Un2Dead (Book One of the Un2Series)

A series of touches to the keypad set the hidden gears in motion. A metallic clang sounded within the wall a foot or so above their heads. The distant whirring of a turbine began seconds before the doors began to part. The ornate wooden panels slid slowly to the sides revealing the steel-clad concrete doors that actually secured the room. DeLeon tapped a code into a second keypad buried in the face of the vault. Another metal clang sounded, vibrating the floor beneath them. The impenetrable slabs parted with a sucking sound as the air pressure between rooms equalized. The smell of leather and aging manuscripts drifted into the hallway. Lights flickered and buzzed as shafts of light aimlessly awoke around the perimeter of the gallery. To the left of the entrance, a series of alcoves showcased artifacts

from eras past. Some appeared to be nothing more than fragments of pottery or scraps of wood. Others were pristine objects of art glistening with gilded edges and encrusted with precious stones. A seating area comprised of a well-worn sofa and winged-back chair had its back turned on the collection and faced a wall of bookcases brimming with volumes of knowledge on the opposite side of the room. DeLeon ushered the others into the room then stepped in behind them. The doors automatically closed behind them nearly catching DeLeon’s robe. The two turned, startled by the sudden closure.

“Just a little security feature. No one in or out without a pass code. The items in this room are irreplaceable.” DeLeon pushed past Wit and Joey and moved to the center of the room.

”The articles in this room are the result of my family’s tireless quest for immortality,” he continued “We have traveled to all four corners of this planet to investigate and procure any item that could hold even the smallest piece to the puzzle that is eternal life.”

DeLeon walked to an illuminated alcove partially enclosed with a sheet of glass and filled with water. He rapped lightly on its face calling an unusually large koi to its surface. It was roughly the size of a side of beef. DeLeon swirled the water above the fish’s head with his finger. It bobbed just beneath the surface following the finger as if it was suspended like a puppet. The lights in the alcove rippled across the metallic teal scales and translucent green fins as they churned the crystal clear water.

“Our fishy friend here is one of our first finds. We located him hidden away in a grotto on one of the islands of Bimini during the original quest for ‘The Fountain’.”

“You’re telling us that this fish has been around since the 16^th century?”

“Longer than that. This fish quite possibly pre-dates the dinosaurs. We have no way of knowing. It doesn’t age. I guess that’s one of the benefits you get when you live in the Fountain of Youth.” DeLeon gathered water in his cupped hand then poured it back into the tank.

“This is the Fountain of Youth?”

“This is as much water from the Fountain as we could carry. By the way, it was more like a lagoon.”

“So your family actually found the ‘Lagoon of Youth’? Mission complete right out of the chute?”

DeLeon sighed, “Yes and no. The water has its limitations. You will stay whatever age you are as long as you stay in the water. It forms a symbiotic link with whatever organism it surrounds. Great if you’re a fish. Not so much if you’re a man.”

“What happens if you drink it?”

“You just feel like you’ve had too much coffee. The feeling doesn’t really last too long. Besides, it tastes like a giant ancient fish has been shitting in it for centuries, although a slice of lemon helps. It does have some amazing healing qualities.”

DeLeon removed a dagger from a suit of armor displayed in a near-by alcove. He took its hilt in one hand and presented the blade across the open palm of his other. He began to hum a circus tune as he turned the blade to expose the reverse side and then back again. He slowly closed a hand around the blade and tightened his grip. He winced as he quickly withdrew the blade from his clenched fist. The razor sharp fin was spotless. He opened his hand and faced it toward the pair. Thin red lines slowly appeared across his palm and fingers. Droplets of blood began to bead along the length of the wounds. He clenched his fist again. Blood oozed from between his fingers and dripped down the side of his hand. He revealed his blood-soaked palm to Joey, then to Wit for their inspection. The gashes were deep and the blood spilled freely. He continued humming as he walked over to the tank and submerged his hand. A crimson cloud swirled out from the wounds then reversed itself as if it were a film running backward. A few seconds later DeLeon extracted his hand and thrust it triumphantly with a robust “Ta-Da” before an amazed Wit. Then he wiped his wet hand on Wit’s shirt.

“This is all quite fascinating, but what does the Ouroboros have to do with this?” Wit asked.

“Apparently, you don’t understand what the Ouroboros signifies.”

