Keepers of the Lost City

32 Unearthing the Truth

On their way through the trees toward the higher cascades of the mine hill, Purdue asked Herman about the markings that Sgt. Anaru was so defensive about. With the police officer heading into the mouth of the mind with his weapon drawn, he could not keep Purdue from getting the information he wished to obtain.

“Why red paint, though?” he asked as they sauntered past the markers. The elders exchanged glances. After a brief pause, Sully answered the Scottish explorer’s question.

“Nazi’s.”

Purdue did a double take to make sure the Samoan leader was not laughing. His face was straight and serious, prompting Purdue to react in the same way as most people.

“Excuse me?” he frowned.

“The red paint,” Herman explained, “is what is left of the symbols the Nazis painted over the guardian etchings of the tribes. We never knew if it was to claim the land as theirs or if they thought their little sun would counter the ancient sigils of this land. Idiots.”

“Sun? They painted a sun?” Purdue asked, playing dumb.

“A sun, mate, a sun with lightning rays. Every one of these markers were painted in red and black back then. After the fall of the Third Reich the locals scraped that shit off,” Herman recounted. “Williams probably did not feel like bitching about it, because he did not repaint it or anything.”

“Why would he?” Purdue wondered aloud, but his inquiry was deemed unimportant. The elders ignored him and instead pointed out to thick thorns or slide soil to avoid. Near the top of the ridge is where the steep hill started. Up at the top the gaping mouth of the entrance looked like a screaming monster, but it was Purdue’s curiosity that drove him onward to join the others at the cavern. “Aren’t you coming?” he asked Herman and Sully.

“No ways,” Herman shrugged. “If you want to die, you go ahead. We came to look for Mr. Harding, so we will check this whole farm… except that part.” He pointed to the mine entrance.

“Why would you come to search for a dead man?” Purdue whispered, having made up his mind that Lewis Harding could not possibly be alive.

“He could just be lost,” Herman answered. “That is where this city gets its name, mate. It is a city of the lost, not some grand golden ruin of diamonds and gems. That is what makes this place hellish, its ability to make you lost.”

Sully gave Purdue a long warning stare. “David, the gold in those ores… you know that is not the legendary Lost City, the City of Gold, right? That city is not worth losing your life over, mate. Stay out here with us.”

They could see right through him. Both men arrested Purdue’s attention with their old, wrinkled brown faces and sharp, black eyes. It made him uncomfortable, but something about these good men radiated magic — old magic.

“If the legends are true, David, there are monstrous snakes in there, unable to breed, thank God, but still practically sure to kill men where they stand,” Herman preached. “To look for a bad fate…,” he whistled and shook his head, “is madness.”

“Don’t go in there, mate,” Sully advised.

“You know that I have to know what is in there. I came all this way after going through hell to find the clues that led me here. I cannot let a bunch of reptiles deter me. To know what it holds,” Purdue admitted to them, “I would have to defeat the guardians of the Lost City.”

“Them’s not the guardians, mate,” Herman laughed resentfully. “We are!”

Purdue’s face froze in reverence and awe. Sully stepped closer and laid his hand on the explorer’s shoulder. “The guardians of the Lost City are everywhere, David. From tribal chiefs to housewives. Everywhere, from Iceland to Oz, there are people who know about the Lost City — this Lost City. It is not made of gold, because the treasure it holds is not a precious metal or riches.”

Herman tapped on his temple with the tip of his index finger. “It’s knowledge, terrible knowledge. Before you get a hard-on, genius, you have to understand that this is not the knowledge you want.”

Sully agreed with a silent “Uh-uh. And its name has deceived men for ages, mate. All for the wicked treasure of knowledge.”

Herman’s face was fraught with desperation. “Please, David, this is the kind of knowledge mankind does not need. It is bad knowledge that will destroy the world, because man does not know what to do with power.”

Purdue light blue eyes penetrated Herman’s as he took in the man’s words. “Like the knowledge given to Eve in Eden.”

“That is an accurate view of it, yes,” Herman affirmed. “For once, let mankind turn away from that apple, David. We know why you came here, Relic Hunter. Your mind is powerful and you need to feed it with information, but that genius of yours is nothing without the wisdom to know when to refuse the apple.”

Purdue was at a crossroads, mentally, but as always, his need to pursue the unknown soon overrode his common sense. He glanced at the collection of ancient markers that warned in silence of the evil black soiled mine, and proceeded up the hill.

Inside the farmhouse, it took Nina and Sam all of 10 minutes to find a small office adjacent to the master bedroom.

“Are you filming?” she asked Sam.

“No, just keeping the scene framed so that I can hit record as soon as we find something worth filming,” he answered, aiming down on Nina’s jeans. “However, that arse might be well worth filming.”

Nina slapped his upper arm so hard that he lost his balance for a moment. “Do your bloody job, Cleave,” she smiled. “Can I use one of your voice recorders to dictate what I find?”

Sam handed her a small tape recorder that looked like it fell out of a time machine.

