A Gift from the Gods Read online

  Copyright © 2018 Martin Gunn

  www.martingunnauthor.co.uk

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  Credit to Bespoke Book Covers for the cover design.

  Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

  Matador

  9 Priory Business Park,

  Wistow Road, Kibworth Beauchamp,

  Leicestershire. LE8 0RX

  Tel: 0116 279 2299

  Email: [email protected]

  Web: www.troubador.co.uk/matador

  Twitter: @matadorbooks

  ISBN 978 1789012 545

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

  Everything is theoretically impossible.

  Until it is done.

  Robert A. Heinlein

  Contents

  PART ONE

  Out of Space…

  PROLOGUE

  Killing Time

  CHAPTER ONE

  Captain Hook

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Origin of Storms

  CHAPTER THREE

  Forbidden Technology

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Small Things

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Die Glocke

  CHAPTER SIX

  One Small Step for Man

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A Toss of a Coin

  PART TWO

  …Out of Time

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Too Much of a Good Thing

  CHAPTER NINE

  Beware of False Prophets

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Eagle Will Rise Again

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sins of the Father

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Impossible Past

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Solar Eclipse

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  All Exits Are Final

  EPILOGUE

  The Origin of Storms – Reprise

  Acknowledgements

  PART ONE

  Out of Space…

  PROLOGUE

  Killing Time

  Ten Miles West of Devils Lake – North Dakota

  15th August 1984

  “Look will you stop it,” demanded an exasperated Brooke as she pulled Tyler’s hand out from between her thighs.

  “What’s going on?” Tyler was confused, “I thought you were up for this.”

  It was true, the very reason for them driving out to this copse overlooking a massive wheat field was to make out, and since Brooke had recently turned sixteen, she had decided that Tyler would be the one – her first. Unfortunately, nature had intervened early this month.

  “I was – I am,” she corrected, hoping to reassure him, “it’s just that time of the month, that’s all. It started this morning – I’m early.”

  Brooke sat up and rearranged her long spikey brown hair, then she turned to Tyler with a mischievous grin,

  “We can still make out a little, can’t we?” she flirted.

  Tyler looked at her, grinned mischievously, put his forefinger in his mouth and moved it back and forth.

  “You’re gross,” she exclaimed, pushing his right shoulder hard.

  “I’m just kidding,” he replied laughing, “for God’s sake lighten up.”

  “You can be such a jerk sometimes,” Brooke complained sullenly. She really liked him and had hoped for better.

  “Look I’m sorry, okay?” he implored, trying to placate her.

  Tyler slumped back in the driver’s seat, sighed and became reticent. Brooke assumed he had started to sulk.

  The radio was playing Cyndi Lauper’s ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun’, but the irony was completely lost on the pair.

  “So, am I getting the silent treatment now?”

  Tyler held his right hand up to hush her as he switched off the radio. He could hear a low rumbling sound coming from behind them. Tyler wound down the window.

  “Can you hear that,” he whispered.

  Brooke listened for a moment and then heard it too.

  “It sounds like vehicles coming down the track,” he blurted out excitedly.

  No sooner had he spoken, when two Jeep Cherokee XJ’s drove by, kicking up dust and followed by a large truck with a crane on the back, which in turn was followed by two more Cherokees. The sun had just tipped over the horizon, but even though the light was poor, they could see that the jeeps were black with dark grey tinted windows, thus making them look somewhat menacing.

  About one hundred feet away, the vehicles stopped at the edge of the wheat field. The four Cherokees fanned out; two either side of the truck. Tyler opened the door and got out of the car for a better look.

  Stooping to look back into the car again, he asked rhetorically, “What are they doing here? This is the middle of nowhere.”

  Brooke just shrugged and gave no reply. Then in a display of disinterest, she pulled down the sun visor to check her make-up in the vanity mirror.

  “I’m going for a closer look,” whispered Tyler.

  “Why?” hissed Brooke, “shouldn’t we just go?”

  “Wait here I won’t be long.” He moved off into the trees to get a little nearer to the vehicles, until Brooke found it difficult to make him out.

  Several men had stepped out of the jeeps and were now standing at the edge of the field, surveying it. Two were wearing dark grey suits with lighter grey shirts and black tie, the other eight were simply wearing dark grey overalls and caps. Two of the men in overalls flanked the rest, each holding a submachine gun in front of them in a relaxed fashion.

  “He should be here soon, Kolbeck,” commented one of the be-suited men to the other. He was heavy-set and middle-aged, with thin dark hair brushed back over his scalp. Kolbeck was much younger, tall and slim with short fair hair. He nodded and replied, “Everything is in place, Sir.”

  The middle-aged man nodded his approval and looked back to the field, then up at the sky. It was a cloudless evening and most of the stars were gleaming in the twilight. As they waited, all of the men took out red bands and slid them up their left arms.

