The Code of N: The Ancient Ones, #1

By Daniel Joseph

"Hi, I'm Parker, and before I found the Device, life was normal. I was a high school freshman with a few close friends and family. That all ended when Iggy dragged me into the basement of an abandoned building and I found…it. Sometimes, I wonder what life would have been like if I hadn't brought it home—but I did.

Within a few days, odd events began happening to me and my friends – and that was before the strangers started visiting us. I'm just starting to unravel these mysteries and the only questions on my mind are: who are these strangers? And will we survive this secret war long enough to find out?"

The long-anticipated debut novel by Daniel Joseph is equal parts fantasy adventure and modern mythology with a bent for the supernatural.

Come read the unexpected series of events that befall Parker and his friends when they discover the truth about the Ancient Ones in: The Code of N!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniel Joseph
• Release date: Nov 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201014704

Book preview

The Code of N

The Ancient Ones, Book 1

by Daniel Joseph

Chapter 1

Iremember what life was like before I found it.

Life was...normal. Which wasn’t a bad thing. I kindof liked normal. I didn’t like high school, but my mom told me it was just because I was in ninth grade. Any high school freshman that tells you school is great is lying. I was above average at soccer, chemistry, and track and I was miserable at basketball, debate, and social studies. Again: normal.

Every morning, I’d wake up, try to go back to sleep, get yelled at by Mom, wake up again, get dressed, shuffle downstairs, throw a water in my backpack, and head outside. (If I was lucky, I’d chug some Juicy Juice straight out of the bottle when Mom and Wendy weren’t in the room.)

Iggy was always waiting outside. Mom said he was an especially loyal friend but I didn’t really see that – he was just my best friend.

Morning, Iggy mumbled as I walked up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. He was staring at his phone. Looks like it’s gonna rain today.

Yeah, I answered, squinting up at the sky. You know the saying: April showers....

April what?

Nevermind.

Iggy shrugged and continued swiping through Reddit or whatever the heck site he was on. He was always chatting with his cyber-pals on a dozen different social media sites – especially ones that weren’t part of the system. His iconic small afro would bounce every time he walked, seemingly held in place by his black, thick-rimmed glasses. He loved wearing loud colors—neon greens, highlighter yellows, hot pinks—that offset with his deep brown skin.

Today it was a white and powder blue windbreaker that covered his torso coupled with the tell-tale smell of sandalwood. You putting that lotion on again? I mumbled thickly.

Every morning, he replied curtly, still tapping away. A few moments later, he slipped his phone into his pocket and buried his hands into his windbreaker. Jeez, you’d think we could get some warm weather around here? It’s April already.

Ha, I’m gonna remind you you said that in July.

Iggy didn’t reply, but held his head higher as other kids came into view, appearing from their front doors – some with backpacks, most looking like they had just rolled out of bed. A school bus rumbled past us and Iggy shook his head. Poor kids. We’re lucky, Parker.

I nodded sagely. Good old Sagebrook Lane. It’s nice to live two blocks away from school. Now there were a half dozen other kids around us as hundreds of teens converged on the center of learning. Ahead, I could see the only intersection between our houses and Calvin Coolidge High School. As we crossed, Iggy and I broke into a jog, jumped, and slapped the green Sagebrook Lane street sign on the other side, making the steel support pole wobble.

"You two are so weird," a girl with a long ponytail said.

"It’s tradition, you casual!" Iggy called before we continued jogging ahead.

As we passed the bike racks, a brunette separated herself from the crowd and waved hello. You have to get rid of that backpack, Parker, she chided, shaking her head.

What, this old thing? Heck no. I slung it off one shoulder and cradled it in my arms. "It has emotional significance, Gardner."

Iggy grinned. You wouldn’t understand.

You’re right, I don’t understand. Gardner rolled her eyes. Everyone called Gardner by her last name. She was the star of the volleyball team in middle school – and had already made varsity in high school, but still... she had always been Gardner since Iggy and I had met her in sixth grade. Everyone called her that except...

Melissa! a boy called from underneath the Pennsylvania state flag that led into school. Zayne.

Right on cue, Iggy sighed.

Gardner punched him in the shoulder. Shut up, she blushed, skipping off toward her boyfriend.

Honestly, how does he do it? I muttered, gesturing at Zayne. He was wearing his classic jeans and single-color V-neck outfit that showed off his athletic arms. It’s like he dates whoever he wants.

No idea, but the guy has nothing else going for him, Iggy scoffed. Let him have it while it lasts. Honestly, his entire life is probably peaking in junior year right now.

