THE BOOK E-Book

Robert Stetson Robert Stetson

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

Grant Stern stands looking out over the fields he has owned for the last fourteen years. “Whatever possessed me to sell this place and start a new life?” he mused. If God can make the devil disappear with a sweep of his hand, why doesn’t he? If we all have an equal chance to control the destiny of our lives, why are some of us crippled in our body or our mind? The answers to these and other questions are in THE BOOK if you choose to accept them. And so begins the horror classic of 2013. Set in the jungles of Uganda, the story unfolds as Grant Stone and Molly make their way from Victoria Lake up the Nile Victoria River from the village of Kimaka, a suburb of Jinja, Uganda. The evil book of glyphs is unearthed at the archaeological dig. The locals recognize it as “The Book of Demons”. Does the Devil have a Bible? Can the world stand against the power unleashed? Cry, weep, scream, but please, don’t give away the ending.

Leseprobe

Robert Stetson Robert Stetson

THE BOOK

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

CHAPTER 1 THE STORM

Grant, being a remarkably healthy forty two year old man, has maintained his body to form a muscular six foot two frame.

His steel blue eyes and firm jawline, along with his ruddy skin give him the look of a hard-body.

He looks ready for the grueling task of unearthing a city buried by thousands of years of rubble and jungle.

As the only tenured Professor of Sociology and Archeological studies, Grant is now the only person left who is qualified to represent the university in this venture.

I am Grant Stern. As I stand looking out over the fields I have owned for the last fourteen long years, I ask myself, “Whatever possessed me to sell this place and start a new life?”

A horn blows and I realize it’s time to go. Molly is looking out at me from the car. Her auburn hair is a bit windblown. Her green eyes are set in a sad expression.

My old boyhood friend since high school and constant companion Gabby is in the back seat.

They call him Gabby because he’s the world’s worst practical joker.

When he’s caught doing his pranks, he can gab up a storm until you begin to think it’s all a mistake. He’s artful that way.

As I enter the car, Molly says, “I know how much you love this place. It’s hard to see you leaving it after all these years”.

She also knows I have mixed feelings about the job I’ve accepted in Africa.

“How did they get you to do this, Grant?” she asks, looking at me with concern.

I respond, “Another Professor named Ned Bosworth was supposed to head up the project because of his past experience with ancient cultures.

“He died of a massive coronary just an hour after giving a lecture on the lost book of Glyphs. The book is fabled to be buried somewhere in Uganda. The natives there call it the Book of Demons.

“The book is said to have the knowledge of good and evil encoded within it. It is said to have the destiny of humankind buried in its glyphic text.”

Gabby says, “The rumor is that the book is buried somewhere in the ruins of this dig.”

Molly is a geologist with the university. She will be accompanying him on his trip to Uganda.

Molly has worked in the same building as Grant for the last three years. She has been somewhat excited about this trip, because every time she looks at Grant, something awakens a desire as her body goes into an involuntary response.

Grant is clueless about her feelings and Molly is dead set on fixing that.

Grant and Molly arrive at the university to find Matt Hamill, the Dean, waiting for them.

Dean Hamill says, “The Board of Directors at Maven University in Uganda insisted that Grant was the best person to oversee the excavation at the archaeological site. We have chartered a plane for you both to the Jinja Airport, Uganda.”

Grant looks at the Dean and asks, “Why Jinja when the largest airport in the region is Entebbe Airport?”

The Dean smiles and says, “We have the co-operation of the staff at Uganda Senior College at Kimaka. Besides, it’s a hard 58 miles to Jinja from Entebbe Airport.

“Since Gabby is on the business staff at the university, he has been selected to go along and help coordinate the operations as your assistant, Grant.”

The Next day we have our things together and meet at the airport.

Our plane is waiting and is cleared for takeoff in short order.

The flight is long and the 727 is too small for this length of a trip, but we will endure. We will make three stops for fuel; the first one is in Iceland.

