Darren Wearmouth: Critical Dawn

“Seriously. Come see this,” Pippa said.

Charlie wheeled his chair across and looked at the monitor. It displayed a high-resolution photograph of site two from the Wildlife Refuge. A deep, square trench had been cut into the ground, surrounded by a taped safety cordon and a selection of digging tools.

“You were right, Charlie. We found burials at the second site. A little deeper than expected,” Pippa said.

“How many?”

She clicked to the next picture, saved as “Eight skeletons.”

Three sets of bones were fully exposed on the right-hand side. The rest poked through the dirt like pieces of nut in a large chocolate brownie.

“These were all laid out next to each other, arms by their sides. We couldn’t find any traces of coffin nails…”

“Christian burials?” Charlie said.

“They aren’t aligned east-west. But that doesn’t mean they’re not Christian.”

“Is it some sort of mass grave?” Mike said. “If they were just placed like that?”

“Of those three,” Pippa said, pointing her pen at the monitor, “we couldn’t find any immediate signs of injury on the bones, or arrowheads or musket balls. They’re going to be taken away for analysis.”

“Are they sixteenth-century?” Charlie said.

“We found ceramic pieces and a decorative ring in the layer above, possibly from the sixteenth century. We’re carbon dating skeleton number one and should know in a couple of days.”

“Makes sense they’re below the finds. Being buried,” Mike said.

“Nothing with the bodies? No buckles? Leather…” Charlie said.

Pippa shook her head. “Nope. This is the part where it started to get weird.”

She clicked on the next photo, showing a close-up of a scapula bone. Below it, a dirty blue bead rested on the dirt. “We found one of these around the shoulder area of each of the three fully excavated skeletons.”

Mike frowned. “Grave goods? Do you think they’re from the Chowanoke tribe?”

“We’ll probably have a clearer picture after the tooth isotope analysis. Our hunch is that they’re European. Carbon dating will be the key,” Pippa said.

The next picture showed a cleaned blue bead, broken in two, sitting in a finds tray. It had a smooth, shiny quality.

“We x-rayed the bead to try and see the elemental composition in order to establish the production process and origin—”

“I thought you said you’d blow Charlie’s mind?” Mike said.

“I’m just building the picture. Here’s the first x-ray. Can you see the small rust marks running through the internal lattice toward that space in the middle?”

“That’s pretty intricate,” Mike said. “The local tribe didn’t use any metals that rusted. Must be European.”

“We couldn’t identify the row or trace elements of the glass to anything we’ve seen before.”

“Seriously? Have you sent it away for further analysis?” Mike said.

“Not yet. Just wait a minute.”

Pippa clicked to the next picture. “The next skeleton’s bead was intact.”

She sat back. Charlie and Mike leaned forward.

The intricate internal lattice had dark lines running through the channels like circuitry. In the center of the bead was what appeared to be a rectangular microchip.

Charlie scratched his head. “What the hell is that?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mike said.

“Trust me, I’m not. These things were found in situ, below undisturbed earth.”

“Oh Christ, we haven’t stumbled on a modern murderer’s—” Charlie said.

“Didn’t you just hear me? The ground above was undisturbed , with finds from the sixteenth century above. If we carbon date the skeletons to that time…”

“This has to be a hoax,” Mike said. “It’s the only explanation.”

“I’ve been racking my brains all the way here. I thought about one of the team planting it, but I was there when these things were uncovered.”

Charlie sat back and puffed his cheeks. “Beats me. Where’s the bead now?”

Pippa reached into the front pouch of her laptop case and pulled out a small plastic bag. She produced a bead and passed it to Mike. “Be careful with it.”

He held it toward the strip light on the ceiling, rolling it between his fingers. “Holy… We need to get to work on this.”

Mike passed the bead to Charlie and wheeled away to his laptop.

Charlie’s first impression was the weight: a lot heavier than he expected. He switched on his desk lamp and held the bead underneath in the palm of his hand, ducking to get a side profile of the object.

Dark, formal lines with an angled shape in the middle. Unbelievable.

“Seen anything like this before?” Charlie said.

“I called a few of my contacts. Janet from England reckons she’s seen something similar to our broken one,” Pippa said.

“Really? Like this thing?” Mike said.

“Where did they find it?” Charlie asked.

“Cheddar Gorge. In two pieces. No body. They bagged it up as unidentified.”

She flipped to her emails and opened one from a team member at the Roanoke dig site. Charlie sat back in his chair trying to think of a logical explanation. The problem was, one didn’t exist based on the evidence. He looked over to Mike, who was furiously typing.

“Blue beads found near the shoulders of skeletons four and five,” Pippa said.

She spun her seat toward Charlie. “I think we need to start thinking outside the box on this one. Preferably in the bar. You two coming for a couple of cold ones? It’s been a long day, and I need something to take the edge off.”

“I’m calling my techy guy, see if he’s ever seen anything like it,” Mike said from behind her. “This could change the whole way we view history. I’ll stick around here for a few more hours, but you two go ahead.”

“Surely, you’re not suggesting this is…” Charlie said.

“You’ve seen the Vijayanagara Empire carvings in India, the Nazca lines in Peru, Puma Punka, and the strange ancient cave paintings all over the world,” Pippa said. “This is potential compelling evidence, but we say nothing until we get all the evidence in place.”

Charlie didn’t want to believe it. Yet deep inside, he was left to wonder. Could this be extraterrestrial technology?

“So?” Pippa asked. “You wanna come buy your boss a drink and posit some theories?”

Ordinarily, he’d jump at the chance to spend some social time with her. Despite working closely together, and despite renting a room in her apartment, they rarely got to see much of each other with Pippa whisking off around the country doing deals with media execs and the like while Charlie kept Mike and the other crew company in the office.

And of course, there was the climbing weekend.

He’d been planning it for months with three of his old college pals. Every few months, they’d take off on some adventure, whether it was caving, scuba diving, mountain climbing, or his favorite activity: finding a big old forest to explore and surviving for a few days off the land.

Before he could even say it, Pippa gave him “the look.” A special pout she had developed that would hit at Charlie’s heart. “You’ve got other plans, G.I. Joe? What are you doing this weekend then? Paragliding with endangered falcons into the caldera of a live volcano?”

“Hah, not quite, Pip, but that does sound epic. Let’s do that in the summer. I’ve got a climb planned with the guys. I’m designated driver, so I can’t really let them down. I need to take off tonight.”

“Well, your loss, G.I. But you know where to find me if you change your mind.” She gave him a quick smile and returned to her desk, packing up her files for an evening of analysis in their favorite haunt: a small, old-timey bar called The Rusted Shovel, the coincidence of which was never lost on Charlie.