Atlantis Chronicles: Prince of The Olympics
Chapter 12

Michael was editing a paper for his junior government class when Don walked in.

“So, have you run out of weirdoes to send over to interview me yet?”

“Don! Hey, sailor, what are you going to do with your last two weeks before boot camp?”

“Well, funny you should ask. I was gonna see if my fishing partner wanted to maybe go on a road trip. I hear there’s a couple of awesome spots in the east Cascades. And I don’t think I’ll be getting back this way in . . .” Don trailed off when he saw Michael’s reaction. “Not gonna work, huh?”

“Sorry Don. I already sent in a deposit for orientation week at Seattle Pacific. It starts the Monday after we graduate.”

“Already? Aren’t you tired of sitting in classes?”

“Kinda. I think this will be different though. I’ll be in the dorms, but Teresa will be around, so maybe I’ll get to meet some of her friends.”

“Yeah. I’m sure big sisters always introduce their brothers to all the hot babes.” They laughed at that. Michael noticed Don’s hand was in his pocket.

“So, how’s the hand? Did you ever get it checked out?”

“The funny thing is, that guy you sent over, Rick? He took Mom and me over to Seattle to see some kooky old doctor in a high tech lab. Everything checked out fine until the MRI. They couldn’t get an image because of some magnetic field around my hand. That puzzled them for two days!”

“Huh. I know how much you love doctors. Two days?”

“Believe it! We didn’t have to pay a dime though. Turns out that even after, what, six weeks now, Seven? There’s still a huge amount of steel and graphite mixed into the outer layers of skin.” He pulled

his right hand out of his pocket. “That ‘Guy’ fella really messed with me.” Even now, after a month and a half, the skin had gray patches along his fingers and down the back.

“Is it still sore?”

“Not so much anymore.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know he did that to you.”

“Don’t worry. It’s kind of fun seeing all these eggheads stumped on how that happened.”

“I bet.”

Don nodded toward the computer. “What’s that?”

“Government paper. Mr. Lippert‘s final exam.” Don shook his head.

“You try too hard.”

“Well, I’ll be a college boy some day, you know. Hey, how about I call when I get back and maybe we fish somewhere around here?”

“No. Just won’t be the same while . . . he’s out there,” Don muttered. Michael looked at Don. He had never known Don be afraid of anyone before. Don stuffed his hand back into his pocket. Michael broke a long pause by getting up.

“So what are you driving these days? Can I see it?”

“Just my uncle’s beat-up Mazda pickup. It’s not worth the walk outside, but the price is right. I only have to buy the gas.” He smiled. “Well, see you at school tomorrow.”

X

Having finished his government test, and having studied for his science exam, he sat with his mom and a glass of milk, watching the evening news. As usual, there was nothing but bad news coming out of the Middle East. In Seattle, police were cracking down on drunk drivers.

“Drinking and driving will ruin your life Michael,” his mother said as the camera panned the remains of a burned out car twisted against a concrete barrier.

“I’m not one to worry about. I can’t afford a car. Or even the insurance to drive it.”

“I still worry about you,” she continued.

“You don’t have to. My DARE officer, back in fifth grade, Deputy Boyd, made us pledge to stay away from alcohol until we were twenty-one. He said it affects the brain permanently if used by someone young. I still have a few years to go.”

“Yeah, but young people are so influenced . . . “ Mom rattled on, but Michael’s focus was on the TV. A map labeled Olympic National Park was offset from the anchors face.

“. . .other news, the National Forest Service reports that attendance into Olympic National Park has skyrocketed in the last week. Day passes have sold out at all of the eastern accesses over the weekend.

Overnight campsites at all park sites have been booked throughout the summer. At this time, October is the earliest open space. There is no official word on the reason for this sudden boost in popularity, but the internet is full of speculation. Reasons range from the discovery of gold, to the fountain of youth, to space aliens.”

Mom looked at him. They cut to a shot of the entire news team.

“Gold, huh?” said the co-anchor.

After a snicker, the anchor turned to the weather person, “What will the weather be like up there for all the prospectors, Gwen?”

“Well, believe it or not, the prospect of seeing space aliens is not so good until late Thursday. The current patterns will continue, but will the skies clear up for some good UFO viewing? We’ll be back with a full weather report after this.”

“You think they’re after Guy don’t you.” Mom asked.

