Categories > Original > Fantasy > Tradewinds 10 - "Reflection"
XVII
There were lost chapters, missing pages, but what Shades could piece together so far made him like this coin, this Amulet, even less.
…Finnagan finally arrived with the Amulet. It took him several years, but late as he was, I paid him off. Unlike the others, the one he brought me was the real thing. It was more than worth the cost just to get it out of those damn fool archaeologists’ hands, and into ours, where it was destined to belong. Soon, our research will be complete, and we shall be able to fulfill our greatest dream…
More of the same rants he had seen in other scattered pages. Out of those damn fool archaeologists’ hands, and… sounded like something Kato might have said about his medallion, and the thought crossed his mind that he might just find a suitable replacement for it here on this island. But not this trinket; even if Justin didn’t want it, his own inclination would have been to leave that thing right where he found it. The entries ended abruptly on one final note:
(08/30/094) They all laughed at us, even our closest colleagues, but we shall soon have the last laugh! With the ancient incantations translated, we may now begin our ultimate experiment in the quest for Godhood! When next I write in this journal, it shall be as an Immortal!
The few remaining pages were all blank.
Fragments of a tale Shades wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know the rest of. A tale of obsession and madness, and the cold mute walls of this compound alone knew what else. And when he stopped to think about it, “compound” did sound like an apt word to describe this place. All he was sure of was that some bad Voodoo shit went down here before they ever set foot on this island, and as much as he doubted he wanted to know the details, his curiosity was getting the best of him.
Aside from the notebook, the top drawer was otherwise empty, but the desktop was scattered with a random assortment of items, the only one of which he could attach any meaning to was a map of an archaeological dig, showing where the coin was originally unearthed. No surprise, the location mentioned on the map was nowhere he had ever heard of.
“Naz-Nak Mesa…” Shades muttered, trying to figure out why that name made him picture a faded road sign on some dusty desert highway. Or, for that matter, why it put him in mind of Amy…
He paused for a moment, as if realizing what he was doing for the first time. Where he was. The room itself seemed to press in around him a little, and it took him a moment to snap out of it.
Shrugging and deciding that any damage was already done just by reading the journal, and he may as well finish what he started, he resumed his search, digging in the second drawer. Certain that he had heard of countries with smaller budgets, he reflected, as he flipped through bills and receipts totaling outrageous sums. Then again, it was hard to gain a sense of scale dealing with unfamiliar currency; he would have to compare those numbers against the real estate sign later. It might give him an idea of what one of these “credits” was worth.
The bottom drawer held nothing but a jumble of random office items. Idly shifting it around, his hand happened upon an ammo clip among the other miscellany.
“How nice…” Shades commented, stuffing it in his jacket pocket. Where there was ammo lying around, there was often a weapon to go with; he was about ninety-nine percent sure there was no one else here, still he had no interest in arming that one percent. Especially if the last people who lived here were even half as scary as that diary suggested they were. Seeing nothing else of any immediate interest, but making a mental note to come back for some books later, he turned to leave—
When he heard the closet door start to open. Wheeled around as the door swung open wider, feeling time slip into slow-mo for that moment. Even as he reflexively backed away, reaching for his stun-sticks.
He was chagrined, and rather relieved, as it sunk in that what he was watching was an enormous stack of musty old books and binders spilling out onto the floor, raising a thin cloud of dust. That and nothing more. Through the dancing dust motes, he could see that the closet was otherwise empty. The damn books having eventually fallen against the door, forcing it open.
For all he knew, just the mere vibrations of his footsteps may have done the trick.
“Try to give me a heart attack, will ya…” As coincidental as that must surely have been, he still didn’t like it. Walking around in a haunted basement all alone— I’m an idiot. Recalling, as he did, their most recent misadventures, he concluded that he was in good company. Again questioning whether or not to curse his near-compulsive curiosity about the Unknown.
Fighting down that lingering feeling from the Harken Building, that he had wandered into the set of yet another horror flick, he set out to see what the rest of this level was like.
Trying the next room, Shades found walls and rows of bookshelves. Lined with ancient-looking tomes, volumes of occult lore, the translations of languages he had had never heard of. And some he knew nothing about, for their covers were marked with flowing scripts, characters, runes and glyphs the like of which he had never seen before. He stared for a long moment at all those shelves and stacks of books, glancing through the sea of names, all seeming to whisper, You’re in our world now…
What sections of wall weren’t loaded with books were instead plastered with maps, charts, diagrams and a scrawled-over chalkboard.
It was beginning to look as though he would have to use both his own and Max’s backpacks to fetch the most important stuff.
