Atlantis Chronicles: Prince of The Olympics

April 27 AM

Michael headed to the kitchen after the bathroom. Guy was still asleep on the cot.

“Well, there he is! Good Morning! Were the two of you up all night talking?” Mom was clearing some of last night’s dishes out of the dishwasher and into the cupboards.

“No, Ma. We talked maybe a few minutes. I don’t really remember. I was tired. Where’s Bill?” He tried to remember back to what they had talked about the night before, but it was too fuzzy, and it didn’t

seem important.

“He and Jason are working with Tony’s crew on a house in Port Angeles. They won’t be home until six.”

“Even on a Saturday?” Mom nodded. “Where’s Teresa?” he continued.

“Still in her room. How about blueberry pancakes for breakfast? I made some for Bill and Jason.” Mom grabbed a glass and headed to the fridge.

“That’d be great. Mind if I wait for Guy to wake up?”

“Well,” Mom filled the glass with OJ and handed it off, “He does seem to sleep a lot. You’d better get his parents’ number for me. And his clothes! I have no idea how to wash them!”

“Mom . . . Mom, it’s okay! Really! He’s an amazing guy! I just think he caught something when we were fishing . . . that wasn’t a fish, I mean. . . maybe a cold or . . . a virus. He’ll get better soon! I just want to let him sleep a while longer. In fact, I was kind of hoping we could go up to the park visitor center today. That’d get him out of bed. And Ma, why not just ask him about the clothes? He could even wear some of mine until we figure how to wash ’em.”

“So, how is Don? Did he catch the same crud Guy has?”

“I called him last night, ’cause he was out sick at school. Says he’s got a cold, and his hand was hurting, but that he expects to bounce back better than ever.”

“Car crashes always seem to mask the real injuries, you know. Poor dear!”

“No Mom, poor deer!” Just then, Teresa walked in.

“Good morning, Honey!”

“Good morning, Mom. Good morning, My-my! How’s the grades?”

“Any better and they’d name the school after me.” He replied. “Still calling me ‘My-my’ I see.”

“Yep. I figure if a two-year-old can, why can’t I?” Michael smiled at the memory of his cousin, Tayler’s, second birthday. She was just starting to speak. The word ‘Michael’ was way too much for her little tongue. ‘My-my,’ she could do.

“Could I interest you in some blueberry pancakes, princess?”

“Mom, that sounds heavenly!” Mom smiled and set about getting the process started. “So, My-my, tell me about your friend.”

“His name’s Guy Mann, and he lives up past Happy Valley somewhere. He was hiking and met up with Don and me as we were finishing our fishing.”

“The poor boy’s done nothing but sleep for the last two days!” Mom repeated as she set Teresa’s OJ on the table. “Car accidents just lay some folks low.”

“I see My-my made it out fine.” Teresa grabbed the paper, as Mom dropped some batter on the sizzling griddle.

“So, let me guess, you’re going to write a best seller, make millions, turn it into a movie, make more millions, and move to LA with your movie star wife,” Teresa teased.

“Na! Those Hollywood marriages never last. I think I’ll just bide my time ’til I’m legal, then I’ll win the powerball.”

“Great strategy for your future, pinhead!”

“Teresa! He’s joking!” scolded Mom.

“I know! So am I! Well, sort of.” Teresa’s laughter was cut short by the sound of the toilet down the hall. Mom grabbed extra plates and brought them to the table.

“Seriously, I have another year before I have to have a plan ya know?”

“True, but college is so expensive.” Teresa admitted. “What’re you gonna do for money?”

“Three things. I’ll use my wit, my charm, and my good looks.”

“Aah! The fifteen-year plan for an Associates degree!”

“Well, maybe you could put in a good word about me down at Hurricane Coffee.”

“Sorry My-my, maybe if you were a little taller, and had big dimples.”

“Oh! I’m not good looking enough for you, huh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to work with you, I’d get no tips! I hope your charm and wit are better than your good looks!”

“Ooh! Fine sister you turn out to be!” Through the laughter, They heard the bedroom door close.

Michael put down his juice, excused myself, and headed up the hall. When he opened the door, Guy was sitting on the cot, winding his legs up, as if to meditate. Michael gently closed the door behind him.

“How are you feeling, Guy?”

“Michael, I am recovering well. I will be ready to go soon.”

“Well, Mom has some blueberry pancakes cooking for us right now. Come on down into the kitchen. They’re delicious!”

“Marie, breakfast smells delicious! Thank you.” Guy said as the boys sat down at the kitchen table.

“You’re certainly welcome, Guy. Do you know my daughter, Teresa?”

“Oh! A daughter! Hello Teresa.”

“Hi, Guy. So, was it you, or Don that mowed down poor Bambi?” Guy stopped and stared, his face suddenly on fire. His mouth hung half open, a horrified look on his face.

