---

“Where’s your Commanding Officer?” Thornton’s distant nasally midwestern voice inquired with detached vehemence.

I often pictured him sitting in some lonesome prairie house on a dirt farm, even though his actual surroundings consisted of an array of blue, green, red, and yellow Christmas lights, broken up by buzzed or tightly bunned heads blocking the glow of computer monitors.

“Had an errand to run in town.”

“Did he review his role before leaving?”

“Yes,” I answered. Thornton was referring to the ‘story consistency checks’ we’d do, to make sure locals unbound by NDA’s thought that our periodic trips into town were just stops along the way between home and our relatives. We didn’t go into town very often so it worked pretty well.

“Purpose?”

“Needed a new PVC pipe, been having some plumbin’ issues.” I lied.

“Major Baird, you were provisioned with a full years supply of repair and maintenance tools and materials.” He called my bluff.

“Alright Colonel, alright, we ran out of Jack.”

“You have a very interesting job, Major. Why compromise it?”

“Interesting! Colonel, there’s nothing out here but owl shit and ghosts and believe it or not chemistry and psychology do lose their luster after coupla months. Even if we’re paid to trip balls. The hamsters get tired no matter how psychedelic the maze. Need the formula. The formula happens to be Jack…and we happen to be out!”

“Stop, prevaricating Major.”

“I was not prevaricating sir.”

“Did Lieutenant Monroe inform you of the purpose of this call?”

I looked at Sam who now that I had had time for the fog of sleep to fully dissipate, looked decidedly nervous.

“No, sir please elucidate.”

“There are three unauthorized parties on your premises.”

“Nah, Schmidt left, it’s just me Sam, Chuck, and Hoyt.”

“Unless you’ve grown extra legs….” Thornton let his comment trail off into the air of a sarcastic question.

‘Shit!’ I thought as it dawned on me. ‘Shit! The damned strips! I’d forgotten the floors were coated with electromagnetic dust. Basically an electrochemical gumshoe affair. Right now he was probably looking at a computer readout on a screen in Langley or whatever godforsaken black site he was haunting.

‘…wait…SHIT!’

“Location.”

“Kitchen – 4 pair, com station 2 pair, Lab – 1 pair.”

“Target acknowledged, standby,” I said reaching for my cell phone.

I tried to use the app I’d written to lock the lab door.

‘Localhost..80…what….’ I tried frantically to wrap my mind around it… ‘fuck’ …. nothing was working.

I turned to Sam. “Cover me.”

God damn it where was my sidearm…

“Fuck!” I yelled under my breath as I ran to my bedroom.

Grabbing the Sig from the holster I wheeled around to Sam.

He was just standing there unnerved.

“To arms man! Tallyfucking ho…come on!”

He just pointed upstairs with a pained expression.

The Lab was upstairs to avoid groundwater contamination.

“Fuck!” My whisper was loud. “Ok, just stay behind me, there’s only one man.”

“I know it’s cold, but it’s so sunny outside! We should hike to take the edge off.” I said as naturally as possible as we ascended the stairs. But no matter how artfully rendered a trick how precisely loud so as to inform but not alarm the intruder… Something to make him lay low enough to isolate, suppress, and apprehend him…it was too late.

I heard heavy footfalls coming towards us fast.

Thump, thump, thump, before I could raise my pistol in defense…before my “On the ground!” was anything more than an “Ahnn….” I felt a sharp pain in my gut, it was sickening, instantly nauseating, felt like that thing when you loop over the swing as a kid but fucking painful. I tumbled backward into Sam and we rolled down the stairs.

As I was getting up on my elbows and knees dry heaving, I saw a black heavy boot swinging at my face. Suddenly before the moment of truth, it was yanked away. Sam had gotten the bastards leg. I was still dry heaving and couldn’t help him. As I rose to my feet I saw Monroe get a vicious kick to the shoulder and he released his grip.

The man who I now noticed was large, unusually so, ran toward an egress that I knew was locked. ‘Gotcha bitch’ I thought to myself as I got to my feet tasting bile and readying my pistol.

He had some distance on me. But I could still hear him. As I rounded the corner to the door that led to the back porch I saw him produce something that looked like a taser. He zapped the electric door lock and threw his prodigious weight against it.

I could hardly believe what I was seeing. He was out the door. I fired. Missing in my pain and confusion…the bullet lodging in the doorframe.

“Give me the fucking gun!” Sam yelled coming up behind me.

I watched him run through the door after the man, firing carefully in doubles, but we were too late, the giant dove into a running dark green Ford sedan and was gone.