I laughed as we entered the main hall, walls painted in soft, unassuming yellows and whites. Iggy and I separated for first period, but would come back together for second and third. Per the usual, I slept through most of social studies as Mr. Winger droned on and on about when Philadelphia was the capital of the United States back in 17-whatever. I’m sure we’ll have another field trip to the Liberty Bell soon, I thought to myself as class ended.

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully until lunch. I strode into the cafeteria and sat down next to Iggy. We were alone in the spot where our friends used to sit. Dangit, Iggy mourned over his pizza slice, "stupid Zayne – now both Becca and Gardner don’t sit with us."

It’s okay, I waved my hand and glanced over at Zayne and Gardner flirting in the corner. They’ll break up by summer. Probably.

I guess, Iggy replied. "What is it with kids our age? Honestly, it’s like they think having a significant other is the best thing in the world. The drama, the ups and downs, it sounds terrible. He took a swig from his Izze and gargled. That’s why I stay single. Less stress."

That’s not why you’re single, Iggy, a boy called as he walked by.

Shut up, Chester, Iggy fired back frowning behind his glasses. He turned back to me with an imperious air.

I shook my head and got up from the table as the bell rang. On my way to class, I stopped by the restroom. While washing my hands, I stared at my reflection amidst the various graffiti on the glass. You know, Iggy’s right. We all try to act like we have this whole thing figured out. We don’t. And it’s easy to see. Gardner, Zayne, all of us – just trying to find ‘love’ because.. well, I don’t know. It’s the best feeling in the world, right? Love. Yech.

My thoughts wandered and I stared at myself in the mirror: messy dirty blonde hair, blue-granite eyes, hollow cheekbones. I was a skinny kid, but I didn’t mind it. Iggy always said I could have been a surfer if we lived in California. And yet, despite my mental rant, I knew deep down that I wished I had whatever it took to be attractive. When girls looked at me, I just shrunk away. Ninth grade isn’t exactly the pinnacle of a guy’s life – or so I hoped – because, if it was, I was missing the boat. I had been crushing on one girl for the whole year and couldn’t even think about her without blushing—

Bro, you good?

I jumped at the sound of the voice next to me. It was Erik, a kid from the track team. He looked confused. You’ve just been staring at yourself for like three minutes, he muttered. I froze and didn’t answer. He pointed at the sink. Water’s still running. I looked down and felt myself blush.

Sorry, I mumbled.

See you later, Erik shuffled past me with a face that was half concerned, half amused.

I quickly shut the tap off and spent an extra thirty seconds drying my hands, trying to stall – but Erik was still in the hallway when I came out. Crap, I put my head down and headed past him and two other kids. They were all smirking. Oh well, I guess it could be worse, I thought, looking down at my shoes to check for toilet paper. Ever since I had seen that stupid movie as a kid, I was mortified I’d leave the bathroom with some of the paper stuck to my shoe. It never happened.

I opened the door to my classroom and held it open for Iggy who walked in behind me. Dude, you good?

Yeah, yeah, I’m just spacy today I guess, I mumbled. Iggy nodded knowingly. This wasn’t the first time this had happened.

After class, we resumed our conversation as if it had never ended. There was only five minutes until our next class, but Iggy led me away from the knots of kids around the plaza. The murky gray clouds overhead had started to release their rain so we stayed under the overhang. So why were you spacy today? Iggy asked good-naturedly.

I don’t know, I rolled my eyes. Just... trying to figure all this out.

Dude, you’re fifteen. You don’t have to figure anything out.

Yeah, speak for yourself, Mr. Confidence.

I’m not confident. He looked down at his feet.

Yeah, but you sure act like it. I’m over here bored out of my mind. I play two sports a year, we built the entire Eiffel Tower from scratch in Minecraft last month, I get decent grades, I just... is it normal to be this bored at fifteen? Like what else do we get to do? What are we even gonna do this summer? Watch the next season of Outer Banks?

You were thinking about Jill Cho, huh?

Yes! I threw up my hands at the mention of the girl I liked. "But it’s not about Jill Cho. She’s a senior and I’ll never have a chance with her. I just want... I want to do something different."

Iggy nodded and stayed silent, staring out at the light rain as it spattered on the courtyard pavement. I dunno, man. Let’s get out of here.

What? I looked at him in confusion.

Like... let’s go. Brian told me about this abandoned building over by Jerry’s Pawn Shop. Let’s go check it out.

Jerry’s? That’s like an hour walk.

Yeah. I know, so let’s go.

