The Secret of the Stones (26 page)

Symbol
by symbol, the two analyzed each figure until most of them had been appointed
to a native caste.
 
When finished,
they gave each other a look of satisfaction.
 

“Not
bad, Mac.
 
Not too bad.”
 
Sean slapped his friend on the back.

Smiling,
Joe responded, “Yeah, but that’s only half of the puzzle.
 
None of it makes sense unless we know
where all of these people lived.
 
We identified who dwelled there but this settlement could literally be
anywhere.”

The
mood that had, for a moment, been upbeat turned sour again.
 

Again,
silence took over the group as they stared at the screen, understanding part of
what they were looking at, but not enough to know where to go next.

Allyson
broke the hush after a few minutes of thought.
 
Her arm extended out as she pointed at something on the
screen.
 
“What does that symbol
mean?”

Sean
and Joe looked as her finger indicated a drawing that looked like a circle
within a circle on one of the rocks.
 

“The
two circles?” She clarified.
 
“What
did they use that for?”

The
two men looked at each other, uncertain.
 
It was one of the few things left on the screen that they could not
decipher.
 

“Because,”
she went on, “to me it looks like something you would see on a map, like a city
marker, or maybe even a state capital.
 
Did the Indians use anything like that back then?”

Both
guys stared at the screen in disbelief.
 
“Unbelievable,” they said in tandem.
 

“Of
course,” Joe said exuberantly.
 
“All this time it was right here in front of us.
 
I can’t believe we missed that.”

Sean’s
face also lit up.
 
He grabbed the
mouse and started moving some of the photos around.

Allyson
was lost again.
 
“Hello?
 
Are you going to tell me what’s going
on?”

“Pretty
sure you figured out the solution,” Joe answered with a grin.

“I
did?”

“Yeah,”
Sean added moving the picture of the double circle to the middle of the
screen.
 
“The answer was so simple
all along.
 
I don’t know how so
many people could have missed it for such a long time.”

“Missed
what?” She was becoming irritated.

“The
capital of the Cherokee Nation,” Joe finally gave her an answer.

“The
Cherokee Nation?”

“Mmm
hmm,” Sean hummed, as he arranged some of the pictures around the
centerpiece.
 
“The Cherokee
Nation’s capital was located in a place called Red Clay.
 
It was considered a sacred land and was
the site where their government council met to decide on important issues.”

Allyson
raised an eyebrow.
 
“Government
council?
 
You mean, like a democracy?
 
I thought their chiefs made the
decisions.”

“Of
course, they did.
 
But they acted
more like our President when it came to the manner in which their government
operated.”
 
Sean stopped moving
around the pictures.
 
Waving a
finger at the screen, he went on.
 
“The capital was the center of their society.
 
Around it were located the homes and workplaces of the
citizens.
 
Their organizational
methods were simple, but very effective.
 
I’m not certain about the order or the exact places where their castes
were located, but, usually, the religious and political leaders of the tribe
were located closest to the center.
 
Then, it appears that they spiraled out, working through the community
of medicine men, warriors, farmers, hunters, etc.”

“So
this is the place that we are going next?”

Looking
at each other, the two men responded with a nod.
 

“It
would seem so,” Sean replied.
 

“And
what are we looking for when we get there?”

A
look of concern crept back onto the thirty something year old face.
 
“I have no idea.
 
We’ll try to figure that out when we
get there.”

She
looked at Joe, but he responded with a questioning shrug, arms flung out to his
side.
 

“So
we’re going to drive to this place and hope that the next clue will just jump
out at us?”
 

“We
don’t really have a choice,” Sean affirmed.
 
Then he added, “But it seems to be working so far.”
 
His boyish smile was contagious.
 
“Of course, you don’t have to go with
us…”

She
gave them both a chastising look, “Are you freakin’ kidding me?
 
Sorry, boys, but, like I said at Joe’s
place, you’re stuck with me.”

“No
use in trying to get rid of her at this point, Sean.”
 