“You saw Network Magazine. Some people are desperate. But it sure makes fun copy, all this talk about space aliens,” Michael replied.

“Yeah, but gold! People take that very seriously. I wish you knew Guy’s address. You could warn him to lay low for a bit.” Michael nodded.

“Yeah.”

June 10

The sun was long gone. No sign of Guy. Only a faint glow in the western sky was left of the day. The chipmunks had all returned to their burrows. The deer were nested for the night. Only the stars

were out in force, each seemed a beacon shining onto Hurricane Ridge. Michael befriended a pair of astronomers as they set up their telescopes in the parking lot. In the twilight, he watched as the astronomers turned their sights to the moonless heavens.

“Do you think that each star might have planets like our sun does?” Michael had asked.

“From what we know about solar systems, it seems likely,” said one of the astronomers. Michael looked at the sky, the multitude of lights, and tried to fix a number on them.

“I sure see a lot of solar systems up there tonight.” Michael said.

“Actually,” the other astronomer, said, “if I look through this telescope at any part of the sky, even the darkest parts, all I see are more stars. We just can’t see them without the aid of a telescope, they’re so far off.”

“Wow! That’s a lot of solar systems in this universe. Lots of stars, and their planets. Now my science teacher, Ms. Gould, said that there is stuff called dark matter and dark energy out there too. How

does that work?”

“Well,” the second astronomer wiped his glasses as he answered, “scientists now believe that if you were to add all the light and rock and energy and matter in our galaxy, everything you could see, it would still only add up to just a little more than two thirds of what gravitational math says the total mass of it should be.”

Michael looked over, surprised, “Where is the rest of it?”

“You can see a little of it. It’s there.” He pointed to the Milky Way, the path of stars heading from the south to the northeast. “And that is Sagittarius, see the tea pot there? Behind the tea pot, that black area, is the heart of our galaxy. There’s actually billions of stars there. But, something is blocking our view of them all. Scientists call that something ‘dark matter.’ Maybe it’s nothing but dust, and maybe it’s something else. But, the gravity it generates is what holds the galaxy together.”

The first astronomer joined in the lesson “Then there’s also what we now call ‘dark energy.’ Some scientists say that dark energy is a force that is trying to pull the universe apart. It’s why the universe is

still expanding. Dark energy, dark matter, measurable energy like light, heat or radio waves, and then matter as we know it, that is what the universe is made of.”

After an hour of distraction and conversation, Michael headed back up the trail to the top of the ridge. He knew the way. This was about the fifth time he had been up here today. He didn’t even use his flashlight. The starlight was enough by now. From his vantage at the top of Hurricane Hill, he saw an even dozen cars in the parking lot, including the astronomers’. typically, a few hikers would leave their cars in the lot, spend a night along the trail, then return the following day, at least according to the astronomers, but ten cars? Michael was afraid that someone responsible for one of those cars was watching him.

Teresa had driven him to Hurricane Ridge Lodge that morning, and since, he had hiked all over the area looking for any sign of Guy. The trails were very busy, so he changed his tactic at noon. He stayed in one spot and waited. He chose the top of the hill, so that he could have the vantage. But, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the one being watched throughout the day.

Michael checked his watch. 11:24 PM. The breeze of the day had turned into a wind as the sun had set and had robbed the air of any heat, leaving a numbing cold. It crossed Michael’s mind more than

once to move to an area less exposed, but the only thing on his mind now was Guy. Why had Guy not come? Was he scared away by the crowds? Did he move on to some other park? Rainier National Forest was a nearby option. But how would he get there? He’d have to go through the Olympia

metropolitan area. Would he desert his community of Atlanteans? No. Was Guy restricting his interactions with ‘humans’? Was he on his way to their rendezvous? Was he recovering from a healing? Had he been asked by his Atlantean community to break off contact?

At his high school graduation party, the evening before, he had been so hopeful. He would be spending the week with Guy. He would learn about, and maybe even meet more Atlanteans. He would write about that experience. He’d write a book. He might even become famous. Now, 24 hours later, that all seemed a childish dream. He stood and decided he would spend the night up here. He could get

meals tomorrow at the lodge snack bar. Tonight, he’d use the restroom at the lodge, get some fresh water in his hiking bottle, then replace somewhere out of the way to crash until morning. He knew that Guy would be able to replace him.