“Actually, Teresa,” Michael interrupted, “Don was driving, and the deer actually walked away! It was just fine!” Michael placed a reassuring hand on Guy’s shoulder.

“Really?” Mom questioned. “Is that so? That is one lucky little deer, considering the way that truck looked.”

“Well, I think so. I seem to remember seeing it and it’s friends walk off. Don’t you Guy?”

“ . . yes. She did walk off. Bambi . . .” Teresa chuckled.

“Mom,” Michael asked, “Are you planning to head into Port Angeles this afternoon? Guy and I are thinking of going up to the visitor’s center at the park.” Mom brought over a platter full of blueberry pancakes, and put it in the middle of the kitchen table.

“No. Not today. Sorry Hon!”

Teresa and Michael grabbed immediately at the steamy hot cakes with their forks.

“I’m ashamed of you two!” scolded Mom. “Thank you, Guy, at least your mother taught you some decent manners!” Guy thanked her, and watched as she took the next two pancakes and placed them, and a pat of butter on a plate which she set in front of him. As usual, Teresa drowned her pancakes with syrup. Michael dowsed his with butter first. Guy sat back and watched the two devour their breakfasts.

“Would you like some syrup on your pancakes, dear?” Mom asked of him.

“Yes. I think I would.” He held the syrup bottle over his plate, but only a tiny drizzle came out. Teresa chuckled again.

“You have to squeeze it!” she instructed. A wave of syrup engulfed his plate. It was obvious that Teresa thought it terrifically funny, despite her attempt to stifle it.

“I am sorry! I am not used to this . . . kind.” Guy confessed.

“That’s all right.” Michael said, “Teresa still has more than you.” She stuck out her syrup covered tongue at him.

The family watched in silence as Guy hesitantly tried the pancakes, then devoured them both. He drank the juice with the same approach. But he refused seconds.

“So, Teresa, can you take Guy and me over to P.A. later?”

“Sorry, My-my. I’ll be heading in to work. You see, I need the money for college.”

“Well, Guy, it looks like we’ll be taking the bus. Could we at least borrow your laptop for a while Teresa? I want to show him a couple of web sites.”

“Is that all right, Mom?”

“Sure. As soon as you two clean up the kitchen”

“I’ll clear the table! You load the dishwasher, My-my.” The siblings started right away.

“While they’re doing that, Guy, will you give me a hand with those clothes of yours? They’re in the laundry room in the basement.” She led him down the steps, past the family room, and headed for the

basement. “I ran some warm water over them, and they ended up smelling like a wet dog. Are they a new fabric or something?” She headed for the sink, then handed him the clothes.

“No, Marie. They are nothing special. I have had this tunic for two years. I finished these leggings last fall.”

“Tunic? Leggings? You made them? How?” She grabbed the trousers and examined them closely.

“I wove the hairs together.”

“I’ll be! They are hairs! It must have taken you hours to do that?”

“Yes.”

X

“So, who is this guy?” Teresa whispered to Michael.

“It’s like I told Mom . . .”

“Baloney! He knows about as much about eating pancakes, and conversation as this dish does!”

“I . . uh . . I don’t know what you mean.” Teresa’s grin told Michael that she wasn’t buying it.

“Look, Teresa, go along with me on this. When I know more, I’ll tell you what I know.” She looked at him as he finished loading the dishwasher. When he stopped and looked at her.

“What really happened up there- with the fishing?”

“I was there, and I don’t know for sure! At least, not the whole story- and that is exactly what I want- the whole story.” They heard someone coming up the stairs.

“I’ll get that computer for you, My-my.”

X

“Guy? This is Teresa’s computer. I wanted to go online and show you a couple things. This is how we get our information. See, this hooks up with many computers around the world, thousands of them, so we can find almost anything we want to know about. For you, I was thinking of the Olympic mountains.”

Guy sat at the corner of the bed near Michael’s desk. He squinted as Michael called up the Olympic National Park web site.

“More letters I see.”

“Oh, right! You can’t read! I know, I’ll pull up a map, that will help.”

“Michael, will you teach me to read?”

“Well . . . sure, but it’s not really so simple. It’s a long, slow process.”

“It doesn’t have to be. If you are reading, and you allow me to reach in, it could be just minutes.”

“Reach in?”

“Touch minds.”

“You mean read my mind?”

“No. Not really. I would place my hands upon your head, then just watch as you practice your skill. I would watch you use that skill, and learn how to read from that. Other than my hands, you probably

would not even know I was there.”

“What should I read, a book?”

“You can read your ‘online.’” Michael scrolled down to the text on the park.

“Do you want me to read aloud, or to myself?”

“Which ever you would prefer.”