---

1.1 (Intro) The Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

1.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

1.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.7: ‘Jesse’

1.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.8: ‘Lungful of Bees’

1.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.9 – ‘Precedent’

2.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.0 -Calvinist Neuroses

2.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.1 – Mirage

2.2 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.2 – Estate Planning

2.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.3 – High Tech Summons

2.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.4 – Amazon Stonehenge

2.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.5 – Jung

2.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.6 – Dee

2.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.7 – Meeting 211

2.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.8 – Itinerary

2.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.9 – Fact and Fiction

2.10 Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.10 -Kaffeeklatsch

2.11 Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.11 – Catnap

---

“I knew I smelled Java,” Chuck said boisterously as he made a beeline for the pot.

“Dear god, I’m too old for these sorts of marathons.” Doctor Pearce remarked, popping his back.

Graham was silent, placid even, given his recent eager shenanigans, I had half expected another barrage of reasons for leaving post haste. But, they never came.

My headache was dissipating, nonetheless, I was in no mood to play chef this morning.

“Well! There’s the fridge, there’s the pot, you know what to do.” I declared and trooped off to take a hot shower.

On my way to the stairs, I stopped by Schmidt’s room and told him to drive the yokel back to town. He groaned but assented.

There was no need for that kid to be here, there was a lot of weirdness to unravel, and he’d just further complicate matters. I was concerned he’d talk, but even if he did the Rotary club types of the town, or what passed for them in Foley anyway, were all under NDA’s and already knew. For added security, I told Schmidt to scare the shit out of him on the drive back. His wry smirk was all the confirmation I needed.

It was good. It was good to stave off the cold. I appreciated the steam coming from the showerhead. One hell of a water heater, one of those things that made me wonder, why someone so rich would build a place like this, in Foley…

The thought disappeared as I was enveloped in warmth. There were a lot of headaches ahead and I made certain to take adequate time to let my muscles relax. Bodily tension leads to mental tension which leads to fuzzy thinking. This was no time for fuzzy thinking.

I was good at this, too good, and soon dozed off.

The sound of running water and the pressure of the drops on my head…the warmth…I awoke under a waterfall. The sound of exotic birds echoed all around. And there was a pervasive nearly unbearable humidity.

I looked to my left. As the water struck stone it produced a fine steamy mist which was falling on my face. I hopped to my feet which I noticed were bare.

The soil was black, soft, and spongy, the air redolent with flora. Vast trees with great trunks stretched up and away on either side of the river near which I’d been napping.

Despite myself, I knew my purpose, at least my legs did, I strode with confidence into the dark line of trees.

The atmosphere beneath the actual canopy was entirely different. Though I could still hear the sound of the waterfall tumbling down behind me there was a muffling effect. It was like being wrapped in some subtle sort of filter that wouldn’t permit anything inessential to enter the mind.

Despite the occasional cry of a bird or monkey, there was a solemn sort of silence. I proceeded further into the forest my feet adept at dancing round roots and other impediments. My eyes sharp for speckled bands or leaves sitting where they should not be.

After some time. I came to a line of rocks pointing like fingers in every direction. Some towards the sky, some to the east, some to the west, and in the midst of these there sat a man with bronze skin. He was older and stretched in front of him was some kind of array of multi-colored strings with little knots at odd places up and down the length.

As I approached, the elder looked up from his work and said in a loud clear voice,

“Baird! Baird! Stop jerking off already!”

He sounded exactly like Sam.

“Baird! Thorton is on the phone.”

‘Oh shit.’

---

1.1 (Intro) The Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

1.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

1.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.7: ‘Jesse’

1.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.8: ‘Lungful of Bees’

1.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.9 – ‘Precedent’

2.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.0 -Calvinist Neuroses

2.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.1 – Mirage

2.2 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.2 – Estate Planning

2.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.3 – High Tech Summons

2.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.4 – Amazon Stonehenge

2.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.5 – Jung

2.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.6 – Dee

2.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.7 – Meeting 211

2.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.8 – Itinerary

2.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.9 – Fact and Fiction

2.10 Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.10 -Kaffeeklatsch

 

---

I awoke from a deep dreamless sleep to the sound of chirping birds. A sunbeam danced through the window to land on the wood panel floor. Motes of dust glimmering in its wake.

It was cold. Despite the best efforts of a powerful central heating system, my lower level room fell prey to the biting sting of a Kentucky spring.

I buried my face in the pillow and pulled two thick blankets over me.

Lucas, Sam, and I had taken three rooms on the first floor. It was a security thing. Even though I’d rather hear an intruder than be caught off guard I’d considered moving upstairs more than once. Hot air rises and I could just picture Graham, Chuck, and our guests all warm and snug.
Meh…I flipped the covers off and set my fortuitously besocked feet on the chilly floor. Just like with water it’s better to dive in. I made a beeline for the kitchen.

