Atlantis War

By Calvin Cahail

Jack Spencer jumps Space-Time to the past with weapons of the future to defend the existence of Atlantea.

King Xe, seeking refuge from the overthrow of his regime by his power-mad daughter, Xenia, hides in Atlantea. She hunts him down, relentless in her quest to eliminate the rightful challenger to her newfound leadership. It all erupts in a war that threatens the very existence of Atlantea.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Calvin Cahail
• Release date: Nov 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005488352

Calvin Cahail

Author: The Logical Choice: Tote Board Handicapping Made Easy; Professional Handicapper; member of the Horseplayers Association of North America.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

10,001 BC

North Coast of Africa

THE BRILLIANT LIGHT lit the evening sky, illuminating the fabric tent where little seven-year-old Yusuf slept, followed by a sleep-shattering thunderclap that awakened him.

What was that?

Yusuf rubbed his dark eyes, still half asleep. As the night sky returned to calmness, the child drifted back into slumber. Then the sky lit up repeatedly, a deep turbulent sound following each pulse of light that streaked across the heavens. Soon, the entire Berber community gathered outside their nomadic tent abodes, staring skyward, witnessing the spectacle of never-ending falling stars above them.

Tariq stood behind his now awake Yusuf, wrapping his haik around his son, shielding him from the sharp night air as the surreal light experience surrounded them. Yusuf was not afraid, merely awed.

Dad, what is happening? Yusuf had never seen such a thing before. Tariq, standing taller than most Berbers, was deep in thought. He did not know what had just happened nor how to answer his son.

Someone has angered the gods, my boy. Make sure you never do so, you hear?

Yes, father. Yusuf leaned forward out from his father's haik, inspecting the sky.

As the tribe watched from the foothills of the Jebel Tebaga Mountains bordering the Mediterranean Sea, a deft calm overtook the region as the blackness of night returned, replacing the spectacular light show. The nomads looked at one another in awe and bewilderment, trying to affirm that all had returned to normal when the surrounding darkness gave way to blinding brilliance. The air thundered, the ground trembled, and the tribe fell to their knees in submission to the approaching fire god that confronted them from above the southern skies. The god, riding atop a flaming chariot larger than their village, soared overhead past them, radiating heat that singed Tariq's bushy eyebrows, and crashed into the ocean below, sending a giant plume of water a thousand feet into the air and further out to sea. As the stellar object slowly disappeared into the brine, it sent a wave of water one hundred feet tall straight for the shore directly below the Berber community.

Tariq sensed the potential danger. Everyone! We must get to higher ground. Now! His fellow tribesmen also felt the impending peril and scrambled, grabbing small valuables but wasting little time. Then, in mass, they joined Tariq as he made his way in fear up the hillside. As the tribe vacated the village, little Yusuf remained behind, standing alone, awed by the immense wall of water bearing down on him.

Tariq reached down for his son's hand, thinking he was beside him, but Yusuf was not in reach. Tariq turned and fought his way back through the throng of hysterical tribesmen rushing to escape, searching for his son. Yusuf, he called out. As the villagers cleared the area, he finally saw him. He raced downhill, grabbed his son's arm, looked him in the eye, and said, Let us go! His voice was intense, deliberate, unyielding, and Yusuf instinctively knew not to question his father.

Tariq and Yusuf rushed up the hillside, desperately trying to close the distance between them and their fellow tribesmen. The frantic emotions of the villagers were replaced by cold silence as they focused on what lay before them, a sheer, impassable cliff. The fast-approaching tsunami bore down, trapping them.

The tsunami swelled slowly but steadily until it crashed violently on the shore, then surged up the side of the foothills towards the nomadic village, swallowing everything in its path. From their high vantage point, the tribe watched the now muddied water rise ever closer to their community and all they possessed, carrying rocks and shrubs, and they were helpless to stop it. Then, Tariq hugged his son, and the tribal members smiled at one another in relief as they saw the momentum of the water ebb and its height stabilize, leveling off just shy of the tent community. The tribe turned to celebrate with their fellow tribesmen. They hugged and leaped up and down in elation.

