Kindle Notes & Highlights
by
Scott Hunter
Read between
June 29 - July 20, 2020
Prologue Smithsonian Institution expedition, March 1920 Location: classified
He had no choice. That had always been the case. No choice. Let posterity remember that, if nothing else.
No choice. I have no choice.
You always have a choice... Whether right or wrong, life or death.
grasping the corner of the dais. It was cold to his touch and he pulled his hand away with a gasp. It made him feel – unholy.
Has a conscience...
This is wrong. This is not for us to see...
his grandfather
Theo?
Clear indications that it was on board during voyage
our past and future are necessarily shaped by forces that operate on a scale and time frame outside of our limited human experience.
High above the dawn sun sent probing fingers of light across the ancient sand, highlighting the criss-crossing of vapour trails in an otherwise unbroken sky.
Excellent imagery!
Now the stillness had a volume all of its own which seemed more unsettling.
Theodore had been neither fool nor lunatic, but something had happened to him, something destabilizing.
a gap in two large rock formations into an open area studded with scrub and piles of boulders, haphazardly scattered about as if some giant had pulled pieces off the side of the mountain and dropped them carelessly on his way down.
She couldn’t forgive Theodore Dracup for his part in the rape of her heritage, but he had suffered enough at the hands of his masters.
As her body came to rest her soul had already stepped out into the endless tunnels of eternity.
These were the ‘Tells’, the mounds that concealed the buried buildings of a once thriving city. The closest of these seemed innocuous enough, rising gently to a height of thirty or so metres and surrounded by the detritus of its own destruction.
city of Nebuchadnezzar.” The man pointed with his staff. “His palace was considered the greatest building achievement in the world. But, like all dictators, his time passed. Babylon crumbled to dust.
Dracup watched as the sky was filled with a blaze of orange and red, sweeping colour across the clouds with the abandonment of some celestial surrealist painter.
The heavenly light show gradually faded and the shadows of the Tells fell darkly across the parched soil.
About a hundred metres ahead of them, two giant gates rose up from the cavern floor towards the distant roof.
Eden?
a fragrance emanating from beyond the gate, a sweet, almost sickly smell. Its enticement was powerful.
The deepening layers of ash – and other remains Dracup didn’t care to examine too thoroughly – impaired their progress. He grimaced each time the pressure of his weight produced a dull crack underfoot; bone or bough, it evoked the same feeling of horror and loathing. A dead place. And then there was the cloying, sickly smell inhibiting his breathing with every faltering step.
Dracup felt an invading weakness, a sapping of energy that made him want to stop, lie down, sleep forever. The box was getting heavier and he felt the heat of its contents against the bare skin of his arm. He shifted its weight and found himself struggling for breath.
The box fell away, peeling back from the glowing metal inside. They watched the cardboard turn to ash.
Natasha held out a fallen fruit. It was large and pear-shaped, but a deep, purple colour. The juice ran onto Natasha’s fingers. She raised her hand to lick the juice.
the curtain that separated the tree from the wasteland of Eden.
He could feel the tree’s energy seducing him, as if he were straining against the insistent tug of some invisible, elastic connection.
susuration
