drdangles

 This story is a companion to my Blogs on Sept 8 2007 and Oct 15 2007. I hope all who read these enjoy them and find the story to be unfolding. Some of my other stories and poems also relate back to this one. Read carefully.

Richard N. Andrews sits in front of his desk and lonely typewriter. He is currently writing a book review for an unfamiliar publishing house. He types away at his rough draft, puzzled, not by what he has written. He is puzzled by what he has yet to discover.
  This is the first time that Richard has ever felt the need to read an original manuscript for a simple book review of a non-translated text. Yet here he sits surrounded by doubts. His research tells him that his report will be incorrect at best if he does not find a copy of the manuscript version.
 According to the few people who know anything about the rare book it is wholly and unimaginably different than the original manuscript. When questioned, even the publisher commented. “No, we do not have the manuscript. It disappeared years ago. We do have a copy of a complaint filed by the author stating that the book we printed and distributed was not the book he had delivered to us.”
 It is not uncommon for a book to become a collectable. Even for a manuscript to become a modern treasure. Many are kept in literary archives by nobleman and collectors the library of Welshman Joseph Culhwch is a striking example of rare manuscripts and first editions from around the world. Yet, his books are thoroughly archived, his volumes are known to those in the world of book collecting.
 Richard’s struggles to obtain the manuscript have left him mystified. He has spoken to nearly every collector he knows yet has ended his search empty handed. All he knows is that there are several or more copies of the original circulated personally by the books senior editor Jose Vasquez. Vasquez disappeared just weeks after accepting the manuscript.

 Sometimes, when life fails you it is just letting you know, you are on the wrong path.

