend Karen Dixon is nursing at Bethesda in the toxic chemical ward, and she told me a horrible story when I told her about you going to Colombia."

"What's that got to do with me?"

"Apparently some young photographer who was in Colombia with Henry Newton was brought in a week ago with a dreadful disease. He died yesterday. It's all hush hush. I just thought you should know."

Jess struggled to maintain his composure. Remembering how Frum and Newton had tried to keep some of the details from him at the briefing, he wondered now what other secrets were being withheld.

"I think your friend Karen is no friend at all. Not if she's going to tell you scare stories just when I'm leaving."

"She's got no reason to lie Jess. She said the young guy fell apart in only a week. Something to do with radiation. I'm only telling you what she told me."

"I know Marty. I know. You're just trying to be helpful. If it was radiation, he would've been brought to Dr. Khan. He's the best."

"That's who looked after him. He's that specialist from Pakistan isn't he?"

The more details she gave him, the more Jess felt betrayed. There had to be a good reason for them withholding this information. Surely Joe Frum wouldn't risk his neck without giving him the chance to refuse.

He parked his car and went to the back to get his suitcase. Through the terminal window he spotted Frum and Newton talking to Laura. His heart was pounding after what Martha had told him, and now on top of that, he might have to explain about Laura.

"You don't have to wait if you don't want to."

Martha looked at the people in the terminal, trying to identify them through the glare on the window. She knew most of the scientists who associated with Jess.

"Isn't that Joe?"

"Where?"

"By the entrance, talking to...I think its Henry Newton. I'm not sure. I've only seen pictures of him"

Jess looked casually towards the window. "Looks like him. Yes that's Joe."

"And isn't that Laura Mason with them?"

Jess looked again. He hated playing games like this. Lying was not his thing. People liked him because of his down to earth honesty.

"Right again darling." He took a quick look at his watch. "Gotta go. Keep the faith while I'm gone. Love you."

As she kissed him goodbye, she pushed him away slightly and studied his face carefully. "Ask Dr. Newton about that man with the dreadful disease. Karen said he was there when the young man died. I'm sure he knows all about it."

"If I do sweetie, he's going to know someone has talked and your girl friend Karen what's-her-name is going to lose her job."

"You're probably right. But I'm worried Jess."

"Then don't be. I know how to take care of myself."

"I just want you back safe and sound. Is that asking too much?"

Her voice broke. Jess saw a touch of wetness coating her lovely blue eyes. Martha Martin was a very attractive woman whose modeling career terminated early because of alcoholism, a result of a cruel first marriage. She had met Jess at AA, and together they had fought back to respectability.

"You've always given more than you take Marty. That's why I love you so much. Believe me darling I'll take real good care of myself. You do the same." Jess felt her fear, and wanted to help her, but he knew anymore comments would only increase her anxiety. She kissed him quickly almost pushing him towards the terminal. Entering the building, he looked back and waived as she pulled out of the parking area.

"Martha not coming in?" asked Frum.

"Not this time." There was a hollowness in his reply which Joe picked up immediately. Jess was the kind of person who telegraphed his emotions.

"What's the problem Jess?"

"No problem."

Laura left Newton and came over to him. She was wearing a beige safari outfit, complete with an off white pith helmet.

"You're looking real smart Miss Mason," said Jess, trying to get his spirits in tune with the others.

"Thank you Dr. Martin. So do you."

Hank Newton joined the others. "Can I see you for a moment Jess, if you don't mind." They moved several feet away from the others where they could not be overheard.

"Jess, I've got something to tell you before we leave."

"Oh. What's that?"

"Yesterday we lost one of our party at Bethesda, a young photographer."

"Go on."

"Eric Price died of radiation poisoning, acquired in the cave we discovered."

"What?"

"I didn't tell you before, because I wasn't sure myself. It's a terrible way to die. I couldn't in good conscience ask you to go on this trip without telling you about this new risk."

As much as his revelation confirmed Martha's story, and he should reconsider his decision to go, Jess felt relieved that Newton was telling him the truth. "Knowing the risk, you're still going aren't you?" asked Jess.

"Yes. Dr. Khan has given us special suits to protect us from whatever it was that killed Eric. I'm returning, because Eric begged me to continue with the work. In fact it was his dying wish, and even though I didn't make any deathbed promise, I think he was right."

"Does Joe know about it?"

"I told him last night. I've had a helluva time making up my mind. But like I said, I know Eric was right. We must find a way to do the work without risking anyone else."

"And Laura...what does she say about it?"

"I'm leaving that up to you. You were the one who wanted her to come. If you both decide to back out, I would understand. We'll make use of your talents some other way if we have to."

"This is a helluva bind you've put me in. What would you do if you were me Hank?"

"I'm not you. But knowing the sort of guy you've been in the past, I would go. I would go because my curiosity has been so aroused. As for me, there is no other choice."

"Is there anything else I should know about this mission, before I give you my decision?"

"You now know as much as the rest of us. I really hope you will come with us Jess, but as I've already said, if you decide not to, I can live with that."

"Let's hope we can all live with it. Thanks for telling me Hank. I'll have a talk with Laura now."

Walking back to the others, Jess felt more relieved than when he had entered the terminal. A known hazard is always easier to deal with than an unknown hazard.

"Laura, can we talk for a few minutes."

"Of course Jess. What's up?" He took her by the arm and returned to the area where he and Hank had spoken. "Something wrong?"

"Could be. I've just learned that one of Newton's party died yesterday in Bethesda."

"Oh. That's terrible. I'm really sorry."

"The poor bastard died of radiation poisoning."

"What do you mean? Where would he be exposed to radiation?"

"Apparently in that cave we're going to study."

"Oh God Jess. What should we do?"

"Hank tells me that now that they know the problem, they're going to wear special suits for protection. He still wants to go ahead with the trip, but our decision to join him is being left entirely with us."

"What are you going to do?"

"I've got to go Laura. There's no way I want to miss out on such a tremendous discovery."

"Even at the risk to your own life?"

"We'll do whatever we can to minimize the risk, but there's no way we can eliminate it entirely. So what about it? You can stay here in Washington and supervise the data I send on to you, or you can come with us and pray like hell, we come out of this thing unhurt."

"Since you came by and told me about this expedition, that's all I've been able to think of. And if you tell me these precautions will get us through this thing, I'm willing to risk it with you. Of course I'll go." With her answer, she impulsively threw her arms around his shoulders. Hugging her warmly, he felt her firm breasts pressing against the pockets of her safari jacket. She let the full length of her taut body confirm she enjoyed his intimacy.

"Wow. That's great news. Let's tell Hank and the others." Watching their warm embrace, the others already knew what the answer was before they returned. "It's all systems go Hank. Laura and I still want to be in on this great party."

"Marvelous. You couldn't make me happier."

Joe Frum stood apart from the others with a wry smile on his face. Jess went over to his old teacher.

"So what do you think Joe?"

"I think radiation is going to be the least of your problems."

"Oh...getting cryptic in your old age?"

"Sure wish I was going with you. With a honey like that, I'd like to give you a run for your money."

Well well. Not exactly the kind of scientific observation I would have expected from a senior professor of anthropology."

"It's an accurate observation nevertheless. Watch closely Jess. I sense a bit of piranha in that wench. Like, I mean voracious."

"Is there something you're trying to tell me about sweet Laura that I may have missed?"

"From what I've heard, she'll screw a pile of rocks if she thinks there's a snake in it."

Jess was shocked by Frum's characterization of Laura. He hadn't seen this side of Joe before. But then, he knew very little about the sexual life of Laura Mason except that her husband left her for the love of a man.

"Knock it off Joe. I don't think it's fair you're talking like this behind her back."

"Just be careful Jess. Don't end up a shrunken head on her new safari belt that's all."

Joe's relentless degrading of Laura created doubts in Jess, and as much as he preferred to drop the discussion, his own prurience made him pursue it. "Have you any real evidence, or is this just sour grapes hearsay?"

"I'll give you only one example because I owe you that at least."

"I'm listening."

"Did you get a chance to take a look at some of the expenditures on her Kargil trip?"

"Not particularly. Why?"

"If you had looked very closely, you would see that the liability policy of Roosevelt College paid a sum of money to the family of one of the Sherpa's who died on the expedition."

"I noticed that. What was so strange about that?"

"I looked into his death and although they were reluctant to come forward and talk, two of the men on that trip said the poor sonofabitch was screwed to death by sex starved Laura at the fourteen thousand foot level."

Their colorful conversation was interrupted as Laura came towards them. Jess didn't get the chance to ask Joe any more questions. He couldn't take his eyes off this stunning creature who would be spending several weeks with him in the steamy jungles of southeast Colombia.

"I hope I'm not intruding."

"Not at all Laura. I've just been giving Jess a few last minute instructions about the hazards of this trip. He'll probably brief you about it on your flight."

"Hank asked me to tell you, they're ready to load now. Goodbye Joe. I hope we can send some exciting information back for you."

"I'm sure you will. Godspeed you two. Take care of each other."

"That's a promise," said Laura, smiling at Jess.

"You heard the lady. Bye Joe. And from time to time, please give Marty a call. I'd appreciate it."

"Consider it done."

Joe Frum watched them climb the metal ladder into the cargo bay of the C119. He had mixed feelings about it. Now in his late sixties, he hadn't gone on field work for quite some time, but this time, the risk was greater than he had ever experienced during his career. He only hoped they would all make it safely back to their ivory towers, where they could devote the rest of their lives interpreting their findings, without any more danger.

Trees Hold Up the Sky 2 by William James Johnson

Hank Newton parked in the visitor section at Bethesda Military Hospital and walked quickly to the security guard at the entrance. His identity card was checked and a visitor's pass in plastic was pinned on his lapel.

"Have a nice day Doctor."

"Thanks. You too."

The reception area was half way down a long corridor. The most significant difference between this hospital and most others was the unmistakable sense of security. Young marines in sparkling white webbing prided themselves on being selected for this unique duty. This was the place the highest government leaders were given their medical care, including the President himself.

He stopped at the information desk and waited patiently while a young clerk finished her telephone conversation. Obviously a good friend was on the other end from the smiles and banter that ensued.

"Pardon me young lady..."

"I'll be right with you sir...Do you mind?" she said sarcastically.

He waited for a few more minutes, feeling the back of his neck getting warm. "Really miss...I'm in a hurry."

"I've gotta go. Some guy here's about to have a bird."

"Where can I find Doctor Ama Kahn?"

"Is he that Indian Doctor?"

"Pakistani."

"Follow the red line on the wall to radiology. It's quite a long walk."

"Thank you."

"Sorry I was so rude then."

He looked back over his shoulder. "No problem."

She smiled at his reply. "Hey. Real cool."

He wondered what real cool meant. He had been away a long time. His most up to date expression was, "right on".