Joe shrugged again.
 

He
knew his friend was right.
 
And,
after all, she had actually been helpful a couple of times so far.
 
Inside, though, old feelings crept into
his mind.
 
Over the past few days,
he had found himself glancing at her when she wasn’t looking.
 
There was certainly an attraction
there, but he kept reminding himself not to allow such thoughts.
 
Those kinds of things were what got his
heart ripped out so many years before.
 
For a moment, he forgot he was standing in the library of a small
mountain town in Georgia and he was back in college, lying on the grass near
the promenade of his university.
 
Laughter filled his ears as visions of someone he’d not seen in a long
time scorched his mind’s eye.

“Sean?”
Joe interrupted the flashback.
 
“You okay?”

“Yeah.
 
Sorry.
 
Just trying to piece things together.”

“We
should probably get going.
 
Red
Clay’s another hour from here at least.
 
We’ll need to get there to see what they have in the museum, maybe talk
to the ranger there to see if they can give us any information that might
help.”

Sean
nodded, agreeing to the plan.
 
He
detached the camera from the computer and returned the borrowed cord to the
pleasant lady behind the desk.
 
“Thanks again for your help,” he offered as they walked through the
metal detectors.

The
librarian simply smiled as she wound the cable back to its original circle
shape.
 
“You’re very welcome.”
 

As
the three made their way back out the large doors and down the steps of the
brick building Sean spoke up. “Allyson, you never said why Axis was so
interested in all of this.”

“That’s
right,” her face was stoic.
 
“I
didn’t.”
 

She
didn’t offer anything else as she climbed into the front seat of the truck.

All
he could do was shake his head with a smirk while he walked around to the back
door.

Chapter
42

Southeastern
Tennessee/Northwest Georgia

It
had only taken the black Hummer fifty minutes to make the drive through the
rolling hills and farms to Red Clay State Park.
 
The ancient Native grounds were located in a very rural area
near the Georgia/Tennessee border.
 
Replicas of one room log cabins, barns, and meeting halls dotted the
meadows surrounded by the sacred woods.
 

Tommy
had barely noticed the incredible display of fall colors during the
journey.
 
His mind had been busy
considering when his luck would turn on him.
 
So far, things had gone his way.
 
He couldn’t help but feel a sense of doom, though.
 
It was encouraging that Sean was on the
trail, but how would Sean know how to decipher the code on the boulders?
 

Ulrich
guided the giant SUV into an empty place right outside of the park’s
museum.
 
Two other cars sat idly by
to the right.
 
The museum was designed
to keep with the country-rustic aesthetic of the area. Wooden beams angled up
from exterior trusses and brown paint covered the natural paint siding of the
entire building. It was capped with a cedar shingled roof.
 
A large deck was situated on the entire
front of the building and wrapped around the right side.
 
On the lengthy porch, old-fashioned
rocking chairs silently rested, unoccupied.

Crows
loudly bellowed from some high branches overhanging a picnic area, while four
college aged people were carelessly throwing a Frisbee in a field nearby.
 
The crisp air was filled with the aroma
from a tall stand of pine trees behind the museum.

“What
now?” Ulrich inquired as the four men simultaneously set foot on the ground
exiting the vehicle.

Tommy
nodded his head in the direction of the museum.
 
“I guess we should check in there.
 
They will have a bunch of information about the area.
 
Maybe we’ll find something.”

The
group casually walked up the front steps toward the building.
 
Upon entering, they were greeted with
what Tommy considered to be a pleasantly familiar smell.
 
Museums of differing types always
seemed to have a similar, unique odor.
 
It was only natural for Schultz to associate the scent he was now
inhaling with the vision of ancient relics, pottery, weapons, or ordinary daily
devices and utensils that people thousands of years ago would have taken for
granted.
 

Behind
the welcome desk, a man with reddish-tan skin and long black hair stood in a
tan, short-sleeve, button up shirt and green, park ranger pants.
 
He was busily typing on a computer that
sat on top of the information counter.
 