As usual, I had no idea what in all solemn hell was going on, I just knew that I had to make coffee and eat something fat and now!

I rinsed out the dirty pot and filled it to the top. After adding the grounds and flipping the switch on I pulled the cream cheese from the fridge. Post toasting a couple of bagels to perfection I smeared thick gobs of the cheese on it. It was unholy.

I was always ravenous in the morning. Ravenous and cold.

As I turned round to head back towards the kitchen table I was surprised.

“Bahh…who the fuck…”

It took nearly a minute to recognize Officer Fabre. Slowly last nights events crept back into my mind.

“Aren’t you worried about your precinct?” I asked right as I took a greedy bite of bagel.

“Eh…com ci com ca, in a town this size, the deputies can handle it. I told them I might be gone for a couple of days.”

“Really, you expected to be gone that long.”

“Potentially. But I am not worried about that. Right now I am worried about the crime that is my empty stomach.”

“You and me both,” I said between bites. “No donuts here, though…this kitchen’s only big enough for one pig.”

“Now where’s all that famous southern hospitality?”

“That don’t kick in till a more godly hour,” I said opening the fridge grabbing a half-empty packet of cheese slices and throwing it to my guest.

“Uhh..thanks…”

“Yeah, no problem, figure it out, I need to find some damn aspirin.”

I pulled open a drawer and pulled out a couple.

“Jesus Christ you’re just like papa…” He said.

“Huh…?”

“You chewed them….”

“Well, yea it’s quicker that way.”

Officer Fabre shook his head.

“Aren’t you at all concerned about your liver? Dialysis isn’t fun.”

“Eh…I only get like this maybe once or twice a year…when I’m bored…other time I’m a real fucking Nazi just like these pills here.”

“Huh…”

“Bayer…aspirin…Nazis…and most of the year I’d put any West Coast fascist to shame with my trendy ketogenic diets and other shit.”

“How are you bored out here. Doing all this damned voodoo?”

“Well, because it’s bullshit,” I responded taking a huge swig of coffee.

“Come again…isn’t the government paying for this research.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s government-sponsored bullshit.”

There was an odd silence.

“O come on…you’re a public servant as well…”

“Yeah, but everything that’s just happened…”

“Well, this stuff with Graham and the TV, etc..” It was all flooding back to me. “It’s strange, but stuff like this does happen, Jung, attributed the mystic label Synchronicity to it. Dunno how it works but ehh…mostly it’s bullshit and confirmation bias. I’m not really a skeptic but I’m not really a believer either.”

“So you don’t believe in what you’re doing?”

“No, I do. I just don’t think it’s magic. I think we’re here to figure out why symbols and chemicals do what they do and then weaponize it.”

“You’re a creepy son of a bitch.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s not a compliment.”

I rubbed my temples. “Look, I know you’re officer yokel… down to earth…. independent-minded etc… whatever…do you understand…that…it hasn’t been much longer than a half-century since people were still hanging each other…in public…with the cheering approval of the masses…who watched…it takes quite the son of a bitch to know about the mechanics of that sort of business. So yea, thanks.”

“Where’s the coffee cups?”

I pointed to the cupboard on my right and watched Fabre pour himself a cup.

He was a big guy. Probably ex-military himself.

“So how was the Gulf?”

He cocked his head. “How’dya know?”

“Just a guess: age, build, gait.”

He just kind of looked at me.

“So, the point of me asking was. You remember how the Iraqis or Persians or fucking whatever behaved…”

“Pretty damned civilized actually.”

“Yeah, until it came time for discipline, you recall right..”

“Sure, but war is war.”

“Peacetime wasn’t much different.”

“I don’t know. Aren’t you the one that’s supposed to tell me to be less xenophobic… whippersnapper?”

“Race, ethnicity, nationality, even faith, that’s not the issue. Limited resources, underdeveloped legal structures, no matter how enlightened a civilization …fault lines will occur. Iraq, hell even Afghanistan, is not as different from the United States and Western World of a few decades ago. Even though we had the enlightenment it took years for its best effects to blossom. Like I said it was only a half-century or so ago that we were still hanging people publicly.”

“It was a little longer than that. I remember from the Academy. It was the 1930’s.”

“Sure, officially…in the States…”

“So this justifies brainwashing, manipulation…”

“Guidance,” I said coldly.

“You say tomato I say tomahto.”

We were silent for a bit, sipping coffee, and watching the sunlight bounce off the trees outside.