As the plane touches down in Iceland, Molly turns to me and says, “I can’t wait to get off this thing and stretch my legs.”

I say, “Same here. What I need is a good shower and a night’s sleep in a real bed.”

The airport waiting room is small, but at least it’s well heated.

The Pilot and Co-Pilot poke their head into the waiting room saying, “We’re going to take a short drive over to the Crab Shack for lunch. Anyone care to come along for the ride?”

Molly and I look at each other with a wry face and I respond, “Molly and I have no desire to ride, fly or walk another mile if we don’t have to.”

Molly says, “Have fun, guys. We’re just going to stay here and nurse our aching bottoms.”

Gabby is asleep in the corner of the room. Knowing him as I do, I decide not to disturb him. When he isn’t sleeping, he’s either into something or pulling one of his pranks.

After three hours the plane is ready to depart, but the flight crew isn’t back from their lunch.

One of the flight-line crew comes in the waiting room and says, “We are going down to the Crab Shack and let them know we’re waiting for them.

“The spot where your plane is sitting is needed for an incoming flight in less than an hour.”

We settle in for another wait, but not for long. The flight-line crew is back without the missing flight crew.

I ask, “What happened?”

The Flight Crew Leader says, “Their car was swallowed up by a fissure in the road. There are no survivors.”

Molly becomes distraught. She begins to cry. I take her in my arms and comfort her.

“It’s just been one thing after another. I know this looks strange, but it’s all a series of coincidences,” I say.

Molly says, “Those poor men. We almost went with them and now they’re gone.”

On the phone from the university Dean Hamill says, “Sit tight, we have another flight due in there for you. It should take you the rest of the way.”

Darkness falls and the plane we came in on has been pushed off to the side to make room at the gate for the next incoming flight.

As the next scheduled incoming flight arrives, the passengers file by on their way to the main building.

Lights in the night sky grow slowly closer. It’s funny how incoming aircraft just seem to hang in the air and not be moving at all.

Molly starts to gather her things and says, “That must be our plane.”

The plane lands and it sits out there on the tarmac. We are told to board it and wait for it to refuel. The cargo from the other plane is loaded quickly as we watch.

I say, “Let’s hope the folks in Uganda know we’re delayed. They’re bound to wonder what happened to us.”

One of the ground crew says, “A new Pilot and co-pilot are here to return the 727 you flew in on. They decided that they have to get the original plane back to the states ASAP.”

We sit on board the plane and wait for our flight to Rome to finish refueling. The plane we came in on is cleared for takeoff and Molly and I watch as it accelerates down the runway.

We watch the 727 lift off the end of the runway and then tilt in the air. It sinks to the ground and explodes in a ball of flame.

Molly lets out a shout and begins to cry.

Molly’s face is still white as she says, “That was to be our plane to Rome.”

Gabby is chewing his gum and has now increased the pace of his chewing to a rapid pace. His eyes are almost bugging out of his head. He doesn’t speak, but you can see the panic in his face.

In the distance we can see the sky growing dark as a storm approaches. The sky is erupting with lightning. There is a crash and a boom that shakes the building.

We are running way behind schedule. Finally, our chartered flight has tower clearance to depart for Rome and the plane starts to roll.

A huge streak of lightning with three tangs flashes and we are temporarily blinded. The lightning hit the airport tower with an explosion that nearly deafens us.

Our pilots have to be blinded by the light, but the plane continues to accelerate and the wheels leave the ground, then there is the dull thud as they retract into the wings.

As we fly through the storm the inside lights flicker. We are thrown around like rag-dolls while the engines labor hard as we climb up through the tempest.

The pilot comes on the intercom and says, “Sorry for the flashy departure. The tower is out of commission, but we’re on our flight plan and should be arriving in Rome ahead of schedule.

“Keep your seat belts fastened. We’re going to be flying above the storm but expect some nasty turbulence.”

