Thunder of the Gods Pt. 01-02

My story, THUNDER OF THE GODS, is a product of my imagination, although knowledge of certain aspects of the tale come from my experiences. In its entirety, it is ~ 45,000 words long, so I have chosen to release it in several parts, constituting a total of 19 chapters. This first part, Chapters 1& 2 , sets up the entire story, as does the increasing eroticism. The story's evolving sexual situations build towards a bizarre denouement at the end.

Prologue

It was two years ago that I first met him, while on an expedition to the lower Rio Oscuro in western Belize to study crocodiles in the area. Early one morning, as I paddled my canoe around a bend in the river, I came upon the strange apparition of a muscular and tanned man spearing fish from the bow of his dugout. As my craft drew abreast of his, he greeted me with a, "good morning, sir, and how are you enjoying our river?"

Although he appeared as a very tanned white man, his accent was similar to one of the local Maya, speaking English as a second language. He introduced himself as "Balam", which I knew to be a Maya equivalent of "jaguar", and after hearing of my research invited me to his camp on the nearby bank of the river.

I had been searching for a good campsite, as I planned to remain in the area for two months, and it was reassuring to have a fellow camper in this still remote part of the country. Balam said that he planned to remain in this spot for about a month, catching and drying fish for "his people", whom he said lived about a two-day journey upriver. He further explained that this was just about the best spot on the river for fishing, probably accounting for the large population of crocodiles. As the month progressed, Balam and I became well-acquainted, although it seemed that he was learning much more about me than I was about him. He was obviously a well-educated man, in itself an enigma considering his current occupation, but try as I might I could learn nothing about his background or about those he called "his people".

As the end of his stay drew near, Balam asked if I was going to return to this spot the following year. I answered in the affirmative, as I planned to study the crocodile population for at least five years. He seemed pleased, and indicated that he would be returning to fish and would bring something that he wished to entrust to me. We parted on friendly terms, and I remained in the area for additional month continuing my studies. I gradually forgot about Balam, although from time to time his peculiar visage would come to me in my dreams.

The following year I returned to the Rio Oscuro at the same time as the year before, only half-heartedly expecting to see Balam again. For almost six weeks there was no sign of him, and then one morning as the mist rose languidly off of the river, he appeared in his dugout as if from a dream. We embraced warmly, and he apologized for being so late for our rendezvous, stating that there had been a great sickness among his people. He told me that he was very worried about their future, and that it had made his decision to entrust me with what he had brought even more important. We sat around our campfire talking late into the night, the dancing firelight casting occult shadows across his somber face.

"Take this package with you when you leave tomorrow, my friend", he said, "but promise me that you won't open it until you return to your country. I know that you plan to return here next year, but I ask that you not to try to seek out me or my people", he continued. I agreed to his terms, wondering what he could be presenting to me that was so mysterious.

I kept my word to Balam and did not open his package until I arrived back at my home in the States. It was with deep fascination that I delved into his gift, which proved to be a journal of hundreds of pages of hand-written notes of the strangest nature. As I worked my way through them, it became clear that what I had received was either the work of a madman or a god. I knew that it was my duty to make his story known to the world, for this must have been why he had gone out of his way to entrust me with his laborious work. It is with some trepidation that I transformed his notes into the story that follows, as the tale told is so fantastic as to be unbelievable. Some may be offended by its erotic nature, but in this matter I have not embellished upon Balam's descriptions.

My part has been to render his notes into flowing prose, but nothing contained within is of my manufacture. I trust that the reader will view the work in its entirety, judging it as either the musings of a madman or an incredible tale of the occult. Either way I have taken pains to protect Balam's privacy, having changed the names of people and places where necessary to prevent readers from searching him out. The Rio Oscuro does not exist as a name, and my crocodile study has been terminated to prevent the publication of even that location. All I ask is that the reader take this literary journey with an open mind, reserving judgment until reaching the incredulous end.

FarmerSean

Roswell, New Mexico

Chapter 1

Philip Thorson carefully replaced the phone receiver as his mind raced in a hundred directions. Unfortunately for the immediate future, none of these directions included the class in Archeological Symbolism that he was due to teach in twenty minutes. He gazed out the window into the darkened skies that seemed to characterize Northbury in late January. Snow flurries churned about the building corners, threatening to add a few more inches to the two feet already on the ground, and adding an even greater aura of unreality to the news he had just received. Not only had his request for a sabbatical for next year been approved, but the college was going to finance his entire field season, including an assistant. This morning, the jungles of Belize and the unknown Maya ruins that he had discovered last summer seemed as far away as the moon. Today's news meant that within six months he would back at Akbalcab.

He had unofficially given the name Akbalcab, literally translated as darkness-honey in modern Maya, to what he felt would prove to be a major new site located in the foothills of the Maya Mountains in Belize. At this point he had no idea what the ancient center's original inhabitants called it, but his name was based on the prominent glyphs, located in what appeared to be the main temple, that could be translated as darkness-honey. This seemed to be a strange combination of words or ideas, and he hoped his year in the field would shed light on this name, the temple, and the intriguing tomb that he had located inside of it. His heart raced when he remembered the vibrant colors of the bizarre wall murals and accompanying glyphic messages, and he couldn't help comparing them to the incredible murals of Mexico's Bonampak. Akbalcab's combination of murals and messages promised to rival the famous Dresden Codex if he was right in his brief glimpse of the tomb that ill-fated night.