As he climbed off the rock to the trail, his water bottle slipped from his grasp and fell onto the north side of the ridge. Michael looked over and could just make out the white mass in the starlight. He had been on that thin path down there earlier, so he pulled off his backpack, fished out his flashlight, and started after his bottle. The head of that little trail was just forty yards at the most from the bottle, and it was easy to replace, even in the semi darkness. It was about fifteen feet down from the trailhead that the path became thin and steep. Michael flipped on the flashlight as he approached that spot. He found the bottle. It was nestled gently in Guy’s hand.

“Guy!”

“Michael. Please turn the light off.” Michael did so immediately. After the bright light, the world seemed very dark.

“Where have you been Guy? I’ve been looking for you all day.”

“Yes. I saw. We were waiting for you to be out of sight of the others.”

“Look, I came to tell you that some people have found out about you, and they’ve told others. They might be searching for you here in the park. You’ve got to get out of here!” Guy stepped forward and handed the bottle over.

“Michael, I need to know what you know. Please picture in your mind all that you need me to know.” Guy placed a palm on Michael’s forehead, and his other hand on Michael’s temple. Michael recalled his meeting with Rick and Tony, watching Network Magazine, and the news about the increase in park attendance.

In a moment, Guy said something to someone back at the trailhead. Michael had no idea who it was, or what was said, but the person there gave a short reply, then headed west along the north face of the hill. Michael never heard so much as a footstep, nor saw a glimpse, but he knew there was no hiking trail along that route. Guy spoke more, toward the top of the hill, where Michael had been just minutes ago. The language had a distinctive musical quality. It was part song, but, part whisper as well, with a bit of echo. There seemed to be a lot of vowel sounds, and few hard consonants. A second later, Guy reached up, caught Michael’s backpack, then handed it to him.

“Michael, I can feel that you are tired, but it is important that we get somewhere safe before light. The home of Cad’l is safe and close. We need to go quickly though. Follow me as closely as you can. We have seven of your miles to go. . . in the dark. . . I will lead you. First light is about four hours away.”

“June 11 A.M.”

There was just enough starlight to follow Guy around the mountain tops. The problem was that Michael was having trouble staying awake. Thankfully, Guy seemed to understand. He would always slow, or ask questions just as Michael was about to stop. And it was dark. It was obvious that Guy was deliberately traveling slow, and keeping near to him. Not used to hiking at five thousand feet, when they headed uphill, Michael’s breathing would bottom out. He tried his best to keep oxygen in his lungs, but found Guy supporting him a number of times. He was not used to the terrain either. While traversing a rocky slope, Michael couldn’t avoid starting small rock slides, sometimes, one with each step. Of course, Guy didn’t start a single one. In fact, Michael never saw even a footprint, though he couldn’t see much in the faint starlight.

Fortunately, the last part of the trek was downhill. Michael was glad of the change as Guy led him down off the ridges. It was much warmer, finally getting out of the wind. The grasses and mosses

underfoot were a carpet on his sore, wet feet. The trees, dripping from the dew, prompted Michael to fetch his poncho from his pack. At the third small stream they turned uphill again. They walked past sword fern, and other rainforest shrubs that Michael didn’t recognize.

His legs were almost worthless, having little power left in them. Guy helped Michael up the hill, practically carrying him at some points. Finally, just above the steepest part of the hill, Guy

stopped as Michael, totally spent, collapsed onto a stream side boulder.

“We are here.”

Michael carefully stood and looked about, trying to catch his breath. They were in a stand of old growth. There was a thicket of giant Red Cedars maybe thirty feet from the stream. Actually, there were cedars all about. Hemlock too, and a few Douglas Fir, some yews, but the size of the cedars in the thicket were amazing. The treetops were obscured in morning fog, so he couldn’t even guess at the height. Slowly they strolled over to the thicket as Guy watched Michael with a smile on his face. Michael went up to the biggest trunk and stretched his arms no more than a quarter of the way around. While under the tree, he paid the price. The branches of the huge tree had caught the morning mist, and now it was dripping down on and around Michael.

“Cad’l is aware that we are here. Should we go up? ” Guy asked as he picked up a few dead branches from outside the thicket. Michael looked up again. The tops of the trees were still lost, but Michael eventually noticed a definite bulge in the wood through the mist.

