Off The Grid

By Carlos B. Camacho

The story takes place in a South American country, which is another geopolitical arena in the struggle for total hegemonic control of the world between the United States and China/Russia. Taking a break from work, the main characters decide to set out on a perilous trek through uncharted territory in the local mountains. There, they find themselves shut off from the Western Civilization, in an unkown valley where they finally find what they were looking for; an ancient archaeological site, which is in fact an entrance into a far-flung universe. This story is spellbinding, with unexpected twists that will keep you riveted to your armchair.

 

'"Yes, I know. They're already after us. They've got a lot of power and infrastructure. They'll track us down through our phones," Daniel said, glancing at Mario through the rear view mirror and then at Anna. He turned it off and took out the SIM card and the battery. Next he threw them away out of the window, with the different parts landing in the tall grass by the side of the road..."You'll be off the grid but you'll have two means of communication"...In a niche in the stone wall, he also came across a 19th century, strange green glass bottle, with the following legend written in French on a yellowish white label: 'The fountain of eternal youth and a powerful mind opener. Year: 1887...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carlos Benito Camacho
• Release date: Jan 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224994496

Book preview

Carlos B. Camacho

Chapter I

A sandy-haired, 51-year-old man lay on a gurney in the morgue of a private hospital in the city of Tucuman, Argentina. According to his passport, his name was Daniel McKenzie. He was a tourist on his way to the Andean valleys of the northwest, as it had been attested by the travel agency guide, who witnessed the incident.

McKenzie had been stabbed in the shoulder by a pickpocket who tried to steal his wallet on the street. As soon as he had felt the thief’s fingers wiggled into his pants back pocket, he had whisked his assailant’s hand off with a fast swinging whip of his forearm that moved behind him across the lower portion of his back. Just as he had spun around to face the pickpocket, the aggressor plunged his small dagger in McKenzie’s shoulder. Then the thief had run away at full speed, disappearing around the corner. The tour guide had run after him, but the the pickpocket had already gotten lost among the crowd of pedestrians.

Oh my God! Somebody call 911, please! A woman from Buenos Aires had said. She was also part of the group of tourists doing the city tour.

McKenzie had crouched, with one knee resting on the tiled sidewalk. He had screwed up his face in pain. His blue shirt had a rather large purple stain as blood had slowly seeped through the cotton fabric. However, it had not been a serious wound, as the knife blade had not damaged any artery; even though it had sunk in deeply, right below the collarbone, cutting only a couple of secondary veins and capillaries.

I don’t think I need the ambulance. It’s painful but I’m fine. I can still move my hand and arm. It looks like the knife didn’t cut any nerve or tendon, he had said, to the other tourists.

But you still need to go to a hospital to have your wound cleansed and stitched up, and get the antibiotics and antitetanic shots, had said another tourist, who was apparently a doctor.

Is he OK? The tour guide had asked the ambulance paramedics, who had taken about fifteen minutes for them to arrive.

It looks like it’s not a serious wound, but we need to take an x-ray shot to see if his lung wasn’t pierced, and he might stay the night at the hospital, one of the paramedics had said.

Do I have to go along with him? The tour guide had said.

It’s not necessary. We’ll take care of him. Don’t worry, the paramedic had said.

Not only had he been conscious on the way to the hospital but he had also been able to walk and talk normally during the forty five minutes he had waited before he was treated. He had also been awake and cognizant when they cleansed and stitched up his wound as he sat on the examination table in the ambulatory medical room of the hospital.

Ouch, that smarts, he had said, as the nurse squirted antiseptic spray into his wound. Daniel McKenzie was able to speak Spanish fluently.

Now, it’s gonna hurt a bit. I’m gonna suture up the legion tightly, she had said, as she prepared the surgical needle and string.

Then I can go? Daniel McKenzie had asked. But the nurse had not answered as she began to work on the open gash.

There, you are, the nurse had said, as she finally did the last stitch.

Can I leave now? he had asked.

Nope, I still have to give you the antibiotic. It’s gonna be administered through intravenous route. So, lie down on the examination table and roll up your shirt sleeve, she had said, as her cell phone rang precisely at that moment. It