The Ancients

Old Friends

It was an older neighborhood in the city sitting at the leading edge of Rio de La Plata and the Atlantic Ocean. Montevideo faced the vast expanse of ocean and within its limits a lively city of many old customs and new trends. The neighborhood had buildings a hundred years old and older and for a long time they were allowed to deteriorate. But times and the fortunes of growth and man’s desire for something beautiful, the old buildings were finding a second life.

On one of many blocks, in a three-story building that sat on a corner, the building had a bar and café on the ground floor, opening it up to the street. It gave the corner a lively atmosphere during the late afternoons and night, patrons crowding the sidewalk and interiors until late into the A.M. hours. Above these, on the upper two floors was one resident. It had balconies on the main road and along the side street, large windows evenly spaced along its length opening the interior up to the street. It was one of many residences for its owners, but it was their favorite.

It was an early morning hour, most people still in bed sleeping off the revelry of the night before, when a 1964 Lincoln Continental pulled to the curb. It was a big, slab sided black convertible with a white leather interior. The driver stepped out and approached the door positioned between the entries for the café and bar. He moved to the side and waited, knowing it would not be long. It was never a long wait for they always seemed to know when he would arrive. The door swung open, and a tall young man stepped out, followed by one shorter with a more muscular body. He looked at them always amazed at how they seemed not to age. He had been with them for five years and there seemed to be no change in the appearance of either one.

Carlos took the keys while Alejandro put their bags in the back seat.

"Franco, it will be some time before we get back,” said Carlos.

“One of us will let you know when we expect to arrive,” added Alejandro.

“Yes, sir. Is everything arranged in New York for your arrival or is there something I need to do?” asked Franco.

“I think we have everything taken care of on that end. Tell Paola hello. The baby is due in two months, right?” asked Alejandro.

“Yes sir, a girl.”

“Congratulations, Franco,” said Carlos going around the front of the Continental.

“Thank you, sir.”

“We have a little something being delivered this afternoon, so get the apartment squared away and get home,” said Alejandro as he climbed in next to Carlos.

Franco watched the big convertible ease away and drive down the road, turning right a couple of blocks away. He pulled out his cellphone, brought up a contact, and hit send.

“They are on their way. Is the plane ready?”

Franco went through the door and up the stair to a foyer. It was a simple space that gave no indication of what lay within. He pushed the door open and stepped into a grand foyer two stories in height that ran down the middle of the apartment. A skylight ran overhead for its full length, the translucent panels allowing only a filtered light into the space. He stood in awe for a few seconds, for even after five years the place was shocking to behold. On plinths along each side were statues and ancient stone tablets and parts of building reliefs. Along the wall to the right positioned between the sliding doors to each room were paintings. There was one that made him think of Michelangelo, but knew it wasn’t possible the painting was an original. But the next was by Artemisia Gentileschi. He had looked it up. Across from it was one by JMW Turner, another he had looked up shocked at its value. Along the walls were others by artist just as famous. Cezanne, Monet, Picasso, and others that made the collection worth unspeakable sums. How two young men, despite their great wealth could acquire such a collection he had no idea.

Franco went through the first set of double doors to the right into the main living room. It was positioned at the front corner of the residence facing both streets. He checked the French doors and windows, circling around the large white leather sofa and armchairs in a deep red leather, and moved toward the rear of the residence checking windows. Through the dining room, the pantry, then the kitchen, one he often found Alejandro at the range and Carlos at the island cutting up vegetables. He moved through the other rooms, guest suites at the back of the house, rooms that were rarely used, and along the side against the adjacent building, he moved down the corridor that ran parallel to the grand foyer until he came to the master suite at the front of the residence. He closed the French Doors that were left open, locking them, then headed out.

On the sidewalk, Franco headed to the small parking garage on the next block where he had parked. He called home, telling Paola he was leaving early and would be there soon, to plan on lunch at Florencia’s. He smiled at his good fortune, pushing aside once again the questions that haunted him whenever he was around Alejandro and Carlos.

The black Continental pulled into a drive entrance at the airport where a guard waved them through. Carlos drove around the hangers, past commercial operations, and a few privately owned hangers where some of the rich shared in the expense of a jet or prop plane, down to a nondescript white hanger. The doors were up and parked in front was a Gulfstream G700. It was white and silver with black accents, and in the sunlight, it shined brightly.

Carlos pulled the Continental into the hanger. Two men came to the car taking out their bags and another came to Carlos who took the keys, knowing he was to raise the top and lock up the car.

Carlos followed Alejandro out to the jet, climbing the steps and taking their normal seats. Within a few minutes they were taxiing to the runway.

