Читать книгу Sqerm - James A. Moore - Страница 19

Chapter 15

“Okay, while we attempt to mollify the leather, listen to this…” Parker turned up the volume on his computer. Parker had cracked the encryption on some of the videos on the flash drive. On one of the videos that Parker had decrypted, there was a male researcher, in his late sixties. The researcher had accent and spoke deliberately. His hair was nearly entirely white and was somewhat disheveled. He wore small circular bifocals and was shuffling through papers and charcoal rubbings.

The researcher spoke. “This is information that few possess. If you have this information, you’re part of an extremely elite group here on earth. When I was in the South Pacific, I came across a lost tribe or at least what I believed to be remains of their existence. I found glyphs on a wall that told a story about an old piece of rock. It took me nearly twenty years to translate it. I think I have most of it. What I found was unbelievable, and I can’t put this any clearer. It appears that this ancient tribe had a member that was born with—shall we say—characteristics or, more accurately, tendencies. This person was imbued with the proclivity to kill. There is some convolution in this portion, but it appears that—at least in the beginning—this tribe was opposed to killing. So, naturally, this person was ostracized. As time went on, they found a different use for this person—actually two. He was tasked with tribal executions and war-fighting tactics. This was this tribe’s technique of dealing with this newly found personality type. This person, as far as I could tell, the name loosely translated into something in the realm of executioner. After a few more years of studying it, I think that I have developed a better translation of the coding more accurately…”

The researcher paused and cleared his throat. He shuffled through the papers, and the rustling mimicked the sound of white noise on an old television set. He adjusted his glasses and squinted at the pile of documents. He continued, “It describes an apex predator.”

There was another pause. The researcher dropped his head and stared at the papers for a few more seconds and then returned his gaze to the camera. The video flickered occasionally.

“This person was well provided for. He was given food, supplies, and even a wife. The caveat seemed to be that he was to remain on the fringe or outskirts of the tribal areas. This put him at some distance from the rest of the people. His wife stayed with the main component of the tribe for her own protection. He was kept at a distance and spent time away from his wife. He was only allowed to see his wife when he was summoned, and he was only summoned for executions. It seems that executions were generally reserved for outside factions that were not members of the tribe. He was occasionally requested for war fighting. During the time of executions, he was allowed to enter the tribal domain at night. It was a requirement that he vacated before the sun rose. This meant that he must perform his duties, spend time with his wife, and see any offspring within a short period. This seemed like a lonely life for the executioner/hunter, but this was the way. It was their culture. In times of war, he was summoned to work with the warriors of the tribe. His purpose was to instruct the warriors with techniques designed to instill fear in other tribes that they may have been warring with. It appears that he may have been adept at specific methods of stealth. If he survived the battle, he was given additional provisions and required to return to his life of solitude. In some instances, there were offspring. According to the writings, the child generally tended to be male, and it was rare that there was a female child born of this bloodline. Many tribes were afraid of this particular tribe because of this ‘special’ person, the characteristics and knowledge that they possessed. The last pieces of the wall had a few glyphs that indicated that other tribes were attempting to kidnap the offspring of this person at a young age. It appears that they were trying to duplicate the process in hopes of strengthening their own tribe. It looks as though some tribes and cultures were wiped out after this process was adopted. This may have been the downfall of this tribe as well, or perhaps it was during one of the warring time frames with another faction.”

There was another pause, and Parker took this opportunity to interject. “Sage, you getting this?”

“Yeah…wow,” said Sage, furrowing his brow.

The video seemed to skip, flicker, and rewind like an old VHS tape. The researcher’s voice came in with a bit more authority. “On a few broken pieces that I could not entirely clear up, it looks as though after interaction or war with other tribes, there were members of the tribe that would sneak off to supplicate to this ostracized member even though this went against tribal laws…”

The volume trailed off.

“I think you might want to get some forceps,” said Parker, clicking around on his computer.

“The water’s not that hot,” said Sage.

“I have no doubt that you can handle the temperature. But I think it’s skin,” said Parker, seemingly enjoying the position in which Sage was currently placed.

Sage made a face of disgust but did as instructed. “Okay, I got some tweezers.”

“Gently grab the skin and flip it over in the solution,” directed Parker.

Sage did as Parker requested. The skin was slowly beginning to absorb liquid and softening. After a bit of time in the mini-Jacuzzi, the skin was hydrated and pliable in the middle. The edges remained curled up like the crust of a fancy French galette. It reminded Sage of beef jerky, and the thought caused him to become disgusted. Now that the skin was flexible, he gently poked at it with the forceps—he sank it and watched it float back to the top of the small bowl. After a few dips in the container, he flipped the skin over. The edges unfurled so that the skin lay like a raft in the water and oil concoction.

“What do you see?” questioned Parker excitedly.

“It looks like a military chevron for a private first class…There is something under it.”

“What, two crossed rifles?” Parker teased.

Sarcastically, Sage quipped back, “You’re funny…No, bro—it looks like a fang.”

“Sage, if this is legit, this is huge.”

“Okay, so from a historical perspective…what’s your take?” asked Sage.

“Let me throw out a hypothesis, and I will probably have more for you later. But consider this: the chevron looks like a chevron because that is what it is…and I think it is shoulder meat.” Parker sniffed and sucked air through his teeth.

“Is that your professional opinion, or are you trying to be funny?”

“I think this is skin cut from the deltoid of one of these executioners,” replied Parker.

“Ah, okay…shoulder meat. All those degrees and you say shoulder meat,” joked Sage. “So you think this guy had a military rank?”