"Mr. Davis?" a soft voice called, "Mr. Davis, are you ready?"

John looked around as he jolted awake. He didn't know when he fell asleep and was greatly disoriented. He found himself sitting on a white bench in a long white hallway that was filled with a pure white light. There were others on the bench with him. An old woman was sleeping to his right and a young soldier sleeping to his left. In fact, everyone sharing the bench was asleep except for him.

"Ah, Mr. Davis welcome," a rather good-looking man dressed in a white business suit with matching tie and leather shoes and holding a folder smiled at him.

"Where...where am I?" John asked as he took in his surroundings again.

"Hmmm, of course. What is the last thing you remember?" asked the man in white.

"I believe I was getting ready for work. Yes, that's it!" John said as the memories flooded back. "I remember my chest was hurting so I was trying to put on my pants before I called 911. Then...well, I guess I blanked out. Is this the hospital?"

"Oh, no," chuckled the man. "You are quite dead. Remember the near death stories you heard about with the light at the end of the tunnel?"

"Yes, so this is the light, huh?"

"Not quite. But we'll try to get you there."

"So you're an angel?"

"Well, sort of. I'm sorry, I've totally forgot to introduce myself. I'm the Advocate. In fact, right now I'm your advocate and we have to prepare your case. But please call me Lou," smiled the advocate as he shook the astonished Davis's hand.

"Now if you will follow me," Lou said as he led the way down the hall towards an office on one side. Their footsteps echoed down the seemingly endless hall.

The two men then entered the white office with the same radiance as found in the hallway. There was a white desk and two white office chairs. A leather executive chair was behind the desk and a plain white chair was in front of it. Lou offered the plain chair to John who sat down before the advocate seated himself on the other side of the desk.

"OK, let's get down to work," smiled the advocate. He then proceeded to open the file and looked over the contents. Lou then took out a form and pen out of the desk drawer and placed it on top of the desk next to the file. He then began to fill in some lines. John tried to see what he was writing but was unable to make out the script.

"It says here you were a politician. That's a tough road."

"Yeah, it was. A lot of hard hours and a big work load everyday," John said as he began to smile.

"Sorry, I meant it must have been hard to be faithful to your job and to Him," Lou replied.

"Oh, yeah," chuckled John. "But you'll notice that my party fought to uphold His word. I'm proud to be a Christian."

The advocate then scribbled something down as he nodded, "Yes, that's very good. But political affiliations aren't worth much up here. Though the being a Christian will definitely help out.

"You went to church every week and you read your Bible and prayed everyday. That's good," Lou commented as he continued to scribble on the form never taking his eyes off his work.

John smiled with pride. It looked like he'd back the right horse after all. Not just in believing but in following his convictions.

"Uh-oh," Lou looked up from the files and glared at John. "It says here you had an affair on your wife."

John turned red, cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly. He never thought about this end of it when he was cheating on his wife, but he did get caught on Earth so it was only bound to be found out up here.

"I...uh, I did repent," John finally said.

"Good, good," Lou smiled and scribbled something on the form.

The advocate then began to rifle through the papers in the file looking for something. It took only a moment for him to locate it then he sat it in front of it.

"Ah, here it is. This is where I meant it was a tough road being a politician. It says here you rallied support for a war."

"Yes, of course. We were trying to free those people that were being oppressed by their leader. It was a hard fought road and many of our troops paid the ultimate sacrifice, but it was worth it. I would like to shake every soldier's hand for their work."

"Quite," smiled Lou as scribbled some more on the form. "It can be arranged, but please there is no need for grand speeches here. We just need to prepare your case."

"Sorry, force of habit," John replied.

"I see you also have some interesting legislation that you proposed and passed."

"Uh-huh, you'll notice that I helped reduce the tax burden and I cut Welfare spending in half. So that the money went back to the people who earned it therefore they could lead a better life."

Lou wrote on the form again and smiled. "I think we have enough here. Let's meet the judge."

Lou gathered the form and files and then shoved them into a white briefcase that he pulled out from under the desk. He snapped the clasps and stood up.

John stood up and followed the advocate out of the office. They went down the hallway again. The footsteps again resonating with the click-clack of four feet walking down the long hall. Lou led them to a set of white double doors on the side of the wall.

The advocate stopped a moment and adjusted his tie. He smiled and winked at John. John now became self conscious of what he was wearing. He had on the pants that he was struggling to put on before he died and a t-shirt. Davis frowned at Lou and motioned towards his clothes.

"Don't worry He doesn't care how you are dressed. Trust me most come in with a lot less on. But please, we have to hurry," Lou soothingly said as he ushered John into the large courtroom.

There weren't any pews, but everything was the same bright white that everything else was up here. Very monochromatic John noticed. There was a large desk at the end of the room. Lou showed John to one of the two chairs behind a smaller table that was situated in front of the judge's desk.

Behind the desk was an olive skinned man. He had short hair with long forelocks, a beard and a large nose. His face showed the years of one who had lived outside and traveled a long road. But his eyes were different. They were a soft brown with a compassionate look. Their penetrating gaze seemed to strip away a person and get at their core.

"Rabbi Immanuel," Lou began. "This is Mr. John Davis recently deceased. We are here to gain admittance."

John was momentarily taken aback that his judge was a Jew, a Rabbi and not to mention a man of Middle Eastern descent.

"Please, Mr. Davis. Your reaction shows your true heart," the judge said with a soft but stern voice. "Yes, I am a Jew and a Rabbi. I was born in the Middle East, but in what is now Israel. Some call me Immanuel, you know me as Jesus."

John looked ashamed. He knew that Jesus was a Rabbi and Jew. It was that he didn't look at all like how the pictures portrayed him. There was no long flowing hair, pale skin, or blue eyes.

"Mr. Advocate you may begin your case," Jesus said.

"Yes, sir. My client is a devout Christian which is what has guided his path in life. Mr. Davis devotedly went to church, prayed, read the Bible and tried to defend the word. He also through the power of his political career tried to help out his fellow man by easing their burden and freeing them from tyranny. These are only some of the great things he did on Earth. The rest you know.

"You will note that my client did have an affair on his wife. But he did repent his actions and asks for forgiveness. In my eyes, this is the only major stain on my client's good record.

"We formally request that Mr. John Richard Davis be allowed to be with the Father. Thank you," with that Lou sat down.

"Mr. Davis, please rise," Jesus motioned toward John.

John stood up behind the table and looked up at his Lord. He was nervous, a feeling he hadn't felt for years on Earth. He'd always been in control down there, here he felt like a third grader being quizzed by his teacher in front of the class.

"Your advocate laid out a pretty convincing case. But there are some discrepancies that we need to address.

"You are a professed Christian and you did read of my works and know of my ways. You did give donations every week and you did send money to charities. But your practice was only superficial.

"You rarely tithed. You had plenty of money, but you even held some of it back from God. Even your work showed that you chose money to be your true master.

"Yes, you gave tax breaks to help others, but those others you were helping were the wealthy. The poor remained poor and their lots were not improved by your legislation. As for the Welfare cuts you hurt more people than you helped.

"No, no, Mr. Davis, please don't interrupt," the Rabbi forestalled John's protest.

"I know you thought that most of the people on welfare, and unemployment for that matter, were lazy or taking advantage of the system. That, my sir, is not for you to judge. They too will be in front of me, but the fact of the matter is that those who desperately needed the help were denied and turned away.

"You also used your elected position to favor war. You know my stance on war. Now, I don't expect people to let genocide wipe out another race. But, I do expect those who take up my name to think three times before going to war. One of the reasons given for this war was to free the people, but that was after other reasons were given and found to be untrue. This was not a just war.

"As for your affair, you said you repented and asked for forgiveness. That is denied."

John gasped and protested, "But, but you said if one asked for forgiveness it would be given."

"That is true, but here is my reason. You repented getting caught, not the fact you cheated on your wife. If your transgression wasn't discovered you would have continued with it. True repentance is from the heart and there in lies my forgiveness. Thus in this case, it is denied.

"Mr. Davis you are not an evil man, but you are unfortunately a hypocrite and as a true follower you are held to a higher degree. You must live and follow my ways. Many people have tried and failed like you have. The road as you know is not easy.

"Yes, the Bible is confusing on some points and contradictory in others, but one thing remains the same throughout, my word. Love thy neighbor. It is easy to remember.

"All I asked was that you follow the commandments and try to help your fellow human beings out. Lessen the misery of the less fortunate and spread your wealth amongst all. This is the love of our Father.

"So it is with much regret Mr. Davis but your petition is denied. Lucifer, you may take this man."

Jesus stood up and exited out of the back of the courtroom.

John stood there with his jaw agape. He slowly turned to his advocate and looked at him hard.

"Yes, yes, I know. Where are the horns and tail? Well, to be honest there aren't any. It was just a little invention by your medieval artists to scare people. The beast and all that ... you know."

Lucifer turned John toward the entrance out of the courtroom.

"Now, hell isn't fire and brimstone you know. But unfortunately it is the absence of Him. To be truly alone with yourself I don't wish on any man."

"I know your next question too. I am just doing a job here. For the Father to find out those who truly love and accept him, he had to introduce free choice and that means 'good and evil'. Now, we angels, yes even a so called 'fallen' one like myself, have no choice in worshipping Him. We know Him and what He has done. Plus, I have read Revelations. No one can beat Him.

"But you humans are his pride and joy; He wants you to turn toward him by choice. That is the test of true love and devotion."

The two continued to walk down the hallway as Lucifer continued to talk to John as he led him towards another door. This one black.

Brian O'Reilly was sitting in his wheelchair in his cell on death row. The state would execute him in an hour from now, and he had just finished his last meal. He was sitting quietly when the guard came followed by a priest.

"Brian O'Reilly, this is Father Dwayne McGuinness. He is here to prepare you for your execution."

"Hello Father"

"Greetings my son. That will be all guard. Now Brian is there anything that you want to tell me?"

"Father, I deserve the sentence I am about to receive. I have not been a good person, and I have lived far longer than I should have."

"Tell me about it my son."

I was the oldest of six kids. We were very poor. So, when I was 11 years old, I began my life of crime. It was more important to me to get food to eat than to go to school. I would spend my class time figuring out how to put food on our table, and the teachers let me.

I had been stealing and fighting regularly. While I wasn't making a great deal of money, I was putting food in our mouths. I had a few scrapes, but there wasn't anything I couldn't handle.

One day, I stole from an Asian grocery, and a gang of 10 guys jumped me. They said that this grocery was protected by Hung Lo. They told me that I would have to pay for my theft.

I didn't know Hung Lo from nothing. I was just a kid. They tried all of their chop socki on me, but they didn't know how to fight. I was an everything-goes street fighter. I didn't know any rules. So, I held my own until the cops came and we scrammed.

As has it, they had a spy follow me home. The next day, a note comes addressed to my mom from Hung Lo. He wanted to see me. Ma was getting upset with my behavior and she made me go see him. I thought for sure I was done for.

I was shaking like a leaf when Ma and me went to see him. I was more afraid of the wrath of Ma than some Asian dude. Ma drug me into this guy's office and tossed me into a seat.

"What's this all about?" she asked.

"I would like to give your son a job," he replied.

I was stunned. He was going to make me pay for what I had stole by making me work for it. Ma agreed to the deal, and I began working for Mr. Lo at nights and on weekends.

At first, it was all legit. I hung flyers. I swept floors. I delivered messages. I did the usual young kid jobs. I got paid in cash, and I put some food on the table.

I would occasionally have scrapes with his young muscle. They were all about testing me. The kids my age were all a head shorter than me. I would clean their clocks easy. The kids my size were a few years older, and a little more difficult, but I still held my ground.

After a year or so of these odd jobs, Mr. Lo started to give me free Hopkido lessons. It was some martial arts training, and I really dug it. It started out all joint locks and pressure points. Eventually, we learned about how to use a person's own weight and energy against them.

I took to it quite naturally. I would still get tested now and again, but I was quite a bit more fluid. Someone would rush me and before they knew what was happening they were flying into the ground.

I began walking with a bit of a swagger. I started looking for fights. Whenever I was challenged, it took a couple of seconds and it was over. They would be lying on the ground with this or that bone broken. I was a tough guy now.

Eventually, Mr. Lo called me into his office with a task. Someone was behind in their payments on something or other. I was like 14 or 15. I would walk into some store and ask for the payment. The guy would come back with this or that excuse, and I would insist.

Of course, the storeowner would laugh at me and end up bleeding. They all paid. I got a big raise after a couple of these jobs. Later, all I would have to do was walk in. "The Kid is here for the money," I would proclaim.

I trained and worked. I even managed to graduate from high school. Well, I barely graduated. I had to make a big decision. What was I going to do with my life. I told Mr. Lo that I was moving on.

I joined the military. I am not allowed to tell you what I did, but let us say that I was good at my job. Lots of people felt the sting of 'The Kid'. I really enjoyed the work, but I hated the politics of it all. I would do a job according to plan, and some yahoo somewhere would complain about this or that aspect.

When my tour was up, I left. I was a first class killing machine without a job. I was a fry cook for a while. I stocked the shelves at this and that store. I never could make a job stick. They were all boring. So, after a while, I looked up Hung Lo again.

He didn't have a job for anyone with my talents, but he said he would check around. He sent me to a guy named K.W. Kitterman. Mr. Kitterman could put my skills to work.

I did the same work that I did in the military, but without the politics. It was the perfect job for me. I began taking Ninjitsu lessons because they helped me do my job. 'The Kid' soon became a Ninja.

I disappeared into the world of the Ninja. I only appeared to inflict death. The only ones to see me were soon no longer capable of reporting what they saw. I was a ghost. I was a shadow in the night.

I had many missions and was making a great deal of money fulfilling those missions. However, that was all to end when Mr. Kitterman contracted me to kill Mr. Long Wang. He is why I am here.

Mr. Wang was a very powerful man. In fact, he was acquainted with Hung Lo. If I wanted to do my job without worrying about politics, I didn't question why I was to do this job. It wasn't my place to ask why he was to be killed. It was just a job.

I easily infiltrated Mr. Wang's estate, and I waited for him in his bedroom. I made a minor mistake, and I alerted him to my presence. Those cursed squeaky floors!

Mr. Wang was a very skilled fighter. He had a great deal of training. He took my sword away from me quite easily. It was going to be unarmed combat for a while. I would strike and he would block. He would strike, I would counter, and he would block. It was a back and forth fight for quite a while.

He knew several styles of Kung Fu. He was obviously an accomplished teacher of the martial arts. He knew a vast array of techniques. He knew some techniques that I thought were only legends. Stories they tell others so they fear you and you don't have to fight. He knew of those kinds of techniques.

We had been going back and forth for a while, and he begins telling me the technique he is using. He is yelling "Flying Monkey Fist" and "Striking Snake" and the like. To me it is all gibberish. I just take his move and counter it like I was trained in Hopkido.

I was getting tired. I had never fought anyone for so long before. I decided I was going to end it by going for my sword. We exchange attacks, and in doing so, I work towards my sword. A few more moves, and I will have it. Again, he is yelling "Hammering Jaguar Claw" and "Crane Fish Strike"!

At this point in the fight, I make my first mistake. I take my eyes off him and look at my sword. He yells "Five Point Palm Exploding Heart!" and lands it on my chest. I manage to grab the sword and open him up. He stops and laughs.

I thought how strange it was that a man would get nearly cut in two and laugh. So I asked him what was so funny.

He said, "We are both dead. I landed my last ditch technique. After you take five steps, your heart will explode."