“I still can’t get use to Alejandro, and I’ve used it how long now?”

“Ninety-three…no, ninety-four years. These Spanish derived names seem such a corruption of our old names,” Caral replied.

“Do you remember our old language?”

“Some, but I seem to forget more and more over the last few centuries.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter. No one alive speaks it.”

Caral considered what Aroteh had said. He was right for all the old languages of the Americas were gone. There were some corruptions of them still in existence, but none of the originals. He glanced over at Aroteh who was looking at his cellphone and thought of their lives. They have lived for over eighteen hundred years, taken on many aliases, and resided in places all over the world. He wondered about the old temple site in China, and how sometime in the early 1500’s an earthquake destroyed the complex, sending most of it as rubble into the valley floor. The only good thing was the chambers were sealed shut and had not been disturbed since. Aroteh had gone in, finding both chambers intact.

Caral felt the plane level off as it came to cruising altitude, heading north to New York. They moved every ten years or so, for it would become obvious they did not appear to age. He knew they did so, for he saw a slight change to their skin around the eyes and he had noticed a few decades ago he had slowly filled out, no longer so lean in build. It required them to have places at the ready, but long ago they realized there was no need to hide. They lived openly, in urban and rural environments, blending in with the society of each location. There was the residence in Beijing, two floors of an apartment building, and another in the rural countryside outside Changsha. And in the same region of the world, a place in Tokyo and Singapore, and to the east, Wellington, New Zealand. In Europe they resided in Paris or Amsterdam, and to the south in Africa, Essaouira, Morocco. Back in what everyone calls the West, there is the small place on the island of Dominica, and places in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico and Montreal, Canada, and New Orleans in the state of Louisiana. And, of course, Montevideo and New York. All were places they could blend in, become a part of the population with ease. They had learned the different languages, only needing to brush up on changes or additions to the vocabulary. Caral often considered getting a place in Bolivia near the ruins of the city of his home growing up, or further north in Peru, possibly Cajamarca or Tarapoto, but every time he brought it up, Aroteh would appear on the verge of tears. It had pained both to see what happened with the men of Spain and Portugal came to their world. The slaughter and spread of disease, then the indoctrination into their foolish religions. It tore at Aroteh, brought him to near tears to think of it. For Caral, it made his blood boil. But they knew from old warnings from Uaica, that any interference would have repercussions they could not imagine.

“Caral?” asked Aroteh.

“Yes?”

“It’s been so long and there has not been anything for us to do. Do you think Uaica could have been wrong?”

“No,” Caral replied. “Maybe we just haven’t arrived at the correct time yet.”

“I keep trying to sense him, but I get nothing. I think he’s gone.”

“I don’t believe that,” Caral replied, turning to the window to look out at the blue sky and the clouds floating below them.

“I wish I had your confidence.”

“I may just be foolish.”

“No, its good you hold out hope. One of us needs to do so.”

“You have that novel with you? The one you recommended I read.”

“Yes.”

“Dig it out. I have time to get into it before we land.”

Aroteh wondered about using his power to travel but knew suddenly showing up in one city when they were just in another far away would pose problems. The world had changed a lot in the last hundred years, and with the technology of cameras, cellphones, and even the internet with its social media sites, it could be far too easy to be discovered. He also knew Caral liked the travel time, considering it a time to read and rest before reaching their destination.

He looked out the window. He saw the visible world, the earth curving away from them and the air he knew was just a thin layer covering the ground. He had gone out into space, once all the way to the moon, opening the folded space until he could perceive his surroundings and knew the black void was a cold hostile environment. Caral didn’t know about his adventures, the first time when the Russians had put the first man into orbit. He had watched the capsule’s return into the atmosphere marveling at how such a crude thing could accomplish such a feat. It was still strange to him, this dimension of space unseen to the naked eye. He had read the latest theories, knowing how so close to the truth the scientists were getting. He followed Sean Carroll at Caltech, often tempted to take him through another dimension. He smiled at the idea of it, how it would shock Carroll no matter how firmly he believed his equations.

“What’s so funny?” asked Caral.

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about space,” Aroteh replied, looking back at Caral.

“You mean that spooky space you move through.”

“Yes,” Aroteh whispered in reply as he looked out the window again.

Resurrection

The Russian crew were drilling down nearly a mile for core samples. They had done a few in the region picking different drill sites based on sonar analysis. The site they chose this time was an anomaly, the ice appeared to be layered differently, and the surface was concave nearly a half mile wide as if something collapsed the ice long ago. The core samples brought up to date showed an ice of a much newer age, dating that seemed impossible to the scientists.

