 
# Lightning

# World's Divide

# Book 1

# Ryan Hartung

All people in this book are a work of fiction that were birthed within the author's mind. Places, names, and everything in between are a complete work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places and events is purely coincidental.

Published 2014 By Molecularly Primed Publishing at Smashwords

Lightning: World's Divide Book 1

Copyright © 2014 Ryan Hartung

ISBN 978-1-942123-00-2 Electronic

www.ryanhartung.com

All rights reserved, No part of this book may be reproduced by any means without prior written permission, except in brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews. For more information, contact Molecularly Prime Publishing.

Cover illustration and interior design by Raven Tree Design

www.raventreedesign.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Death Book 2 Sample

Acknowledgements

About the Author

This book is dedicated to my beautiful wife Elizabeth.
I hope you enjoy this book. Reviews are always appreciated, and help both authors and readers.

## Chapter

## 1

BOOM!

Dust filled the chamber, clouding Colt Andrews's view. Coughing, he waved his hands, trying with little success to shoo the floating dust particles away. The other two members of his tiny archeological search team took a few steps backward as the dust slowly dissipated.

Colt slapped his worn blue jeans and tan button-down shirt with his red and yellowed-white baseball cap, causing miniature dust clouds to explode off his clothes. As the dust continued settling, Colt grimaced as the damage to the ancient stone temple door became more apparent.

"I said push the door, not break it down," Colt said scolding his assistant Dominic Barboa; who was still lying on the temple's sandy floor. Dominic had tried to budge the solid rock door by running and hitting it at full speed, only to bounce off its solid surface and onto the ground. However, the momentum built by his sprinting start had nevertheless done the trick. But instead of pushing the heavy stone slab inward, Dominic's rushing attack had hit the upper half of the door, knocking it off its center of gravity and causing the massive slab to crash to the floor.

"Sorry boss, guess I screwed up huh?" Dominic sullenly replied as he stood.  
"Naw, we needed that door opened one way or another. The way I see it, you just saved us over a week's time by not having to get a team in here to move it the right way," Colt replied half joking while half serious. Colt paused before entering the newly unsealed room and fingered the Greek name for Zeus etched into the temple wall. "What I want to know is what are ancient Greek and Roman symbols and text doing in a temple in the middle of the Amazon? Can either of you tell me that?"

Colt Andrews—or Sir Colt Andrews as the Queen of England had just knighted him three months ago—was one of the finest archeologists in the world. His attention to detail and immeasurable knowledge of ancient civilizations, coupled with an almost prophetic knack of discovering lost treasures left him with no equals.

Three weeks ago, deep in the Peruvian portion of the Amazon rainforest, a group of three American hikers had trekked to a remote citadel of the ancient Chachapoyas people. Unlike Peru's other darker-skinned ancient tribes, this particular race had been called the Warriors of the Clouds, as they were white skinned and had blonde hair.

While traveling through the ruins of the ancient city, the trio had accidentally stumbled upon a hidden underground passageway leading to a richly decorated temple after one of their party fell through a weakened tile slab outside of the citadel. The Peruvian government had then called the most respected archeologist in the world to come make sense of their newfound labyrinth.

"I don't know, maybe those other Americans carved it into the rock to screw with us," Colt's other assistant and girlfriend Hillary Chapman joked.

"Do you guys see that?" Colt asked, not paying attention to the joke. He pointed to a thin sliver of light emanating from a crack at the base of a far wall in the adjacent room.

"See what Colt?" Dominic asked. He squinted, but still didn't see anything. From Dominic's position the sun's bright light was still seeping into the ancient carved tunnel too much and was thus washing out any weaker sources of illumination.

"Follow me guys and watch your step," Colt ordered. He stepped through the threshold of the fallen door and into the next even more dimly lit room. After their eyes had adjusted to the room's darkness, Colt asked them again. "You two see it now?" He crouched low to the ground and waved his hand along the rocky crevice. For a few seconds his hand glowed a pale yellow. As he moved his hand away from the wall, the yellow light again dissipated into the dark room.

"What do you make of it?" Hillary asked.

"I'm not exactly sure, Hill. None of this makes any sense. What was a tribe of Caucasians doing in the Amazon? And why are these Roman and Greek symbols only carved in these underground rooms; not up above? I don't know why yet, but they must be interconnected somehow. Let's get out our flashlights and see what this next wall has to say."

