Blood Moon, page 2
part #1 of The Wizard's Journal Series
Sally jumped to her feet and followed me out of the lab. As the door was being locked, the computer program ended and announced in an automated voice, “Program translation completed.”
That’s odd. Usually decipher programs take days, and this time, it took only a few minutes without even fouling up or crashing.
Sally and I reentered my lab and I saw six numbers with words ‘Location Gate’ flashing on the computer screen.
Location gate … must be a program glitch after all, but the six numbers looked familiar and reminded me of map coordinates.
Skeptically, I pulled a world atlas from the book case and looked up what I thought might be a longitude and latitude displayed on my monitor. To my surprise, the location was at Puerta de Hayu Marca, a mountain region 35 kilometers from the Peruvian city of Puno.
“Wait a minute, I know this place. It’s the City of the gods.”
Puerta de Hayu Marca, also known as the City or Gate of the gods, was exactly dead center on at the map coordinates my computer translated. I looked back at the computer screen and read the words again.
“Location gate … maybe it means Gate of the gods,” I mumbled.
I got online to video conference with my old friend Manco who is a respected Peruvian archeologist. He must have been nearby his computer because he answered quickly.
“Willington, how are you my old friend?
“You know me Manco, I get by. How have you been?
“Well as can be expected and more.”
“Manco, tell me about your work at Puerta de Hayu Marca.”
“Why do you want to know about that place? There is nothing there but what everyone already knows. I have been to the Gate of the gods dozens of times. It is boring research these days old friend.”
“Manco, you saw the doorway?”
“Doorway … perhaps, or just some ancient vertical sacrifice slab supporting an arch … who knows for sure.”
“In the center there is a hole, correct?
“Yes Willington, but it is very worn and has no important meaning.”
“Tell me Manco, do you recall the radius of the hole?”
“Let me see, I have it in my notes someplace.”
Manco was not the most organized researcher. He had paper piled up on his desk and maps with too many Post-its to count stuck on the wall behind him. Manco may be disorganized, but he is also the most respected archeologist in South America, and an expert in ancient western civilizations.
Manco pulled a piece of paper pinned to a corkboard behind his seat and placed it near his webcam.
“Ah, here it is. It measures exactly 12 inches deep with a radius of one inch.”
The measurements are exactly the same as the artifact. It can’t be mere coincidence – there must be a connection.
I felt a surge of excitement that archeologists always get when a new discovery is about to be made.
“Manco, how soon could you meet me at Puerta de Hayu Marca?”
“How soon can you come to Puno?
“As fast as the next available flight can take me.”
Classes at the university still had a couple of weeks before summer break, but I was able to make arrangements for a colleague to cover my early departure. I gathered my traveling clothes and put everything inside a backpack along with the stone artifact. Without hast, I caught the first plane to Puno Peru to meet my old friend.
Chapter 2
The long flight to Puno Peru gave me plenty of time to think about when Manco and I were undergraduate students. Manco attended the university on a full scholarship while I delivered pizza at night and worked at various university jobs to help fund my education. He was the pragmatist and I the dreamer. I guess this is why I choose archeology so that I could live out my dreams by traveling to the many wonders of the world.
Manco returned to Peru after graduating and became an expert in Central and South American history while I accepted an associate professorship position. We were best friends in our college days, and still can count on each other despite living far apart.
As the plane rolled to a stop on the tarmac, I saw Manco. He was wearing a light colored suit and fedora trimmed with black ribbon. Good old Manco. He looked good, much like he did that last time I saw him ten years ago. You know how some people always make you feel good to be around? Well, that’s the kind of person Manco is, and no matter who you were, or what station in life you had, he always made you feel important.
When I disembarked from the plane, Manco began waving his fedora above his head, as if I might miss him. I found this amusing since he was easy to spot from the waiting crowd totaling all of four people.
“Greetings dear friend, welcome to my country,” he said with his arms stretched high above his head.
“Hello Manco. It’s great to see you again,” I said, then we embraced each other as good friends do.
A few feet away stood a woman with children and Manco turned to them and smiled.
“Willington, this is Wanita, my wife, and these are my children. And this Wanita is my dearest friend Jonathan Willington.”
“Wife and children? When did all this happen?”
“You have not visited for some time Willington, and as you can see, much has changed,” he said, then let out a big laugh while wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “Come, tonight you will feast on the finest Peruvian delicacies and be a quest at my home. After a full belly, good conversation, some tequila, and a restful sleep, we will go to the Gate of the gods. For what reason you want to go there, I can’t imagine, but it is your wish, so we will go.”
Manco led me to his Jeep where his wife and children had already piled into the back so I could sit in front.
“Just you wait Manco. I think I am onto something really big.”
“Big you say … good for you … maybe good for me too.”
It was a short ride to Manco’s house from Puno and the scenery looked much the same as it did when I last visited. The dirt road was pocked with holes and cactus were blooming vivid colors of red, yellow, and white. Ahead I could see grassy hills and every now and then some local wildlife. I had forgotten the natural beauty of this country. Manco was right. Ten years was too long of an absence from such a beautiful place, and certainly too long for us to have a reunion.