Heavy metal doors with observation ports were emblazoned with the radioactive symbol commonly associated with nuclear power stations. He looked in and saw a middle aged technician loading x-ray canisters. The door was locked. Pressing a small button he could hear a faint buzzing through the metal and the attendant looked up, and came towards him.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes. I'm looking for Doctor Khan."

"He's in the lab at the moment. If you'd like to take a seat, I'll tell him you're waiting. Who shall I say wishes to see him?"

"Hank Newton...Doctor Newton."

"Thank you Doctor. I'll only be a few minutes."

Sitting alone in the tiny reception area he browsed through some of the outdated journals on a side table. The insipid green of the walls gave an unpleasant aura to the room. Contrasting with the bleakness were the bright yellow letters warning of hazardous material beyond the door to the lab.

About ten minutes later the door opened and a short man with shiny black hair and sparkling white teeth which glowed in his brownish face extended both his arms.

"Henry...How nice of you to come so quickly."

"Your call sounded desperate."

"It is desperate Henry. I'm afraid your man's not going to make it."

Eric Price was the real reason Hank Newton had returned to Washington. The official photographer of the expedition had suddenly become very sick while working on the cave paintings. In the beginning, everyone thought he had a touch of Montezuma's revenge, but his vomiting started containing particles of blood, then out and out hemorrhaging which could only be brought under control by using very powerful drugs.

"Your Mr. Price is dying from advanced radio active poisoning."

"My God. There were others in the cave too. Myself included."

"But you said Mr. Price spent long hours exposed to the paintings on the cave walls."

"That's true. Eric is a real slave to his work. I tried to get him to take a break, but he wouldn't. For some reason or other all his film was damaged. At first we thought it was the jungle humidity which caused it. Eric wouldn't quit trying. He even sent for fresh film. But no use. That's why he spent such long hours in the cave. He was determined to solve the problem."

"Well I'm sure you have guessed the answer yourself by now."

"The radiation in the cave was ruining the film."

"Just like the security radar in air terminals can affect your film when you're traveling. Only this is extreme radiation. I don't know what it is, but it's more devastating than we've encountered in this department."

"So what do you think we should do?"

"I knew that would be your first question. Frankly Henry, I don't know what to say."

"What would you do if you were in my place?"

"Having seen what has happened to Mr. Price, I'd have to think very carefully about sending anyone into that cave. But then I'm not considering what this discovery may mean to mankind. I'm only concerned about the lives of those who are at risk."

"If we exposed ourselves in small doses, can we reduce the risk?"

"Theoretically that's how it's supposed to work. But I don't know what the radiation source is. You're going to have to solve this one on your own."

"Can I see Eric now?"

"Of course, but you better put on a pair of our protective coveralls first."

"Does he know his condition?"

"Yes. I explained everything I could. He's a very courageous person."

"Courageous...?"

"Most men would be content to die peacefully, but he demanded he be given a chance to talk to you before he loses consciousness."

"How much time does he have?"

"A couple of days...or just hours. It's hard to say. Really Henry, his desire to see you may be the only thing that's keeping him alive."

Hank Newton went into a small cubicle and removed his suit. He had to squeeze his middle age paunch into the special radiation protection gear. Velcro tabs closed up the openings around his wrists and ankles. He pulled a transparent hood over his head and fastened it to the chest tabs of his suit.

"Okay Ama. I'm ready."

He followed the radiologist down a narrow corridor to Eric's austere room. A curtain had been pulled around his bed. Ama pulled back the curtain and the shock of seeing the emaciated face of his associate startled Newton.

"My God. Eric!"

The sound of his voice brought the patient back to consciousness.

"Is that you Hank?"

"Yes Eric. I'm so sorry."

His eyes protruded beyond their lids, sitting like two miniature globes, fixed in tiny caves above his angular cheeks. All that remained of his eyebrows, hair and luxuriant beard were stringy clumps of dead tissue. He had lost massive amounts of muscle in the brief time since returning, and his ill fitting flesh revealed the bones of his arms and fingers.

"I don't have much time Hank."

"Just rest Eric. You've done all you could."

"Don't let them cancel the expedition because of me. It's too important. If you quit, my sacrifice will be in vain."

"I can't risk losing anymore staff. Their lives are more important than trying to understand ancient symbols."

"But there are other ways. Dr. Kahn told me that if I had worn protective equipment like you have on, nothing would have happened."

"We'll see Eric. I've got to tell the others the truth. I can't order any of them to risk their lives."

"Listen to me. Please listen. I know now why the film didn't work, and I've thought of another way of doing it. I figured if you used a portable colour TV camera, you could put all the paintings on tape and get the job done much faster."

Dr. Kahn questioned Eric's suggestion.

"It depends on the type of radiation being emitted. If it is in the magnetic spectrum, it could result in the same thing you had with the film."

Eric would not give up trying to convince Newton to continue with the project.

"Then get some artists in protective clothing to draw the symbols. There's got to be a way."

His straining made him start coughing uncontrollably, followed by retching as chunks of blood seeped out of his mouth soiling the sheets a crimson red.

"We should let you rest Eric. Your internal organs are disintegrating," said Khan.

Eric grabbed Hank by the wrist and tried desperately to focus his tortured eyes.

"Don't give up Hank. For me. For all men. Don't give up."

He released his grip and his jaw fell open, a steady red stream oozing out of his gaping mouth. Dr. Kahn pulled the sheet over his face and the pattern of Eric's skull was slowly etched in his own blood.

"His desire to speak with you must've been the only thing keeping him alive. I'm sorry Henry."

"Poor Eric. What will the others say?"

"You mustn't tell them."

"Why not?"

"If they know he has died, they will probably want to pay their last respects, and it's not possible."

"I don't understand."

"His body will have to be cremated in a special furnace we use for radio active substances. If you tell the others how he died, you may have no choice but give up the project. You heard him. He begged you to continue."

"But how am I going to continue. I have no idea what I must do."

"Don't try to do it alone. I'll supply you with a few anti-radiation suits. When you return, discuss it with your fellow scientists."

"What will I tell them about Eric?"

"Infectious hepatitis. That's why no one was allowed to see him."

"Hemorrhaging can occur with hepatitis?"

"Yes it can. Believe me Henry, Eric was right. Don't be too hasty to quit. Your discovery could change the world. You have to try again."

Hank knew Khan was right. He thanked him for his help and returned to Frum and told him the whole story. Everyone in the profession looked up to Joe for leadership.

"I agree with Ama. You've got to go on."

"Even though others may die?"

"That's what life is all about Hank. Fellows like us live on the edge. Who's to say Eric would not have gotten hepatitis in the jungle, or malaria, or whatever else breeds down there, given enough time. In many ways, Eric's death is a warning to you and your staff, all of whom could have faced the same gruesome end if you had not had Ama's help. If these symbols are a message from the past, we cannot ignore them. You've got to continue with the Atabapo Project."

"And Jess and Laura. Is it fair to bring them there without telling them about Eric, and the risk they'll be taking?"

"Risk is Jess Martin's life blood. And as for Laura, she trekked with Sherpa's in the mountains of Kashmir for seven months. Believe me Hank. These are the best. And when the time is right, you can tell them about Eric."

"You make it all sound so reasonable."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to underplay the danger. You've got a helluva job ahead of you. But at least you're going into it with some idea of the risk involved."

"Thanks Joe. I'm going home to sleep on it. Thanks again. Sometimes you must get fed up with me crying on your shoulders all the time."

"That's what senior professors are for. You'll make it. I know you will."

Trees Hold Up the Sky 1 William James Johnson

Impossible to explain to someone who has no faith, innocent natives of the Amazon rain forest believe their life source comes from the dense forest canopy, and are terrified their sky will fall if the bulldozers continue ravaging the giant trees.

Capitalists, with their powerful machines grind onward, devastating 30,000 acres a day. Worshiping the God of progress, they wreak havoc on the underdeveloped countries, despoiling them like they have done in their own land, where their spewed poisons in the air and water, silently mutate future generations. Not only will the annihilation of this hemisphere's organic purifier end these primitive lives, but unable to renew itself, the resulting toxic atmosphere will eventually destroy the garbage maker.

Nature is the only truth. Contravene its laws and it is unforgiving.
_________________________________
Jess Martin hurried up the steps to the office in the tower at North Western University. Although his own work was only an hour away at Roosevelt College in Farnwell, he had not been back to his alma mater since the reunion ten years ago. Now a world figure on the scientific stage, he still took on assignments with the zest of a child beginning a new adventure. His old mentor, Dr. Joe Frum had sent for him, and as far as Jess was concerned, a request from Joe, was like an order from anyone else.

"Come in Jess. You know Professor Newton?" Jess Martin extended his hand.

"Never had the pleasure Professor, but I feel like I've known you for years."

"Oh! How's that?"

"Your adventures...All those reports in the Journals. That's exciting stuff. I try to read everything I can get on you."

"That's flattering Doctor. I've kept pretty close tabs on your work too. Not many men have had the skill to interpret the symbols of past civilizations like you." Frum smiled as they seemed to ignore him.

"Don't mind me," said Frum.

Doctor Joseph Frum was commissioned by the Inter-American Affairs Department to coordinate the archaeological discovery made by Newton and his staff in the Colombian grasslands near San Fernando de Atabapo. The Altamira cave paintings in northern Spain, were insignificant compared to the massive pictorial graphics found inside the Columbian mountain. Eager to capitalize on this historic find, the cultural minister in Bogota promised his government's support in analyzing the mural.

Aware of his life time commitment in his search for origins, world renown Jess Martin was Joe Frum's prime candidate to study these ancient hieroglyphics.

"Sorry Joe. It's just that I'm a fan of Doctor Newton and his South American adventures, and meeting him like this, is a real treat."

"I'm only kidding. I'm delighted seeing you two hit it off so well."

"When you called, it sounded pretty important."

"Anything that can help us better understand our roots is important," said Frum.

"Then you're going to like my latest project," said Jess.

"What's that Doctor?" asked Newton.

"Please...call me Jess."
"Okay...and Hank suits me fine. Now what's this thing you're working on?"

"We're studying the tablets which were brought back from Kargil. At first we thought they were primitive prayer tablets, but it's beginning to look more like they may be a link with a super intelligent race that existed over five thousand years ago."

"Kargil is in Kashmir isn't it?"

"That's right. Our party had to use Sherpas to get there. It's been a long haul."

"Well I'd like to hear more about these tablets, but that will have to wait," said Newton.

"Hank's party has made a very important discovery in Colombia," said Frum.

"Don't tell me you're going to say you found tablets too."

"Better than that. We've discovered the opening to a vast cave, large enough to accommodate a sizable population."

"The legendary cave of the Aztecs?" asked Jess. "The one where 17,000 natives disappeared during the Spanish conquest?"

"That's what we think. Only our cave goes back much further in time."

"Oh! How much further?"