Although the first two rooms had contained adequate lighting from the sun's afternoon rays as they shone through the American's accidental hole, the new more secluded chamber was beyond the light's reaches.

As the explorers entered the new chamber, three sources of unnatural pure white light switched on, bathing the room's far wall in their eerie glow. The team's flashlights, although powerful, were not a match for the sun's brilliant rays, causing the explorers to venture even closer to the far wall. The wall appeared to be one massive continuous slab of dark brown stone with another similar doorway cut into its middle. Colt shifted his attention from the wall and to the singular door. Etched into the giant stone slab was more of the ancient Greek writing.

"What's it say?" Dominic asked with a puzzling look. This being only his fourth trip with the world-renowned archeologist, Dominic had yet to pick up on the subtle differences between the ancient languages. When he had first agreed to join the team, Colt had left what Dominic considered a laughably huge stack of language and history books in his beaten up truck for some _light_ nighttime reading. Dominic now wished he had at least opened a few of thick dusty books instead of scattering them around his messy apartment.

Colt studied the stone door. Carved lightning bolts surrounded the door's edges. The bottom half of the stone slab featured another singular lightning bolt, which was ten times the size of the smaller ones adorning the door's edges. Covering the entire top half of the stone slab, however, was ancient Greek.

"It says: HERE LIES ZEUS, THE GOD OF LIGHTNING'S FINAL RESTING PLACE. THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE ZEUS." Colt read, scratching his head.

"What the heck does that mean?" Dominic asked.

"Not a clue. Only one way to find out though," Colt replied with a wry smile. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a long black iron crow bar.

Concerned, Hillary rested a soft hand on his arm. "What are you thinking? You can't just pry the door open. What if you damage it? Whatever's behind that piece of rock could be the find of the century."

"I know," Colt replied and patted her hand with his, trying to ease her worry. "Dom already busted down the first door, and I _need_ to see where that light is coming from."

Hillary saw the determination in Colt's eyes and reluctantly released her grasp and took a step back. Colt grabbed the iron tool and jabbed it into the door's sealed side with all his might. Chips of splintered rock sprayed his sweat-soaked shirt.

"No turning back now," Hillary muttered, unconvinced Colt's idea was a good one. Colt put his back into the crow bar and pushed with all of his might. The door didn't budge. He took a step back, leaving the crow bar precariously hanging out of the wall. Colt spit into his hands and rubbed them together.

"Here's looking at you, Dom," he said and took a running start towards the iron tool. An "umph," escaped Colt's lungs and mouth as his impact with the rigid metal bar forced out any excess air. Undeterred by the brief loss of stale unused air, he continued prying against the door and dug his shoes into the hard ground. Finally, the rough sound of rock grating on rock began to hum throughout the room. The door opened an inch and stopped. Although barely ajar, the unmistakable odd pale yellow light was now showing through the entire side of the partially opened stone door.

"Hey, wanna give me a hand here?" Colt asked Dominic optimistically.

"Sure. I've already broken one priceless artifact, what's another," he dryly replied. Dominic's two hundred pound Hispanic frame, when added to Colt's thickly muscled core, made quick work of the rocky doorway. With two coordinated pushes, using the crowbar as leverage, they opened the door enough to where they were able to wrap their fingers along the back of the door's side and begin pulling. Hillary then helped the two burley men scrape the massive slap of rock along the floor's smoothed stone tiles.

Once the stone door was fully opened, they each stared in awe. The pale white light from the inner room bathed them and their surroundings. It almost seemed brighter than the sun. Initially the light was too bright to look at directly, but as time passed their retinas adjusted to where brief glances at the object stopped initiating immediate watering of the eyes.

"I'm going in," Colt determinedly announced. With a hand he shielded his eyes and took a small step forward.

"Are you loco?" Dominic gasped. "You don't know what the heck that thing is. It's not natural, that's for sure. Maybe it's alien, maybe it really is from Zeus. I don't give a crap. Seriously, you shouldn't go in there."

"He's right," Hillary said. "That light's not natural. You better be careful." Hillary knew when it came to Colt's work the only person he ever listened to was himself. His belief in himself was what had made him so successful. Ever since she'd known Colt, he'd marched to his own tune. Maybe that was one of the reasons she was so attracted to him. What woman didn't want an overly confident man, whose sole purpose in life was to travel for adventure and fun?

