The Crypts of Eden

CHAPTER ONE

Alyssa Moore was petite and athletic with strong arms and legs from years of plying her trade by swinging pickaxes and lifting spades of dirt at archeological dig sites. With raven hair, almond-shaped eyes and cocoa skin that she inherited from her Filipina mother, the only disposition that she inherited from her father was his ambitions. By the time she was twenty-six she was a senior archeologist with New York’s Archeological Institute of Ancient Antiquities, the AIAA, which happened to be a venue managed by her father, the inimitable Professor John Moore.

As a representative from the AIAA and working on behalf of the German Archaeological Institute of Istanbul, she was taking digital photographs of bas-relief carvings along stone pillars belonging to the ancient temple of Göbekli Tepe, the amphitheater of the oldest known civilization dating back 12,000 years.

In 1995, an archaeologist by the name of Klaus Schmidt began to excavate the hillside he considered to be an unnatural feature in the landscape, and ended up unearthing T-shaped pillars that surrounded twenty rounded structures. What was so startling was that the limestone columns were created from tools of Neolithic times, most exclusively by primitive flint points. Further examination of the site — that were suggested by layers of stratification — clearly revealed that several millennium of activity had taken place as far back as the Mesolithic period some 12,000 years before, which is 8,000 years before the Greeks and Egyptians had set the standards of creating the first civilizations.

But Göbekli Tepe changed all that, becoming man’s new cradle of societal development.

Alyssa took photos from every angle of a carved relief of a lizard projecting out from the pillar. Its head was looking downward, a large tail curling around its body. It was one of several depictions of animals such as boars, snakes, foxes, lizards and bears — indications that Göbekli Tepe was at one time surrounded by lush landscaping capable of preserving such fauna more than twelve thousand years ago.

When she was done she traced the figure of the lizard with her fingertips. For whatever reason, it was the main figure on the pillars. It was also depicted in pictograms and cuneiforms along the temple walls.

“Ms. Alyssa.”

Noah Wainscot was a British archeologist formerly of the Royal Archaeological Institute of Great Britain, and now a senior member of the AIAA going on his fifteenth year. Normally he was a man of high cheer always portending that this would be ‘the day’ that would bring something wondrous in that ‘one true discovery’ that would put the AIAA over the top, always the voice of hope.

But today he appeared grim.

“Ms. Alyssa, have you a moment?”

She immediately read his face; saw the depressing features instead of the laugh lines that often bracketed his mouth. “For you, Noah, I have all the time in the world. Why? What’s up?”

“Allow me to say that Mr. Montario is back from the expedition.”

“Is he all right?”

“He’s fine,” he told her. “He’s somewhat dehydrated, is all.”

She picked up the tension in his voice. “Where is he?”

The senior archeologist hesitated a moment before answering, as if searching for the right words. “I’m afraid there’s some bad news,” he said. “Mr. Montario would like a word with you.”

“About?”

Noah shifted from one foot to the other, obviously uncomfortable. He was as old as her father, sixty-two — a supportive colleague who was every bit as paternal towards her as her father was. He was kind and gentle, and spoke and acted with aristocracy even though there was no trace of nobility coursing through his veins.

And then her face fell with the looseness of a rubber mask. “It’s about my father, isn’t it?

Did something happen to him?”

“Please, Ms. Alyssa, all I can say is this: you must be prepared,” he said, pulling her into an embrace. “I’m afraid what you’re about to hear is not going to be good news.”

She pressed her face against his shoulder and, smelling the sweat of his labors, wept.

By the time Alyssa arrived at the hospital, Montario was sitting on the edge of the exam table. His face was red and raw with the skin of his nose and cheeks either blistering or peeling back. His lips were cracked and swollen, the thin slices on his lips appearing as razor cuts.

The moment he saw Alyssa, he attempted a smile but when he parted his lips his pain became electric, the sudden shock forcing his smile into a tight grimace.

“Montario.” Alyssa crossed the distance between them with her hand out for him to grab. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired,” he told her. “The doctor said I’ll be fine — just a little dehydrated, that’s all. They gave me some saline to pump me up.”

They embraced; then pulled back and measured each other with hangdog looks.

In a tone mired in sadness, Montario said, “I’m sorry, Alyssa. I’m sorry about your dad.”

