agreement.
“Okay, let me start by saying that all of this is about power.”
“Power?” Dad asks.
“Yes, power. Power over the very elements of the Earth itself. There is supposedly knowledge or possibly a weapon of some kind that was left here by an ancient civilization. That populace, as I’m sure you have figured out, is supposedly Atlantis or at least another civilization that is responsible for the Atlantean myth.”
“You don’t believe its Atlantis?” Dad asks.
“I believe the facts or what I can see with my own eyes,” Kane answers. “But that doesn’t mean my mind can’t be changed.”
“What about the Three?” I ask.
“Right,” Kane says getting back on track. “The Three is the name given to the last three elders of this ancient—but obviously very advanced culture. They were said to be invincible, never aging or dying…ever. They are also supposed to be the great architects of the ancient city eventually known as Atlantis or Attala.”
“Attala?” Dad asks.
“Attala is what some of the local North African tribes call it,” he replies.
“There was a fourth elder too, but he had a falling out—if you will—with his brothers. He didn’t want to use their special talents for constructive purposes.”
“What did he want?” I ask.
“We think he wanted unlimited power and dominion over every living thing on Earth, but we aren’t exactly sure.”
“Yikes,” I say.
“Yep, bad dude.”
“You said they were brothers, all four of them?” Dad asks.
“Yes, but we aren’t sure if they were actually lineal brothers or blood-brothers, like in a secret sect kind of way.”
“Wait a sec, back up Kane. How do you even know that there is anything there to begin with?” I ask. I understand the severity of the situation and that there are others looking for it besides us. The one thing I’m not quite sure of is…
“Have there been other expeditions to Algeria in the past,” I continue. “Maybe covert ones that only a select few know about?”
Kane straightens a little. That’s all I need to know. Yes there has.
“What happened on those other expeditions?” I ask.
“Expedition.”
“What?” I ask not understanding.
“Expedition. As in only one other mission was conducted in the area.”
“Why only one?” Dad asks.
“Because, the eight men who went in never came back, they literally just disappeared off the radar, like the sand just swallowed them up. They each had a GPS unit on them and they all failed. The brass back home just chalked up the loss to a huge sand storm that blew through the area around the time they arrived on location.”
“Just like the one that uncovered our dig,” Dad says staring blankly out the window of the plane.
“That’s what some of the egg-heads back home think too. They think your little site is the same entrance our team tried and failed to find. The difference between now and eight years ago is that we have better tech and better personnel involved.”
“How are we better equipped than special forces soldiers that died out here?” I ask.
“Those men were just that, soldiers. They weren’t versed in the science or history that is involved here. They see a target and engage. You guys are the most learned men alive in this field right now. Uncle Sam, along with some other very influential people, want you to succeed. They do not want Zero to acquire whatever waits for us beneath the sands of the Sahara.”
“Like our own potential deaths?” I ask.
“If it comes to it, yes,” counters Kane.
“We aren’t soldiers!” I boom. I’m not angry at Kane, just the deadly situation we’ve been thrown into. We have no proper training, nor the want to put ourselves in the line of fire.
“All we are going to find out there in the burning desert is,” I point out my window, “sand…blood and sand.”
14
We are greeted by a burst of unrelenting heat as we exit our flying limo, but
“Okay, let me start by saying that all of this is about power.”
“Power?” Dad asks.
“Yes, power. Power over the very elements of the Earth itself. There is supposedly knowledge or possibly a weapon of some kind that was left here by an ancient civilization. That populace, as I’m sure you have figured out, is supposedly Atlantis or at least another civilization that is responsible for the Atlantean myth.”
“You don’t believe its Atlantis?” Dad asks.
“I believe the facts or what I can see with my own eyes,” Kane answers. “But that doesn’t mean my mind can’t be changed.”
“What about the Three?” I ask.
“Right,” Kane says getting back on track. “The Three is the name given to the last three elders of this ancient—but obviously very advanced culture. They were said to be invincible, never aging or dying…ever. They are also supposed to be the great architects of the ancient city eventually known as Atlantis or Attala.”
“Attala?” Dad asks.
“Attala is what some of the local North African tribes call it,” he replies.
“There was a fourth elder too, but he had a falling out—if you will—with his brothers. He didn’t want to use their special talents for constructive purposes.”
“What did he want?” I ask.
“We think he wanted unlimited power and dominion over every living thing on Earth, but we aren’t exactly sure.”
“Yikes,” I say.
“Yep, bad dude.”
“You said they were brothers, all four of them?” Dad asks.
“Yes, but we aren’t sure if they were actually lineal brothers or blood-brothers, like in a secret sect kind of way.”
“Wait a sec, back up Kane. How do you even know that there is anything there to begin with?” I ask. I understand the severity of the situation and that there are others looking for it besides us. The one thing I’m not quite sure of is…
“Have there been other expeditions to Algeria in the past,” I continue. “Maybe covert ones that only a select few know about?”
Kane straightens a little. That’s all I need to know. Yes there has.
“What happened on those other expeditions?” I ask.
“Expedition.”
“What?” I ask not understanding.
“Expedition. As in only one other mission was conducted in the area.”
“Why only one?” Dad asks.
“Because, the eight men who went in never came back, they literally just disappeared off the radar, like the sand just swallowed them up. They each had a GPS unit on them and they all failed. The brass back home just chalked up the loss to a huge sand storm that blew through the area around the time they arrived on location.”
“Just like the one that uncovered our dig,” Dad says staring blankly out the window of the plane.
“That’s what some of the egg-heads back home think too. They think your little site is the same entrance our team tried and failed to find. The difference between now and eight years ago is that we have better tech and better personnel involved.”
“How are we better equipped than special forces soldiers that died out here?” I ask.
“Those men were just that, soldiers. They weren’t versed in the science or history that is involved here. They see a target and engage. You guys are the most learned men alive in this field right now. Uncle Sam, along with some other very influential people, want you to succeed. They do not want Zero to acquire whatever waits for us beneath the sands of the Sahara.”
“Like our own potential deaths?” I ask.
“If it comes to it, yes,” counters Kane.
“We aren’t soldiers!” I boom. I’m not angry at Kane, just the deadly situation we’ve been thrown into. We have no proper training, nor the want to put ourselves in the line of fire.
“All we are going to find out there in the burning desert is,” I point out my window, “sand…blood and sand.”
14
We are greeted by a burst of unrelenting heat as we exit our flying limo, but
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