Tom Pawlik - Beckon

His thoughts drew back to the mysterious amulet. It had been the confirmation he’d been looking for, the evidence he had come all this way to find, and now it lay under a mountain of rock. Forever out of reach. He could have validated his father’s theories, but now he was leaving empty-handed with so many questions unanswered. He still didn’t know what the symbols meant, and now he feared he never would.

But even worse than that was what he had lost along the way. He’d come through his nightmare having left his best friend back in those caves.

It wasn’t until the sun was directly above them that they finally reached Beckon once more. They walked through the middle of town, where everything seemed as quiet and as still as death.

They came to the old Saddleback Diner and peeked in the windows, but no one was around. Then they crossed the street to Dwight Henderson’s office and went inside. The place was cluttered and musty, and Jack made his way down the hall to the back room.

The door was locked, but after a few attempts, Jack managed to kick it open. Inside stood an antique desk, a couple chairs, and some file cabinets. In the corner was a door to the supply closet that was stacked full of boxes.

Jack inspected the boxes as he pulled them out. Each one was packed with notebooks. He shuffled through the top box and grabbed one of the books. “Looks like Dwight had been keeping quite a few journals.”

Elina peered over his shoulder for a better view. “What do they say?”

“Whoa.” Jack tapped the cover. “Look at the date on this one.”

Elina took the book and frowned as she scanned the pages. “Nineteen forty-seven ?”

Jack opened a second box and pulled out another leather-bound journal. “Nineteen twenty-one.”

“These can’t all be his,” Elina said.

But Jack was busy digging through another box. “He must have wanted me to find them.”

Elina began searching through the boxes as well. A moment later she pulled out a folder and showed it to Jack. Inside was a photograph. A very old photograph. In the picture, Dwight stood in front of what looked like a saloon. He was wearing a striped shirt with a vest and a bow tie. Beside him was an attractive Hispanic woman. And next to them stood Frank Carson and Malcolm Browne. The sign behind them read, The Saddleback .

Elina stared at Jack. “This can’t be for real… can it?”

Jack shrugged. “He told me perilium not only enhances the body’s immune system but also slows down or even reverses the aging process.”

Elina gestured to all the boxes on the floor. “Well, these dates would mean that Dwight was more than a hundred years old.”

“At least,” Jack said. His gaze beat a trail around the room. “I wonder how old the others were. For that matter, how old were those N’watu in the cave? They might have been down there for hundreds of years.”

The thought was staggering to Jack. He shuddered when he considered the implications of such a miracle drug. And the cost for the people trapped in this town by it. No wonder Vale went to such lengths to protect his secret.

Elina lifted out another leather-bound journal, this one tattered, its pages yellowed and stained. She thumbed through the brittle pages. Coming to one passage in particular, she stopped and read the words aloud.

“I am finding that my great distaste for these activities has waned of late, as well as for Mr. Vale and that godforsaken town. Regardless of my part in the matter, I can no longer pity those souls I have sent to their destruction. I no longer have the room left in my heart for it, for I am driven too deeply by love for my dearest Julia and I am ever compelled to save her. I will not lose her. My soul be cursed, I will not lose her.”

She paused before reading the date. “October 11… 1899.”

They looked at each other in silence. After a moment Elina said, “I wonder if he found it again. His conscience, I mean.”

Jack had found a bitter reflection in Dwight Henderson’s words, echoed by the stinging indictment he had received from Thomas Vale. He’d been driven here by his obsession to solve his father’s mystery. And more than that, to validate his father’s theories and perhaps thereby gain some of that legacy for himself. But at what expense? Jack wondered now if he had lost a portion of his own conscience somewhere along the way, buried deep beneath his ambitions.

Alongside the bones of his friend.

But more importantly, would he ever find it again?

He looked back at Elina and gave a faint smile. “I think maybe he did.”

Then a thought struck him. “Wait a minute.” He began to dig furiously through the boxes, searching the dates until he located the right one. He looked up at Elina. “Twelve years ago.”

Elina’s eyebrows went up. “You think there’s something about your dad in there?”

Jack flipped through the notebook, his hands nearly trembling, following the dates until he discovered the one he was looking for. Part of him hoped he would find something—some clue or mention to help him gain closure. To know at last what had happened. But part of him hoped he wouldn’t.

Then Jack froze as his eyes fell across his father’s name. His heart was beating so fast he could barely read it.

“He was here,” Jack said. “Vale lied to me.”

“Of course he lied,” Elina said. “He wanted to keep his little operation here a secret.”

Jack scanned the pages. They had indeed captured his father. He had come upon the town and was asking questions. Asking for directions to the nearby Caieche reservation. Not suspecting a thing.

Jack fought back his emotions. “He… he never even made it to the reservation.”

He read further as Dwight detailed how they had held his father captive in Vale’s compound on the hill. Vale had hoped to utilize his knowledge to study the N’watu for his own advantage. Vale was, after all, a prisoner of the lost tribe like everyone else. And he was searching desperately for some clue to the secret of the perilium. A way to concoct it for himself. They held Jack’s father there for several months, giving him limited access to part of the caves and allowing him to study the tribe at some length. Even to meet Nun’dahbi herself. No doubt his father had seen the woman’s amulet even as Jack had. The artifact that appeared to have been so important in his father’s other notes. Jack read until he came to a section that sent chills down his back.

One day his father had attempted an escape and fled into the woods. Dwight detailed how Carson and the others had tracked him down. They used dogs and hunted him. Cornered him like an animal. But his father was not going to give up easily. There was a struggle, and…

And shots were fired.

Carson acknowledged that Kendrick had left him little choice. In the end, the man was simply not willing to cooperate, and while his elimination was regrettable, he was too great a risk to keep alive any longer. And Vale has never been one to risk much.

Jack stared at the words on the page. The account had been written with such clinical detachment. Almost as if they had put down a rabid dog and not a human being.

He wept as Dwight described how they had hauled his father’s dead body into the cave to be fed to the kiracs.

But there was something else.

Dwight also indicated that he had retained the research journal Jack’s father had kept in hopes of eventually finding something useful. He wrote that he had hidden it under the floorboards inside the closet.

Jack went back to the closet and knelt down to inspect the floor. One of the boards was indeed loose and rattled beneath Jack’s hand.

His heart was pounding as he pried it up, surging with the same emotions he’d felt when he first discovered the hidden compartment in his father’s desk.