We arrived at Manco’s house quicker than I expected. Upon entering, I stood quietly and looked around at what was a very clean and domestic interior. My surprise must have been easy to notice because Manco smiled and slapped me on the back.
“Ha, not the same place you remembered from your last visit, hey Willington?”
“Things do look quite different now,” I said, looking at native weavings, carved dolls and animals, and handmade wooden furniture neatly placed as his home decor, not to mention a lack of empty tequila bottles that use to litter his floor.
“Family life suits you well Manco, and the touch of a beautiful woman has turned your hole in the wall into a real home.”
Manco laughed and Wanita smiled showing she was happy to hear my compliment and seeing her husband so proud of his home.
“I suppose it seems a bit alien to you my friend, being a lab rat at a Harvard. What can I say? Being married and having children can change even the most stubborn of us,” he said, then cuffed his hand near his mouth and muttered, “to tell you the truth Willington, I do miss my tools and antiquities that once adorned this humble place.”
I nodded in agreement, then we laughed and slapped each other backs like we use to do after completing research projects at Harvard.
“It’s good to see you again Manco. Really good.”
“Yes, just like old times Willington,” he said and opened a door. “Here is your room my friend. Put your things over there next to the bed and Wanita will prepare a nice hot bath for you. Soon, dinner will be ready, and after dinner, we drink tequila, tell stories, and when our eyes are too heavy to keep open, we shall sleep. At sunrise, may it not come too quickly, we shall go to the Gates of the gods.”
Manco let out another loud laugh as he closed my bedroom door and began chasing his kids pretending to be a bear. The children were laughing and shouting, “No bear can catch us. We are too fast.” For a moment, I felt a little old having no family, except for Sally, who I suppose is my family.
I actually have no memory of my biological parents and only vague memories of being raised in foster homes. I was told my parents died in an automobile crash when I was 12, which caused a form of amnesia. My childhood became less relevant once I became a student at Harvard. Burying my head in books all day and delivering pizza at night didn’t leave much time for thinking about my past.
“Señor Willington, your bath is ready,” Wanita said. “Come now while it is still hot. Dinner will be ready soon Señor.”
“Please, call me Jonathan, and thank you Wanita for being so hospitable.”
“You are most welcome Señor Willington … I mean Jonathan.”
The bathtub in the center of room was larger than I expected and made out of copper sheets banged together in artistic fashion. Its edges were adorned with cactus, suns, moons, birds and various other things one would find in a desert wilderness. There was no plumbing, except for a single pipe exiting from the bottom of the tub to a small metal grate in the floor.
The bathwater was hot, but not so hot for me to step in, albeit I had to do so slowly. I got myself into a comfortable position and closed my eyes while listening to music playing in the living room. The smell of fine home cooking kept me from falling asleep, but just barely.
“Willington, did you drown in that tub?” Manco asked. “It is time to eat dinner my friend and taste the delicacies of my country.”
I was already drying myself off when Manco told me dinner was ready. Perhaps I overstayed my time enjoying a hot bath, but I felt so refreshed that there was little room for feeling guilty.
“Be right there,” I said.
When I came out from the bath, everyone was sitting quietly at the dinner table waiting for me to join. I sat in the empty seat next to Manco and gazed at a feast of vegetables and meats that nearly made me drool with anticipation. Manco made a couple of grunts like he was clearing his throat. I looked at him and saw he was holding out his hand to me as was Juan, his eldest son sitting at my other side. Everyone was holding hands, except me.
“We will thank God for our many blessings,” Manco said, wiggling his fingers at me as a gesture to hold hands.
I placed joined hands with Manco and his son while Manco thanked God for a wonderful life, family, food, and the company of an old friend. Once the prayer was done, food began being passed around the table in an amazing orderly fashion, especially given such young hungry children. The food was incredibly delicious and I ate enough for three full grown men. It was the best food I’ve had for a very long time.
After dinner, Wanita got the older children settled down in their bedrooms and put the youngest in bed to sleep. Manco and I sat at a table next to a warm crackling fire and drank tequila and smoked cigars.
“Life is good, hey old friend?” Manco asked.
“Sitting here in your home, I’d have to agree with you Manco. I doubt it could get any better than this.”
After a few minutes of staring into the fire and making smoke rings from our cigars, Manco looked at me with a familiar and curious archeology demeanor. He had held back his curiosity since my arrival, which surprised me given what he already knew about the nature of my visit. It was time to get down to business.
“Tell me all about this stone of yours and what you expect to find at the Gates of the gods.”
“Manco, you won’t believe it. The artifact has two different carbon dates.”
“Two different carbon dates you say. How is that possible on a single stone?”
“That’s just it Manco, it shouldn’t be possible” I said, then took the artifact out of my backpack to show him.