There were lost chapters, missing pages, but what Shades could piece together so far made him like this coin, this Amulet, even less.
…Finnagan finally arrived with the Amulet. It took him several years, but late as he was, I paid him off. Unlike the others, the one he brought me was the real thing. It was more than worth the cost just to get it out of those damn fool archaeologists’ hands, and into ours, where it was destined to belong. Soon, our research will be complete, and we shall be able to fulfill our greatest dream…
More of the same rants he had seen in other scattered pages. Out of those damn fool archaeologists’ hands, and… sounded like something Kato might have said about his medallion, and the thought crossed his mind that he might just find a suitable replacement for it here on this island. But not this trinket; even if Justin didn’t want it, his own inclination would have been to leave that thing right where he found it. The entries ended abruptly on one final note:
(08/30/094) They all laughed at us, even our closest colleagues, but we shall soon have the last laugh! With the ancient incantations translated, we may now begin our ultimate experiment in the quest for Godhood! When next I write in this journal, it shall be as an Immortal!
The few remaining pages were all blank.
Fragments of a tale Shades wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know the rest of. A tale of obsession and madness, and the cold mute walls of this compound alone knew what else. And when he stopped to think about it, “compound” did sound like an apt word to describe this place. All he was sure of was that some bad Voodoo shit went down here before they ever set foot on this island, and as much as he doubted he wanted to know the details, his curiosity was getting the best of him.
Aside from the notebook, the top drawer was otherwise empty, but the desktop was scattered with a random assortment of items, the only one of which he could attach any meaning to was a map of an archaeological dig, showing where the coin was originally unearthed. No surprise, the location mentioned on the map was nowhere he had ever heard of.
“Naz-Nak Mesa…” Shades muttered, trying to figure out why that name made him picture a faded road sign on some dusty desert highway. Or, for that matter, why it put him in mind of Amy…
He paused for a moment, as if realizing what he was doing for the first time. Where he was. The room itself seemed to press in around him a little, and it took him a moment to snap out of it.
Shrugging and deciding that any damage was already done just by reading the journal, and he may as well finish what he started, he resumed his search, digging in the second drawer. Certain that he had heard of countries with smaller budgets, he reflected, as he flipped through bills and receipts totaling outrageous sums. Then again, it was hard to gain a sense of scale dealing with unfamiliar currency; he would have to compare those numbers against the real estate sign later. It might give him an idea of what one of these “credits” was worth.
The bottom drawer held nothing but a jumble of random office items. Idly shifting it around, his hand happened upon an ammo clip among the other miscellany.
“How nice…” Shades commented, stuffing it in his jacket pocket. Where there was ammo lying around, there was often a weapon to go with; he was about ninety-nine percent sure there was no one else here, still he had no interest in arming that one percent. Especially if the last people who lived here were even half as scary as that diary suggested they were. Seeing nothing else of any immediate interest, but making a mental note to come back for some books later, he turned to leave—
When he heard the closet door start to open. Wheeled around as the door swung open wider, feeling time slip into slow-mo for that moment. Even as he reflexively backed away, reaching for his stun-sticks.
He was chagrined, and rather relieved, as it sunk in that what he was watching was an enormous stack of musty old books and binders spilling out onto the floor, raising a thin cloud of dust. That and nothing more. Through the dancing dust motes, he could see that the closet was otherwise empty. The damn books having eventually fallen against the door, forcing it open.
For all he knew, just the mere vibrations of his footsteps may have done the trick.
“Try to give me a heart attack, will ya…” As coincidental as that must surely have been, he still didn’t like it. Walking around in a haunted basement all alone— I’m an idiot. Recalling, as he did, their most recent misadventures, he concluded that he was in good company. Again questioning whether or not to curse his near-compulsive curiosity about the Unknown.
Fighting down that lingering feeling from the Harken Building, that he had wandered into the set of yet another horror flick, he set out to see what the rest of this level was like.
Trying the next room, Shades found walls and rows of bookshelves. Lined with ancient-looking tomes, volumes of occult lore, the translations of languages he had had never heard of. And some he knew nothing about, for their covers were marked with flowing scripts, characters, runes and glyphs the like of which he had never seen before. He stared for a long moment at all those shelves and stacks of books, glancing through the sea of names, all seeming to whisper, You’re in our world now…
What sections of wall weren’t loaded with books were instead plastered with maps, charts, diagrams and a scrawled-over chalkboard.
It was beginning to look as though he would have to use both his own and Max’s backpacks to fetch the most important stuff.
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