“Of course I . . . no, I don’t.” Wit realized he really didn’t know anything about the thing that had changed his life so many years ago.

“The Ouroboros is a snake shown eating its own tail, forming a continuous ring.” DeLeon mimed his words with his right hand acting as the snake’s head, swallowing the dagger in his left hand forming a ring with his arms. “Got it so far? Good. This represents cyclicality, especially in the sense of something being reborn as soon as its life ends, much like our friend the Phoenix that we were discussing earlier. The koi is continually regenerating. We expect the Pheacocks will do the same.”

Wit stared blankly ahead.

“Do I need to use smaller words?” DeLeon sighed.

“No. I got it. I’m still trying to wrap my arms around all of this.” Wit looked to Joey who had wandered off and was admiring the suit of armor. “Joey, is this making any sense to you? How does this affect our situation?”

Joey cleared his throat. His voice still cracked as he spoke. “I think you might begin to understand the situation if you step over here and take a look at this armor.” Joey stepped aside allowing Wit access to the alcove. DeLeon joined them, eager to curate the exhibit.

The collection consisted of the helmet, breastplate, sword, and shield, in essence, the pieces of armor that would define its wearer. The highly ornate details and lack of visible distress suggested that these pieces would have been worn only on special occasions. While they were not polished to a mirror-like finish they possessed brilliance you would associate with jewelry, not armor-plate. The crest that Wit had seen obscured by a flat screen monitor at the front gate gleamed proudly on the front of the shield. A tooled leather scabbard hanging from the edge of the shield held a sword designed for an explorer rather than a warrior. It was more likely used to trim vegetation than defend a man’s life. A second empty scabbard meant for the dagger hung just below. DeLeon stepped toward the armor and resumed his role as tour guide. He used the dagger as a pointer as he spoke.

“You see before you the crown jewel of our little collection, the armor belonging to Juan Ponce de Leon. A gift from a once powerful society to a man they worshiped like a god. Note the attention paid to each intricate detail that sets this piece apart from any other armor ever created. And right here in the center of the breastplate lies the key to your current dilemma.”

Positioned between the shiny silver pectorals in the same place you would find a superhero’s emblem, an embossed serpent swallowing its tail rose from the surface of the armor. A groove ran through the spine of the snake creating a track which held several small silver ingots inlaid with lapis and turquoise. The Ouroboros encircled an engraved sunburst. The rays radiated beyond the ring formed by the snake and stretched across the breastplate. The core of the sun was formed by a medallion containing the image of a fish and a bird intertwined as a yin-yang symbol. They too were inlayed with lapis and turquoise. The armor replicated the male anatomy from the shoulders to the bottom of the ribcage. At that point, the landscape became decidedly more aquatic. A series of three gill-like pockets ran down each side of the leather abdominal region of the armor. Each pocket tapered toward a crease that ran vertically through the midsection. Wit reached out and touched the gleaming vestment. DeLeon grimaced as he slapped his hand away.

“This glorious piece of hardware,” DeLeon continued,” turned out to be the single most valuable asset in our quest for eternal youth and for that matter, eternal life.” He pulled the cuff of his sleeve into his hand and used it to polish a smudge off of the right pectoral muscle on the breastplate. ”The funny part is, the immortality aspect of using the armor was an unintended side effect. It wasn’t the purpose of the suit at all.” DeLeon continued buffing areas on the armor, paying no attention to Wit and Joey. After a few minutes of silence Wit spoke up.

“Well, are you going to tell us what the actual purpose of the suit was?”

“Oh, sure. The suit allowed one to travel through time.” DeLeon answered nonchalantly as he continued to groom the armor. He waited for a gasp or some other sound of disbelief but none came. This left him a little disappointed and a little perturbed. “This doesn’t astound you?”

“It is amazing, really it is. I’ve seen so many fantastical things today that it doesn’t surprise me that you would have found a means to travel through time.”

“I guess I can accept that.” Deleon steered the two to the chairs facing the bookcases. He sat in a winged-back chair directly across from them.

“So a time traveling suit of armor possessed the power of eternal youth. How did the Ouroboros play a part in it?”