 Later that evening Richard receives a call from a man claiming to be a book collector. “Mr. Andrews?” “Yes, call me Richard.” “Very well. I am responding to a query that was circulated to me through my usual channels. You can call me Thomas. I was told that you, my friend, seek The Clouds of Descent. Is this a fact?” Asks Thomas. “I have the book. I need the manuscript version.” Is Richard’s reply “ Is there any other version?” Asks the collector rhetorically.
 The young writer enticed by the book collectors’ playful misdirection replies. “From what I hear the true version was never published. Is this true?” “There are many versions. Few have the same entertainment value as the original.” Taunts the collector.
 Richard now annoyed with the coy games of a now obviously condescending collector gets right to the point. “Where is it? I only want to read the volume. That is all.” Still playing games the collector pauses before continuing. “The manuscript is in your grasp, it has been this entire time.”
 “Enough… Just answer me!” Richard now impatient and annoyed shouts into the phone. Knowing that his game is at an end the collector rapidly replies. “There is a man named Gustav, you know him. He will tell you how and where to meet Jose Vasquez. That is all I can say for now.”  Click…
 Richard, very upset, slams the receiver down. He sits in a recliner next to the phone and frustrated contemplates the name Gustav.
  “Gustav isn’t a collector. He has no connection’s to any book collectors.” Richard, confused and intrigued immediately begins digging through the phone stand drawers. He pulls out an old address book and opens it to G. He finds the number, picks up the phone and begins dialing. “I hope he still has the same number. It’s been years.” He mumbles to himself.
 Ring… Ring… Ring… “Hello.” Comes crackling over the receiver. “Hello. This is Richard Andrews. I am-“ Rapidly interrupted by the voice on the other line Richard stops to listen. “This is Gustav. I was told you would call. They told me to tell you to go to Puerto Rico. They will be waiting. They will contact you.” “Look-” says Richard. “I… It’s been so long. I am confused… Who are they?” “The Group. That is what they referred to themselves as. I was contacted by several of them over the last couple days. They are scaring me. I don’t know what sort of trouble you’re in. I don’t care either, you’re on your own with this. I just want them to go away.” Click. Gustav hangs up.
 “Twice in one night.” Richard mumbles dejectedly. “What is going on?”
 Richard dials the number several more times over the next few minutes. His calls are not answered. He places the receiver on its hook and sits silent.
 His old acquaintance, they weren’t even friends, sounded scared. He said he was. “What is The Group?” He says aloud. How did they know about Gustav, find him and set all this up, and why?
 Sitting, in the old recliner Richard stares into oblivion, deep thoughts arrest all his actions. He thinks for several hours, after much deliberation he decides to take the trip to Puerto Rico.
 Richard Andrews has spent most of his life writing about other peoples’ stories. Twenty long years since college he has been making a living writing book reviews for small newspapers and magazines across the east coast. Yet, he has always wished that he had some great adventures of his own to write about.
 Growing up in Du Quoin, Illinois imbued him with a desire to escape from the boring sometimes lonely, life of the small town. Later while attending CSU Richard found that living in a large city did not satiate this desire to escape as he thought it would. He knew then that only adventure could save him from his hearts wilting desire.
 It was with the knowledge of his longings eternal struggle that he struck down his dream with a final thrust. He returned to Du Quoin after college, never to wonder or dream his lost dream again.
 Until The Clouds of Descent fell into his lap he was happy just to read of others great desires and journeys. Oddly, in one volume of fiction, adventure did find him, its pages calling from within his heart.
 Richard arrives in Puerto Rico, after eight hours of flying and an overnight layover in Newark. Illinois behind him, he feels alive. Smoke filled and busy, the airport lobby is bustling with people. Richard is quickly flagged down by a driver and helped to his car.  “They must have tracked the ticket purchase.” Thinks Richard. “To know when and where I would arrive.” He expected no less. The Group has gone to great lengths to set up a meeting of some sort.
 He is taken to an extravagant house in the hills of Ceiba. The countryside is beautiful and lush green. Wildlife fills every niche of the forest. Richard feels at peace and becomes ever more fascinated by the view. He reaches the house toward sunset.
 Beautiful hard wood doors loom before Richard when he arrives. His driver leaves, Richard and luggage at the doorstep, without warning or word. The driver has already pulled away when Richard realizes that he might not want to be left alone here.
 The front door opens and an older man with weather worn dark skin greats him with a deep well spoken voice. “Hello, Richard. I am Jose Vasquez. I know of your current project and can imagine how difficult it must be to write about a book that you have never seen or read.” Richard not amused by the taunting overtone of the statement replies. “I have read the published version. I am, presumably, here to read the manuscript form. I have been told that there are major differences between the two versions.”
 “Come inside, my maid will carry your belongings to the guest room.” Says Jose very graciously. Richard enters and cautiously looks around while seeing to his belongings.
 “Jose” He says. “I am interested to know why you gave up your job at Pica? I assume it had something to do with the manuscript.”  “Yes, much more too. We will speak of these things over dinner.”
  Jose walks toward the dining room. “The table is already set have a seat. You must be hungry after all your travels.”
 Richard looks at the table and comments. “Is that duck?” “Yes.” Replies the host. “Would you like some tea?” Jose carefully pours a steaming cup. He seats his guest then himself.
 The two men sit and converse for several hours after finishing the meal. Their conversation becoming relaxed, Jose stands and motions Richard to follow as he leaves the room.
 “Richard, I want you to begin reading right away.” “Do, you have it here?” Richard asks anxiously. “Yes.” “What is The Group?” Inquires the mollified guest. “You will find out soon.” Says Jose as he opens the door to a Victorian style library.
 Bookcases line every wall. Their length and height mildly impressive, content equally so. In the middle of the room sit parlor chairs, couch, feinting couch and a marble topped console table, all Victorian. On the console table lay a lone near mint original manuscript. Its title page reads “The Clouds of Descent”.
 Richard sits in one of the parlor chairs and leafs through its pages. Jose clears his throat to regain Richards’ attention. “May I recommend you use one of the couches, I always use the couches, they are much more comfortable.” “If you insist.” Richard replies as he slips out of the chair without standing, turns slightly and slips onto the couch.
 He takes a note pad from his pocket and begins making notes on the authenticity and content of the pages. He carefully notes the stamp from Pica publishing with date of receipt, 1961.
 As Richard begins to read the first chapter Jose leaves the room. Alone Richard is quickly drawn in by the story and loses consciousness shortly after. He awakens marveling at how vivid the mental images became in his mind. Later, at dinner, he recounts this experience to Jose. “I am still not sure why I fell asleep. I must have been tired from the long trip.” Jose laughs at this and tells him he can return to his work tomorrow.
 Beginning in the morning and reading strait through till the evening, Richard finishes only half the text. He laments over this. He has fallen asleep at the end of every chapter, the duration of his naps increasing sequentially. “I must have some serious jet-lag.” He notes. Jose reassures him. “It is all part of the reading experience.”
 The third day Richard awakens early feeling well rested. Jose finds him immediately upon waking offering eggs and toast. “I am meeting two members of The Group today.” He says.
 Richard looks at him harshly while taking a bite of warm toast. “You still haven’t told me. What is The Group?”
 “Simply-“ Says Jose “it is those who possess the copies I made of the manuscript. Also, to answer the other question I didn’t answer before. I left Pica because I discovered the secret of the manuscript.”
 “Have you discovered the secret yet?” He asks Richard. “You lost me.” Replies the guest while scooping up the last of his eggs. “I will tell you about it sometime.”  Says Jose. “ For now finish your report.”
 Richard accepts this, knowing that Jose has kept his word thus far. He returns to his work.
 He decides to reread the last chapter he had finished the night before. Falling into the deepest slumber yet. Not even half way through the chapter.
 Meanwhile, Jose is talking to some friends in the parlor. “He is curious of the book. I don’t think he realizes its ability yet.”
 Carlotta, a young heiress from England, speaking in well pronounced English asks. “ How shall we proceed?” An older gentleman with a profound look of focus follows the conversation silently. Jose replies. “We shall ensure that his study of the document is safe in our possession. He will then be invited to our next meeting and ritual.”
 “Will he be so willing?” Asks Carlotta. “Yes.” Replies Jose. “Everything about this man tells me that he is going to be completely cooperative to our cause. We will talk to him as a group of friends who all possess and read the manuscript copies he will be admonished by our help. We will invite him to a party with the rest of the manuscript keepers at a remote location.” “I love your way of thinking.” Says the gentleman who was so thoughtfully listening.
 “I think this will work.” Adds Carlotta. “Once the report is published it will make it very difficult for Ramos to publish those later versions of The Clouds of Descent. All the publicity will have already passed. Ramos’ future will not be as powerful as it is now.”  She states sounding reassured. Jose asks the quiet gentleman his thoughts.
 “Yes, Jose I think we are doing the right thing. However, and I warn, we were all very sure of our success when we plotted the murder of Rias. It didn’t work. Our guile and trickery will work to slow down Ramos corruption of our manuscripts strength. Yet, I will not be sure of overall success until we take possession of the original. Further more, I think that we should rewrite Richards report before we publish it. We should change it to make claim that Ramos Gaucho is dead, so that his credibility as the author of the rare manuscript will be shattered. Keeping him from publishing facsimiles in the future.”
 “Very wise.” States Jose. “We cannot be too careful. It is in our best interest to try and prevent the whitewashing of our manuscripts ability to allow us to travel. However, these are all just precautions. No matter how reassured or safe you all feel by the actions being taken now, I have the real solution.”
 “One of us has reportedly found the original glyph versions location. This is the reason for our next ritual. Richard and I will travel back to get it.” Jose stops as if awaiting the others reactions. There is silence. “We need every one there to read simultaneously. It should allow us to travel outside the books sequence, like Ramos does. If it works we will get to the tome before the twins pick it up, which has not been possible till now.” 
  Jose is interrupted. Richard has finished reading and walks in on the gathering. “I am done.” He states. “Good, I want you to meet some of my friends. This young lady is Carlotta and this is my good friend William. They have traveled a long way to visit.” “Nice to meet you both.” Says Richard. “They both possess copies of the manuscript. Would you like to interview them for your report?” Asks Jose.

