Zarulium Chronicles I - Destination Nazca

Zarulium Chronicles

  Book I

  Destination Nazca

  By Christopher A Forrest

  With Alice Bennett

  Cover Art and Design by Christopher Forrest and Katerina Forrest

  Copyright 2014 Christopher A Forrest

  https://www.zchronicles.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners

  Anton's Video Diary 1

  October

  "This is Dr. Anton Vladimir Yakushev here . . . uh . . . I apologize in advance, I am not used to working with video equipment . . . In fact, this is my first time . . . In fact, I feel a bit nervous in front of the camera . . . ha-ha . . . . Okay, I am about to attempt an historic event here in my lab in Aurica. Aurica is in Ontario . . . Earth . . . uh . . . Anyways . . . I have been designing and building an apparatus that will allow objects to travel between current time and points in the past or future. I have built a time machine, if you will.

  "Yesterday, I completed the first ever, successful time travel event, and now it is my plan today to record a second event for posterity.

  "Today, you can see that machine behind me . . . Inside its transport chamber you will see a rock . . . or more precisely a stone . . . and it is my intention that this stone and a wristwatch, will make the first time travel journey. For purposes of practicality and viewer comprehension, the journey will be a short one into the future.

  "In order to prove the device's veracity, I will begin by setting time-keeping devices in two places. Firstly, I will place a regular three-handed wristwatch into the travel chamber. If the experiment works, then this watch will disappear with the stone. I will synchronize my wristwatch to the same time as that of the travelling watch. In order to be successful, the watch and stone should reappear after one minute, yet the travelling watch will show the same time as it did when it disappeared – while all other time-keeping devices will have advanced by one minute of real time . . .

  "Now you see . . . I am synchronizing at 2:01 pm. I have a third clock on the wall also synchronized to this same time. In addition, you can see the video has a timer at the bottom that will record the passing of one minute . . . . I will begin at precisely 2:02 in a few seconds from now . . . All right, I will begin counting down . . . now! Five, four, three, two, one . . . shit! Oh, excuse me . . . uh; it would appear I just fried the cooling fan . . . . It had been acting up . . . uh, abort test for today . . . Dammit!"

  Chapter 1: Natalia – Cape Canaveral, Florida – October

  The clock radio clicked on, ". . . weather today in South Florida, sun then clouds, with a high of . . ."

  She hit the snooze button for the third time, refused even to peek at the clock, and rolled over, but moments later, she heard it. Its brakes squeaked and Natalia could easily guess at the exact time. It must be 8 AM if the tour bus had just laboured to a stop outside, a short ways from her window. Slowly, she slid one leg off the bed. Wincing at the mild back pain this manoeuvre caused her, Natalia decided that such an annoying position should have its own Chinese martial art exercise name.

  With a falsely reverent tone, she mystically uttered, "Bed-laying soccer kick position – good for limbering spine and preparing legs for another day of . . . ass kicking."

  Unimpressed by her sarcastic wit, she turned towards the window and sat up, barely able to stare out at the disembarking tour bus.

  Seeing the tourists exhibiting various sorts of behaviour was typical. Spotting a woman who was chastising her floppy straw hat for falling off, Natalia observantly mumbled, "Pissed off."

  Seeing a chunky, sweaty guy stumble off, she continued, "Pissed drunk."

  Seeing an elderly person making for the outdoor washroom, she concluded, "Gotta piss."

  At last, she turned to face the first of her school day nemeses – the alarm clock radio. It would soon kick in for a fourth time and she knew too well what a fourth time would mean – shouting. It was not as if Natalia couldn't handle shouting at this time of day; she just didn't need to add extra challenges to her day. School was bad enough. School pissed Natalia off.

  Seeking to buy time, she looked in the mirror hoping that the bed had magically preserved her pre-bed hair from last night: triple wrong. Firstly, the left side looked like the result of shock treatment. Secondly, the right side looked like the tour bus had just run over it. Finally, the top looked like it had maliciously self-knotted itself in a sadomasochistic reverie.

  Defeated by bed head in a one-round knockout, Natalia relegated herself to the bathroom for a shower. While the cooling water enlivened her, she untangled her curly blonde locks. She thought of the tourists alighting and decided they were all worse off than she was. After all, tourists paid to have a crappy bus tour – Natalia paid nothing for her crappy school experience.