DeLeon held his hands forward and signaled Wit to slow down. “You first need to know a couple of time travel basics before you can understand the intricacies of its effect on aging. The most fundamental idea you need to understand is that everyone is born with an intended lifespan. Some cosmic force or supreme being, which ever you choose to believe, has decided that you should be born on a certain day and you should die on a certain day. I cannot stress how important this single fact is.”

“Predetermined lifespan. Got it.” Wit nodded.

“The second thing you need to know is when you travel through time you are stepping out of your lifespan momentarily, freezing what I like to refer to as your internal clock. Once you travel to another moment in time your internal clock resumes ticking. Do you understand?”

Wit thought for a moment. ”So if I were to shoot two hundred years into the future at age twenty-one, I would arrive there at that age and resume aging.”

“Bright boy. That rule applies to all time travel except for one scenario. Remember how I told you that you are born with an intended lifespan? If you travel within that span of time you will age accordingly. You jump ahead five years, you are five years older.”

“Why is that?”

“It has to do with the fact that you are a singular, unique being. Only one of you can exist within a given time. If you move around within your own lifespan you are simply moving to a point where you are older or younger than you are now. You end up fast forwarding or rewinding through your life. It kind of defeats the purpose of being able to travel through time, doesn’t it? So, time for a little quiz. Given what I have told you, how does the suit act as a source of eternal youth?”

Wit put on his thinking cap but Joey’s hand was already waving wildly in the air. DeLeon acknowledged the man with the frantic arm gestures.

“This means that if you choose to live in a time period outside of your intended lifespan you could periodically travel to a time within your own lifespan to reset your internal clock then return to that new time period at the age you left your own time period. You just keep resetting the clock.”

DeLeon held his finger to his nose. ”Ding, ding, ding, ding!”

Wit gave Joey a high five.

“So now that we understand the workings of the suit can we get to the Ouroboros thing?”

DeLeon got up from his chair and walked over to the bookcases. He touched each volume he passed with the dagger as he scanned their spines. He slid the blade between two of the manuscripts to free both his hands in order to remove a book of significant size. The leather cover was tooled with the same sunburst designs as the breastplate. DeLeon propped it against the back of the winged-back chair as he leafed through the hand-written sheets of parchment that made up its interior. He stopped about a third of the way through. Carrying the open book to the couch, he motioned with his head for one of them to make room for him. He turned and wedged himself in the center of the sofa between Wit and Joey.

What lay before them could best be described as a scrapbook. The pages of the book were torn,

yellowed and covered with notes and sketches. Miscellaneous scraps of paper and cloth with additional writings and doodles were affixed with bits of wire or stitched with thread. This section of the book centered on reptiles, mainly lizards and snakes. DeLeon pointed to a large diagram near the top of the page.

“The power source of the suit is what you might call ‘elemental.’ Earth, air, fire, and water are combined in the core of the breastplate. We had secured the water element, the koi; the Pheacocks were a twofer, giving us the air and fire. The turquin viper was to be the earth element. It took many years to locate this very rare species. Then we had to find someone capable of caring for it until the time was right. So much for that.” DeLeon sighed in a way that made Wit’s stomach sink.

“We . . . . I didn’t . . . .” Wit started to apologize but was cut off by a wave of DeLeon’s hand.

“What happened was not your fault. I don’t hold anything against you.”

He slowly closed the book and rose to his feet. He casually returned the book to its place on the bookshelf. He patted the book’s spine until it sat flush with the others on the shelf. He removed the dagger from between the neighboring tomes and in one fluid motion flipped it, grabbed it by the blade and flung it in the direction of the sofa. The dagger buried itself in upholstery up to its hilt directly between Wit and Joey. It happened so quickly that neither of them jumped until it would have been too late.

“See? That didn’t even come close to hitting either of you!” he laughed.

The two remained motionless, hunched over in identical poses like bookends.

“Now boys, that was just a bit of steam that had built up over the past twenty-five years. We’re good, seriously.” DeLeon patted Wit across his shoulders as he regained composure. “Come with me. We’ll grab a bite and discuss your matter at length.”

DeLeon guided the pair back to the gallery doors. The three stood facing them like they were riding in an elevator as he typed the security code into the keypad.

“Mr. Witmoore?”

“Yes?”

“You know how I said I wasn’t angry with you about the snake?”

“Uh huh.”

“I lied.”

The whoosh of air as the doors opened was followed by the sensation of being jerked forward as Wit’s feet left the floor.