I took a step to lop off his head and finish the job, and I took one step back, but I haven't taken one since. The police found me sitting there with the bloody sword in my hand. I was just sitting on the floor. They asked me to get up, but I said that I couldn't. They dragged me out, and I have been in this wheelchair ever since.

"Father, I don't know if the good Lord will forgive what I have done..."

"My son, if you truly repent your sins, the good Lord will forgive you."

"Thanks Father. I am truly sorry for the pain that I have inflicted."

"It is time to go now."

The guard came and opened the cell. The priest arose and began praying for Brian's soul. The guard worked his way behind the wheelchair and began to push it out of the cell. Brian waved to have him stop, and he got up. He took three steps and fell over dead. The Five Point Palm Exploding Heart technique finally took Brian O'Reilly after a lengthy trial and several years on death row.

Rebecca Strong carried the suitcase that contained her belongings up the dirt road to the whitewashed wooden hangar situated near a yellow grass field that served as an airstrip. A tall wooden tower stood next to the hangar, as to its purpose Rebecca could not guess. The young woman continued to walk toward the opening in the 100-degree New Mexico summer. The heat was dry and stifling. Rebecca was sweating heavily; her damp chestnut hair clung to her head.

Rebecca was here to meet her father Dr. Hugo Strong, who was a rather well known archaeologist from the University of Chicago. He was currently studying some Anasazi ruins in the area. The archaeologist had requested if Rebecca was available, that she could spend some time working in the field with him during the summer. This would be the first time the two spent any time together since Rebecca's mother died nearly three years ago during the Spanish Flu epidemic.

Dr. Strong took the death of Rebecca's mother particularly hard. Fortunately, some of Hugo's close friends saved his career when the archaeologist took to heavy drinking. With the Prohibition Act, drinking was dangerous, just being in possession of liquor landed one in jail. Hardly something the University would look kindly on regardless of his achievements.

Nevertheless, Rebecca was excited to do some fieldwork with her father. She doubted that she herself would ever find anything thrilling again after her mother's death. But, then last year with the passage of the 19th amendment, the world appeared to open up for a young woman. With the right to vote, Rebecca was sure that even new opportunities would soon unfold for her. Being in the field with her prestigious father was an adventure never dreamed of before and it was just one example.

Nervously, Rebecca approached the open hangar doors. She did not know what to expect. She had only seen aircraft from a distance before. This too would prove to be another adventure. She heard a voice talking from inside, but there was only one side to this conversation.

"Must be talking to himself," Rebecca mused.

The young woman poked her head around the doublewide doorway. Inside she saw a yellow 1920 HCS Stutz Roadster II parked on one side of the huge open room. Behind the car there were tools hanging on the wall with various metal drums on the floor next to tall standup locker. On the opposite wall from Rebecca, there was a door. A sign hung from its knob that said "Gone Fishing". Across from the yellow vehicle, was a man in tan coveralls wearing headphones over a ball cap and sitting in front of what looked like the wireless telegraph she had seen once on board a cruise ship. He appeared to be speaking to it instead of tapping at telegraph key, as one would expect.

"I roger that Sparky, over and out," the man replied.

"Uh...excuse me," Rebecca stammered, "I'm here to meet a Mr. James MacKinnon."

The man spun around in his wooden swivel chair and glared at the intruder. Rebecca felt uneasy, as the man looked her over as if she were a piece of merchandise. The man himself was in his early twenties, had short blonde hair, and wore small round glasses. He was obviously of German heritage.

He stood up and placed the headphones on the table containing his electronic device. The stranger could not have stood more than five and half feet tall and could not have weighed more than 120 pounds. If he planned to attack her, she felt she had an even chance of beating off any advances.

"I'm sorry, you must be Miss Strong," the man began. "I am Dan Edwards. I've just been informed," Dan motioned toward the electronic device on the table, "that Mac should be here in about half an hour."

Rebecca stood there for a couple of uncomfortable minutes staring at Dan. The young man just stared back at her.

"Uh...may I come in?" Rebecca finally asked.

"Oh! I'm sorry, please do," Dan rushed over to help Rebecca with her luggage as he ushered her into the hangar. He then pulled her over to a chair next to the table he had been sitting at and then he poured her some warm water from a pitcher.

Rebecca took the chair and swallowed down the water. She never thought that warm water could feel so good running down her parched throat. She then looked over at the device that contained most of the table.

"That is a radio," Dan exclaimed with obvious pride and excitement. "I was just communicating to an airfield over at Tucson which also has one."

The look of surprise on Rebecca's face was obvious. Dan cleared his voice preparing to launch into one of his favorite topics.

"Did you know that on Christmas Eve in 1906 Reginald Fessenden read the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke, played ‘Silent Night' on the violin and then wished everyone a merry Christmas in the New England area? Imagine the surprise on the faces of the ships' telegraphers at sea when they heard this over their headphones instead of Morse code." Dan chuckled before continuing.

"After the Great War a lot of us set up our own little broadcast stations to communicate with each other. In fact, just last November 2nd the first commercial broadcast station KDKA in Pittsburgh began broadcasting. Certainly, you must have heard of it?"

Rebecca nodded she had heard of it, but hearing of something and actually seeing were two different things. She looked more intently at the radio set on the table.

Dan picked up the headset and set it against her ear. Rebecca gasped in amazement as she heard voices talking to each other. She did not understand everything that was said with all the "Rogers", "Overs", "Copies", and "Outs" she heard.

Dan pointed to the microphone that sat on the table in front of the device. "It is into this that I am able to talk to my fellow ‘Hams' as they call us."

Rebecca was about to ask another question when she heard an airplane approaching from overhead. Dan grabbed Rebecca by the arm and pulled her toward the open doorway.

"That'll be Mac now," Dan said as the sound of the plane's engine increased overhead. "We can meet him out on the field."

As the two ran out to the field, Rebecca looked up to see a biplane banking toward the field. Rebecca just stared in amazement as the plane descended toward the ground. Soon the aircraft bounced as the landing gear touched the ground. The pilot slowed the aircraft as it approached Dan and Rebecca. The roar of the engine was like nothing Rebecca had ever heard before. Soon the engine coughed as the pilot shut it down.

Rebecca noticed that the plane had two seats. She thought it was strange that the pilot would sit in the furthest one back. It was not long before the pilot jumped out of the cockpit and alighted on the ground.

The man stood at about six feet tall wore a brown leather jacket and a matching helmet. He had a white silk scarf around his neck. He wore khaki pants and brown leather boots that reached over his calves. As the man approached the pair, he raised his flight glasses from his eyes revealing the pale blue irises.

Mac MacKinnon was smiling charmingly when he approached Dan and Rebecca. He pulled off his gloves and slapped Dan on the arm in a friendly manner.

"Dan, my boy, looks like our trip to Mexico will pay off handsomely if I get our cargo to Denver."

"Great Mac, what is it this time? Cerveza, Tequilla?"

"Yes, and yes," Mac laughed as he removed his leather helmet revealing his short brown hair.

"I see that our guest has arrived," Mac turned toward Rebecca who was just standing there in awe. "You must be Miss Strong, you can call me Mac. I see you already met the boy genius Dan ‘the Ham'."

"Please, I'm Rebecca."

Mac nodded and led her back towards the hangar. "Let's not bother Dan as he unloads our cargo and tinkers with the plane. I believe we have some business to conduct."

Mac removed his leather helmet and jacket and tossed them onto the table next to the radio. He poured himself a cup of water and chugged it down in one go.

"When will you take me to see father?" Rebecca asked as the pilot seated himself down onto a chair near the table.

"We can leave in just a few minutes. All I need is the agreed upon payment," smiled Mac.

"I can't believe that you are charging $10 to take me to my father's camp," Rebecca said with a little disbelief. "I could buy a bus ticket for that amount or pay someone else to take me there for far less."

"Well, that is true," Mac chuckled. "But I am the only one who knows where your father is, and it is my business to transport cargo quickly and safely and that comes with a price."

"Cargo! I am just cargo to be transported quickly!" Rebecca angrily responded. Her sudden outburst caught herself by surprise. Yet she was even more surprised to hear Mac laughing.

"Not just quickly, but also safely," he pointed out. "As far as I am concerned, I've never been asked to deliver better ‘cargo'."

Rebecca blushed even though she still felt a little offended by the concept of being cargo. She was about to say something when Dan came walking into the hangar carrying a wooden crate. The sound of clinking bottles could be heard rattling around inside. Dan sat the crate down against a far wall next to the locker.

"Mac, I'll have the Jenny ready to go for your trip in the morning," Dan called over to the pilot. Mac only smiled and nodded toward Dan.

"Jenny?" Rebecca could not help ask. She knew that Mac's affairs were none of her business.

Mac laughed again, "I'm sorry. The Jenny is my plane. We used them as trainers during the Great War. It had a top speed of 75 miles per hour, but Dan wasn't happy with that." Mac pointed over to the bowing mechanic. "No, he modified her until she can do over 100 miles per hour. In fact, he did the same with my car over there." Mac pointed over to the yellow roadster. Dan just beamed with pride over Mac's praise.

"Speaking of which, I believe I have a delivery to make. But first..." Mac cut himself off and winked at Rebecca.

"Yes of course," Rebecca pulled out ten dollars and handed them over to Mac. Mac handed them over to Dan, who in turn stuffed them into his front coverall pocket.

In less than a minute, the yellow vehicle sped out of the hangar. Mac had the top down so that the air would flow over them. Rebecca felt the wind rush past her skin. It still felt quite hot, but it was not nearly as bad as when she was standing in it a few minutes before.

Mac sped the vehicle down the dirt road at an astounding clip. Rebecca doubted that she had ever traveled this fast before. Not even on the train that brought her to Santa Fe from Chicago. The silence was becoming ominous as Mac drove along the desert road.

"How is father?" Rebecca asked watching the scrub grass and tumbleweeds fly by the side of the road.

"He appeared to be in quite good health the other day," Mac responded as he took a quick glance in his rearview mirror on the driver's side of the windshield.

"I mean has he gone back to drinking?"

"I don't believe he has."

"Mr. McKinnon, I know what your side business is. Please, I will not tell the authorities, but it is important that my father isn't involved in anyway. He almost lost his job because of his drinking after mother died."

Mac chuckled a bit, "You know I did offer him a beer once, but he turned me down. I swear I've never seen him drunk nor have a drink."

Rebecca's sigh of relief was audible over the purr of the Roadster's engine. Mac looked over at her and smiled. As he continued to drive, he looked in his rearview mirror again.

"Say, how would you like to see how fast we can take this car?" Mac asked cheerfully.

Before Rebecca could respond she was not interested in going any faster, Mac stomped on the accelerator. The yellow Roadster shot off like a racehorse leaving the gates at the Kentucky Derby. Rebecca held onto the door with a death grip. The blood completely left her face as Mac took turns at breakneck speed and shot down side roads that were merely trails.

How long they drove like this Rebecca did not know. Eventually Mac slowed the car down and his own sigh of relief became audible over the engine.

"Mr. McKinnon I thought you were to deliver your cargo quickly and safely," Rebecca commented sarcastically.

"Trust me I have your safety on my mind and please call me Mac."

It was not long before they pulled into a cavernous valley. Large pillars of rock, some with boulders on top of them, littered the landscape. The view was quite stunning and Rebecca swore she had never seen anything as breathtaking as this before. Mac pulled the yellow car up to a cliff that contained some pueblo houses inside its huge cavern.

At the base of the cliff was pitched a medium sized tent in front of a fire pit. Boxes of supplies were stacked near the tent. Shovels and pickaxes rested against the boxes. Rebecca's heart raced with excitement. She jumped out of the car before Mac had the Roadster a full stop.

A man with gray hair wearing a beat up brimmed hat stepped out of the tent. His closely trimmed gray beard made him look even more scholarly. Rebecca ran up to him and threw her arms around the old man's neck.

"Father, it's great to see you," she cried as tears ran down her cheeks.

Hugo Strong hugged his daughter tightly with a huge smile on his face.

After Dr. Strong released his daughter, Mac approached him and shook his hand.

"Good to see you, Doc," Mac smiled as he pumped the archaeologist's hand in a strong grip.

"Did you have any problems delivering Rebecca?" the old man asked.

"Not at all, it was a wonderful drive," replied the pilot.

"I would have enjoyed the scenery more if it wasn't passing by at a hundred miles an hour," Rebecca shot out.

Dr. Strong looked up at Mac in surprise. Mac nodded his head.

"I have some business to conclude with Mac here, dear. But if you go into the tent I'm sure you'll find some of the artifacts on the table of great interest."

Rebecca walked over to the tent. Both men watched her silently not speaking until she closed the flap behind her.

"Were you followed?" Hugo asked.

"I believe someone was trying to follow us. I took a circuitous route to get here and lost them some miles back there. I'll stay until after sunset then I will return to the airfield."

"Be careful. My package should arrive in Denver tomorrow. Bring it as soon as possible."

"I'll have it here the day after next, Doc. You better take extra precautions as well," Mac responded.

"Please follow me to the tent. Let me show you what I've uncovered," the old man motioned for Mac to enter the tent.

The two men stepped into the tent. There were two cots at opposite sides of the room. A blanket screened one of the cots from the rest of the tent. This was obviously going to be Rebecca's "room". In the center of the tent was a large circular stone tablet about two feet in diameter on a wooden table. Strange markings covered the tablets surface. Rebecca stood hunched over the tablet studying its features.

"This is it," beamed the archaeologist. "This is the holy grail of the New World."

"I'm sorry if I don't really understand, Doc," Mac said scratching his head. The stone tablet did not strike him as anything particular.

"It looks like a Mayan calendar," Rebecca added.

"Yes, it does. In reality it is a map," Hugo responded excitedly.

"Map?" Mac took a closer look at the tablet. He just could not see how the strange symbols represented a map.

"Not just a map, but THE map."

Both Mac and Rebecca stared at the archaeologist as if he had been out in the sun too long.

"This is the map to the fabled Lost Cities of Gold."

"You mean El Dorado?" Mac asked.

"Yes, and no," The professor began. "El Dorado really means the 'Gilded One'.

"About thirty miles northeast of Bogota lays Lake Guatavita. The conquistadors used to call it 'Lake El Dorado' because the practice of the local chief who would cover himself in gold dust from head to foot. He then would float out to the middle of the lake on a raft where he would throw in golden objects to appease the spirit of the lake.

"Several accounts of this have been written down by the likes of Oviedo, the soldier-historian Pedro de Cieza de Leon, and Padre Pedro Simon. Over the centuries, several golden objects have been retrieved from the lake and there were even attempts by the Spaniards to drain it.

"Over the course of a few years the name El Dorado became synonymous with the lost cities of gold. Many famous explorers from across Europe searched in vain for the cities of gold such as Hernan Perez de Quesada, Philipp von Hutten, and even Sir Walter Raleigh.

"Over time the search for El Dorado, as you call it, became a thing of folk-lore and legend like Atlantis, the Fountain of Youth, or Camelot. However, I believe that there is some truth to the story. I believe that before the Incas, Aztecs or even the older Mayan, Toltec and Moche there was a great culture in South America. I believe that this civilization lost to history spread its culture of goldsmithing, engineering, and religion across much of South and Central America. I also believe that this civilization was the story that the conquistadors heard from the natives which led them to believe in the Lost Cities of Gold."

"Excuse me, Doc, but how does that bring you to the Anasazi? Were they part of this great lost empire?" Mac interrupted.

