Ruins of Pictor

By Mark McDonough

Antiquity Journals #1
Aliens don’t exist. Humans are alone in the galaxy. Except we’re not. Aliens do exist. It’s just this part of the galaxy that’s devoid of alien life.
Ancient ruins of a civilization have been discovered on another world. Solving the galactic-sized mystery of who built it requires a special group of people with a unique set of skills. While their parents are examining some alien ruins, Zack, B, Grant, Dana and Gordy get a chance to explore the planet. But a mishap lands them deep underground in a part of the ruins that no one knows about.
Will what they discover down there solve the mystery or add to it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark McDonough
• Release date: Jul 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215747094

Mark McDonough

Mark McDonough has lived his whole life in Queensland, Australia. After growing up in Ipswich, he lived for a short time in Brisbane while attending University. Work then took him to Far North Queensland for a number of years before he moved to his current home of Toowoomba. For as long as Mark can remember, there have been characters clamouring to have their stories told – everything from the depths of time when dinosaurs ruled the Earth through to the vast reaches of space where only the bravest spaceships dare to fly and everywhere in between. Most were written in secret until, one day, those characters demanded that their tales be spread far and wide. Thus, was born Stargon Books. When he's not sitting with laptop or notebook in hand, he can be found at work, with his family or out on the football field where he not only plays but also referees and Coordinates an entire competition. Ultimately, Mark dreams of the day when he can write full time but until then, as he says, "I'm a wordsmith, it's who I am; if I didn't write, I wouldn't be me".

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THE RUINS OF PICTOR

Antiquity Journals 1

By Mark McDonough

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2023 Mark McDonough

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to http://www.smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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THE RUINS OF PICTOR

Antiquity Journals 1

Chapter One

May 4

I’m getting sick and tired of it! It’s everywhere. Non-stop. Honestly, I thought being out here in the middle of nowhere, with next to no people around, the closest town – if you can even call a half dozen hovels surrounding the lamest general store you’ve ever seen a town – we’d be at least somewhat isolated from it.

But noooo! Every news feed is filled with aliens. Short red ones. Green ones. Purple ones. Aliens with tails. And if that wasn’t enough, now there’s ones that look like overgrown grasshoppers! I thought that it’d die down, that people would lose interest. How wrong can a guy be? Now my stupid teacher has decided that we need to write a stupid report about stupid aliens. What do I care? That’s all out there. There’s more than enough weird stuff here on Planet Earth without worrying about extra-terrestrial garbage as well.

What’s even worse is that the grasshopper alien stuff is now history. I get enough history no matter where I go. The curse of being the only son of a pair of archaeologists.

---

Zack? Zack are you here?

The teen in question sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, inadvertently pushing his glasses up and away from his eyes. Where else would he be? It wasn’t as though there were any other kids his age around that he could be hanging out with. And there definitely wasn’t anything fun to do around a dig site.

In here, Mum, he replied.

The soft patter of footsteps preceded the face of his mother appearing in the doorway. Seeing him, she smiled and stepped forward into his bedroom. A frown appeared on her face behind her glasses and it wasn’t until her hand started to move towards the switch on the wall that he understood; he hadn’t even realised the time.

You might want to turn a light on, she said, glancing down at her now-stilled hand halfway to the switch. Sitting in the dark staring at that computer is bad for your eyes.

Zach grunted even as he leant forward to the desk lamp. The bright light snapping on had him wincing and turning his head away. When the spots had faded from his eyes, the first thing he noticed was exactly what he expected to see – his mother had obviously come straight in from the dig. Both of her hands were reddish-brown instead of their natural tanned brown, a result of the dirt that filled this entire area. Looking carefully, Zack could even see streaks of dirt covering her shirt and shorts, not to mention a long streak across her right cheek.

Much better, she said, taking a couple of steps closer.

Noticing her eyes focused on the computer screen, her brows under the bangs of hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail puckered, Zack’s heart sped up. His eyes snapped to the screen as well. No. It was alright. He had switched screens. His journal was gone, replaced by a split screen of text on one side and a blank document with nothing but a title on the other.

Homework? she asked.

Yeah, Zack grunted. Mrs Collins gave us a new assignment today.

