CHAPTER 2: Teaching and the Trek
A voice, temporarily formal in tone, called through the air of Atlantis.
"…And may Atlantis grow as we learn!" To emphasize his point, Milo thrust a fist into the air. The shift was too much, for the oversized royal hat slid over his eyes. "Uhhh… See you, everyone," the linguist said dropping the formality of the farewell speech. He heard some modest laughter from the crowd and with a hearty laugh the queen lifted the darkness of the hat from his eyes. "Thanks." The response to this was a hummed chuckle from Kida.
With the departure speech complete, the scholar turned from the people to his wife, and they rushed inside the palace to change into garb more suitable for travel. This time Obbi was going to stay in the caves of Atlantis, since the lava whales had migrated close, and he could be with others of his kind in the comfort of his home. Milo led his wife to the waiting Aktirak, and, after letting her enter first, he sat beside her, following the directions on the inscription pad. Gracefully the hammerhead vehicle rose as the people shouted goodbyes to their king and queen.
Wind once again pulled at hair and garment, but now with a playful tug as they reached the cliff of the once-blaring shell. A smiling face beamed from the person who sat on top of the giant horn. Carefully the shark-form landed on the cliff edge.
"Yeah, I know we're late Keneshea," Milo laughed to the woman perched atop the shell. "Sorry about that."
"Apologize not to me," the woman responded with a kind smile, "but to them."
A wave of cheerful "hellos" greeted the couple as they left their vehicle. Their old friends had returned.
"Milo! Looks like you're ah doin' pretty okay for yourself, eh?" A black-comb-mustached Italian came and gripped him by the shoulders with gloved hands.
"Oh, yes, Vinny!" The king then gripped the queen's hand. "We-"
A teenage Latino girl interrupted. "Hey, It's good to see you both again!" With the greeting came a firm punch to the shoulder.
"It is good to see you again, too, Audrey!" came Kida among the voices.
Cookie was next. "Hey, ya fellers! How'r doin?" Considering the odor that came from him, he had been making one of his "special" meals. "Got somethin' in the ol' chuckwagon for ya both. It could be real romantical--"
"Uh, thanks, Cookie, but we, uh… just ate." The statement was truthful.
"Oh, that there's okay. It'll--"
"I know. 'Keep and keep and keep!'" Milo finished for him with a slight laugh, inwardly grimacing at what the greasy meal might taste like.
"Yup!" The country cook proudly held his wader's suspenders.
"Milo! Kida!" A little Frenchman, sporting his unusual goggles, popped into the middle of the crowd, everyone instantly stepping back as flies buzzed around the grimy man's head.
"Wow… Mole! Uh, hey! How's it goin'?" The king truly did not want to embrace the man with the outstretched arms.
"Eet eez very good. A friend just sent me an exquiseet sample of permafrost in the Arctic region."
"Oh! And that reminds me…" He reached into the pocket of his jumper pants, finding these older clothes feeling rather strange upon his skin. Milo procured a blue wemot leather bag and handed it to Mole.
"Ah! Eez it…?" Rodent-like teeth obvious in his grin, the Frenchman looked enthusiastically into the bag.
"We know you were trying to be… polite by not taking any dirt from Atlantis, so we thought we should give you some."
Kida responded as the geologist peered happily at the glistening soil. "It is earth from near the palace."
"Oh, I am sooo appreceeateeve!" Before anyone could escape the mineralogist gripped the husband and wife, to their horror, in an enormous hug.
"Uh, sure, Mole..." Milo had been glad he had buttoned his overcoat, and he now removed the dirtied garment. He smiled, pleased he had overjoyed Mole.
"You are quite… welcome." The queen tried to wipe the dust from her shorter, more casual robes, a distraction Milo took advantage of.
"Psst! Vinny!" Kida, he saw, had begin to speak with Audrey.
"Yeah?"
"Did you get them?"
Relaxed eyes searched for an answer before fully realizing what the bookish man spoke of. "Oh," he began with a hushed voice, "they're ah in the truck." He pointed with an entire hand. "Roses, right?"