"No, not at all. We know very little about the Anasazi it is only by coincidence that I am here."

"I don't follow you father," Rebecca piped up.

"In my research in the archives of Madrid I came across a diary from a priest named Rodrigo Martinez de Toledo. He talks about the conquistadors finding a crystal skull in what is now British Honduras in 1578. The skull he claims is the key to the legendary city of El Dorado. This sparked a renewed interest in the Spanish searching for the elusive city. Soon in Mexico a stone tablet," Hugo pointed down at the tablet on the table, "was found in one of the temples. This tablet predated the Aztecs, but the Aztecs held it to be very holy. Rodrigo claims that this tablet was a map that would lead to El Dorado."

"That's interesting, Doc, how did the tablet get up here and what about the key?"

"Yes, two things happened that altered the course of history. The first was that in 1579 the Spaniards put the crystal skull aboard a ship called the Nuestra Senora de la Concepcion out of Peru. She was to sail west and put in at Spain. Unfortunately, the ship met up with that seadog Sir Francis Drake. Because the Spanish ship actually carried cannons, it earned the nickname of the Cacafuego. Drake soon captured the ship and transferred all the treasure aboard his ship the Golden Hind.

"Drake fearing that he wouldn't make it back to England and hoping that if he did he would be able to persuade Queen Elizabeth to colonize what is now the Pacific Northwest, New Albion as Drake named it, buried the skull and some treasure in Washington State. Queen Elizabeth burned the records of Drakes passage and forbade him to speak of it. I found the treasure last year, and fear that if I reveal my find, cutthroat fortune hunters will come after me.

"The map was lost two years later when renegade Spaniards stole the map before it could be sent with the treasure fleet to Spain in 1781. The renegades fled north as far as they could before finally taking shelter in some Anasazi ruins. The Navajo tribe soon killed them off.

"That is exactly where I found the stone map. Soon I shall have the key," the archaeologist concluded.

"You mean you have translated the stone?" Rebecca asked.

"Yes, with the help of Rodrigo's journal. I have the map memorized, but I want you, Mac to have the copy that I made for safe keeping." Hugo handed Mac a journal that the pilot stuffed in his back pocket.

Rebecca slept soundly inside the tent. She was dreaming of humming birds with propellers on their beak as they buzzed from flower to flower. The buzzing increased in intensity until she woke up. Sitting straight up in bed Rebecca strained her ears to the noise of the buzzing. It sounded much like that of Mac's Jenny except it sounded as if there were a fleet of them.

Rebecca was about to awaken her father when the noise suddenly stopped dead. The buzzing vanished as if it had never been. Rebecca returned to bed shaking her head. Could she have dreamt the noise?

The next morning Rebecca arose, the sun was already up and the air in the tent was starting to become stifling hot. Her father had obviously been up for some time by the smell of breakfast cooking outside. The smell of scrambled eggs, bacon, and coffee wafted into the tent. Rebecca's stomach growled in anticipation. She quickly dressed into some khaki shorts and a light shirt and joined her father outside.

Hugo was sitting on a crate sipping at his coffee in a tin cup. He was looking up at the cave dwelling above him lost in thought. A pan of eggs and bacon sat on another crate next to him and the pot of coffee percolated on the small campfire.

"Good morning, dad," Rebecca greeted as she helped herself to the food.

"Ah, good morning," Hugo quickly turned to meet his daughter's eyes with a smile on his face. "After breakfast I thought today I'd show you around the dwelling up there," the archaeologist motioned towards the Anasazi abode with his cup of coffee.

"That'd be great," Rebecca replied excitedly. The previous day they spent in camp looking at the artifacts that Hugo had retrieved from the ruins. Though they were incredibly intriguing, Rebecca was itching to see the actual site from which they came.

"Do you think Mac will be here today?" Rebecca asked. "He did say he'd have your package here by then."

"Don't worry," Dr. Strong chuckled. "Mac knows his way around this camp. He has actually spent a couple of days up there helping me dig. So I'm sure that if we aren't in camp he'll join us up at the pueblo."

Dan listened to the radio gravely. His contact in Denver said that Mac had left the airfield hours ago. However, Mac should have returned by now. It was way past noon and the delivery went off without a hitch. The Jenny had been in top form when Mac took off yesterday for Denver. What could be keeping him?

Dan had known Mac since they served together in the Great War. Even then, Dan was the crew chief for Mac's Sopwith Camel. Dan took great pride in the fact that Mac's aircraft never left the airfield with a fault; the return however was always a different story.

After the war, the two began their own express courier service with the Jenny and this airfield. Business was very good. Everyone appeared to need something expedited somewhere. Trains sometimes were not fast enough or did not have a route where the delivery needed to be.

Prohibition had become a boon to their trade as well. The smuggling a crate or two of some beer or tequila from Mexico to some resort in the area proved very profitable. However, Mac was always careful to smuggle very little and to pay off the right officials. Being too greedy attracted the wrong attention. That is the attention of either the law or the mafia.

Dan set the headset down on the table. He dreamed of the day when radios became small enough to fit in aircraft. Regardless, the only thing Dan could do now was to wait and worry.

The late afternoon sun filtered into the cave dwelling. The buildings of the Anasazi were remarkable. The pueblos were made of adobe and the cave in which they were nestled tended to offer some relief from the blazing desert sun. Rebecca was having the time of her life.

"Now look here," Dr. Strong pointed to a pit in the floor of one of the pueblos. "This is where I found the map. You can see the Spaniard's artifacts I retrieved." The archaeologist now pointed to a rusted conquistador helmet and a broken matchlock musket sitting next to the lantern that was illuminating the interior.

Rebecca picked up the helmet and looked it over. She had seen pictures of them in paintings. She could now see in her mind the conquistadors wearing them on their heads with polished breastplates on their chest while sitting atop a horse. It is no wonder that the Incas and the Aztecs held these men in awe.

"That my dear is a Combed Morion helmet. It is commonly associated with the conquistadores though they by no means were the only ones to adopt that helmet," Hugo lectured.

Rebecca had not seen her father so lively since her mother died. She smiled at her father as he continued to lecture her on the history of the artifact that was now in her hands.

"In fact, the English pikemen commonly used the morion helmet until the mid 1500s. Edward IV ..." Hugo stopped suddenly and looked around.

"What is it, father?" Rebecca asked as her father strained to hear something.

"Quiet, dear, I believe I heard something," he whispered.

Outside the pueblo, the sound of small rocks tumbling off the side of the cliff intruded into the room. Hugo reached into his satchel by his feet and pulled out a Colt .45 Peacemaker. Rebecca gave a small gasp as she saw her father cock the hammer back.

Hugo put is finger to his lips and sternly looked towards his daughter. "Quiet, it is probably just Mac, but you can't tell nowadays what sort of person you'll come across here in the desert.

"Just stay here and lay low. I'm going to check it out," Dr. Strong said as he left the small room.

Rebecca pulled herself back further into the room listening to her father slowly walk around the cavern. The tension was almost unbearable. She could not remember ever being so frightened in her life. Rebecca had never seen her father use a gun. She did not even think until now that her father had one.

The seconds turned into hours, Rebecca could no longer hear the footsteps of her father or the mysterious interloper outside. The only sounds that reached her ears were the thump-thumps of her own rapidly pounding heart.

Then a muffled thud followed by winded groan escaping from a man's lips reached her ears. She could hear the sound of some feet scrabbling across the cave's floor.

"Father!" Rebecca cried without thinking of the danger she could be in. She started to rush out of the pueblo and ran right into the chest of a large man in the doorway. The brute shoved Rebecca backwards who fell ingloriously on her bottom near the pit.

"Gunter, I believe ve have anozer vun een heah," the large man said in a thick German accent.

A smaller man walked up next to the brute in the doorway. Looked Rebecca over in the light afforded by the small lantern in the room.

"Ja, ja," Gunter replied, "Johann said ve only need zee professor. Kill her."

Rebecca sat there frozen stiff as the two German men stood over her discussing her fate. She could not get her mind to act. Horror had her completely paralyzed.

The larger man pulled a Luger out of his holster on his side. Smiling he pointed the gun at Rebecca.

"Sorry, Fraulein," was all the smaller man said to Rebecca as she closed her eyes and started sobbing.

Rebecca heard the sound of the large man cocking the pistol over the two Germen thugs' chuckling and her own sobbing. Any second now, she knew that she would hear the sound of the blast followed shortly by her own death. She wondered if she would feel any pain.

Rebecca tensed up in anticipation. She screwed shut her eyes even harder. She clenched her fists into a death grip by her side. She violently flinched when she heard the double pistol report explode into the small room.

"Rebecca?" a voice called out into the darkness. "Can you see the light?"

Rebecca swam around in the darkness. She tried to find the source of the voice. The voice was familiar. It was not her mother. She thought for sure her mom would have been the one to guide her.

"The light, Rebecca," the voice persisted. It was a man's voice. But, whose was it?

Rebecca searched around more in the darkness. She was surprised that there was no pain. That answered one question, she died before the pain hit, thank God. She kept floating in the darkness.

There it was a light in the distance. She willed herself to enter the light. As she approached the light, she found that there was a buzzing in her ears. She could taste the dust on her in her throat.

"What strange sensations to have when you're dead," Rebecca thought.

"Rebecca?" the voice continued. The voice was more firm and a face finally matched up with it.

"Mac!" Rebecca cried as she sat up throwing her eyes open.

"Welcome to the land of the living," Mac smiled back.

There sitting next to her with the small lantern in his hand was Mac MacKinnon. She was still inside the pueblo's room. Dan Edwards was escorting her father into the room. Dr. Strong was holding the back of his head as he walked weakly leaning heavily on the smaller man as he led the professor.

"What? How?" Rebecca began.

"It's a good thing we got here when we did. These fellows were about to execute you. Dan is as good with his grandfather's Schofield as I am with my old service piece," Mac said as he patted the Colt .45 automatic on his hip.

Dan tipped his ball cap toward Rebecca, "I find using the revolver to be friendlier to us left-handers than the automatics." Dan was sitting Hugo down next to Rebecca.

Rebecca looked at Mac questioningly. "He means the automatics tend to eject the spent cartridges out the right side. If you are left-handed, like my friend there," Mac nodded over at Dan, "that can pump the shells into your face. Hot brass in one's face is not all that fun."

"Sorry we were late. The Jenny was having some...er, engine problems and I had to set down in a vacant field and hitch hike back to the airfield," Mac apologized.

"So who are our friends there?" Mac asked looking over to the two dead men lying over by the far wall.

"I don't know," Hugo began. "They jumped me before I could see them."

"They're Germans," Rebecca said matter-of-factly.

Mac and Dan looked at each other.

"What would the German's be doing here?" Dan asked.

Mac quickly ran over to the dead men. He began searching there bodies. After awhile he looked over at the three people sitting next to the pit.

"It's worse than we thought," Mac said lifting one of the dead men's arms he pulled up the sleeve to reveal a tattoo of a shield that appeared to be made of stone. "It's the Stein Ritter."

"Ooh, that is not good," Dan replied.

"What's Stein Ritter?" the archaeologist asked.

"The Stein Ritter or Stone Knight is a secret Prussian organization. They may have been the ones responsible for the series of treaties that Europe signed that lead to the Great War. In fact, they may have been the ones responsible for assassination of Arch Duke Ferdinand in order to start that war once the treaties were set up," Mac offered.

"Why?" Hugo questioned looking intently at Mac.

"Because they felt that they could come to power and through Germany rule much of the world. It was a near done thing until we Americans entered the war," Mac answered.

"No, I'm sorry, but why are they interested in my archaeological finds? Certainly they are not treasure hunters," the professor pressed.

"After the war, the Allies put terrible reparations on Germany. The Germans will be paying off England and France for decades," Mac continued. "Therefore, if the Stein Ritter can find El Dorado they'll be able to fund there own empire."

"My God!" Hugo cried. "The map and Rodrigo Martinez de Toledo's journal are back at the camp."

Mac jumped up and started running towards the doorway. "It is worse than that. I have the package in my car. I can only presume that it is the key."

Mac and Dan quickly descended from the cave and ran towards the camp. The sun was starting to sink below the western horizon. In the orange twilight, the two were able to make out the shape of a truck near the camp. There were some men rushing to load it with their spoils taken from the camp.

Mac slowed down to a trot next to Dan. Both men had their weapons drawn and ready for service.

"We haven't been noticed yet. If we hurry, we may be able to catch them by surprise," Mac said in Dan's ear. Dan nodded in agreement. After all these years together and the many adventures they had been through during and after the war, they could practically read each other's mind.

Dan peeled off from Mac at the outskirts of the small camp and headed towards the truck. Mac stealthily moved around the opposite side of the camp to try to catch the intruders by surprise. So far, the looters, who were too engrossed in their work, detected neither man.

Mac could make out snatches of German as the men talked to each other as they lifted the stone map into the back of the pick-up truck. A quick glance toward the front of the truck showed that Dan was nearly in position. Mac started walking up behind the closest intruder. The man was struggling to lift the stone into the back of the truck so he did not notice Mac sneaking up on him until Mac inadvertently stepped onto a twig.

Snapping twig was enough to cause the man to drop the stone and turn around on Mac so quickly that Mac barely had time to react. Mac raised his automatic up in order to aim it at the man. The looter reacted quickly knocking the gun out of Mac's hand before he could fire the pistol. The looter then rapidly slammed his right hand into Mac's stomach.

Mac doubled over and fell backwards landing on his rear trying to gather his breath. The German just laughed and called to his comrades who were working at gathering all the artifacts that Dr. Strong had accumulated. The other two men ran over towards the truck.

"Look vhat I have found," the German laughed pointing towards Mac.

"Hans don't play vith him. Ve haf vork to do," one of his comrades reminded.

"Ja, but ve can have zee little fun, nein?" Hans asked motioning Mac to stand up.

Mac had sufficiently gathered his breath and pulled his legs up under him. The other two Germans pulled back allowing Hans and Mac ample room for fighting. Hans stood a couple inches taller than Mac and easily had fifty pounds on him. However, Mac had plenty of experience brawling and stuck up his fists in a defensive posture.

Hans came at Mac far quicker than anyone could have thought a man his size could move with a roundhouse punch. Mac anticipated the move and blocked it with his left arm while aiming a blow with his own right hand towards Hans' jaw.

The blow landed squarely and Hans took a couple of steps back shaking his head to clear his mind. Mac knew he could not afford Hans to regain the initiative and followed up with two quick body blows to the German's midriff. The man's abs felt as if they were made of steel.

Hans now fairly recovered from the surprise shot to his jaw quickly pulled Mac into a terrible bear hug. Mac felt his back crack as Hans tightened his grip. Breathing was now nearly impossible for Mac. Mac violently clapped his hands over the German's ears causing him to release his captive.

Mac fell to the ground, swung his legs, and swept the German off his feet. Hans, still holding his ringing ears fell like an ox onto the ground. Mac regained his feet and pulled back waiting for Hans to get back up. So far, the other two Germans had contented themselves with watching the fight. They were yelling encouragement to Hans.

The big German regained his feet and warily eyed Mac. The two pugilists circled each other looking for an opening. Hans finally swung with his right arm toward Mac's head. Mac barely ducked the blow and countered by putting all his strength in a shot to Hans's stomach with his left hand. As the German doubled up Mac delivered another shot with his right hand to Hans's jaw. This time Hans fell unconscious to the ground.

Mac took a couple of seconds to catch his breath; he temporarily forgot about the two other Germans. The sound of the Germans priming their pistols behind him brought him back to the graveness of his situation. Mac raised his hands and turned towards his captors.