“It’s like a huge crater formed in the ice about two thousand years ago, then it refilled with fresh ice and snow,” one scientist said to the room as he pointed at some readouts in their analysis.

“I agree. Look at this core sample. This ice formed from packed snow but this level starting here is like it was water at one point,” said another.

“That’s impossible,” said one of the older scientists, unable to accept what he was seeing with his own eyes.

“How far down are we going?” asked the first scientist.

“We were going to stop at twelve hundred meters, but with this layer here, I’ve asked the crew to go down another two hundred fifty meters,” said the second scientist.

Outside the crew labored at the drilling machine, made more difficult by the bitter cold. The sky was clear and there was no wind, but the impression of a mild temperate day was an illusion. It was minus twenty degrees Celsius. But the crew were growing excited for they had the last section loaded and would soon reach the depth requested. The drill sank deeper and deeper until the drill was stopped. Then the process of pulling up the last core samples began.

Down within the ice, over fourteen hundred meters from the surface the drill had came within millimeters of hitting the blacked form within the ice. As it pulled upward, the final layer broke and cold air filtered to the hardened figure. It was a small gap, just enough to give it hope. The fractured mind woke from its long slumber. It sensed its surroundings but was still blind to it. It focused the images that arose, then remembered a name. Wendigo. Then it remembered it was his name. He grew more aware, then grew agitated, an old anger surfacing. He seethed with it. He absorbed moisture from the ice, took what heat he could abstract from it. It was so little, barely any heat at all. But it was enough, and he drew it in and began the process of healing.

He sensed the drilling continued somewhere close by. He didn’t know the Russians had questioned the data and moved over five hundred meters and began to drill again. But he felt the vibration of the drill sinking into the ice. He pictured humans, their similarity to his kind, then he pictured grilled meat, succulent, tender, and an ability to sate his ravenous appetite.

For days, he healed, grew stronger. Despite his burned flesh, he generated new life into it. His mind became less fractured, his thoughts clearer. Eventually his power began to return, and he accelerated his healing. Senses became acute, and he knew the Russians were reaching the final depths of their drilling. The next day they would pull up and return to the camp.

Generating more and more heat, he felt the ice change to water. Soon the water was warm. He shifted upright and followed the recently drilled hole. Higher and higher he moved, melting the ice as he rose. He still had no hands or feet, just nubs of what remained of his limbs., but he didn’t need either to move. He used his increasing power. When he drew near the surface, he sensed it was dark, no radiation from the sun adding to his growing power. But he began to feel a portion of his oldest power. He broke through the surface and sensed the camper vehicle and the humans inside. He floated to it and descended on the unsuspecting humans, where he sated his need for revenge and his appetite for flesh.

The Long Flight

Aroteh looked over at Caral. The long lean body leaned back in the lounge chair. He still looked in his twenties. Just a young man to Aroteh’s way of thinking, for he too looked young and felt young too. The cabin was quiet, just the white noise of the jet engines pushing them through the air, and Caral appeared to be sleeping.

Aroteh knew without looking at his watch they were about halfway to New York. They had made the journey a few times by flight, the first in the old propeller planes that took so much longer. It was strange when he thought about it, how civilization went through such a rapid progress in the last one hundred years. If not for the Dark Ages and their clinging to such primitive notions he wondered how much further along would progress have been for civilization.

He saw Caral open his eyes, looking out the window. He knows they are so dark brown as to appear black, and he knows they may be looking out at the sky, but the mind is elsewhere. Looking at Caral he feels his desires stir. It is another thing that amazes him. After the centuries that have passed, he still feels a longing and need for the man across the aisle. His heart begun to race as it always does when he thinks of their physical relationship, the lust and desire that reflected their feelings toward each other. It defied the norm, for he knew most people quickly fall into some routine in their relationships and the initial rush of emotions dissipates. But he still felt them. He has wondered if it is their connection through the power, or maybe it was that pool locked away in the mountains on the other side of the world. He didn’t really care what caused it. He was just glad it allowed him to hold on to those emotions that seemed to consume lesser men.

“We still have some time before landing in New York,” said Aroteh.

Caral looked around and smiled. He knew what Aroteh is suggesting.

“You want to fuck?” asked Caral. He used the coarse word whenever he felt playful.

“Yes,” Aroteh replied, climbing to his feet.

Aroteh led Caral to the rear compartment, a private place for the two of them during a flight. Through the door there was a watercloset to the left, and just beyond it, a glassed-in shower. To the right a mini-bar and sink. In the rear of the space, a bed that took up the entire width.