  She knew that this was a rather negative way to spend her time, but then, she did find it amusing. It pleased her in a way few things could at present. If they were all worse off than she was, well then she was not in last place in the life race! This feeling of still being in the race gave her hope.

  Returned to her room to dress, Natalia saw a bitchin' fast car pull up behind the frumpy looking bus. She knew her sports cars from watching racing on TV. She liked racing because the drivers put their lives on the line every time they raced. She respected that they had to be half-crazy to do that, but by definition then, they might at least be half-sane.

  She saw the car was vivid orange. She recognized it as a Porsche.

  Sighing, she quietly complained, "A $200,000, Porsche 911 GT3 – painted pumpkin orange. It's a sign of the Apocalypse."

  Blissfully unaware of what an apocalypse truly was, nevertheless, Natalia was sure it was something shitty.

  "You're early for Halloween, buddy," she declared as she pulled her Jacksonville Jaguar jersey over her head, and then began primping her hair with stiffened fingers.

  Completing her fashion-defiant clothing ensemble, Natalia donned a pair of mid-thigh bicycle shorts, short socks, and runners, and imagined painting that Porsche a proper race colour like red or black, and then mimed 'loser' into the mirror like her favourite Florida pet detective once did.

  She was about to chastise herself for thinking inappropriate thoughts about others but decided to forgive herself. Then, however, Natalia heard her mothers' scolding tongue and it served as her punishment.

  Susan had pushed open Natalia's door, and shouted, "Natalia; hurry up! You should have learned by now how to manage your time! You'll be late again and I have no time to drive you!"

  Seeing that her mother was half-dressed, sparked the thought 'look who's talking' in Natalia's mind. It amused Natalia to hear her 37-year-old mother scold her almost 13 year-old daughter about the child student not having learned about time management when the parent instructor had obviously run out of sufficient quantities of time herself.

  Turning one last time to look out the window in case she laughed, Natalia instead rolled her eyes, and loudly replied "Coming mother!" Then she thought 'how times have changed'. Natalia could not recall when she last had respect for the words coming out of her mother's mouth, but was certain it was over a year ago. Natalia was a child of 11 or 12 then. She would be a teenager soon and felt so much closer to adulthood.

  She heard that when children are young they hear th
e word 'no' frequently and many times more commonly than the word 'yes'. Natalia had reasoned over the last year that her mother simply substituted 'Natalia' for 'no'. That is, it seemed that her mother saw Natalia as the biggest negative in her life. Natalia, on the other hand, thought of her mother as the biggest asshole in hers.

  Out in the hallway, presumably for imperative effect, her mother shrieked this time, "Natalia!"

  Biggest nagging bitch, too, Natalia thought. You have to live with the adult you have – not the one you wish you had!

  Hearing her mother shriek her name like that again caused Natalia to think on its meaning. She recalled her father once explained that her name originally evolved from the Portuguese word for Christmas 'Natal.' Her father, Anton, was Ukrainian and he named her for the Ukrainian Christmas Day: January 7th. By now, Natalia was used to explaining her 'more-unusual-than-abnormal' birthday to people.

  She was one of those tiny percentages of people on Earth who could identify the jolly season with that of their own births. The only advantage Natalia ever recognized in relation to her birth date, however, was that she could easily tell people how many Christmases she had experienced so far: very few had been jolly.

  Her mother shrieked once more, snapping Natalia out of her seasonal review, and so the almost teen headed to the kitchen. Once there, she looked in the pantry. She found a package of pop-tarts. She found this curious because she was a healthy food advocate and, despite their many differences, her mother would not purchase such an unhealthy item.

  Then Natalia saw the package they had arrived in, and realized that the tarts must have arrived in the mail via a promotion. Perhaps the American public's love affair with pop-tarts was over and so the cereal company needed to remind it of its past bad habits. Her mother had allowed these pop-tarts into the house and so if Natalia ate them and experienced a potentially undesirable reaction, then it would be Susan's fault. My mother caused my murderous spree, your honour!

  Natalia heated the tarts in the toaster and after they lived up to their name and ejected themselves, she began eating them. They were sickly sweet with their strawberry frosting and gummy consistency. After consuming one and a half, Natalia felt the tarts already besieging her stomach.