Dan came running up behind the Germans tackling both men to the ground. Mac wasted no time in joining in the fight. As the men struggled on the ground, the crack of a pistol shot split the air. Everyone gathered himself up and looked at the source of the shot.

Hans by now had regained his consciousness and stood with a Luger pointed at Mac and Dan. The other two Germans backed away from the two men. Hans instructed his comrades to finish loading the stone in the truck. Mac's mind raced for and idea on how to catch Hans by surprise. So far, nothing was coming to mind.

"I am so sorry. But, I will now have to kill you," Hans said coldly as his leveled the pistol on Mac.

Hans smiled as he started to pull the trigger. The other Germans had the stone map loaded in the back of the truck by now. It was amazing how these last few seconds tended to play out as if in slow motion.

Mac and Dan stood there waiting for the end. Both stared at the Luger waiting for the muzzle to discharge their death. A shot shattered the quiet desert air, a shot that did not come from Hans's gun, but by Dr. Strong's Colt. Hans fell over backwards with a bullet to his head his hand spasmodically firing the Luger harmlessly into the sky.

The remaining two Germans wasted no time in jumping into the truck and taking off into the desert. Mac and Dan stood there transfixed still not believing in their last minute reprieve.

Hugo Strong with his daughter trailing behind ran up to the two men. The Colt still smoking from its discharge.

"Quickly," the professor prompted. "They are getting away."

Mac and Dan quickly found their weapons and jumped into the roadster. Mac cursed as the roadster reluctantly turned over. The truck was disappearing into the desert. Nonetheless, it was only a moment before Mac was in pursuit.

The truck had a good lead, but the roadster could quickly catch up with its superior speed. The two parties raced into the night. Dust clouds flying up behind the vehicles.

"What took you so long?" Mac asked Dan as he sped along.

"You had everything well in hand," Dan replied. "Plus, I needed you to distract those other guys so I could sneak up on them."

"Glad I could help," Mac laughed.

The roadster was rapidly closing the distance between the two vehicles. The occasional rock or rut the roadster hit bounced the pair in their seats. But, the two just smiled. This was just another adventure for the two.

It would only be another minute or two and the roadster would be on the truck. Dan quickly checked his Schofield as he readied for the shoot out that would inevitably begin. As if the passenger of the truck had read Dan's mind he leaned out the window and fired off a shot with his Luger.

Dan returned fire at the truck. Mac ducked lower behind the wheel concentrating on catching the truck. The bullets from the German's pistol had so far failed to find their mark. Dan for his part had only succeeded in shooting out the rear window.

Mac pulled the roadster over to the driver's side of the truck. The passenger now had to change his position to fire out the shattered rear window. As the passenger prepared to open fire, Dan took careful aim. The Schofield barked as the last bullet in the cylinder flew from the muzzle and buried itself into the passenger's shoulder. The passenger cursed in German as he dropped the Luger and grabbed his right shoulder.

Mac and Dan exchanged a quick smile as Dan started to climb out of the roadster to jump onto the truck. However, as Dan began to rise from his seat another shot broke over the sound of the racing engines. This report did not come from a gun but instead from the roadsters front passenger's tire.

The roadster pulled violently to the right roughly throwing Dan back into his seat. The yellow roadster barely missed hitting the truck as Mac fought to keep control of the vehicle. The truck sped off into the distance as Mac brought the roadster to a dead stop.

"Damn," cursed Dan. "We nearly had them."

Mac sat there silently for a while and then began to smile.

"What? Am I missing something?" Dan asked.

"If we quickly fix the tire we should be able to catch the truck," Mac replied with a laugh.

"How's that?"

"They just drove into that box canyon. There is only one way out and that is past us."

In less than ten minutes, Dan and Mac replaced the flat from one of the two spare tires the roadster carried. Mac drove the roadster cautiously toward the canyon. As they reached the mouth of the canyon, Mac pulled to a stop.

"This is where we get out and walk," Mac said.

Both men jumped out of the roadster and started walking down the dark canyon. Fortunately, there was a half-moon out to offer them light. Mac knew this desert pretty well and knew that this canyon was not very deep. In a few minutes, they would be upon the truck and with some more luck ambush the driver and recover the stone map.

As Mac and Dan crept further into the canyon the roar of multiple engines revving up to speed split through the still air. It had been a good three years the last time, either man had heard the noise, but they both recognized it at the same time.

"They didn't," Mac exclaimed as he began running towards the sound.

"I believe they did," Dan replied keeping up with Mac.

They both crested a small mound in time to see what they feared. Although the canyon was not terribly deep, it was wide. It was just wide enough to hide a zeppelin and that zeppelin was now rising rapidly into the air over the two men's head.

Dan and Mac just stared as the lighter-than-air craft flew off into the desert air.

Mac took his time returning to the camp. He did not relish the idea of telling Dr. Strong that he and Dan had lost the stone map and the key, that the German's were now flying off to find El Dorado, and that they could not follow.

The roadster slowly pulled up to the crates and the tent silhouetted in the campfire. Dr. Strong and his daughter both waited with anticipation as Mac and Dan stepped out the car.

"Well, did you get them?" Rebecca asked excitedly.

"Not exactly," Mac replied crestfallen. "I'm sorry Doc, but the Germans had a zeppelin and made off with the map and key. We have no idea where they went and we can't follow them."

Much to everyone's surprise the professor started to laugh.

"Are you all right, father?" Rebecca looked at her father with a troubled look on her face.

"Quite, quite," the archaeologist continued to laugh. "You forget Mac that I have the map already memorized. Plus, I know exactly where the German's are headed. In fact, they are traveling in opposite direction of El Dorado."

"I must admit it Doc, but you have lost me again," Mac said sitting down on a crate near the fire.

"Remember I told you about the renegade Spaniards stealing the stone map and heading north?" the professor prompted.

Rebecca and Mac both nodded. Dan just stared at everyone with a puzzled expression.

"I'll explain later," Mac offered to Dan.

Dr. Strong continued, "The reason they headed north was because Rodrigo made a translation error. He translated part of the map to read ‘in the greatest river canyon'. Therefore, Rodrigo believed that El Dorado was in the Grand Canyon, the greatest canyon.

"What he should have translated was ‘in the greatest river valley." The greatest river is the Amazon and that is south instead of north. So, you see they are heading in the wrong direction.

"However, we still need the key. That is the most important artifact that they stole."

Mac felt much better and slapped Dan on the shoulder.

"Dan do you think you can get the Jenny running tomorrow?" Mac asked.

"Shouldn't be too hard. I just need to check the prop and clean out the feathers," Dan returned.

"Feathers!?!" Rebecca exclaimed.

Mac turned a little red. Even in the firelight, Rebecca noticed the pilot blushing.

"Yeah, my engine trouble was brought on by me flying into a flock of birds. I had to land before my propeller shattered or the engine died."

"Leave it to Mac to find road kill in the sky," Dan joked.

Dr. Strong and Rebecca started laughing. Mac gave Dan a glare before he too joined in laughing.

It did not take Dan long at all to get the Jenny ready the next day. Both the propeller and the engine were fine. A quick cleaning and routine maintenance had Mac in the air by late afternoon.

Mac made to the Grand Canyon in Arizona by sundown. He stayed at a colleague's airfield while he started his search for the zeppelin. Mac made a few inquiries into whether anyone in the area had seen an airship flying in the sky. However, everyone he asked thought he was joking.

Mac had little choice but to begin to search for the zeppelin by air. The task before him was daunting. The Grand Canyon was long and deep, but the zeppelin may have landed miles away from the canyon further increasing the area where Mac would have to search.

Mac had searched the area for over a week. He had nothing to show for his efforts and everyone decided that he should return home. The Jenny was flying back toward New Mexico when Mac saw a something on the ground that did not quite fit.

At first glance, it looked like a patch of snow high in the mountains. However, the patch of snow was elliptical and rising into the air. Mac banked the Jenny around to take a closer look.

Mac laughed as he spied the zeppelin climbing higher into the sky. By pure chance, he had stumbled upon the airship. The German airship was about 529 feet long and 38 feet in diameter. Three gasoline engines positioned outside the gasbag powered the great craft up to 85 miles an hour. Maybe he would not go home empty handed after all.

The zeppelin began to fly off in an easterly direction. Mac increased the Jenny's speed in order to catch up to the zeppelin. He wanted to get a better look at his adversary.

Mac was almost on top of the zeppelin when he noticed the platforms on the top of the zeppelin. During the Great War, zeppelins had gunners on the top of the airbag to fight off attacking allied aircraft. These platforms were still armed and they began to open fire upon the little Jenny.

Mac pulled back on the stick to gain altitude before the gunners and their Maxim machineguns could get a fix on him. The engine of the biplane roared in protest as bullets ripped past. Mac rolled the biplane as he dove. He could hear the tearing of the fabric skin as some of the bullets found their mark. He pulled back sharply on the stick and the plane climbed rapidly into the sky once more. Mac leveled off before the plane stalled. The Maxims pursued him persistently.

The Jenny began to respond sluggishly as he jinked the plane. The two machinegun placements relentlessly fired upon the aircraft. Mac pushed forward upon the stick again and the plane dove. Mac flew the plane past and below the zeppelin, but not before a few rounds found their way into the engine. Although the gun placements could no longer fire upon the plane, the machineguns had done their job as smoke billowed from the Jenny's engine.

The plane did not respond to his control as it spun ever closer to the ground. Mac fought to pull the stick back as the wind screamed in his ears and the engine coughed and smoked as he plummeted towards the earth. The altimeter rapidly counted down. Mac had only a hundred feet in which to gain control of the plane as the ground rushed ever closer.

Dr. Hugo Strong and Rebecca moved into the apartment attached to the back of the hangar where Dan and Mac lived. The apartment was small, containing only a kitchen-dining room, two cramped bedrooms, and a living room housing a sofa that Dan now used as a bed. Dan had insisted that Rebecca take Mac's room and Dr. Strong move into his while Mac was searching for the zeppelin.

The three would crowd around Dan's radio in the hangar as he communicated with Mac every evening about his progress on locating the zeppelin at the Grand Canyon. Other than experiencing a wonderful aerial tour of the picturesque landscape, Mac had nothing further to report. Finally, they decided after ten days that Mac return to their airfield in New Mexico.

Dan was at his usual position at the radio when Rebecca walked into the large open room. Dan threw his headset onto the desktop in frustration before he realized that Rebecca was standing behind him.

"Oh...sorry," Dan stammered in surprise noticing Rebecca watching him.

"What's wrong?" Rebecca asked as she took a chair next to the desk.

"Nothing. I'm just experiencing some technical problems with my set here," Dan lied.

Rebecca gave Dan a piercing glare showing that she obviously did not buy his story. "Is there something wrong with Mac?"

Dan sat back in his chair and blew air out of his mouth. "Yeah, Mac should have been here hours ago. I just called McCurdy's airfield and he isn't there. In fact, Mac left in the morning as we planned."

"Maybe, Mac stopped off for dinner or something on the way back," Rebecca tried to comfort Dan.

"That's not like Mac. He is very punctual. Do you remember the last time he was late? He was lucky he was able to land the plane after he ran into that flock of birds."

"Mac is a very accomplished pilot. I'm sure he has a reason for being late. Who knows he may have even found the zeppelin."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," Dan replied sourly.

"Any news about Mac's whereabouts?" Dr. Hugo asked surprising both Rebecca and Dan as he walked up behind them. The archaeologist was holding a sandwich that he offered to Dan. "Rebecca and I have already eaten."

"Thanks," Dan replied as he accepted the food. Dan then repeated his fears to the doctor.

Rebecca and Dr. Strong began talking about some of the artifacts that were at the dig while Dan consumed his meal. The three were so busy discussing Dr. Strong's finds that none of them noticed the man walk into the hangar.

"Pardon me," the stranger asked.

The three companions turned around simultaneously to see a man dressed in a gray business suit and holding his hat in one hand and a walking stick in another. The man stood at about six feet tall, had blue eyes and gray hair with a Van Dyke beard and mustache that was also gray. He had to have been in his late forties or early fifties.

"I am sorry to interrupt," the man said in a British accent with a hint of German as he heavily rolled his r's. "I am Johann von Hutten, and I am afraid I need your help Herr Doktor."

Von Hutten revealed the German Luger that he had concealed under his hat. Two other large men now entered the hangar. One was armed with a rifle the other was also holding a Luger.

Dan, Rebecca, and Dr. Strong all raised their hands as the intruders pointed their weapons at them. The two thugs walked over, grabbed the archaeologist roughly, and began to lead him away.

"Wait!" von Hutten ordered. "If I am not mistaken this is Herr Strong's daughter. Bring her along. I'm sure she'll help us persuade the fine doctor to cooperate. As for the mechanic... as these American's say, 'dead men tell no tales.'"

Before long, the thugs tied up and gagged Dan in a corner of the hangar. The Germans had left with their prisoners leaving Dan by himself. Instead of just shooting him there, the Germans had cruelly set up a bomb consisting of several sticks of dynamite and a clock that sat in front of Dan.

The poor mechanic could do nothing but watch and listen as the clock relentlessly ticked off the few remaining minutes before ending his life in a violent blast. His arms tied securely behind his back around a pipe secured him to his corner. The bomb was out of reach of his kicking legs. Dan frantically twisted and struggled to loosen his bonds. However, it was fruitless he was expertly trussed up.

The zeppelin rose slowly up into the night sky. A locked crewmembers' cabin contained the archaeologist and his daughter. Johann von Hutten looked down upon the small airfield from the flight deck of the zeppelin.

The helmsman stood at the wheel listening to the orders of the captain. Johann knew the captain well; he was a very accomplished pilot and a high-ranking member of the Stein Ritter. Wolfgang, none knew his last name, had shot down over hundred allied aviators during the Great War. Now, this strange man commanded the last of the military's zeppelins that he had custom made and had remarkably smuggled out of the Fatherland without anyone knowing.

Wolfgang had come to von Hutten to offer his assistance in locating El Dorado. It was no secret that Johann was the great grand nephew of Philipp von Hutten. Like Philipp, Johann burned with a desire to find the elusive El Dorado. All Wolfgang wanted was a share of the treasure in order to rebuild Germany.

Johann smiled as he watched the airfield shrink below them. It looked like the last obstacle was about to be permanently removed. First, they shot down that pilot earlier today and now the mechanic was about to come to his end.

Johann looked up at the clock on the wall of the bridge. Any second now, the bomb should go off. Von Hutten peered out the window once more in time to see the flash of the explosion. The dampened roar of the blast reached his ears a second later.

Dan knew he was a dead man. He had been expertly tied-up with a bomb counting down the last few minutes of his life just out of his reach. His struggling to loosen his bonds had only resulted in rope burns. Regardless of the pain in raw wrists, Dan continued to frantically struggle. He could not scream because of the gag in his mouth. Not like there would have been anyone to hear him in the desert.

The clock's rhythmic ticking pounded into Dan's ears. It was the only sound outside of Dan's violent and futile attempts to free himself. There was only half a minute left before Dan resigned himself to his fate. He closed his eyes and relaxed. At least he would die peacefully.

Dan heard a noise. He opened his eyes to see a man run out of the hangar with the bomb. The man then ran back into the hangar and slid behind the wall just before the dynamite sticks exploded thunderously. The hangar rocked and dust flew in through the open doors.

The mechanic watched as a figure walked towards him through the cloud of dust. Dan recognized the man as he approached closer. It was Mac and as usual, he was there just at the right time.