"Carbon dating places the pigment used in the cave paintings at over 500,000 years ago."

"What! Half a million years?"

"That's right. It has several symbols carved right into the surface of the walls, some in bright colours, others mere scratches in organized patterns, much like the carvings at Karnak."

"And they've lasted all this time?"

"The cave apparently protected the symbols from the elements."

"As you know Jess," said Frum, "we're all worried about the massive development going on now in the Amazon region. Heavy machinery is tearing up thousands of acres a day, with no concern about the devastation to the native population, or the archaeological possibilities. Hank and his party have spent several years in Colombia, trying to locate this ancient civilization rumored in legend to have been cave dwellers. They've been trying desperately to explore this area before so called progress destroys everything.

"You can understand how we all felt when his coded message came. I was given the message to decipher, and when I learned the first word of the message was 'cave', you have no idea what a rush it gave me. Then when it said it was enormous, filled with artifacts and symbols, I knew my fondest prayer had been answered."

Jess Martin was excited about the news, but puzzled he had not heard of it before this. "I'm surprised the media hasn't gotten a hold of the story."

"We aren't ready to let it out."

"How come? It seems in the past, events like this were deliberately leaked to the press to get an increase in grants. With this present administration, I'm surprised you haven't been on every talk show in the country."

"We've got to keep the lid on Jess until you can give us some idea what all those symbols mean," said Hank.

"What are they? Pictures? Shapes?"

"I'm no expert in symbology, but what I have read about your work, I'm quite certain, the symbols are a map of some kind, which could lead us to even greater discoveries."

"Why a map?"

"Some of the shapes on the walls relate to the exterior terrain, up to a hundred miles away. We have a geologist in our party, and he's done extensive traveling to coordinate our discovery with known landmarks. Do you realize this is the oldest form of communication ever discovered on earth? If you can break the code, we'll have a better idea of our origins."

"And isn't that what this is all about?" asked Frum.

"Bring any pictures with you?"

"I was going to, but Joe felt that if I whetted your appetite, you'd be more likely to join our party. With pictures, there was the chance you would remain here and do your study of the symbols out of context."

"Possibly. But then I would have my computer to assist me in the imaging. I'm surprised you haven't any pictures. Don't get me wrong. I'm not criticizing you. I'd have done the same thing. It'll be a few months before I can get away. I've still got plenty of work to do on those prayer tablets."

"Washington has already given you clearance to go with Hank. The tablets will have to wait until your return."

Jess sensed he was not being given the whole story. This sixth sense was probably why he was so adept at breaking codes.

"Okay fellows. What is it you're not telling me?"

"What do you mean?" asked Hank.

"There's more to this than studying some marks on a cave. What's it all about?"

"I told you he'd sense we were holding back," said Joe.

"Then who is going to own up?"

"I will," said Hank. "I was afraid if I told you what I had calculated from the symbols, you might not take on this assignment."

"So. Let's hear it. You owe me that at least."

"As I said Jess, I'm no expert. But I think the symbols were put there by aliens."

"As in people from another country?"

"As in people from another planet."

"Another what?"

"Planet," repeated Joe. "That's why we're reluctant to speculate."

"You're saying space creatures put those marks on the cave walls?"

"Like I said I'm no expert."

"Then why are you speculating like this?"

"Whoever did this, knows the mathematical relationships of Pi, the Einstein theory of relativity, and a formula which connects all the energy theories into a unified force."

"You sure this isn't some kind of hoax to discredit your discoveries?"

"I've only scratched the surface. I haven't even told you about a formula which seems to make use of the earth's magnetic field for space propulsion. The government has classified this project Top Secret."

"Leave it to the bureaucrats."

"You can't blame them. If word got out, the whole area would be swamped with scientists from all over the world. We don't want a mess like what happened in the Antarctic. Besides like I said before, we really don't know what it all means, and may never know the whole truth. We need you there, and we need you now."

"Why is the government interested?"

"If these formulas will help us gain a better understanding of space travel, they want to have first claim on them."

"The government is calling this the Atabapo Project," said Joe. "The main base is in San Fernando de Atabapo."

"Okay. Let's be realistic. Let's say I agree to go. How much time do I have to prepare?"

"Yesterday would have been fine. It really is that urgent. But as you say. Let's be realistic. I know it's going to press you, but I'd be awful pleased if you could be ready to leave with me on Monday."

"Monday! That's only five days"

"You've got to make it Jess. It'll sure make everything a lot easier."

"Okay. I'll give it my best shot."

"And I've got to stress how important it is you don't discuss anything about today's meeting. Not even with your wife."

"Oh great...I'm leaving for South America in five days and I can't explain anything. Martha isn't going to take too kindly to that. That's how I lost my first wife."

"Tell her you've been asked by the government to negotiate a University swap with the languages department in Bogota. You can say you had to go on little notice because there is a Professor we wish to get here in America before some other country gets him."

"You don't know Martha."

"Joe's right Jess. Even Martha has to be kept out of the picture."

"And when I don't return in a week, then what?"

"I'll explain you've been sent on a special government mission to work on codes. You've done this before. She'll understand."

"Oh yeah...of course. University wives always do."

"Don't worry about clothing. We've got everything you'll need when you get there."

"How about a computer?"

"Got the latest IBM."

"Equipped with a modem so I can keep in touch with my staff back here."

"All of it. Carte blanche. You need any of your staff, we can arrange for that too."

"Just one. Laura Mason."

"She's the one who led that expedition to Kargil," added Frum.

"That's the one. Brilliant woman."

"Damn fine looking too if I remember correctly."

"Well, I'm sure not going to hold that against her," said Jess, smiling.

"This woman, Laura Mason. Married or single?" asked Newton.

"Recently split. Her husband wants her to be there when he gets home from work, and Laura isn't that kind of woman. I've never met anyone as dedicated to her work. She'll go until she drops."

"Sounds like the kind of scientist we need," said Newton. "I'll leave it to you to contact her and have her prepare to go with us."

"How much can I tell her?"

"Only what you think is essential to get her to join us."

Jess stood up and extended his hand to Frum. "Thanks Joe for asking me. And Hank, let's hope this is the beginning of a long and exciting adventure."

After he left Joe turned to Hank and spoke in a low voice. "Think we should have told him the real reason you got no pictures?"

"There'll be plenty of time for that later. I got what I came for."

Jess ran down the tower steps three at a time, anxious to notify Laura of her new assignment. He had not been with her when she went to Kashmir, but that had not stopped him fantasizing what it would be like being with this stunning woman on a true adventure.

Driving back to Farnwell he dreamed of sitting beside her, the fire illuminating her marvelous face, his arms around her, shielding her from the cold night air. He sneaked a peek at himself in the rear vision mirror. Tiny flecks of grey had sprouted around his ears the last few years. His face still looked young.
At forty one, Jess Martin still felt the need to prove his desirability occasionally with one of his female students. Handsome in a rugged sort of way, and absolutely brilliant when it came to academic work, he had no difficulty charming the hopefuls who would do anything to be selected to do their post graduate studies under his guidance.

Laura had achieved her Doctorate at Shanghai University, and had worked with the United Nations Cultural Committee before coming to Roosevelt College to head its Archaeology Department. Jess was the Dean of Languages at Roosevelt, and spent most of his time with his small staff in Cultural Coding, studying documents and artifacts brought to the College by Laura and her staff.

Now in her early thirties, Laura had been married to a tax specialist who worked in the accounts department of Roosevelt. Tired of trying to make a homebody out of her, their stormy eight year marriage ended, when Dan Mason fell in love with his assistant, Fred Harms. Dedicated to her work, Laura made no secrets about the fact she still had room in her life for romance if the right man came along.

In the lobby of her condominium Jess pressed the button and waited. "Who is it?"

"Me Laura...Jess Martin."

He heard the buzzer and pushed opened the heavy door. As he got off the elevator, Laura was waiting in the hall for him.

"What a pleasant surprise."

"You haven't heard the half of it yet."

"Of what? You really are excited."

"How would you like to take off on an adventure in the jungles of Colombia?"

"What...?"

"It's up to you Laura. I've been asked to go to Colombia with Dr. Newton, and if you want to come along, be my assistant, all you have to say is yes."

He marveled at how attractive she looked in a pair of tight jeans and Roosevelt sweat shirt. She led him into her living room and sat on the comfortable art deco couch, tucking her bare feet under her.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"Not now. Thanks."

"So. What's this all about?"
"Newton has discovered a cave with ancient symbols he wants decoded, and I thought you might like to get in on it with me. I sure could use your help."

"Tell me more."

"Apparently carbon dating places it about half a million years ago."

"What...?" She was astounded.

"That's what I said when he told me. This is the oldest communication ever recorded."

"Oh Jess...What a tremendous opportunity."

"Those are my feelings exactly."

"Of course I'll go. When is all this happening?"

"We leave Monday for Bogota."

"Monday...but. What about my staff ? That's practically no warning at all."

"Joe Frum has probably already told them. Just in case he hasn't, you better get on the phone and get the ball rolling."

"This is fantastic Jess. Honestly, it's absolutely fantastic."

She put her arms around his neck and kissed him warmly. "Thanks for thinking of me."

"I've done a lot of that."

"Would you like that drink now?"

"Take a rain check on it. Gotta face Martha with the news. If you need anything, call Frum. He's got all the gen. I don't want Martha to know about you coming along. I'm going to have enough problems as it is."

"Thanks again Jess. I'm so excited."

"There's even more. But it'll have to wait."

Read other novels by William James Johnson at www.noozoon.blogspot.com

ARCANA Chapter 22 by William James Johnson

The party which followed the landing in Seattle took place in the crew lounge of the International airport. John and Shelley happily joined the others in the celebration of their safe arrival. As the beer loosened their inhibitions, they relived every moment of the treacherous flight.

Ron was delighted with Shelley's show of appreciation. She was a toucher when she spoke. Again John felt twinges of jealousy. He didn't know why he was feeling this way about her. Maybe it was because she had shared such intimate secrets with him. Or maybe he really wanted someone like Shelley to take Sandra's place.

"That was one helluva close call." said Ron emptying another beer.

"We were ready in the back if you had crashed," said Shelley, trying to draw John into the conversation.

"There's no way you can get ready for a crash in the mountains. Believe me, I've lost some good friends who pushed too hard flying in that country."

"I don't see why you didn't stay over," said John. "That was a bitch of a flight."

"Like I told you. Arctic weather can ground you for weeks, not days. We took a chance and we made it. Drink up, John. We made it, for Chrissake!"

"I appreciate what you guys did for us. I'm just as glad as you are that we came out of it okay. But if you don't mind, I'm going to check out of this party and go over to Transcontinental and arrange for our flight to Washington. Are you coming, Shelley?"

"Don't be a party pooper, John. You go get the tickets and let us enjoy Shelley for awhile."