"You got it! Thanks, Vinny. I really owe you one."
"Ey, don't ah mention it."
A figure to the side caught Milo's eye. "Hey, Packard!"
"Hi." The older woman put a cigarette to her lips and inhaled deeply, removing a hand from her headphones.
"Well, how are things going?"
"Same as always," she continued in her nonchalant tone. It was clear she wanted to go back to gossiping with Marge as she unenthusiastically straightened the mouthpiece of her communicator gear.
"Miiiilo! Been too long!" A huge, spine-cracking bear hug surprised him from behind.
"Hey, Sweet! Get the new supplies you wanted?"
"Yep! Got the best brands from the catalogue." He lifted the end of a stethoscope that hung on his chest. "Says this'll be twice as sensitive as your average one." He let it drop back onto the front of his olive drab tank top. The doctor presented his typically enormous grin.
Past the physician was a familiar face sitting in the truck. "Garret! Haven't seen you since you took us around when Kida first came up."
"Huh?" The young man looked up, bits of brown hair partially obscuring saddened green eyes. "Oh, hi Milo."
"Garret, what's wrong?" The youth's face was down turned again. The scholar tried to approach, but was gently held back by a gigantic hand on the shoulder. Garret did not answer.
"You'd better not," softly spoke Sweet's deep voice.
"What's wrong with him?"
"He invaded Austria, Milo." A solemn expression now pervaded the man's face.
"'He?' He who?"
"Hitler. He invaded Austria. It was just about a week ago. March 12th. His girlfriend was there doing research. Her family sent word that she was killed, Milo."
"Oh, no… This situation is getting really out of hand." The scholar shook his head remorsefully. He couldn't help but juxtapose Kida in the girlfriend's place, and, thus, understand exactly how Garret felt.
"Don't all wars, really? That's what it's becoming."
Milo sighed. "Yeah… but not like this. All we can hope is America doesn't get into this... or worse. Atlantis."
"No one other than us knows it's here."
The linguist clenched a determined fist. "I'm going to talk to him."
"Already tried. Just makes the thought fresher in his mind. It doesn't help. Not yet for him. Another week or two, and he might be able to accept it all. Believe me, I've dealt with enough dying patients and their families to know."
"Oh, Sweet…" Another serious sigh escaped his lips. "If we can only keep America out of this…"
The daily ritual began, the serene morning silence only adding to the deepness, the greatness, of the concepts.
The man in the mirror repeated Milo's every move. He looked at himself almost incredulously, wondering if it were really true.
"I'm thin," the scholar said quietly, running a hand over the modest muscles of his shoulder that were not covered by his tank top. "Gangly, my eyesight's poor without my glasses…" Unconsciously he removed and cleaned them. "Some people claim what I talk about is boring…" He looked into the eyes of his twin on the wall. "Few people could care if I found legends."
"Yet, she doesn't care what I look like." A grin of delight, combined with the feeling it was all too good to be true, appeared on his face. "She likes learning about other cultures." He paused at the profoundness of the statement, leaning over the bathroom sink. "She loves me. For who I am! She understands!" His blissfully shook his head. "She really loves me…" the soft vocalization was almost in itself a kiss upon his lips.
There was a flicker of movement in the corner of the mirror.
Milo whirled clumsily around on one heel, almost toppling over. "Oh! Hey… Kida…" He laughed embarrassedly.
The linguist lovingly viewed a petit, yet muscular form with a misty white waterfall of hair. Blue marks that matched her formal robes moved over her face as he wished his fingers did at the movement. "Good morning," she voiced with a typical half-smile.
"Hey, uh… How long have you been there?"
Crossing her arms, she leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. "If you are wondering, I have seen you do this before."
"You-you have?" he blushed, looking over the rim of his glasses.
"I certainly do not mind."
"Well, I didn't think you would, but…"
His wife approached him with a dreamy, loving look, and she placed blue-sleeved arms around his neck. "I do the same." Her deep voice was very warm as she put her face close to his.
