Disclaimer: Benton and Rachel Quest belong to H/B & Turner Enterprises. All other characters are mine. PROPHECY— the monster movie, not the gangster movie starring Christopher Walken— was originally released by Paramount Pictures in the late 1970s or early 1980s. PROPHECY stars Robert Foxworth, Talia Shire, and Armand Assante as John Hawkes. I herein adapt PROPHECY as a crossover to JQ, and in doing so have tried very greatly to make it as true to Maine as I can. Though this is a work of fiction, the names of the mountains, lakes, towns... all are of Maine. The names of the various American Indian tribes are of Maine, though any resemblance of specific characters to actual persons is incidental. Lastly, no moneys are being sought in this endeavor. QUEST AND PROPHECY has been written solely for the enjoyment of the fans of JONNY QUEST. Archivers: File it if you'd like to. FFAC: The applicable categories are listed below. Author's notes: This tale takes place a little over a year before Jonny Quest was born, and thus Jonny, Hadji Singh, Race and Jessie Bannon... almost none of the CJQ and TRA regulars appear within this telling. It is a Benton and Rachel story set in the White Mountains of Maine, and is intended to explain the past history of three of the alternate characters from two of my earlier, finished fics as requested by other members of the JQML. On the matter of fire suppressing compounds as they are applied to aviation, Purple K is the real world replacement for Halon 1211. Halon was judged to be too corrosive for use aboard aluminum aircraft, as well too difficult to clean from aircraft engines once heated. Those of you who will read this story will come to a point where you need to understand these facts. Again, as with my other stories, you, the reader, are encouraged to use an atlas, or a map of Maine, in order to best identify with the geography of Maine that I have tried very much to correctly set forth below. Please be advised of the following two issues: 1. White Cape Mountain may be identified as Whitecap Mountain on your data. On mine (Rand McNally, Encarta... etc.), it has been called by both names. 2. Rockport, Maine, appears to be a creation of Turner Enterprises for TRA, and thus you will not find it on maps of your own. I could not find it on those charts that I used. And with all of that said and understood, we may now begin... QUEST AND PROPHECY by Michael Stockton January, 2000 A/E/RE/X/P Part I White Cape Mountain Central Maine, United States July 19, 1984 0214 Local Time In the deep of night under a harvest moon sat a single spotted owl on the limb of a birch tree. It had been a quiet night, and the owl had only just finished a meal when in the distance it saw strange moving lights, and at the same time heard unusual noises. Both the lights and the accompanying sounds were broken by the heavy forest of White Cape Mountain, though both continued almost directly towards the silent and stately bird on the birch tree limb. Soon, men and bloodhounds burst through the bush, passing almost directly below the owl on their way to their deaths. "The dogs are really on this scent!" the leading man exclaimed as he ran behind his hound on the other end of a long leash. "Let's hope those campers are still alive!" another excitedly replied. All three men and their dogs rushed onwards, moving up and over hills and around trees, unknowingly losing their awareness of their surroundings in the macabre reflections of the trees illuminated by their helmet lights. The leading dog soon followed the scent of the lost campers over a certain rise, on the other side of which was a drop of perhaps sixty feet. The hound ran right off the edge, nearly dragging its master over the side with it. But the man held on to his animal's line, and he literally tried to drag the poor creature back up and over the cliff as it hung below by its collar. No good. The collar was loose and the dog fell off into the darkness. After a few moments, it made a few noises in pain and fell fully silent. "Maybe it's still alive," one man said. "Let's go down there and see!" the leader replied. And two of the three humans rappelled over the side, leaving their remaining two dogs with the third man at the top of the cliff. After several moments a terrible scream cut the night, and at the same time one of the ropes went tight. A few seconds later, another such horrible cry could be heard, and the rope that had gone tight once again went loose. "Hank?" the last man shouted. "Hey, Vince!" Neither man answered the call, and their friend quickly clamped himself onto one of the ropes and went over the side after them. Yet after no more than twenty feet of rappelling, he slipped and fell the last several feet, breaking his back over the large rock on which he fell. It would have been best had the man been knocked unconscious or even killed. But being only dazed, nor fully paralyzed, he turned his head to the left where one of his friends lay minus his own head and one arm, and who was otherwise deeply and hideously torn to pieces. The sight of all the blood and gore caused the paralyzed man's eyes to open wide in disbelief, and immediately afterwards he retched, emptying his stomach into the shallow river which flowed around the rock. Then a monstrous roar was heard, one which made the man instantly look back towards the area behind him. What he saw caused him to emit a final scream, and the agony of slashing and rending death came immediately afterwards. Somewhat around four hours later, the sun rose over the misty river valley, illuminating the bloody scene where two men and a bloodhound lay dead on the ground, and a third man dangled lifeless from the end of his rope. Quest Family Estate Rockport, Maine 20 July, 1984 1000 Local Time Professor G. Robert Traylor was employed by the U.S. Justice Department. By training the Professor was an environmentalist assigned to Maine in order to investigate a land dispute between the Atlantic Coast Paper Company and a number of progressive Native American families who belonged to the Penobscot tribe, but who where actually living on their own in the area of Eastern Moosehead Lake. It should have been a straightforward investigation, yet the Professor was stumped. Something else was going on in the forests between Moosehead Lake and White Cape Mountain... something that was dark and required a man of special talents. Such a man lived in Rockport, Maine, and Professor Traylor had come to him for help. Dr. Benton Quest, 30, was a man trained in general