The nametag on his shirt read, “Cooper.”
 
His job must have gotten boring.
 

Tommy
figured the ranger could complete a round of solitaire in record time by now.
 
The guy was probably not used to
visitors during the week that were not part of a school group or some kind of
educational tour.

“Can
I help you?”
 
The man asked, as he
stopped whatever he was doing and turned his attention to the four men, smiling
with bright, white teeth.

Jens
gave Tommy a nudge forward.
 
Clearing his throat, Schultz tried not to act like a hostage.
 
“Yes,” he began, “I was just showing
some of my friends around the area.
 
They’re not from around here,” he continued, pointing at the other three
who looked at each other confusedly.
 
“I thought it would be cool to show them a little bit about some of the
local history.”

The
dark-skinned ranger looked pleased, “Well, you’ve come to the right place.
 
Feel free to take a look around our
museum, just through those doors there.
 
You can find all kinds of information about our rich past as well as
many artifacts that have been discovered through the years, right here on the
property.”
 
Then he added, “If you
would like, we have a twenty minute video that will be showing in a few
minutes.”

Why
would they have a movie at set times if there was no one there to watch
it?
 
Tommy didn’t ask the
question.
 
The guy was obviously
eager to share information with someone who didn’t arrive on a yellow bus.
 

“Thanks.
 
We’ll just take a look around for a few
minutes and maybe walk through the park.”

“Alright.
 
Just let me know if you need anything
or have any questions.”
 
Satisfied
he’d done his job, the ranger went back to whatever he was previously doing on
the computer.

Tommy
nodded in appreciation and led the two flat tops and Ulrich through the large
double doors into a small museum area.
 
Once inside, they were greeted by six foot high placards with pictures
of Native Americans in full head dress.
 
Smaller pictures with name plates and brief descriptions dotted the
walls.
 
Frames displaying Indians
playing an ancient form of lacrosse were paired with some actual balls and
sticks that had been used hundreds of years ago.
 

The
“museum” was more like a large single room that had been divided by an
artificial wall.
 
Maybe the park
thought it would seem bigger if it were split into two areas instead of just
one.
 
Display cases were propped
around on the floor showing a variety of old artifacts.
 
Eating utensils, scissors, small bowls,
sewing needles, and several other items of interest were presented in the first
little spot.
 

As
the group made their way around the room, they found containers displaying
arrows and spearheads made from flint.
 
Bows, arrows, rifles, pistols, and various other weapons were displayed
on the walls behind these glass boxes.
 
A few rusty knives hung, precariously, next to a picture of a sallow
eyed Native in what looked like a suit a lawyer may have worn in the
1800s.
 
The name under the picture
read “James Vann.”

Tommy
smiled and let out a snorted laugh when he saw this.
 

The
men guarding him must not have noticed or even cared about their prisoner’s
private thought.

Ulrich
interrupted the moment.
 
“What are
we looking for?” He said in a direct tone.

Tommy
cast him a “buzz off” glance.
 
“We’re just looking at this point.
 
Red Clay was one of the most important spots in the Cherokee Nation.
 
Logic would suggest that if the
chambers exist, there is probably something that links to them here.”

The
answer to his comment was the feeling of a gun shoved into his left
kidney.
 
“I would suggest, Mr.
Schultz, that you look faster.
 
Time is of the essence.”

Shivers
went through his body, but Tommy remained calm.
 
“Take it easy,” he replied and took a few steps toward a
large standup of John Ross.
 
The
story of Ross’s life played out next to the image.
 
It was a tale that Schultz knew well.
 

John
Ross had been the primary leader of the Cherokee Nation before it was dissolved
and moved to Oklahoma.
 
He and many
white members of the United States government had fought the removal of the
Indians from their ancient lands for years before succumbing to a betrayal by a
minority group acting on the Cherokee’s behalf.
 

Along
the causeway, the images of other great Cherokee leaders hung from the
walls.
 