"You do?" he smiled.
She nodded, and he grasped her lean frame in affectionate embrace.
A warm breeze carried the salty scent of the ocean in gentle arms. The newly born sun turned the mercury waves into molten gold. Only a few magenta clouds dared to smudge the sky as a ship passed below.
A blunt-fingered fair hand lovingly grasped a darker, slender one.
"Hey, Kida?" He shifted the mysterious mass behind his back.
The king saw her eyes turn from the vivid colors of a spectacle she rarely got to witness to his. "Yes?" she smiled.
"Well, uh…" He struggled to find the best words. "In my, uh, past culture--"
"Milo, it is fine to see two nations as 'your people.'"
He chuckled weakly. "Well, it's a custom for a man to give a girl… a girl he really loves… something almost as pretty as she is." The linguist meekly pulled from behind his back a fragrant bouquet of flowers, bathed gold in the dawn's light.
A look of delight appeared on the queen's face. "Oh, they are very beautiful!" She brushed the bangs from her face as she happily accepted the gift, notably breathing in the sweet scent. "Never have I seen flowers such as these."
Milo rubbed the back of his neck as he pointed to the flowers. "They're called roses." Before he could react a pair of arms had been tossed around his neck. As always he returned the hug with all his heart. When they released each other the king took a shimmering rose bloom and placed it in the queen's snow dove hair. The wind delicately procured the scent of the enraptured queen's flowers and passed it along the waves, hoping to share the scent with yet another.
"Milo?" Kida's eyes were set in the distance, in the direction of the sunrise. A jagged black line separated sea from sky. "Is that AH-frih-kah?"
"Yep." A deep voice made the couple spin. "Home of some of my ancestors."
"Mornin', Sweet."
"Good morning."
"And good mornin' to the two of you." With a fleet little movement, the black man tossed a fruit slice in his mouth. "Anyone want an orange? Got a bunch extra. They aren't apples, but they should keep me away just the same."
Milo laughed. "Sure, Sweet. Thanks."
"Yes, please."
"See somebody gave ya flowers," the doctor smiled as he popped the last wedge into his mouth and opened the medical bag that never left his side.
"Yes!" Kida's face was as bright as the sun as she looked to Milo. "It was very charming." The scholar blushed slightly.
Chuckling, Sweet took from it a large pouch containing a few more pieces of fruit. Milo couldn't help but feel there was nothing health related that was not I that medical bag, though he knew well that was not true. The physician tossed each a golden orb, and the couple expressed their thanks.
Being without a knife, the scholar struggled to peel away the skin with short fingernails. He looked hopefully to Sweet, about to inquire to see if he had one, but found a rather unsure and surprised look on the doctor's face. He followed the gaze to his wife, who was taking a large bite of orange, rind and all.
"Uh… um, Kida? You're not supposed to eat the peel."
The woman simply stared at him, mouth full, and swallowed. "I suppose that would account for the bitter taste?"
"Suppose it would," Sweet chuckled.
As Milo finally got a finger under the orange skin and pulled it away, Sweet pulled out his last orange and began to do the same with the aid of a scalpel. Knowing Sweet, it would be carefully cleansed later. The tangy scent of the fruit almost overpowered the perfume of the roses. The studious man looked up to see his wife cutting away chunks of rind with her hunting knife before eating the fruit, many of its sections having already separated in the peeling process. A whistle blew, painfully penetrating the stirring air.
"Gosh! I've got to get my notes together! See you, Sweet! Love you, Kida!"
Before anyone could respond, Milo dashed across the deck to a set of stairs and descended. After flying past several doors he finally flung one open to enter his and Kida's room. He procured a pencil and a small book, for once not pulling out the Shepherd's Journal. Sticking the eraser end of the pencil in his mouth, he fumbled with some slides before tearing off. The jagged line was boldening outside.