They should never have remained in the field as long as they did last August, but just as they were about to call it quits, Ismael had called him over to look at a dark hole they had overlooked earlier. Shining his light through the jumble of stone blocks, he could make out what appeared to be a set of stairs leading downward. They could hear the roar of distant rain approaching through the forest, and Philip knew that much more heavy rain would make the Rio Oscuro practically impassable. He looked in consternation at Ismael, who shrugged his shoulders and began to pick his way through the fallen rubble. Although he would later regret it, Philip followed eagerly and together they descended through the chaotic jumble. After what seemed like hours, they reached what appeared to be the bottom of the stairs. It almost looked like they had reached a dead end, but just beyond a fallen slab to the left Ismael pointed to an opening large enough to accommodate a head and arm. Philip carefully put his flashlight through and brought his face to the opening just as a piercing wailing assaulted their ears. It was coming from above, and proved to be the voice of their boatman Franco, who was screaming that in another half hour their boat would be gone and with it their chances of leaving the jungle. There was nothing to do but scramble back up the jumbled stairway, but what Philip saw in that instant at the bottom was etched in his brain.

The knock on his office door returned Philip from Belize to Northbury.

"It's almost time for you to take Dr. Lorenzo's class, Philip," his secretary reminded him.

"Thanks Emily," he chuckled, "without you to keep me on track I might have daydreamed all morning about Belize."

Philip decided that he might as well take this opportunity to announce the position vacancy for an assistant for his upcoming year of field work at Akbalcab. He would later make a general announcement to the Archeology Department and his other classes, but he was too excited about the impending project to wait to talk about it. Philip knew little about the graduate students in the current Archeological Symbolism class, since they were all first year students and the class was taught by Dave Lorenzo. As he entered the classroom, Philip noted that there were about a dozen students, which certainly meant that there were potentially one or two prospects for the position as his field assistant.

When he first submitted the proposal to the college for his study of Akbalcab and the intriguing tomb, Philip gave careful consideration to the necessary qualifications of an assistant. He was not as concerned with the technical abilities of the person as he was with their potential for withstanding the rigors of the field and isolation in the remote rainforest. All of the graduate students in archeology had reached at least a certain level of professional expertise in order to be accepted into the program, so that aspect should present no problem to him. He suspected, however, that very few of them had much experience with extended field work, and even fewer would have any appreciation of the Belizean rainforest.

Philip cut short his presentation of the class material for the day to talk to the students about his upcoming field study in Belize and the opening for the position of field assistant. He described the site in general terms, its' possible importance in the classical Maya world, and hinted at the discovery of the tomb and its potential significance. He was very careful to make clear the commitment that would be necessary to successfully assist the project for a year in the field, stressing the potential physical and mental hardships imposed by isolation in the forest. After covering details, such as the initiation date of the project and salary and expenses covered, Philip indicated to the class that any students interested in applying could stop by his office at any time to discuss the matter further.

The tower bells were chiming out six and Philip was just about to leave for the day, when she knocked at his door. He opened it to encounter one of the most engaging smiles he had ever seen. She looked familiar, and Philip then remembered that she had been one of the students in the Archeological Symbolism class that morning.

"Dr. Thorson, my name is Lacee Honige, and I hope you'll forgive me for coming by so late in the day," she said breathlessly. "I'm really interested in applying for the position as your assistant, but I've been in class all day. I ran all the way from Bartram Hall hoping that I would catch you before you left."

Philip looked at her slight stature, wondering if she would have the stamina to undertake the project that he had outlined in class, but decided to hear her out.

"Well, fortunately for you I haven't been too eager to beard this snowstorm," he said glancing out the window. "I'd like to hear more about your interest in the position."

Lacee proceeded to give a brief summary of her background, the most startling to Philip was the fact that she was from Belize. She went on to relate that she was half Maya Indian, her father having been an American geologist working in Belize who married her mother, a Maya Indian from the village of La Tigra.

"I know the region of your village," Philip responded, "although I'm sorry to say that I never actually visited it. I've spent quite a bit of time exploring the northern end of the Maya Mountains, but the closest I came to La Tigra was the village of Tunha, which I believe is about 10 miles to the west."

Lacee shook her head, "You probably know the area better than I do, since I lived in the village only until the age of seven. My mother died, and I moved with my father to the capital. He decided that I would have a better chance for an education in Belmopan," she continued, " he was closer to some of his colleagues with whom he was doing research at the time."

"How did you end up in Northbury?"

"We moved to Boston after I completed high school, and my father took a teaching position at Harvard. I decided to come here to major in archeology, and I plan to return to Belize to study the ancient Maya ruins of the country after I complete my Master's degree."

It was already dark on this winter night, and Philip decided that he'd better let Lacee get home before much later. He was fascinated with her story and offered to give her a ride home to continue their conversation. She indicated that she had a small apartment about a mile from campus, and they left his office in a gently falling snow.

