The Great Thirst One: Prepared: The Great Thirst: An Archaeological Mystery Serial, #1

By Mary C. Findley

Small town science teacher Keith Bradley climbs into a red Tesla with English teacher Talia Ramin for the field trip of a lifetime. At stake is a missing copy of the Scriptures on gold tablets. At risk is the trust of an ancient order sworn to keep the tablets safe. 
Talia's archaeologist aunt and uncle may have lost their last clue to artifact thieves. A government ultimatum might undo every lesson they have taught their students about keeping the Word safe. 

"What are you saying? We're supposed to take the kids' Bibles away from them?" 
"There's no need to be defensive. We want materials from everyone in the community. This will become a resource for all time. These insights will become global and eternal." 
Talia asked, "People don't have to give us their Bibles, do they?" 
"This program fails if it doesn't accomplish the critical goal of gathering all the possible data." 
"What exactly do you mean by 'this program fails'?" 
Doctor Williams said, "It doesn't qualify for the grants." 
"You mean we lose everything from implementing the Bible as Literature program?" 
"Are your Bible studies secret? Why does sharing them with the world disturb you? Are you that selfish?" 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Findley Family Video
• Release date: May 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513041018

Mary C. Findley

Mary grew up in rural NY and Michael is from AZ. We met at college, taught school in AZ, MO and PA, homeschooled, and created curriculum and videos for church and commercial productions. We have three supposedly grown children and traveled the 48 states and Canada together in a tractor trailer.Findley Family Video Publications has the key verse “Speaking the Truth in Love” from Ephesians 4:15. We have four main goals:To Present a Biblical WorldviewTo Exalt the Lord Jesus ChristTo Edify BelieversTo Teach and to DelightMichael J. Findley has been on the road most of his life and his writings reflect that motion. From the rise of the ancient Hittite Empire to a generational saga of a Space Empire, the one constant is his desire to communicate the truth of God's Word through fiction and nonfiction. Homeschoolers, church leaders, and ordinary believers who want to go deeper into the Word and reach higher to put God in the exalted place where He belongs will find many answers here.They say write what you know. Mary C. Findley has poured her real life into her writing -- From the cover designs inspired by her lifelong art studies to the love of pets and country life that worm their way into her historicals. The never-say-die heroes in her twenty-some fiction works are inspired by her husband, a crazy smart man with whom she co-writes science and history-based nonfiction. These works were jump-started by a deep awareness of the dangers in our future if we don't understand ideological enemies rooted in the past. She's a strong believer in helping others and also has books about publishing advice and the need to have strong standards in reading and writing.She has traveled internationally and around the lower 48 and Canada multiple times. Anecdotes from her small town life, college experiences, European, Canadian, and south-of-the border travels, as well as adventures as shotgun rider in a tractor trailer fill her contemporary works. She has also donned the cloak of alt-Victorian adventuress as Sophronia Belle Lyon, steampunk writer with her own League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (and ladies) from the great 1800s novelists. In all her works you will find faith, family, friendship and fulfilling stories. Do come have a look!

Book preview

Chapter One – Mr. Safety

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Hey! Keith Bradley shouted. No cars in the bus lot, and what kind of car is that, anyway?

Keith waved off an incredibly red and shiny thing that didn’t seem to make any noise at all as it tried to slide past him into the bus lot at Bradley Central School on Tuesday morning, the first day of the new school year.

Oh, no! The bus lot? I feel like such a doofus. The driver pulled over to the curb and rolled down her passenger window. It's a Tesla.

She was even more incredible than the car. Her highlighted brown hair framed a face that looked about sixteen and she pulled off some designer sunglasses that didn’t look like knockoffs.

A whatsla? An eighth-grader, Jermaine Tufo, gawked around Keith’s shoulder.

A Tesla? Keith repeated. You’re kidding me, right? As in, the most awesome electric car ever made? Are you a new student?

Student? Are you hitting on me, kid? I’m the new English Lit teacher. Ms. Ramin to you.

You? A teacher? Jermaine asked.