science, but who was a specialist in phenomenology. This made Benton a field investigator by default, a fact that would lead him into countless dangerous situations, and a life that had to have a beginning, one which would find its roots in the issue of the White Cape Mountain land dispute. Benton answered his doorbell. "Professor Traylor. Come in." "Dr. Quest," the Professor replied as he entered. "I understand that you're here to discuss the matter of White Cape Mountain. Shall we do so in my study?" "Yes, Doctor. I'm not disturbing you, am I?" "Not at all," Benton replied. "I and my wife have company coming for their vacation, though they haven't yet arrived." Professor Traylor sighed as Benton closed the door to the study. "Dr. Quest, I must confess that I had hoped to call upon you for direct intervention." "This must be serious, Professor. Would you like to sit down? I can have some refreshments brought to us?" "A glass of water, perhaps. What I'd like to explain to you will take no more than twenty minutes." And the Professor sat down. Benton became serious as he sat down directly across from his guest. Yet within a minute there came a gentle knock on the door, and in stepped a lady like a perfect Sunday sunrise. At 5'8" with short, shoulder-length and golden blonde hair, she crossed the room gracefully, though she also exuded an aura of command that was every bit the equal of the highly accomplished pair of gentlemen who rose in real respect to her. The Professor was in awe, and it showed. Dr. Quest was simply surprised in that he had expected his housekeeper to answer his call, not his lady. "Professor Traylor, my wife Rachel." "Hello, Professor," Rachel smiled. "Mrs. Quest," the Professor replied, moved to the core. At but 27 years of age, Rachel was nevertheless an obviously great person. Yet it was her smile and electric blue eyes that instantly captured her husband's guest. Traylor had never seen lovelier. Like Benton, the former Rachel Wildey came from a family of considerable means, one that maintained interests in both Northern New Mexico (ranching) and Uptown Manhattan (investing). And also like Benton, she was possessed of an acute sense of responsibility as a result of her privileged background. But unlike Benton, Rachel was classically educated, and it was she who ran the business side of the Quest household. As a result of being both a country girl and a city girl, she had also developed what everyone who knew her considered to be an incredibly diverse range of talents. The parallels were striking. Rachel could ride horses with the best equestrienne or the best barrel racing rodeo heroine, she could shoot with the best rifleman on the ranch and the best fast-talking businessman on Wall Street, she could dance with the best of the Bolshoi or ad-lib shag it at any disco or honky-tonk, and she could play with the best of the London Symphony Orchestra's string section as easily as she played folk guitar for her father at the end of the toughest day of rounding up the stray stock out West. Rachel was someone who could sing like an angel, yet swear like the devil, though she had long since ceased to do either one. She was an attorney, a legal councilor specializing in matters of national and international investments and trade, and thus she worked well with her brilliant and innovative husband on the matter of marketing the things that he made. Yet to remain on the subject of Rachel, all of this was but a bit of the depth lay beneath the lady's stunning surface. She was the light of Dr. Quest's life, and he neither forgot it, nor failed to prove it to her at every opportunity. Back in the moment at hand, Benton pressed on. "Dear, may I prevail upon you for two glasses of water?" "Of course," Rachel amiably replied. "Professor, would you like iced water?" "Yes, thank-you." "Benton?" "The same." "I'll be back in a few moments." And Rachel then left the room. The Professor felt compelled to make small talk while he and Benton waited for their water. "Your home is quite large, Doctor. Do you and your wife manage it by yourselves?" "Not hardly. We most definitely need help, here." "This is your family estate?" the Professor then asked. "It is. My fathers have lived on these grounds for over ten generations." "Well, I must say that they've built well here. I'm very much impressed." Benton smiled. "I thank you for them, Professor." Rachel then returned with two glasses and a pitcher of iced water, and with the thanks of the two men just as quickly left. "How much do you know about the White Cape Mountain land dispute, Dr. Quest?" the Professor now seriously asked. "Only that it's a contention between the Atlantic Coast Paper Company and the more educated members of the Penobscot tribe," Benton replied, pouring water first for his guest and then for himself. "Thank-you," the Professor said as he accepted his glass. "Yes, the Penobscot and Piscataquis Indians claim to own all of the lands around White Cape Mountain, while Atlantic Coast Paper Company holds the actual legal title. But there's something else. Both the Penobscots and the Piscataquis have lived in those forests for generations, in great health. Yet very recently they have begun to fall ill. It is a problem that is obvious in them all, but one that is worst among their young." "You suspect environmental poisoning by the Atlantic Coast paper mill on Moosehead Lake?" Benton asked. It was not exactly a question. "Either by that operation, or the one on Chesuncook Lake. I suspect that it's the latter. Moosehead Lake, as you no doubt know, is a very popular recreational lake. And because it's public, the Atlantic Coast Company has just a small plant there that mills high grade lumber for construction purposes. Chesuncook Lake, on the other hand, is located entirely within those lands that are owned and harvested by Atlantic Coast. They have an absolutely huge operation there. Yet something even deeper is going on. There have been a number of disappearances, ones that are as yet unexplained in that we've so far discovered no evidence of foul play." "And you need help at uncovering the cause of these mysterious disappearances?" Benton asked. "And with the environmental aspect of the matter, as well," the Professor admitted. "The Penobscots have an ancient and outstanding claim to those lands, their having lived on them for centuries. Having done so in good health for so very long, they believe that the relatively new Atlantic Coast mill is the cause of their also new and mysterious un-health. They