  After a long flight and much driving. They arrive in Coban in the late afternoon. The warm sun pounds down on the well foliated rainforest. “The humidity here is incredible” Says Richard. No one replies; they just keep moving through the forest toward the mountain on foot. “Is that where the meeting will be?” He asks pointing at a cave nearly seventy yards up the side of the mountain. “Yes.” Says Jose. “The others are already there preparing.”
 The four climb and hike their way up the mountain. Jose begins relating a story of Mayan ritual sacrifice and how the cave they are headed toward was once used for that purpose.
 “You see, inside this cave there is a cenotes. It is a large sinkhole spanning unknown depths. It is filled with pure rainwater and was once a source of life for the Mayans who lived here. It was believed to be a portal to the underworld and home to Chaac. The Maya here would sacrifice-” He stops. “We are almost there, I will tell you more about it later.”
 As they enter the cave they hear voices, the others. There are at least fifteen people sitting on the hard rock in a large semi circle. They are strangely garbed wearing robes with odd markings. Not what Richard had been expecting it sends chills up his spine.
 Dark and moist, the cave welcomes them further in. Close to the cenotes the darkness is more complete. Everyone begins breaking out chemical lights. The soft glow only lightly penetrates the darkness, just enough to facilitate reading.
  Jose addresses the group. “As you all know, we are here to try and grasp what cannot be held. Friends, we are travelers in this place. When we read we soar with our imaginations into unknown reaches trying to find ourselves. What we cannot grasp is in between here and there, somewhere in the clouds of our descent. Today, we will grasp those clouds and float forever in our true forms.”
 Richard looks on slightly scared. He keeps reminding himself of his desire for adventure. Nothing could be more adventurous now than being here doing this after all the weird circumstances that brought him here. Jose looks at him and whispers. “Don’t be afraid, we are going to read the book as a group now, that’s all.”
 The group begins reading aloud, all at once from different chapters and pages. It is a concert of confusion. Richard is lost but reads aloud following Jose.
 All the other voices begin to fade into a din of loud quiet. As if Richard has been made deaf by the noise; yet can hear his own voice, faintly. Warm visions wash through his imagination more powerfully than before in Jose’s Library.
 Jose and Richard are the only ones to fall asleep from the reading. Instructions were given to the others to stop just before the urge.