Aroteh moved to the foot of it while removing his clothes. Behind him Caral did the same. Soon, shirts, shoes, socks, pants, and underwear lay scattered on the floor and Aroteh is on the bed lying on his back. Caral crawled on the bed and over him, kissing along the legs, the abdomen, the cock, continuing to move upward. Nipples are manipulated, the neck kissed, then a light nip at the skin. It made Aroteh shiver and push his body upward.

Caral dragged his fingers over the undulating body feeling the smooth skin as it shivered. He felt the bottom of the ribcage, then followed the sternum up the chest. He manipulated one nipple then the other, eventually leaning down and lightly biting it.

Aroteh cried out, grabbing at the bed.

Caral kissed the long neck, tugged on the earlobe, then kissed Aroteh with a passion and desire not diminished by the passage of time.

“Fuck me…fuck me, Caral,” Aroteh whispered, lifting his knees, and spreading them apart. He opened to Caral. He felt the hard cock push at his sac, drag over it then slid alongside his own cock. He reached down and guided it to his tight opening. “Do it,” he uttered.

Caral pushed until he felt the squeeze on his cock, and he kept pushing, sinking it into Aroteh, slowly, gently, until he was pressed against the upturned ass. He held still, feeling the heat of Aroteh’s hole enveloping his cock. Then he tugged outward, then pushed inward, slowly at first, but he increased his pace until working his hips in a fuck. The thrust of cock into the depths of Aroteh’s hole increased his arousal. After centuries, he still felt a want and need he couldn’t begin to grasp. He pushed inward all the way and shivered. He tugged outward until just the head remained inside him, then pushed all the way inward. Over and over, until he was fucking faster, harder.

Caral felt it, the surge of release. He felt hands move over his back and sensed their desperation. Legs wrapped his waist as Aroteh clung to him.

“Caral…do it…do me,” Aroteh uttered breathlessly.

Caral shoved inward all the way and came. He jerked and shuddered with his release, then feel still.

“Keep going,” Aroteh whispered.

Cock still hard, his need not sated, Caral began to fuck. He fucked until his cock was once again achingly hard. He got on his knees and guided Aroteh to do the same. Cock at the wet hole, he pushed back into him and started fucking. His cock moved slickly inside of him, and he piston it with a stamina and an urgency. His muscles flexed hard and sweat beaded up on his skin. Breathing hard, he fucked harder, faster, until his hips smacked against Aroteh’s round ass. He fucked to the point of exhaustion. He pulled Aroteh to his knees and hugged the muscular body against his own as he pushed all the way inward. He took Aroteh in hand, stroking the leaking cock. Aroteh shuddered against him, then pushed back on his cock. Then he felt Aroteh flex in his hand, then jerk and shudder against his chest. He pushed all the way into him as he came. He jammed his hips against the around ass as if he could get deeper and came.

Aroteh fell forward, flat on his stomach. Caral looked at his lover, friend, partner, and he still felt a want for him. He stroked his slick cock, keeping it hard, then he moved over Aroteh.

Aroteh looked over his shoulder, knowing Caral was going to fuck him again. It was normal, their sex continuing to the point of exhaustion, something that took a long time.

“Yes,” Aroteh whispered then held his head down.

Caral watched Aroteh spread his ass cheeks revealing the leaking hole. He smeared his previous loads with his cock, then buried it inside him. He fucked slowly, savoring the feel of it, how his cock moved inside the slick hole. He fucked until his muscles burned with his exertions, then he pulled out and fell on the bed next to Aroteh.

“Aroteh,” Caral uttered.

Aroteh knew what he wanted and moved over him. Soon he was riding him, moving up and down rhythmically. His own cock was hard and leaking and it smacked Caral’s stomach wetly. He fucked until he felt his full arousal. The need to push to the point of release was overpowering, and he leaned back and moved faster. Working his ass up and down, faster and faster. His own cock smacked against his stomach, and he took it in hand. He stroked it while fucking his ass on Caral’s cock. He stroked his own faster and faster, until his hand was a blur. Then cum rained down on his chest and stomach.

Aroteh dropped down, taking Caral all the way, as his own cock continued to flex with his release. Then he slipped over and crawled back between Caral’s legs. He took the slick cock in his mouth and began to suck. He knew Caral was close. The cock jerked against the roof of his mouth, and after a short time, swelled thicker. Then cum dribbled out and he sucked up every drop.

“Sirs, we’re landing in twenty,” radioed the pilot.