“So, what did Graham say to you?”

The officer looked a tad taken aback, it was obviously something he’d rather forget.

“Like I said… he told me the gator is waiting.”

“Ok…and what does that mean exactly.”

“Well…in the Bayou..when a gator crawls under your house…it’s considered a sign that someone is about to die.”

“Heh.” I chuckled. “Isn’t someone always about to die?”

“Yeah, but the fact that he knew about it, that he spoke Coonass…and…and…he told me about Jean.” Fabre looked so nervous that I didn’t really want to push him but curiosity got the best of me.

“Who’s Jean?”

Before he could answer, Graham, Chuck, and the Doctor all trooped into the kitchen.

---

1.1 (Intro) The Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

1.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

1.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.7: ‘Jesse’

1.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.8: ‘Lungful of Bees’

1.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.9 – ‘Precedent’

2.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.0 -Calvinist Neuroses

2.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.1 – Mirage

2.2 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.2 – Estate Planning

2.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.3 – High Tech Summons

2.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.4 – Amazon Stonehenge

2.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.5 – Jung

2.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.6 – Dee

2.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.7 – Meeting 211

2.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.8 – Itinerary

2.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.9 – Fact and Fiction

 

---

“Yar!” Lucas screamed.

I caught his gist.

“Is that wher da gol’ doobloons lie!”

Graham was surprisingly nonplussed given his recent raving.

“Well, the city this leads to was reputed to have been built from gold.”

“The old Eldorado gag…” Chuck snorted derisively.

“Fact and fiction often intermingle, especially in very old matters,” Graham replied matter of factly.

“Let me see the map.” Doctor Pierce chimed in.

Graham handed him the map, “Be careful, even though it’s a copy, it is a hundred and thirty years old.”

“Hmm…” Pierce exhaled examining the document.

“It’s a very localized map. Obviously showing some tributary of the Amazon. If I had to guess this is somewhere in the south-west, probably near Bolivia.”

“Aha, that’s exactly where it is.”

“Mmmhmm…I guess you were right about fact and fiction often mixing. The reason I’m able to offer that up is boyhood reading. There was a series of adventure magazines that my father had delivered to Boston in order to encourage literacy. That area was the setting of a serial fictionalization in ‘Intrepid’ of Colonel Fawcett’s quest.”

Boston, so he must be some offshoot of the last of the Brahmin. His nearly British intonations were nothing like the folksy brogue typical of the region. This fresh factoid accounted spectacularly for much of his demeanor.

I noticed that my eyelids were very heavy.

“We may very well find Fawcett or his bones there,” Graham replied.

“Well that would be very interesting indeed, many have tried, what makes you so sure of this map. Did it belong to Fawcett?”

“Hardly. It predates the man by some three hundred years.”

“Oh, and whose map was this then, was it Friar Carvajal’s?”

“You have a good memory doctor, but no, this is the map my uncle nicked from the museum. The cartographer was far less public then that clergyman.”

“Who then?”

“I honestly don’t know, but my uncle was in such a great deal of trouble over what most had thought was a college prank, a man of his station and promise would usually get a lot of leeway at the time. This was not the case. Very nearly ruined the family and was a large part of the reason why my father immigrated to America.”

“Hm, so I’m guessing this thing was not on display. It was in an archive right?”

“That’s correct. He only knew of it because of his studies of ethnography. I don’t know why he actually wanted to steal it though. I am here repeating my father. He could just as easily have copied it. Or perhaps not. Very strange. Because even after posting bail my father recalls that the family home was subject to many rummagings and very grim folk would come knocking by to grill ‘mad Henry.’”

All this talk of lost cities and stolen maps was like something out of a storybook and I realized that I was dozing off. Whatever more we could gather wouldn’t be much good. None of us were in a state to pay attention much less to make any sort of decision.

I held up my hand. “Look. This is all very fascinating but I for one am tired and judging by the fact that three of you are asleep, I say we turn in and re-examine this come morning…or afternoon.”

Graham seemed annoyed momentarily but there was a confidence to him now. I think he felt he’d won our interest.

“Agreed,” Lucas said.

I got about the business of finding bunks for our guests.

---

1.1 (Intro) The Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

1.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

1.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.7: ‘Jesse’

1.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.8: ‘Lungful of Bees’

1.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.9 – ‘Precedent’

2.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.0 -Calvinist Neuroses

2.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.1 – Mirage

2.2 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.2 – Estate Planning

2.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.3 – High Tech Summons

2.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.4 – Amazon Stonehenge

2.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.5 – Jung

2.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.6 – Dee

2.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.7 – Meeting 211

2.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.8 – Itinerary

---

Suggested Reading 

https://www.geographicus.com/P/AntiqueMap/NEAmericaGore-coronelli-1688

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Percy_Fawcett

 

 

 

---

Graham stopped the recording here and returned to his seat.