Time passed; no more gods presented themselves, and as the water began to recede, and the nomads felt safe once again, they returned to their village to the light of the rising sun. Too late to retire to bed again, the community began their morning chores. Yusuf tended his family's horse while his eyes were focused downhill to the sea where the chariot had disappeared. He was amazed and fascinated by what had just happened. Then Yusuf glanced at his father, who was busy packing their belongings and was paying him no mind. The food was scarce, and the tribe would leave tomorrow, moving farther north to Portown. With his chores completed, Yusuf sneaked off toward the mysterious shimmer by the seashore.

As he neared the shoreline, Yusuf stopped short and saw a strange shiny rectangular object resting on the beach. The young man approached slowly. His curiosity was high. Yusuf stood to the side of the box in awe, staring, not sure what to do next. Then, he heard a noise from inside the object. Yusuf listened intently but heard nothing else. He leaned over to be sure. Suddenly, security seals positioned around its top edges popped, and gasses burst out away from the lid as its air pressure balanced. Yusuf would never comprehend he sat before an emergency escape pod belonging to the craft now buried under the sea nearby.

Yusuf stumbled, falling on his backside, but never took his eyes off the box. The lid, shiny, unlike its matted base, moved a fraction of an inch and settled down ajar. Yusuf continued to stare. Finally, he found the courage to approach the box. Though his hand trembled, the boy reached for the lid, his curiosity overcoming his fear. He thought about getting his father first, but he might miss an opportunity if he did so.

Yusuf grabbed one edge of the alien lid and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. Then, he flung the heavy top open as he back-stepped, unsure of the ramifications of what he had just done. He stood there, motionless, for what felt like forever before he heard a moan. Finally, more fascinated than frightened, Yusuf dropped to his knees next to the pod.

There, inside the container, semiconscious, lay the most beautiful woman Yusuf had ever seen, Princess Xela.

CHAPTER 2

2033

Belize, United Americas

MELVIN'S BANK HAD ALWAYS BEEN SMALL and undeveloped. You could hold your breath as you went through it...on foot. It missed the impact of The Great Oil Wars of 2015 but was part of the uniting of the Americas into one nation that the war demanded. In 2033, the following economic expansion had created a tourist boom of boutique bed and breakfast hotels catering to the river rafting and zip lining crowd. The requisite T-shirt and souvenir shops mainly selling Guatemalan-made trinkets with Belize painted on them dotted the main street like a string of Christmas lights.

Natural breezes cooled by the ocean worked their way through to the inland town, cutting the warmth of the otherwise intense sun. A 2023 Hyundai flatbed truck, now ten years old and beaten by heavy use, was stacked precariously twenty feet high with still-damp river rafts. It meandered slowly down the cobblestone main street of town, and the guides in the beat-up truck cab were returning from a long morning on the river with gringo tourists that could not figure out their left oar from their right. The drab green truck passed La Esquina, a local dive bar that filled up early and stayed that way well into the night.

The early evening sun fought its way through the stained-glass window of the cantina but did little to change the bar's dank, musty beer atmosphere. The walls needed paint, and the wooden chairs creaked, their glue and screws giving way after the abuse of many years of use. Everything needed a good cleaning and had a slight stickiness, yet the locals loved the place, adopting it as their own. Tourists walked by the door to the bar, intrigued by the constant laughter and raucous noise of one drunk raising his voice, trying to outdo the other, but few braved an entry. The environment was not inviting to those not part of 'the club.'

Jack stood out, of course, as the only gringo sitting at the bar, but primarily due to the gut feeling of the locals that he just did not belong there, and they could not have been more correct. As he finished his third Belikin Stout, his attention turned to the two Kriols sitting to his left. Kriols were a dwindling population in Belize, now at about fifteen percent, yet they represented the country's culture and identity. Once brought to Belize as slaves, Black Africans intermarried with Jamaicans, West and East Indians, and Nicaraguans that migrated there, forming a unique ethnic group that spoke their language. A blue crystal hanging around Jack's neck, a present from his new friend Clar in Atlantea, allowed him to understand people by their thoughts even though they spoke a foreign language. So Jack listened in on the conversation they were enjoying at his expense.