Dominic and Hillary nervously watched as Colt disappeared into the room filled with light. Once inside the chamber, Colt was barely able to open his eyes more than the tiniest of slits. The light inside was pure and blinding. He wasn't sure how big the room was, maybe twelve feet by twelve feet. All Colt knew, was that the unknown object emitting the freakishly bright light was growing closer with each step.

As he continued, carefully footing his steps forward, he felt the room's temperature increasing the closer the light became. After a couple more steps, Colt's foot kicked something solid. He'd been in enough temples and seen enough Indiana Jones movies to guess the solid object was resting on a pedestal or some type of altar. Nervously and with shaking fingers, he reached out. His breathing quickened, while sweat beaded from every pore on his body. He touched the object.

ZZZIIIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGGGG!

Electricity pulsed through Colt's body. Pain. The only sensation he felt was pain. The electrical force of the shock blew him out of his shoes and against the room's far wall. His senses went dead.

## Chapter

## 2

"We don't have any other choice. The cost of oil is dropping like a rock, and with it each of our country's economic net worth," the Iraqi prime minister shouted and slammed his fist on the table in front of him. "The world is moving away from the one major commodity each of our countries possesses: oil. We _must_ decide here and now what we are going to do."

The presidents and prime ministers of almost all of the current members of the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries were convened in Baghdad, where ironically OPEC had been birthed decades ago. Now, they were heatedly debating OPEC's inevitable collapse.

The western technologies of lithium ion batteries, wind farms, and highly efficient solar arrays were decimating the world's appetite for their precious black gold. The countries were desperate for an answer. So desperate in fact, that even war with the West was on the table.

Only the United Arab Emirates' president was missing from the quickly convened meeting. Although under the guise of a traditional OPEC assembly the UAE president, as did the other nations' leaders, knew the gathering was about much more than oil. It was about survival. Long ago the UAE's governing body had wisely shifted their country's national image from not only being just an oil producing country, but a major economic hub in the Middle East.

Even though the UAE's president had declined the meeting's invitation, his country's ties to the Middle East were strong enough to diffuse any of the other presidents' worries about which side the United Arab Emirates would actually support if it came to war. The UAE had too much to lose to openly support the Eastern nations' agenda and would act as the Switzerland of the Middle East should any conflict arise.

Venezuela's president Ramirez raised a hand for calm. A tall, olive skinned man with wide shoulders and a head full of thick black hair, he somewhat resembled a Middle Eastern man, but yet was also very different.

"Comrades. We are in agreement that something needs to be done, no? Although Venezuela feels the same as Iraq, I'm not sure an all-out war is a viable option. If we can't convince the Russians or China to join us, our efforts will be in vain. The United States and Europe's military technologies are too highly advanced. We need the military might of at least Russia or China, hopefully both. Even if they choose to remain neutral, their non-action would spell our doom."

"Don't forget to include Israel with the West. They may not be the United States or close to your country, but in this region they are not a power to be taken lightly. Let us not forget their dominance of Syria, Jordan, and Egypt in only a matter of days in 1967," Libya's president interjected.

"Yes, yes, Israel cannot be overlooked," Venezuela's president affirmed before continuing. "I have only had limited conversations with my other South American brethren, but I believe if this body comes to an agreement on war they will join us. Too many years has the world looked down their noses at our South American nations. The United States is like a bat, sucking away at our hard work, our lifeblood, only to see its citizens prosper off our overly burdened backs. We are tired of being tread under their feet, and I believe Venezuela will not be the only South American nation to join the cause."

Algeria's dark-skinned president cleared his throat, his black skin appearing even darker when contrasted against his peoples' bright traditional colors he wore. He warily surveyed the other presidents, who formed the uneasy alliance before speaking.

"As President Ramirez has said, he expects many of the South American nations to join our cause; I also have reason to believe most of Africa will also come to our aid. The African nations that decide to abstain from war will be isolated by the rest and will be unproblematic."

President Ramirez nodded in agreement and again took the floor. "It appears that we have the rough beginnings of a crude military alliance, gentlemen," he said with a grin, masking his worry. "Before any actions are taken we must find out who is with us and who is not. Africa, South America, the Middle East; these are the conglomerates of nations which will instigate this war. Before we send a delegation to Moscow and Beijing we need the majority of continental Africa, South America, and the Middle East to be solidly behind our agenda."

