Pinnacle Reef: Curse of the Forgotten

By David Getty

Several strangers traveling together find themselves castaways on an island in the Caribbean. A rescue effort for one of their fellow travelers leads them to be marooned on another island with an obscure history dating back hundreds of years. Luckett Island is surrounded by topography that has caught unawares a collection of astounded souls who have been unlucky enough to encounter it’s most prominent feature, Pinnacle Reef. Once there these visitors, meet and form a partnership with another survivor from a similar calamity occurring twenty some odd years earlier. Together they embark on an adventure aimed from the outset to leave the island and return home but unknowingly find themselves immersed in long-ago foretold events that lead to a galvanic climax, and finds each member caught up in the swirls of time, forced to reckon with choices they have made, past misdeeds for some and ultimately the elusive promise of redemption and renewal for all that they have lost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Jan 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781483473307

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Getty

Copyright © 2017 David S. Getty.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-7331-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-7330-7 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 10/13/2017

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To Deb, the one who taught my heart to dance, my winsome angel, unforgettable you-

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Part I

New World Taking Refuge

In the Three Jewels, and their essence, the sugatas, In the three roots: lama, yidam and khandro.

In the channels, inner air and Tikles, and their nature, the bodchichitta

In the mantra of essence, nature and compassion

I take refuge, until enlightenment is fully realized.

-Tibetan Book of Prayer

1

A Far Away Reunion

The sun hung low in the sky like a big melon; surrounding sky bore terraced shelves of deepening orange. It was late afternoon in the city. Lines of clouds streaked the sky as though added as an afterthought by some careless artist. Below the city extended out towards the horizon, buildings immediately before him modern, sleek and tall, all glass and angles. As one’s eye moved away to the west, structures became older and more random, streets radiating to all points of the compass. A man stood on an upper floor at the window of his hospital room, looking below. He could see tiny shapes milling around on the sidewalk below, people going to work, sightseeing, what?

The man, hands on the window sill, was lost in thought. An older man now, he had more of his life behind him than what lay ahead. The view no longer registered, his mind far away, traveling to distant times, places he often tried to forget but could not. His life had been good as far as he had come, the many memories crowding together, beckoning for attention, recognition, some sense of meaning. He could not help but reminisce about times of great excitement, adventure, mystery, and terrible fear.

As harkened memories returned, he first recalled moments of paralyzing doubt, moral uncertainty, guilt, remorse and self-hatred, feelings that still today stirred within him. He had to force himself to accept the sense of triumph, accomplishment, and satisfaction that came with it. He had lived without regrets but was plagued with nagging worries about the future and curiosity about what was to come.

He was here for an annual check-up- he wasn’t getting any younger these days and he had lately been having a lot of low-back pain and soreness in his joints. But today he was restless, anxious, excited. This morning he was to meet with his nephew and great-nephew who he hadn’t seen since they were little children. What would they look like now? What stories would they tell him?

His thoughts were jarred by a knock on his door. A big blond head craned through the doorway, a face with a goofy grin.

Uncle? Are you in here?

The man looked up to see his nephews, two tall hulking men, come in through his door. Memories of their childhood came rushing back, his heart lifting at the sight of them. He called out Scott!! Devin!! You’re here! hugging them both at once.

As he did so he noticed a small, well-dressed man standing behind them, hands behind his back, watching. He wore wire rimmed glasses and had an aquiline face, his hair carefully trimmed at the sides and parted in the middle. He had a little patrician nose but parked incongruously just to its left there sprouted a black mole, so large it was difficult not to stare at it. His lips in a slight curve, a wry smile, eyes deep set and curiously flat.

Sorry for interrupting, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to at least say hello! the man said.

Turning his head toward the man, Scott spoke: Oh yes uncle. This is Lipton, a professor here from the university. He called me, asked if I had had any contact with you. Said he was a friend of yours from long ago, lost touch with you. I know how bad I feel when I lose touch with friends, so I thought it would be a nice surprise. Hope you don’t mind.

Oh no, not a bit the man said always good to catch up with old friends.

He stepped forward towards Lipton, speaking as he moved I have to admit you don’t look familiar to me. Where do I know you from?

As he grew closer the air around Lipton became electric and a static buzz filled the room. The outline of his body began to change, shoulders hunching forward, expanding to twice their size, his legs pistoning, shooting up as he grew in stature until well over 8 feet tall. What in God’s name was happening? Lipton groaned, cried out in a deafening baritone as he morphed, an anguished plea for help. Clothing ripped and tore, falling from his body as he grew. The glasses cracked and sprang away from his head. His elbows pinioned out at impossible angles, joints cracking with sinewy snaps as the limbs adjusted and Lipton began to resemble some strange disfigured primate. His fingers began to elongate and at the same time the joints bulged to well over one inch across, the nails growing thicker and distending themselves well beyond the fingers until they curled back towards his palms. The skin on the hands wrinkled, grew dark and coarse and no longer looked human.