"Looks like you've gotten yourself tied-up," Mac said dryly.

All Dan could do was groan through the gag in his mouth. Mac removed the gag and began to untie Dan's arms and legs.

"What took you so long?" Dan asked.

"I ran into the zeppelin. They nearly shot me out of the sky. I had to coax the Jenny back home. Even then, I land a couple of miles shy of the hangar and I had to run back here," Mac explained hurriedly. "I'm sorry I didn't get here in time to save the professor and Rebecca."

"Yeah, a man named Johann von Hutten kidnapped them and took off with them after trying to blow me up," Dan replied. "Looks, like they now hold all the cards. We can't even follow them."

Mac finished untying Dan who began to rub his raw and bloody wrists. Mac reached into his back pocket and pulled out a book. "Not exactly... I had some time to read Dr. Strong's journal. He wrote everything down including the exact route to the location of El Dorado."

"But they have the key and we don't," Dan pointed out.

"That's true, but maybe we can head them off," Mac said. "Von Hutten, did you say?"

Dan nodded his head.

"Our friend Johann must be a relative of Philipp von Hutten. I suppose he wants to carry on the family tradition."

"Now you will notice that this zeppelin has certain amenities that our military airships didn't have during the Great War," Johann pointed out as he had breakfast with his guests. Dr. Strong and Rebecca both sat at the table in the cramped dining room eating sausages and eggs alone with their captor. Johann pointed at the room with his fork, "You'll notice that this gondola is completely enclosed and pressurized. This allows us to heat it up and keep it comfortable even though we are now flying over 20,000 of your feet in the air."

Both the professor and his daughter sat their in silence reluctantly eating as Johann continued to lecture on about his airship. The one sided conversation even began to tire the German.

"Please, you both are so glum," Johann began. "You must have some questions about our ship. Or, perhaps we can talk about El Dorado?"

Dr. Strong cleared his throat before he quietly began speaking, "Surely, you don't expect hostages to carry on with their jailers as if they were on a holiday, especially, when you are more than likely going to kill us after you get what you want."

Johann began to laugh, "I'm sorry, but you couldn't be further from the truth. We have no desire to kill you and your charming daughter. We just need you to correct our course. It is obvious that the Grand Canyon is not the correct location."

"Just like you didn't kill Mac and Dan!" yelled Rebecca as she stood up pointing an accusing finger at Johann.

"Yes, unfortunately, they were an impediment to our plans and had to be dealt with in a more permanent fashion. But, I assure you that we have no such plans for you just as long as you cooperate."

Dr. Strong pulled Rebecca back down into her chair. The young woman's eyes blazed with hatred as she stared at Johann.

"To prove my point you are free to walk anywhere you want in this gondola. You may not access the airbag or try to reach the control gondola. Just one word of warning though, you cannot smoke. The hydrogen that fills our airbags is highly flammable. I also warn you against sabotage. For your life depends on our reaching El Dorado alive and well."

"You shall have no problem from us," Hugo promised.

Rebecca turned her glare upon her father. The professor only sternly looked into her eyes as he continued to speak to Johann.

"As long as you treat my daughter well, I shall be fully cooperative."

Hugo Strong was as good as his word. He soon had the zeppelin on the correct course towards El Dorado. Johann for his part was also as good as his word. Both the professor and Rebecca had full run of the gondola where they were residing. Unfortunately, a jail, no matter its size was still a jail.

Rebecca had fully explored every inch of the gondola. The crew slept in small cabins containing two sets of bunk beds. Dr. Strong and Rebecca had one to themselves, thanks to the recent passing of some of the crew at Mac and Dan's hand. Two tiny restrooms that contained a shower sat at the end of the hall with the crew cabins. The shower had a timer to limit the amount of water used. One restroom had been set aside for Rebecca's personal use. The poor crew now had to crowd into the remaining restroom.

The gondola also contained a small mess hall that adjoined a tiny galley. Nonetheless, the food prepared by the cook was first rate. Johann certainly enjoined the good things in life. Two large storage rooms stored crates and barrels of various supplies. The access panels to the airbag and the flight control gondola were constantly under guard to deter Hugo and Rebecca to leave. Finally, there was a small observation deck.

The view from the observation deck was stunning. As the zeppelin floated above the clouds, Rebecca could not help but feel as if she was an angel looking down upon the Earth. The land and sea that flowed below them looked surreal. Rebecca had never flown in her life and this experience astounded her.

However, after two days of watching the planet pass below her Rebecca began to get bored. There were no books in English for her to read, and she never learned any German. However, if she did, Rebecca doubted that the books available to her were nothing more than technical manuals.

Rebecca wandered the gondola looking for something new to occupy her time. As she walked past one of the storage compartments, Rebecca noticed a crewmember dumping some trash out an access panel to the ground. There was a coil of rope next to panel. The rope must have been for mooring the ship to the ground. An idea passed into Rebecca's mind.

Whenever the airship encountered too much turbulence, it decreased its altitude. If the airship lowered itself close enough to the ground, Rebecca and her father could possibly escape through the access panel. Granted, the plan was fraught with peril, but Rebecca reasoned that it was worth the risk.

That night Rebecca proposed her plan to her father. At first, Dr. Strong was against the idea. However, Rebecca was relentless and her reasoning was flawless. They both knew that there was no guarantee that Johann was not going to kill them after he got what he wanted. Thus, she was able to persuade her father attempt the escape.

The opportunity that Rebecca was hoping for presented itself far sooner than she expected. It was the morning of the morning after she presented her plan to her father that the zeppelin lowered itself down to treetop level. Rebecca quickly grabbed her father out of their cabin and led him to the storage room.

The room was deserted and the two captives quickly rushed into room. Rebecca lifted the door open on the access panel. She watched the trees slowly pass along below the airship. This was even better than she had hoped.

"Come, dad you go first," Rebecca motioned to her father as she began to uncoil the rope. Hugo started to approach Rebecca when suddenly the door opened behind them.

A German crewmember surprised the two prisoners. Both parties stared at each other for a minute. It took only a second for the German to find his voice and he started to yell at Rebecca and the professor in German.

"I'm sorry, this doesn't look..." Hugo began as the German roughly grabbed his arm.

The archaeologist began to struggle with the German. Both men started to toss each other about in the storage room. They would crash each other into boxes and barrels oblivious to Rebecca who just stood there shocked to see her father fighting. The older man was doing remarkable well against his younger opponent.

The German crewmember finally shoved the professor against some sacks of flour breaking their hold on each other. As the German approached to continue the fight against the older man, Hugo kicked out violently with his right leg. The German caught the blow to his stomach, which sent him staggering backwards toward the open access panel.

The German flailed his arms as he stepped onto the empty air. In a final desperate attempt, he grabbed onto Rebecca with his left arm pulling her along with him. Hugo lunged to grab his daughter as she fell through the access panel. Hugo's fingers narrowly missed Rebecca's outstretched hand. The last thing he saw was the look of fear as Rebecca plummeted towards the earth.

Rebecca felt the hand of the falling German grabbing onto her arm. Rebecca lost her balance and started to fall through the open access panel as well. Desperately, she reached out towards her father who was rushing over to grab her. Their hands barely missed each other.

The German's grasp slipped off Rebecca's arm, and she thought she heard him scream as he fell. She could not be sure for she was screaming as well as she too plummeted towards the ground. The bottom of the zeppelin fell away as she plunged backwards.

Rebecca closed her eyes as she continued her downward descent. She continued to scream as the wind rushed past her ears. Suddenly, something grabbed her left ankle jarringly and painfully halting her fall. Rebecca opened her eyes to see that by some miracle the mooring line entangled her foot.

Rebecca hung upside down, for how long she did not know before someone began to pull her back up to the access panel of the zeppelin. After a few minutes, Rebecca found herself back inside the storage room. Johann von Hutten stood next to her father with his arms crossed. He did not appear pleased at all. The two crewmembers that had retrieved Rebecca stood back as another man approached from the back of the room. This man was obviously the zeppelin's captain. Neither she nor her father had seen the captain before as he was always on the flight deck. He was wearing a navy blue uniform and a matching officer's cap. On his jacket, braiding encircled his cuffs that matched the color of his gold buttons.

The captain walked up to Rebecca and Dr. Strong. The scowl on his face made Rebecca's blood run cold.

"Mr. von Hutten has been entirely too civil with you. I have already lost four men because of you, and I will not lose another. Is that clear?" the captain said in a stern voice with a near perfect North American accent. "If either of you cause me any further problems, I will have you eliminated."

The captain turned on his heels and marched out of the storage room.

"That was Captain Wolfgang. I am sorry, but I am afraid that your movements are now restricted. You shall be locked in your cabin until you are summoned for," Johann added before he motioned to the two crewmembers.

The German crewmembers were now shouldering rifles and led the Strongs back to their cabin. One of the Germans stood guard outside the room after he securely locked in the hostages.

Meanwhile, Mac and Dan managed to make it to British Honduras by fast train. They had also hired bush pilots to help them get through Central America. Mac reckoned that they could not be too far behind the zeppelins trail. He had a contact here and Mac hoped that he would be able to call in some markers to get a floatplane.

The two men walked into the dark cantina. The humid and dimly lit interior reeked of unwashed bodies mingled with the strong smell of alcohol. The smell brought Mac and Dan back to their days on the western front in France during the Great War.

Seeing Major Roger White sitting at a table with another man further reinforced the memory. It felt as if the two men had stepped back in time to four years earlier. Mac nudged Dan and both walked up to the table.

"Why if it isn't Captain MacKinnon and Sergeant Edwards," laughed retired British Major. Roger twisted the end of his mustache as he stood up and offered his right hand in greeting.

Both Mac and Dan accepted the handshake in turn before they sat down at the table next to the stranger who the major had been conversing with moments before.

Roger nodded towards the stranger as he resumed his seat. "Gentlemen, I would like you to meet a fellow countryman Dr. Frederick Mitchell-Hedges. He's an archaeologist here working on...what was it again?"

"I am working on the Mayan ruins in the city of Lubaantum," the archaeologist offered. "I'm spending some time here with my daughter Anna."

"Sounds remarkably familiar," Dan said off-handedly.

"Excuse me," Dr. Mitchell-Hedges replied. "I'm afraid I don't quite follow."

"It's nothing," Mac said. "I've looked up the major here to see if he could help us find some transportation on an expedition we are mounting."

"Well, it looks like you gentlemen have some business to attend to. I have to find a birthday gift for my daughter so I'll be leaving," Frederick said as he stood up and bowed towards the three men. "Cheers."

The major sat back and continued to play with his mustache until the archaeologist left the cantina. "I received your telegram two days ago. I have the plane ready down by the lake. All we need to do now is conclude the rather distasteful task of payment."

"Do you want that in dollars or pounds?" Mac asked.

"Pounds if you would be so kind."

Mac nodded over to Dan who in turn reached into one of his many pockets and produced a roll of British pounds. Dan tossed the wad of cash over to Roger. The major snatched the money out of midair and quickly secreted it away into his own pocket.

"I'll count it later. I'm sure you haven't shorted me. Now if you will follow me I'll show you the floatplane you requested," Roger said as he stood up and ushered the two men out of the cantina. "Do you need any other...um, provisions?"

Mac smiled, the major had not changed much after the war. Even then, Roger White ran a small black market. If you wanted it, he could get it. It was all just a matter of money. "No, we've brought our own," Mac replied.

Mac flew the floatplane over the Amazon jungle. Dan sat in the front seat of the biplane checking the weapons they had packed. Mac brought along his newly purchased Thompson submachine gun, and Dan brought his old Lee-Enfield rifle. This would augment their sidearms that they always carried.

Mac was half searching for the zeppelin as well as looking for a reasonable landing place near where he believed the entrance to El Dorado lay. The professor’s journal was very explicit as to where he believed El Dorado could be located. So far, all Mac could see was dense jungle below.

Mac dropped the floatplane lower to the jungle canopy. The thick foliage hid everything inside its interior. Mac circled a few times and then started to bring the plane in for a landing on the wide Amazon River.

The plane landed smoothly on the river’s surface. Mac pulled the aircraft up to the riverbank before he cut the engine. Dan did not waste a moment jumping onto the wing and grabbing the mooring line. He walked the wings length and landed on the solid riverbank where he secured the plane to a nearby tree.

Mac was not far behind unloading their equipment. Dan grabbed a backpack and his rifle while he helped Mac to the ground.

"How far do you think the Temple is?" Dan asked.

"I don’t know, but if Dr. Strong’s journal is correct it can’t be too far," Mac replied. "The temple may easily have become overgrown over the last few hundred years, but according to the journal it is the entrance to El Dorado. If we can locate it before the Germans we may be able to enter after they use the key."

"Which way do we go?" Dan asked as he shouldered his pack and loaded his Lee-Enfield.

Mac put on his own pack and loaded the fifty-round drum. "It should be northwest of here. With a little luck, it should reveal itself once we enter the interior. The foliage is always thickest by the riverbanks. Things will tend to thin out once we get inside."

The temperature was only in the high seventies but the humidity made it seem much worse. The heavy rainfall did little to cool either man down as they marched into the jungle’s interior. To add to their discomfort, swarms of biting insects found their flesh and blood tasty.

The sound of monkeys and birds incessantly echoed throughout the jungle. Once they heard a jaguar cry out. Dan readied his rifle after the jungle cat’s roar subsided. Mac continued to slash his way through the jungle with his machete.

"How much further do you figure?" Dan asked for about the hundredth time.

Mac stopped his march and leaned against a tree. He lifted his canteen to his lips and swallowed heavily. After wiping his mouth Mac turned towards Dan, "I’m afraid I don’t know. I was hoping to see something by now. What I would do for some divine intervention right now."

Dan looked up at Mac and smile weakly. Just then, a rifle shot cracked through the jungle. Both men looked up in surprise. Dan smiled more strongly in mirth, "Ask and ye shall receive."

The Germans landed the zeppelin on a lake inside the jungle’s interior. A boat transported the Strongs across the lake and to the jungle accompanied by Johann von Hutten, Captain Wolfgang and a dozen crewmembers.

They had many miles to march and only a few hours in which to do it if they wanted to get the key inserted in time. Professor Strong pointed out the route they would need to follow. By a quick glance at the mountains and a map drawn from the ancient stone map, the archaeologist was able to gain his bearings.

The outskirts of the jungle were thick with underbrush and foliage. As the party continued into the interior, the passage became easier. Sunlight filtered through the heavy foliage in the treetops in small patches. Because of the tall trees cutting out much of the sun light, a lot of the plant life grew high above the ground in the trees. Therefore, there were few plants growing on the ground, however the various plants high above left long sinewy vines leading from the treetops back down to earth.

The Germans hacked their way through the tough vines. As one man’s arm grew tired, another would take over. Thusly, with the professor’s guidance and the Germans’ doggedness, the party made good time. They found the temple quicker and easier than any of them anticipated.

Under the green canopy, a step-pyramid much like those constructed by the Mayans sat covered in vines. The grotesque faces of ancient gods glared at the party as they climbed the steps to the top of the pyramid. The top of the pyramid presented a flat platform on which sat a pedestal with a grooved indentation. Sunlight blazed down on the exposed top.

The party stopped to rest and to have a quick lunch. Everyone sat in silence as the awe of the spectacle that they were experiencing consumed them. The jungle sounds were the only noise the party experienced. The calls of monkeys and the chitterings of other animals floated through the air. The sudden cry of jaguar sitting nearby startled the party. A sentry quickly fired his rifle into the jungle. As the report echoed through the jungle, the party could hear the crashing of the jaguar beating a hasty retreat.