More display cases
contained what seemed to be random works of art:
 
drawings, paintings, cups, and other pottery.

Both
the guards had a lost look on their faces.
 
Tommy was unsure whether apathy or incomprehension caused
the blank look on his captors’ faces, but he didn’t really care either
way.
 
His eyes wandered the room,
scanning all the frames, hoping that whatever it was he was looking for would
pop out like one of those 3-D pictures that were so popular in the late
90s.
 

After
a few minutes of searching, he finally saw it.
 
In the shadows by the exit doors, a small glass case stood
alone on a pedestal with a single flood light shining onto it at an angle.
 
In a few long strides, Tommy was
standing in front of the exhibit.
 
Wonder filled his eyes as he ran his fingers along the edge of the glass
next to the “do not touch” sign.

The
men watching him were momentarily alarmed at how quickly Schultz had moved
toward the exit, but when he stopped in the corner, they re-holstered the
pistols drawn a second before.

Mesmerized
by the exhibit resting in front of them, the four men stared into the
case.
 
Within its confines, a piece
of clay pottery about the size of a typical flower vase, sat inconspicuously in
the pale light.

Tommy
squatted down to get a closer look at the jar.
 
It looked more like it had come from an ancient Greek
society than a Native American one.
 
Fluid snakelike carvings decorated the front of the clay container in
shapes that crisscrossed like an elaborate pretzel.
 
As he scooted around to the back of the display stand, he
beheld an image of two birds, almost identical to the ones on the stone disc he
had discovered.
 

“This
is it,” he whispered.

Jens
appeared unimpressed.
 
“What does it
mean?”

Tommy
had grown tired of these under educated men.
 
Nothing annoyed him more than ignorant treasure hunters who
only searched because of the fame and money antiquities might bring.

He
rose from his squatting position and sighed, “This is actually a very rare
piece of history.
 
As far as I
know, only two of these have ever been discovered.
 
One of them was found fifty or so years ago and is called
‘Vessel Number One.’
 
Until now, I
have never actually seen one that resembled anything close to that vase.”

“And
how is this clay jar going to help us?”
 
Ulrich looked bewildered.

Tommy
pointed to the front first.
 
“You
see, the first vessel that was found had almost identical snakelike
drawings.
 
But it did not have the
bird designs on the back, like this one.”
 
He motioned at the carvings on the rear side of the pot.

Clearly,
the three men still had no idea where he was going with this.
 

“The
stone that I found in Chatsworth had the exact same birds carved into it.
 
Don’t you see?”
 
His voice pleaded while his hands
extended outward.
 
“This means we
are on the right track.
 
The fact
that this vase and the medallion have the same designs means the clues are
related!”
 
Tommy was ecstatic about
the discovery.

“So,
what do we do?
 
Take the
vase?”
 
Ulrich took a step closer
to the glass case, removing the gun from his jacket.

“No,
no, no!
 
Hold on a second,” Tommy
got in his way and put his hands up to hold the blonde man back, a move his
captor did not seem to appreciate as evidenced by the warning scowl on his
face.
 
Backing off a foot, he
continued cautiously, “Look.
 
We
don’t need to take it.
 
Just give
me a minute.”
 
Ulrich re-holstered
his weapon, seemingly willing to wait and see what the archaeologist was going
to do next.

Tommy
took a step back away from the exhibit and looked around.
 
Immediately, he noticed that there was
no history placard or name plate identifying where the pottery had come from or
why it was there.
 
He retraced
their steps through the corridor looking to see if there was anything that
contained information about the vessel, but he found nothing.
 

Finally,
he said, “I need to get the guy from the information desk in here.”
 

Ulrich
looked at him suspiciously, deliberating over the request.
 
Then, he nodded his approval.
 

Tommy
strode back over to the giant exit doors and gently pushed one of them
open.
 
The hinges obviously needed
some kind of lubricant as the portal creaked loudly.
 
He poked his head out and noticed the park ranger looking
directly at him.
 
The squeaking
must have gotten the man’s attention.