"What about it, Shelley?"

"Excuse me for a few minutes, fellows," said Shelley, smiling, as she took John by the arm. They moved away from the crew.

"I know you're going to hate me for saying this but..."

"But you want to stay with those guys. Right?"

"Right...Don't be angry, John. I think it's better this way."

"I'm not mad. You want to have a party, have a party. I won't stop you. Just tell me when you think we should head for home."

"I'm not going back with you."

"What? What the hell do you mean?"

"You know if I go back, they'll probably send me to the Gulag for leaving the drilling rig. And uncle Alex will get in trouble too. I can't do that to him."

"What about me? Don't you care how I feel?"

"John. You're back in civilization. Isn't that what you wanted? Tomorrow you'll be in Washington. I can't go back. It's too much of a risk."

"I can't believe this. I thought you said you cared for me."

"I do care for you. But we're too different. It would never work, and besides you know how I feel about men. I can't help it. It's just the way I am."

"So now it's Hunter you're after. I should tell the poor bastard what he's in for."

"Now you're sounding like a petty teenager. Let it be the way it is."

"What's going to happen to you?"

"I can take care of myself. I always have."

He kissed her gently on the cheek and waved to the others. Shelley smiled and returned to her small group.

The ticket counter for Transcontinental was across a wide promenade in the air terminal. It was only 7 AM and the passenger area was almost empty. A few scattered uniformed workers from the night shift moved lazily between the rows of seats picking up discarded newspapers and candy wrappers. Sprawled across three seats were travellers whose flights had been delayed, trying to catch a few winks.

At the ticket counter, a short agent with a well trimmed moustache, coiffed hair and dressed in a crisp airline tunic was busy stamping several vouchers as John waited for service. "When you're through there, I'd like to get a ticket."

"I will be with you shortly, sir. Please be patient."

John took a closer look at what he was doing and realized the agent was prestamping baggage checks. He resented being made to wait for some lackey who was trying to inflate the importance of his job.

"Look, why don't you do that after you sell me a ticket?"

The short, slightly pudgy man, became petulant. "Can't you see I'm not finished yet? I told you to be patient."

He reached across the counter and grabbed the ticket agent by the jacket. "I want the next flight to Washington DC and I want it now. Cut out that crap with the baggage tickets and do as I say."

"Well...I never..."

John passed him his Noramoil credit card and the agent finished the transaction. Turning around from the counter, he saw Shelley at the entrance door. She was leaving with the four aircrew. He felt like shouting, but decided he had caused enough excitement for one morning.

Slowly he walked into the terminal cafeteria which was packed with travellers and airport employees having that last bun and coffee before starting a new day. There was only one seat available as he scanned the restaurant. A young woman with a little pre-school girl was sitting at a round table in the corner. He carried his tray loaded with a danish and coffee and approached them.

"Mind if I sit with you?"

"Not at all. Please do."

"Really crowded."

"Sometimes you have to wait in line just to get a place to sit."

"I can see that. Where are you heading?"

"Jill and I are going to Kansas to meet my husband."

"You live in Kansas?"

"Not really. Duke's been there for the past five years and he gets out tomorrow."

"Gets out?"

"He's paid his debt."

"I don't understand."

"Where have you been? Everyone knows the coal Gulag is in Kansas. Duke was busted for trafficking. It was before Jill was born."

"I've been away myself. For fifteen years to be exact."

"Were you busted too?"

"Naw. I've been up north. On an oil rig."

"For fifteen years?"

"Almost. I never realized what a problem the drug thing had become."

"It's terrible. We've been living with my parents in Seattle while Duke's been away. You wouldn't believe how bad it's been in our neighbourhood. There's not a person who hasn't had his home broken into, or been mugged at some time for the money he was carrying. It really is terrible."

"How about yourself. Are you a user?"

"Never. I've accepted Christ as my personal saviour. There's no way I would pollute myself with that poison. Our bodies are the tabernacle of the Holy Spirit. With God's help, I hope I can bring Duke to salvation."

"That's nice. I hope you and your husband will be happy."

He finished his coffee and left her smiling about her future. He wondered why people had become so extreme. There was Shelley who was looking for the next guy to try between her legs, and the ticket agent whose dull routine would drive the normal person up the walls, trying to bring a sense of importance to his role. And now this pleasant woman, born again, trusting in the unknown to solve all her problems. Their lives were two dimensional like a television sitcom. He sat alone in the terminal under a digital schedule which indicated his flight east would be departing in an hour and a half.

He wondered how he would make contact with Thorpe. Maybe it would be better if he arranged to meet him through Chief Justice Blackbird. That was a better approach. He could tell the judge about his daughter. Surely he must be worried if the General had notified him of her escape. That's it. He would get at Thorpe through the judge.

He shut his eyes and again saw the bouncing blonde hair of Shelley as she left with the four men. It hurt to think of her and what she would be doing with them. Then Shelley changed into Sandra. He remembered the time on the Nobile when she came into the shower with him. Her trust in his leadership had kept him going. He wasn't a leader. He was just a frightened middle aged man wanting to do something worthwhile with his life before it ended. He was surprised that he had the courage to risk so much.

The announcement over the PA system notified the passengers to enter lounge "B" to prepare for boarding Transcontinental 415 direct to the nation's capital. John had changed into a sports jacket and slacks which he had purchased on his Noramoil credit card. He was amazed how this piece of plastic made life so easy. The bank in the terminal had advanced him a thousand dollars on this card alone.

There was a lot of room on the jumbo jet. He could sit wherever he chose. The ticket agent had given him a seat near the mid-ship galley, but he didn't want to spend the next five hours watching stewards hustle meals. No one was using the seats in the forward compartment behind the pilot's cabin. The stewardess let him get comfortable here where there was more leg room. He fastened his safety belt and drifted off to sleep.

He had no idea how exhausted he had become after struggling through the storm, having the beers with the boys and then waiting in the airport. He was awakened by an attractive stewardess tapping him on the shoulder.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir, but we'll be landing at Dulles International in twenty minutes."

John looked at his watch; it was two o'clock in the afternoon.

"Two o'clock. Is that right?"

"That was Seattle time sir. It's six p.m., Washington time." He changed his watch and tugged at the stewardess again.

"Have I got time to freshen up before we land?"

"Yes, sir. If you hurry."

He entered the small washroom and opened his toiletries case and took out his new electric razor. Feeling the bristle on his chin, he soon had himself looking human again. The cool water on his face finally woke him up. He brushed his teeth and combed his hair. In his opinion he looked quite distinguished. As he finished there was a tap on the washroom door.

"Please return to your seat, sir. We'll be landing shortly."

"Thanks. I'll be right out."

The stewardess, who had been so helpful, fastened her seat belt in the seat next to him after checking that everyone was ready for landing.

"Been with the airlines long?"

"Eleven years."

"Like it?"

"Used to. Now it's just another job. Let's face it, I'm just a glorified waitress."

"Why do you keep at it then?"

"Good pay. Lots of time off. Meet nice people. Those are all pretty good reasons."

"Married?"

"Not anymore. I was married to a pilot, but he got busted bringing in heroin from Bangkok. He's doing time in Alaska."

"Seems like this drug thing is everywhere."

"Tell me about it. It's ruining a lot of people."

"You ever try it?"

"I've smoked a joint once in awhile, but I wouldn't dare try anything else."

"How's that?"

"I've seen what it can do to people. There's no way I want to mess up my life like that."

They felt the giant airplane touch down. Surging forward, they pressed against their belts as the pilot selected reverse pitch. She unfastened her belt and stood in the aisle of the aircraft with a microphone in her hand.

"Please remain in your seats with your belts on until the aircraft comes to a full stop."

"Does this mean you're through for the day?"

"Yes. I put in twelve hours so far on this aircraft."

"When was that?"

"We came by way of Anchorage Alaska. Now I've got the next few days off before I have to do it all over again."

"What's your name?"

"Sue. Susan Pritchard. And you?"

"John Robins. Nice talking to you, Susan. See you again sometime."

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing until I get a place to stay."

"Look, if you don't think I'm being too pushy, why don't you meet me outside the crew lounge in about an hour? We could go back to my place. Maybe I could help you get settled."

"Hey that's terrific. You're sure it wouldn't be too much trouble?"

"I wouldn't ask you, if I thought there was going to be trouble."

He couldn't get over how easy it was to make connections with women, and he an old crock at that. Things certainly had changed since he went on the Nobile voyage.
He felt very rested after his long sleep coming across the country. At the baggage conveyor, he waited for his new luggage to appear. Grabbing the calf skin bag, he slung it over his shoulder and went looking for the Transcontinental crew lounge.

The terminal at Dulles was packed. Men with brief cases and expensive luggage came from everywhere to the nation's capital. There was a mixed, cosmopolitan dress. Indians in saris and Arabs in full regalia merged in the grand concourse. There were more people in uniform then he had remembered. The illuminated sign in the ceiling pointed to the crew lounge. Checking his watch, he grabbed a seat, and waited for Susan.

The time went quickly. Several of the crew came out, but his new friend did not appear. He checked his watch again. Growing impatient, he stood up, and carrying his luggage, went towards the lounge door.

It opened, and out came Susan, dressed in a bright cocktail dress, carrying a nylon uniform bag over her arm. "I hope you didn't get tired waiting. I thought I might as well change here."

She was of medium height, with a small bust and comfortable hips. Her legs were not heavy for a person who stood up all the time. She had a very attractive face and a marvellous smile which was contagious. Her hair was short and barely touched her shoulders. He was delighted to see she had changed.

"You look great. It was well worth the wait."

"Hungry?"

"Starved. I haven't eaten since this morning."

"I didn't want to wake you for dinner. You looked so peaceful."

"Well you pick the place. I don't know Washington at all."

They reached her car and went to the famous Watergate Hotel where Susan maintained a small apartment. He could tell she had made a lot of money over the years working for the airline. The furniture and accessories were the ultimate in chic.

"This is lovely. You've done very well for yourself. Must have cost a fortune."

"I didn't do it by myself. Paul liked nice things. That's why he got mixed up in the drug business. I think a lot of people get messed up the same way. Want everything they see. There's a pile of money to be made in drugs, believe me, I know."

"Are you and Paul divorced?"

"We are now. I didn't want to. But he insisted. They gave him twenty years. He didn't think it was fair for me to wait."

"Twenty years. Gawd, that seems heavy."

"He had two million dollars in heroin on him when he was picked up. One of the stewards was a plant on the far eastern flight. The government's been doing a lot of that lately. I don't think it's going to stop it though."

"Why not?"

"It's like smoking and drinking used to be. Everyone wants to get high. They aren't going to quit just because their government threatens them. I'm afraid we're stuck with it."

"Look Sue, if you don't mind. I'd rather not talk about this sort of thing. I find it depressing. I'd rather talk about some nice place where we can have a good supper, and get to know each other better."