Johann looked at his pocket watch and looked up at the sky. "Dr. Strong, I believe the time approaches."

Dr. Strong nodded his head and slowly pulled the crystal skull out of his satchel. The sunlight sparkled of the natural glass surface. The empty eye sockets flared with brilliance. The archaeologist turned the skull in the sun admiring its beauty.

Johann cleared his voice bringing the professor back to his senses. Dr. Strong then gingerly placed the skull onto the pedestal. The crystal skull fit perfectly inside the groove.

The sun appeared high in the sky as it slowly continued on its trek across the globe. When the sun was straight above its rays beat straight down upon the skull. The light flared more brightly inside the skull. A low hum resonated from the skull and began to grow to a higher pitch. The sound grew to a piercing scream causing the party to cover their ears. Far below at the base of the pyramid a grinding noise of stone grating on stone made its way to everyone’s pounding ears.

Mac and Dan could not believe their eyes. There in the middle of the jungle stood a tall stone pyramid. They wasted no time in following the sound of the rifle shot to its source. They arrive in time to see a brilliant light glaring from the top of the pyramid.

The piercing high-pitched screeched originating from the pyramid's top was a minor irritant to Mac and Dan at the foot of the structure. Therefore, they had a front row seat as a concealed door slowly swung inwards. As the stone door opened, it pulled the vines attached to it until they started to snap apart one by one.

Mac nudged Dan with his elbow before he ran into the pyramid's interior. Dan was right behind Mac as they disappeared inside the darkened depths of the ancient temple.

It had happened so fast that Rebecca had no time to scream. She had just clapped her hands over her ears when the piercing whine ended just as suddenly as it began. The skull had now stopped glowing. No one dared touch the crystal skull because of the electrical energy that appeared to radiate from it.

A few of the Germans had fallen to their knees as the noise overcame them. The stony expression on Captain Wolfgang's face belied the fact that he appeared unaffected by the sudden noise. He alone stood erect and looked down the steps of the pyramid.

"I believe we have opened a door," Wolfgang said in a matter-of-factly tone.

Johann shook his head and quickly joined the captain on the pyramid's edge also peering below.

"Men, get ready to move out," the captain ordered.

The men gathered their supplies and began to climb down the stairs. At the pyramid's base stood an open doorway. Johann slowly approached the darkened interior and peered inside.

"Light the torches, we are on the doorsteps of El Dorado!" Johann exclaimed excitedly.

Mac held the flashlight in front of him. The beam of light illuminated their passage down the stone hallway. The roaring sound of a river filled their ears. The engineering of the temple amplified the sound of the rushing water to loud crashing. Mac was sure the design was intentional. It no doubt added to the mysticism of the temple priest.

With it now covered in dirt and roots, the ground in its heyday, would have been bare stone like the walls of the long hallway. The frozen stone faces of ancient gods grimaced as the two walked further down into the bowels of the pyramid. The musty humid heat was nearly unbearable. Sweat soaked through both Mac's and Dan's shirts. The only redeeming feature was the absence of the biting insects that had plagued them in the jungle.

Dan tapped Mac's shoulder. Mac looked back and noticed Dan pointing over his shoulder. In the distance, a flickering light was on their trail. Mac did not need to be psychic to know that the Germans were on their way into the tunnel. As long as Mac kept his flashlight aimed forward, they could remain unnoticed. Just to be safe Mac increased their pace to slow trot.

"Just think," Johann gushed excitedly, "we are the first people to walk these halls in hundreds of years."

Johann's voice echoed down the stone passageway as the party slowly descended further into the pyramid's interior. Occasionally, a German would catch his foot on an exposed root and stumble. The growing roar of the subterranean river forced Johann to speak even louder.

"The temple priest certain knew how to create awe amongst their parishioners," Johann continued.

Throughout, Rebecca and Dr. Strong remained silent. Both of them did not want to draw any attention to themselves. After Rebecca's escape attempt, neither Rebecca nor her father wanted to tempt the stoic Captain into carrying out his threat of killing them. The two armed guards escorting them only encouraged their silence.

"Not even my great uncle made it this far. We have attained the goal of thousands of Europeans over the past four hundred years. We shall all be rich."

Captain Wolfgang suddenly pulled up to a stop and turned on Johann, "Herr von Hutten, please compose yourself."

Von Hutten sheepishly cleared his throat, "Sorry, Captain I was momentarily lost in emotion. Please carry on."

The party continued on its journey in the flickering light of the torch carried by the lead German. Dr. Strong whispered to his daughter that they had long since left the pyramid behind and that they must be on the passage to the legendary city.

It felt like they had been traveling downward for several hours. However, it was only two when they finally came to large opening. This was the doorway to a huge natural cavern. Inside the cavern were the remains of several stone buildings. Most of the structures were single storied, but a few were as tall as three stories. In the center, there was a large pyramid, and in the back of the cavern, a waterfall crashed into a subterranean river. The river flowed out the opposite side of the cavern. An opening in the ceiling let the sunlight enter into the cavern.

"Gentlemen, and lady," Johann's voice boomed with excitement, "I present to you El Dorado."

On entering the city, the Germans fanned out. The deafening roar of the river died down to quiet rumble. A few birds flew from the buildings as the Germans approached. Apparently, the fowl must have fallen into the hole and have taken up residence here.

Dr. Strong noticed the dark shapes hanging from inside the opening of the cavern's ceiling. These were bats, which were another of the residents of the subterranean city. They would become livelier as the sun disappeared behind the mountains to the west.

Johann ran from building to building in excitement. The stories where the city had its building's walls encrusted in precious stones were obviously false. So to were the rumors of streets being lined in gold and silver. Nonetheless, the Germans ran from building to building looking for any riches.

All they turned up were some pottery, woven sleeping mats, and a few stone utensils. The closest thing to any precious metal returned to the feet of Captain Wolfgang was some copper rings. The captain coolly looked over at the feverish von Hutten.

"It must be here somewhere," raved the anxious German.

Johann grabbed Dr. Strong by his collars, "Where? Where is the treasure?" Johann screamed in the professor's face splattering it with spittle.

Dr. Strong slowly wiped the spit from his face and composed himself. "This city is itself the treasure. The things we could learn from it are incalculable..."

"Save me your speeches," raved Johann. "Every South American empire was built upon gold. This is no exception and you know it."

"Very well, the gold you seek is more than likely inside that pyramid," Dr. Strong waved his hand over towards the stone structure.

Captain Wolfgang whistled and motioned for his men to search the pyramid. Ten crewmembers and Johann von Hutten ran towards the pyramids carrying their tools. Captain Wolfgang and the two armed guards remained with Rebecca and Dr. Strong.

"If you are correct Herr doktor," Wolfgang said stoically, "you and your daughter will be left at some local village. Provided there are no further escape attempts."

Dr. Strong nodded his head and wrapped his arm around his daughter. Rebecca felt exhaustion overcome her body and sat on the street. She could not believe that one way or another they were at the end of their journey. She just prayed that her father was correct about the treasure being in the temple.

Suddenly, the screams and yells of the German crewmembers escaped from the pyramid's interior. For the first time the Strongs noticed some signs of emotion pass across the face of Captain Wolfgang. He took a few steps toward the pyramid when Johann came running out.

"It's there! It's all there!" yelled Johann as he thrust a golden statue into Wolfgang's hands. The captain studied the scowling expression of the ancient god. The small statue easily had to be twenty-five pounds. A smile spread across Wolfgang's face. The sight of the smile filled the Strongs with dread, for it was cold and lifeless.

"Load the packs and return to the zeppelin," Wolfgang ordered.

Johann smiled broadly and saluted the captain, "Ja wohl, mein herr."

Johann returned to the interior of the pyramid. Wolfgang then motioned for the two guards to join the men already at work within.

"I take it I don't need to waste any men on watching you two. Nonetheless, I'll keep watch over you," Wolfgang said.

Mac and Dan had taken cover inside a two-story building waiting for the Germans to enter the city. The plan was to ambush them as they walked down the main boulevard. However, when Mac noticed Rebecca and Dr. Strong amongst the Germans he held his fire. They needed a new plan.

Mac and Dan held a quiet council as the Germans ran from building to building. They decided to wait until the Germans left the Strongs unguarded. Until then the risk was too great. When Johann violently grabbed Dr. Strong, Mac felt he might have to risk confrontation. He had the Tommy gun to his shoulder aiming at von Hutten when he suddenly let the professor go.

They watched as the Germans ran for the pyramid. Even with only two guards and an officer Mac held his fire.

"Mac," hissed Dan next to his ear. "Look at the officer."

Mac gazed through the dusty air at the officer. At first, he did not see what Dan was getting at. Then he nearly gasped aloud when he realized who he was. Captain Wolfgang, the supposed leader of the Stein Ritter and a German top ace during the Great War. Mac had never confronted the German personally, but all his friends who did never returned alive. He owed Wolfgang a blood debt.

Mac knew Wolfgang by sight because he worked with the British and French secret service trying to hunt the pilot down. He was more dangerous than even the Red Baron. Now after all these years Mac might just have his revenge. Mac put the Tommy gun to his shoulder again and slowly began to pull the trigger.

Dan put his hand on Mac's shoulder forestalling him from firing. "Wait!" Dan whispered loudly.

Mac watched as von Hutten ran out of the temple and presented something to Wolfgang. Johann was obviously excited about something. Wolfgang ordered the guards watching over the Strongs to enter the pyramid along with Johann.

Mac and Dan again held another quick planning session. Mac would provide cover while Dan grabbed the professor and his daughter and escorted them to safety. For the third time, Mac raised the Thompson waiting for Dan to signal when he was ready.

The birdcall alerted Mac who sighted low in front of Wolfgang. He could not risk hitting either of the hostages. He had to make the captain seek cover.

The Tommy gun opened up. Shards of stone flew up from the street as the rapid burst of .45 bullets ripped into the blocks. Wolfgang instinctively ducked into the cover of a nearby building.

Dan did not waste any time running out and grabbing the archaeologist and his daughter. He pulled the pair into the building where Mac and he were hiding. After he pulled them to the second story room where Mac was firing burst after burst, Dan began to fire at the Germans running out of the pyramid with his Lee-Enfield.

Rebecca sat on the cold stone street with her father holding her in his arms. They had both been through quite a lot in the last few days. They still mourned the deaths of Mac and Dan. They still did not know if they could trust the captain.

Surprise gripped them when the street suddenly appeared to explode in front of Captain Wolfgang. Bits of rock and dust showered the Strongs. They watched as the captain ducked inside a nearby stone structure.

A stranger ran up to them and grabbed them. He led them inside a stone building and up to the second story. There they saw a man firing a gangster's submachine gun into the street below.

Rebecca let out a gasp when she realized that the men were indeed Mac MacKinnon and Dan Edwards. For the first time since her abduction joy returned to her heart. She could see that her father also recognized their saviors.

Bullets began to slam into the walls next to them as the Germans began to return fire. Rebecca and Hugo Strong ducked down onto the floor seeking what little cover they could.

Wolfgang was only momentarily caught off guard when the submachine gun opened up on him. Without a second thought, he jumped into a nearby doorway. Somehow, someone had followed them into the cavern and was now firing upon him.

He reached for his Luger and cocked it. Wolfgang noticed that the Strongs had disappeared. More than likely, the men in the building across the street had rescued them. Wolfgang could not make out anyone inside the building, but he could make out the muzzle flash of the automatic weapon.

By now, the crewmembers were pouring out of the pyramid carrying their cargo as well as their own weapons with them. These unfortunately, were only two rifles and eleven pistols. Nonetheless, Wolfgang surmised that there could only be two assailants in the building.

Wolfgang started firing at the muzzle flashes in the second story room. He did not know if his bullets had found their marks or not. He did not have time to find out.

"Johann," Wolfgang yelled, "return to the zeppelin with the treasure now!"

"Ja wohl!" Johann replied from near the entrance of the pyramid.

Mac ducked back into the room as a rain of bullets pelted the small room. Mac dug into his backpack and produced another fifty round drum that he fitted into the Tommy gun. Dan continued to work his bolt-action rifle.

Mac returned to the window just in time to see the Germans by the pyramid begin to run for the cavern opening. Only two riflemen remained concealed to pin Mac and Dan down as the rest of the Germans made for the exit.

Dan dropped the two riflemen in a matter of seconds. Mac for his part, fired into the crowd as they ran out of the cavern. Most were loaded down with packs of gold. Ironically, the gold saved many of their lives as the .45 pistol rounds fired by the Thompson bounced off the precious metal in their packs.

However, Mac did manage to drop three men before they left the cavern. The men lay still on the ground as their life's blood pooled beneath them. The rest of the Germans including Johann and Wolfgang had managed to escape the ambush.

Not bad Mac smiled inwardly. They at least had saved the professor and Rebecca.

Mac and Dan searched the bodies of the dead crewmembers. Dan stood watch by the cavern entrance in case the Germans decided to return. In the mean time, Mac explained to the Strongs how he and Dan made their daring escapes from the clutches of the Germans.

It was obvious that after two hours the Germans were not returning. To pass the time, Dr. Strong searched the pyramid and collected a few clay tablets and figurines. Mac forbade anyone from taking any gold. The weight could be deadly if they needed to run once they made their way back to the surface.

Mac led the way back up the passageway as they began their return trip. He had the Thompson in one hand and his flashlight in the other. Dan was close behind holding his Schofield; he had surrendered his Lee-Enfield to the professor.

The roar of the river again drowned out but the loudest voice as the party continued on their way to the surface. Mac was becoming more uneasy as they continued on their way to the surface. Certainly, the Germans would not let them get away so easily. They must be laying a trap or waiting in ambush somewhere ahead.

They were only a half a mile from the surface when they heard the explosion. The passageway shook and dust rained down on them. Fortunately, the ancient architects were superb builders and the passageway did not collapse upon them. Mac waited a few minutes for the dust to settle. Then he ran ahead leaving Dan with Rebecca and Dr. Strong.

A few hundred yards ahead confirmed Mac's worst fears. The Germans had sabotaged the passageway. The entire length of the passage from here to the surface had collapsed. The small party had no chance of escape by going this way. So they returned to the cavern.

Mac looked around for a back door. Unfortunately, there was none. Even the ceiling opening was beyond their reach. The sun was rapidly disappearing behind the Andes. Soon darkness would envelope the cavern.

How long could they survive with no food? They had plenty of water…

Suddenly, Mac jumped up.

"I've got it!" Mac exclaimed.

"What is it?" Dan asked excitedly.

"Quickly, before we lose the light. Gather any wood you can find. We'll go out down the river."

"We don't know what is down the river," Dr. Strong pointed out.

"But we know we'll die if we stay here," insisted Mac.

Just before the last rays of sunlight exited the cavern for the night, the small group had manufactured a small raft. It was not large enough for them to all sit on, but they could hold on to it to keep them afloat as they flowed down the river.

Mac and Dan lashed the packs and weapons onto the raft. Once the small party was ready, they grabbed onto the raft. Each had a vine wrapped around a hand. If worse came to worse and they need to escape the raft all they had to do was unwrap their hand.

The four companions then pushed off from the riverbank to the center of the stream. The water was refreshingly cold. Even now in the night, the jungle heat and humidity was stifling. However, Mac knew that any prolong exposure to the subterranean water could lead to hypothermia and then death.

