The Celestine Prophecy: An Adventure by James Redfield

cloth covering the fender. As we drove past, a blond man walked out of the store and glanced at us briefly. He was round faced and wore dark-rimmed glasses.
    I looked at the man closely, my mind racing back five years.
    “I know it wasn’t him,” I said to Wil. “But that guy looks just like a friend of mine I used to work with. I haven’t thought of him in years.”
    I noticed Wil was scrutinizing me.
    “I told you to watch events closely,” he said. “Let’s go back and see if that fellow needs some help. He didn’t look like a local.”
    We found a place where the shoulders of the road were wide enough and turned around. When we returned to the store, the man was working on the engine. Wil pulled up to the pump and leaned out the window.
    “Looks like you have trouble,” Wil said.
    The man pushed his glasses back up on his nose, a habit my friend also shared.
    “Yes,” he replied, “I have lost my water pump.” The man appeared to be in his early forties and was of a slight build. His English was formal with a French accent.
    Wil was quickly out of the vehicle introducing us. The man offered me his hand with a smile that also looked familiar. His name was Chris Reneau.
    “You sound French,” I said.
    “I am,” he replied. “But I teach psychology in Brazil. I am here in Peru seeking information about an archaeological artifact that has been found, a manuscript.”
    I hesitated for a moment, unsure how much I should trust him.
    “We’re here for the same reason,” I finally said.
    He looked at me with deep interest. “What can you tell me about it?” he asked. “Have you seen copies?”
    Before I could reply, Wil walked out of the building, the screen door slamming behind him. “Great luck,” he said to me. “The owner has a place where we can camp, and there’s some hot food. We might as well stay for the night.” He turned and looked expectantly at Reneau. “If you don’t mind sharing your reservations.”
    “No, no,” he said. “I welcome the company. A new pump cannot be delivered here until tomorrow morning.”
    While he and Wil began a conversation about the mechanics and reliability of Reneau’s land cruiser, I leaned back against the jeep, feeling the warmth of the sun, and drifting into a pleasant reverie about the old friend Reneau had brought to mind. My friend had been wide-eyed and curious, very much like Reneau seemed, and a constant reader of books. I could almost recall the theories he liked, but time had obscured my recollection.
    “Let’s get our stuff down to the campsite,” Wil was saying, patting me on the back.
    “Okay,” I said absently.
    He opened the rear door and pulled out the tent and sleeping bags and loaded my arms, then grabbed a duffle bag full of extra clothing. Reneau was locking up his vehicle. We all walked past the store and down a course of steps. The ridge fell away steeply behind the building and we angled to the left along a narrow pathway. After twenty or thirty yards, we could hear water running, and further on we saw a stream cascading down the rocks. The air was cooler and I could smell the strong fragrance of mint.
    Directly in front of us, the ground leveled out and the stream formed a pool about twenty-five feet in diameter. Someone had cleared a campsite and built a rock containment for a fire. Wood was stacked against a nearby tree.
    “This is fine,” Wil said, and began unpacking his large four man tent. Reneau spread his smaller tent to the right of Wil.
    “Are you and Wil researchers?” Reneau asked me at one point. Wil had finished with the tent and had walked up to check on dinner.
    “Wilson’s a guide,” I said. “I’m not doing much of anything right now.”
    Reneau gave me a puzzled look.
    I smiled and asked, “Have you been able to see any parts of the Manuscript?”
    “I have seen the First and Second Insights,” he said, stepping closer. “And I’ll tell you something. I think it is all happening just as the