Relaxed, the linguist king habitually began to flip through his notebook, carelessly nibbling the eraser of the pencil hanging out of his mouth. The room was blessed with the fragrance of the orange Milo had finished in there recently. Slowly people sauntered into the dim, makeshift presentation room, and sat down. The slide projector was the only source of illumination.
The popping of bubblegum silenced the murmur of the small group of people.
"Hello… everyone," Milo began. "I'm going to introduce to a myth you probably don't know much about. It's called 'Mokele-Mbembe.'"
"Mohawk Bambi?" came Mole disgustedly, referencing the English story.
"Moh-KEL-lee M-what?" Sweet asked.
"Moh-KEH-lee Mmm-Bambi. Bembe! I mean BEM-beh!" The lecturer ran his hand over his hair with slight embarrassment. "It's an African legend. Kind of like Big Foot."
Audrey expressed her irritation with a slight growl. "Uhhhg! What a waste of time that was! A family tradition in monkey suits!"
"Well, that was kind of a disappointment. Many cultures have roots and reasoning in their myths and legends, though…" He trailed off in thought before shaking himself out of it. "Anyway, lets' get going. Actually, Mokele-Mbemebe would be more like Nessie than Big Foot. It's a prehistoric reptile supposedly living in modern day. First off, the name means--"
"'One who stops the flow of rivers.'"
Milo simply stared at Kida for an instant, slightly taken aback before remembering his wife knew how to speak at least as many languages as he did. "Um… Yeah… The creature's been described differently between observer interpretation and myth. Most commonly it's believed to live in caves in the swamplands of the Likouala region. Supposedly it's about the size of an elephant and grayish-brown in color. They say its tail is strong and its neck long with a small head. Some have said it has a frill of sorts. Like a cock's comb." He noticed Kida stirring in such a way Milo thought she was about to say something.
"Fossil Fried Chicken!" The voice broke all train of thought.
"Shut up, Cookie," Audrey spoke again.
The speaker cleared his throat to call attention. "Mokele-Mbembe fits the description of a small sauropod dinosaur. Like brontosaurus, only smaller. By the way, they've found out they put the wrong skull on the skeleton, but you've got the basic concept. Now, there are currently two ways of thinking about sauropods. The newest one is that they're land animals that lived near swamps. In my opinion, the second one makes more sense. The older theory is that they actually lived in the swamps, using the water to support their enormous weight. Think of a hippopotamus. Typically the heavy animals would live in the water and occasionally come on land to graze. Mokele-Mbembe might be able to stay underwater longer if it lives on water plants. This makes sense, actually, since the creature supposedly lives in the river when it's out of the caves. Another detail to support the theory is the skulls." Milo slipped a slide into the projector, an inverted skull appearing on the projection screen.
"Oops! Sorry! He quickly corrected the problem, though almost dropping the slide in his haste. "There we go." He stepped in front of the screen to motion to the image. "Now, this is the skull of diplodocus, a sauropod. Notice the nostrils are located on top of the skull as opposed to the end like most animals. This is like what we see on a dolphin or a whale." He saw a woman's dark form cock its head. "Like a shemubin, Kida."
"So since when did you become a dinosaur expert?" droned Packard, unimpressed.
"Well, I'm not really. I've been doing some studies. However, you remember when Mr. Whitmore wanted to meet with me alone just after we left Atlantis? He had someone there who was an assistant to Barnum Brown, one of the leading paleontologists. Supposedly, Barnum Brown's found an extraordinary dig site in Alberta, Canada, Red Deer River Valley region. The assistant trusted me with some of the secrets Brown's, well, literally unearthed there."
"Oh! Weell we be deeging up bones, too? When weell we be deeging?"
There was a small surge of laughter that answered Mole's question.
"Ey, uh, exactly what has ah Brown found that you can tell us?"
"He's found a lot recently, in particular, but you might know him best from a species he found in 1908."
With the clumsy clinking of glass a new illustration appeared on the screen. A fearsome reptile with massive talons and a gigantic, saw-toothed maw seemed to look outward ravenously.
