Crypt Quest: Rising Darkness
Fragments
The piercing jut of metal spearhead into dirt brought Reese Hunter through a droning, haze-filled trance. The impact of his incursion, against what was probably buried sedimentary rock, jolted his shovel and his mind out of his self-induced coma.
"Are you listening to me? Where you coming in from, buddy?" The bruising sound of another man's voice cut in like a stone saw.
Then, Reese came to recall he had recently put himself into a pseudo-work situation, landscaping the front yard of a three-story, three hundred square meter luxury home back in Western civilization. The staircase leading up to the large front doors were halfway completed using intricately styled, red, interlocking stones.
"Huh? Oh, sorry. I was in the Middle East, tracking and discovering a sacrificial tomb made to honour the Ancient Luwian leader of Troy," Reese replied, snapped back into conversation.
Cal, a shorter, sandy-haired late-30s, blue-collar worker, stopped his digging for a second, unsuccessfully processing what Reese had just said. "So, like, a goods-purchasing thing? My aunt bought and sold whips for a living until she found out they were being used for non-adventure related exploits."
"More like property hunting," Reese continued, mending Cal's disconnect. "But my adventure uncovered a strange talisman that may have a connection to a separate find brought back here."
His co-worker nodded and kept digging. "Oh, the realtor business is wrought with grifters and dirtbags! You'll get estates built on Nazi death camps and Indian burial grounds and told to like it."
"That's, uh, not totally unappealing," Reese stumbled. "What I'm getting to is that, through my home contacts, I've heard-tell of an ancient stone tablet being studied somewhere in this here-city, that could relate to my find, that the owner of this here-property may or may not know where-is."
Cal threw his head back. "Ohh yeah, that-there owner runs in those rich circles alright, which is exactly why Jacobson bends over backward for our cash-flushed client, sacrificing our hard work, making us run double shifts!" And then, "Well, we're paying the price here. Not him!"
"You depleted your gummy bear inventory again, didn't you?"
The man threw his shovel down in fading frustration. "I dropped them in that stair build, dammit! Do you know how many buses from the bulk store it takes me to get here?"
"Hey, Reese," another voice crept up from behind. Emma, a slim late-20s woman clasped her hand on Reese's shoulder and then walked around. Her gear belt hung loose over her jeans. "Cal," she greeted.
Cal continued. "Emma, tell Reese how insane the client is on this job. First the stairs, and now the koi pond. It just keeps a changin'!"
"Client wants what the client wants," she shrugged it off, letting go of Reese. "Best we can do is work it and hope for a better tomorrow." Emma shrugged. "So, bar tonight, guys?"
Reese replied, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Have you two not ever challenged a dominating autocrat?"
"We need jobs, my friend," Emma added. "Real-life circumstances are meant to be navigated with restraint and acuity. We vent to make it sustainable."
Cal sputtered, "Yeah, we likes it amicable! Nyuk, nyuk."
Meanwhile, outside their peripheral, Jacobson, an older, mid-50s, taller and weightier man, walked by on a quest to survey the staircase. His movement caught Reese's eye and prompted Reese to drop what he was doing and run over.
- - -
"Sir! I need an advance on my pay," Reese opened, untactfully— evidence of his haste and shared work disposition.
Jacobson, busy cross-referencing his clipboard checklist, replied, "Reese, you may be shaping up as one of our terrible workers, but I'm in a serious situation here. Apparently, Frankie uncovered some kind of ancient tomb fragment and now the owner wants to stop all construction, with no restart date."
"Fragment?" Reese paused. "Hmm. It's unlikely, but possible the initial heritage survey missed something. If there is a find, we have an obligation to shut down and get a licensed archaeologist to assess."
The manager gritted his teeth. "And how long would that take? Months? That's money out of our pockets, Reese! I want to buy an imitation yacht, you know!"
"Mind if I take a look?"
Jacobson turned to get back to his business and grunted, annoyed. "Oh no, you don't." He pointed a contentious finger. "This ain't going to turn into some tomb hunting, ancient artifact mumbo jumbo." He deadpanned. "Your résumé was weird and brutally honest, man. I'm just saying."
- - -
But Reese accompanied Jacobson to the construction dig area anyway. They moved further down the front yard, just below a parked, yellow-rusted, long-necked excavator which had halted digging for a now-delayed koi pond.
There, Frankie and the homeowner, a young late-30s go-getter named Martin Groves, were standing around what appeared to be a partial flat stone, half-sticking out of the already-disturbed dirt. "Since I'm not moving in for a while," Martin began, "I'm cancelling this grave-busting operation until a more thorough survey can be made."
"Sir, this is hardly a burial site and we have complete historical documentation. If you claim your stone-thing now, we can finish the job a lot sooner," Frankie negotiated.