Keith pushed him toward the building and pointed him in the direction of the side doors. Cafeteria, Jermaine, until 07:50. You know the rules.

Jermaine ambled off.

I’m a teacher, too, Keith said. Keith Bradley, science. The car parking is up at the other end of the building.

Oh, I'm so sorry. Thanks. Ms. Ramin pulled a tight U-turn right in front of the last arriving bus. The car buzzed away.

Yeah, buzzed, Keith repeated to himself for emphasis. A Tesla? That’s like a $100,000 car, minimum!

Keith had somehow been pegged as Mr. Safety since junior high, when he’d made the mistake of thinking it was a big honor to be appointed to the Junior Safety Patrol. Twelve years later he was the science teacher at Bradley Central. The building had been renamed in honor of his late principal grandfather. Keith still stood out in the parking lot, breathing diesel, shouting at kids to get on the right bus or get out of the way of –

Who was that crazy woman and what was that crazy car? Veronica James, the driver of the bus the Tesla had almost pasted itself to, hollered out to Keith.

New teacher, Mrs. James. Keith spread his hands out helplessly. Ms. Ramin, English lit. The car is called a Tesla.

Some new Japanese thing, huh? Anyway, she ain’t settin’ a very good example for the children, drivin’ like that. And you’re the Safety Director. I hope you’re going to speak to her.

Yes, ma’am. Keith saluted and Mrs. James pulled her bus into the offload circle, much to Keith’s relief. Yeah, like I’m ever going to talk to … to … that! He glanced toward the student entrance to make sure all the kids got into the building as the warning bell rang.

A squeal of tires sent Keith sprinting back toward the street. Up at the car parking lot entrance he saw a tall black van with dark windows narrowly miss the Tesla as it turned in at the upper lot. The Sprinter spurted past the school, ignoring the reduced speed limit.

What just happened? Keith stared at the vanishing tail of the Tesla. That Ramin woman might be kind of a crazy driver, but Keith could have sworn the Sprinter was trying to hit her, not avoid her. He shook his head and headed inside.

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Fourth period, Keith led his ninth grade earth science class into the auditorium for the annual Welcome to Bradley assembly. He cringed when he saw Ms. Ramin and her class already seated in the section where his bunch was supposed to sit.

Mr. Bradley, tenth grade is in our seats! hissed Sonja Gray.

I see. I see. Hush, Sonja. Keith counted rapidly. Just go in here. He waved them down another row of seats, the ones the tenth grade should have taken. A dozen students felt compelled to make comments about these being the wrong rows, as hard as he tried to hush them up.

The sign’s right there by her elbow, grumbled Tim deLuca. "Man, I thought English teachers could read."

He said this as he plopped down beside Keith, right in front of Ms. Ramin. She appeared to come out of a trance and looked over at the sign next to her that said, Grade Nine.

Oh, she exclaimed, jumping up and windmilling her arms. Class! Everybody! We’re in the wrong seats. Get up! Get up! We need to move to – Her eyes flicked over to the grade ten sign at Keith’s elbow. Up there. Come on!

Ms. Ramin, it’s okay, Keith said. It’s fine. Look. He reached out with his long legs, hooked the signs with his ankles, and shuffled them until the grade nine one stood next to him. Sit back down. It’s fine.

She collapsed back into her chair, red-faced. I lost a contact, she confessed. I have no idea where –

Keith risked a look into that little almond-shaped, almond-colored face and found some big brown eyes staring back at him from under her soft gold and chestnut bangs.

Oh, I see it, Keith almost shouted, forcing himself back out of the depths of those eyes and taking a breath. It’s the right one, right? It’s back up in the top corner there.

Really? I can’t feel it! She whipped out a lighted, magnifying compact and peeled back her eyelid.

Keith heard and felt rather than saw the reaction of the tenth graders. He gave them the Eyeball, a look perfected and passed down through three generations of Bradley educators, and they subsided into relative silence and motionlessness.

Yeah, no, it’s right there – You got it! Keith crowed. Ms. Ramin nipped the contact out of her eye, pasted it to her tongue, and popped it back in.