Her chin began to quiver. “How…” It was all she could manage.

Montario looked painfully awkward. How do you tell someone that her father had become the victim of something much higher on the food chain than he was?

“Montario, what happened to my father?”

For a moment he stood as still as a Grecian statue.

She studied him with keen appraisal, wondering if the hospital garment he wore was too large and made him look small, or if he was simply wasting away as the sharpness of his facial features suggested. Were the points of his shoulders the result of his body becoming thin and emaciated by what happened? Whatever the case, Montario appeared to have shrunk since she’d last seen him, which was only days ago.

He slid back onto the exam table. “Your father,” he began, “found what he believed to be Eden… but discovered it to be so much more.

“It is a place you couldn’t even begin to imagine,” he told her. “It is totally surreal. At first everything was fine. And then we began to hear strange noises and ticks, a metered tapping coming from the shadows. When the tapping stopped and nothing happened, we moved on. It remained that way until the second night. By this time we were deep inside the temple.” He cast his sight to the floor, unable to look her in the eyes. “Because it was late, we all went to sleep with the exception of your father. He was keyed up like always. So he took a lamp and went deeper into the tunnels where he came upon what he called a Central Chamber. Inside he found something incredible.”

“Like what?”

“Depictions of crypts,” he answered. “He said the pictograms answered any and all doubts about the true nature of Eden. He said that it’s a cold, dark place that was nothing like any of the religious texts make it out to be.”

“Eden was written as a metaphor to teach lessons,” she told him. “It wasn’t really considered to be a civilization of historical significance.”

Montario continued. “The night your father went into the Central Chamber, he told me that he didn’t think he was alone. He thought that there was something in there with him, something watching very closely.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There is this… thing. We never knew what it was because we only saw glimpses of it. But within hours, while we slept, it began picking us off one by one. At first it took those farthest from the light, dragging them into shadows. Their screams woke us up so we banded together, keeping our lamps close. But no matter what we did, it just kept coming — just snatching people right out of the circle of light, and then dragging them off to some obscure niche. Even now I can hear their cries.” He looked at her forlornly. “I don’t think I’ll ever get them out of my head.” And then he closed his eyes, making her wonder if he was hearing them at this moment.

And then: “When your father and I were the only two left,” he added, “this thing shadowed us, letting us know it was there by ticking its claws against the floor, telling us it was close, that it was watching. And when your father and I finally saw the way out, when we got close to the exit, it was then that it came out of the shadows and took him.”

As much as she had tried to prepare herself, her eyes glassed over. The sting was too painful, the truth a stab wound to the heart, the sudden weight on her shoulders even too heavy for Atlas to bear. She closed her eyes and fell into Montario, who pulled her close.

“I’m sorry, Alyssa. He was a good man. And be assured that when he left us, he did so only after finding the one thing he had spent his entire life looking for — even when no believed him. He ended up proving everybody wrong.”

She pulled back as tears lined her cheeks, looking lost and proud at the same time.

Montario, however, never mentioned her father’s black book.

Though she did not know of Eden’s exact location, Alyssa had seen her father’s aerial photographs of a geographical anomaly in southeast Turkey. It was a barren area, a harsh terrain of sand and stone, and one of the three locations her father considered to be the actual area of Eden after following the blueprints of religious texts.

“Unless we can prove what he found,” she finally said, “then he died for nothing.”

He looked at her for a long moment, studied the beauty of her face and her pixie-like features. “I’m not going back there, if that’s what you’re alluding to.”

“Montario, you loved my father as much as he loved you. We can’t allow his findings to go without further examination. You know that. None of what you tell me means anything unless we can confirm it. Otherwise, it’s nothing more than tabloid fodder about an old man pursuing a myth. Now you might have been to a place that may or may not have been Eden,” she continued, “but I’m not about to let my father’s rep become front page news for a rag paper. I need you to show me the way.”

“I don’t have to show you anything,” he returned testily. “And don’t use how I feel about your father as a weapon to guilt me into a trip I don’t want to make. I’ve been there, Alyssa. I know how dangerous it can be.”

“My father wasn’t prepared for danger,” she returned. “But we will be.”

“There is no preparation for this,” he told her. “Your father, God bless his soul, would never forgive me for putting you in jeopardy.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she stated emphatically. “Sometimes in the pursuit of factual evidence, risks have to be taken. He always said that, Montario. You know that.”