  “It seems as though we have been killing time this last forty-odd years,” stated the middle-aged man.

  “He also, in his own way,” replied Kolbeck nodding in the direction of the wheat field, “but then we can afford to, don’t you think?”

  The middle-aged man nodded; it was true, forty years was nothing to them.

  About ten minutes went by, then suddenly they began to feel a breeze which seemed to come out of nowhere. All ten men put on sunglasses despite the fact that the sun had set completely by now. Then with a sudden flash, a ball of blinding white light about twenty feet in diameter appeared, fifty feet off the ground. There was a sudden loud thunder-like crack and the ball dispersed outwards in a halo of light, until it dissipated and finally disappeared. What was left was a strange object in the sky, hovering and spinning very fast. It was bronze in colour and m
easured fifteen feet tall by nine feet at its widest. The shape was reminiscent of a bell.

  Eventually the rotation of the object started to decrease and slowly it began to descend. The wheat was ripe and ready for harvesting and as the object touched down there was a rustling sound as it crushed the crops.

  Tyler had managed to move to within twenty feet undetected; he was spellbound and dazzled by this incredible apparition. Then he watched on tenterhooks as two of the men in overalls started to open a side hatch on the strange object. There was a pause, and a short, slightly older man stepped out unsteadily. He straightened his jacket, removed his goggles and ran his fingers through his hair. Even in the darkness Tyler could see who the man was.

  “Holy crap,” he muttered quietly to himself, “this is so fucked up.”

  The man who had alighted from the vessel was none other than Adolf Hitler. Suddenly he was startled by movement to his left. It was Brooke, who had eventually decided to join him.

  “Did you see that?” she hissed, trying to contain her excitement.

  Tyler pulled her down low and put his hand over her mouth. They both squatted in the bushes listening to the men as they spoke.

  “Is that German they’re speaking?” whispered Brooke in Tyler’s ear.

  “This is some crazy shit,” he hissed in reply, “we need to get outta here.”

  As Hitler stepped forward, two men went to work on the vessel. The other eight gave a Nazi salute and clicked their heels. Hitler responded with a casual raising of his right arm.

  “It’s good to see you again, my Führer.”

  “It only seems a few minutes ago when I left you, Martin,” replied Hitler with a smile.

  “It has been forty years for us, Sir,” replied Bormann.

  “Yet you have hardly aged at all,” observed Hitler.

  Both Bormann and Kolbeck looked at each other and smiled.

  “Please,” advised Bormann with a hint of urgency, “we must get you away to safety.”

  Hitler nodded and began to follow Bormann to one of the jeeps, when a crack was heard coming from the bushes. Sturmbannführer Kolbeck motioned for two of the armed men to investigate. Tyler and Brooke had been squatting in the bushes for some time and Brooke felt the need to shift, and in doing so, she inadvertently stood on a twig.

  “Shhh,” insisted Tyler, “they’ll hear us.” No sooner had he said this, than they found themselves looking up at two silhouettes holding machine-guns.

  Without a word, the guards picked up the teenagers by the scruff of the neck and dragged them in front of Sturmbannführer Kolbeck.

  “So, you were spying in the bushes, eh?” he accused, in a heavy German accent.

  “No – no we didn’t see a thing,” whimpered Tyler, terrified.

  Hitler and Bormann stopped and looked back at the commotion, then Hitler walked back and faced the two teenagers.

  “I think we are in trouble,” cowered Brooke, with trepidation.

  He looked them up and down, studying the kids intently. Brooke was wearing a very short skirt and low-cut top, her big spikey hair cascading over her shoulders. Tyler was wearing skin-tight jeans and a red sleeveless tee shirt. His hair was short at the sides, spikey on top and long at the back.

  “Is this how children look today, Major?” enquired Hitler.

  “Things have changed, Sir,” commented Kolbeck, in a matter-of-fact manner.

  Hitler gave a disinterested nod and walked over to a jeep with Bormann. Meanwhile a metal loop had been fitted to the bell-shaped vessel in the field, which enabled it to be hooked up to the crane. It was then lifted and manoeuvred onto the back of the truck. Two men held a tarpaulin ready to cover and strap it down.

  “We won’t say anything if you let us go,” added Brooke, terrified and in tears.

  Sturmbannführer Kolbeck smiled kindly at them and declared, “Okay you can go,” and motioned for them to leave.

  “We can go, just like that?” proffered Tyler.

  “Yes,” insisted Sturmbannführer Kolbeck, “Go – now.”

  They turned and tentatively started to walk towards their car. When they were about fifteen feet away, Kolbeck nodded to one of his men, who stepped forwards and raised his machine-gun. He pulled the trigger and gave out a short burst. The bullets ripped through the two teenagers, who dropped to the ground in crumpled heaps, not knowing what hit them.

