Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One) by Nathan Hystad (ereader iphone .TXT) 📕

“We’ve been moving so fast, and I haven’t been as clear-minded as I’d like. But it’s time to spill the proverbial beans, as it were.” Hunter sipped his drink, and I did the same. My hand trembled slightly as I lowered the glass. “These are the facts as I know them. The Believers suggest a race was here long before humans. They aren’t certain whether we originated from their stock, but many treat this like gospel. There are sub-segments of their cult, with a multi-faceted ranking system.”

“They all agree that the Unknowns arrived ages ago, when the face of the planet was far different than it is today. It’s suggested they created the spark of life and left us to develop, with plans to return one day.”

“Why leave and return? What do they want to accomplish?” Marcus asked him.

“I’ll tell you it is not philanthropic. They say the Unknowns want slaves, beings to control, and that is why they exist. The Believers want to be the middlemen in the transaction. They think their group will act as an intermediary, and while the Unknowns pillage our planet, they’ll be rewarded for the ease with which the matter occurs.”

I finished the drink, setting my glass down. It slipped off the table and landed on the hardwood, nearly shattering. “Sorry.”

Hunter just kept talking. “There was no indication of how they would come back to Earth, or when, but it was obvious they were anticipating it over the last few decades. It began with this…” He tapped the book. “Hardy knows their language, but I’m rusty. It was never something I considered factual. To me, they were making it up, a design to sound advanced to the newer acolytes. It’ll take me some time to determine what the journal says, but I will. And we’ll be steps ahead.”

I picked up the glass, refilling it. “And you think it all points to the Bridge?”

“Hardy learned about it from somewhere, and it wasn’t the Believers. He picked up a trail, probably left by various truth-seekers in the generations leading up to your father’s discovery of the ancient Tokens.” Hunter was flushed, and he leaned into the couch, cheeks puffing out.

“There were other people searching for the Tokens?” Veronica had been quiet, but it was evident the wheels were spinning. Her gaze danced between me and Hunter.

“Dirk claims there were clues about their locations, dating back as far as ancient Egypt. He thinks the first appearance of a Token was in Karnak among artifacts on a shrine to the god Amun. They would have been unaware of its function, but the mere fact that it was there indicated that someone from long before had kept it as a prize.

“It’s likely the Tokens would have passed hands countless times across the ages. Wars, vanishing civilizations, advancing technologies pushing out old beliefs. Dirk and Clayton had a knack for following leads, so once their noses were on the trail, they hunted each of the Tokens down like bloodhounds looking for a possum on their farm.” Hunter stared at his glass, rotating it in his fingers.

“They thought it would work?” Veronica asked him. “Clayton, and Rex’s dad. They trusted the Bridge was real?”

“I had many discussions with Dirk about it. Clayton was more reserved. He preferred to stay in Dirk’s shadow, and that seemed to suit them both fine.”

“Did my dad believe he was going to use the Bridge?” The breath caught in my throat while I waited for a response.

“No, not at first. But he saw it as an opportunity to do what he loved and make money in the process. He was a treasure hunter, a real-life adventurer. He was initially going to do as our contract stipulated: locate the Case and Tokens, and hand them over. But Dirk changed in those years. He had a family and, from what I gathered, had an altercation with someone in the cult. He cut me off shortly after, despite my demands that what he held was my property. I thought he’d come to his senses, and before he departed on that last trip to Portugal, he assured me that I could join them. He thanked me for my patience and funding, and apologized for his actions.” Hunter smiled as he recalled the conversation.

“But something happened,” I whispered.

“I suppose so. Dirk and Clayton fled, and from what we can gather, they had hired this porter of theirs to disperse the Tokens in some very difficult locations,” Hunter said.

“And what’s your theory for this?” Tripp hadn’t touched his drink; he swirled it in the glass.

“Dirk was caught up in it. He needed to see the Bridge for himself. And if it was real, he wanted to hide it from the world so no one could find out what the other side held. If he’d left the Case as-is, I predict he could have returned to Earth.”

I was thrumming with energy and glanced at the time. We were already thirty minutes late for the party.

Tripp finally drained his bourbon and frowned. “I’ve heard some wacky stories this month, but there’s something you seem to be discounting.”

“What’s that, Tripp?” Hunter asked.

“These Believers… I think they tracked Dirk and this other guy’s movements to Portugal. They found them with the Case and shot them, burying the bodies where no one ever located them.”

I pictured my dad standing in a cavern with the starlight pouring through the open-air porthole to the sky. I closed my eyes, imagining two men dressed in black, entering with guns raised: before any discussion erupts, they fire, killing Clayton and my father. The Case clinks to the stone floor.

“That can’t be. Why do we hold the Case? How did Luis have the Tokens?” I stood abruptly and headed for the door.

“Maybe Luis was in on it. One of the Believers?” Tripp suggested.

“No way,” Marcus interjected. “We were down there in Venezuela. If the Believers knew about him and the Case, don’t you think