History, right? his mother asked, now leaning over his shoulder to read the text on the screen. "‘The recently declassified documents stating that Earth was visited by extra-terrestrials one hundred years ago proves that humans could have been interacting in the galaxy much sooner than it was. Describe and discuss the decision to keep this information hidden from the general population of Earth, the reasons for it and give your opinion of this decision.’ Sounds interesting."

Again, Zack grunted. I guess.

You guess? his mother repeated, a surprised tone to her voice. Zach! I’m surprised at you. This is real, relevant history that helped shape the world as it is today. Different decisions could have radically altered what the present looks like today. These last few months have been some of the most exciting in the planet’s history. That you get to live it and see how it’s unfolding is a gift that should not be wasted.

I know, I know, Zack replied. The present of today will one day be tomorrow’s history and it’ll be up to them to study it, just as we study the history of our past, but we get to live it right now.

Your father will probably faint when I tell him that you just quoted him, she smiled.

Best not tell him then, Zach grinned before instantly sobering. "It just doesn’t interest me. Aliens and other planets and space and stuff, it’s all out there. Theoretical. We live here, on Earth."

Yes, we do but there’s history out there, too, you know, his mother said.

Where we’ll never go or need to worry about, Zach replied.

Maybe so, she allowed. But right now, aliens, other planets, invasions-that-never-were, it’s all relevant to Earth right now. And obviously Mrs Collins agrees, which is why she’s given you that assignment. It can, however, wait for a bit. Your father wants you out on the dig.

Why? Zack asked suspiciously.

You’ll have to ask him that, she replied, despite the fact that Zack had no doubts that she knew exactly why he was needed. I promise that it won’t take long and by the time you get back, I’ll have had a chance to get cleaned up and make dinner.

Zack’s eyes brightened at that prospect. What’re we having?

I’ve been at work all day so something simple. Pizza.

From a box? he asked suspiciously.

Zachary, we may live in a remote region of the planet but we’re not uncivilized. We’ll make it ourselves, she smiled.

His mouth watered and his stomach rumbled just at the thought. It’d been ages since he’d had pizza, especially homemade.

Thanks, Mum! You’re the best! Zach beamed, even as he rocketed out of his chair. I’ll go see what Dad wants and we’ll be back in no time.

If she replied, Zack never heard as he raced for the front door and the dig in the valley below.

---

Running through an archaeological dig site was a very big NO! That rule had been drilled into Zack from as far back as he could remember. Whenever he’d been asked about it, his standard answer was that it was the first thing he’d been taught after he’d taken his first steps as a baby. Thus, even before he reached the edge of the site, he’d slowed to a walk, albeit a fast walk.

The site itself was huge, covering nearly five acres, not that all of that area had been worked on. In fact, only a very small percentage of it had been attacked with hand shovels and tiny picks and brushes. Most of it was still barren scrub, awaiting its turn, assuming of course, that the GPR tech showed any need for excavations in that particular area.

The section that the Ground Penetrating Radar had deemed to be filled with ancient debris that Zack’s parents had gushed over as interesting and exciting had been cordoned off and then divided up into grids by a series of string lines. The team had then set about excavating each section one by one, mostly in pairs although there were the odd grids that the lucky undergrads had been assigned to dig out by themselves – not that Zack thought of them as ‘lucky’, but for some bizarre reason, they were always excited and flattered by the idea.

Nothing in how a dig was conducted was new to Zack, he could do it all. He’d been taught how to shoot the sonar into the ground and read the images that the GPR sent back. He could measure and string the grid lines. He knew precisely how to choose which piece of equipment was best to use in excavating an ancient relic. He could even, with some degree of accuracy, work out what anything that was dug up actually was.

Really, how could he not? Most of his life had been spent on dig sites and with two of the most well-renowned archaeologists in the world as parents, they’d made sure of his education. Their one big disappointment – as much as they tried not to let it show – was the fact that, despite all that they’d taught, how good Zack was at it, archaeology and excavating artefacts just didn’t interest him.