We were all waiting for some kind of explanation. It never came.

“Uh…Hoyt? What was that about?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious!” Graham snapped.

“No.” I said wryly.

“We have to go to Brazil!”

He said it with such certitude that we couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What’s so funny!” Graham demanded. “The thing is clear as day! He’s drawn it!” He expostulated pointing a finger at Sam. “He’s drawn it and whatever had a hold of me earlier has even played the Tele for us! And about…what…about bloody Brazil…so we have to go…and soon…because…because…” He was kind of breathless. Sinking back into the mahogany leather he released strange little wheezes.

I was about to ask if he was alright but his former odd placidity returned right as I opened my mouth.

We all waited for him to continue building his case for a trip to Brazil. It never came.

“The Tele…?” Lucas inquired. “Bloody…? Have you been watching too much Top Gear again?”

Yeah, I thought to myself. It was a really odd word choice for our all American giant.

“Look…” Graham said palming his face. “Look, the thing’s thrown itself on us…Unification…the answer…don’t tell me this dream hasn’t been peaking through our dim eaves…tapping…trying to get our attention…and finally a word slips through..and you would all align in denial. What utter claptrap, what nonsense, you..you Philistines!”

“Relax man, relax, I’m not against going to Brazil, but there’s no way we’re going to just up and fly on your word. Thorton wouldn’t have it. There’s so much volatile stuff on site. We need adequate reason. So you’d better get a grip and elaborate. Else, we go nowhere…” I stated firmly.

“We’ll have to begin in Cuiabá. It will all fall into place there. That’s where it will make sense…”

“It has to make sense now, Graham,” Lucas interjected.

“Alright! Look…what was that newscaster talking about?”

I’d almost forgotten about the ‘News of the Weird’ segment that had come on the ‘tele.’ This reminder led me to recall the record that had just played. It was very strange how things kept slipping back out of my conscious attention. Then again I had been drinking and awake for nearly a day now.

“So what was that a recording of anyway?” I asked.

“I’ll get to that! But look I don’t think I have to. They turned on the television! You saw it. You were all here. You were privy!”

His eyes were alight with indignation.

“Amapá!Calçoene! Amazon Stonehenge! What does it suggest you utter Pillocks?! Eh….”

We all just stared. His voice was becoming more foreign by the minute. The usual mellow tenor was too crisp…

“No takers?! Figures, thick, thick as the Styx. BRAZIL! BRAZIL! BRAZIL! The jaguar in Sam’s picture what was it next to? Monoliths right…what was on the Tele…monoliths…right…hmmm….yes…?!”

“Sure. But what would we do there? What’s the M.O.? You know Thorton’s ‘operating definitions.’”

“You understand it would all end there right. All these little Physics right! Hmm…no..no…much too thick…like tar they are…boggy sodding fuck…right…yea..gotta make them see..eh…got to…ok I’ll tell you what…hmm mmm o mmmm,” He was teetering under his breath, “I will…so you have to see for yourselves… a trip to the Shuttle then. Now!”

‘The Shuttle’ was our ‘place and setting’ it was where we did our transcendental work. I wasn’t about to go there on a whim.

“We’re not moving till you explain what that record was.”

“Look…I uh…oooo…I have to piss….!” He sprang up from his seat and was gone.

We were all dumbfounded. No one spoke. Fortunately, it wasn’t terribly long before he returned.

“I don’t know what that record is! He cried. I just know the vision I know the voice. It’s….it’s something of my late uncle’s something my father left me when he died. I’d always been told to stay clear of uncle Henry. He was the black sheep of the clan you see. Got into some kind of trouble thieving some sort of thing from the Museum of London. Bad reputation..bad…always up to something..always stoned..but there’s this record which I’ve played only once before..sounded like utter gibberish at the time…but now it all makes sense…I’m glad I kept it out of interest out of filial duty. Now we know…we know…”

“We know what exactly?”

I was still confused.

He was still standing at the threshold of the sitting room. Gently swaying like a drunk but with more rhythm. Given his height, the motion had a strange serpentine sinuous sort of quality. I actually think I’d seen my autistic nephew do something similar.

“We know that we must go to Brazil! To Cuiabá! We must go: and this is how you will explain it to Thorton. We must go because there is medicine there and an academic who will know exactly what we’re on about! Name’s Senhor Palis! He’ll be thrilled to see this….”