After what seems like forever, we arrive to join the landing pattern in Rome.

We are finally cleared for a landing when the Pilot announces that the landing gear is jammed and we’re going to have to ditch the plane on the runway.

The Fire Department is foaming down the runway as we come sliding in at two hundred miles per hour.

The plane spins around and the scraping sounds are horrific.

The lights go on and off while we’re skidding along.

The foam does a lot to lubricate the runway, but showers of sparks still make the landing dangerous.

When the plane finally comes to a rest I say to Molly, “We still have two more landings, one in Cairo and another on the only paved landing strip in Kimaka.”

Gabby is silent. He is just sitting in his seat looking straight ahead. He swallowed his gum when the plane hit the foam.

Molly says, “Holy Moley! Sitting down that long makes my posterior hurt, but I’m just grateful to be alive.”

I just smile and rub my legs and rump. The seats are comfortable for a while, but the circulation gets cut off after a few hours.

We finally get our luggage and walk out onto the dirt road leading up to the airport terminal.

An old battered Jeep is waiting for us and there is a man leaning back against it smiling.

He says, “Hi, my name is Maja. I’ll be your guide, interpreter and assistant while you’re here in Kimaka.

We load our bags into the back of the old rusty Jeep and climb aboard.

Our guide Maja says, “Kimaka is a suburb of Jinja. The airport there is closed to the public, but we got your equipment in here as close to the excavation site as possible and out of the way of prying eyes.

“The site is on the shore of the Victoria Nile. . The Victoria Nile feeds a large body of water called Victoria Lake.”

We bed down for the night and sleep well considering the trip we just endured.

In the morning we loaded up the four Jeeps and headed out to the site.

The jungle is thick along this part of the Victoria Nile. Our guides hack away at it until we arrive at the place where cut blocks protrude from the ground.

We have back-hoes and one bull-dozer to work with, but we have to use them sparingly to prevent damage to any relics we come across.

Our two way radio crackles and a voice says, “Welcome to our humble Kimaka. I trust you had as pleasant trip, though I hear you had a couple of unavoidable delays.”

Molly takes the radio and says, “The trip was exciting, but we’re glad to be here in your beautiful lush green country.”

There is a chuckle at the other end and the man says, “I am Professor Ibague from the local university. Most people expect to see the stereotypical natives with our shields and spears.

“We think your American movies are a scream. We all like to rent them from Netflix and watch the voodoo movies on our big flat screen TVs while we eat nachos and popcorn.

“We’re not quite as up to date as you are though. We have 300 channels of satellite and cable TV, but there are mostly old reruns.

“We get junky programs like gator hunting in Louisiana, Dog the Bounty Hunter, I Love Lucy and Lavern and Shirley.

“We lack the quality programming I imagine you have in America.”

When Professor Ibague is done telling us about their cable TV programming, I set the two way radio down.

I can’t help but notice that Molly is holding her ribs and laughing silently. She’s having trouble getting a breath in edgewise and her face is beet red.

“Are you OK?” I ask.

“I’ll be fine,” she says, “At least we won’t miss any of our regular TV programs.”

Twenty six men with pickaxes and shovels begin to work the land to uncover any sign of an entrance to the newly discovered ruins.

A shout is heard and the entire group of men crowd around a newly uncovered entrance in one of the stone facings.

One of the eldest men takes a lantern and heads on down the stone stairs.

There is a hollow quality to the sound coming out of the chamber.

I hear him say, “There isn’t much here. Just a box and some large clay jars.

Three more men enter the stone stairs and start to haul out clay jars one by one.

Then the three disappear down the stairs to help the old man with the box.

CHAPTER 2 BOOK OF GLYPHS

I can’t believe how hot it is out here. The sun is blazing away and it’s early in September. The temperatures around this part of the world in Uganda seem rather the same year round.

Gabby has characterized their seasons as only being two, summer and Hell.