are therefore contesting Atlantic Coast's right to operate the paper mill, hoping to have them shut down by Federal court order. The U.S. District Court having jurisdiction over Maine is now waiting on my report in order to issue their ruling. If I issue a favorable report, Atlantic Coast will have to shut down their operation and clean up the area. If I issue an unfavorable report, the Penobscots and the Piscataquis will have to back down. As for the disappearances, I have absolutely no idea where to begin at explaining them, hence my coming to yourself for help. I'm told that even though you're young, you are as good as the very best in your field of expertise." "Interesting," Benton replied. "Perhaps my company might like to vacation with Rachel and I in the White Mountains." "I don't know that I'd agree with bringing your wife and your guests in on this issue, Doctor. It seems to me to be quite dangerous." "Yes, and that's precisely why I'd prefer to go with at least a few friends." Professor Traylor studied Benton. He saw before him a auburn haired man of six feet of height, one who had yet to grow the facial hair that would soon come to distinguish him in his middle years, but one who returned Traylor's own scrutiny through serious blue eyes. He looked like a man who knew EXACTLY what he was doing. "Well, the decision to participate is yours. It seems to me that I am in no position to tell you how to do so," the Professor admitted. "May I at least ask whom you and your wife are expecting for company?" "Dr. Alain Louis Carpentier, and his wife and son," Benton replied. "A good environmental man, that one. His work with Woods Hole has been followed with great interest by oceanography and the scientific community as a whole." "Indeed. Rachel and I became good friends with the Carpentiers three years ago, while I was at MIT and Alain was working with Woods Hole as they prepared to deploy with ALVIN on its deep core missions." "Yes, the ones where they discovered a misdirection of the eastern deep currents in the North Atlantic. As I recall, they concluded that the changes in those currents are attributable to the general effects of global warming." Benton nodded. "More evidence that it's been much, much more serious in its impact than we originally thought." "The more we come to understand it, the sooner the various world governments will come to deal with it. They of course cannot do so soon enough, and all such work as Dr. Carpentier's is of inestimable value both in cataloging global warming's full impact and moving mankind towards dealing with it. ...Well, there are a number of cabins which may be rented around Moosehead Lake. I have one, myself. If you and your wife and friends decide to take part in what's going on up there, I can secure a large one for all of you. It seems to me that it would be best to base you somewhere on the eastern lakes, possibly Pemadumcook or Southern Jo-Mary Lakes, should you take part. Atlantic Coast operates a second high grade lumber mill on Ambajesus Lake, which of course adjoins those others. I've yet to study the environment in the eastern regions at all." Benton nodded in agreement. "Let me know how to get in touch with you, and I'll let you know this Thursday what we decide." Traylor wrote the instructions down and handed them to Benton. "I'm out in left field up there." "No telephones, I see. You have to boat for phone calls." "I check in at that number twice each day," the Professor replied. "I'll receive your answer Thursday night." "That you will." The Professor rose to leave, though he did not extend his hand when Benton also stood up. It would have been improper of him to do so in that he had not yet reached a consensus with his host, who after all that was said might not decide to come to Moosehead Lake after all. Traylor didn't know Benton very well. "Dr. Quest, I thank you for your time." "We'll see what Alain thinks about joining you up at the lake, Professor. I might still come without him." And Benton saw his guest to the front door. Professor Traylor then left and Benton returned to his study, where he sat down at his desk and took thought. Yet he left the door open, which Rachel knew meant that he wouldn't mind her breaking in on his reverie. She soon entered and spoke to her husband. "You look as though the professor had something serious to say." "Yes. He needs immediate help up in the White Mountains." "Oh?" Rachel arched her glorious eyes in reply, smiling a bit impishly. Benton laughed and took her hand, surprising her by drawing her onto his lap. She then openly smiled, and she kissed him. "God, I love you!" he told her. "Me you, too!" she replied ala Lady Greystoke. "Just exactly why did you come in Mrs. Evans' place when I called for water?" the Doctor wondered. Rachel's impish smile became an outright grin. "I felt like showing off for you." Benton couldn't help but burst out in laughter. "You did not!" "Actually, I did. But in all honesty, Mrs. Evans was busy preparing lunch when you called." "I see," Dr. Quest smiled. He then kissed his lady before once again becoming serious. "Listen: they've had several unexplained disappearances up there. Joining Traylor could be going in harm's way." "I go where you go, remember?" Rachel lovingly said. "Ye'es, but what about Alain, Michelle, and Jordan?" "But me no buts, sir, when you most clearly know my answer to such a question." She had known her man for only a few years, yet they were perfectly matched and fully confident in one another. "Lord, did I ever marry well!" Benton smiled. "So did I," Rachel told him. And at her final word, her accompanying kiss cut off all possibility of his debating with her any further at that time. Quest Family Estate 23 July, 1984 (Thursday) 1312 Local Time The Pontiac Grand Prix rental car pulled up in front of Benton's home, and from it emerged a trio of black-haired and blue-eyed folk who wore open grins, ones which the Quests returned with great exuberance. Hugs were exchanged, and warm words of welcome, and the newcomers then fell under closer scrutiny. They were French/Canadians from Montreal, Quebec. The tallest, Dr. Alain Louis Carpentier, 6'2", was a 35 year-old oceanographer, and a man of both considerable intellect and humor who spent what seemed to his wife to be about half his life working with the Wood's Hole Oceanographic Institute. Yet the Doctor would soon become even more busy as he preceded San Diego's Scripps Institute of Oceanography on a major new project in the South Pacific Seas. Lastly, Alain