"You probably all know about Tyrannosaurus rex. He's also found or helped find creatures like triceratops." The slide changed to depict a parrot-faced beast with three bull-like horns.
"Where does usually one find such animals? I know wh--"
"They all became extinct millions of years ago, Kida," he said, cutting her off, "but maybe, just maybe, we may find a species that hasn't died out. That species is Mokele-Mbembe. There are also other myths, for instance, that seem about as unlikely. One is a myth about a 130-200 foot snake called Nguma-Momele. Most likely this one is more myth, since no snake species grows even close to that large, not even in prehistoric times. Someone must have seen a python in the water and panicked. Of course, you never know…" Milo smiled dreamily.
"Now," he continued, "there was an 'official' sighting of Mokele-Mbembe by a man called Captain von Stein zu Lausnitz in 1913. He said that it was too dangerous to use a canoe because the creature would attack. Even hippopotami were killed. My guess is this is a very territorial animal. Additionally, it was reported to be a vegetarian. The men that perished for the sake of discovery weren't eaten." The well-learned man spoke quite reverently of those who risked their lives, not for money, but for knowledge. "This animal being a herbivore fits the description of a sauropod, too. Now, if you could… just… turn your attention… to this… map…" He struggled with a very large atlas. "We'll be… Ah!" Finally setting it down on a desk angled so all could see, he breathed in relief. "We'll be landing here, on the coast of Africa. From there we'll go by car to the Congo, specifically the Likoualu region." The man walked the distance on the map with his angular fingers. "Now, we'll use the cars to get there, and those only. Just to remind you all, the Atlantean vehicles we're bringing are only to be used in case of emergency. Back with the first encounter with the kraken they would have been more useful. That's why we're bringing them now, but we'll have to keep them in the trailer, obviously. Sorry if I'm just stating the obvious."
"It's all right," Garret stated.
"Don't ah worry about it."
"Thanks. Okay, when we reach the--"
Uncaring about any discussion, another whistle reached even the lowest decks, interrupting Milo.
"Um, never mind," the scholar said. "We're here."
A drop of sweat rolled off of Milo's brow and onto his glasses, blinding him. While trying to ward off some insects he removed his eyewear to clean them on his shirt. The humidity in the area was almost deadly. The scholar looked forward to the dryer climate they would travel through for a short time. He followed the others into the blissful shade of a building, wiping his head with his forearm.
The cozy dimness of the place was not so dark as to leave one blind. Several lamps flickered within. Within seconds his eyes adapted. Everyone was stripped to his or her coolest clothes. While his wife wore her very informal Atlantean street clothes, he and the others wore the same garb they had traversed the great city in on their first day. Since she was used to Atlantis's constant temperatures of around 72 degrees, Milo did not wish to ask Kida to wear the heavier clothing everyone else did, although she stuck out. Like the warrior, Milo used his spear as a walking stick. All who entered the structure, regardless of race, clothes or otherwise were thankful for the haven from the flies.
The linguist approached the front desk and peered around. "Hello? Anyone there?"
A man with the skin tone of dark tree bark appeared. His height, however, was closer to that of a tree stump. "Ah! Hello my friends!" he greeted them all amicably, motioning with fleshy arms. "What can I do for you?"
"We've been sent by Whitmore Industries. We'll be needing a tour guide or two."
"Well, I'll check my list here and--" He stopped and stood, finally taking note of the bizarre woman who stood nearby. Milo knew the storekeeper could not help it, for her clothes and cloud-white hair, not to mention the cerulean tattoos, were not something one would commonly see. The spears both he and his wife were carrying were undoubtedly seen as quite odd as well.
"We're tourists, basically," Milo explained, feeling awkward about the tattoo on his shoulder.
The African looked to the various crewmembers. "I assume some of you are from America?"