  The lifeless bodies were dragged to their car and placed in the front seats. One of the soldiers opened the petrol filler cap and placed an oily rag in it. After waiting for everyone to climb aboard their jeeps, he lit the rag, got into the last vehicle and the convoy made its way back down the track. The occupants in the last jeep, looked back as they heard the car explode into flames. They watched it burning, lighting up the night sky, until they could see it no more. Then the convoy disappeared into the darkness.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Captain Hook

  Colorado Plateau Province – North Arizona

  30th July 2016

  The temperature had reached thirty-nine degrees Celsius, as the early afternoon sun beat down on the reddish-brown sandstone of the Kayenta Formation. Professor Nathan Harrison took a white cotton handkerchief out of the left-hand pocket of his khaki shorts and mopped his brow. Sweat was pouring down his forehead, over his eyebrows and stinging his eyes, making it difficult for him to focus. The surrounding rock arrangement seemed to be acting like a clay oven intent on cooking him where he sat. Then as he looked up and moved the hanky to the back of his neck, he saw a young girl heading in his direction. She was one of ten second-year undergraduates who had foolishly volunteered, at least in his mind, to come on a Paleontological dig in this hostile environment, during the summer break. As she approached, Harrison became aware of the music emanating from a small transistor radio that she was holding in her right hand. The song ‘Street Spirit’ by Radiohead was very familiar and reminded him of his mid-teens. Ducking her head slightly to join him under the awning, she smiled and sat down on the chair to his right.

  “No leave it on,” insisted Harrison as the girl motioned to switch off the radio, “I like this song.”

  It never ceased to amaze him how one song could transport a person to a particular moment back in time, and this song reminded him of a girl he was dating in the mid-nineties, when he was fifteen. He had almost forgotten about her. Sophie listened with him patiently, though she was more interested in what was laid out on the table in front of them. The song came to an end and Harrison reached across to switch the radio off, then turned to Sophie. She was strikingly pretty with long blonde, slightly wavy hair and a stunning figure to match. This was glaringly obvious from her attire. The skimpy faded denim shorts were coupled with a floral-patterned bikini top which barely concealed her modesty. She had covered this with a bright yellow short sleeved blouse, left open at the front. Harrison wondered whether she was oblivious to her charms, or was she being deliberately provocative. Suspecting the latter, he wiped his brow again, the heat was getting oppressive and all pervasive, though Sophie annoyingly seemed quite unperturbed and unaffected by it.

  “I thought it was all iPods these days,” said Harrison.

  “You can’t charge them out here and the other guys’ cell phones are already dead. So, I brought this,” she declared, picking up the radio and smiling triumphantly.

  “Did you get bored with the dig, or are you just looking for shade?”

  She smiled again and said, “No, I’m intrigued by what you have here.” Sophie Hunter may have been blonde but she certainly wasn’t dumb, being one of his best students. She was intelligent, attentive and most importantly, very enthusiastic.

  They both looked down at the bones laid out on the large wooden table. It was quite a find, being the complete skeleton of a dinosaur. Sure, he expected to find something, the Jurassic sandstone in this area had the potent
ial to unearth all manner of specimens, but this was more than he dared to hope for.

  Harrison turned to Sophie and said, “Well, what do we have here then?”

  Sophie studied the bones carefully and eventually concluded, “Okay – it’s a Therapod – bipedal obviously, and that double crest on the skull suggests to me that it’s a Dilophosaurus. I think it must be a juvenile, ‘cause it’s only about three metres long. They can grow up to, like, six metres, can’t they?”

  “Excellent,” congratulated Harrison, “and what about age?”

  “I would say Jurassic – around two hundred million years ago.”

  “It is in fact early Jurassic, so would be a little younger than that, but close enough – well done.”

  Sophie beamed with pride, she always enjoyed the professor’s lectures and relished the opportunity to show off her knowledge.

  Harrison turned his attention back to the skeleton and frowned; there was, however, a problem with it. Something which he was reluctant to share. He didn’t relish the idea of anyone thinking that he was losing the plot. Whilst cleaning up the individual bones and re-assembling the creature on the table, Harrison had noticed an anomaly. Nothing strikingly obvious to a layman, but to his trained eyes something which simply shouldn’t have been there. He decided to risk it and bring the anomaly to Sophie’s attention.

  “Tell me what you make of this,” he said with a hint of nervous tension in his voice.

  Harrison moved his hand over to the pelvic area of the skeleton and picked up the ilium bone. He turned it over to reveal a two-inch-long score mark on its surface. Sophie took the bone and studied it intently. She turned it over several times expecting to see something obvious.