Turok's Gift

By Bernard Goldstein

John Jensen Greenberg is no ordinary child. Frozen in a block of ice for thousands of years, he was found as an infant in a state of suspended animation and brought back to life by two scientists. But John has no idea of his true origin.

At the age of thirteen, John decides that he wants to find a way to reach the stars, but realizes that he needs something more powerful than the rocket principle. When he is only seventeen years old, he discovers a way to achieve his goal.

His invention sparks an arms buildup that threatens to overwhelm the world's balance of military power. As a result, an all-out spy network is launched to uncover the secrets behind this new technology.

When John discovers the truth of his birth, his world collapses. Given his unique talents and physical differences, he doubts his humanity. Threatened by failure, treachery, and human shortcomings, John must learn to deal with both the dark and light side of human relationships. But will he find peace amidst a worldwide struggle?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 21, 2006
• ISBN: 9780595829323

Bernard Goldstein

Bernard Goldstein has over thirty-five years of experience in the aerospace field. He has a bachelor?s degree in chemistry and a master?s in engineering. Goldstein is married and has three children. He is retired and spends his summers in Buffalo, New York.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

You know what that bastard Ferguson had the nerve to tell me? asked David.

His friend of twenty plus years, Doctor Bob Hansen, shook his head negatively, as he looked up from their game. The men were sitting at David’s kitchen table enjoying what had become almost a weekly scrabble game ritual.

David was a wiry man who had been almost dried out by his many years in direct exposure to wind, dust, and sun. He moved with sudden spurts of energy, despite his apparent physical unsteadiness.

He and Bob had met, when David’s wife visited Doctor Hansen complaining about a persistent cough. An x-ray verified that she had a spot on her lung, and a series of tests proved it was cancerous. In spite of repeated advice, she refused to give up her addiction to cigarettes.

Their friendship began when David’s wife read about the death of Susan and Erica Hansen, wife and daughter of Doctor Bob Hansen. They went to the funeral. Soon after that tragic event, David’s wife died. The double loss bonded the two men who tried to console each other over the years.

The men were almost opposites of one another. Where Bob was an indoor person, David loved the great outdoors. Bob abhorred physical activity, although he had finally learned to enjoy the short trout fishing excursions into the Colorado Mountains, where David had introduced him to the fine art of fly-fishing.

First, he says that he’s not sending me out to the field again.

What did you expect? Bob interjected before David could continue. You just got out of the hospital, and he had to pay the whole bill to get you here from that Godforsaken hole you were digging in. Malaria is nothing to fool around with. I think the man was looking out for you.

Are you my doctor or my friend? David asked.

This week, I’m your doctor. I’ll be your friend, when you get a little stronger.

Well, as my doctor, stop insulting that Godforsaken hole. Now my know-nothing assistant is going to get the credit for finding the first authentic ruins of the lost city of Urkesh. They carry me out of the hole, and three inches under where I was digging, he makes the find. That idiot wanted to look sixty miles to the East.

Bob said, You may not have made a significant archeological find, but you have a lot of research knowledge to teach our young people.

You’re beginning to sound like Ian Ferguson. He said to leave the digging to younger archeologists. Now he’s sending me into the Colorado Mountains to search for artifacts. Some rich jerk gave the school a quarter million dollars, if they would initiate a serious study of ancient remains in the state of Colorado.

Looking down at the Scrabble board, Bob gave no acknowledgement that he heard David’s comment. He hid his guilt behind his need to find a word.

He was the jerk whom David was grousing about. A Colorado assignment would keep David physically active, yet close to home, where the environments, and medical facilities, were much better than any other potential locations. His financial contribution had been made anonymously with the proviso that David Shugart would lead the expedition.

When do you leave? Bob asked.

In late May, after finals are over.

Why are you so mad at Ferguson? He put you on one of the few field assignments that you could handle.

He didn’t have much choice. The rest of the faculty would have told him where to go in no uncertain terms. What self respecting archeologist would be happy trying to discover ancient civilizations in Colorado, when they could be working on proven sites in Asia, Africa, and the Middle East?