Reese ignored them and bent down to examine the piece, much to Jacobson's chagrin. Reese dusted off the top with his hand, revealing strange writing. "Frankie's right. It's not a burial fragment. This appears to be part of a tablet written in cuneiform script? It's definitely not from here."
"Then let's pray this does not go missing. There are more questions than answers, and I have an obligation to the rich part of the historical community," Martin explained. "I read a lot of articles that I frequently regurgitate back to anyone who will listen."
Then Reese stood up. "You know most articles are pretentious bait, right?"
"What? Lies! They're high-brow academia with plot!" And then, before turning away, "I want your equipment and all your workers off my property by tonight!"
Reluctantly, Jacobson, a usual go-getting force of nature, sighed. He turned and passed Reese an angry look before nodding to Frankie. Frankie acknowledged the silent order to start evacuating the premises and began manning the giant machinery that was the excavator.
- - -
As Jacobson made his way back toward the work trailer, Reese followed. "Sir, the owner obviously planted that there. It's Sumerian— At least, Sumerian-influenced. I think he stole that piece from somewhere to use for his own personal interests."
"First of all, all interests are personal," Jacob started. "Second, I've had quite enough of you, Mr. Hunter. Not only did you ignore my wishes to not involve your weird antiquity obsession, but you cost us the job. If you're a know-it-all, just make an appearance on Jeopardy already!"
Reese thought about it for a second.
"Stop that! As soon as you finish cleaning up, you're fired," he ordered. "You need a job in the competitive trivia industry."
- - -
After he left, Reese entered the backyard, joining Emma. "Damn. That Martin guy is exactly as off-putting as they say. Possibly more off-putting than conventional off-putting, if you'll allow me."
"I shall. Besides, money ruins people," Emma shrugged. "If he plans to shut down because of that artifact thing, surveyors will find him out."
Reese nodded. "Unless that object were to somehow disappear, after we all were a preliminary witness of it. He could get one of his own people to survey, where he'd get a cut."
"So, money makes people smarter?" Emma surmised before squinting. "This is expensive news."
The work-laden-adventurer turned to empty space. "What's costly is that he's somehow taking a piece of ancient history that I was looking for." Reese shook his head. "I'm certain this client is messing with everything for some reason and that we can't let him do that. Are you up for a little stake-out later?"
"Seems like it's all about you, but ok."
- - -
Later that evening, when the sun was setting into near darkness, and, as the shifts ended, the last of the equipment had finally been packed and driven away on the landscaper trucks. Reese and Emma found themselves hiding out, behind the half-finished, crafted stone wall in the east section of the large front yard.
"Uh, this is what cops do. Or are you some kind of high school mystery solver reject?" Emma questioned.
Keeping an eye on the unreachable artifact, Reese squinted, trying to see through the darkness as best he could. "Less reject, and more Graduate. It literally was always a dude in a ghost costume."
"Why am I not surprised? Anyway, Jacobson says you went to school to get educated and qualified for archaeology, but you dropped out?" she asked.
Reese sighed. "Unfortunately, I ended up using what I learned to travel overseas and investigate antiquities, as if I was a moth to some sort of flame. Fire, maybe. The faculty saw it as exploitation and kicked me out."
"Ah, exploitation, you devoid mistress. So, now you sit in dirt and hunt artifacts," Emma concluded. "Could be worse."
Reese shrugged in agreement before the sight of a dark-clothed and hooded figure, popping its head and upper body, slowly, out of the other hilled-end of the front yard took his attention away. "Hold that indispensable thought."
- - -
The man in the ninja-style, dark and wrapped clothing dexterously snuck his way over the hill on all fours until finally reaching the dig site. Just as the thief reached for the ancient stone carving, Reese's own arm sharply jutted in and deflected his.
"—Antiquities chasing so close to dinner?" Reese said, catching the thief's attention.
The thief stood up and both he and Reese suddenly exchanged arm combat jabs after deflect after jab. "This entrée is more than you'll ever get, landscaper!"
"Give it a rest, Martin. I can see right through your out-of-context ensemble," Reese accused as he blocked a punch and returned with a side-kick.
The kick was pushed away and responded-to with a kick of his own. "Quite an eye you've got there, dirt monger," Martin replied, unmasking himself in mid-block of an incoming punch. "You must be one of those artifact obsessors that've been going around lately. Well, I'm sorry, but this one's already been found."
"Odd definition of 'found', Stealy-Joe," Reese countered as they both flung and deflected faster kicks after punches after kicks. "You pilfered this from a one Doctor Corrigan, from one of his remote research labs. For fraud, I assume."