Now? The bell rang for our next class and we locked eyes. We hadn’t skipped class in at least a year. I hadn’t forgotten the shade of red my mom had turned – or how long I had been grounded. Iggy silently waited. I put my thumbs behind the straps of my backpack, mind racing. I vacillated one more time and then nodded. You know what? Fine. Let’s do it.

WE JOGGED TOWARD THE side entrance that opened up on Loggerhead Drive and got a few confused glances from the kids heading the other direction toward the classrooms. But, no one said anything, and we put up the hoods on our windbreakers as we ran out into the rain. It wasn’t raining hard, but my Converse were soaked through by the time Jerry’s Pawn Shop came into view.

Brian said it was over here, Iggy pointed. We stepped off the sidewalk as a peal of thunder rolled overhead.

Dang. Wish it wasn’t raining, I commented as we jogged down the gravel path that led away from the main road. Trees lined the winding path on both sides, giving it a secretive feel as we jogged with the crunch crunch of gravel beneath our feet.

Iggy didn’t respond, peering through the water droplets on his glasses at the trees ahead of us. The whole property was overgrown and the path curved sharply; from the road you would never know there was a building behind the tree line. As we turned the corner, we saw an old horizontal bar gate that blocked the path with a No Trespassing sign. It was meant to stop vehicles; we easily ducked under it. I looked over my shoulder at the treetops swaying in the storm as another clap of thunder reverberated overhead. Jeez, we must be in the center of the storm, Iggy called back as the rain picked up.

I counted the seconds between the thunder and the flash of lightning that lit up the afternoon sky, a technique Mom had taught me when I was young. Each second was a mile, or something like that. Iggy was right: we were less than a mile away from the center of the storm.

As we rounded the final twist in the path, both of our jaws dropped: an old building squatted in the rain like a fat bullfrog. It was a rotting mixture of browns and grays, looking especially dreary in the thunderstorm. Across the front was a timeworn sign, paint fading, that read: Bowery’s Iron Works.

Woah, Iggy and I whispered in unison. We stood, surveying the knee-high weeds in front of the building and the water running off the collapsing tin roof.

How long has this been abandoned? Iggy muttered.

Dunno. You said Brian was here?

Yeah, but I don’t know if he went inside, Iggy answered hesitantly.

We walked up to the gate in silence. The front doors were built like a barn’s—big enough for a pickup to drive through. A thoroughly rusted chain and lock stretched across them, heavy and menacing. Iggy tugged on it while I looked back at the way we came. No one can see us in this rain, I thought to myself consolingly. It’s turned into a downpour.

Hey, Iggy grunted, jerking the chain again. I think we can move it; help me.

I slipped my hands around the chain and yanked it. Iggy was right; something was bending when we pulled.

Alright, on three, Iggy ordered, pushing his glasses higher on his nose. "One... two... three!"

We both pulled as hard as we could. Pop! The chain came loose and we slipped onto our backs in the mud.

"Dangit! Iggy exclaimed, standing quickly and looking down at his clothes. This jacket is ruined."

I frowned in disgust– my jeans, already soaked, were now caked in mud. But we immediately forgot about our clothes as the doors swung open with a slow creeeaaak.

We both wanted to go inside, but couldn’t move, frozen by the darkness ahead of us. Iggy whipped his phone out and flicked the flashlight on; I followed suit before we stepped out of the rain – my phone’s screen was cracked like a spiderweb, but the light still worked just fine.

Well, that’s better, Iggy muttered, shaking his arms as if that would make us any drier. Even the hair under my hood was wet, blonde strands plastered to my head and neck. I shivered as I held my light up high – the Iron Works was spacious, but the old roof sagged and water dripped from it in a dozen different places. I heard the quiet cooing of nested birds from somewhere in the depths and most of what my flashlight uncovered was old, rusted, and defunct hunks of wood and metal.

Do you know what any of this stuff is? Iggy asked, putting a hand on a metal cylinder.

Nah, I mumbled. Do you know what an Iron Works does?

Makes metal? Iggy shrugged, looking at me briefly through the raindrops on his glasses. He turned and began walking deeper into the building.

I followed, pausing to look at some graffiti on the wall. I shone my phone’s light on the red lettering as I stepped closer. Hey, what do you think this means? I called to Iggy. He turned and walked over while I read the spray-painted words.

They are real.

Iggy pointed at one word below the rest: Run.

I grinned and looked at him from under my hood. Creepy, right? We both laughed and kept exploring, leaving the red letters behind us in darkness.