  Reasoning she'd likely accomplished her mission, Natalia suddenly wondered about the impending future scholastic repercussions. Specifically, she thought about her strict math class teacher. She secretly called him 'Mr. Camel' because he wouldn't let students go to the can during his class. His class was an hour from now. What if I have to use the can during his class?

  Rationalizing that it would have a diluting effect, Natalia quickly drank down a glass of water. Feeling that satisfaction was fleeting, Natalia repeated the process, reasoning that doing so would further insure against her entering into a diabetic coma during the middle of class.

  In the washroom to brush her teeth, Natalia removed some lint form her favourite Jacksonville Jaguars football jersey. She thought football was a hamburger sport for idiots, but she loved the colour of the jerseys. This one was as teal as the ocean on slightly overcast days. She also liked the shiny nylon material because if she were approaching others from a certain direction on a sunny day the rays would reflect off the jersey and blind viewers temporarily.

  She felt that blinding people in this way alerted them that somebody with an attitude was approaching. She didn't look for confrontations, but had given into the idea that they just seemed to find her. To Natalia then, her blinded by the light action, served as a fair warning system. Blink if you dare!

  When Natalia returned to the kitchen to see about a lunch, she noticed her mother was on the phone speaking in low tones. Before her mom ended the call she clarified her identity to the caller, explaining, "No – not Yakushev – that was my ex's name. I am Susan Bedford again." Natalia had heard her mother's maiden name repeatedly lately. It raised her pissed off-edness to a new high level.

  After Susan ended the call, she moved unnaturally towards her bedroom as if either not wanting Natalia to see her face or as if ignoring her. To Natalia, choosing which of the two it was, resembled choosing between having either a top tooth out, or a bottom one: both choices were undesirable, and so Natalia decided to stir the shit up because of her pissed off-edness.

  Saucily, Natalia declared, "Susan Yakushev used to look at me once in a while – but I notice lately that Susan Bedford has no time for that!"

  Defensively, Susan shot back a question, "What are you talking about?"

  Natalia declined to add to her comment because her mother had not defended herself adequately enough for Natalia to feel more was necessary. She waited instead with a glowering glance ready to pounce again.

  Eventually, with an oddly sanctimonious tone in her voice, Susan continued, "I beg your pardon Natalia Irina Yakushev?"

  This served only to inflame Natalia's dormant wrath. She sassily responded, "It seems ironic to me, mother, that you should state my full name so proudly."

  Haughtily, Susan replied, "Why shouldn't I speak my daughter's name aloud in front of her? You are Natalia Yakushev."

  Defiantly, Natalia retorted, "Oh, I know who I am – it's you who has the identity problem, lady!"

  Angrily, Susan hollered, "How dare you!"

  Deciding sarcasm was in order, Natalia asked, "What? You want me to call you 'woman' instead of 'lady'?"

  "Don't be smart with me, Natalia. I am your mother!"

  Natalia glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that she needed to expedite this discussion process before her mother's recently shaved leg hairs grew back, and so she angrily responded, "You make my name sound like something I should be proud of, but there you are introducing yourself to others as Susan Bedford!"

  Defensive again, Susan announced, "Well, I am an adult and I can make that sort of choice for myself – it is an entirely personal thing Natalia!"

  At last sticking her verbal knife in deep, Natalia caustically concluded, "Oh yeah? Well, I think you changed your name back because I embarrass you at least as much as you obviously hate my father!"

  Susan gasped rather audibly and Natalia noticed her forming her hand in the shape of a face slap. Natalia lowered her eyes to the hand in acknowledgement; returned a withering stare at her mother; and then very softly stated, "If you try that, expect retaliation."

  Susan began to cry prolifically and moved to hug Natalia. For her part, Natalia was used to this sort of breakdown that marked the end of the infrequent communication sessions she had with her mother lately, but instead of caving in to the physical apology of her offered hug, Natalia avoided it this time.

  Instead, she impulsively scoffed down the remainder of her attitude-enhancing breakfast making sure Susan saw her do it; pointedly scoffed at her mother to pre-empt any further admonishments from her about life or poor food choices; and would have resoundingly scoffed at the rest of the world too, but she was running late.

  Before leaving, Natalia shrugged to the mirror, as her hair was a shambles; shamelessly shimmied down the stairs; and shuffled off shining in the morning sun. She made up for lost time by running the whole way to school, offering no shed tears because she didn't give a shit.