Devin shouted, scrambled backward away from the creature, tripping over a chair as he did. He lost his footing and sprawled on the floor, quickly crab-walking around the other side of his uncle’s bed, peering over it, clutching the bedding. Scott stood immobile, shocked and unable to absorb what was happening before him. Their uncle strangely remained standing within a foot of the chimera and displayed no outward sign of distress. It was as if he knew what to expect.

Lipton’s head bloated and ballooned until it became larger than a basketball. Hair grew quickly, long, thick and matted from his scalp, hanging loosely over his ears and down his neck. Lantern eyes, bulbous and enormous obtruded, the pupils swelling and elliptical like the eyes of a jungle cat below a cleft of hirsute eyebrows. Tiny crimson blood vessels danced outward, finely etching a spider web pattern across the whites of the eyes. They did not blink. The nose enlarged itself to fill the face, flattening,with nostrils flaring. Ears sprouted out and along the sides of the head, flapping, clownlike, settling in. Lipton’s mouth bowed, the lips swelling, curving around the jaw and arranging themselves until they reached just under Lipton’s ears, forming an eerie leering jack-o-lantern grin on his newly engorged face. Teeth populated the mouth, jutting forward at crazy angles, gigantic, yellowed and cracked. An elephantine black tongue lazily licked the Lipton/thing’s upper lip as it leaned forward, its immense frame hanging over the man. As Scott and Devin watched it began to speak to the man in a rasping, guttural whisper, ominous and full of menace:

Do you know me, Talen? Do you know me now?

The man looked directly at the Lipton/thing. His face was somber, eyes doleful. Quietly and in a soft voice he said:

Why yes, Thomas, I know you. Yes I do. It’s good to see you after such a long time. But the real question is do you know me? My name is Benjamin.

2

The Past Returns

The room became very still and quiet. Ben cocked his head to one side and continued to stare at the face of Lipton/Thomas or what he had become. The creature began to shift his gaze from one side of the room to the other, as if awaiting some divine gift or message. As it waited, it rubbed the side of its face with one of its great elongated hands.

Scott shuffled to his left to be nearer his uncle while Devin slowly stood behind the bed, afraid but at the same time captivated.

Slowly, Ben lifted his hand, fingers spread apart, and placed it gently in the center of Lipton/Thomas’ chest. For a second nothing happened. The thing looked at him curiously, a look quickly replaced by a look of confusion and alarm. The area beneath Ben’s hand began to pulse and quiver, the vibrations spreading immediately throughout the creature’s body. As Ben took his hand away a faint light began to flicker within Lipton/Thomas’ torso. Scott gripped Ben’s shoulder and pulled him backward and he stagger-stepped near the bed. The great beast began to spasm and shudder, the limbs flapping and fluttering about as though trying to shake off some terrible infestation. A strangled moan left Lipton/Thomas as he/it lurched backward.

Nooooooooo! It cannot be! It must not be! We have waited so long, given everything, I cannot go back, please!

Lipton/Thomas staggered backward through the door to the room and out the hallway. As it moved it jerked, hopped and swayed furiously as if in the midst of some manic marionette performance or grand mal seizure.

It turned about suddenly and began to shuffle down the hall, away from them. Wails of despair rang down the hallway. The spasmodic movements began to slow and long wisps of vapor began to rise from its shoulders, head and extremities. As this occurred the outline of its form became less distinct, as though they were looking at Lipton/Thomas through a pair of out-of-focus binoculars.

Devin slowly turned to watch, unable to suppress a morbid curiosity at what was unfolding.

Now Lipton/Thomas seemed to be 50’ away or so, but it was getting difficult to judge. The loss of corporeal form became more exaggerated. Looking at the creature became an almost surreal experience, ghostly, as though looking at something through old muslin curtains too long exposed to the sun. Fog tumbled from Lipton/Thomas’ shape, creating frenetic clouds of steam and vapor, further obscuring movement. Ben squinted to more clearly see where he was, and began to make out the pattern of fabric through the clouds of steam. Although he could still see movement, he was shocked when the realization struck him that he was not looking at the back of the creature but rather the pattern of the hall carpet through the creature. In another moment no one could detect movement other than the roiling clouds of steam at the end of the hall. As the steam dissipated the noise quieted and all became silent. They all watched anxiously until the clouds had cleared. They looked in vain for signs of the Lipton/Thomas thing. The hallway was vacant; it was as though the man who had come to visit Ben was never there.