"I agree with President Ramirez," Iraq's president interjected. "The more nations we have behind us, the greater our chances to convince the Russians and Chinese to also join. I however have doubts that the Chinese will want war. They are too entangled in the American and European economies to side against them in an international war. Although the Chinese consider themselves a communist nation, their international trade agreements and obligations with the West are morphing their country closer to a western nation every day, whether they realize it or not. Not that I believe the Chinese will side with the West, I just do not believe they will side against them.

The Russians on the other hand will be a much easier sell. Their constant bickering with the European Union has taken its toll on them. Many of Russia's territories have shirked their old master in favor of their more democratic and successful European neighbors."

"Plus, ever since the Cold War, Russia's been playing second fiddle to the US on the world stage. With the US and the European Union constantly slapping Russia with sanctions for this and that, I believe they will be more than happy to join us. I must reiterate that Russia's inclusion in this war is almost a necessity if we are to have a fighting chance," Algeria's president interjected.

The circular table of presidents and their most trusted advisors all nodded in agreement. Russia would be the key. Not one of the OPEC countries represented signed a broad alliance on expensive paper or took a solemn oath, but the first step toward the world's unification of its lesser nations for a common goal was achieved.

***

"Tell me we had eyes and ears in that room," President Robert Davis demanded. His intelligence officers had just informed him their intel suggested the OPEC meeting in Baghdad had been in fact a front for war. The world had become a bubbling pot of anger and resentment of international inequalities, and it was close to boiling over.

"We did, sir. The president of Algeria's closest confidant is on our payroll," the head of the CIA, Jack Marsh responded.

"Well, we better have had someone in there. The world is so close to erupting in violence, we can ill afford to not have an inside man in these types of meetings." The president paused. "So, spill it, what were they discussing? Was it how to gouge us even more on their light crude or were your sources correct that the meeting was a front?"

"Unfortunately Mr. President, our sources were correct. Oil wasn't the topic, war was."

"You can't be serious? I know those nations have been struggling financially lately, but war? Who do they think they are?"

"I don't know sir, but it was a serious conversation," Jack Marsh straightforwardly replied. There had always been chatter through the CIA's communication channels about imminent attacks or strikes in various stages of planning against the United States and its allies. But over the past few years, the chatter had increased both in volume and in detail. Unlike the past, when the secretive talk mainly originated from fanatical Muslim sects, the past few months had been different. Now, the talk was not just from fanatics, but from countries the United States had once considered unthreatening.

South America, Africa, those continents had more problems than the president could count. And now they wanted to add America, the most powerful nation in the world, onto their list? Fools, he thought.

"So, what are they planning?" The president turned his back to Jack Marsh and poured himself a neat glass of scotch. "Would you like one?" he asked over his shoulder.

"No thank you, Mr. President," Jack politely responded. He watched as the president raised the hand blown shot glass to his mouth and downed it in one large gulp. Jack licked his lips, wanting to drink the entire bottle alone in his condo, but forced himself to look away. Twenty-three years he'd been sober, and every time he was in the vicinity of the vile liquid, he remembered his last drink as if it were yesterday.

"We have the entire discussion on tape, sir. I would say this meeting was mainly for each of the countries present to feel the others out. Unfortunately by the end of their little get-together, we believe they were all in agreement on war."

"Regardless of what they decided, it just doesn't make sense. How does Africa and South America think they can defeat us? Even if it is solely the United States against those two continents, I still don't see how they could be much of a threat. Not one of their countries even has the nuclear option. Well, there's the chance that South Africa might have hidden a few of their missiles before their disarmament, but none of the others have but a handful of operational nuclear power plants, let alone missiles."

"That is true Mr. President, but they are not planning on fighting alone," Jack countered.

"Oh? And who do they plan on asking, the Chinese? Let me tell you Jack, China is not the Japan of the nineteen thirties and forties. China might claim to be communist, but their government's unquenchable thirst for economic growth, through capitalism mind you, has made their economy subject to the way the wind blows in this country and Europe. Whether or not we see eye to eye on world issues is another issue entirely, but our economies are tied together as one. There's a reason it's called a one-world economy you know. The only country that could deal us serious damage at the moment is probably Russia."