Every kid for six rows said, in unison, Eeewww! But not very loudly, and shut up instantly with the application of another Eyeball treatment.

Thank you so much, Mr. Brady, she said. I have been trying all morning to find it. All my classes tried to help, didn’t you?

How can that many kids all roll their eyes at the same time? Keith somehow managed to keep his expression bland.

It’s Bradley! muttered someone.

What was that? Ms. Ramin asked.

It’s not Mr. Brady, it’s Mr. Bradley. The school is – y’know – like, named after him or somethin’, a voice supplied.

Oh, you’re Mr. Bradley? Everybody said at the in-service that you’re the go-to guy if anybody needs help, and they were so right! Ms. Ramin stuck out a hand, rattling metallic bangles and displaying multiple rings –

Keith stopped looking at her arm, her fingers, her perfect little hand, and shook it. He turned back around as a voice boomed over the feedback shriek that always signaled an assembly getting underway.

Welcome to Bradley Central! Keith’s father, the principal, called out. Returning students and teachers, no falling asleep. Don’t care how many times you’ve heard me give you ‘Bradley’s Best’. You still might miss something, especially this year, because we have something brand new and very special for our high school students. If you miss that very special announcement, you will miss out on an opportunity to make history.

Make history? How’s Bradley Central ever gonna make history? Keith couldn’t help it. This tiny town, and this tiny school, would never matter to anybody. But as he looked around the auditorium, he sat up a little straighter.

A stranger prowled along the side wall. It was a blonde in a fedora, tinted glasses, and one of those business-sexy outfits he never expected to see in real life.

Who is she? An extra microphone had been attached to his father’s podium and a cameraman flanked her. The blonde looked bored but perked up whenever the camera angled her way.

A reporter? For the first day of school at Bradley Central? Keith realized he had better try to pay special attention to a speech he had been hearing since Kindergarten, because between Ms. Ramin and this making history stuff, something was definitely up.

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Chapter Two – The Bible as Literature Class

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I swear, I am not lyin’. Keith heard the whisper and started to hunt for the new target of The Eyeball, but the next words froze him in disbelief. "She flies into the room like a for real nutcase, throws down a pile a’ books –Bam! – throws down a bunch a’ keys – crash! An’ then, like, when she’s all the way up there at her desk, she, like, pries open her eyelids, and says ‘Can anybody see my contact? I know it’s in there!’

The floor shook with the stifled giggles. Keith casually dropped a hand behind his chair and extended one finger.

"It’s one! Shut up!" hissed a different voice.

Principal Bradley moved along down his list. The blonde reporter got fidgety and checked her watch repeatedly.

This year we are offering ‘The Bible as Literature’ as an English elective to our upper-level students, his dad said.

Keith about fell off his chair. He heard clinking and risked a glance at Ms. Ramin, who was in the middle of a fist-pump and seemed to be showing off all her perfect teeth between her perfect –

Eyes front. Keith swiveled his head forward. The reporter had come to life. She crouched like a panther ready to spring. She made savage motions to the cameraman and stabbed at the stage. He switched from panning the crowd to a tight focus on the platform. The blonde swiped hard and sharp on a tablet she clutched in her hands.

His dad continued speaking. Just when we were sure the Bible was never coming back into the schools, we find out God just won’t let the secularists have their way. Our new English literature teacher, Ms. Ramin, will be handling this course, and if you still need an elective in your schedule, I encourage you to sign up. She has a very impressive course plan worked out, including a trip overseas during spring break to study a part of Bible history I’ll bet most of you had no idea existed. I know it was news to me. Greece will be the jumping-off point, and she told me about parts of Turkey …

Greece! The whispered rippled up and down the rows of chairs.

Turkey? Even the teachers exchanged longing looks.

Keith foresaw lots of volunteers signing up to chaperone. Good, because I'm not going to be in Greece or Turkey come spring break. The course he had finished yesterday was just the beginning of getting back on track with his master's. The convention during spring break was going to be critical to keeping him within the window to complete his degree.

"Ms. Ramin, please come up and briefly tell us what this course