"Yeah--"
"That would explain much," interrupted the shopkeep as he looked back to Kida. He moved some merchandise to get to a folder and examine its contents. As he did so, Milo heard him mutter, "Americans. They are stranger every year…." It was a moment or so before he spoke again. "Ah, here you are. I have paired you with… Ah, they are in the back, now. I'll get them." He left the group in silence, waddling back through a doorway. After some garbled discussion, he brought two men, one with chocolate and one with cream skin, with him.
"This man," he started in his thick accent and gesturing toward the darker guide, "is Mr. Duma. He's your savannah an animal expert." The short person then motioned to the other man, who was taller but not as lean. "And this is your jungle expert, Mr. Neil."
"You'll find us adequate," Neil joked. "Assuming you can get past Duma's eccentricities. He's a bit of a tree-hugger/animal-lover," he added teasingly.
"Hey! I do my job. If people keep coming in and shooting a dozen lions a time for trophies or killing elephants just for their ivory, you can bet they're going to become rare." Duma folded his arms.
"There's no evidence the animals are going to be wiped out."
"Animals do go extinct, you know. What about the quagga?"
Neil sighed and gave up.
"Well, it is certainly a pleasure to meet you. I'm Milo Thatch." He shook the men's hands. "Mr. Duma? Interesting name. Means, 'cheetah,' right?"
"Sure does," boomed the man casually, yet proudly. He opened his mouth to continue, but was stopped before he could exhale a single comment.
"What is a 'CHEE-tah?" The guides and shopkeeper gawked at Kida's question. Or is that another pronunciation of 'CHEE-tuhr?'" She cocked her head.
The vendor commented immediately. "All right. Now I know you are American."
"We'll have to show you animals along the way, even though that's not what you were looking for…" Neil looked to Milo. "…Right?"
"Right," Milo confirmed. He noted Kida's face glowed with anticipation, and he could not help but smile at her. "We need to -- hey! Who turned out the lights?"
The dimness in the room thickened, leaving the rare open window as the only source of light. Vague outlines were the only features that separated person from wares.
"Jim!" the peddler roared. "You fool! You let the generator die again!" A shuffling sound was stopped by a horrendous crash.
A multitude of voices arose, asking if the man was injured.
"No, I'm fine…" growled the hearty voice. A shambling and clanging duet indicated he was rising from the ground. "Go ahead and take Duma and Neil to your vehicles. I have a little discussing I must do." Footsteps clanked away.
"Well, at least we can find the door out without killing ourselves, Milo remarked, thumbing ineffectually toward a sliver of light. Momentarily the glow was obscured as a youthful form appeared against the burning light of the outdoors, causing Milo to squint in discomfort. "Thanks Audrey." The raging radiance instantly caused the room temperature to rise.
The group walked out, all shading their eyes and instantly perspiring in the boiling air, as a distant shouting met their ears.
"We have to cross some savannah and jungle to even reach the Congo from here. Now, shall we find your myth?" asked the dark guide. It was clear their escorts had gotten the telegrams sent out.
Milo nodded with an enthusiastic, appreciative grin.
"So why are we doing this again?" There was no response. "!Hola! !El mundo a Milo!"
"W-what?" Some notes were nearly lost as the polyglot jumped.
"I've been talking to you for maybe a minute now. You never close the books, do you?" The Latino had to speak loudly over the engine and Packard's gossip.
Milo chuckled at Audrey. "No, I guess not. Just trying to prepare myself for what we might find."
"Why are we doing this?" tried the mechanic again as she braced herself. The truck did not handle the terrain well, and hauling a gigantic trailer worsened things. "How does looking for a dinosaur help you guys improve Atlantis's culture?"
"Many cultures base themselves off of animals. Look at Native Americans, or even Atlantis itself. Now, Mokele-Mbembe is pretty new as far as myths go -- only about, oh, 200 years -- but the thing is we can see how an animal, whether it's just a big snake or a real dinosaur, might affect a culture. No one worships the creature, but it does affect the cultures in the area. The tribes now habitually avoid fishing, swimming, or canoeing in the river where it's supposed to live because they're attacked. Now considering the age of the story, there might be a small population of the creatures there. Just think, in a century or so more, their culture might change entirely, making stories about it and all."