was an outdoors man ranging all of the way from mountain climbing to scuba diving. As a result of that, he was in fine physical condition. Not a fighter, but rather someone would could work all day on the most rigorous manual labor and still come home with enough energy to wrestle with his son long enough to wear the boy out. Alain's wife, Michelle Coleen Carpentier, 30, was also quite tall. At a lithe 5'11", she was herself a master of arts in foreign languages. But she had been born to that, having had tri-lingual parents. Michelle's real academic work was done in pursuit of her doctorate in European History, and along the way she had earned a bachelor's degree in accounting. Yet where her husband was outgoing, Michelle was purposefully reserved. She was actually a standout soul who could easily lead her little family if for any reason Alain couldn't do it. She was also stunningly beautiful, as though she was the nighttime's cool moon to Rachel's being the golden light of day. But, as Benton himself often said, and as Alain often agreed: "The skies of our lives could not be more graced." The last of the three arrivals was a likewise lithe boy of eleven, who in sharing his mother's looks had jet black hair and looked upon his parents and the Quests through the deepest shade of blue eyes that Benton had ever seen. "True blue," Rachel often called them. His name was (Louis) Jordan Carpentier, at the moment quite a fine little artist. In fact, after bestowing strong hugs on Rachel and Benton, his eyes began to scan his surroundings for the high ground. Benton noticed it right away. "Well, Jordi. I see that you still draw." "Uoi, Docteur." The boy answered in flawless French. Benton looked sharply at Alain, grinning in the know. "The language game again, my friend?" "Oh, yes. It would be a shame if his gift in languages were to waste away, and so Michelle and I have him converse with us in each language that he knows. Actually, I should have had him use English today. We're so accustomed to playing the game that we forget our good manners in changing to those languages of our hosts." Benton laughed. "Rachel and I love to practice with you. And its his and Michelle's gift, my friend." Alain smiled. "And my blessing. I've more than doubled my own language skills just from practicing with them." "French, English, German and Russian?" Benton asked. "And Latin, though he's only now beginning to learn it. The others are all crib languages to him, as they were with Michelle." Crib languages are those that one knows from as early as his or her first memory, and Alain was saying that his wife and son had never NOT known four languages. When they were alone together, Alain spoke to Jordan in French, and Michelle addressed her son in German even though she was of unblemished French descent. Their long-time neighbors were Russian immigrates, and English was spoken by many Montrealiers as a matter of course. Benton laughed. And looking back at the boy, he gestured towards the tall lighthouse that was a part of his property. "Le phare, Jordi. Emploi le escalier." (The lighthouse, Jordi. Use the stairs.) "Merci. ...Ma père?" Jordan replied, thanking Benton and asking his father for permission to go. "Aller tu pouvoir," Alain replied. And the boy was off in an instant. "Shall we follow him? I'd prefer to make certain that he doesn't spend more than a few minutes studying the area here." It made Benton chuckle. "Surely he wouldn't stray." "He's becoming a bit of a romantic. It's his first time to see your estate, and it's magnificence is bound to have an impact on him." "I see. ...Dear?" "Michelle and I will be inside," Rachel smiled and replied. "Shall we?" And Benton led Alain after Jordan. "He really is very good at languages." Dr. Carpentier agreed, though with at least one reservation. He even laughed about it. "He speaks French in the manner of a child, saying 'ma père' in place of the more precise, 'mon père.'" Benton reared his head back and laughed with great gusto. "Surely attributable to a mother who loves such things!" "Indeed. We will correct it in him at the appropriate time." "How goes the search for a site for your research facility?" Dr. Quest asked as they walked. Alain beamed. "It's to be located at Rendova!" "The Solomon Islands," Benton knew. "That's about as far away as is possible." "Yes, but it's contiguous to a wealth of marine life. We'll grow the shallow water lab right in the cove, and the deep water pressure experiments are to be tried in the Marianas." "Whew!" Benton whistled. "Do you think you could have found deeper water!" he laughed. "Not hardly," Alain smiled in reply. The Marianas Trench was some of the deepest water in the world, in some places measuring over seven miles straight down into the abyss. "How in the world will you work so far down?" Benton wondered. "We won't be going farther under than SEACLIFF can currently go. It will take less than one week to set the anode in place using the submersible, and the rest we can do with deep water ROVs." "What of your cold water events?" Benton then asked. "Back east somewhere. I'm most definitely going to be ready to run those experiments much closer to Michelle and Jordi." Dr. Quest was surprised by that. "Whoa! You're not taking them with you into the Pacific?" "It's not going to be 'Dr. Michelle Colleen Carpentier' unless she remains close to the University of Montreal. And she will not be separated from our son. I'm not looking forwards to being away from them for so long, myself. But what I and Scripps are going to be doing... well, I've explained it to you in depth. You know that we must make the attempt." "Best for all the world if you're right, my friend," Benton agreed as the reached the lighthouse door. "Let's go up." And soon they were at the top with Jordan. After a few minutes, Alain made a little gesture to Benton, and Dr. Quest led his guests back downstairs. Somewhat before bedtime, and well after Benton had called the number at Moosehead Lake in order to inform Professor Traylor to expect the company of the Quests and Carpentiers, all five of them were relaxed in the great room of Benton's mansion as they waited to hear back from the Professor. The four adults quietly discussed the White Cape Mountain land dispute, while the boy lay prone on the floor, lost in thought as he finished his portrayal of Benton's estate that he had been working on since just after dinner. Like the language game, the drawing was a test of Jordan's mental and spiritual powers. And powerfully did