Guy stood, and leaned toward Michael as he started silently reading. Guy quietly, gently placed one set of fingertips about Michael’s forehead, and then his other along the left side of the head. In moments, Guy’s eyes began following Michael’s. By the end of the fifth paragraph, Guy’s voice was whispering the changes of inflection. By the end of the eighth, Guy let go of Michael’s head. Michael stopped reading and looked at Guy. He was now completely engrossed in the view screen. He even took over scrolling down to the bottom of the text. When he was done, he looked at Michael.

“Another amazing human invention.”

“Computers are cool, huh?”

“Yes . . . but . . . reading as well.”

“You’re amazing! I didn’t feel a thing! It takes us years to learn to read. We have to go to schools to do it. In fact, It won’t be summer break for over a month!”

“Michael, when you get out of your school, I would like you to visit me. I will teach you how we do things.”

“Cool! Where can I find you?”

“How about . . . up by Hurricane Ridge?” He pointed to the map on the screen.

“Great! June 10th it is! Is that where your people are? Hurricane Ridge?”

“No. We will have to do some hiking.”

“But you really grew up in a town up in the Olympics?”

“My brother and I did grow up in the Olympics. There is a community of us up there, though not a town or city. Many of my neighbors have known each other for a great many years.”

“How long?”

“Millennia.”

“Millennia? How old are you?”

“I am over one-hundred twenty of your years old. That is considered a young adult.”

“How old do your people get?”

“There is a woman in my community that is nearing nine thousand.”

“Wow! Nine thousand! You must use a different calendar than we do.” Michael chuckled. “So what’s your real name?”

“Mann ’n Dac Soulillelarri ’n Gabra’l.”

“Mandack solely la lar-ree in Gabriel?”

“That is very close, Michael. Please, names are not important to me. Continue calling me Guy Mann.” They turned back to the laptop.

“What does it mean? Your name?” Ventured Michael.

“Mann, son of Dac, second son of Gabra’l.”

“Yah! Didn’t you say you have a brother? What’s his name?”

“He is Rann’n”

“Does he still live up there with you?”

“No. He is an Ekahuei, a holy man. He does not stay with me.”

“Do you ever get to see him?”

“I will see him in six weeks, at Shrilandriel, the festival of our ancestors.”

“Shree land ree-el. Man, you guys have some tough words. Does everyone speak English in your community?”

“No. No one does. We are all very secretive. There are some Atlantean communities that mingle with humans, but in my community, few have had contact with humans since before the sailing ships

arrived. Well, that is until I came along.”

“Then how come you speak it?”

“I came across a boy in the mountains that taught me.”

“A boy like me?”

“Yes. His name was Brandon.”

“You’re some fast learner, Guy! Here’s something called a search engine. It can show you just about anything there is. This one is called ‘Google.’ If you type in a word like . . . I dunno, say . . .

UFOs, unidentified flying objects,” Michael typed it in, “It’ll show you lots of web sites that talk about it.” The search showed immediate results.

“These are web sites that are about Atlantis?”

“Yah, sure! But let’s narrow the search. How about Atlantis before the fall? Michael typed in ‘Atlantis destruction theories.’ The first ten of about three hundred thousand web sites came up.

“Here’s one that has a bunch of theories.” When the web site came up, both boys read silently. Michael found that Guy seemed to read at about his own speed. Scrolling wasn’t a problem. As they came to the end of the text, Guy seemed agitated.

“What’s wrong?”

“These are not accurate!”

“Really? Well, what happened?”

“Atlantis was attacked!”

“Really? By who?”

Guy shook his head. “It does not matter any longer.”

“It was us, wasn’t it? Other people? Humans?” Guy nodded.

“But how? Back then, how could humans sink a continent? There were no bombs big enough. We’re talking bows and spears here!”

“Michael, there are powers other than technology and science- even then.”

“Who was it? Who do you think attacked Atlantis? The Egyptians?”

“Not the Egyptians. It was the Druidics of the north, the Djitzutzu, and . . .” he turned toward the door, “the Xetmec.”

“Well, at least I’ve heard of the Druids before, but they were from Europe.”

“The Xetmecs,” said Teresa from the door, “I think they used to live in Mexico or South America. Maybe in the Caribbean as well.”

“Jeez, Teresa, you scared me!”

“Sorry, My-my. Just wanted to grab my laptop. I’ve gotta check my email.” She turned to Guy.

“Who were the Djitzutzu?”

“An empire from Western Africa.”

“Never heard of them.” She picked up the laptop from Michael, turned and walked out.

“I’m sorry, Guy. How much of our conversation do you think she heard?”

“Not much.”

“You heard her?”

“Yes.”

“Well, the bus to Port Angeles leaves in about fifty minutes. It takes thirty to walk to the bus stop. Are you ready to go to the Visitor’s center?”

“Yes, but may I have your backpack and a water bottle? Mine were lost.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I should’ve grabbed it. Will you be leaving from there?”

“Yes”