3

A Door to Memory

No one spoke for a while. Devin wondered if he had actually seen what just happened or just imagined it. It seemed like something that was made-up for TV, still he was enthralled and puzzled at what occurred and what it meant. What had his uncle been doing all these years, how did he know this thing? Finally Scott spoke:

Crap, Ben, who was that guy? Where did he go, or should I say where’d you send him?

It’s complicated. Let’s just say I helped him return to where he had come from.

Is he dead now? asked Devin

Well, no, not really. But in every important way we would define life he is.

But what was he here for? said Scott and why’d he change into that horrible thing?

"No simple answer. He’s one of the etomei, the lost ones, the forgotten ones. Showing himself caused him to reveal the true essence of his being, his character. Forced him to change."

But why was he here? What did he mean ‘we have waited so long’ ? said Devin

Ben sighed. I knew this day was coming, but I didn’t want to face it. I never guessed it would show itself with such force.

Ben shook his head and sighed again while he paused, staring into space. He tilted his head down and minutes passed while he gathered his thoughts. He looked up, continued:

"I’m an old man now and that entitles me to be a philosopher sometimes. Here’s today’s lesson. You’re old enough to know we all spend a lot of time questioning our purpose, why are we here? Along the way we each get answers that are unique to us that help define who we are. We also discover things that are common to us all, at least most of us. Seeking our purpose, we’re drawn together- we love, aspire, belong, put others’ needs first. This uplifts us, teaches us to hope, to dream, dare, and imagine. Thomas hungers for these things in ways I can’t explain. It’s what drives him, consumes him, makes him desperate, as it does all the etomei. It torments him and is his solitary hope. Does that help?"

Ben studied the two, vainly trying to make a connection.

What kind of answer is that? responded Scott That thing could have killed us! I know less now than when we started this conversation. Why’d he call you ‘Talen’?

A ‘Talen’, to his people, is a guide, a seeker, a spiritual resource. That’s how he knows me. Christ, I know you have questions. Ben stood, his words slow, thoughtful.

Crap, this isn’t going the way I hoped. It’s very confusing; more than a little frightening. Sit down, I’ll get us some coffee and I’ll tell you a story that will help you make some sense of all this and maybe help you to understand me and what I’ve been through. This all happened a long time ago but for me the memory is as clear as though it took place last week.

As Ben stared at them a haunted look came over his face, eyes widening, features tightening.

But you said you helped him return where he had come from. asked Devin did he go home?

Ben’s speech dwindled to a whisper:

As near a home as he’ll ever have. He returned to Luckett Island, home of what is treacherous yet bewitchingly beautiful, a vision that commands awe and wonder, a memory that the mind refuses to forget, Pinnacle Reef.

LONG AGO

4

First Contact

Ben gazed absently out the window, sipping from his mug as the memories surged back and he was a much younger man. He remembered they had boarded the Golden Sunrise in New York on February 4th, 1971, a freighter with a cargo of medical supplies and auto parts. The final destination was the west coast of Africa.

They were steaming in waters southeast of the Caribbean in a major shipping lane, it was late that evening when passengers began to wake up. All realized that the temperature in their staterooms was suffocating; the air conditioning had stopped working, so had the lights. Soon everyone was summoned on deck; the Captain explained that the oil pump had malfunctioned and the bearings in the main shaft driving the propeller had seized. Ben knew this too well, he had diagnosed the problem. They did not have sufficient parts to make the repair but they had radioed for assistance. Several days passed with no word while they drifted at sea, the ocean currents pulling them steadily south.

Finally, the Captain made a decision when land was sighted to put his few passengers in a life dinghy with several crewmen to get ashore and try to get help while they awaited rescue and repair. They managed to reach a small island, the dingy grounding on a narrow isthmus on its eastern end. They surveyed the island and quickly discovered there was little there to sustain life, inadequate materials to build a shelter. They were all exhausted, took some food, blankets and the rest of their belongings from the dingy within a grove of palms, made a fire and slept.

When they awoke to their horror they discovered that the tide had risen during the night and the dingy was gone, not even visible out on the horizon. They had neglected to beach it; they would have to build a raft and seek a larger island or landfall. There was Ben Mitchell, a machinist on the ship, Taylor Armstrong, a passenger/salesman for a tool and die company, Bruce Powers, a photographer on assignment, Jamal Eulcidado, another passenger, traveling to meet his brother doing missionary work in the Dominican Republic with his young nephew Nolan and Patrick Duquene, the third mate, all save young Nolan in their mid-20s. As Ben began to tell the tale he was cast back, far back in time, in the heat, aimlessly drifting…..

