F. Wilson - Secret Histories

“Yes-yes. Potassium argon. We did that.”

Jack waited to hear the results but the professor did not go on.

“And?” Weezy said.

Now the professor looked really uncomfortable. “The results were … how shal I say it?… inconclusive.”

Weezy shook her head, “I don’t understand what you mean. I understand what ‘inconclusive’ means, but what kind of inconclusive results are you talking

about?”

“You couldn’t date it?” Jack said.

“Oh, yes, we got a date, but an impossible date.”

Jack felt a fleeting tingle up his spine. Impossible? What kind of date would be impossible? He glanced over at Weezy and saw her sitting rigid in her

chair.

“W-what was the date?” she said.

The professor waved his hands. “I hesitate to tel you because it wil only fuel groundless speculation.”

Weezy looked ready to explode. She spoke through her teeth. “What … was … the … date?”

Professor Nakamura folded his hands on his desk and stared at them. He spoke in a low voice.

“Fourteen thousand years.”

In a flash Weezy was out of her seat and on her feet, leaning over the desk.

“Did I hear you right? Fourteen thousand years? Fourteen?”

“Yes.” The professor looked up at her. “And if you know anything about human history, you wil know that is impossible.”

“I know there’s a lot we don’t know about human history.”

The professor nodded. “This is true, and there are arguments about which human civilization was first. It appears to be Sumer, but that can be traced

back only to five thousand B.C.—seven thousand years ago. The test says your pyramid is twice as old. Clearly that is impossible.”

“Not if it belonged to an advanced civilization that was wiped out by the Great Flood.”

Jack glanced at her, not sure if she was kidding or not. But she looked dead serious.

“You mean like in the Bible?” he said. “Noah’s flood?”

Weezy kept her eyes on the professor. “The Sumerians had exactly the same legend, long before the Bible was written. Al the ancient civilizations of

that region had a story about a great flood that cleansed the land. Am I right, professor?”

He stared at her. “How old are you?”

“I’l be fifteen next month.”

“Fifteen … you know much for fifteen.”

“I read a lot. But back to the Great Flood. Maybe a flood was only part of it. Maybe it was much more severe. Maybe it wiped out the civilization that

made that little pyramid and forced human beings to start al over again from scratch.”

The professor rol ed his eyes. “Next you wil be quoting Immanuel Velikovsky.”

“I know the name,” she said, “but I’ve never read him. I’ve heard he’s a kook.” She smiled. “But then, some people think I’m a kook, so maybe I should

look him up.” She held out her hand. “May I have my

fourteen-thousand-year-old ‘hoax’ back now?”

“I am afraid I do not have it with me.”

Weezy frowned. “You’re going to run more tests?”

“Yes, but not me, personal y. I took the liberty of sending it to the Smithsonian Institution for dating.”

“You what? Without asking me?” She glanced quickly at Jack. “I mean, us?”

Jack didn’t care al that much that she’d added the “us.” He too was ticked that the professor had taken it upon himself to send their pyramid al the way

to Washington, D.C.

“Now just a minute, young lady. You gave that over to me for investigation and that is precisely what I am doing. The Smithsonian Institution has access

to equipment I do not. They wil find an accurate date of origin. Is that not what you wanted from me?”

Jack thought about that. He’d been to the Smithsonian on his eighth-grade trip just this past spring and had been wowed by the sheer size of the place

—al the buildings, al the exhibits. Too many to see on just one trip.

Weezy’s lower lip showed just a trace of a quiver. “But you should have asked first.”

The professor nodded. “Yes, I suppose I should have. But I thought you would be happy to know that some of the greatest experts in the field wil be

studying your artifact.”

“Wel ,” she said slowly, “I guess I am. But what if something happens to it along the way? Or what if it gets lost? Things get lost in the mail, you know.”

“Oh, no. I did not send it by mail. I used overnight delivery. Federal Express. And I packed it very careful y in a box. It wil be fine. The Smithsonian

Institution handles valuable artifacts al the time. They wil take good care of it.” “They’d better,” she said.

Jack didn’t see much point in hanging around here any longer so he rose and

stood next to Weezy.

“Wil you cal us as soon as you hear anything?”

The professor slid a sheet of paper and a pencil across the desk. “Leave me your phone numbers. As soon as I hear from the Smithsonian, you wil

hear from me.”

As Weezy wrote down their numbers, Jack said, “Professor, have you ever heard of a klazen?”

Weezy stopped writing but did not look up.

The professor frowned. “An unfamiliar term. What does it refer to?”

“I’m not sure. A creature, maybe? A spirit?”

“No. Most sorry. I have never heard of such a thing.”

Swel , Jack thought. I’m batting zero today.

“Wel ,” he said, squinting at Weezy outside Professor Nakamura’s house, “what do you think?”

Her expression was grim. “I think I wish I had the pyramid back. I’ve got a bad feeling …”

Jack tried to look on the bright side. “Yeah, but you’ve got to admit, if anyone can find out what that thing is, it’s the Smithsonian.”

“I suppose.” Suddenly she perked up and looked at him with bright eyes. “What if they come back with the same age? Fourteen thousand years! Do

you know what that means?”

“It means Professor Nakamura wil have to eat a big plate of fricasseed crow.”

She gave his arm a gentle slap. “Who cares about that. It means we’l have to start rewriting human history!”

Jack thought about that and found it kind of scary.

“Yeah, I guess we wil .”

Just then a blue Mustang convertible pul ed up with a grinning Carson Toliver behind the wheel. He pointed to Weezy.

“Hey, you fol owing me?”

She reddened. “No, I, no, I mean, no, we were just visiting Professor Nakamura.”

This guy had just turned the smartest girl Jack knew into a babbling boob.

“Aw, too bad,” he said, dramatical y snapping his fingers. “I was hoping you were. A guy likes to have a pretty girl fol owing him.”

Weezy said nothing, just stared.

“Hey,” Carson added, “I bet you like the Sex Pistols.”

Weezy hesitated, then said, “Yeah. They’re cool.”

“Knew it! I could tel by the way you dress. I love to blast them as I tool down the road.”

You are a tool, Jack thought.

“Want to try that sometime?”

“Yeah.” She swal owed. “Sure.”

“Great. I’l cal you up sometime and we’l go for a spin.”

He waved and roared off. Weezy watched him go, then grabbed Jack’s arm.

“Did you hear that? Carson Toliver just asked me out.”

“Yeah, to listen to the Sex Pistols—which you hate by the way. Or did you forget?”

“I didn’t forget. They’re awful.”

“Then why’d you tel him they were cool?”

“I couldn’t insult him.”

“If you ask me, he’s fol owing you.”

“Don’t be sil y. He lives right on this street.” She beamed. “And he thinks I’m pretty.”