Primordia_In Search of the Lost World Read online

  “Hasn’t changed a bit.” Ben looked up at the neon sign, still glowing cherry red with an image of sauce-laden ribs on a plate. Through the windows, he saw a few family diners and a group of younger people gathered at one end of the bar.

  The door squeaked as he held it open, and she led him over to the group.

  “Get outta town, it’s true.” A slim, stubbled young Asian man stepped out, grinning widely. He wore casual, but expensive clothing.

  Ben returned the smile. “Mr. Daniel Murakami; you still here?” They embraced and then others swarmed around.

  “Nah, I come back from time to time; you should too, buddy. Long time no see,” Murakami chided.

  “He’s slumming it.” Another hand slapped his shoulder and Ben turned. The blond man was lantern-jawed, as broad as Ben, and had an easy smile. “Welcome back, big guy.” He stuck out a large hand.

  “Steve,” Ben scoffed with a grin. Steven Chamber’s hand felt like wood and leather. He turned seeing another member of his old crew.

  There was Andrea Ashley, still as intensely beautiful as she was at school. He distantly remembered that she headed off to Hollywood to find her future. He doubted she was now back in Greenberry just to see him.

  “Andrea.” He smiled, and she looked back at him with an appraising eye before stepping in to hug him, and then continue hugging him.

  “Jesus, someone throw a bucket of water over them.” Steve jammed a bottle of beer between them and another into Emma’s hand as she also wedged herself in front of Andrea.

  Steve then held his own beer aloft. “To the return of all prodigal sons and daughters – saludo!”

  “Saludo!” Bottles and glasses were raised and then clinked together.

  They spent the next few hours catching up, talking crap, laughing too loud, followed it with ribs and more beer, before finally settling at a corner table to finish with coffee and whisky.

  “Bummer about your dad, Ben. He was a good guy.” Steve gave him a glum smile.

  “Yeah, thanks. Mom’s still a little messed up.” Ben continued to stare at his coffee.

  “And will be for a while; but she’ll be okay,” Emma said. “Those guys come from tougher stock than us.”

  Andrea reached forward to lay a hand over his. “It’s good that you came back to support her. Are you staying?”

  Ben saw Emma’s lips compress. For some reason, he felt flattered. He patted her hand and then slid his out. “Only for a while. Thought I might try and finish my veterinary studies. Then settle down somewhere…for good.”

  “You? A vet?” Dan comically widened his eyes and then grinned. “Suppose it’ll be good to use your brains rather than just brawn for a change.”

  “Aw, thanks, buddy.” Ben grinned back. “I’ll make a fortune off rich guys like you; I hear they have houses full of fluffy little dogs.”

  Dan nodded and raised his brandy. “And peacocks; don’t forget the peacocks.”

  “Hey, Greenberry needs vets too, you know?’ Emma raised her coffee.

  “Do they now?” Ben smiled at her.

  “So I guess right now you’re helping your mom; anything we can do, just let us know,” Steve Chambers said.

  “Thanks, buddy.” Ben looked into his coffee for a moment. “Right now, I’m just getting all Dad’s things squared away. I’ve been picking over the Cartwright ancestor history in the attic.” He snorted. “Hey, want to know something cool? Did you know my great, great grandfather was a friend of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle? I even found a first edition copy of a book, 1912, still wrapped in paper – was never even opened.”

  “Very cool; which one?” Emma asked.

  “The Lost World,” Ben replied.

  “No way! That’s one of my favorites; I read it as a kid.” She turned to the group. “It’s where these explorers find a hidden mountain covered in dinosaurs.”

  “Something like that.” Ben leaned forward. “But you want to know something really weird?”

  “Always,” said Dan, leaning closer.

  “What if it was true?” Ben looked up.

  “Say what?” Steve’s forehead creased.

  “Oh, Ben.” Emma started to giggle.

  “No more whisky here.” Dan grinned as he shouted to the bar.

  “Hear me out.” Ben cleared his throat. “What if it was true? Seriously, what if it was all true? What if it was never make-believe at all, and that the Lost World was real? Sir Arthur Conan Doyle didn’t make it all up. I believe he was reading about a lost expedition that really happened.”