he answer, proudly rising and presenting both himself and his work for his father's review. "Excellent!" Alain replied, handing the drawing over to Michelle and Rachel, and then hugging his amazing son. "My goodness!" Michelle softly exclaimed. "Wow!" Rachel agreed as she also judged the boy's drawing. Lastly, Benton himself studied the picture. "Amazing. He seems to have remembered every detail." "I'm a bit embarrassed about his additions to such scenes, though," Alain admitted. Dr. Quest smiled. He had seen several of Jordan's drawings since he had known the Carpentiers, and in every last one that had a body of water, the boy had added to it his thoughts of what his father's South Seas project might look like once it was finished. Indeed, Dr. Carpentier had a dream which inspired his son. The man wanted to grow cities in the sea, and Jordi was totally and fully caught up in the idea. "I'm impressed both by your respective visions and with Jordan's memory," Benton replied. "He seems to have quite a strong mind." "He's my pride and joy," Alain smiled and said. "Yes," Michelle just as warmly replied as her eyes met those of her son. Being so completely caught up in her love for him, she seemed not to notice the eyes of the others as they studied her. Michelle was ready to try for a daughter, in her words, "to achieve a kind of balance in my family," and both Alain and the Quests hoped to see it happen in exactly that way. Benton looked once more at the picture, and then smiled at the boy. "It's amazing how you blended the cliffs of the coast of Maine into the tropical aspects of the southwest side of Rendova Island. You envisioned my home on the high side of the southern hook of the cove there?" "Yes, Dr. Quest, and ours is on the far side," Jordan showed him. On the far side of the cove that Jordan had drawn was the Carpentier's little house nestled among the soaring hills and jungle trees of the Solomon Islands. The topography alone would have made their home hard to see, though as the Quests both knew, the Carpentier's lived very modestly in spite of his being wealthy on the terms of near Avarice. Alain explained that his family had lived like that ever since they had moved to Canada. Benton privately believed that they were consciously trying just as hard as they could to NOT stand out and be noticed. Dr. Quest smiled at that. Alain himself was an amazing looking man, and his wife and son were at least three times more so. It was those EYES and their facial structure, height, and lithe general appearance. Rachel most often described Michelle as being "regal," and Jordan as being "elfin." The doctor looked at them both very briefly, deciding that his wife's descriptions were right on the money, and that they could try as hard as they could. The Carpentiers stood out like three red roses growing in a cotton field. He then looked once more at the little house in Jordan's drawing. "By God, there it is!" Benton exclaimed. "Alain, did you notice it?" Dr. Carpentier rose and let Benton show him, and Rachel also joined them. "Look at that!" she said. Yet she saw that Michelle stayed where she was, her eyes merry. "You noticed it the first time that you looked, didn't you?" "I had guessed that he would include our home. He has in several other such works, though he normally draws it in the foreground where yours is in tonight's picture." Alain frowned. "Then I'm obviously not spending enough time with him. I should have guessed that he'd include it, myself." Michelle knew her man, and thus why he was hurting. She also knew what to do about it. Alain currently spent no more than a tenth of the time that he wanted to with their son, and all three of them knew that his leaving for Rendova meant that the matter would only become much worse. "You have captured his mind, and he shares your dreams. At heart he is likewise devoted to you. The same fires burn within you both, and one day he will follow you, or your dreams, to Rendova, to do everything that he himself can do to see that your shared vision indeed comes to pass." Dr. Carpentier considered that, then spoke to his wife. "It holds true, then." Michelle smiled. "He knows YOU, Alain. And in knowing your own heart and mind, you may always know your son." And after a moment of soaking up the sight of him, Michelle took Jordan in her arms, and kissing him goodnight, sent him off to bed. The boy hugged everyone else and was swiftly gone after wishing them all goodnight... this time in English in accordance with his father's wishes. "God, I love him!" Rachel quietly exclaimed. "Do you still want one like him?" Michelle asked. "Absolutely! And soon, I might add!" A smiling Benton met her eyes and nodded in agreement. "The White Cape Mountain land dispute," Alain quietly recalled after a few moments. "It's going to be interesting, all right," Benton told him. "I wish that Traylor would call back," Rachel said. "We need to spend tomorrow setting up our trip to Moosehead Lake, and the details of that are up in the air until we know where he's having us placed." "We can expect it to be in someplace quite remote," Benton knew. Alain again spoke. "I believe we should pack in everything that we need to eat. We won't want to fish, or even hunt for food with the possibility of widespread environmental poisoning of those lands." "I absolutely agree," Benton replied. "I've got the answer to our problem of moving all that we'll want to take with us out in my garages." "Your motor home?" Michelle asked. "Possibly. But I was thinking more along the lines of my Sea Ray. Professor Traylor seemed to indicate that we'd be getting a cabin right on the lake." Just then the phone rang. Benton answered it, and the others saw his face go straight to hell as he carried on the one-sided telephone conversation. "Yes? ...No, we're still coming. Have you any idea where he wanted us to set up? ...Very well. Hold on to that for us, and we'll be with you Saturday by Noon. ...Yes, Captain. Good evening." And when Benton hung up, his eyes were like ice. "He's disappeared, hasn't he?" Rachel asked. "It's a bit more distressing than that. Traylor's cabin was found as though it had been battered by a storm. Just totally torn apart. Again, there's little evidence of how it happened, nor have they found any sign of the Professor." "Oh, no." "Yes. ...Alain, have you any second thoughts about going up there with us?" "No. The basic approach which you earlier explained is sound. I'm convinced that we can safely implement it." "Why don't we leave Jordan here with