Automatically, his practiced eye swept over the dig. Most people were still toiling away at their designated grid, most with small trowels or brushes. An anomaly caught his eye – two of the research students were in a new section: Grid 4G, if Zack wasn’t mistaken. For an instant he wondered what they’d find there, so far from the centre of the main area, but that moment of curiosity was quickly squashed.

And then he found him. His father. The famous Doctor David Longford (insert string of impressive-sounding letters here, all of which Zack knew but none of which he overly-cared about). He was down on one knee, a tiny brush in one hand, the other pointing intently at something still mostly buried in the ground. The fact that there were five undergrads clustered around him, most half-bent to stare at whatever his father was lecturing about screamed that, whatever it was, was incredibly important, probably exciting.

Zack knew better than to interrupt. A shout or racing up to see could easily startle his father or one of the others. And that could lead to disaster – a tool coming down too hard or in the wrong place; a stone kicked; a foot stepping on something it shouldn’t – and then, the discovery being broken, potentially shattered into nothingness.

Instead, Zack took his time. Slowly, carefully, he stepped through the dig site, following the path between the gridlines towards where his father was working.

Dad? he said, keeping his voice low and even.

The man in question paused his narration, his head was the only part of him that moved and that only to turn to the side far enough to see Zack. A smile, a nod that caused a beam of sunlight to glint off of his glasses, acknowledged his presence before his father turned back to what he was doing.

Zack may have been slightly too far away to make out his father’s words but the excited tone told the story enough: there was definitely something there that had his father extremely excited. As tempting as it was to move closer, Zack knew better. Do not interrupt. Do not startle. Do not do anything that might cause this newly discovered piece of an ancient civilization to be compromised in any way.

Finally, his father straightened, looked up, said something and two of the undergrads raced off, or at least raced off as fast as anyone around a dig site ever moved.

Zack! Come take a look at this, his father called.

Hi, Dad, Zack said as he stepped over the string line and down into the grid where his father still knelt. Mum said you wanted me?

You need to see this! his father replied excitedly. His eyes were sparkling even through the longish locks that he refused to take the time to get cut that hung over his glasses. It’s an amazing find!

Something that’ll change all we know about the people who once lived here? Zack asked, barely managing to keep the sarcasm to a bare minimum.

Surprisingly, his father burst out laughing. You know, I just think that it might be.

Zack blinked at him. It was a joke! Well, it was supposed to be?

Two of the undergrads stepped aside, allowing him space to step down into the pit that his father occupied. He nodded to them as he passed, not for the first time dismissing the strangeness of people, even these just a few years older than himself, giving him deference, as though he deserved it. Which he didn’t. They were the ones studying, taking the courses, doing the field work to become archaeologists. He’d simply grown up on digs like this. The son of two archaeologists. Not exactly anything special as far as he was concerned.

His father shuffled slightly to the side, allowing him to get a look at what had everyone so excited.

It was a cylinder of some kind. Most of it, well, a portion of it, Zack amended in his own mind, knowing the importance of being accurate with data, especially when working with unknowns, was still buried in the side of the dig. The section that had been uncovered was approximately fifteen centimetres long, with a diameter of roughly ten centimetres. The dirt had even been uncovered from underneath it, leaving it fully exposed. The most intriguing part of the cylinder, the part that Zack knew would have had his Dad almost salivating at the implications, were the markings that covered it.

Zack reached out a hand from where he was now hunched in front of the cylinder to lightly touch it. The markings were carved into it – the rough feel of each one dragged over his fingertips as he traced them, even with the amount of dirt that still filled the cracks surrounding each glyph.

Cuneiform? he asked, looking at his father in surprise.

Not exactly but definitely something very close, his father replied, a clear look of pride evident.

But… Zack began.

I know! his father replied excitedly. "There should not be something with cuneiform here! Not in this part of the world. Do you know what this means?"

It was extremely clear exactly what had got his father this excited. The implications … even Zack could see them. He stared in wonder at the glyphs, even as his finger continued to trace them, following each marking and their indents in the cylinder.

There were so many glyphs, even in just this part of the cylinder that had been uncovered. What they all meant, Zack had no idea; he didn’t read any ancient languages, even if he could recognise a lot of them.

Dad? he breathed, his fingers suddenly stilling.