"Milo? What are we doing? You said they were attacked? Doesn't that make this dangerous?"
"Going under the sea in a new piece of technology is risky, too."
"Good point."
"Anyway, if we can see where this myth comes from, we could see how it affects culture. Hey, even if it is just a normal animal, or a rock formation, whatever, we'll still see how nature can affect a society. Think of what would change if, say, Atlantis's ecosystem was different, somehow."
"Yeah, I get it." Annoyance was expressed as the scholar began to ramble.
"Sorry. Guess I got… a little carried away."
A great jolt hurled Garret and Vinny against the mechanic.
"Hey, you watch it!" she growled.
"I'm sorry," said Garret solemnly, yet sincerely. He moved back to his small seat and returned to staring back at the truck bed, a habit he had acquired since his loss.
"Excuse me, but don't get mad for ah not bein' able to fix the other truck." Vinny spoke smoothly, slowly motioning with whole hands and with typically half-closed eyes.
"The piston estupido blew out! It damaged most of the rest of the engine, and I didn't have enough spare parts! I couldn't even fudge it!" The scowl continued over Packard's continued monotone.
"No one's ah blamin' you. We all know you're disappointed."
"Oh, shut up! Now we're all stuck riding in one truck and carrying our gear, or else you're sitting on top of the trailer." She thrust a thumb to point, the motion in itself conveying her irritation at being unable to fix the catastrophic failure of the other car. The digit indicated Kida, Sweet, and Mole, all of whom either had a low enough center of gravity or enough coordination to stay on fairly well.
Milo silently wished he could have Kida sitting beside him, or, better yet, he had acquired enough coordination to be up with her. There was little doubt, even with the insulation of a tarp over the metal surface, the trailer must still be scorching, judging by the sweat rolling past their eyes. The king noted whenever a droplet caressed a celestial tattoo upon his queen's cheek, it appeared as some hopeless, loving tear of a person having lost his or her spouse. Her hair shined with a pure radiance in the wavering air. The face, haloed by the sun suddenly looked to him as displayed a blissful smile. He had unconsciously been grinning to her, but her gaze caused, in the landscape of his face, for a canyon to widen, ivory walls suddenly appearing.
The stopping of the vehicle suddenly had everyone's attention.
"Now what?" groaned Audrey.
The light hand of one of the tour guides pointed to a sinuous, slinking form in the distance.
"What is it?" whispered Kida, who had slid to the side closest to Milo.
The scholar stood and quietly replied, "Cheetah."
Everyone was silent, save for the chatty Packard, as the animal approached. At about fifty yards away the feline paused, looking curiously in the direction of the explorers. It sat down on its haunches while inspecting them, its tail twitching amusedly like some spotted and striped tail of an inquisitive monkey.
"So what did you say, Marge?" Packard's voice droned as usual.
The hunter's eyes passed from one item or face to another, as if passing a bizarre judgment, some enigmatic evaluation.
"Marge."
The swift bringer of death shut its eyes in the heat, as if in deep thought.
"Margie."
A hind limb scratched a shoulder blade, spotted with the color of blackened blood, with poise.
"Marge."
There was a trill of some exotic bird.
"Who is this?"
The call forced the eyes of the magnificent beast open, its sight set on Milo.
"I thought you weren't coming back. What's wrong with her?"
Bored with the game, the cheetah yawned like a roar, picked itself up with great dignity and slid away into the tall savannah grass.
"Uh, huh. I'll be there." A click sounded with the passing of the cheetah's presence.
"Who was that?" Vinny was the first to speak.
"Marge's husband, Harold. I need to go back."
"Why?" boomed Duma, the driver.
"Marge just had a heart attack, he sez. Doesn't know if she'll live." The communicator spoke as if t were an everyday occurrence.
"My gosh!" Milo exclaimed. He thought quickly. "Duma? Neil? Could you please leave us alone for a moment?"