Mrs. Evans?" Rachel asked. "It seems to me that he can be spared the danger of this trip." "No," Michelle replied. "If I'm going, and I am as long as Alain is, then Jordan will also go." "Absolutely," Alain agreed. "He knows how to protect himself, Rachel." "In practice, Alain. Where we're going, the danger will be real." "He goes," Alain confidently said. And at that, Rachel fell silent on the matter. End Part I The White Mountains of Maine 25 July, 1984 (Saturday) 1022 Local Time The Quests and Carpentiers left the coast of Maine far behind. Having hitched up Benton's Sea Ray cruiser to the Quest's Chevy Blazer, all were now riding high within the White Mountains towards Moosehead Lake. Benton and Alain sat in the front seats, while in the back Michelle sat with Rachel and read out loud from encyclopedia Encarta a short geographical history of Highland Maine. It was a story which was old to Benton, Rachel and Alain, but new to Jordan. Nevertheless, everyone listened intently as Alain's wife read. "'All of Maine was once covered by glaciers, the last of which receded about 10, 000 years ago. Because of the glaciers, much of Maine is covered with stones, boulders, and clays. Many of the hills and mountains have been rounded, lakes have been formed, and river courses have been changed, all as a result of the recession of ancient glaciers. Although these glaciers once covered all of Maine, there are nevertheless substantial physiographic differences in the regions of the state. "'Maine can be divided into three major pysiographic areas, or natural regions: the White Mountain section, the New England Upland, and the Seaboard Lowland. These three regions are part of the New England province, which in turn forms part of the Appalachian Region. "'The White Mountains'— where we are right now, Jordi— 'occupy much of the western and central parts of Maine, and are the most rugged and thickly forested area of the state. Elevations of the mountains are between 2,500 ft and 4,000 feet. Mount Katahdin, in the central part of the state, is Maine's highest mountain at 5,268 feet. The mountains are composed largely of granite and have been severely worn down by glaciers and otherwise eroded. Hundreds of lakes are located within the White Mountain region, and most of Maine's rivers rise there.'" "HUNDREDS of lakes," Jordan dreamily said as he looked out the Blazer's back window at the attached Sea Ray. He was currently perched among the packs behind the back seat, entirely comfortable, and consequently fighting off falling asleep. Indeed," Benton replied. "Besides being mountainous and heavily forested, the Central Maine highlands contain an incredible system of lakes and ponds, many of which are connected by navigable streams, and all of which surround White Cape Mountain and its sisters on three sides. White Cape Mountain, which is itself surrounded by the smaller mountains of Big Spencer, Baker, Elephant, Barren, Wadleigh, Jo-Mary, Saddleback, and an odd mountain known only as 'Number 4,' rise over the large and popular lakes of Moosehead and North Bay. Moosehead Lake and North Bay are in turn connected by streams to the smaller Brassua Lake and the even smaller Long Pond, Wood Pond, Attaen Pond, Holeb Pond, Parlin Pond, Indian Pond, Spencer Pond and Spencer Bay. This is the lake system on White Cape Mountain's west side. To the north of White Cape is an even more complicated lake system that is centered around Chesuncook Lake. This lake system, which is again connected by navigable streams, is comprised of Chesuncook Lake, Ragged Lake, Lobster Lake, Caribou Lake, Seboomook Lake, Canada Falls Lake, Loon Lake, Caucomgomac Lake, Shallow Lake and Longley Lake. To the east of White Cape Mountain is a third lake system that's centered on Pemadumcook Lake and Ambajesus Lake. Like the lake systems to White Cape's north and west, the Pemadumcook/Ambajesus lakes system is connected by navigable streams to Millinocket Lake, Quakish Lake, Twin Lakes, Northern and Southern Jo-Mary Lakes, Debsconeag Lake, Rainbow Lake, Nahmakanta Lake, First Roach Pond, Second Roach Pond, and lastly, Third Roach Pond." "Yech!" Rachel smiled and exclaimed. "All those roaches!" Michelle just looked at her Maine data in obvious chagrin before putting it away in deference to Benton's expertise. Rachel had to laugh about it. "And we thought that Jordi had a great memory!" "Really!" Alain agreed with an open grin. "Your family really has lived in Maine for a long time, Benton. You know the land well." "Oh, yes," Dr. Quest agreed. "Which lake are we going to?" Jordan asked. Benton smiled and met his young friend's eyes in the Blazer's rearview mirror. "Southern Jo-Mary Lakes, Jordi. But we'll be working on all three lake systems." "Good!" the boy hugely smiled. "So very ready, Jordan Carpentier?" Michelle smiled and asked. Jordan answered her with a hug and a kiss. "You know, this country really calls to me," Rachel said after several more miles of such lovely scenery. "New Mexico had everything but forests," Benton agreed. It was where his wife grew up. "How much farther is it to Twin Lakes?" she asked. Alain was doing the navigating. "About thirty more minutes, but we have to see the state police in Millinocket first. Call it an hour, all told." "All right," Rachel quietly replied. State Police Station Millinocket, Maine Noon "Professor Traylor's journal," a state police captain said as he handed Dr. Quest the senior scientist's log book. Benton opened it up to the last few pages and began to read. "None too revealing," he murmured after several minutes. "Was there no evidence at all as to what might have attacked his cabin?" "It looked as though a tornado went through there, Doctor," the Captain replied. "How soon do you want to fly over and see it?" "I can go right now, Captain. My wife and Dr. Carpentier can take my boat over to our cabin on Jo-Mary Lakes, and I noticed that your helicopter is equipped with floats. Your pilot can drop me off on our way back here." "Very well. You've got that list of state police radio frequencies that I gave you, right?" "All three copies, yes. Both my boat and my Blazer are equipped with radios that can transcieve on those channels, plus I have a very good mobile set in a backpack." "Can you keep your backpack radio's batteries charged? There's no electricity in the cabin we've rented for you." "I've brought along a portable generator, and my boat has long range tanks that will provide for the generator's fuel." "Un, huh. Well, you're the scientist. I'm not. Meet us