“Look, Mr. Harding was using this office space as a walk-in closet,” he remarked as Nina pulled down on the thin string of the light switch. All about them clothing and shoes were strewn. They navigated over the small piles of laundry, enclosed by walls lined with old, peeling wallpaper that smelled like a tomb. Mold and cobwebs sat in the corners where the walls met the ceiling. Wincing, the two explorers traversed the small room to the desk against the opposing wall to inspect papers scattered across its surface.

Nina dusted off the chair and sat down, while Sam filmed the dreadful structural decay of the room. “Jesus, this room is creepy,” he mumbled as he panned across the skirting of the room.

“Aye,” she agreed, scanning the various documents. “If these bills did not kill him, the mold and rot in this house would.”

Sam turned to look at Nina through his lens. “Lots of debt?”

“Aye, by the looks of this, Mr. Harding inherited this farm just in time. The bank was about to foreclose on his own farm within weeks from when he inherited this one from Dr. Williams,” she reported as she took up several papers and dropped them again. “Even his wife’s funeral was done on account. He had no policies or insurance at all. Poor man. I venture to guess that he did not go up to the mine for a tractor, Sam.”

“He was looking for the Lost City, thinking it was an El Dorado deal,” Sam added onto her speculation. “Everyone knows there is gold up there, but he probably thought he could tap the ores with only Gary helping him.”

“That’s the epitome of desperation,” she said in an empathetic tone. With care not to disturb too much of the dust and spores no doubt accumulated in the fabric and furniture, she opened the only drawer on the desk. “Bingo.”

Sam swerved the lens to the drawer. “Are you filming?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“You should,” she suggested. “Look at this. It is the deed to Nekenhalle. Attached to it is an envelope with a blueprint of the house, as well as contour lines noted on a basic map of the place.”

“Alright, so why do I need to film this?” Sam asked. Nina grinned and lifted the blueprint up to him.

“Zoom in,” she said. He did and instantly noticed what she was referring to.

“Holy shit,” Sam gasped. “Is that an alternative entrance to the Lost City, lying under this little room?”

“Looks like it,” she affirmed. Nina took a deep breath, her pretty features twisted in grave concern. “But if you cross reference the map of the exterior of this house, Sam, the mine is completely separated from the Lost City lying under us!”

Sensing his friend’s panic, Sam tried to ascertain what she was trying to impress on him. Nina could see that Sam did not quite fathom her anxiety. “Sam,” she gulped, “the mine is a decoy, luring men in after the promise of gold. It is in no form part of the Lost City, and only someone who understands the discrepancy in the geology of the notes left by Dr. Williams will be able to put this together. I don’t think Mr. Harding had any clue what this information meant!”

“So, the mine is a trap for greedy men to take them to task? Is that what you are saying?” Sam frowned, filming every word the dark eyed historian revealed.

“So to speak,” she panted. “Sam, you have to go and get Purdue the fuck out of there right now! The mine is nothing but a snake pit!”

Without a response, Sam turned and bolted through the old deserted house to rescue Purdue. Stumbling over loose floorboards and slamming into corners he could not turn at the speed he was rushing, Sam eventually made it out of the house and into the merciless weather outside. Sully and Herman were in the woods, looking for the lost farmer among the markers.

“Purdue!” Sam shouted in sheer panic as he slipped and slid along the muddy black gravel. “Purdue! Get out of there right now! It is not the Lost City! Get out!”

The Harding brothers and Eddie Olden peeked from the darkness to see what the commotion was about. All they could see through the deafening thunder and veil of rain, was the Scottish journalist waving his arms madly.

From the woods, the elders came out to Sam, who was trying to get up the hill.

“Leave it, mate! He made his choice,” Sully told Sam. “They all did.”

“Are you daft? I have to warn him! Why didn’t you warn him? Why?” he screamed at the two native men.

“We did!” Herman defended. “We told him to stay away from the mine, a few times over, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“You could not just have told him that the mine is not the way to the Lost City? That would have kept him out!” Sam seethed, his clenched teeth gleaming white between his wet, open lips. His black hair was drenched and clung to his wet face. Under his shirt, he kept the compact HD running.

“What do you mean; it is not the entrance to the Lost City?” Herman scowled. “This has been the site of the Lost City for centuries, mate.”

“Yes, the site of it, but not the entrance!” Sam explained, realizing at once that the elders knew as little as he did about the deceit. “The Lost City lies under the house, under the entire farm! It stretches the entire width and length of Nekenhalle, but it does not exceed the surface of the house’s ground floor.” Sam pointed to the flat ground where the vehicles stood, way below the slant of the hill. “Everything higher than that ground level is fake! This is just a decoy!”

Purdue had emerged from the black chasm as Sam was elucidating the facts, standing alongside the dumbstruck Olden, Anaru, and the Hardings. Sam saw his tall friend step out, Purdue’s white crown drawing his attention through the pouring rain. “Purdue! Get the fuck out of the mouth of the mine!”

“Yes, I heard. I heard,” Purdue replied casually. Sam was relieved that he got to them on time, having no idea that Louisa was still inside, trying to find the monstrous specimen she was hired to retrieve for the Order of the Black Sun.