"I thought you said you liked my apartment. Isn't this nice enough for you?"

"Of course. It's great. But you've been working hard all day. I'd like to do something special for you."

"That's sweet. Been awhile since someone did anything special for me...There's a good restaurant on the penthouse floor. Expensive."

"Sounds like just what I'm looking for."

"After dinner we'll come back here."

"I like it."

"Me too."

The supper in André's Steak House on the penthouse floor was superb. John thanked God for plastic money. With his Noramoil card there was nothing he couldn't have.
It was hard to believe he was here with such a lovely looking woman sharing intimate secrets after knowing each other for only a few hours. It had been the same with Shelley. He was beginning to think maybe this was the way people were now. They shared their secrets then moved on.

"Are you like this with all the lonely guys you meet on your flights?"

"Not really."

"Why do you think guys hit on stewardesses like that?"

"I think they've always believed we are sex fiends who'll sleep with anyone. It just isn't true. Oh I suppose there are some girls who take advantage of guys who are far from home. But not many. Don't you think men fantasize about making it with a good looking girl in a strange town?"

"I think the uniform also has something to do with it. If the guy lucks in with an attractive stewardess who looks sharp in her uniform, he feels like he's also getting back at the establishment. Something like that."

"Your way is too complicated. I think its much simpler. After watching a woman all day during their trip, they'd like to make more of it. If they're alone, and many business men travel alone, they daydream about what it would be like having some romance in their life, and the hard working stewardess is the one they focus on. But I can assure you, most of the time we're so tired after a long flight, we just want to get to our hotels and go to bed."

"How come you asked me to come back with you?"

"I liked your face, your friendliness. You said you didn't have a place to stay. I wasn't sure you would agree to come back with me, so I took a chance. Why? Are you disappointed?"

"I'm delighted. Any guy would be. You're lovely Susan. I'm not used to women picking me up...wait that's not the way I meant to say that...you know what I mean."

"I think I do. Picking you up, sounds cheap. I assure you that wasn't my intention."

"I know. And I'm sorry if I said it the wrong way. It's just that women have changed since I've been away. They're now more aggressive than I remember. More open."

"I don't remember it any other way."

"I kind of like it. It's more honest I think."

"How about you being honest with me. Tell me where you've been that's so different."

"Okay. I will. As soon as we get back to your place."

They returned to her small apartment, and got comfortable. She sat opposite him when he began his lengthy story of the Nobile adventure, and was in his arms when he finished. She was dead tired from her exhausting flight, but she wouldn't let him stop. She wanted to hear the whole story. When he described the death of Sandra, Susan wept against his chest, and he felt a hard lump forming in his throat. It was difficult not to cry with her.

"Oh John. This is the most fantastic story I've ever heard."

"Well it's true. Every word of it. Now I've got to get to the President and tell him all about it."

"That's going to be very difficult. No one can get near Thorpe since the assassination attempts. The druggies have been trying to get rid of him ever since the New York riots. How do you expect to do it?"

"I thought I'd go through the Chief Justice."

"Blackbird. I know him. He's flown with us several times. He's quite a lady's man. He likes young fellows too."

"How well do you know him?"

She went to her handbag and took out a small black leather book, and fingered the pages. "Here it is. His unlisted phone number. He told me once if I ever needed any help, to call him."

"I can't believe it."

"Don't be so surprised. I'll bet every stewardess, and probably many of the stewards have Blackie's unlisted number."

"Have you ever used it?"

"Never wanted to. Would you like me to call him now?"

John looked at his watch. It was almost midnight. "Maybe we should wait until tomorrow."

"The guy's a nighthawk. If he's home, let's try to get him."

"Whatever you say. You know the man better than I do."

"I've never dated him. But I know he would like to go out with me. He's tried often enough. He's just not my type."

She picked up the phone and dialled. It rang three times before it was answered.

"Hello."

"Judge Blackbird, please."

"The judge cannot be disturbed. Please call in the morning."

"Tell the judge I've got news about his daughter."

There was a pause and the sonorous voice of Judge Blackbird was heard on the phone.

"Who is this?"

"Sue Pritchard your honour. Transcontinental stewardess."

"Is this some kind of joke? I don't know any stewardesses. How did you get this number?"

"Please don't hang up. There's someone here who has a message for you from your daughter, Shelley."

John took the phone from Susan.

"Judge Blackbird, I'm John Robins and I was with Shelley up north."

"She's not up north."

"I know sir, and I can tell you where she is, if you can do something for me."

"I'm listening."

"I must see the President. It's extremely important."

"So what do you want from me?"

"I want you to arrange it for me. I can't do it myself."

"When would you like to see him?"

"The sooner, the better. Will you help me?"

"I'll call his White House assistant. It'll be up to them. What did you say you're name was again?"

"Just tell Mr. Thorpe that John Robins, the pilot of Airship Nobile, has a very important message for him."

"Nobile!...Wasn't that the dirigible that went to the Arctic several years ago?"

"That's the one, sir."

"And if I do this, you'll tell me about Shelley?"

"I promise."

"Give me your number, and I'll get back to you first thing in the morning."

John read out Susan's number. Hanging up the phone he grabbed her and hugged her.
"I can't believe it. He's going to help me get in to see the President. And it's all because I met you. You wonderful, sweet lady."

"I'm glad John. I hope this'll make all the suffering you have gone through worthwhile."

"It will...I know it will. Oh Susan, I'm so happy."

"I'm happy for you too." She tried to stifle a yawn. "But I've just got to go to bed before I drop. I've been up for the last thirty hours. It was your fantastic story that kept me going. So if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

"Where do you want me to sleep?"

"I'll get some blankets for you. You can use the chesterfield."

"Just show me where they are. I can look after myself. You get to bed."

He kissed her softly on the cheek.

"Thanks Susan, for your help."

"If I wasn't so beat, you wouldn't get away with just a little peck on the cheek. See you in the morning."

He was tired too, but the thought that he would soon be telling his story to Thorpe kept the adrenalin flowing and he found himself rehearsing what he would say if Blackbird could get them together. Finally he stopped thinking and his mind turned off.

It was the smell of fresh perked coffee coming from the kitchen that woke him. Through sleepy eyes he saw the trim figure of his new friend in a transparent camisole, outlined by the morning sun coming in the balcony window.

"Tell me I'm not dreaming."

She smiled at him from the kitchen. "You're not dreaming. Why don't you have a shower while I get us some breakfast."

He stood beside the chesterfield in his shorts, folding the blankets he had used. He still had a firm body for a man in his late fifties. There was little hair on his legs and chest, and as he moved, Susan could see the strength in his buttocks.

"You look fantastic," he said as he went into the bathroom.

She heard the shower, and what passed for singing coming from a contented John Robins. She knew he was much older, but she felt comfortable with him. When he came back into the room, she could smell the fresh after shave lotion, and his body radiated energy through the light sport shirt he had put on. He had forgotten that winter was setting in.

"Smells good."

"You sure do," said Susan.

"I meant the breakfast."

She kissed him tenderly and pressed her small breasts against him.

"Hold that mood for me, until we get some of that bacon and eggs where it'll do some good."

She moved away from him for a moment and studied his handsome face. She touched his hair and the side of his cheek.

"You've got power, John."

"Power...what do you mean by that?"

"There's something about you that attracts people. I think that's why you've noticed women coming on to you."

They sat in the small dining area and began to eat. "If you say so."

"I mean it. There's something about you that makes a woman want to be a part of you."

"You're putting me on," he laughed.

"No. I'm serious. I think it's your strength. You don't give up. You're not like the others who went with you on the Nobile. They preferred to stay in the secure Domain, but you were willing to risk everything to bring back this truth."

"But Tuma, and André, and of course Sandra, came with me. I wasn't alone. I felt like quitting many times, believe me."

"But you didn't. That's where you're different. You wouldn't believe the number of wimps I meet in my travels, who try to pass as men. You're right about one thing. The world has changed. But I'm glad you're just the way you are."

He touched her hand softly. "I could get used to hearing things like that. You sure know how to make me feel good about myself."

Their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.

"Hello."

"Is John Robins there?

"Yes. Just a moment please. It's for you."

"Mr. Robins, it's Blackbird. My car will pick you up at ten o'clock and take you to the Oval Office. The President is looking forward to meeting with you. I'll expect you to fulfill our bargain after you have spoken with him. Do we have a deal?"

"We certainly do, your honour, and thanks."

"I'll be expecting your call this evening."

"You can count on it."

He hung up the phone and was all smiles.

"It's going to happen. I'm being picked up at ten o'clock. Oh Susan I'm so happy."

"Don't get your expectations too high darling. Thorpe is a real tyrant. Everyone thought Koster was a villain, but Gerald Thorpe makes him look like a saint. I hope he doesn't hurt you."

"How can he hurt me? We're only going to talk."

"Just be careful. You don't get to his position by being a nice guy. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you."

"Nothing's going to happen. Besides I couldn't have done it without you."

"That's what I mean. In a way I feel responsible."

"Well stop worrying. No matter what happens, I'm coming back to you. You're really special. There's so much that I like about you. You're independent, but you're caring. And I love how feminine you are, still you've got strength. And you're so goddamn good looking."

She took him by the hand and led him back to her bedroom. She had made up the bed before beginning the breakfast. Pulling him down beside her, her robe slipped open. She felt his hands caressing the tips of her tiny breasts.

"We've got more than an hour before you have to leave. Let's not waste it."

"I can assure you, dear one, the time I spend with you, is not wasted."

She was gentle in the beginning of their caressing, searching out those responsive zones which makes a man feel he is about to be electrocuted. There wasn't the driving lust he experienced with Shelley. Instead, there was a build up, then a rush to fulfilment, and a leisurely retreat to quiet enjoyment of the closeness of each other.

"You're wonderful. I knew you'd be like this. That's what all those women who have been pursuing you want. They want to share, not just be taken."

"Sue...Please don't think I'm crazy for saying this, but, you're the kind of woman I've spent my life searching for. Don't ask me how come it has happened this way. I just know it's for real."

His sincerity stirred her deeply. "I feel the same way about you, John. I know you're older than me, but honestly, it doesn't make any difference. Let me be your girl. I want to help you tell the world about Arcana. This is such a tremendous discovery, and you were so courageous in all your struggles. Please, John. You've got to let me help you."

He held her closely, inhaling the delicate fragrance of her love. "I can't believe this is happening to me. Of course I want you to be my girl. Together, we'll tell everyone about IAM's love. They'll see it in the way we love each other."

"How can two people, who have just met, feel so sure about each other?" asked Susan.

"This must be what IAM wants to happen to me. He wants me to share the secret, and he's giving me your love to strengthen my resolve. I'm so glad I didn't stay in Seattle like they asked me. I would never have met you. It's got to be IAM."