 Jose and Richard awaken lying on the rainforest floor. The mountain can just be seen in the distance. The beautifully sharp light cascades from the forest canopy throwing crisp shapes across the two men’s faces.
 Richard becomes strangely suspicious. “Did they drug me? How did we get out here? Did you drug me?” “No.” Says Jose. “It is the way of the book. You did it before when you read it and fell asleep. You just didn’t remember. It is common for beginners not to remember.”
 “I don’t believe you. All your talk of human sacrifice, the strange robes, you were trying to kill me.” Richards face is pale. “If we had drugged you with the intent to kill you, would you be here? Do you really think that is why I had you come all this way? Think about it.” Says Jose calmly. “I need you to be a member of The Group.”
 Richard takes a few deep breaths thinking about adventure. “I am alive.” He says to himself. “Are you ok yet?” Asks Jose. “When you’re ready we can walk and I will tell you more about the ritual sacrifice. It will explain why we chose that mountain and that chamber. Then I can tell you why we are here and where here is.”

 “Carlotta, they're back, why aren’t they moving?” “I don’t know, it’s dark in here. I can barely see my hands. Why don’t you check them?”
 “Carlotta… Something went wrong, their dead.”
 The group falls into panic; people begin running, screaming and grabbing their belongings. It is chaos around the cenotes. Barely able to see, William and Carlotta try to bring order. Their voices are lost in the echoes of screaming and people smashing into one another.
 At this moment a strange figure climbs out of the cenotes. Soaked head to toe, he attacks the mentally overwhelmed group members with a large rock and a knife. His body glistens in the rare beams of light. Cutting and smashing he severs vein and crushes bone. He decimates the strangely clad cult members in the near darkness.
 The stranger from the water makes his way out of the cave in blood soaked garments, while barking something in an unknown tongue.