The current was strong and before long, the raft with its four passengers was rushing downstream. There was barely enough headroom as the river exited the cavern out the small tunnel. Mac had his flashlight strapped to the top of the raft to provide any light. How long it would last, he did not know. The batteries could die or the water could short it out. Mac did his best to water proof it by wrapping wet clay around the flashlight.

The tunnel appeared to stretch on endlessly. The twists and turns would occasionally bash the occupants against the wall. Fortunately, the walls were smooth and the channel was deep. They had to avoid the occasional stalactite as a sudden surge upward could leave one impaled upon the sharp protuberances.

Mac figured that they had already covered several miles in the few minutes they were in the river. By good luck, the river never submerged its occupants underwater for any prolonged time. That was another fear Mac had, but he felt best not to mention it.

As the raft continued to flow down the watery course, the flashlight began to dim. When the light went out their chances of survival also lessened. They could no longer see the dangerous stalactites nor prepare for the turns.

They sped along even faster now. The channel was narrowing. Before the flashlight died, Mac notice that there was light coming from up ahead. His spirits raised considerable. Then they dropped just as suddenly when he heard the roaring of a waterfall. There was no escape; the river pulled them at an alarming rate towards the watery cliff.

Mac took a deep breath as they exited the tunnel and began the plummet over the edge of the waterfall. Mac tried to unwind his wrists from the raft but as they tumbled repeatedly, it became impossible. The passengers bashed and banged either into each other or into the raft as they plunged downward.

Then the river drove the raft underwater as they splashed down into the pool at the waterfall's base. Remarkably, the raft had remained together and its passengers, though battered, bruised, and waterlogged were all alive. The moon was high in the night sky.

The four companions had found themselves in a lake. They began to swim to the closest shore and pulled the raft behind them. Soon they beached themselves upon the sandy bank. The jungle foliage reached out to envelope them.

Rebecca coughed and sputtered. Dr. Strong stood up and stretched his bruised limbs. He was looking out onto the lake when a gasp escaped his lips.

"Well, doesn't that beat all," the archaeologist said.

Mac looked out onto the lake to see what Dr. Strong was looking at. There parked in the center of the lake sat the zeppelin. The giant aircraft was beginning to lift itself up from the water. Mac quickly began to untie their possessions from the raft.

The airship was too far out for his Tommy gun to be any use. Therefore, Mac grabbed Dan's Lee-Enfield. He ran a few yards up the lakeside to gain a better perspective on the zeppelin and in the case the Germans returned fire they would not inadvertently hit the professor or his daughter.

The airship was now above the treetops. It was soon pulling away. The moonlight did not make for the best of shooting conditions; however, Mac had to try to stop the Germans from escaping. The zeppelin was almost at the extreme range of the British rifle.

Mac took careful aim. There was very little chance he would be able to ignite the highly combustible hydrogen gas with a simple rifle round. At best, he could only puncture the airbag. Even then, the Germans could repair it before the ship lost much gas. During the Great War, the attack aircraft were loaded with incendiary rounds. Something he did not have for the Lee-Enfield.

However, Mac needed to do something. The zeppelin was rapidly increasing its speed. Mac squeezed the trigger. If he hit, he did not know. He fired repeatedly. Mac fired his last bullet before the zeppelin pulled out of range. Mac could not be sure but he thought he might have seen a flash on the zeppelin.

As the zeppelin pulled beyond their view Mac knew that against all odds he must have hit a girder, causing a spark that ignited the hydrogen gas. For the skyline was beginning to brighten over the horizon.

The next morning Dr. Strong led everyone back to the pyramid temple. Just as Mac had feared, the Germans had permanently sealed off the entrance to El Dorado.

"What a pity," Dr. Strong lamented.

"I can't say it was all a loss," Dan replied.

"How so?" Mac asked arching one of his eyebrows.

"You said not to take any gold but you said nothing of precious stones," Dan said as he began emptying his many pockets filled with emeralds, sapphires and other stones.

"There was more than monetary wealth contained in there," Dr. Strong continued.

"I'm afraid the few artifacts you packed away will have to suffice. But, I believe that the world is not yet ready for El Dorado. Maybe it is all for the best," Mac said.

Dr. Strong nodded his head, "Perhaps you are right. I believe you know the way to your plane from here."

"Just one minute," Mac replied as he ran up the stairs of the temple. In a few minutes, he returned with the crystal skull. He handed it over to Dr. Strong.

As they were flying back to British Honduras, Mac searched the jungle for any signs of the burning zeppelin. After a few minutes, Mac sighted the burned jungle near the river's edge. The burning aircraft must have crashed into the deep river where it sank.

Mac returned the floatplane to Major Roger White who was again sitting with his colleague in the cantina. Mac introduced Rebecca and Hugo Strong to Major White and Dr. Frederick Mitchell-Hedges. The major and the British archaeologist looked over the four adventurers. They all appeared the worse for wear.

"I'd love to know what you've been up to, Captain," the major said.

Dr. Mitchell-Hedges started a conversation with his American counterpart. Dr. Strong only commented that he was on another futile search for the Lost City of Gold.

"Speaking of futile searches. I've been searching for the perfect gift to give my daughter Anna for her birthday. I'm afraid I too have ‘struck out' as you Yanks say," Mitchell-Hedges said a little downtrodden.

"Perhaps, I may help out," Dr. Strong offered. "I did find this on our trek why don't you give it to your daughter." Hugo pulled out the crystal skull and handed it to the British archaeologist.

Mitchell-Hedges smiled and looked at the crystal skull, "Beautiful, just beautiful. She'll love it. How can I repay you?"

Dr. Strong laughed as he pulled Rebecca over, "Let's just say that I too understand how important it is to present the perfect gift to a daughter."

Rebecca blushed, "Oh Dad!" Rebecca then kissed her father on the cheek.

Dr. Reeve rapped his knuckles lightly on the closed door. The plain white door in the plain white wall was similar to the one belonging to Dr. Reeve's laboratory except this one had "Dr. David Poole" stenciled in black on the opaque window.

"Enter, enter," an excited voice answered from the other side.

Dr. Reeve swung the door open and entered the sterile room. The lab also resembled Reeve's lab. Worktables cluttered with a medley of apparatus pertaining to whatever the researcher was currently working on. On the walls were attached various charts and clipboards holding sheets of data.

Like Reeve, Dr. Poole was wearing the ubiquitous lab coat covering a white dress shirt, black tie and black slacks. The coat's pockets stuffed with pens, markers, slide-rule and a sundry of various small implements made Dr. Poole look like a walking advertisement for an office supply store.

"Dave, I came as soon as I could break away," Dr. Reeve said. "By your message I assume it is something important."

"Yes! Yes, very important, Frank," Dr. Poole replied. "Here take a seat."

Dr. Reeve sat down on the metal folding chair that Dr. Poole offered. The excited Poole then walked to the wall and flipped the light switch. Darkness completely enveloped the room.

"What do you see?" Poole asked his excitement barely contained.

"I can't see anything, Dave" Reeve responded.

"Of course not!" snapped Dr. Poole. "That is what Jenkins is working on next door."

"OH!" exclaimed Reeve. "I see it now. You did it! I see nothing."

Dr. Poole flipped the lights back on. Then he snatched a clipboard off the wall.

"Look at these figures," Poole gave the clipboard to Dr. Reeve.

Dr. Reeve pulled his black framed glasses out of his shirt pocket unfolded them and placed them on his face. He then meticulously flipped through the white sheets one after another. Not a page had anything written on it.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," Reeve responded.

"Years of research and thousands in grant moneys well spent," beamed Dr. Poole. "You know it was Arthur Jenkins who put me on the right path."

"What's he working on again?" asked Dr. Reeve.

Poole snorted, "He's working on anything and everything. Of course he hasn't found anything yet."

"Well, I'm afraid I'm still searching for something. Looks like you've got us beat Dave."

Dr. Poole again started to get excited, "Just think of it. The blind can see it. The deaf can hear it and the dumb can speak it! It's truly an amazing breakthrough."

"Are there any negative effects?" probed Dr. Poole.

Dr. Poole took on a downcast look, "Well, Frank. It is stronger than God."

Dr. Reeve sternly looked over at Poole. "We better be careful to whom we give it to."

"Quite, quite," Poole said thoughtfully.

Dr. Reeve stood up and shook Poole's hand. "Congratulations, Dave. I assume you'll be a very wealthy man now."

Poole looked down at the floor, "Yeah, there' been a snag in that."

"Oh, I can't believe that. You know the lab allows you to patent any discoveries from your research as long as it gets exclusive distribution rights," Reeve consoled Poole.

"Yes, I've already looked into that," Poole said somberly. "That's why I've asked you over today."

"I'm afraid I don't quite follow." Reeve said scratching his head, "You've already found nothing. I'm still working on something and Jenkins is still looking for anything and everything."

"Well, I'm afraid I got so wrapped in the research of nothing I neglected to check out certain patent rules," Poole said forlornly. "I went down to the office to patent my discovery and the clerk asked me if I hand anything to patent. I snorted at that because he must have thought I was Jenkins. Anyway, I replied I had nothing. He then said I must at least have something."

"Hmmm...that is a setback," Reeve said.

"Yeah, I have nothing to patent and it cannot be patented. So I was wondering if maybe..." Dr. Reeve looked down at the floor.

"Yes?"

"This is a bit embarrassing, and I rather ask you than Jenkins -- but -- would you -- um -- like some -- er -- help looking for something?"

This is an attempt to capture the history of the TSA on paper before it is lost to the annals of time. The author apologizes for any errors and/or poor writing contained within this document. That being said let it be know that all information contain within is for your eyes only and sharing it with those without the proper security clearance will result in immediate capital punishment and eternal damnation.

During the last half of the twenty-first century, the political climate of the country known at the time as the United States of America (USA) had changed radically. For three hundred years, the USA was in a struggle between the believers and the non-believers. One of the founding tenants of the country was the freedom of religion, or the ability for the citizens to practice whatever religion they wanted without persecution from the government. This also included those who chose not to believe in any religion.

Due to this evil practice, the country found itself in a massive economic depression. This depression left one out of four Americans out of work. Food riots were common as a terrible drought followed in the wake of the economic collapse. As whole cities burned under the torches of its disgruntled occupants, anarchy ruled the land. The government was helpless to stem the tide of chaos gripping the country.

When the United States of America faced its greatest internal threat since its civil war in the nineteenth century, it was during this time that a man came forth. This man was a man of God. The true and living God and not the pagan gods worshiped by so many. With the Holy Bible in one hand and rifle in another, the first Prophet rose to power.

The story goes that Prophet Thomas W. Douglas had a vision of Jesus Christ telling him how to reclaim the land in His name. A new promise land of milk and honey, like that in the found in the Old Testament, would arise from the dust of the unrighteous USA.

Prophet Thom, as many affectionately called him, spread his vision amongst the masses. People found what they had been missing in their souls for generations, the word of God. They were feeling the power of His wrath but had little knowledge on how to placate the Lord.

Prophet Thom had the answer. First, he set up networks to help feed those who were hungry. Then he mobilized his own Christian army to protect those communities of believers trying to withstand the storm of chaos and anarchy gripping the nation.

At first, the government was overjoyed to find someone with the ability to calm down the rebelling citizenry. Prophet Thom used his influence to guide the direction the United States government took to restore law and order. New laws arose to help bring peace and prosperity to the land.

Though calm returned to the land, many remained critical of the Prophet. Some cited Prophet Thom's background as a believer in the Prosperity Theology. They claimed he was more for rewarding those with wealth over helping those without it. It is a well-known truth that God wants Christians to be abundantly successful in every way and what better way to prove God's favor than with financial prosperity. Therefore, the obverse must surely be as true.

Others claimed that Prophet Thom's faith in a Christian God and promoting a strict conservative Christian agenda did more to divide America than heal its wounds. However, it was those very same strict conservative Christian views that drew many to the Prophet and helped restore peace and prosperity to the land.

As time passed and Prophet Thom's popularity exploded, many in the United States government began to become concerned. Those who were against the Prophet from the beginning (called "liberals") became frightened at the prospect of losing control. In addition, there were some who welcomed the Prophet's help during the chaotic years before the restoration of peace, but now feared the influence the Prophet had over the populace. These people were agents of Satan and Prophet Thom knew how to deal with them.

With much secrecy and planning, Prophet Thom was able to do something that had never happened in the United States of America before, a bloodless coup. In the years after the chaos that nearly destroyed the nation, the Lord God had placed the faithful in key positions within the government and the military. When the proper time came, the United States of America died one night and the Theocratic States of America came to life the next morning.

The Prophet proved generous to his adversaries after the new nation came to be. They had the choice of reeducation to become valuable members of society or prison for those who stubbornly refused to submit to the will of the Prophet and therefore the Lord. Alternatively, if all else failed they lived out their days in the work camps (the wicked came to call them 'death camps').

The first years of the Theocratic States of America were fraught with the struggle between good and evil. It was during these years that many threats hidden for centuries came to light. Fortunately, the first Prophet had the Lord on his side to help him weather and defeat these dangers.

The economy nearly collapsed as it had done nearly a decade before. However, with the new work camps in place all over the nation, production of material goods exploded. The financiers of the Prophet's economic plan found God's favor as their own wealth also exploded.

To further help the growth of the new nation's economy the Prophet in his divine wisdom slashed the big burden of the wealthy, namely taxes. The favored, as the wealthy are now called, found more help from the Prophet with his ordaining that the middleclass (the select) become more self-sufficient. Thus, this group would have to pay for their own healthcare and for their own retirement to name two burdens. For those few who were able to transcend the barrier between the select and favored statuses, they were truly on the path of God. There was much rejoicing amongst the Godly people.

However, there were also a lot of lamentations amongst those of the select who now found that they were being punished by the Lord for their sins. These found themselves amongst the poor (called the lost). As the population of the lost grew and many threatened violence, the Prophet again acted in wisdom and speed. He moved the lost into segregated communities away from the favored and select. Many came to be housed in the ruins of the cities they had burned the decade before during the riots of the depression years. These new cities were soon the sites of many work camps and farms. The city security forces were able to monitor the lost with tracking devices implanted deeply inside their skulls.

However, it came to be that not all of the wealthy were the favored. Satan had hidden many of his own servants amongst the righteous. Those who would not come to Christ and follow the path laid down by the Prophet, found themselves stripped of their wealth and given the choice of reeducation, prison, or the work camps. No matter the incentives or proofs given to some of the unenlightened, they refused to acknowledge the living God. The damned is the title that refers to these unfortunate people, for they are beyond the grace of God and must spend the rest of their miserable life in the work camps.

As all this was happening, further seeds planted by Satan throughout the centuries sprouted. Many of the so-called mainstream Christian religions protested and fought for the rights of the select, lost, and even the damned. The Prince of Darkness had surely woven his own designs into these faiths during their foundations.

Once more the Prophet came to the rescue of the faithful. All who called themselves Catholic, Lutheran, Methodist, Episcopalian, Protestant, etc. were given the choice again of reeducation, prison, or the work camps. It was further proof of God's happiness. After all, as the work camps grew in number and strength, so did the wealth of the nation and the favored.

These events and the first Prophet's responses are all part of the Great Cleansing that swept the TSA in its early years. As the revelations of Satan's servants and his plans came to the first Prophet's knowledge, Prophet Thom had a vision. The vision revealed the true cunning of Satan, for the source of all the corruption laid amongst the very pages of the Holy Bible. With the hand of God as his guide, the Prophet rewrote the Holy Bible into the Prophetic Bible. No longer were there teachings for helping the select, lost, or damned. Nor were there condemnation of the favored. It had taken over two-thousand years after the death of Christ for the first true teachings to reach the printed page.