His father, though, was in the middle of a lecture once again, one that Zack had tuned out. This crack shouldn’t be there. It wasn’t part of the glyph, in fact, it wasn’t part of any glyph, instead running in the space between two glyphs. If the cylinder was damaged…

Slowly, carefully, Zack let his fingers follow the crack, attempting to see just how badly it was damaged. His fingers went up the side, between another two glyphs and kept on going. When his fingers reached the top, he was forced to shift positions so that his fingers could continue their circling of the cylinder. And continue they did, following the crack in a perfect circle about ten centimetres from the end of the artifact. Once down the opposite side, he shifted again, allowing his fingers to slide under the cylinder and back up to his original starting point.

Dad, he said again, only to be ignored once more.

Dad!

This time, he got a reaction, his father cutting off not only mid-sentence, but mid-word.

What is it, Zack? he asked.

Zack looked at him, connecting their eyes to help convey how important what he had to say was.

"I think this is a tube, he said. Look. Here. There’s a line that circles it. I think it’s got a top that can come off. And if it does…"

Then there could be something inside, his father finished.

What could be in there? one of the undergrads asked.

Could be anything, his father replied.

A scroll, Zack blurted.

That is definitely one possibility, his father nodded. "And judging by the size and shape of the section that we can see, one that seems most likely. Unfortunately, that’s not something that we can determine here and now. Not while it’s still half buried and it should definitely not be opened anywhere but in a secure, sterile environment, preferably one that is hermetically sealed."

Zack nodded in agreement. He’d seen enough mistakes made in his sixteen years of living on digs with his parents that had caused possibly great finds to be destroyed by things being opened in the wrong environment. He might not be an archaeologist and would never be one, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t care about these types of finds. And they were a great deal more interesting and important than aliens and other planets.

Right. We still have a great deal of work to be done tonight, his father, Doctor Longford, stated. We’re not leaving here until this find is completely uncovered, tagged and secured.

Zack stared at him. But Mum’s making pizza.

The pizza’s not going anywhere, his father replied, clapping him on the shoulder. And this could easily be the find of the dig! It’s much, much more important than pizza.

Zack disagreed with that, a fact that the grumble of his stomach agreed with. Not that anything, including the best food in the world, would be able to dissuade his father. Zack had seen him like this before. He was in full archaeologist mode, nothing short of a meteor strike – or perhaps aliens landing in the middle of his dig – would stop him from working all through the night and into tomorrow now. Unfortunately, it seemed that pizza was going to have to wait for Zack as well.

Chapter Two

May 5

Tonight is going to be THE BEST NIGHT EVER! Party at Eve’s and Bre has said that she’s invited Matt. And he’s said that he’ll be there! If all goes to plan, he’ll notice me, we’ll share our first kiss and then…

---

"Bianca! For the third time, please come down here!"

Coming Mother! B shouted back, not caring that there was more than a hint of frustration in her voice.

Slamming her diary closed, she glanced at her bedroom door, confirmed that it was shut, then pulled open the bottom drawer of the bedside table. Only after a second check of the door, did she pull up the false bottom and hide the soft pink leather-bound book inside it.

Then, deciding that the best idea was to go and find out what it was that her mother was yelling about, especially if she didn’t want to get grounded and kept home instead of going to the party, she left her bedroom. The stairs pounded as she raced down, not that she cared about the noise – at least that way her mother would know that she was complying.

I’m here, B announced.

I can see that Bianca. Not to mention that I heard you coming, her mother replied blandly.

Did you need me for something? B asked.

Actually yes, her mother replied, lifting her arms and gesturing at not only the pages in front of her but at the piles of documents sitting to either side of it. As you can see, I’m swamped. I need to go through all of this and compile a report by tomorrow.

O-kay, B replied slowly, closing her eyes, dreading what she knew was coming.

That means, Bianca, that I need you to take Gordy to soccer practice today, wait for him and bring him home afterwards.

But, Mum, Eve’s party, B protested.

Doesn’t start until seven, her mother stated. Which means that you have plenty of time to help me out.

I was going to go early to help set up, B tried, knowing that it was doomed to failure.

"Please, Bianca, I really need