Neil's chiseled features appeared. "Why? We need to know what we're doin' here, too."
"Please, just do it."
Reluctantly and bewildered the guides agreed and removed themselves from the front seats, walking a small distance away.
"Okay, what are we going to do?" He pushed up his glasses.
"Guess we'll head on back, Fellers."
"Cookie, we've gone too far," came Audrey. "Just the addition of the gear and ourselves on top of the heat is putting a lot of stain on the engine. I don't know how long it will last if we turn back."
"We weel send her back on an Atlantean vehicle." The geologist patted the top of the trailer.
"We can't," began Milo. "This may be an emergency, but even at those speeds it would take her a long tome to get there. Couple of days, maybe, non-stop?" He looked to Packard. "You've never flown one of these, have you?"
"No."
"She could ah take it back to the outpost."
"It would attract too much attention, plus, as said, she's never flown one," Milo commented.
"Maybe we could ah take the vehicles and continue onward."
"That might frighten the animals we are searching for," voiced Kida concernedly.
"And the truck isn't?" Audrey crossed her arms.
"One vehicle would not be as intimidating as eight would be."
"Guess that leaves only one alternative."
"Yes, Sweet." The bookish man dreaded what he was about to say. "One of the guides will take Packard in the truck -- with the trailer - to the outpost and drop her off. It's not far to the dock from there. A guide'll then return with the truck and trailer to meet up with us at a further point. Meanwhile, we'll travel a little further by foot."
A remorseful voice broke the brief, ensuing silence.
"Someone's going to need to escort her to the port and on the way to Marge's."
"Good idea. But are you suggesting you should go back to America, Garret?" inquired Milo.
The twenty-one year old nodded solemnly.
"Okay…" Milo shouted in the direction of the guides. "Neil! Duma!" He waved them back.
"So what are we doing?" asked Duma.
"This, well, may seem pretty strange, but… One of you needs to drive Packard and Garret back to the dock, and then come back with the truck and trailer."
"What?!" exclaimed both of them.
"Are you sure? We're not leaving you alone out here!"
"No. One of you will stay with us. Duma? You're our animal expert, right? We'll need you when we're by ourselves, just to protect us from predators."
The soil-colored man sighed. "I don't think this is a good idea."
"We've discussed our options."
"All right. But you'll need supplies." The guides, as if they were controlled by the same wind, simultaneously moved to the truck's overloaded bed of supplies and acquired backpacks, provisions, and tools, to name a few.
"Neil?" asked one guide to another. "We'll meet you… here." He pointed to a site on a map he procured. "Gazelle Grove. We might get there by the time you're ready to pick us up. Send a flare when you're near the area."
"Gazelle Grove would be a good place to get fresh water and fruit, if need be. Good idea."
Duma handed a backpack to first Mole, Then to Vinny before handing one to Milo. The linguist almost fell with the weight of the cumbersome load, but he finally succeeded in balancing himself.
And so the group readied for the long trek ahead into the heaviness of the scalding air.
Based off the Disney Picture "Atlantis: the Lost Empire." The name "Atlantis: The Dark Continent's Enigma," "armags," "kriperlok," and the characters Temlohn, Duma and Neil are my (Rebmakash's) property. The characters, "MUH-suh MIH-kee" and Khohbdesheh are my property, and I acknowledge I do not own the names. Fan fiction storyline also my property. Milo Thatch, Kidagakash, Puknohl, Wandehm and other characters, names, concepts, and all Atlantean in this story are property of the Walt Disney Company. I also recognize certain lines (such as "Salt, salt, and sodium chloride") are also property of the Disney Company.
Disclaimer: Atlantis: the Lost Empire, and the characters, language, symbols, storylines and titles are property of he Walt Disney Company. This site has been created for entertainment, non-profit purposes only. See sources.
Permission must be granted by the fan authors/artists before their material is to be used. Credit must also be given to the respective author/artist in question. Do so via their e-mail. Questions? Comments? E-mail me at Like_A_Star8800@yahoo.com.