I’m examining the clay pots when a shout is heard and I’m summoned to the stairway. A very old looking book is put in my hands. The condition of this book is remarkable, but, then in the tropics with the humidity sealed out of the box in the tomb, the book would fair pretty well.

I ask, “Who found it and where was it stored?”

An old man comes up out of the dig and says, “I found it. We were startled to find a box that looks like gold. It is too heavy to lift.

“I was thinking that the contents are making it too heavy, so I pried the lid open and found the book.

“It turns out that the box is heavy because it is solid gold.”

I recognized the book immediately as the one Professor Bosworth lectured on just one hour before his demise.

Molly comes over and asks, “What did they find?”

I show her the book and say, “The old leather binding is still intact and the cover is covered with glyphs in some language we don’t currently have a translation for.

“If I had to describe the glyphs I’d say they look of the devil. Not like the devil, but of the devil. Frankly, they give me the creeps.”

She holds out her hands as if to block any attempt I might make to hand it to her.

I stuff the book in my old worn leather book bag.

The excavation crew is lifting the box out of the dig entrance with a hand truck. It’s taking four stout men to get it out of the hole.

By the time the box is placed on the bench, the four men are sweating profusely.

Gabby says, “I have to log the book and the gold box into the record book and assign asset tags for them both.”

I stop him and say, “Let’s hold off until we find out where these relics are going”

Gabby starts going through the pots and vases. He makes notes on their condition and their characteristics, putting asset tags on each.

Molly and I are sitting quietly and talking about the box, the book and the dig.

She says, “I have some idea that there was a catastrophe here that took out the entire ancient city. It had to be sudden and it had to be catastrophic.”

Our discussion is interrupted by the arrival of a big black Mercedes. The door opens and two men dressed in suit and tie step out.

It’s unusual for people in these parts to dress this formally.

The smaller of the two men seems to be in charge.

He says, “We are Jacob and Ensley from the African Ministry. I understand you uncovered a box made of rare metal and a book.”

Gabby starts to speak, but I wave him off and he goes to the tent for a cup of coffee while I speak with these men.

I put on a puzzled expression and say, “Really? We found a box that appears to be gold, but what’s this about a book?”

The larger of the two men says, “Sometimes stories grow as they travel. Are you sure there was no book?”

Ignoring his question, I direct the two men to the back of my Jeep where the box is resting on the platform.

I summon the same four men who placed the box on the platform and told them to put it in the trunk of the car.

The four men look aggravated, but they take the solid gold box and put it in the trunk of their car.

I never admitted to finding the book. I have been keeping it in my leather bag safe from prying eyes. It’s too important a find to let it out of my sight.

The two men begin to leave, but the car won’t start. They have the hood up, but can’t quite figure out what the problem is.

My gaze shifts naturally to Gabby. He returns my gaze and smiles with that classic stupid grin that I recognize so well. He’s done something while he was idle.

My gaze turns into a dirty look as I walk around to the back of the car and remove the potato from the exhaust pipe.

I remember the days when we were teens and Gabby would always jamb potatoes into the tailpipes of the teachers he wanted to get over on.

I go over to Gabby and stick the potato in his open hand saying, “For crying out loud, Gabby, grow up!”

The two men close the hood and are ready to call for a tow truck.

I say, “I suggested you try starting it again.”

The car started right away.

I say, “Guess it’s the heat. It plays tricks on you out here, doesn’t it?”

Molly is on the phone and summons me to her side. She speaks softly with her hand covering the mouthpiece.

She asks me, “Do you want to tell Dean Hamill about the book?

I answer, “By all means.”

Taking the phone I start to speak, “Dean? Yes, we uncovered what I believe to be the Book of Demons”.

After a brief conversation with the Dean, I say to Molly, “They are sending a team of linguists to study the document”.

We make haste back to our lab in the university. Molly Gabby and I are hot and sweaty. We all need a shower in a bad way.