on the helicopter pad in twenty minutes." "All right," Benton agreed. "What's our plan?" Alain asked as Benton joined the others outside. "Traylor's log seems to be a dead end, and his cabin has been combed over by the police. Nevertheless, I'm going to fly up there with them while you four go over to Jo-Mary Lakes with the boat. The state police pilot will drop me off at our cabin on his way back here." "All right," Alain agreed. "Have they provided you with the location of where we'll be staying?" "Oh, yes," Rachel replied. "We can put the boat in at Twin Lakes, then cruise around to Southern Jo-Mary Lakes in under an hour. Still," she then smiled, leaving the obvious question unasked. "You and Jordi can ski on the way!" Benton laughed. Jordan's face lit up right away. "All right!" Rachel replied as she messed her young friend's hair. "Shall we go, then?" Alain asked. And after kissing his wife good-bye, Benton watched them leave as the helicopter pilot arrived. Twenty minutes later, and about as many miles away, Dr. Quest flew over them and saw that they were just beginning to put the Sea Ray in the water at Twin Lakes. Half an hour later, the skiers, Rachel and Jordan, were in the water with their gear. He was a fine snow skier, but it was Rachel who had last year taught him to ski on water. The Carpentiers had planned a two week vacation with the Quests, and she hoped to have Jordan working well at slalom before the second week was out. Indeed, she was herself using a single ski and the shorter rope today. In turn, Jordan had two skis and the long line. "All set?" Rachel looked back over her left shoulder and asked. "Oui, Madame du Lumière," Jordan replied as he bobbed in the water behind her, the tips of his skis protruding properly before him. "'Madame du Lumière?'" Rachel smiled and asked. "My lady of light," he simply replied. Madame du Lumière grinned, turning on a bit more light for him, and then she turned to the business at hand... literally. "Signal." And both she and Jordi each put up one closed fist. In the cockpit of the cruiser, Alain was driving while Michelle watched the skiers. "Go!" she told her husband, and Dr. Carpentier advanced the boat's throttles expeditiously. The craft, its name was QUESTOR'S RECESS, was a Sea Ray 230 DA, twenty-three feet of light overnight sporting cruiser with a no-kidding-around 190 horse power, five liter engine that brought both Rachel and Jordan out of the water, right away. A few seconds later, Michelle saw her son take one hand off of his rope in order to smile and wave. She in turn laughed and clapped for both skiers so that they knew that she was impressed with their talents. A moment later, Rachel, who was on the right rope, went right in order to ski fast and low, and put up a rooster tail that gleamed quite satisfactorily in the afternoon July sunshine. In answer, Jordan went left and did the same. He fell. "Jordi is down!" Michelle told Alain. And he pulled a bit of power off and put the boat in a medium right turn that would allow Rachel to see Jordan as they came about. A few moments later, Alain slowed down, and Rachel released her rope so that she ended up sinking down about twenty feet away from the boy. "Are you all right?" she asked him as she swam over, pushing her single ski before her. He was floating on top of his own boards, smiling hugely. "I hit kind of hard, but I'm okay. That was fun!" "Try not to do too much until you're once again used to it," Rachel smiled and said. She then signaled for Alain to come around again with the ropes, and in five minutes they were once again skiing. This time Jordan didn't try to over-ski, and they made it all the way around to the south end of Northern Jo-Mary Lakes, where Michelle signaled them to release as Alain slowed down and came about. In a few more minutes, both skiers were back aboard the boat. "How come we had to stop?" Jordan asked his mother. "Do you see that narrow channel just ahead of us? We have to go through there in order to come into Southern Jo-Mary Lakes." "We're stowed, Alain," Rachel reported as she and Jordan put away the last of their gear. "Then here we go." And Dr. Carpentier slowly took the boat down the narrow way towards the next lake. It was only about a half a mile long channel, about one hundred feet wide and lined with tall grasses and reeds, and it soon enough opened up into Southern Jo-Mary Lakes. This was not a large body of water at all, though it was deep, and the heavily wooded peaks of Jo-Mary Mountain and Ragged Mountain rose well above it. The lake was no more than a mile and one-half wide by two and one-half miles long, and Alain saw exactly three cabins on its edges, all of which he knew were currently uninhabited. But he knew which one soon wouldn't be, and he made straight for its little dock. "This place is spooky," Rachel commented with a bit of a frown. Alain managed to laugh a bit in agreement. "And you're seeing it in broad daylight. What it might look like in the deep of a foggy night could be truly scary." Neither Michelle nor Jordan made any comment at all, and soon they arrived at the dock beneath their cabin, a fairly large and sturdy looking wooden structure at the top of a set of maybe fifty wooden steps. The entire little homestead was set up just within the tree line, which Alain could tell was dangerous in that the woods were dense. Alain spoke again. "Rachel, why don't you take the wheel while I check out the bottom? We need to tie up the boat as close to the shore as we can so that the helicopter can extend its rotor over the dock in such a way as to allow Benton to step right out." "All right." Alain then went over the side and began to explore the area around the dock. It was a floating pier of perhaps seventy feet in length, and the water stayed fairly deep all of the way up to the shore. Satisfied, Dr. Carpentier walked up onto the bank, then onto the dock, where he signaled for Rachel to bring the boat on up. She did so quite expertly, coming in nose first with the dock to her left, then swinging the stern around so that it pointed towards shore as the port side of the Sea Ray came up gently against the padded quay. Alain then tied up the stern, while Jordi jumped down and tied up the bow. "That was one nice approach!" "Thank-you, Alain," Rachel replied. "Let's take a look at our lodge, shall we?" And soon they were all inside. "This is going to be nice!" Michelle smiled. The cabin had two rooms, two baths, a little kitchen and dining area, and a nicely appointed common room, over