“Sometimes,” he emphasized. “You just said it yourself. Sometimes is the keyword here. He didn’t say always. He didn’t say at all times. He said sometimes. All I can tell you is that some places were never meant to be found.” And then after a slight pause: “And Eden is one such place.”

“Montario, please.”

“There’s no way in hell I’m going back there,” he told her. “There’s no way.”

He could see the annoyance in her face, the pulsating Y-vein throbbing against her forehead, which was something that always happened when she got flustered.

“Then tell me the coordinates.”

He refused.

“Montario, please, I'm begging you. Tell me the coordinates.”

“Alyssa, some things were never meant to be found,” he said softly. “Please let it go.”

She made a noise of frustration, which was soon followed by a stomp of her foot.

“Look,” Montario began. “Whether it is or isn’t what your father believes this place to be, it’s not worth risking your life over. OK? I’m not going down that road, Alyssa. Not again. And there’s no way I’m allowing you to do so, either.”

“If I have to, Montario, and you know I will, I’ll do this without you, and you know I will.” She turned to leave.

“Alyssa?” He called after her in imploring manner.

She stopped with her back to him.

“The reason I’m doing this is because if you follow through with this expedition, I don’t want to be responsible should anything bad happen to you. You know I’d be devastated if you were hurt.”

Her shoulders dropped slowly. “Why won’t you ever let me be angry with you?” she asked. And then: “But as angry as I am with you — you know I love you, right?”

The edges of his lips lifted faintly. “Like a brother,” he answered evenly.

She nodded. “Like a brother. But you know I can’t let this go, either. You said so yourself, Montario. He may have died finding what he’d been looking for all his life, proving his colleagues wrong. But until I can verify his finding, then my father has proved nothing.” She looked at him with features that were kinder and softer. “You know I have to do this,” she told him. “You know it’s what my father would want.”

“This time, I’m not so sure,” he advised. “Not after what I saw. And if something should happen to you, then I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I could have stopped you. Now with your father gone, you’re all I’ve got. Please understand that. If it is Eden, just let it go.”

“If it is Eden, then the world has to know.”

Montario stared at her, wanting to smile but couldn’t. “You’re so much like your father,” he finally said.

She feigned a smile. “If there’s a legend to be had, then it’ll be his. My father deserves this.”

He couldn’t deny her sentiment or fortitude regarding the love of her father. “Then you take care of yourself,” he told her, his voice starting to crack. “And be careful.”

She took a step closer. “And what about you, Montario? What are your plans?”

“Me? I’m going back to New York,” he told her, “to finish up with my studies at NYU.”

She looked at him as a brief moment of silence passed between them. And then she laid a hand on his forearm and stroked it gently. “You know I’ll find this place,” she said calmly. “You know I’ll find Eden.”

He sighed. “I know,” he told her flatly. “I just wish you wouldn’t.”

A moment of time passed between them as they stood diametrically opposite from one another; one possessing the conviction to find Eden, the other content with knowing what was inside and having the presence of mind to leave it alone.

In an instant, they embraced as the anger and disagreements between them bled themselves dry. Even though he confessed to love her as a brother, the truth was that he loved her fully and deeply. Alyssa Moore had always been his first thought in the morning when he woke, and his last thought at night when he went to bed.

His passion was too great for him to admit.

When they pulled apart and looked at each other, he wanted to tell her about his underlying emotions. But he could not find the courage to do so.

“I got to go,” she said finally.

He smiled in return, hating himself for feeling so awkward about his feelings. When she left, he allowed his shoulders to drop. At least he had not given her the black book, he told himself. He was sure somewhere within its encryptions lay the coordinates Alyssa wanted. He was justifying his actions as championing a cause that would ultimately save her life. Without the book, she would not have a directional blueprint to follow. And she would be safe.

But if there was one thing about Alyssa Moore, he thought, it was that she was dogged by nature. Although she may have been rendered petite in stature, the fight in her was incredible.

So he prayed that her father had hidden his secrets well — as he was prone to do.

But if he had not, then he would guard the secrets of the book.

He turned to the closet that held a baggie containing his clothes and personal items. Inside was the black book which he would take to New York.

After all, he considered, some places were never meant to be found.

And in this case, he was spot on.