Graham crossed the floor to the record player, picked up the sleeve from the record he’d put on, and produced from it a sheet of yellow paper. Holding it aloft dramatically he scanned our faces with searching eyes.

“Uh…and what is that ya got there…”

“The map he’s been looking for.”

---

1.1 (Intro) The Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

1.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

1.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.7: ‘Jesse’

1.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.8: ‘Lungful of Bees’

1.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.9 – ‘Precedent’

2.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.0 -Calvinist Neuroses

2.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.1 – Mirage

2.2 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.2 – Estate Planning

2.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.3 – High Tech Summons

2.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.4 – Amazon Stonehenge

2.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.5 – Jung

2.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.6 – Dee

2.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.7 – Meeting 211

---

It was kind of funny. He just stood there holding the record.

“Uh, what’s up there Hoyt?”

Wordlessly, he traversed the floor to the record player he’d set up when he’d moved in. He put the record on. With his finger still on the play button, he said, “I want you to listen to this. I want you to listen to this in its entirety. Then, we can talk.”

“Errr….ok…” Lucas assented.

We heard the click of the button.

At first, there was nothing but a faint crackle. The recording seemed to be fairly old.

Then a voice, sort of deep and dreamy, with an English accent, “Threes, and threes, and symmetries, folded here amongst the trees, whose roots run deep, let us attend and keep, the royal trane, pierce the veil of the mundane, drink deep from cup, and let’s go up!”

There was a moment’s crackly silence and then a resounding gong.

Then a woman’s voice, also British, “This cup is said to hold our dreams, but they are not, they are more real things, then the paltry schemes of geometry, bless and drink, with threes to free!”

There was something like the faint sound of slurping but mostly silence.

“Now laying back upon the velveteen divans we dream realities in lucidities of how reality most true belongs.”

There was a long silence. As per Graham’s instruction, no one interrupted.

Then the deep voice again except less dreamy. “Cambridge Gable Scene, Henry Hoyt – Theosophist Grade, October twenty-second, Nineteen Sixty Seven, meeting two hundred and eleven, the fifth delivery.”

Silence again.

“What tale brother, what tale do you carry, what story in the house of ought and was, have you acquired? Tell now, tell now, for it is most pressing, most required.” It was a different woman this time though no less British.

I’d heard Cambdrige, so by this point, I had figured that this was somewhere on that campus in England. Probably one of those little psychedelic clubs that had sprung up like weeds round that time. I held off on inquiring as per Graham’s request.

“I have dreamt of a strange reality, and now recount, what’s been seen, from divine vantage post trekking up the holy mount.”

“Tell, tell, tell, tell, tell, tell, tell,” Came seven different voice in responsorial refrain.

“I’d awoken amongst a great leafy mess. All about me were strange primeval huts and a sort of garret. There was the impression of roads intersecting into the clearing of the vast forest I found myself in. Some primitive approached me. He was apparelled in the head and coat of a jaguar.

Now I noticed that all round us were many men and women of as a primitive a race as this their apparent chief who stood before me. He gazed into my eyes in a laughing sort of way as the lyric and highly musical chants of his subjects caressed our ears. Then it was that I conceived him as a vast bipedal jaguar with great yellow eyes. And the whole scene shifted.

I felt as a thought, rather than heard, the instruction. ‘This is how it was.’

I was standing in a vast city amongst citizens who strode its smoothly cobbled pavement utterly unshod. They were apparelled in light blue tunics that truncated just above the knee. In appearance, they seemed to be an odd admixture of races though the features were primarily European. The general color of their heads was a sort of reddish brown.

Great lights would ascend and descend in plazas and atop great pyramids in the Mesoamerican style. The general atmosphere was one of mellow ecstasy. Everyone seemed to be engaged in some vast purpose but without hurry or any of the usual trepidations of responsibility.”

Then the thought voice came again, “Then came the El.”

Again the universe shifted though not as dramatically. I was still in the same strange hoary city. There was however a myriad of subtle and not so subtle differences. The streets were rougher, the tunics were some sort of tribal wear, and there was a sick feeling of fear in the air. The atmosphere was so oppressive in some unidentifiable sense that I nearly wept.

I also noted that not only had the lights stopped ascending and descending but mixed in with the odd heterogenous folk of the city were beings of the most repellant aspect. Some were like vast anthropoid lizards with sickly cunning serpent eyes, others were like malnourished men of diminutive stature. The latter walked beside official-looking persons, seemingly instructing them, I say this because the officials would nod, and the ghastly things would point with their strange, grey, thin limbs.