"We'd better get dressed and go down to the lobby. You're going to have to go to Thorpe soon."

They went down together, and waited for the black limousine, which arrived exactly at ten o'clock. She kissed him and wished him luck.

Driving to Pennsylvania Avenue he was shocked to see the concrete barricades mounted in front of Embassies and Public Buildings. The nation's capital seemed to be under siege. The park areas along the route were neglected. There was an air of decay about the place. The long dark marble Viet Nam monument had been desecrated with graffiti. He could feel his spirits ebbing as they turned into the circular drive.
Inside the building, a Marine frisked him for weapons, then asked him to pass through a metal detector. He was also being scanned by a video camera. He wondered if Thorpe was studying him on a screen in another room.

"Follow me, Mr. Robins."

He was taken down a corridor and entered a small anteroom. The soldier pointed him to a chair beside a heavily panelled wooden door.

"The PFL will be with you shortly sir."

He was surprised to see how austere the interior of the building was. Whatever had happened to the paintings and the sculpture? The door opened. Gerald Thorpe came out of his office and extended his hand.

"John Robins."

"That's right, Mr. President."

"Please come in."

His office was more like it; sumptuous upholstery on the Louis XIV furniture, and beautiful marble busts of Washington, and Jefferson, on ornate pedestals.

"What's this all about?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"The Chief Justice says you claim to be John Robins, the pilot who flew the Nobile to the Arctic."

"That's correct, Mr. President. That's who I am."

"John Robins was killed in a terrorist attack on his dirigible over a superbowl game in Dallas about twelve years ago. It happened, after he returned with the others from the Arctic."

"Mr. Thorpe. That is precisely why I had to meet with you. The John Robins you are talking about was not the real person. I'm the real person."

"Are you crazy?"

"Sir, the people who came back from the north were Monads."

"What the hell is that?"

"They're a super race of creatures who live in the Domain. They're able to reproduce any material form, organic or inorganic. These creatures, after capturing us, and our airship, reproduced Monads in our likenesses."

"Wait a minute...back up...you said the Domain?"

"Yes sir, the Domain of IAM, the realm inside the earth which is really Paradise."

"Look. I don't know who you are, or what you're trying to pull, but I can't waste any more of my time talking nonsense."

"Gerald...don't you recognize me. I remember you. Back in Pozzuoli the night you came for the announcement of the crew of the Nobile. Remember Cardinal Vallenti. And your lovely wife...what's her name...Kathryn. She took over for you at the supper when you had to go to the hospital because Arnhem had a heart attack. Remember standing outside the SIC and watching Moysev vaporize the model of the Nobile...need I go on?"

Thorpe couldn't believe what he was hearing. Suddenly he knew, there was more to this wide eyed visitor than just a vivid imagination.

"You really are John Robins?"

"That's right, Mr. President."

"And you're telling me, you actually found an opening in the earth, and there were these strange creatures, these..."

"Monads."

"Right, Monads...And Koster. What happened to David?"

"He's there. He didn't want to return. Most of the crew stayed because it's so wonderful there...it's Paradise, believe me."

"And you. Why didn't you stay too, if it was so wonderful?"

"Because I felt the world had to know about Arcana, the holy secret."

"Which is?"

"That there is a Creator who loves man so much he is willing to let his creation reject him because he wants man to love him freely."

"But John...isn't that what man has always believed?."

"Believed, yes. But not known for sure. I know for sure, Gerald. I've been there, and I've come back. I have experienced what all men wish for. Now it is up to us to tell the whole world about Arcana."

"Sit down. Tell me all about it...the Domain, the Monads, Paradise...I want to hear the whole thing."

John was still briefing Thorpe when it was time for lunch. The President did not want to interrupt his visitor, so he had lunch brought in for them. As the afternoon wore on, a security Colonel knocked on the door to see for himself that everything was okay with his Commander-in-Chief. Thorpe thanked him for his concern, then asked him to be sure there were no more interruptions.

"What do you want me to do about all this?" asked Thorpe.

"The world has got to be told there is really a God and that he does reward the good and punish the wicked. If you don't tell them, everyone is going to end up in Photar's valley of light, burning for all eternity."

"But that's impossible. Who would believe me? They would think I've gone around the bend. No one talks about religion anymore. Haven't you seen what it's like out there? If I helped you we'd both be destroyed. There are all kinds of radicals who would love to seize power the moment I show any vulnerability.

"You have to tell them. The world must know the truth. Arcana, is the secret which will save mankind."

"There's no such thing as truth anymore."

"I don't understand."

"Truth has nothing to do with reality. Truth is whatever you want people to believe. If you say a lie often enough, it becomes the truth. That's the kind of world we are living in."

"But there's a way to prove what I have been saying is the truth. I know how we can make them believe."

"How?"

"Through the Monad duplicates who came back. Capture one and see for yourself. If we can get a surgeon to operate on one, you'll see. They have no internal organs. Monads get their energy directly from the sun. They don't need food like us earthlings. Wouldn't that be proof enough for you?"

"It would, if there were any Monads to capture."

"What do you mean?"

"Not one of the crew of the Nobile that came back from the Arctic is still alive.

They've all died, or disappeared."

"Even the Eskimo boy, Tuma, up at Baker Lake?"

"Yes, even Tuma. He was drowned in a hunting accident. Seems his father died the same way. No, I'm sorry, John, it looks as if you went through all that torment for nothing."

"But you can't leave it like that. People must be told."
"Then go tell them...but don't expect me to bail you out when they take you to the rubber room."

"Do you believe my story, Gerald?"

"Yes, I do. And you may find others who will believe you, but I wouldn't count on it. The world has changed. Koster wanted to control the minds of nations through behaviour modification, and we have achieved that, but we had to do it chemically. We've got our people under control. It's not perfect, but it is better than the chaos that came with the free-thinkers. I can't risk upsetting this progress by endorsing your incredible story. It's now up to you."

"And you're not going to do anything to help me."

"I can't. I have to be content with what works. That is truth enough for me. And if you want to avoid trouble, I suggest you keep this experience to yourself. I'm sorry, but that's the best I can do."

"I don't believe it...I've risked everything to bring the truth of Arcana to you, and you just turn your back on it."

"Am I so different from you. You admitted you turned your back on IAM. You forget my friend, we are still both humans. We are not like your Monads. We can still make choices, even if they drop us into Photar's fire, as you say."

"I'm so disappointed. I thought for sure, you of all people would want to tell the world this fantastic story."

"Consider yourself lucky John. You know the truth from experience. You don't have to accept it on blind faith. Live your life according to this experience. Others will see by your example, you are different. Who knows, you may even attract followers. This is the way your truth shall speak to the world. And now I must end this meeting. It was tremendously interesting, but I can do nothing about it."

He left the Oval Office with mixed feelings. The journey had been fulfilled, but his expectations had been frustrated. At least he had not turned him over to the authorities. Maybe Thorpe was right. Maybe the world could not handle the truth that its mythologies had a basis in fact. But he knew the truth. He had experienced it, and he had a wonderful companion waiting for his return who also believed the truth. Two people. At least that was a start.

Your comments on my novel would be appreciated...Bill Johnson

ARCANA Chapter 21 by William James Johnson

Gusting snow swirled above the pulsing helicopter as John prepared to take off on his test flight. As he increased the RPM, the blowing snow obliterated the control tower. Lifting gingerly from its pad, he headed north to check out his altimeter after Red had reported he couldn't find anything wrong with it. The whole sham of a test flight was his way to escape rig eight, and head south before attracting too much attention. Within minutes he was out of visual range, being tracked on radar.

"Radar, Noramoil one. I'm going to be dropping below your horizon to do a surface check on my altimeter. I expect to be out of contact several minutes. Over."

"This is radar. We copy. Standing by."

Rapidly he descended to within two hundred feet of the ice and pointed his helicopter south west, heading for Tuktoyaktuk. If he could get some distance between him and the rig, in the opposite heading to his last position, he was certain he would reduce the chances of alerting radar of his plans.

He strained to keep his plane under control in the heavy surface winds at this low altitude. Starting the timer on his instrument panel, he marked his present position on the chart that straddled his lap.

Muffled sounds came from behind his seat. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a bright orange cover begin to move. It was part of a survival tent which filled the space.

"Can I come out now?" asked the voice under the cover.

"What the hell...who's there?"

"Me...Shelley."

He pulled the aircraft up another two hundred feet so that he could take his attention off his flying.

"Come on out of there...now."

Bunching up the cover, she stuck her lovely head out of the edge of her hiding place. Her hair was loose and tangled. Smiling at John, she struggled to free herself from all the fabric.

"Told you I was going to come with you."

He was angry and glad. She could ruin his plan to escape, but only a dead man would prefer to be alone when such a vibrant, sensual companion had chosen to be with him.

"Come on up front. Can you get over that seat?"

"I'll try." She pushed her legs between the space in the cockpit and wedged her firm bottom into the opening, pressing against John's body. Rolling over in the copilot's seat she looked up at him, still smiling, hoping for his approval.

"I can't believe you're here. When you told me last night about the General and everything, I was sure this morning someone would come into my cabin and arrest me. I lost a lot of sleep over you last night."

"Was that the only reason you couldn't sleep?"

He smiled at her question. "It's been so long since I've been with a woman, I'd forgotten how good it feels."

"You were pretty good for a guy who hasn't done it for so long. Don't worry though, I'll personally see that from now on you get as much as you want." Her frankness embarrassed him.

Turning from her, John saw that the snow squalls were easing off as he continued to fly at 400 feet. The drift ice sped quickly beneath them and everywhere he looked it was like being in a huge white room.

"Can I ask you something that's been bothering me?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"Kinda embarrassing."

"It's got to be about sex. I've got a sixth sense about things like that."

"I'd call it a sexth sense."

"Hey, that's good. I sure like a man with a sense of humour."

"It's the way you turn everything into something sexual. Is this an act with you, or are you the genuine thing?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Don't you see how you come on to guys. You radiate the stuff. When I first saw you, I could tell we'd make it together. How come you're that way?"

"It's a long story...I'm not sure you'd like to hear it."

"Of course I want to hear it. We're going to have lots of time to put in. I want to hear all about you".

"I'm warning you. Some of the things I've got to tell you may make you angry. Even worse. They might make you hate me."

"Nothing you say or do could ever make me hate you."

"Promise."

"Of course. I promise. Now stop the stalling."

"I've never told anybody else this."

"Honest?"

"Cross my heart."

"As the man said, let the story begin."

"Well it goes back to when I was just a little girl. I'm thirty now, in case you didn't know."

"You look younger than that. So let's start when you were a little girl...I'm all ears."

She hesitated, organizing her thoughts, so that she could make her story more acceptable.