  The group just stared. Emma’s cheeks reddened slightly.

  “I found out that my great, great grandfather, Benjamin, actually went to South America and found something amazing.” He opened his hands on the table. “And Arthur Conan Doyle used it as the basis for his story.”

  “I believe you, or want to,” Steve said, with a hint of a smile. “But, ah, how do you know that? Know that it’s true, I mean?”

  “Benjamin wrote it all down in a notebook; in 1908.” Ben sat back.

  The looks went from disbelievingly to quizzical.

  “Wait a minute here. You have a notebook that proves all this?” Dan blew air between his lips. “Now, I’m really interested.”

  “Can we see it?” Andrea asked.

  “Well…” Ben grimaced.

  “Here it comes.” Steve grinned again.

  “I don’t have it.” Ben sighed. “Apparently, Benjamin sent it to Arthur Conan Doyle, and then according to some old correspondence, when Doyle learned that Ben the 1st had passed away, he kept it, and then hid it somewhere on his estate so it wouldn’t be lost.”

  “You mean like it is now,” Dan said. “Good plan.”

  Ben then spent the next few minutes giving them a thumbnail overview of what he’d found out. The group was spellbound, especially Dan, who seemed to fully suspend his disbelief and had moved to the very edge of his seat.

  When he was finished, Ben sat back. “All I have is a letter from a lawyer verifying that the notebook exists and belongs to me, or at least to one of Benjamin’s heirs.”

  Ben sprang forward. “Oh, one more thing; apparently this place in the Amazon can only be found during some sort of weird seasonal thing that only happens once every ten years. And the next year it can be located is…” he held up a finger for a moment, before jabbing it down on the table. “…now, in 2018. In fact, we probably missed it; the window for locating it is in just a few weeks.”

  Dan clapped. “Oh man, that is awesome.”

  “That notebook’s got to be worth a fortune…if you could ever find it,” Steve said.

  “As long as the notebook hasn’t been destroyed, then anything lost can be found.” Dan waved over his shoulder, calling the waitress for more drinks. He then pulled his chair so close his chest bumped the table. “And forget selling it; the value is in its secrets. And by the way, Ben, we haven’t missed anything yet. I say, we need to find the notebook, find this place, and then go there.”

  “Nah, gone now,” Ben said. “Wouldn’t even know where to look.”

  “Is it? Gone, I mean.” Andrea tilted her head. “I’ve never heard of this notebook or whatever it is coming to light. Have any of you?” She then looked at each of them for a moment before turning back to Ben. “So it might still be hidden. Maybe it’s still hidden there. I bet he left clues. So the million dollar question is, where is there?”

  Ben bobbed his head. “In some sort of secret place that only both of them knew.” He sighed.

  “That’s it?” Andrea frowned.

  “Well, he mentioned it being under the earth in Windlesham Manor.” He hiked his shoulders. “So, buried somewhere there, I guess. If it exists, and if it hasn’t already been found or inadvertently destroyed by the elements.”

  Dan put his hands to his head. “Bullshit.” He slapped a hand on the table. “Think positive, man. I say it’s still there somewhere. We can find it. We use science and technology. Like I said, we find it
, and then we go there.”

  Ben chuckled and lifted his glass. “Not the whisky talking at all.”

  “Why not?” Dan implored, his almond eyes now wide. “This is the most exciting and interesting thing I’ve heard of in years.” He turned. “Guys, what do you think?”

  “In England, right?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “We’ll just all pop over to England, each of us with a shovel on our shoulders, and start digging. I hear they like Yanks doing stuff like that.”

  Dan laughed out loud. “No, smartass, with a little more investigative finesse than that. I can’t believe you don’t see this as the biggest and most exciting opportunity, like ever.” Dan rubbed his hands together, looking like he was warming to his own idea. “I’ll even pay…for everyone.”

  “Well, I’d go.” Emma straightened.

  “Me too,” Andrea added.

  “Now wait a minute.” Ben couldn’t believe how fast this was getting out of hand. “To the United Kingdom? Jesus Christ.”