Rocking in a sea-saw motion, the raft pitched and sunk into swells in the sea, facing forward amid a chrome, dappled, ever-changing surface stretching out towards the edge of the horizon. Ben, Bruce, Patrick, Nolan, Taylor and Jamal had been at sea for 4 days. Well, no matter, it was far too late to turn back, they were nearly out of food and exhaustion was showing in all of them exposed constantly to the sun, wind and at times turbulent sea. If they did not find land soon they may all die out here.

Ben remembered studying maps of this area as a young man and recalled the islands forming a chain. Using a dead reckoning technique his father had taught him he had tried to steer the raft due south but there were times when he slept and he was unsure if they were off course. It was early morning with a calm sea and these random thoughts passed through Ben’s mind, weary, and he drifted off to sleep.

Ben Mitchell was an unlikely guide. In his young life he’d been struggling with the same confusion, immaturity and lack of direction as all his friends had, maybe to an even greater degree. Straight out of high school he’d enlisted in the Marines, gotten in shape, learned how to shoot, how to kill and follow orders. Now he worked with engines, electronics. He had thick tousled black hair, an angular face with piercing blue eyes. He was slender, graceful and moved with athletic ease. Ben’s friends told him he was too intense. Since leaving home he had been restless, unsatisfied, felt he had been wasting his life and at times became moody, preoccupied with a vague sense of guilt.

During the early morning hours Jamal swiveled his head back and forth, studying the horizon ahead, vigilant for a land sighting. As time passed the heat became suffocating and he looked less and less until he slouched against the bags that held their few remaining belongings, his head listing to one side, boredom and fatigue claiming dominion over his mind and body. The others lay about on the raft listless, some sleeping, the sun above beaming searing heat in oppressive waves down on the band, sapping their strength and will. No breeze stirred, the air lifeless and still. Hours went by and conversation lapsed into monosyllablic exchanges. The raft drifted steadily south on marine currents.

As the day progressed the setting sun arched above them, beginning to ease down towards the eastern horizon, a flattening golden orange orb unfurling a glistening orange path across the water. Patrick was awake and hearing movement looked to his right. Nolan was on his knees on the front end of the raft, his hands working in front of him. His eyes were blank, staring vacantly into the distance. Several of the logs to his right were beginning to separate from the rest of the raft and the bindings, the rope woven around them, had been untied and carefully pulled apart and lay in neat coils on each side of Nolan. He was working on the next intersection of rope; soon the raft would simply splinter apart and cast them and whatever little they had left into the open sea. As Patrick studied this apparent act of sabotage in horror he also saw a half-dozen coconuts they had managed to find, their only source of hydration, floating out in the open water 150 yards away. Nolan had apparently thrown them out.

The others began to stir as the raft began to pull apart. Nolan’s movements became more feverish and words rushed from his mouth in a husky torrent, voice unrecognizable, speaking in some weird dialect from long ago:

We are denied, as it must be! Our fate is ordered, jubilee! Flayed alive by the symbaree! throwing back his head Nolan brayed with laughter, hysterical.

Patrick leapt to his feet and tackled Nolan who thrashed about, trying to get to his feet. What in God’s name is wrong with you? The hell are you doing, you little bastard! You’ll kill us all!

Nolan’s lips parted into a snarl as he wrenched to the side, trying to break away from Patrick’s grip. Throwing his arm back Patrick slapped Nolan hard in the face with his open palm and he gasped, the blow knocking him to the deck unconscious. The others scrambled to their feet, Ben uncoiling the rope and beginning to thread it around the first log while Taylor dived in to assist under the raft. Bruce collected their belongings and helped Ben with the weaving work. Jamal dived off the other side to retrieve the coconuts. It took ten or fifteen minutes of frenzied activity to restore the raft. By that time Nolan had come to, Jamal standing over him deeply concerned. A bewildered frown crossed his face as he looked at his uncle. Did I do something wrong?

Jamal’s concern grew to alarm. Don’t you remember?

Worry etched Nolan’s face; he was on the verge of tears.

Not really. I was real tired, got real sleepy all of a sudden, then I saw this black shape, it didn’t move but I could tell it was alive! Nolan’s eyes widened as he gestured with his hands, unable to convey the growing fright he experienced. "Then it opened these eyes, ‘cept