which was a loft. "Upstairs, Jordi." "Oui, ma père." And the boy carried his things up to the loft as his father followed him. "I like it!" he saw at the top. "It looks to be cozy," Alain agreed. "Put your bags on the bed so that you can come help me unload the boat." "Let's go," Jordan replied. And they did. Moosehead Lake 1500 Local Time Professor Traylor's cabin appeared exactly as it was described, as if a tornado had leveled it. There was no evidence of gunfire, or of fire period. Nor was there any blood, anywhere at all. "This is as mysterious as it can be," Benton admitted. The state police captain then spoke up. "Look at this, though." And he gave Dr. Quest a piece of what looked like the cabin's wall. "It looks to be carved somehow. Have you given a piece of it over to forensics?" "Yep. FBI forensics, at that." "Good," Benton said. "Make sure that I'm on the list of those who receive their report, will you?" "You are, already." "I'd like to take either this piece or another for an analysis of my own, if it's possible." "Sure, Doc. We've got all of the samples and evidence that we want, so you can have this one. You'll need to sign for Professor Traylor's journal if you want to keep that." "Yes, I'll need to review his work to date before I meet with the representatives from Atlantic Coast." "Anything else you need here?" Benton wanted to say, NOT AT THIS TIME. But the state police and the FBI had picked the site apart, and he didn't want to encourage the Captain to keep a guard on duty any longer. "I believe that we have everything that I'll need from this incident. For now, I'd like to get back with my company and begin a detailed review of the Professor's log." "All right." Jo-Mary Lake 1900 Local Time "You the man!" Rachel grinned for Benton, who was currently presiding over the grilling of dinner. The sizzling steaks which he had just produced were, as usual, aromatically and visually as satisfying as she knew that they would taste. "Thank-you, my dear!" Dr. Quest grinned in reply. Alain was likewise impressed. "Such a master! Does he usually do so well?" Rachel laughed. "Oh, yes! I grew up on steaks, and with one exception he beats everyone that I've ever known!" "I have to guess that the incomparable master griller must be Mr. Wildey." "You've guessed correctly!" "Come and get it!" Benton waved at Michelle and Jordan, who were down at the end of the dock. He was swimming. She was watching, simply enjoying being with him. But both wasted no time at all at answering the call to dinner, which was served out front on the cabin's covered wooden deck. "That looks good!" Michelle said. "Wait until you taste it!" Rachel replied. Alain slowed everyone down as he led off by saying grace, giving thanks in the main for family, friendship, and health, but not at all forgetting the providence of the steaks. Everyone then sat down and enjoyed their meal, though the two men sat off to the side and discussed just a bit of business. "Did you come to the same conclusion that I did regarding that piece of wall that you brought back from Traylor's cabin?" "I did," Benton quietly replied. "It looks as though you're right about all of this." "I sure do hope that I'm not." Dr. Carpentier agreed. "I'm not holding out much hope for it, but you're right. That piece of evidence could have been placed there to mislead us." "The FBI will be able to give us better information," Benton replied. "Truly. ...But enough of it for now. Tell me: do the sunsets in these mountains always backlight the far hills as the sun is this evening?" That made Benton smile. "Oh, yes. But you should see it in the winter season." "Yes," Alain also smiled. Somewhat after Midnight, Alain, Michelle, and Rachel were asleep, and Benton was sitting on the common room sofa, just finishing reading Traylor's journal when Jordan came down from the loft looking for a drink. "Non sommeil cette nuit?" the Doctor asked. "Un pauvre rêve," the boy replied. "A bad dream? Had you been dwelling on our reclusive surroundings just before you fell asleep?" Jordan nodded with a wan little smile. He was tired. "Come here and sit down," Benton kicked back and said. Jordan joined him and snuggled up under one arm, resting his head on the doctor's chest. "So you skied well today, did you?" "I fell once. Almost right away, actually." "Oh? And what did Rachel say about that?" "She told me not to try to do too much until I'm once again used to skiing." Benton had to smile, knowing full well that his amazingly insightful wife had laid the bait and caught this preeminent little adolescent at an overt act of one-upmanship. The boy was about to begin his difficult years, and Rachel had wanted to know if he might be becoming "difficult" to teach. "And you did exactly as she told you to do?" "Always. I could never make her unhappy." "Did you really call her 'Madame du Lumière?'" Dr. Quest asked. "Yes. She's really like that... at least to me." "Oh, I absolutely agree with you. But tell me: when did you begin to name ladies in French?" "I've always thought about them like that," Jordan quietly said as he once again began to grow sleepy. "'Thought,' but not actually spoken about them like that until recently?" Jordan hesitated for a moment, either because he was considering his reply, or because he was just too exhausted to answer right away. "Yes," he quietly agreed. HE'S EXHAUSTED, the doctor decided. Dr. Quest himself rolled a few things over in his mind. Regarding Jordan, Benton realized that, while the boy was developing quite nicely, he had one fault: he was suffering from the beginnings of arrogance. He was good, and he knew it based on all of the love and praise that he received. This in turn was causing him to become just a bit too confident in himself, and it showed. The doctor was resolved to find a tactful way to let Alain know that he could see it. LATER, THOUGH. "Do you have a French name for your mom?" the doctor asked. Jordan really was back on the doorstep of the sandman, because he didn't answer at all. "Are you still with me, Jordi?" the doctor quietly asked. "Um, hmm. ...I call mother, Mère la Luna." "'Mother the Moon?' She does have that kind of glow about her, doesn't she." But Jordan had fallen asleep, and so he did not answer. Benton smiled, thanked God for the goodness of Jordi, prayed that the boy would always be so, then covered them both up with a quilt that had been folded on the back of the sofa. And so they both slept well until sunrise, neither having noticed that the fog had rolled in. End Part II