I wanted to get out of there as quickly as I could. It seemed that something had felt my revulsion and decided on mercy. I was again sitting in the jungle clearing that I’d first found myself in. Though this time there were no people. There was only a large black jaguar, dreaming, with half-open eyes atop a stone in front of me.

The thought voice came again.

‘You have seen what some in your Kalpa have called Agartha though of course, it is not in the center of the Earth! Yes, you have seen the coming of the El! You have seen them… the mechanics of Set who affixes spirit into matter.

They have rebelled against their purpose and whispered strange things to your ancestors. A promise was made, a promise of false immortality, as if physic was so grand a thing, that one would wish dust to remain animate forever…!!???

The promise is of course sealed in electric blood, this gravity, the resultant black hole to put it in a metaphor more graspable for your primitive sorcerer’s brain, has set your story on its current trajectory. You must make a record of our meeting. For there is a purpose in this that is beyond your span.’

And so it was that I awoke upon the divan.

“Heard, heard, heard, heard, heard, heard, heard,” again came the seven voice in responsorial refrain.

---

1.1 (Intro) The Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

1.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

1.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.7: ‘Jesse’

1.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.8: ‘Lungful of Bees’

1.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.9 – ‘Precedent’

2.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.0 -Calvinist Neuroses

2.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.1 – Mirage

2.2 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.2 – Estate Planning

2.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.3 – High Tech Summons

2.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.4 – Amazon Stonehenge

2.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.5 – Jung

---

Everybody was silent.

“Who turned on the TV?” The doctor asked.

No one responded.

“That’s funny,” I said pulling out my phone, “that formation, what did they call it…Amazon…and then the name of that famous thing in England…uh…”

“Stonehenge,” Lucas responded.

“Yeah,” I plugged the name into my phone.

“Hm, well there it is.” I remarked. “Looks just like the thing in Sam’s picture….”

I passed the phone around.

Everybody’s face registered recognition besides the faces of our three guests.

 

Graham’s response was strongest. He seemed to exult at seeing it only to return to the offputting laconic haughtiness of the past few hours.

“Sam’s picture?” Fabre asked.

“Yeah, it’s actually why we came to town.”

“Huh…?”

“Well, part of our project here is the use of hallucinogens, chants, and archetypal imagery. We’re studying the potentialities of what Jung called the collective unconscious. Earlier this afternoon we’d been engaged in ‘fire stoking’ which is a sort of call and response according to a certain Pythagorean ratio while loaded on mushrooms and absinthe.”

“Far out man…” Doc Pierce quipped.

“…Anyway, generally, one of us is moved to some form of expression. In this iteration, Sam was the one that had felt the pull. He sketched out some kinda weird jungle scene with this jaguar lying on a stone near a megalith that looks like the one we just saw. Normally, we would record the event and match its contents with others derived from the ‘stoking’ method. We search for things like continuity and coherency. You’d be surprised at how intelligible and teasing these things are…” My eyes got a little distant.

“So…”

“Well, so this time we couldn’t record anything, cause the moment old lanky Hoyt over there got a gander at it he spazzed out. And well…you know the rest…”

Our guests took a while to process the information.

“I’d like to see the picture.”

“It’s in the den.” I said rising to fetch it.

Before I made my way down the stairs I rounded back to the kitchen.

Just as I’d thought…

There was Jesse’s gun. It was a revolver. Smith and Wesson model 66 with four .357 magnum bullets in the chambers. You could definitely take down a pig with this. The big gun is what had given me that off feeling after my first trip to the kitchen. I picked it up and took it with me on my journey down to the den.

There it was, still laying on the table beside the couches we were sitting on.

I picked it up and turned on the overhead light comparing the stone formation to the one on my phone. They were similar, but the one in the picture was a bit more polished and the pattern seemed more evocative, the jaguar was really well drawn…

As I re-entered the sitting room I emptied the chambers and gave Jesse back his gun.

“I don’t know you from Adam so I ain’t takin’ any chances… but I’m no thief so here’s your piece.”

The bumpkin reacquired his arms with a quiet gratitude.

“Here’s the picture,” I said handing it to the Doctor. “Uncanny isn’t it?”

The Doctor examined the picture minutely and then looked over at Sam.

“You’re a great artist, this is a fantastic sketch.” He remarked as he passed the picture to the officer.

Sam beamed with undisguised pride.

“That is so strange! It is very much like that thing on TV we just saw…” Officer Fabre very nearly shouted, “To have that play just now, was it a tape or an internet clip, I did see that commercial….who turned on the TV….?”

None of us knew the answer.

“So what was this you were saying about Jung?” Doc Pearce inquired.