Aroteh and Caral walked across the tarmac to the hanger where a 1970 Mercedes-Benz 600 limousine waited. It was dark blue, almost black in appearance. The chauffeur came around to the rear door opening it for them. In most cities they resided, they had cars they liked to drive, but in New York, London, and Tokyo, they had limousines, hating to drive in the congestion that clogged their streets.

As they approached the car, both had a vision, an image come to mind, just a flash of it. With it a feeling of dread, a hatred they had not felt in a very long time. Caral stumbled and Aroteh stopped, squinting as if a severe headache had hit him.

“You feel it too?” asked Caral.

“Yes,” Aroteh replied, trying to focus on the source. He wanted to know its current location, for he knew it no longer resided deep in the ice in Antarctica. “That evil bastard is back.”

“I can’t sense his current location.”

“Me either. He’s blocking us.”

“Let’s get to the apartment.”

“Do you think we can do something about Wendigo?”

“We have to, and this time we have to make sure Wendigo is utterly destroyed.”

A Simmering Hatred

In Thailand near the border with Laos, deep underground, Wendigo lay on a stone slab, one carved for ceremonies two thousand years ago. The cavern had been a temple site, until an earthquake and the changing landscape sealed the cavern from the outside world, that soon forgot its existence.

Wendigo had returned to his original form, but his skin remained black, and no hair grew back. He had changed and felt how his body radiated a heat not of any fire. He struggled to keep his mind calm, an old anger rising far too frequently. It made him mad, and he would pace while plotting and scheming revenge. He knew his enemy, those fools Uaica had the audacity to train then take to that pool. He vowed to find it and destroy it once and for all. Only the notion he may need it one day had kept him from doing so earlier. He focused his mind, searched in the old country for it, but he knew no one resided at its location, hadn’t in a long time. He needed a mind to be there, one he could see through, but the pool was isolated away from the mortals. He sneered, then sat up. He was furious. He felt the heat of his own anger and he stood and began to pace the room. His anger made him careless and for a minute he sought out those fools.  Too late to stop, he found them and realized he had revealed himself.

Wendigo screamed in frustration, then threw a ball of fire across the cavern. It exploded against the cave wall sending rock and dust back into the space. He schemed on how to separate them, for he knew together he could not defeat them. He needed to get the one who could manipulate space and lift an object first. He sensed the one called Caral would be the easier of the two to take down and doing so would be an emotional assault on the one called Aroteh. It would weaken him, make him vulnerable, and he would then take him down. He imagined his satisfaction that would exist once Caral and Aroteh were destroyed. He began to glow, his skin turning red. He eyes turned white. So did his fingernails, growing out longer as they changed. Soon, they were nearly as long as the fingers from which they grew. Shiny, glistening white hot in the dim torch light in the cavern.

A Trap

The Gulfstream G700 landed at Salt Lake City, taxiing to a private hanger. The jet stopped on the tarmac and Caral stepped down from it. He walked across the hot concrete to the vehicle waiting for him. The lime green Jeep was idling, waiting for his arrival. He climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled away. He was alone and focused on the task at hand. Wendigo had come to them, a connection of minds that gave Aroteh and him severe headaches. He had threatened to kill Uaica, to snuff out the last of the life that existed in him. He promised to return Uaica to them if Caral would just come to him. He wanted to talk of a new arrangement between them, one that allowed them to co-exist in a world growing smaller and smaller.

Caral and Aroteh knew it was lies, all of it, but it seemed the only way to come face to face with the devil, as they now considered him. Caral agreed and a place to meet set, Aroteh demanding it be away from any populated areas. So, they were to meet in the Salt Lake Desert, an expanse of salt that is flat and barren.

Caral drove out I-80, driving cautiously while he worked to keep his mind calm and clear. He had to control his thoughts, knowing that was Wendigo’s greatest weapon: reading one’s thoughts. In taking the jet, then driving out to the remote location was all a tactic to make Wendigo wait. He wanted him riled up, his anger and need for revenge to be at its worst.

Around the south end of Great Salt Lake and between the low mountains, he drove out into the harsh landscape of the desert. Exiting the interstate, he followed the frontage road until he came to drive that gave him access to the desert to the south. The Jeep bounced over some rough terrain but easily kept going as he drove out into the desert. Mile after mile until all he could see was the desolate landscape.

Caral stopped, shutting down the Jeep and climbed out. He walked away from the Jeep, eyes focused on the horizon, wondering when Wendigo would show himself. He kept his mind calm, repeating Uaica’s name ritually, knowing Wendigo would know he was doing so. The wind began to blow from the south, then a whirlwind formed, growing larger and larger until it rose high in the sky taking salt and dust upward. Then a red body floated down within the calm center of the whirlwind until it hovered just above the ground.