"It began one summer when I was at uncle Alex's farm. He and his wife never had any kids. He was always so friendly. He loved hugging me and wrestling with me, holding me astride his body, while he sprawled out on the floor. It all seemed so innocent. I really liked it. I liked it a lot. My own father seldom ever touched me, or kissed me, but uncle Alex couldn't get enough of me."

"Well this one summer...you sure you want to hear this?"

"Look...if you'd rather not, forget it. I don't want to dig up old memories that might hurt you."

"That's nice John...You know you're a lot like Alex. Both sensitive, and warm. Guess that's why I don't mind telling you this."

"Then go ahead. When you're finished, I can tell you some things I've never told anybody. We'll share our secrets. That's a good way to start, wouldn't you say?"

"I think so...now where was I?"

"On uncle Alex's farm."

"Right...well, as I remember it, the two of us went for a walk down to the stream which flowed through the woods at the far side of his property. Even though he was a career soldier, he owned a farm, because he wanted to have a place he could call home when he retired."

"It took us quite awhile to get there. We were both so hot, hiking in the open sun. Uncle Alex was sweating. He wasn't as heavy as he is now. He always took pride in keeping fit. We were beat. Like I mean exhausted. When we got well into the woods, he suggested we take off our clothes and cool off in the clear water. It wasn't deep enough to get right under, so I was feeling a little uneasy about going into the stream without my clothes."

"'We'll leave on our underwear,' said my Uncle. 'Just like bathing suits.' This sounded okay to me, because I really was hot, and I looked forward to sitting in the cool water. He watched as I undressed. I giggled when he let his pants fall to the ground. It was then I saw, for the first time, that hard thing I used to feel whenever we would play together. It was poking right out of his shorts...Do you really want me to go on?"

"Only if you want to."

"I do want to. I want to get it out, then forget it, forever. Well, he was embarrassed at first. He looked all around to be sure no one was coming. I ran from him into the water. He plunged into the cool stream, splashing me all over. We were having a great time playing together. He lifted me over his head several times. Then this one time, he lowered me onto his face and said, ‘Shelly, I love you so much, I could eat you up.' I thought he was still playing. That's when I felt his tongue doing things to me, right through my panties. I laughed and told him it felt funny, and good, at the same time. And I said I would eat him up too. He made a low sound in his chest, almost like purring. You know what I mean? Then he turned me over, still holding me, with my bottom next to his mouth, and he asked me to do the same thing for him. I didn't know what I was doing. I was only nine. I played with it for a few minutes then I kissed it like he asked me. He fell over backwards into the water with me on top of him. He shot a white stream, that curled in the air, and floated away in the cool water."

John had almost forgotten about his flying as she continued her graphic description of her sexual adventures with her uncle. He couldn't believe a guy like the General would be such a man. Disgusted with her picture of the old pervert, he was almost tempted to turn the helicopter around and confront him with her story.

"That's a terrible thing to happen to a child."

"Why would you say that? He didn't hurt me. Alex and I had many other experiences after that. No one ever knew."

"Then why are you talking about it now?"

"Because, in a way, it's bothered me all my life and if we don't make it back to Washington, at least I will have cleared my mind of it."

"Didn't your parents suspect?"

"Never. Mother was trying to establish herself as an academic, and dad was struggling through law school. They liked Alex, and when he and his wife had no kids after many years of marriage they didn't mind him sharing me."

"But he was molesting you."

"He wasn't molesting me. You make it sound so dirty. Uncle Alex was loving me, and I loved him too."

"Did he take your virginity?"

She was skilled in reading the true motives of men, who were constantly coming on to her. His question confirmed he was being aroused by her descriptions of her juvenile love affairs. She knew men fantasized about seducing young girls, and being the first to have them.

"I was only eleven when I began to menstruate. Mother was disappointed I was developing so rapidly. She briefed me on how to take care of myself and left it at that."

"Uncle Alex was visiting us at Christmas. He had just finished a tour overseas, and his wife had died. She had cancer and died in her early thirties. I felt so sorry for poor Alex . He had no kids to help him, and now his wife was dead. He asked me if I wanted to go to the farm before he had to report down south at a new base. He was a Major then. My parents didn't mind, because they liked Alex and they knew how much he was hurting with the loss of his wife."

"We were going to drive up to Vermont and do whatever it was he felt needed doing and come back for Christmas dinner at home. There was a heavy snow storm when we got there, and Alex went to the neighbouring farm to phone home and tell them we would have to stay because of the weather."

"That night, Christmas Eve, we were lying by the fire, when he began to cry. I felt so empty seeing this happen. I thought it was because of his wife's death. He assured me that it wasn't because of her. He said it was because he had been abusing me all these years, and he was so sorry he couldn't help himself. I hugged him and kissed him, and told him that if I thought he had been abusing me, I would have told someone, but I felt that whatever we did, we did because we loved each other."

"He kissed me so tenderly, and his touch made me feel weak inside. I touched him and kissed him with my tiny tongue, trying to be a woman. We undressed each other and he was very gentle with me as he supported me on his firm naked body. The red from the fire shone over the glistening flesh between his thighs, and I played with it like he had shown me. Then I felt his finger probing my tight insides, moving carefully all over the pink lips, making them shine with moistness. He said it would take a while before there was enough juice to make it easier for me. His finger pushed in further, and I felt a sharp pain, but he didn't go all the way. He continued to fondle my pink opening, and I thought I would burst. Gently he lifted me onto his lap and let his throbbing passion rest against my tender lips. Oh how I wanted him to push it inside. I didn't care if it would hurt. I was ready and I held him tightly and begged him to let me feel it with my swollen opening. Slowly he worked it in, stretching me until I thought I would rip in two. It felt so large. Yet, with all the juices coming out of me, it moved further and further into me, then it ached for a brief moment, and I felt my warm blood seeping down my legs, mixed with his creamy juices. We stayed like that for such a long time, hugging, kissing, until he slipped out of my tight body. He wiped me clean and continued to fondle my excited opening.

In a seated position on the floor, his organ thrust upwards again, he lowered me slowly onto its flaming end. It felt warm and swollen and my tiny bottom tried to caress its tip. With the greatest gentleness he eased the end into me about an inch and we remained perfectly still. I was a woman at last."

John felt weak as she continued with her description. It was as if he too was having her for the first time. His mouth felt dry as she continued to speak. She could see her story was getting to him.

"I'm sorry, John. Maybe I should leave it at that."

"Photar was right. Woman is truly the devil's companion."

"I don't understand. Who is Photar?"

"Shelley...what can I say. Of course your story gets to me. I wouldn't be human if I didn't react...I must say though, I think you get off talking this way too. Don't you?"

"I love sex. Why pretend I don't. Alex was a fantastic teacher and lover. It's because of him I prefer older men. They're more understanding...more patient. I like that sense of power I feel when a man comes inside me and I know he is most vulnerable at that moment."

"Gawd! I've never met a woman like you. I don't know if it is pleasure or pain you're looking for. All I know is you're one helluva copilot."

His track on his map showed they had cleared the radar range of control at unit eight. Pointing the nose of the helicopter upwards, he started to climb to a higher altitude.

"Why are you going up?"

"They can't pick us up on their radar anymore. I figure we should get out of the turbulence at about six thousand feet. It'll be less strain on both of us."

She studied his handsome face and greying hair. She saw why others had confidence in this man. There was the same gentleness in John that she had experienced behind the gruffness of the General.

It took several minutes of flying to get to the new altitude.

"There we are. Six thousand. That's a lot smoother."

"When do you think we'll reach Alaska?"

"I'm not going to take the Alaskan route."

"Why not? The General is expecting you to go that way. That's what you and Barry planned."

"That's why I'm changing it. If the General knows everything like you say, I think it's time we threw him a curve. The more we can keep them off balance, the better our chances of getting back to Thorpe."

"I think he wanted to know where you would be in case you got into any trouble and he could help us. Alex is that way."

"Forget it, Shelley...let's get back to your story. Tell me why you were sent here to the rig."

"Like I told you last night, I decided to return to school and get a degree in creative writing at Briarwood. Practically everyone at the school was into the so called designer drugs. I saw the chance to get some good stuff for a book, so I got into it too."

"What sort of stuff?"

"Hallucinogenics. Magic mushrooms. Synthetic speed. All those chemicals which let you trip out."

"I can't believe you were so stupid. You seem bright enough. Why would you take such a risk?"

"They're all doing it. You've been away too long, John. You really don't know what's been going on."

"So you did your psychedelic trip. If everyone's doing it, how come you got nailed?"

"I got caught bringing some new stuff into Noram from the far east. It was what is called anaphrodisiac, a substance which reduces the sexual appetite and lets you do it longer. With the way the gays were getting it on, I thought I'd make a pile of bucks with this new chemical. Only I got caught at the airport. I had the stuff in condoms up both my openings. Someone must have squealed. I was given a body search by this lesbian looking customs bitch, and that was it. My budding career as a dope peddlar ended before it got started."

"And you were sent here as punishment?"

"That's what they said. Daddy being a Chief Justice made a helluva difference. He just wanted me out of his sight and good old uncle Alex was always glad to have me."

"How much time did they give you?"

"First they sent me to one of the airbases to learn all about safety equipment, so I could do a job up here. Then I was brought to uncle Alex's unit. All together, I was supposed to serve five years."

"Seems like a lot for a first offence."

"It wasn't my first offence. I'd been charged before using other substances but each time daddy got me off. I guess he just got tired of bailing me out."

"What you said last night about screwing his ass off. Were you serious?"

"John, you've got to accept me for what I am. Some people call me a nymphomaniac. I just love sex. Maybe it's because I began so young. I don't know. I just like to make people happy."

He smiled at her openness. She looked so sweet, it was difficult to realize that this attractive young woman was so driven by sex. She placed her hand on his lap and gave him a gentle squeeze. He let his hand drop from the controls and touched her in uncle Alex's favourite spot.

After several hours of tedious flying, the snow covered landing strip at Tuktoyaktuk, surrounded by pre-war James Way huts and stacks of fuel drums, was a welcome sight. His fuel gauge indicated they were almost out of gas.

"There it is. Thank God. This machine must be flying on fumes now."

He approached the runway from the west, selecting an open area near a bright yellow fuel tender and an ancient twin engine cargo aircraft. The loose snow engulfed the helicopter in white as it descended. John cut the engine. A figure came out of the old metal shelter, peering through the fur of his parka.

"Fill ‘er up?"

"Later. What's that crate doing here?"

"Last of the season. They've been bringing in the fuel drums."

"Where are they based?"

"Seattle, I think. Why?"

"How can I find the captain?"

"In the mess. After supper they're going back home."

"Hold off refuelling me until I talk with the captain. Come on, Shelley."

The crowded mess hall hut was packed with oil field workers, and the four crew of the C119. Sitting at a table, at the far end of the dining room, John spotted the captain.