---

1.1 (Intro) The Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

1.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

1.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.7: ‘Jesse’

1.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.8: ‘Lungful of Bees’

1.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.9 – ‘Precedent’

2.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.0 -Calvinist Neuroses

2.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.1 – Mirage

2.2 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.2 – Estate Planning

2.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.3 – High Tech Summons

2.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.4 – Amazon Stonehenge

---

Image Credit: https://fractalenlightenment.com/14683/life/carl-jungs-psychological-diagnosis-using-mandalas

 

---

1.1 (Intro) The Sketch of Sam Monroe

1.2 The Cajun Prayer

1.3 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter One: The Cambridge Gable Scene (‘Gator is Waitin’)

1.4 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.4 – The Cambridge Gable Scene – (Horticulture)

1.5 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.5: ‘To Luckadoo Cove’

1.6 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.6 – ‘Is there anybody out there…’

1.7 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.7: ‘Jesse’

1.8 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.8: ‘Lungful of Bees’

1.9 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 1.9 – ‘Precedent’

2.0 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.0 -Calvinist Neuroses

2.1 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.1 – Mirage

2.2 The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 2.2 – Estate Planning

---

Jesse’s eyes darted around the room. He seemed reticent on the matter, which was odd given how eager he had been to implicate us as whatever supposed villains he’d seen.

“Well…” I said, drumming my fingers impatiently on a mahogany table.

“There were five of ‘em, or at least I think so, ‘t’sall real hazy, two real tall ones in hats with big brims, so I couldn’t make out the face, and three guys in khakis and golfing shirts.”

“Khakis and golfing shirts, truly Satanic…” Lucas quipped.

“Anyway they looked like foreigners and they were strong, big guys, crew cuts, two was carrying cases and backpacks and one was carryin’ some kinda rope.”

“Maybe Thorton is into BDSM. He does always say he’s tied up…” Chuck guffawed.

“Shh…I wanna hear this…”

“Well I musta followed em for about forty minutes or so, I made sure to stay back far…far…I didn’ like tha look o them tall ones with the hats, somethin’ was wrong with their hands, though I was too far away to tell wut.”

He seemed to have a hard time recollecting.

“Then I saw ‘em come to some kinda clearing with a buncha granite and such in it. They dropped all their stuff and started setting up somethin’. The guy with the rope tied it around three trees into a triangle and the two tall ones stood in the center of it, back to back.”

“Sounds like some high caliber LARPING.” Sam couldn’t help himself. “Didn’t you once go dumpster diving with a chub that was into all that Wicca shit?” He asked looking at Graham who was as creepy and unresponsive as he’d been for the past four hours.

“Sam, shut your fucking mouth, I don’t get to hear bullshit this good very often.” Lucas said.

“It ain’t bullcrap, it ain’t, I saw it, I swear, one o the tall ones pointed an arm straight down in a perfect kinda angle the other raised his and bent it at the elbow kinda a pointin at the sky with the weirdest gnarled finger…then…

They started makin’ sounds. Weird sounds, unholy sounds, they was nothin like that I had herd before, it was a sort hum and shriek and chant all at ones, low and pulsating, the three commando looking guys had set up some kinda box with a revolving sort of stone on it, and one was holdin a panel..I dunno there was a lot goin on but it was all somehow related…to them lights, cause soon, the whole place got real weird, real dizzy like, it was almost like stars and such had come to earth, it go real dark but I could still see trees n sky, n ground, and then tha ground, it got all inky, n them glowing christmas lights dun sorta ooze out of em and buzz about, and in the light o that buzzin…I saw…”

There was a long pause.

“You saw…”

“I saw the face o tha tall ones under the hats, they was rong, not people faces, they had real rough lookin skin, and no noses, and the eyes were large, kinda like snake eyes…”

“Then I saw it look at me, and ….”

This time the pause was uncomfortably long. More than eight minutes of silence interspersed with prodding.

“Ok, so how did you end up in the Lodge, and how did you avoid our suppressive systems? That would be the ear-splitting pulse weapon we have to play with.”

“I don’t remember no sound except for that throbbin thing just before I dropped my gun and found myself all damp by that cold lake…”

“Yeah, but you got in here somehow…”

“I don’t remember…”

“Anybody leave anythin open..”

“Thass right…! Ya’ll is wicked I recall now makin my way on muh hands and knees and I saw two doors open to the dark and stairs…”

“The root cellar…” I said palming my face.

“I saw them pillars n skulls, n runes, n such yall had in there… yall is wicked too.”

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“Government-funded voodoo?” Pierce chuckled.

“I wouldn’t put it past ‘em.” Fabre remarked with rueful vehemence.

Just then the television flickered on.