Maybe you’ll locate a new civilization. That will put them all to shame.

Ha! snorted David. I had to go to our freshman class to get a crew to help me. There are no dummies among the upper classmen.

What’s your plan?

I figure to go about three weeks early to explore the region between Teluride and the mountain range to the east. I don’t know if anything is there, but it’s virgin territory. Exactly where I’ll be looking will depend more on the weather and what I can get to with my 4-wheel.

Who’s going with you? Bob asked.

No one. This is just a preliminary trip to locate some likely sites for a dig.

You know, David, sometimes I think some of those rocks you’ve been digging in have migrated to your brain. You just came out of the hospital, and here you are planning a trip that will put you miles away from any medical facility, without a backup in case you get a relapse. How stupid can you be?

David smiled. I thought my doctor might want to go along, he said. You can bring your fishing gear. We’ll make a holiday out of it.

Thanks for the invite. When were you going to tell me about it? The day before we were leaving? I’ll see if I can rearrange my schedule.

May of 1956 turned out to be beautifully warm and bright. Spring had come early to the Rocky Mountains, and the snow had already disappeared from areas exposed to the sun. David turned into a range of mountains located just above a high plateau. There might be some caves of cliff dwellers up in those mountains, he said.

After exploring several fruitless possibilities, they found an opening that appeared to contain a block of solid ice. It was a good quarter mile off the road, and David was intrigued.

That’s strange, he said. "How could that ice be here in the bright sun? There might be a cavity behind it, but it makes you wonder why it didn’t melt away over the years. I guess the rock must have split recently.

Yes. Look, Bob. See the way the ice is receded back from the rock edges? It can’t be replaced because there is no way for water to accumulate. The ice could be relatively thin.

David grabbed the chain saw and some portable lights out of the back. Take the Polaroid and 35mm, he ordered. If there’s a cave behind here, it may have an interesting history.

What’s a self respecting doctor of archeology doing with a chain saw? Bob demanded to know. You should have dental tools.

I do, my boy, I do, but this archeologist knows that sometimes back roads are blocked with large trees, and the only way to get by is to cut them away.

Returning to the ice block, David started cutting a horizontal line about two feet from the bottom.

Look at this. David pointed to water that streamed out of his small cut. That is strange.

David stopped cutting. Removing his glove, he touched some of the liquid with his finger.

Ow, that’s cold! he said, as he instinctively put his finger in his mouth.

It’s salt! That’s salt water.

David looked up the ice wall. I’ve got to climb up a little further, he said. This is one hell of a mystery, Bob. Maybe I’ll see something, if I get up a little higher.

Be careful, David. You don’t need any more medical problems, Bob admonished.

About fifteen feet above Bob’s position, David stopped.

What in the world? he said. Hand that light up here, Bob. There is something inside this ice.

That better?

Bob had joined him. Looking over his shoulder, Bob’s mouth fell open in shock. He gripped his friend’s shoulder in excitement.

Bob, do you see that? Look, back to the left. It’s going up and down in the water. Tell me my old tired eyes aren’t failing me", he said.

It’s a baby!

It is! Think of it, Bob. What a discovery! I’ll be an archeological super star. Imagine being frozen for what could be thousands of years.

Wait a minute David. I don’t understand. Why do you think this happened in the distant past? I don’t know how that baby got in there, but it doesn’t look any older then a thousand babies I see every year.

David pointed. "Do you see the fur that’s wrapped around it? It’s no ordinary fur. I’m pretty sure that is the fur of a tiger.

Taking another look inside the cave, Bob nodded his head. It sure looks like a tiger skin, but what does that have to do with anything? Looking at the ground below him, Bob added, I’m getting down from here before I break my neck.

There are no tigers in North America, said David. There haven’t been for over ten thousand years. That means the baby has to be over ten thousand years old. I wonder how it could have stayed in such a perfect condition without deterioration. What do you think, Bob?"