  “Yeah, to start. I mean, the whole shebang – we go and look for this hidden jungle as well.” Dan rubbed his chin. “Windlesham Manor, you say? Tell you what, by morning, I’ll know everything there is to know about it. I’ll have some of my guys do a full search.” He grinned. “I smell a plan coming together.”

  “Good grief.” Ben shook his head, but couldn’t help being swept along by Dan’s excitement. “Guys, maybe Dan is keen to waste his money and time, but we should think about this. It could all be a wild goose chase…and a deadly one at that. As I mentioned, the book might be nothing of interest, or it might already be found.”

  “You’re right.” Dan eased back in his chair. “And I can find that out as well. I’ll have two-dozen tech guys on it in 20 minutes; we’ll put a search out on the networks, and even the dark web. The traders, collectors, and even the black marketeers would know if something like that has ever come to light.” He grinned. “Let’s rustle a few bushes and see what we scare up.”

  “And tell everyone we’re looking for it.” Emma frowned. “Is that a good thing?’

  “So what?” Dan said. “Like Ben mentioned; most people don’t know, don’t care, or have long forgotten.” He held a finger aloft. “We’ll also need an in for Windlesham Manor.”

  “I know someone who lives over there.” Steve opened his arms. “An English girl, zoologist; she might help us.”

  “Done and done.” Dan slapped the table.

  Emma and Steve high-fived and Andrea leaned across to hug him.

  “Meet back here for breakfast at 9am, and I’ll tell you what I’ve learned.” Dan stood, pushing his chair back and pulling his phone at the same time. He jammed it to his ear, talking rapidly as he headed for the door.

  Ben sat with an open mouth grin. “What just happened here?”

  Emma sniggered. “I think we just got Murakami’d.”

  *****

  Later, pulling up out front of his house, Emma switched off the engine and turned in her seat.

  “So, do you think any of it is true? I mean, really?”

  “Yes, no…maybe.” He grinned. “Could the notebook have existed? Yeah, I think it probably did at one time. But seriously, a hidden plateau where monsters lived? Come on.”

  Emma rested her chin on the seat watching him. Ben smiled at her as he went on.

  “Remember, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was a fiction writer. Maybe there was something Benjamin found that was fantastic. But back in 1908, a lot of things were being discovered and probably seemed fantastic. I’m pretty sure that all the rest came straight from Doyle’s imagination.”

  “Well, you know what I think?” She smiled, her eyes almost glowing. “There’s only one way to truly find out…find that mysterious notebook.” She rested her chin on her hand. “Besides, the only thing we’ve got to lose is time. If there’s no notebook, then at a minimum we’ll all get a nice holiday out of it. Be good for the old gang to hang out again.”

  “And if there is a notebook?” He looked deep into her beautiful eyes.

  “Then it could solve one of your family’s greatest mysteries. And just think; it might even lead to an adventure none of us will ever forget. You’ll be famous.”

  “I don’t want to be famous.” Ben put a hand on the door handle and began to turn away but paused. “But I do like the sound of hanging out with the old gang again. Didn’t realize how much I missed you all.”

  Ben felt her hand on his arm and he turned back. She leaned forward to kiss his cheek, but managed to catch the side of his mouth. He felt a tingle run all the way through him.

  “Did I say you all? I meant, just you.” He lifted a hand to her chin and kissed her on the lips.

  They sat back, staring at each other for a moment. “Um, would you like to come in, for a…coffee?”

  Emma smiled at him from under lowered brows. “Not tonight.” She put a hand over his. “I like being with you, just you, too. Please say yes to the trip.”

  He groaned theatrically. “Oh, maybe.”

  He went to turn away again, but she grabbed his shoulder. “Ben-nnn.”

  He groaned louder. “Oh, okay.” And pushed the door fully open with a scream of rusting hinges.

  “Yay! See you tomorrow; 9am – sharp.”

  CHAPTER 03

  1948 – South Eastern Venezuela – the Wettest Season Returns

  The hurricane-like winds had died down and an armor-plated Ankylosaurus raised a dull expression skyward for a moment, seeing the clouds part to let rays of brilliant sunshine in through the hole that was widening above its jungle.