"Hi, Skipper. I'm John Robins and this is my copilot Shelley Blackbird from Noramoil."
He stood up and extended his hand. "Hi. Ron Hunter...Gary Carson my copilot, our engineer Dan Bright, and air movements coordinator, Jim Perkins. Get yourself some grub and join us."

"Thanks. We'll do that."

Shelley tugged at his sleeve as they went to the steam table to get supper. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"Think fast, sweetie. This is our big chance. You want to get down south you better come up with a reason why these guys should take us with them."

"You think that's wise?"

"Of course. We stand a better chance of getting out of this thing alive flying in that old Lockheed than we do staying with the helicopter."

"But what are they going to think if we just leave our plane like that. Doesn't that seem suspicious?"

"That's why you've got to come up with a good story. You're the one with the imagination."

They stalled, selecting the different dishes that spanned the steam table, while Shelley's brain ticked over, trying desperately to make up a story for the cargo captain. John heaped together mashed potatoes, covered in thick gravy, with two large patties of Salisbury steak, and a side order of carrots and peas mixture. Shelley was more discriminating. Taking smaller portions, she opted for the cutlet and what passed for fresh salad.

"Well, creative lady. What's our story?"

"I think we should make use of daddy."

"I don't get you."

"We tell them I'm the daughter of Chief Justice Blackbird and I've been ordered home as soon as possible because my mother has been in an accident. You were told to get me here and we were going to try to get a private jet to come for me."

"Sounds okay for you, but what about me?"

"My uncle, General Bird has ordered you to accompany me home. We had to come here by helicopter to make the connection. Do you think they'll buy it?"

Returning to the dining room they joined the others and began to eat.

"So what are a couple of Noramoil pilots doing here at Tuk?"

"Shelley's mother was in a serious accident back in Washington, and we're going to try to make a connecting flight out of here."

"Good luck. You're getting kinda late in the season to get a lift south. What did you say you're name was again, Shelley?"

"Blackbird. You probably know my father."

"The Chief Justice?"

"That's daddy."

"If you don't mind me making a suggestion, we'll be back in Seattle tonight. It's a noisy old bird, but it's reliable. We've got plenty of room on board. And tomorrow you can connect with Transcontinental."

"That's sounds terrific, " said Shelley. "John has to come too. Uncle Alex ordered him to take care of me."

"Uncle Alex?"

"Yes. General Bird. The commanding officer at unit eight."

"No problem. We've got plenty of room for both of you. What are you going to do about your chopper, John?"

"Get one of the ground crew to put on its cover and we'll pick it up on our return trip."

"Take your time with supper. Gary and I have to check the weather and file a flight plan. I'll have to include your names on the manifest. Is that Blackbird and Robins?"

They all laughed when they heard him say the names of two birds.

"That's right, Ron. And thanks again. You're a real dear," said Shelley.

They continued with their meal and the other crew members left to prepare for the return flight.

"You're a real dear...", repeated John, with a slight edge to his tone."Isn't that laying it on a bit thick?"

"Do I detect a slight note of jealousy?"

"What have I got to be jealous about. You don't really care."

She touched his arm. He could feel the warmth of her hand through his flight suit.

"That's where you're wrong. I do care."

Supper finished, they went to the round hut that housed the weather station. The surface wind had increased since their arrival. Snow was piling up in drifts around the dark silhouette of their helicopter. Inside the office the crew had just finished with their met briefing.

"Not going to be as nice as I thought," said Captain Hunter. "The arctic front that's been idling off the coast has decided to come ashore and we could be in for some heavy icing."

Do you think we should delay and see what happens?" asked John.

"I don't think so. We've gone through heavy rime icing with this old bird. It can take it. I'm just concerned about getting out of here before the weather clamps in. These things sometimes can last for days and you're stuck."

"Well we won't delay you. I've got to pick up a few things from my plane and we'll be ready to leave."

"That's fine, John." He looked towards Shelley. "If you like you can board now."

"Thanks. I have some things to get too. We'll just be a couple of minutes."

The two plodded through the snow which was rapidly collecting around their helicopter. The temperature had dropped drastically since supper.

"Must be frontal passage."

"What's that?"

"The cold front that Ron was talking about. We'd better hurry. It's not going to take too much of this to close the runway."

They hurried with their baggage back to the plane, its propellers swirling snow behind its pod shaped fuselage. Jim Perkins, the air movements steward, held the top of the ladder as they struggled against the wind to climb aboard. Once inside they felt the roar of the engines vibrating throughout the hollow pod. They both went forward to the pilot's compartment. Ron Hunter pulled off his headset.

"You got everything?"

"We're ready when you are," said John.

"Okay. Strap in back there and we'll get this show on the road."

The noise in the back of the empty cargo craft as he increased the power on the engines for take off was deafening. Shelley put her hands over her ears to block out the sound as much as possible. Perkins reached into his carry on parachute bag and pulled out two extra headsets with extension cords and mikes and gave them to John and Shelley. John plugged them into junction boxes which let them hear the transmissions in the cockpit.

They felt the aircraft straining as it lumbered down the runway of snow and ice. It felt like forever before it lifted off.

"I thought for a minute we were going to taxi all the way to Seattle," said John on the intercom.

"It's that damn rime icing. You get a thin coat of that, and it takes a lot more power to get off."

"Are we okay now?" asked John.

"No problem. The deicer boots cleared the wings. We get above this stuff and we should have smooth sailing," assured Ron.

The jump seats which extended down each side of the old plane were very uncomfortable to sit on. Shelley tried to lie down but the metal bars which divided each seat pressed into her. Perkins went to the back of the aircraft and opened a large survival container and removed a sleeping bag. Reaching in again he pulled out an inflatable air mattress. He came forward with them and shouting, to be heard over the noise of the plane, offered them to Shelley.

Within minutes of wiggling her way into the goose down bag, she was fast asleep. All the stress of the day drained from her face. John studied her peaceful beauty.
Jim, sitting beside him remarked, "Nice looking lady."

"Yeah. She's that alright."

"Must be something having a good looking woman like that as your copilot."

"You get used to it."

"I'd find it hard to keep my mind on my work with someone like that around."

"Look, Jimmy, if you don't mind I think I'm going to try to catch a few zees myself."

"No. Not at all. I don't mind. If you like, I'll get a bag for you too."

"I'd like that."

The monotonous drone of the engines soon got to John and he was back in the Domain, telling all his old friends about the horrendous journey he had endured. He saw Sandra, smiling, then he saw blood running down her legs and her body being hurled to the Warbies. It was happening all over again. He sat bolt upright and shouted her name, but no one heard him. Shelley was still asleep, and Jim had gone up front to be with the others.

Closing his eyes again, he fell into a deep sleep. No dreaming this time, just complete surrender to the exhaustion which had finally caught up with him.

A loud banging outside the cargo pod wakened Shelley and John. It sounded like something had come loose and was being whipped by the wind against the fuselage. The crashing continued. The temperature dropped below freezing in the cargo bay. John unzipped his sleeping bag and tried to stand but the violent movements of the aircraft forced him back onto his knees.

"What is it, John? What's happening?" asked Shelley, terrified by the apparent lack of control of their plane.

"Stay where you are. I'll go forward and find out."

He struggled to his feet again and swung open the door to the pilot's compartment, and climbed the few steps up to the flight deck. Both pilots and the engineer were fighting to keep control of their floundering craft.

"What the hell's going on? he shouted, over the din of the crashing ice which had smashed windows at the rear of the pilot's compartment.

"Worse damn storm I've ever been in," cried Ron, tugging at the control column. "They said there was a chance of light rime icing, but this is ridiculous."

"There's something banging at the back, Skipper. Sounds like something has come loose," said John.

"Yeah, I know. That's the radio antenna. Got so much ice built up on it, it broke loose and it keeps banging against the side. We've got more to worry about up here."

"Like what, for Chrissake?"

"Can't keep the nose up. We've been losing altitude for the last half hour. Got both engines on full power but it's not enough. If we keep going down at this rate, we'll be in the mountains in no time."

"What's happened with the deicer boots?"

"Too much build up. They can't break it off."

"Have you sent out a distress?"

"Radio's gone too. Gary got off our last position about two hours ago. You'd better go back and wake your partner. It doesn't look good."

Standing at the bottom of the short ladder which led to the flight deck, Shelley had been listening to the exchange. She grabbed John by the ankle.

"I'm here, John. What's happening?"

He backed out of the cockpit and returned down the ladder.

"Help me break out that safety equipment. We're going to need it."

"We're going to crash?"

"Very possible. Come on, let's get started."

With great difficulty, as they were being jostled from side to side they made it to the safety equipment at the rear of the cargo compartment and began pulling out the duffle bags with survival gear. They dragged the bags forward to the main bulkhead and stacked them against the metal partition. John fastened cargo retainer ropes to the sides of the aircraft then attached them to himself and Shelley. Sitting on the floor, their backs against the pliant duffle bags, John pulled the ropes hard, tying the two of them securely. He put on his headset and reported to the captain.

"We're secure back here, Skipper."

"Good. If you know any prayers I think we'd all appreciate a good word about now."

Their imaginations were driving them wild as they waited in the cold cargo section for that inevitable smash.

"Is this going to be it, John?"

"Sweetie, I have no idea. I just don't think IAM's going to let it all end here. Not after what I've been through."

"Why don't you ask for his help?"

"You don't even know about him. There was so much I wanted to tell you."

"Then start now. Tell me now, Johnny."

The unreality of their whole situation made him smile. They were shouting at each other to make themselves heard over the noise of the engines and the howling wind and sleet which was forcing their plane down. Here was his new companion wanting to know what it was that was driving him on.

"It's too hard to talk with this noise. I promise, when we get out of this mess, and I'll tell you everything. But for now, just sit tight and hope Ron can work a miracle."

She pressed against him, trying to draw from him some of the resolve he was showing. He leaned over and kissed her. She parted her lips and he felt her warm breath enter his mouth, dry with fear he didn't want to show.

Suddenly Ron shouted over the intercom. "Hold on back there. We've broken through the undercast. We've got maybe five hundred feet clearance between the tops of the mountains and the base of all this crud. If we can hold it here for awhile, we might get some relief from the ice."

"Anything you want me to do, Skipper? asked John.

"Just keep looking after that good looking copilot of yours. We wouldn't want to disappoint her daddy."

The clumsy cargo plane continued to maintain clearance above the jagged peaks below them. The sky was brightening in the distance and Captain Hunter saw the edge of the front moving away from them. With a great sigh of relief he came back onto the intercom.

"If you want to come up front now, you can see what it's like to have your prayers answered. I don't know who it was on this old crate had the power, but I do know we're out of it at last."

John unfastened the restraining ropes and helped Shelley to her feet. Together they went forward and joined the others. The release of the tension they had all been through started them giggling with pure joy.

"Now all we have to do, is find out where we are," said Ron.

To view other blogs by William James Johnson click on www.noozoon.blogspot.com