As they were about to pass The Crypt, a local restaurant and pub, Philip suddenly asked, "how would you like to join me in some dinner?"

"I'd love it! This is one of my favorite places," she accepted, giving him another radiant smile.

Philip found himself inexplicably captivated by her. The two of them were in a world of their own in a corner of the pub, populated by a mixture of ancient and modern Maya visions, spiced with shared memories of the sights and sounds of the Belizean rainforest.

Philip was startled to discover that it was eleven o'clock. "Lacee, I'm really sorry about the time," he apologized.

She laughed, "It seems like we just arrived, and I could continue this all night!"

They left the warm pub to enter the frigid reality of Northbury, but neither of them seemed to notice the weather. Philip dropped Lacee off at her rooming-house, and she promised to come by his office to fill out the official application form for the field assistant position. As he drove off, Philip wondered if there could be any other applicants with the background to match Lacee's.

As the March first deadline for applications for the field assistant position approached, Philip began to realize that the obvious choice was going to be Lacee Honige. He had received three other applications and spoken at length to each applicant, two males and one other female, but none had the potential for extended field work shown by Lacee. He had spoken to Lacee a few times since their evening at The Crypt, and each time she had further impressed him with her natural friendliness and genuine interest in the Maya civilization. He now felt certain that she had the ability and background to cope with extended, isolated field conditions, and he looked forward to the prospect of sharing their interests for an entire year. With only two weeks remaining until Philip had promised to announce his selection of an assistant, he knew that at this stage it was only a formality and he found himself excited with anticipation over breaking the news to Lacee.

On March fifth, Philip told Lacee he'd pick her up at the tennis courts, with some very good news.

"Lacee, " he smiled and wasted no time in suspense, "it's a pleasure for me to offer you the assistant's position."

She beamed, responding with alacrity, "I'm more than happy to accept the offer, Dr. Thorson. I know you won't be disappointed in me."

"I'll only make one condition to the offer," he said, "you must call me Philip. After all, we're going to be together for an entire year, and that kind of formality would be a little silly. While we're at it, why don't you join me for dinner at The Crypt. It seems like that's where this all started."

"I shall join you at dinner with pleasure, Philip," she replied in mock formality.

Her smile of acceptance practically melted his brain. Now that the decision had been made Philip began to view her more personally, and he felt a little uncomfortable upon admitting just how attractive she was. He had been careful in trying to evaluate all the applicants equally, and none of the others came close to Lacee's background and potential. He hoped that her obvious physical charms had not subconsciously influenced him.

At just over five feet in height, Lacee appeared small next to his modest five feet ten, but those five feet were perfectly constructed. She was wearing a skirt today that ended well above the knees, and he couldn't help but admire her well-formed, naturally-tan legs, especially when she crossed them in the chair across from his desk. Her simple white top enveloped her breasts accentuating the nipples, quite obviously free of the constraints of a brassiere. Dark, flashing eyes were framed by her glossy black hair, which flowed gracefully to several inches below her shoulders.

As they left his office for the pub, Philip's eyes followed her trim hips and strong buttocks as she walked ahead, and he almost had to slap himself to keep from staring at her. He was grateful when she put on her coat and allowed his brain to return to thoughts of planning for the trip to Belize.

At The Crypt, Lacee and Philip settled into their corner and were once again lost in a maze of Maya visions. He described in more detail the ruins at Akbalcab, trying to paint a picture of the tomb that he had so tantalizingly glimpsed for a brief moment.

"It was like nothing I'd ever seen before, Lacee, and yet I had the strangest fleeting feeling of familiarity with the scene before me."

For a brief instant her brain flashed with an unsettling vision of fantastic figures and a darkened chamber. The inexplicable picture in her mind quickly faded as Philip described their plan of action for the next couple of months, most of which would involve securing the equipment and supplies they would need for almost a year in the field.

"Fortunately for us right now," Philip explained, "some of the necessary equipment will be loaned to us by the Belizean government archeologists, so we won't have to pack and haul all of it from here to Belize."

"How are we going to get all of it upriver to Akbalcab?", Lacee asked, although she thought she knew the answer.

Philip feigned exhaustion, answering "all of it will have to be transported upriver in canoes by us, with a little help from my friend Jose. His farm is our starting point on the Rio Oscuro."

Philip planned on them leaving at the close of the Spring term in early May, and they were to spend almost a month on the road before reaching Belize. Normally, the trip would have been much shorter, but Philip wanted to introduce Lacee to the Maya ruins at Palenque and on the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico. They would be driving his pickup truck, well-equipped with a camper for sleeping on the road. Philip felt a twinge of nervousness coupled with a flush of pleasure at the thought of Lacee and him sharing the small camper space, but he decided that they could work out sleeping arrangements when they were on the road. He concluded that they could start the trip by sleeping in motels, so that they could have separate rooms while they were getting to know each other better. Once again, time flew quickly by them, and at almost midnight they left to take Lacee to her apartment. In contrast to their first trip to The Crypt, they now knew that their lives were to be intertwined closely for some time into the future. Neither seemed to mind the thought of this prospect.