“Sure. How do we get up there?”

“We will use the stairs.”

Guy squeezed between two mammoth cedars, Michael right behind him. After climbing over a huge branch, Michael noticed a stairway in the side of one of the giants. He squeezed through another patch of the thicket, and followed Guy up the steps. The steps were definitely not carved, it was more like the cedar just grew the steps. The outer bark was all still intact. They followed the spiraling stairs around the cedar twice before they opened into a small sauna. Through the mist, the stairs continued up around the tree, but in the room, a miniature fire was burning. It was inside a cavity formed from a second cedar. There seemed to be some kind of flat stones around it. Guy stepped over to the small fire, broke, and placed a small branch on it. The rest of the branches he broke and stacked off to one side. Michael noticed a crystal bowl had been placed above the fire. In it, water boiled. There was a constant drip into the bowl from the cedar boughs above that replenished the water from the bowl, keeping it full. Steam from the bowl seemed to rise and slip through the branches above. Michael recalled the small cloud of morning mist among the treetops. The floor and walls of the room were live Red Cedar.

Michael followed Guy out of the sauna and around the next bend in the stairs. The cedar stairs led them to another room, this one large. The room was comfortably warm, steam seeping through the floor. The floor was made from some of the branches of at least five live cedars. The space between the branches was less than two inches, and the floor seemed perfectly flat. The ceiling was about the same. Obviously, Atlanteans knew how to manipulate the growth of these trees. The walls were comprised of cedar boughs, giving the room a wonderful, crisp aroma. Michael noticed Guy move toward the far wall, taking off his pack and his cloak.

“Come, we must be dressed before Cad’l can join us. Take off your Coat and boots. Leave them on a branch.” Michael watched as Guy tied his traveling clothes and boots high on the wall. Michael did the same. He liked this room. He loved the steam, the smell of the cedar, the airy, new, yet, somehow, ancient feel of it. Guy handed him a pair of brown slippers. Stepping into them, they were dreadfully uncomfortable. There seemed to be a couple rods of some metal that ran the length of them. Michael readjusted the slippers onto his feet a second time.

“Try to balance your center of gravity over each step.” Sure enough, if he moved slowly and deliberately, the slippers were not only comfortable, but his weary legs stopped throbbing. It felt

as if he stepped properly, his foot never hit the floor. Guy stepped forward wearing a long yellow robe, and held another out.

Michael had been too preoccupied with the slippers to notice, took off the poncho and put it on. The robe smelled quite earthy and looked the color of moss. Once on, the drops of dew were no problem.

“She comes.” Guy walked toward the stairs. Michael followed, though he nearly stumbled when he miss-stepped on the slippers.

“Michael, Say ‘Coe laandy don doe, Cad’l Akee’’ It means may your days be without number, Cad, daughter of Akee. Say it when I introduce you in your language.”

“Coe laandy don doe, Cad’l Akee.” Michael repeated while stifling a yawn. No sleep and the exertion of the hike were catching up with him. Guy nodded, then turned to the stair. Unnoticed before, the back of the entry-way wall was decorated with intricate statues.

Michael tried to step closer, but, in a moment, a regal woman with dark hair and a similar robe walked slowly down the stairs. Michael and Guy greeted her as planned.

“Coe laandy don doe, Mann’n Dack,” she replied with a nod and a smile. She and Guy spoke briefly, and formally in that musical language, what must be Atlantean, for a minute before Guy turned to

Michael.

“Our guest is Michael Curtis,” Guy switched to English. “He sheltered and shared with me. My life is tied to him.” Michael bowed as he had seen both Guy and the woman do.

“Coe laandy don doe, Cad’l Akee,” he said. When he stood, she stepped forward, dropped her hood, then reached over to lower Michael’s as well.

“Mik’l?” she asked as she looked into his eyes. Her massive green eyes bore into him, nearly knocking his weary body down. Finding him exhausted, she gently touched him by the base of the chin below each ear. Michael suddenly felt her forcing her way into his mind, watching his thoughts race past. His ears began to ring. He felt her shadow growing across his thoughts. This isn’t how it felt when Guy did it, he thought.

“Of course not. He is the Enrai, the high king,” came the whisper of a reply as she examined his thoughts. After a few moments, he passed out with the strain.