If the root of Satan's evil could manifest itself in something as sacred as the Holy Bible it certainly resided elsewhere. Great pyres burned across the land to consume any objectionable literary, artistic or other media works. Such heretical documents like ‘The Constitution of the United States' or ‘Magna Carta' burned in the Holy Flames. Anyone found having in his or her possession any forbidden material would face immediate execution.

The first Prophet also saw the restructuring of the sciences. Many heretical scientific theories, like evolution, were obviously the product of Satan and therefore to follow them further would only lead to damnation. In addition, other sciences are the will of God, particularly those that promoted a strong military.

Alas, like Moses before him Prophet Thom did not live to see the fruition of his toils. An assassin hidden deep amongst the ranks of the favored and a close companion of the Prophet gave Prophet Thom a higher rank, that of Martyr Thom. Historians speculate that the assassin, whose name shall never find its way on the printed page, killed Prophet Thom in order to take over the nation. Fortunately, the faithful amongst the favored dashed the assassin of his dreams and sent him back to Satan.

By the blessing of the Most High, did a second Prophet arise from the order of the favored. Even though Prophet Thom had laid the foundation of the Theocratic States of America there was still much work to do.

The same depression that had gripped the United States of America had also spread across the world. There was not a single nation spared from the economic collapse. It was so immense that nearly every bank across the globe failed. Many nations tried to rise up from the ashes of the old world like the United States did but few succeeded.

Only by the will of God did the rise of the Theocratic States of America occur as the rest of the globe's governments failed. The first Prophet in his divine wisdom had sent missionaries across the globe to spread the Word. Many people found encouragement with the teachings of the Prophet. Others martyred the missionaries, raising them onto Sainthood.

So, it fell upon the second and third Prophets to continue Prophet Thom's great work. As the world fell deeper into turmoil and despair, the words of the first Prophet began to take root. The message spread and many nations arose like the mythical Phoenix from the ashes of the old world to a new enlightened world.

However, not every nation wanted to follow the true path. Those nations became increasing fearful and resentful of the TSA. They claimed that the TSA was in the midst of another dark age. However, in truth, the TSA sparked a new age of religious enlightenment. In another desperate attack, Satan spurred these heretical nations to start a great nuclear holocaust and World War III consumed great portions of the globe.

Fortunately, for the Theocratic States, it had inherited the satellite and missile defense grid from the old United States of America. Not a single nuclear missile found its way to the North American continent. Sadly, many of the TSA's new allies were not as fortunate.

However, those nations in Western Europe remained relatively untouched for they were under the TSA's defense umbrella, those outside it paid dearly. The TSA's own nuclear arsenal eradicated many hostile and evil nations. However, for fear of harming its neighbors, the Theocratic States sent its Christian armies on a crusade against those nations too close for the safe use of nuclear arms.

Nations resistant to the true word were conquered and put to the sword. Country's that harbored such heretical beliefs like Italy, Israel, Saudi Arabia, and India all fell to the combined use of modern military tactics and nuclear weapons.

Now, these victories did not come without a price. But, those TSA soldiers who fell in combat will find themselves seated next to Jesus and the Prophet in Heaven. For those who opposed the Holy Army, they will find themselves experiencing eternal torment and damnation.

These wars lasted many generations. As further proofs of the Lords approval, the war increased the wealth of the TSA and the favored. It became law that none of the favored could serve in the military. However, the select could be officers and the mandatory conscription of the lost built a large and formidable army. The fourth Prophet ordained that any of the lost or select who fell in combat would find themselves in elevated status in Heaven.

So, it came to be that nation after nation came to follow the TSA's example and the word of the Prophet took hold among these new nations. Those nations that did not submit to the will of the Lord felt His wrath. Therefore, much of the Middle East, Asia, and parts of Eastern Europe are uninhabitable wastelands to this very day.

It was the fifth Prophet who had the vision that the education of the lost and damned should be limited to the study of the Prophetic Bible. Thusly, through this they may find redemption in Heaven.

Satan in a final act of retaliation, decided to corrupt the Earth. Deserts expanded overtaking once lush and fertile lands. Mass extinction of wildlife abounded as natural habitats dwindled. Icecaps melted threatening the coastal areas of the world.

However, the Lord through the fifth Prophet revealed that a great wealth of natural resources like coal, oil, and uranium lay open on these once enclosed lands. The favored were able to live in lush lifestyle ordained by the Most High in the center of the great domed cities, like the capitol, Holy City. The select were able to live in modest dwellings in the suburbs under the domes.

The lost and the damned continued to work in the exposed world as punishment for their sins. It is obviously God's will for no matter how many of the lost and the damned die there are always a greater number to take their place.

Now, it was during the reign of the sixth Prophet that a revelation...

The woman wearing the camouflage armor of an enlisted personnel tossed the document into the flames of the burning ruins of the Prophet's House. By the flickering light of the fires burning around Holy City the soldier checked the clip of her pulse plasma-rifle. The other soldiers belonging to the order of the lost had risen this night in revolt. Their plasma-rifles flashed in pulses as they fought the few remaining ill-armed security forces of the ruined domed city. The rebellion was well coordinated and the same scene played itself out across the globe.

"Sure," the soldier thought, "They forbade us to learn. But, they did not know we kept a secret trove of books spared from the Great Cleansing. They wouldn't teach us so we taught ourselves and tonight two-hundred years of oppression ends."

In 2003 the discovery of Homo Floresiensis created a stir in the international academic community. Widely contested, the species was allegedly a sort of dwarf man with a small skeletal structure and brain. It was this small size that led to the species being nicknamed Hobbits. Many supporters believed that they must have had a moderate intelligence because at no time in the probable history of the species was the island connected to any other land mass. This led to the conclusion that they might have built rafts to travel between islands, which meant they must have had technology and more than likely had language.

The most interesting part of the discovery was to me the time frame in which they were believed to have existed: up to 12,000 years ago. If this was correct, it would make them the most recent relative of Homo Sapiens to survive. Thus, surpassing even the Neanderthals by up to 12,000 years.

While all this interested me, the part of the story that truly drew me in was the legend of the Ebu Gogo. Members of the Nage, a tribe local to the island of Flores, claimed that there were a race of little cave dwelling men sharing the island with them up until around 300 years ago. At this time their tribe disposed of the Ebu Gogo by presenting them with palm fibers to make clothes. However, the Nage ignited the fibers. According to the legend, once the Ebu Gogo had taken these palm fibers back to their cave, all of them perished in fire that day. Some say that perhaps one pair, which retreated into the deepest forest, managed to survive.

I was twenty-one years old and a student of Anthropology at Florida State University when the discovery was announced in 2004. I followed the controversy closely. I was enraptured by the thought of finding the cave where the Ebu Gogo had been burnt and proving that H. Floresiensis had existed side by side with modern man. I wanted to prove the H. Sapiens might not be the only man around. In 2012 I graduated from FSU, and with the ink still wet on my PhD, I had no question where I was headed. You can call me a hopeless romantic, but there was no place but Flores for me.

I secured funding and authorization from the Indonesian government to study not H. Floresiensis but the Nage tribe. I was going to study their customs before the arrival of the Portuguese in the 16th century . Not much was know about the Nage. THey had not been studied except sparsely in the 1940’s by a Portuguese colonial officer. After that by a professor from the University of Alberta in the late twentieth century.

In my time on the island, I labored at my research on the Nage people. However, my personal time was spent hiking in the forests on the island, ducking into every cave I could find, and hoping I would get lucky. I did all this to no avail.

Five years after I had arrived on the island, I began to despair of ever finding anything even related to H. Floresiensis. Oh, I had seen stone tools and even on one occasion the actual skeletal remains of LB1, the first specimen discovered. Alas, I saw them in the museum in Jakarta. I longed to find anything in the field that might be related to H. Floresiensis. I drove deeper and deeper into the forest. It was nothing but sheer desperation that led me to the greatest discovery ever.

On one of my trips into the forest I came upon a large rock and decided to take a break from all the hiking. As usual, I began to day dream about what it would be like to be the one who discovered a living hominid outside of our own species. I realized in my day-dreaming that if H. Floresiensis hadn’t been found yet then they probably didn’t want to be found. How do you find someone who doesn’t want to be found? I realized that if they were still around that the Ebu Gogo would be hunter/gathers and most likely scavengers. On a whim I dug into my backpack and pulled out my extra canteen. I placed it on the rock and left it with the intent to come back and see if it was missing. Now that I had made my shot in the dark, I headed back to civilization.

Two weeks passed before I could make it back to the rock. When I did make it back ,much to my surprise, the canteen was gone. I ran through the possibilities. Someone from the village might have come by and picked it up. However, the villagers tended to stay away from the deep forest. Legend held that the spirits of the slaughtered Ebu Gogo haunted the forest and expressed ill will and bad luck towards any who ventured too deep. An animal might have carried it off but that too was unlikely as Flores is one of the few islands in the south pacific without monkeys. Lastly, the most unlikely scenario and the one that I dared not let get my hopes up -- a member of H. Floresiensis had acquired it.

Really I had only one option: to carry on with the experiment. Thus, out of my pack I pulled the hatchet I had brought with me. I placed it on the rock with the determination that I would return in exactly the same amount of time that it had taken me to return the first time. As I hiked out of the forest, I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched. To be honest, it excited me.

When I returned to the village I ordered a motion sensing camera from Jakarta and set about documenting what I had done so far. I was after all, a scientist. Now that the excitement had bled out, I hit the second phase commonly associated with discovery, doubt. I began to wonder why I had just spent much of the meager salary I received on the camera. Even more so, I began to ask myself what if? What if my wildest dreams were true and I had begun to make contact? I had broken a cardinal rule of first contact. I had introduced them to tools and workmanship far beyond their capacity to make. I wondered if I should call it off, but the schoolboy in me refused to do so. I knew I would take flak for the mistake if I had truly made contact. Nonetheless, the damage was done and there was nothing I could do about it.

The next two weeks passed with excruciating slowness, but finally it was time for me to return to the forest. My camera had arrived only the day before. This had caused me no shortage of worry that it wouldn't arrive in time for this trip. Further, I would have wait another two weeks to find out what happened to the item that I left on the rock; if anything had. When I reached the rock my heart skipped a beat; the hatchet was gone! Turning to the first order of business, I installed the camera on a nearby tree with a good vantage of the rock. I then placed the mirror I had brought with me onto the rock. I was trying to stick to items that I knew would keep who or whatever coming back. As I left the forest this time, I again had the gut feeling that I was being watched. It was no wonder the villagers thought the forest was haunted.

I didn't think it was possible but the next two weeks went by even slower than the previous two. As I approached the rock, I noticed that -- as I now expected -- the mirror was gone. I took the straight edged knife I had brought with me and placed it on the rock and turned to retrieve the camera. As I looked at the tree where I had placed it, my heart jumped into my throat. The camera that would have given me an answer. The camera that would have dashed or exceed what I hoped for, was no longer attached to the tree, but instead lay on the ground in pieces. I walked over to the remains of my expensive camera and shook my head. I bent down to examined the remains and promptly began thanking god for the small miracle he had sent me. The film canister was intact! I had pictures!

I rushed back to the dark lab which I had built in my house to develop the pictures. I was too excited to notice whether or not I had the feeling of being watched. Back at home the couple of hours it took to develop the film felt longer than the entire previous month had. When I saw the first picture I started crying. Before me -- the pictures told the story quite clear. An approximately three and a half foot tall naked hairy man with a stance somewhere between us and a chimpanzee picked up the mirror and played with it! He then noticed the camera and started pulling on it. After about ten frames he apparently got frustrated and smashed it with a large stick.

Now I had to decide what my next step would be. The first thought that came to mind was publishing what I had in a journal like Nature. However, I then realized if I did that the first contact would be taken out of my hands and given to others more experienced than I. I decided that I would keep my discovery to myself and make contact on my own. I loaded up on more hatchets, knives and other things I thought might appeal to a primitive culture and prepared to head once again to the rock. My plan was to sit on the rock and surround myself with the "gifts" I brought.

After five painful hours of sitting on the rock, I had to get up and relieve myself. I walked over to the very tree that I had placed the camera on to do so. I finished and turned to return to my place on the rock and found myself face to face with three small but very intimidating stone spearheads.

My reaction was probably not the best.

I threw my hands up and shouted in English "I come in peace!"

There appeared to be some indecision from behind the spears as to what to do now that they had confronted me. The three spear holders chattered between themselves in a clickish language for a few minutes until one of the spears came down and the man holding it began to collect the items I had laid around the rock. I felt my chance to make contact sliding away from me, I decided to put all the chips on the table.

Bringing one of my arms down I pointed to myself and said, "Me Thomas."

This caused another bout of chattering before I again pointed to myself and repeated, "Me Thomas."

It must have sunk in that time because one of the men holding a spear on me then tapped himself and said, "Me Ullu."

He then tapped the other man holding a spear on me and said, "Me Nuah."

I laughed and tapping myself on the chest said, "Me Thomas." I then pointed at Ullu and said, "You Ullu." Finally, I pointed at Nuah and said, "Him Nuah."

Ullu thought for a second and then pointing at each as he said "Me Ullu, you Thomas, him Nuah!"

I smiled, nodded my head and said "Yes!"

The third member of their group came over then and Ullu pointed and said, "Him Ohgo."

He then gestured that we would begin walking. After a good hours hike we stopped at a large rock formation, Ullu and Nuah put their shoulders into it. After a bit of effort they shoved it to the side. Behind the rock lay a huge, naturally lit cave. Insider were about three hundred members of the Ebu Gogo inside working at various tasks. I was led inside, and the rock was once again rolled into place of the mouth of the cave. Once inside Ullu and I set to the task of learning to communicate with each other.

So began the two years I spent in the forest with the Ebu Gogo, learning their language, teaching them English and about the outside world.

It was almost exactly two years later that Ullu and I set out for Jakarta so that the Ebu Gogo could announce their existence to the world. The months following the press conference held by myself and Ullu are a blur in my memory. The United Nations dispatched the premier members of the scientific and medical community to confirm my claim that the Ebu Gogo were in fact H. Floresiensis. After the claim was substantiated the government of Indonesia was, after much financial persuasion by the governments of America and Europe, convinced to relocate the H. Sapiens off of the island of Flores. Thus giving the island to the Ebu Gogo as their homeland. With typical Ebu humor, Ullu and Ohgo convinced every member of the tribe to rename the island. Flores would forever be referred to as The Shire. The population of Ebu Gogo began to increase greatly. Further, Ullu served as their ambassador to the outside world. As a continuation of his joke, he took the last name Baggins.

The discovery of the Ebu Gogo brought new horizons and questions to many members of our own species. The Pope welcomed them as brothers in Christ. They also caused fear and hatred in others. The various Neo-Nazi groups labeled them as even more inferior than Jews. Above all, they caused wonder and excitement as they opened a new chapter in human history.

As for me, I drew the criticism I expected for doing what I did. Nonetheless, with the exception of the few death threats from the crazies, I was widely celebrated for my role in the discovery. The only question that remained was what I was going to do with the rest of my life. After searching for a while, all I could find was one answer. A few islands over in Sumatra there was widely believed to be an undiscovered great ape -- The Orang Pendak.

Author's Note: The discovery of H. Floresiensis, The Nage Tribe and the legends of the Ebu Gogo and Orang Pendak are all factual.