“Look, it’s as though there were three stones made into one. There are no lines or indication of breaks anywhere. It’s solid, has no magnetic characteristics, and weighs almost nothing. Here, let me show you,” I said, placing the artifact onto Manco’s palm and moving it slowly to the left, then to the right. “See Manco, there is no feeling of weight displacement when the stone is moved. Have you ever seen anything like this before?”
Manco didn’t need to reply because the expression on his face said it all. He moved the stone side to side and extended it out horizontally.
“Remarkable … never in my life have I seen such a thing,” he said and narrowed his eyes to inspect the artifact more closely. “Some of these etchings are Mayan.”
“Yes, but these other etchings are something I have not seen before. It does not appear to be from any language on record, and look, there’s more Manco.”
I took the x-ray pictures out of my backpack and handed them to Manco.
“Look here, a pentagram with strange etches along the sides and ends,” I said, pointing to a drawing, then to numbers on the ends.
I explained how the numbers appeared to be a map location for the Gate of the gods. Manco’s eyes shifted back and forth from the artifact to the picture.
“Remarkable. Simply remarkable,” he said, narrowing his eyes as though not believing what he was seeing.
“What puzzles me Manco is that I doubt any modern day technology could have made this stone, never mind thousands of years ago, and why was it discovered now sticking out of the sand in an Egyptian desert? It should have been buried deep in the desert after all these years. It just doesn’t make any sense.”
“Willington, do you really believe this stone has something to do with the Gates of the gods?”
“I think it might be a code of some sort. Perhaps as the legends say, the gate is a portal to another dimension or world not of this Earth.”
Manco looked at me very seriously for a moment and then laughed.
“Good, then you go to the gate first and I’ll wait here.”
We laughed some more and then reminded ourselves how important the artifact might be if evidence could be found linking it to the Gate of the gods. Tomorrow the artifact will be placed into the gate’s hole and hopefully bring us one step closer to solving the mystery.
Manco looked tense. “Who will place the stone into the gate?”
I grinned. “Don’t worry Manco, I’ll do it.”
“Okay, if you insist my friend,” he said and then relaxed while lighting up another cigar.
After Manco’s children were all tucked away in their beds, Wanita came out and joined us by the fireside. She smiled, gave Manco a kiss on his check, and began knitting.
“It is a scarf for Juan to keep him warm,” she said. “The night will become cold in a few weeks.”
I smiled. “It’s a nice scarf. Your son will be proud to wear it.”
Manco began telling stories from Mayan history. As is the case with any archeological conversation, various interpretations of how and why the Mayan calendar was created took us into late evening. Wanita excused herself and wished us a good night and told Manco not to stay up much longer. Not long after, Manco and I finally exhausted our theoretical interpretations and went to our rooms to sleep.
When morning arrived, rosters let everyone know sleep time was over. I opened my eyes and saw Manco’s two youngest children at the foot of my bed staring at me.
“Good morning,” I said while rubbing and blinking my eyes.
With big smiles and giggles, the children replied in a cappella, “Good morning Señor Willington,” and scooted out of my room shouting “He is awake, Señor Willington is awake.”
“It’s about time. I swear Willington, working at the university has weakened your sense of adventure. Come on man, let’s get moving before the sun is gone.”
“Gone, it still looks dark outside to me,” I said, pointing to the bedroom window.
Manco opened the bedroom room door wider, extended his arms in the air, and said in a loud voice with a big smile, “Let us go to the Gate of the gods.”
I asked Manco, sarcastically, why he let me sleep so long if he was anxious for adventure. Manco raised his eyebrows and his smile faded.
“Me … you say I let you sleep,” he said and left the room muttering something in Spanish. “Come on Willington, breakfast is ready and my Jeep is packed. The adventure you seek is waiting for us at the Gate of the gods.”
Manco’s enthusiasm made me smile and wake up enough to get out of bed. I looked toward the bedroom window again while buttoning my shirt and saw a roster on the windowsill staring at me.
“What are you looking at? Are you the one who woke everyone up?”
The rooster turned his backside to me, hopped off the windowsill, and made a long noisy crow – just to tick me off. As I exited my room, I saw Manco packing up the last few things into his Jeep. Wanita smiled and told me to take care of her husband and not be gone too long. I promised to do as she instructed and went outside. The sun was now rising from the eastern horizon causing the night chill to fade quickly. It was going to be a great day.
Juan, the oldest boy, was in the back of the Jeep sitting on duffle bags.
“Look Willington, my son Juan is the next archeologist in the family.”
Juan smiled and stiffened his posture, showing pleasure in his father’s approval. He was lucky to have a father like Manco who understood the wonder of discovery. Not many children have the opportunity to learn about past civilizations from a renowned expert.
“This is my first adventure Señor Willington,” Juan said. “You and papa must teach me everything.”
Manco paused before sitting in the Jeep and looked at me with a big smile, then looked back at Juan.
“Everything you say? That is a tall order my son, but we will teach you at least something today.”
The drive to the Gate of the gods took about two hours on a poorly maintained road. All the bouncing around was enough to make me consider walking, but I survived and we reached our destination. Manco stopped the Jeep at the top a hill overlooking a mountainside.