Caral looked up at Wendigo, shocked at his appearance. The red skin and the long white nails and eyes that appeared to glow. His penis was as a scorpion’s tail and the feet looked like hooves with their toes fused together. Wendigo was truly a beast, any humanity that had existed snuffed out with his transformation.

“You came,” Wendigo exclaimed, then he laughed.

“As agreed, I came alone. Where is Uaica?”

“Where I put him, of course.”

“You agreed to…”

“I know what I agreed to, but did you really think I’d let that foul thing go free?”

“No, not really,” Caral replied smiling at Wendigo.

Suddenly a layer of the desert surface rose quickly, and Wendigo had to react quickly, breaking the thick mass in half and pushing it away.

“Fool! What do you think you can do to me?” screamed Wendigo. He grew madder, his fury turning his skin white. He began to radiate heat and light.

“I think I can distract you,” Caral whispered.

Wendigo sensed the betrayal, how Caral had blocked his mind from him as did Aroteh. He suddenly sensed Aroteh in two places at once. He felt him near and far, and he looked around for him. The air around him changed, grew still, not even sound would move through it. It tightened around him, and he sensed a constriction. Suddenly he was in a dark place. He panicked, reaching out into the darkness and felt the cold steel surface.

Aroteh appeared next to Caral as the steel sphere materialized around Wendigo. It was double walled with a thick layer of lead between. Wendigo had become radioactive after the explosion in Antarctica, and it was the source of his greatest power, but inside the sphere it was contained around him, blocking much of his power.

“Let’s get rid of him,” Caral uttered as he took Aroteh’s hand, knowing it was easier for him to transport them when connected. Aroteh opened another dimension, unfolded it until it captured the sphere and the two of them. Then he folded it up. They disappeared from the hot desert, leaving only a swirling wind.

Aroteh had practiced for decades on honing his skill, and then he brought Caral with him and helped him to know when their space could be manipulated while he held them at the edge of the other dimension. It was something Wendigo would not expect, not even expecting he could break the apparent bounds of the earth.

Inside the orbit of Mercury, a sphere of space distorted. It moved of its own accord for no gravity can affect it. The sphere grew in size and became a fragmented sphere. Within it Aroteh and Caral hover behind the steel sphere within. The surface of the steel glowed red. Wendigo was fighting to get out and would succeed soon.

“Caral, you know what to do,” said Aroteh as he held them on the edge of the other dimension.

Caral distorted the space around the steel sphere making it spin about an imaginary axis. Faster and faster until they could sense the fury of Wendigo within it. Then he pushed the space out. The sphere popped out of the spatial distortion and moved toward the sun. It gained speed quickly, moving through the dark void of space with an acceleration that would take it to the sun in a short time. It began to glow red hot, then particles of melting steel trailed out from behind it as it drew closer to the sun. Caral manipulated the sun’s distortion of space, pulling the sphere toward it with greater force. The sphere suddenly turned to a molten ball of steel and lead, then it exploded into particles, raining down toward the surface. What was inside the sphere had long since burned from existence.

Reunion

As soon as Aroteh placed them back in the desert, they felt it. A presence that had been taken from them long ago. It was weak, barely alive, but it had a power that spoke of the person.

“He is still alive,” Aroteh uttered as he climbed in next to Caral.

“Yes. Can you locate him?”

“Not yet. He’s so weak.”

It feels like he is in China.”

“Or further north. I can’t be sure. Let’s get back to the airport and in the air. Let’s not give anyone a chance to question how the Jeep got abandoned or we traveled without the jet.”

“Yeah, let’s get in the air, then we can take off from the jet. Maybe the higher altitude will help locate him.”

“It won’t, but maybe Uaica will grow stronger, then we can locate him.”

The cave is dark, only a chemical glow emanating from the white crystal that lines one wall. In the center of its wide expanse, the crystal is cracked. The crack widened, then another crack formed along each side of it. There is a spidering of cracks that form until the whole central section broke and fell to the cave floor. For a second, Uaica stood free of the crystal, then he fell to the floor. He is unable to move, and his mind is fractured. He struggled to return to consciousness. Images came to him, flashes of light, then faces he can’t recall. He laid on the floor, paralyzed, the side of his face against the rough stone. He drew in a breath of stale air, then another. The lungs struggled to inflate, then compress. The heartbeat once. Then it beat again. The body warmed and the heart and lungs begin to work slowly.