With that, Reese force-palmed Martin in the chest, knocking the thief back into the wall of dirt that edged the dig site. Clumps of loose Earth rained down on him. "Oh, is that supposed to impress me? That you know people?" Martin scoffed. "Knowledge is nothing without power!"
Suddenly, the ground beneath them broke apart from the clump-impacts and the two fell six feet deeper into a now-open natural burial chamber containing three animal skin-wrapped bodies.
"How about the eternal power?" Reese replied in shock, getting up and shovelling large chunks of Earth off him. He began scanning the bodies. On each one, sat a white rock where the head was. "It's an Algonquin burial, right under your house."
Martin scattered the dirt off him and looked as well. "This whole time!?" He stood. "I funded Corrigan's research into the Algonquians, but got pointless, non-marketable drivel from museum-encapsulated scientists!"
"Sounds like you don't know what research is," Reese lambasted. "Wait. Speaking of research, did you say museum?" Reese's sudden cognizance aligned, victoriously, as his eye connected with the tablet piece he then found himself reaching for.
But the click of Martin's revolver indicated to Reese a worthwhile freeze of movement. Holding the rest of his stretch still, Reese's gaze panned up to the disgruntled disorderly holding him up. "I don't care what you know. None of this matters anyway. This whole thing wasn't for money."
"But the terrible posturing?"
Martin shook his head in critique. "Haha! You fool. I'm being tested to abandon my life for a greater power! The likes of which the world is unprepared and—"
CLANG!
Out of nowhere, Emma struck Martin in the back of the head with one of their shovels. Reese panned up to see her reach from the above ledge.
"Forgot this one," she said as Martin hit the dirt, unconscious. The gun sunk part-way into soil. "Man, he was info-dumping like crazy. Anyway, are we good to hit the bar now?"
As Reese knelt and turned on a small, finger-sized flashlight to examine the tablet piece again. He replied, "Yeah, he really was in some maddening state of exospeak. That guy, albeit a surprisingly sharp fighter, was more nuts than I gave him credit for."
"Crazy is just a lens, you know. By the way, this mystery-solving stuff is kind of fun in an accumulation-towards-violence kind of way," Emma suppositioned, dropping the shovel to the burial pit. "But I'll stick to my normal life."
The young man climbed out to join her. "Well, I got what I came for, and then some. But, if you'll understand, I have to get going n—"
"Don't give me that recycled shit. I did your thing. Now you have to do mine," Emma hard-lined.
- - -
The next day, his snarky co-worker gaped at him with eyes wide open. "And you and Emma just did it in front of a dead guy??"
"He wasn't dead," Reese replied, with arms crossed. "He was unconscious. And, we went to the pub. Why would you jump to such an outrageous conclusion?"
Cal looked at Reese like Reese was painfully ignorant of the obvious. "Uh, because that would've been a far better ending to your story."
While they stood outside the trailer office near the house, on a sunny, blue and hot day, Jacobson exited the front door and approached the two.
"Well, it looks like Martin is respecting the burial ground by not mobilizing an historical excavation. In fact, he wants us to cover that area with soil and grass."
Reese twitched his head. "He really has changed. I suppose even the most conniving of men yield to the spiritual. Not to mention, he doesn't want us to go to war with him for fraud and stealing."
"Didn't your résumé say you once stole a Nazi pin from a Parisian catacomb?" Jacobson remembered, quite astonishingly out of character.
Caught off-guard, Reese fumbled, "Huh? What? Well, the Nazi's were genocidal maniacs, so I'd be hard-pressed not to pilfer them."
"Anyway, here's your pay, as thanks, but with a severe cut for insubordination." The tall, overweight man handed Reese a cheque. "Oh, and another cut for good measure. Don't look into the legality of that."
Cal continued his gaping glare. "And you're not pissed at him??"
"Stress is an age killer! You should know better. Besides, I need someone who can tile interlocking stones like some kind of Greek Hermes on Ethiopian coffee. That's not Reese." He turned to the slim adventurer. "Just be normal like us. Get a job in the competitive crossword puzzle business or something."
Reese reacted quizzically at the man's suggestion as Jacobson walked away. The non-artifact hunting artifact seeker felt slightly closer to his next step.
"I'm pretty sure a man died doing a puzzle once," he re-examined. "Anyway, I need to get moving and find out what the Trojans knew. This thing is like a fire of death I can't not jump into." He paused. "Trinity Museum is where I have to go."
Cal nodded before stopping himself. "They have fire extinguishers there, right? Either way, whatever it is you're doing, be careful." He looked away. "Everyone's obsessed with something, and yours sounds like it's dangerous."
"The pursuit of knowledge, my friend, is its own armament."
He reached into his pocket and felt the hand-sized fragment that he had confiscated the night previous. He couldn't accept that he'd be anything like Martin. He would find the rest of the tablet and return the stolen piece.