Bob looked up. First of all, how did tigers get to North America? Secondly what do I think about what?

Most scientists believe there was a land bridge between Alaska and the Asian Continent during the Ice Age, David answered. "I don’t know if tigers came from North America or Asia, but they were definitely here. The land bridge also explains how humanity migrated from its roots in Africa to this continent.

I’m wondering what you think about the way the fur and the baby have been preserved. After that many years, there should be nothing left but bones.

Bob thought for a short time before speaking. If you’re right about the age of the baby, it depends on how cold that water is and how much bacterial attack could have taken place.

Jumping down from his perch, David grabbed the Polaroid and 35mm cameras. When the Polaroid ran out of film, he started using the 35mm.

David hummed happily while he scrambled up and down the cave opening. It was obvious that he was excited over the potential of his find. Bob was also feeling quite satisfied. His behind the scene manipulations couldn’t have worked out better. He was so enamored with his own success that David had to repeat his question.

Bob, what do you think we should do next? David asked again.

Sorry, David, I guess I was daydreaming. I just read about an experiment they tried with a fish that was instantly frozen. After keeping it in that state for several months, they dropped the fish in room temperature salt water. In a fraction of a second, it started swimming around the tank like nothing had happened to it.

You don’t think it could still be alive? Bob’s statement stopped David’s thought process in mid stride. Here he was making plans on how he would spring the news of his find on the academic community, and Bob dropped a bombshell. If this baby was alive, his discovery could elevate the name of David Shugart to the very pinnacle of archeological success. He listened carefully as Bob responded.

From what I read, if conditions were right, it’s possible that it was cryogenically frozen in an instant. Then it could still be alive in a frozen state. Even the fur that’s wrapped around it appears to be undamaged. That’s a good sign that there has been no bacterial decay.

Wait a minute, David said. A fish is one thing, but a human baby is an entirely different situation. The mass of a fish is so small that it would probably take no more than a few seconds for the fish to freeze or thaw. If you tried that with a six to eight pound baby, it could take a long time before its internal parts were cold enough to prevent its cells from decaying. If it didn’t die when it was originally frozen, that length of time without any nutrients would surely kill it.

"Maybe so David. Maybe so. The odds certainly favor a death, but there’s a whole industry on the West Coast that’s been set up to freeze people who have just died from an incurable disease.

"The idea is to preserve them for what they hope will be hundreds of years in the future, when a cure for their malady has been discovered. If we can’t figure out how to defrost these people, there are going to be some mighty disappointed souls roaming around the heavens, not to mention their potential heirs, who couldn’t inherit their estate because the dead person thought they might need the money when they were restored.

Look at the facts. First of all, it’s a baby, with very little mass to freeze. Secondly, it seems to be in a liquid medium, which may mean that the temperature is not cold enough to cause internal ice formation. Thirdly, there are other organic materials with it that have no evidence of deterioration. It all adds up to a good indication that conditions might have been right. My medical training makes me assume that there is life, until I find out otherwise.

Now that you mention it, said David, I’ve been reading about cryogenic technology being a way they plan on preserving colonists on journeys to other star systems. Those trips could take thousands of years. Could you bring it back to life?

Probably not, but we’ll never know, if we don’t try.

CHAPTER 2

Yeooow! Edna Greenberg’s piercing scream startled her husband, Sol. He immediately looked at his wife, and in the process he almost ran his car off the road.

Edna’s 4’ 10 frame, was curled in a tight ball. Oh, Oh, she moaned, holding her stomach. Hospital, hurry. Get me to hospital." Her feet thrashed for a moment, and she passed out.

Sol became frantic. He struggled to come up with a plan, but each approach he thought of was a dead end. The situation had no solution. He was at least five hours away from Denver General. Edna’s doctor, Bob Hansen, was on the hospital medical staff. There was no traffic on the road, and the closest place he might get help would be the guard shack at the east end of the park.

Sol’s hands turned white from the force he exerted on the steering wheel of his 1950 Oldsmobile. His face froze in rigid determination. The sweat from his brow quickly became a steady drip down his nose and chin. He fretted with impatience while negotiating the hairpin turns.