  The creature was 18 feet in length, weighed in at around 4,000 pounds, and was heavily armored with a horned beak-like mouth. As well as its plated hide, its armory also included a tail that ended in a club of solid, dense bone that it used to great effect on any overly interested predators. It wasn’t invulnerable to attack, but rarely did the carnivores of the land bother it.

  The lumbering beast pulled at the hard grasses, chewing down great clumps, grinding them up with its fist-sized molars, and then moving on to the next. Its path led it towards two tree trunks only six feet apart, and rather than go around, it wedged its huge bulk between them and relied on its powerful stump-like legs to pull it through.

  The tree trunks and canopies shook, and from above rained down hundreds, possibly thousands, of spindly red ants in defense of their nest. The inch-long insects had spikes on their heads that resembled horned helmets, and upon alighting on the body of the perceived threat to their colony, they immediately commenced their attack.

  Formic acid was injected, magnifying the pain from the countless bites, and then the insects began to swarm towards the head where they had learned that the massive, thick-hided beasts were vulnerable. They quickly found the tiny eyes, ears, nostrils, and also the soft inner tissue in the mouth.

  The Ankylosaurus screamed with fear and pain and charged forward. Its bulk smashed trees from its path, and its cries reverberated through the jungle, silencing the other chattering, skittering, and squealing inhabitants. Winged creatures took flight above it as it found a watercourse and charged along it.

  It was nearly blind when it entered the stream, washing away many of the insects, but the damage was already done. Fear and pain maddened, it blundered on.

  Nothing seemed able to stop it, until the impact from above drove it to its knees as something grabbed its neck and shoulders. The grip was large, and the Ankylosaurus felt the scrape of sharp teeth across its armor-plated back.

  The teeth couldn’t hope to penetrate its hide, but the grip of the jaws was strong enough to hold it in place. The dinosaur got back to its feet and began to lumber on. But then more of the thing that held it piled down on top of it and started to loop around and under, eventually completely enfolding it.

  Once done, the constricting began. Titanic muscles compressed, and then unbelievably, the armor-plated hide began to buckle and crack. The plant eater bleated its fear, but when it did, precious a
ir escaped from squeezed lungs that it could never hope to recover.

  A rib broke, and then another, and then its entire chest collapsed as its body was slowly pulverized. Only then did the mouth’s grip on its back shift towards the Ankylosaurus’ head. The long, fanged mouth opened, stretched, and then inched forward, beginning the swallowing process.

  As the dinosaur’s head and shoulders were fed into the maw, the coils gave one more mighty squeeze and the great beast’s heart finally exploded.

  CHAPTER 04

  Edward Barlow’s phone buzzed on the top of his Brobdingnagian-sized, antique oak desk. The cavernous hunting room he was working in had been tomb silent save for the deep ticking of a seven-foot-tall grandfather clock in the corner.

  Along each of the room’s walls, mounted heads watched with wild-eyed but eternal glassine stares, and a monstrous polar bear reared up, jaws gaping and paws aloft as if to tear any unwary passerby limb from limb.

  Barlow was a hunter. Or rather a collector, and one of the idle rich whose family had left him billions from a mining business he had no interest in. But what he was interested in was sport shooting, and the more elusive, dangerous, or rare the specimen, the more he would seek them out.

  Barlow’s great, great uncle had been Douglas Baxter, and he had heard the family stories of his ill-fated expedition with Benjamin Cartwright, and the rumors of them setting off to find a secret place inhabited by fantastical creatures never before seen by modern man.

  No matter how much he invested or how much time he spent, he could never find any clue as to where to look or even where to begin to look. He had scoured the Amazon and had even paid a small fortune for satellite images. But in the land of the Boraro, the South American demons, his searches had come to a dead end.

  Barlow had always suspected that there was something he was missing or misreading – the clues, the place, or maybe even the timing. He remembered that Douglas Baxter related a sense of urgency about dates and needing to be down in the Amazon during a certain time – rainy season, eclipse, breeding cycles – he never found out exactly what.