Never seen him around here before. The older, curly-gray bearded man, dressed in clean old clothes, remarked.

As sad to look at as he looks sad. The other huffed, his beer belly shaking as it spilled over the top of his too-small pants.

Not a tourist. Not rich. And not from here. The Kriols clinked their glasses together as they nodded in agreement.

You're right on all counts, Jack said, catching the Kriols, who thought they were speaking a language Jack would not understand, off guard. He thought for a second as the many beers were getting the best of him. I certainly didn't choose to come here and don't possess a single Amero coin you use here in the United Americas in my pocket nor a place to sleep. And the laugh of it all? I'm from 2003, not from here!

The Kriols looked at one another and broke out in laughter. Just another crazy gringo, they thought. Jack joined in the laugh; then, his smiling face faded into somberness as he contemplated his situation. He stood in line at Starbucks in 2003 when the air blurred about him in a haze of red, and he disappeared. The time portal that engulfed him and the woman in front of him, Sara, taking them forward in time to 2035. A professor and his assistant, Tim, creators of the portal, received him with open arms. The world's governments of their time were under siege by someone called The Prophet, and they had a plan to Jump in time to defeat the evil man before he started all the current carnage. Jack felt stronger after Jumping while nothing living had ever made it through a portal and lived long, so Jack reluctantly became their only answer.

Jack savored his beer as his mind focused, then wandered back to the events of the last few days. He smirked, catching the Kriols attention. The fireman leaned in their direction as if telling them a secret. I've been to Atlantis, too, he said, nodding to verify his remark.

Hah, said one, belly giggling again. And how did you find this lost island, man?

Jack thought for a second.

With a camera. He wobbled some in his seat from the effects of the whiskey. And I met a beautiful geologist named Amanda and we fell in love, yet she doesn't know I exist anymore. Everything he told them was true, as incredible as it indeed sounded.

Now the Kriols were shaking their heads, sure the guy sitting next to them was crazy. The heavyset one motioned to their friend, the bartender, who came over and leaned forward. Juan, you need to keep an eye on this one. He slyly motioned toward Jack. He's not making sense. Says he can travel through time and has been to Atlantis. AND said he doesn't have any money. That was all Juan needed to hear. He slapped the polishing towel he was holding onto the bar top. Guys, back me up, okay? The Kriols nodded as Juan circled to the bar's front, pulling his pants up as if gaining strength. Juan was a short Latino man, but he stood tall in his mind with his two friends standing behind him.

Okay, my friend, Juan said to get Jack's attention from behind. Time for you to go. Juan grabbed Jack's arm. Jack turned around on his barstool, staring into Juan's eyes. Juan instinctively started to back up but butted into his friends.

I'll go when I'm ready, Jack announced as he swung his stool back facing the wall yet kept an eye on the trio via the mirror lining the back bar.

Juan looked up at his friends for assurance, then grabbed Jack's arm again. Jack looked down, staring at the hand on his arm, then at Juan. Juan became aggressive. Let's go! He tugged on Jack's shirt sleeve as the two Kriols circled around to either side of Jack. If you have no money to pay for your drinks, you are not welcome here any longer, gringo.

Jack thought about what the Chihuahua of a man said, figuring he was right. Jack reached into his pocket, pulled out an old, no longer used United States twenty-dollar bill that he crumpled and tossed on top of the bar.

We should be even now. Jack began to move toward the door, but the Kriols blocked his exit.

We do not like you, man, one declared.

I don't like you either. Now, step aside. Jack stood motionless, giving the two a chance to comply. They did not. Jack cupped a hand around each of the Kriol's necks and lifted them, feet dangling as he moved toward the door. He set them down in front of the bench to the right of the exit and gave them a gentle push. They plopped down, awed by what had just happened.

Jack started out the door but turned.

By the way, he pointed out as the three stared at him, I talk to and ride a dragon named Duran. With that, Jack exited the bar with a smile on his face. The Kriols stared at one another, the big one backslapping the other.

Come on. He egged the other on. Together they quickly exited the cantina as Jack was walking away.

