Lemuria by Burt Clinchandhill (most popular novels of all time .txt) 📗

“Sure,” Ignatowski agreed.

“From here, that’s the line you should walk. It’s only a few minutes. About halfway to the village, you will reach the Arca Domas. You’ll recognize it when you get there. There’s little chance you will run into the Baduy or Pu’un during the daytime, but don’t wander too far beyond the Domas, or you might run into the locals.”

“How do we recognize a local, and what do we do if we run into any?” Bishop asked.

Kadek rubbed his chin. “Hide if you can, I guess, and if you are seen, well, um... I guess you better run and get back down here. I’ll be waiting here with the bikes and expect you to be back in an hour.”

“I guess this is it. Let’s go.” Bishop pointed the way onto the path uphill.

“Wish us luck,” Lindsey said, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear.

“Good luck,” Kadek called out after them as they started their walk onto the path.

“That’s a pretty steep hill.” Ignatowski looked up the muddy trail.

“We’ll get down faster should the need arise,” Bishop answered, grinning.

“What do you think about those ghost stories?” Lindsey asked.

“Who, me?” Bishop asked.

“Well, both of you.”

“I believe there are things that we cannot explain,” Ignatowski answered.

“I also cannot explain David Copperfield when he walked through The Great Wall of China,” Bishop replied.

“But that’s different,” Ignatowski replied. “Copperfield himself would admit to it being a trick. I don’t know about Indonesia, but I heard about voodoo practices in Haiti that will run a chill or two down your spine.”

“Just because we can’t explain it, doesn’t mean it’s magic.”

“You’re probably right,” Lindsey said. “But still, I would try to avoid being a part of any of those magical rituals.”

Ignatowski nodded. “My sentiments exactly. Wait.” He suddenly stopped. “Over there.” He pointed into the distance, where the left and right edge of the path was covered with dark slate. At the end of it, two pyramid-shaped monoliths rose some ten feet from the ground. “Amazing.”

“This must be it,” Lindsey assumed.

“We better whisper from now,” Bishop said softly.

“Good idea,” Ignatowski agreed.

As they approached the two pyramids in front of them, a field of large—some enormous—stones appeared. Most of the rocks—in the roughly one hundred-square-foot-clearing—were carved in simple geometrical shapes. In the center of the place, on a large, square, flat stone stood a five-foot-tall pyramid with the image of a chubby man carved into it. Behind it was a small field with over a dozen carved men, women and children—each about three feet tall—stacked onto each other, most of them without a head. The place was fully covered in slate. As they continued walking, with every step, the slate cracked beneath their feet.

“Try to walk as softly as you can,” Bishop said.

“Sure, like that’s easy,” Ignatowski mocked.

“You feel that?” Lindsey asked.

“I do,” Bishop confirmed. “It’s like a cold breeze.” He took a few steps back through the two pyramids onto the path again. “I don’t feel it here.”

“Can we get going?” Lindsey asked. “This place gives me the creeps.”

“Looks a little like a graveyard,” Ignatowski whispered. “There’s no sign of any civilization being here for, well, I don’t know how long.”

“You’d say so,” Bishop answered. “But if she was here, as the locals suggested, she would have tried to leave another message, like in Peru. We should spread out and look for anything that stands out.”

“Like what?” Ignatowski asked.

“I don’t know,” Bishop answered. “Another text? Maybe, some trash left behind? As I know Jennifer, she would have done it so that it would stick out, and we would recognize it when we saw it. So let’s spread out.”

“I’ll take left,” Lindsey said, and Ignatowski automatically walked right. They slowly searched the clearing, inspecting all the stones from base to top, turning smaller rocks over and wiping mud from whatever could be written on or carved into.

With every step, a chill ran down Lindsey’s spine. “Is this something?” she whispered, and Bishop quickly moved to her side. On the back of a standing stone were some carvings. ‘Юрий был здесь.’

Bishop gave a broad smile. “My Russian is a bit rusty, but if I’m not mistaken, it says something like, ‘Yuri was here.’”

“Shit,” Lindsey said. “So, I guess we’re not the first strangers here.”

“Apparently not.” Bishop moved back to the center of the clearing.

“Psst. And this?” Lindsey whispered again.

“Something in South African, perhaps?” Bishop joked, as he walked approached her.

Lindsey pointed to the back of a two-foot-tall headless figure of a woman.

Bishop kneeled behind the statue and froze.

“Is this it? Matthew?”

Bishop stayed silent for a long moment. He took a handkerchief from his back pocket and rubbed the back of the statue clean.

“This is it. I’m positive.” Bishop stared at the images.

Ignatowski overheard and came running.

“Sh.” Lindsey put her finger to her lips as the sound of slate cracking beneath his feet filled the clearing.

“Sorry.” Ignatowski screwed up his face. “You found something?”

Lindsey pointed to the carving. “And why do you think this is something?” she asked Bishop. “What does it mean?”

Bishop snapped out of his trance. “Good question. I have no idea what it means yet. But I’m positive the message is from Jennifer.”

“How so?” he asked.

“You see this left part here?”

“Sure,” Ignatowski confirmed. “Stars, a cross, and some wavy lines. What is it?”

“I have absolutely no idea.” Bishop smiled. “This part, on the other hand....” He pointed to the second image.

“The waving sea monster?” Lindsey guessed. Bishop took out his camera and took pictures of the carving and the stone from every possible angle. “It’s the logo of the FSM, the—”

A low hum rose from behind them, and they all turned and stared into the jungle in silence.

“What’s that?” Ignatowski whispered.

“You see anything?” Bishop asked.

“No, but it sounds like chanting,” Lindsey replied.

“It’s getting louder,” Ignatowski took a few steps back. “Do we need to stay here?”

“I think we have what we came for,” Bishop whispered. “Let’s get back beyond the entrance.” As softly as they could, they tiptoed