Uaica rememberd them. Caral and Aroteh; the boys he had called them. He pictured their smiling faces. A night at the city of mounds. A temple in China. He calls out to them.

There is a trembling in the cave, and dust falls from the ceiling. There is a light in the darkness. It moves along the walls and floor. Then he hears voices.

“Uaica!” Caral exclaims and the voices become two young men hovering over him.

Central Park stretched out before them and to either side of it, the city surrounded it. The view from the penthouse apartment never failed to impress Caral as he stood at the window looking down at the expanse of green. Aroteh sat on the large leather sofa looking at the hospital bed positioned on the far side of the room. Uaica laid on it as if asleep. There are no tubes or monitors, for his healing doesn’t require medicines, just time.

It had been two days since their return. The New York Times lay on the coffee table, open to an article about scientists seeing a comet descend toward the sun and blow up. It had been captured by a special telescope NASA utilized for studying it. The image was odd in color, capturing the sun at a certain visible light range showing what appeared to be a small comet descending toward its surface. Neither Caral nor Aroteh had commented on the article, each just smirking while reading the first few paragraphs before moving on to something more interesting.

The doorbell rings and Aroteh looks at Caral in dismay. They are on a secure floor, with an elevator requiring special access to even operate. There is no staff for they didn’t want anyone around while Uaica recuperated.

“I guess I’ll see who’s at the door,” said Caral sarcastically, heading to the door. He went into the long foyer to the large door, looking through the peephole. He sees two men, then the shoulder of another. He tries to sense them, get some kind of read of who they may be, but he gets nothing. He knows they are like Uaica, ancient in years and powerful enough to block Aroteh and him. He swings open the door and see there are four men, middle age in appearance standing in the small corridor. They are well dressed, one even wearing a fedora.

“Can I help you?” asked Caral.

“Yes, we understand Uaica is here. May we see him?” said the man in front.

“Who are you?”

“Oh, forgive us, we are old friends. I’m Nirah, and this is We-llu, and that is Enki and beside him in that ridiculous hat, is Anshar.”

“I guess that explains how you got past security,” said Caral.

“Sorry, but we find all this surveillance and protocol a bit…” said Nirah, hesitating as he sought the correct word.

“Tiring; the word you’re looking for is tiring,” added Enki. “Can we see Uaica now?”

“I guess so. Come on in,” replied Caral, stepping back to allow the men to enter.

Caral followed the four men who seemed to know exactly where they were going. They strolled into the large living-dining room, turning to the right where Uaica lay.

“Oh, Uaica,” uttered We-llu as the four gathered around him.

“I’ve seen you guys before,” said Aroteh coming up to the group.

“You’re Aroteh,” said We-llu, stated as fact.

“Yes, and you’re the statues in that cavern.”

“Yes, we’re the remaining of the original group,” said Enki.

Anshar leaned over Uaica and gently put a hand on his forehead. He leaned closer.

“Uaica, wake up you old fool,” Anshar whispered.

Uaica stirred, there was an exhale then the fluttering of eyelids. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked up at Anshar, then over to the other three. He smiled.

“You’re back,” Uaica whispered in a hoarse dry voice.

“Yes. It was time, as you know,” Anshar replied.

Uaica sat in a lounge chair, leaned back, listening the conversation circling around the room. There had been so many questions from Caral and Aroteh, coming out in a rush. It was Nirah who replied to them. He told of their going underground, hiding away for Uaica had saw what would happen if they had not done so. There would have been terrible destruction if they had tried to fight Wendigo, and in the end, none had the power to defeat him. Uaica had seen the alternative path, the one that gave them victory over Wendigo. It would take waiting for centuries, until two came along that did possess powers that could defeat him, but even then Uaica saw centuries would pass. He never could explain why or what the specifics of the events to come, but he saw how thousands of years would pass from the time Wendigo first became corrupt with his power to the time he would finally be defeated in some manner.

“You said you didn’t have the power to defeat Wendigo, but there were five of you,” said Caral.

“There were seven of us. Don’t forget Inana and Shamash,” Uaica whispered.

“We had powers that made the people of our time view us as gods, but…” uttered We-llu, casting a look toward Nirah, then Enki.

“I can read minds but have to touch the person, make a connection to them,” said Nirah, then he looked around the room as he continued. “Uaica is a seer, Anshar can manipulate the weather, We-llu is a healer, Enki could levitate things, and Anshar could call down lightning.”

“Shamash could create light, the most beautiful bright light,” whispered Uaica.

“And Inana could heal a body or take the life from it,” said Nirah.