Near the middle of the structure, Iggy pointed at the roof. Look, a hole. Sure enough, a jagged gap a few feet wide punctured the darkness, shining diffused light and showering rain into the musty cavern below. Iggy kept on walking, exploring with his phone as he went. I stayed behind, watching the rain pitter-patter onto the old dirt floor. I held my hand out to catch it, looking down at the small puddle on the ground – only there was no puddle.

Hold up, I muttered, kneeling down. Where’s the water? I whispered to myself. The dirt was striped in an odd fashion where the water fell, but the liquid sunk into the dirt immediately, leaving almost no trace of where it had been. Realization struck me. There must be something underneath here – a basement or crawlspace. I immediately put my phone down beside me and started swiping at the dirt, kicking up small clouds of dust as I pushed it to the side.

The loose dirt was only an inch deep and, underneath, a set of wooden slats like the ones used to build the walls. I ran my hands along the length of the slats, looking for an opening if I could find one. Glancing up, I saw Iggy’s flashlight shining at the far end of the Iron Works. I can call if I need him, I thought. No problem. Eventually, my fingers came to a stop at an odd hole in the floor. There. The light from the hole in the roof showed it was a perfect circle.

Weird, I muttered, maybe they put a pole here, or... I slipped a finger in the hole and tugged on it. With a groan, the entire floor ahead of me for a few feet lifted up from the rest of the wooden slats. It’s a trapdoor. I grinned, eyes sparkling. "Iggy! I called. My voice echoed inside the structure for a few seconds, then evaporated. No response. Dude, come see what I found!"

After a few seconds of silence, I shrugged. His loss. I grabbed my phone and shone its light down the steps into the darkness. Taking two slow steps down, I hesitated, glancing back up at the hole in the roof and listening for any sounds of Iggy above.

I looked back down and froze. I thought I had seen a light flash. A red dot in the darkness. What the heck... I whispered. I stood on the steps, ready to run, halfway into the dark basement. My heart raced and I gripped the ledge feverishly, prepared to retreat the way I came. I’m losing it... I muttered. And then it flashed again.

Unmistakably this time, a red dot of light had blinked in the darkness. It had winked for a split-second before going dark again, shrouded in the inky blackness of the basement. Some kind of machine was down there, somehow shining light after all these years. I realized I was holding my breath in anticipation, waiting for something that didn’t come. The light blinked again.

Dude, what are you doing? I whispered to myself, exhaling. Stop being scared, it’s probably a smoke detector from 1940 or something. With a fake laugh and faker courage, I released my hold on the ledge and stepped down into the basement.

Chapter 2

The dirt and dust were thicker down here, so my light didn’t shine as far. Every step kicked up particles, so I covered my mouth and squinted as I shuffled forward. The roof was a little too low, forcing me to stoop. I stepped cautiously and swept my light around in a semi-circle, ready to bolt at any sign of danger. It was eerily quiet down here, with only the drip, drip, drip of water breaking the silence. My footsteps were muffled in the gathered dust as I shone my phone back and forth. But I couldn’t see anything. Shadows and shades gathered in the background, amorphous shapes that I couldn’t decipher.

Every few seconds, the red light would blink and I would glare at the dark spot where it disappeared. I kept my shirtsleeve over my mouth, trying my best not to breathe as I inched forward in anticipation. Soon, my light shone on a pile of debris: Wood, dirt, even moss from where the water fell through the cracks in the floor – and everywhere, dust settled like a spreading plague that had overtaken everything. Out of this pile, the light flashed again and I knelt down to get a closer look. The gleam of metal reflected my phone’s light.

No way... I whispered as I stretched out my hand slowly. I gingerly wiped off some of the dust and then waited... but nothing happened. The red light flashed again, and soon, I was moving some of the cracked wood beams and dirt away from the strange metallic object. Careful, it could be a bomb, I muttered to myself, half-joking as I pushed away a strand of blonde hair from my eyes and left a grimy streak of black dust and grease on my forehead.

In a few seconds, I uncovered the object and was studying it carefully. What are you? I murmured, peering hard at the hand-sized metal shape in the sharp flashlight. It was rectangular, sticking out of the pile at an odd angle – as if it was dropped below the floor in an accident. Sorta looks like a big USB stick, I murmured. My pulse quickened as I contemplated the best way to move it. It was small enough to pick up, but what would happen if I did? I reached out slowly, holding my breath.

Just as I was about to touch it, a voice echoed across the barn. I flinched and jumped backward in fear, trying to place the sound. Then it came again – it was Iggy calling upstairs. "Parker! Parker!"

Down here! I called back, my voice sounding hollow in the cramped basement.

A few moments later, Iggy’s afro appeared in the entrance.