Duran, can you hear me? Jack stared skyward, and soon, a silhouetted flying figure approached from above the cantina, gave a back flap of its muscular leather-covered wings, and settled down beside his new best friend, Jack. Let's fly away from here as dramatically as you know how, Duran.

As you wish. The crystal around Jack's neck worked with Duran, as well. With that, Jack, with a single leap, swung up onto the saddle straddling the massive creature's back.

The beast leaped into the air, mighty wings sending them airborne straight toward the afternoon sun. Duran banked to the right, swept over the Kriol's heads, and left town. The two locals, jaws dropped, watched as the gleck flew over them and no longer doubted, but no one would believe them when they returned to the bar.

Jack, we need a focus. What are we to do? I am perplexed by it all.

I wish I had a real answer, Duran. My only connection to any part of my past life dwells in Amanda's home. He thought for a second. Just fly, Duran. I need to think.

As you wish.

The Monkey River peacefully flowed in front of Jack, but he was anything but peaceful. Lost. Alone. Sitting on the riverbank in the jungle wilderness of Belize with nowhere to turn. He should be feeling elated now, what with just stopping The Prophet before her wholesale slaughtering of so many people. But, instead, he returned to Belize with no focus. Amanda and her father, a professor, no longer recognized him, and without them and their time portal, he could not return to his life in 2003. Instead, he was stuck in the future, not knowing for sure whether his good deeds have saved San Jose, California, and his mother, who lived there, from harm. It was all a mess.

Howler monkeys called from the other riverbank as if laughing at Jack. The water rippled, spreading in a burst as the head of a beast broke through it. Some combination of bird and mammal with a beak hooked like carrion and its body covered in sun-toughened skin, and an orange tuft of feathers around its neck came toward Jack, spreading its wings. The gleck shook like a dog to rid itself of its water bath and, in the process, the animal-soaked Jack.

Jesus, Duran.

Yes?

If we are going to be friends… We are friends, right?

Of course, we are, sir.

Okay, if we are going to be friends, then we have to have some standard rules, so we can live alongside one another in harmony. Does that make sense?

Yes, sir. It is normal in a civilized society.

First rule: Don't call me sir.

Yes, sir.

Jack sighed but went on. The second rule is, after taking a bath, keep the water to yourself. Okay?

Yes, sir.

Am I talking to myself? Knock off the 'sir' stuff.

As you wish.

Jack did not understand how an animal with a beak could smile, but he was sure the leathery skin on either side of it twitched upward if just for a second. Duran was toying with him.

It's a good thing I like you, Duran because I can't see how anyone else would endure you as I do.

Well, we are a solitary species, I suppose. Speaking of which, I sense it is spring, yet I do not see you mating.

Yeah, well you met Amanda, if briefly.

She is something unique, no?

Yes. And for the first time in my life, I felt as if I wanted to open to a woman, you know, let her into my life. Been hard for me to do that in the past. Always afraid of the pain. Now I feel as if I want to do just that, yet Amanda now acts as if she never knew me. I stayed in THAT house with her, the professor and Tim, no mistake. And without Amanda and company to create a Jumpoint for me, I have no way back to my home in 2003.

What year is it now?

2035, more or less.

That is a lot of years from my time, I assume. I am feeling a little lost right now, as well.

Try ten thousand years, Duran, but you did a noble deed back in Atlantea. Be proud.

Thank you. We both made the same choice. We will get the most out of this. Do not forget that this is a whole lot better than where we thought we would end up. Duran flinched as she folded to rest on the ground. Jack noticed but said nothing about it.

You're smarter than you look, Duran.

And you humans are lucky to be smarter than you look.

Jack stood on the riverbank, the jungle surrounding him. It was all alive, of course, yet he and the beast resting beside him seemed very much alone in the clearing.

Ha. Well, as I see it, we need a game plan.

What does 'game plan' mean?

This crystal around my neck obviously doesn't know how to interpret some important things. It's the Cowboys versus Washington on Monday night. Brunell is quarterbacking for the Redskins. Parcells has a pass rush this year and decides to use it all night relentlessly, trying to throw his adversaries off stride, and in so doing, gives the Boys a 21-18 win. That's a game plan.