Just a short time ago, the sharp turns were friends that opened up magnificent new panoramas of Rocky Mountain splendor. He and his wife Edna had been thoroughly enjoying the Look at that! beauty unfolding with each new scene.

It was a beautiful day, May 17, 1956. The trees were exhibiting the green buds of impending summer. The glistening reflection of the hot sun on the rapidly melting snow created a dazzling brilliance. Nature was truly showing its splendor, but Sol Greenberg didn’t give a damn.

His mind, like a broken record, repeatedly played over the stressful events of the previous months.

Four months ago, Autonetics had presented him with his pink surplus notice, and Sol had no luck finding another job.

I’m pregnant, Edna told him just two weeks prior to his layoff. At the time, it had been welcome news to the young couple.

Monthly expenses soon had their depressing effect on what should have been an exuberant pair of prospective parents. Our money’s going to run out in six weeks, Sol told Edna.

Edna’s eyes went misty. What will we do then?

We’ll give up the apartment, sell everything we have, and go east. I know it hurts, honey, but the aerospace business is having a boom back there. I’ll talk to my folks in New York. I’m sure they’ll agree to put us up, if worst comes to worst.

In late March, they sold their home, second car, and most of their belongings. With Edna not due until September, it gave them ample time for a leisurely drive across country. Sol decided to stop at aerospace contractors along the way.

They made a short two-day trip to Salt Lake City, where Sol was told of their lack of need for his instrumentation background. From there, the Greenbergs continued on to the Mercer Aerospace Company in Denver.

The next morning, Sol had gone out to the Mercer plant to see if he could get an interview. Mercer had just moved into a new facility South of Denver. The move had created many new employment openings.

In spite of, or possibly because of, all his burdens, Sol was unusually relaxed at the interview. Guess what? he said when he returned to their motel room. I got the job. A week later, they moved into a small apartment in Littleton, where they settled in to enjoy their new adventure.

Let’s take one more swing through the mountains this weekend, Sol proposed. It will probably be our last chance, until the baby is old enough to travel.

Last night they had stayed at a motel in Granby, the site of Colorado’s largest lake.

Going toward Denver? the service station attendant asked as he was filling their gas tank.

Yes, Sol responded.

Why don’t you take a side trip through the Rocky Mountain Park? It’s got the highest paved road in the world, and the best scenery you’ll ever see. The road just opened this morning. I’ll bet you won’t have a bit of traffic.

Edna agreed. That had been five hours ago.

Yeooow! Edna’s bloodcurdling scream shocked Sol’s nervous system once again. Help! she moaned. Get help.

Once again, she passed out from the pain.

Each of the two entrances, east and west, of The Rocky Mountain National Park has guard shacks that are manned to collect the tolls. When Sol reached the East End, he stopped.

Please help me, said Sol to the ranger manning the gate. My wife is having a baby, and I think there might be complications. I need to contact the nearest hospital.

The ranger looked up quickly. Maybe I can be more help than you think. Is your wife bleeding?

Yes. It’s starting to run all over the front seat. I think her life might be in danger.

The ranger hustled back into his shack, picked up his short wave radio microphone, and started a rapid conversation with an emergency team in Estes Park.

The medical team from Estes Park will be here in less than ten minutes, he informed Sol. They can give her emergency first aid. They’ll get her to Boulder, or Denver, three to four hours before you could.

Relief washed over Sol like a cold shower. Thank God, he said.

While you’re waiting, give me some personal information. It’ll save time later."

By the time the medical helicopter arrived, the ranger had contacted Denver General emergency room, given them all the pertinent information about Edna, Sol, and her doctor, Bob Hansen. They’re expecting her, he said.

Don’t worry, the ranger continued. Our medical team will be in radio contact with the hospital. If your wife needs anything, like plasma, they’re equipped to handle it.

Edna was frightened. Come with me, she said.

I’m sorry, honey, Sol told her. "They won’t let