Beckon by Tom Pawlik Page A

to that. “Giant alien zombie cave spiders?”
    Ben shrugged. “Just a thought.”
    They continued on, and Jack—against his better judgment—began rolling that idea around in his head. History was replete with those kinds of stories. Ancient Egyptian, Sumerian, and Indian cultures all had similar themes in their mythologies.
    â€œWhat exactly do those stories say?” he asked after a moment.
    Ben paused in the tunnel. “One of them says that the Old Ones came to Earth and built a huge city or fortress under the mountain. But they were dying. They . . . I don’t know—they had some disease and were all going to die. And for some reason they couldn’t reproduce, so they would take human women to try to preserve their line.”
    â€œSo where was this underground city?” Jack said, now intrigued.
    Ben shrugged. “I always thought it was here in these mountains. But I don’t think anyone knows for sure.”
    They crept deeper into the tunnel until they came at last to a dead end. Ben’s light shone against a smooth black surface. As they moved closer, Jack could see it was made of wood. Rough-hewn wooden planks covered with a sticky black substance. He couldn’t see any indication of how the planks were bound together.
    â€œIt looks like some kind of doorway,” Ben whispered, inspecting the perimeter. “The wood is covered with tar or something.”
    â€œProbably to preserve it from all the moisture in here,” Jack said.
    Jack was fascinated by the structure. He could see the framework of an imposing doorway—over eight feet tall and four feet wide. The posts, header, and threshold were also formed of timber and covered with the same sticky substance. Around the perimeter was what looked like a gravel-mortar mixture that filled all the gaps between the timbers and the rocky wall of the passage, sealing it off completely. He could only guess what lay on the other side.
    Ben patted the wooden surface. “It feels pretty solid. Like they were definitely serious about trying to keep something out.”
    â€œIt could be the gateway to their city,” Jack said. “We have to see what’s on the other side.”
    Ben shone his light along the edges of the wooden doorway, revealing several markings carved into the wood. Jack could see they looked nearly identical to the marks he’d seen at the entrance to the tunnel and on the N’watu themselves.
    â€œI wish I could translate this,” Jack said. “It’s not pictographic at all.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œPrimitive cultures basically use pictures in their written communication. They draw images or symbols to represent objects in the world around them. But as a culture develops over time, their written language usually becomes less picture-based and uses more abstract symbols instead. And this stuff—” Jack tapped the symbols on the wood—“looks like a completely abstract alphanumeric system. That makes it harder to translate, but it’s also indicative of a more advanced culture. At least more advanced than the two guys I saw wandering around here in loincloths.”
    Ben stared at the doorway. “So we have no idea if this says ‘Exit’ or ‘Warning: Giant spiders behind this door.’”
    â€œExactly. And since we didn’t see any other side passages, we can assume our N’watu friends came this way and got through somehow.”
    Ben pushed against the timbers, but the door didn’t budge. “You think it’s locked from the other side?”
    Jack studied the crease between the door planks and the outer frame. “There’s no handle on this side. I assume it opens inward, but I also don’t see any sign of a hinge system. We can’t even tell if it opens to the left or right.”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter if they have it locked or barred from the other