“She was the one Wendigo feared, the one that could have ended him, so she was the one he attacked. Shamash tried to stop him and ended up getting both of them killed,” said Uaica as tears streamed from his eyes.

“So, you see, Wendigo was the most powerful of the eight of us, and in the end his narcissism made him the most wretched.”

“We needed someone with greater power and time gave us two who had great power.”

Everyone fell silent and one by one they turned their eyes to the skyline of the city all lit up in the night.

“What happens next?” asked Aroteh.

“We live our lives,” said We-llu. He smiled at Aroteh then Caral making the others nod in agreement and smile too.

“What about the things people still do that is evil? Can’t we do something about it?” asked Caral.

“We tried in the past and every time it ended in disaster,” replied Enki.

“I’ve seen some scenarios and he’s right. None end well. We just have to let the passage of time slowly weed out the worst traits, as it has been doing, and hope it happens fast enough to prevent a cataclysmic event,” said Uaica.

“So, we do nothing?” asked Aroteh.

“No, there are times some interference can be done. If I could have told you it was for the better, you could have stopped World War I, and in doing so, prevented World War II, but the others…I’m afraid the cruelty of man had to play out to its end.”

Caral sat up and looked around the room. It was obvious some new question had come to him, and he was eager to gain everyone’s attention.

“Where have you been hiding all this time?” asked Caral.

Enki and We-llu laughed and Nirah smiled at Caral.

“We did much as you have done in the last eighteen hundred years. We hid in plain sight, living different lives in different places around the world,” replied Nirah.

“It’s getting late, and we should call it a night,” said Anshar climbing to his feet. “Uaica, will you come with us when we leave at the end of the week? We have a place for you.”

Uaica sat up and saw the looks from Caral and Aroteh. “I think I’ll start a new life somewhere, if I can get some help getting set up in this new world.”

“Oh, yes, we would love to help you,” Aroteh exclaimed. Caral nodded in agreement.

“It seems a wonderful plan,” said We-llu coming to Uaica and taking his hand. “We’ll be back tomorrow, and we can talk about how to stay in contact now that we don’t have to keep a low profile.”

The others came together, said their goodbyes, and let Aroteh and Caral led them to the door. They made plans for the next day. It made them smile, the mundane nature of their plans.

An Ordinary Life

The cabin was tucked into the mountains in a cove that isolated it from the surrounding regions. A deck cantilevered out from the living area and bedroom, and from its outer reaches one could look down the cover and see the Tasman Sea on the horizon. The cabin had running water and power, but no cellphone or internet therefore making it primitive for most of this modern age. But to Caral and Aroteh it was one of their favorite residences. A place they could be alone where the events unfolding in the world didn’t depress or aggravate them. It allowed them to live peacefully for a time. They spent the days reading, listening to their favorite music, or lounging in bed naked, exhausted from their sex.

It was late evening on this particular day, the sun just above the horizon. Inside the cabin, clothes were strewn across the floor of the living area, leaving a trail to the adjacent bedroom. In the bedroom, with the French doors open to the evening breeze, Aroteh lay on the bed with Caral moving over him. He felt the familiar touches. A caress of fingers. Lips against his skin, and the hot exhales. Then the lips touched his cock, moved along its hard length, wrapped over the head, and let him sink into the warm slick mouth. He shivered and pushed upward.

Soon Caral had his legs held up and spread apart. He felt this ritualistic opening of himself. The spreading of his limbs; he even held his arms out to each side clutching at the bed. Then the penetration with the stretching his opening, then the fullness of Caral inside him. He felt Caral’s movement, the pushing inward then tugging out, over and over. He begged for it, pleaded for him to go faster. The way Caral moved inside him made his own arousal grow intense. He undulated beneath Caral, then clung to the sweating, flexing body. He felt its strength, and its heat. Caral moved down on top of him, pinning his legs against his chest, and he felt the sweat slick torso move against them.

Caral’s first load smeared over his chest and stomach as they fucked once again. They became more animated, more physical, and Caral got on his knees and fucked harder, faster, driving into Aroteh’s depths. The old wood bed rocked beneath them. Its squeaking aligned with their fuck. It spurned them on, none more so than Caral who thrust hard, hips smacking against upturned ass. Then he came again, jerking and shuddering with each ejaculation.

Caral fell on Aroteh, kissing him gently, passionately. He slipped his arms around the muscular body and rolled to his back, bringing Aroteh on top. Long legs wrapped around the narrow waist, he trailed the fingers of his right hand up the stomach and chest.

“Your turn,” Caral whispered, smiling mischievously.