They both just looked at one another. Duran shook her head and then rested it on her short forearms. Never did humans make sense to her, but she had hope for Jack until now.

What? Okay, the Elders in Atlantis choose to domesticate glecks so they can use you to fly to faraway lands in a day rather than having to use ships that would take a week. That's a game plan of sorts. It's a strategy. Jack bobbed his head up and down, looking for understanding, but the gleck only shook her head and then closed her eyes.

Well, we can't just hang around here. Jack visually swept the area, his mind searching for an answer.

Why not? It is a beautiful day. Duran arched her neck, letting the sun warm her face.

Well, as you know, we humans prefer to have a roof over our heads at night. Unfortunately, I don't see any around here, do you?

A barbaric habit. One that makes no sense to me.

Wait, that's it.

What is 'it'?

Our first clue. How we can find the connection we need.

I do not think your crystal is working right. You're making less sense to me than usual.

What I meant was, during our travels Amanda and I touched bases at a couple key locations. One store in town had an owner who seemed to have more than a casual connection with Amanda. I believe we may find some answers through him.

I do not think Amanda is fooling around on you, Jack.

Jack looked at her quizzically for a second and then got it. Not that kind of fooling around. More like a business contact. Come on, let's head to town. Jack grabbed his jacket, excited at the opportunity of sorting out his problems.

As you wish. The gleck waited for Jack to mount. Rising slowly, Duran flapped her massive wingspan twice, and they were off. A flock of white birds shot out from the treetops as Jack and Duran flew by, disrupting the pervasive calm. Jack did not recognize the birds, but it brought up a nagging question for him.

Duran, how would you classify yourself? I mean, are you a bird or mammal, or what?

I am a gleck.

Learned men in our times have studied animals, their fossils, their DNA and have concluded that the various species of animals on Earth have all evolved from earlier, somewhat similar, species. Many species have similar traits to others. You have wings like our birds but also forearms that birds do not have. It's hard to say what you are.

I am a gleck.

Thanks. I've decided to classify you a duck as in 'odd duck.'

As you wish.

I've asked you not to say 'sir', so I now re-classify you as a 'stubborn odd duck.'

As you wish.

Jack leaned left quickly, catching a definite smile on Duran's face. They were verbally sparring with one another as good friends might do. Jack needed that right now. So did Duran. They were alone in a time not their own.

You'd better land out of sight of the townspeople, Duran. They're not used to such a beautiful creature as you.

I can understand that. How about right here? Duran lit a few hundred yards outside of town through a break in the canopy of the mahogany trees.

Great.

You go along and do what you must do. I will happily wait here. Jack looked at the gleck, wondering what that was all about but was excited to get to Esteban's and find Amanda.

I shouldn't be long.

Take your time, Duran said, distracted.

Jack hurried through the brush and into the side street that led to Esteban's. The door creaked as always, but an older lady resided behind the counter.

Where is Esteban?

No Esteban work here, señor.

'This was his store for many years, señora."

I am sorry, señor. I know no Esteban. The confusion he was experiencing was too like his meeting with the house servant at Amanda's home."

Gracias.

Jack left the store, glancing up at the sign: Tia Mia's. It looked old as if it had been there for twenty years. What's going on? His heart sank. The store was his best chance at finding Amanda, yet it was another dead end. He headed back into the brush, looking for his gleck, which was easy, as Duran was howling and giggling in high shrills through the trees.

What's going on, Duran?

Just having lunch. Have a mango. These fruits are fabulous. The ripe ones are particularly good. S-o-o s-w-e-e-et. Ha.

Duran, those ripe ones have started fermenting. You have wine back in your time, right?

Right you are, Jacko.

It's the same thing. You're drunk.

Well, they never let me have wine before. Now I know why, the selfish bastards. Duran stumbled sideways before stabilizing herself.

Okay, that's enough. No more mangoes. Along with your first drink comes your first hangover, and I'm not sure I want to see that.

I'm not sure what you mean, but if it's anything like this, bring it on!

Trust me, it is nothing like being drunk. It's the penalty you pay for feeling so good.

It'll be worth it.

"I'll ask you that again in the morning. Right now, I need to go back