"Very true sir, and you're right; it's not the Chinese they are planning to ask. It's Russia."

The president was about to pour a second and final glass of scotch, of which he planned on nursing for at least a couple minutes, but froze at the mention of Russia.

"Well, that _is_ a different story. Our relationship with Russia couldn't be icier at the moment. Has the CIA heard anything from the Russians concerning OPEC?"

"No sir. We believe none of the OPEC countries have yet to make contact with Russia concerning this new development."

President Davis immediately understood the severity of the situation. He walked to his desk phone and pushed the intercom button. "Jerry, I want the Joint Chiefs of Staff assembled pronto."

"Yes sir," came the dutiful reply.

"Do you want me to leave?" Jack March asked, already backing toward the door.

"Nope. As soon as the team is assembled you're going to tell them word for word what you just told me."

## Chapter

## 3

"Colt. Colt!" Hillary shouted. Dominic had laid his lifeless body on the temple room's floor and was pounding on his chest with his fists in a rather crude form of CPR.

"Wake up!" Dominic yelled, as he pushed some more. After Colt had touched the mysterious artifact, what Hillary and Dominic could only describe as a massive bolt of lightning, had devoured the room. Needing to overt their vision from the bolt's blinding radiance, they had both turned away and covered their eyes from the striking pain. They heard Colt being slammed against the temple room's rock wall and then silence. The eerie yellow-white light was completely gone.

Now, shouting at their friend to wake, the only light in the dark corridor was from their two flashlights resting on the floor. Neither of them had given a moment's thought to checking what was on the altar after Colt's electrocution. The pedestal and its contents were left untouched; their friend's life was their only concern.

"Come on buddy," Dominic pleaded as he continued his crude chest compressions. Hillary gently touched Colt's forehead and fingered a few strands of his brown hair back into place.

"Push harder," she urged Dominic. She remembered from a CPR class long ago, that if ribs weren't cracking, it wasn't being done right. Dominic nodded and flattened his hands. He began pushing harder and in turn with a more rhythmic pattern.

Another minute passed. Nothing.

Sweat poured down Dominic's back and front. The cool recesses of the underground temple were doing little to abate the sheer sense of panic he felt at the possible loss of one of the best people he'd ever known. Regardless of the beginnings of cramps in his arms and the tiring of his muscles, Dominic continued to push.

Out of nowhere, Colt gasped. His lungs swiftly pulled in a breath of fresh new air, mixing it with the old. After his first inhalation, he immediately coughed as his body tried to expel the stale buildup of carbon dioxide left behind. Colt continued coughing and gasping, while Hillary and Dominic pulled him to a more upright sitting position.

Colt's fingers and toes tingled from their temporary lack of oxygen. His chest ached as though someone had been punching him repeatedly.

"Are you okay?" Hillary cried as she dove in for a hug.

"The man's heart just stopped," Dominic stated matter-of-factly as he pulled her back. "Give him some room." Hillary shot him a quick glare but knew he was right and backed away.

Colt raised his hand into the air and formed a thumbs up. "Never felt better," he hoarsely whispered. Another five minutes passed before Colt felt like standing. The tingling of sleep in his extremities eventually subsided, and his breathing was quickly returning to normal. "You guys mind giving me a hand?"

Dominic and Hillary each grabbed an arm and slowly helped him to his feet. For a few seconds the room swirled as blood flowed out of his head down to his core, leaving him temporarily light-headed. Colt took a long deep breath after standing and exhaled slowly. Except for a bit of a headache and his sore ribcage, he didn't feel all that bad for having been almost electrocuted to death.

"Did either of you check the artifact?" Colt asked.

"You were dead. What do you think we were doing?" Hillary incredulously returned. She folded her arms in annoyance and turned aside.

"Ahem, yeah, well thanks guys. I didn't mean to imply I'm ungrateful or anything; just asking." Colt reached out and placed a warm hand on each of their shoulders and loving squeezed a thank you. Hillary scowled in return, but patted his hand with hers nonetheless.

All three turned to face the darkened middle of the room. Hillary handed Colt his flashlight, turning it on. He moved the beam from the floor to his empty shoes and then to the pedestal, at the sight of which Colt grinned. He had been right, it was a pedestal.

He moved the flashlight slowly up the tiny stone tower. At the flattened top of the small rocky podium sat four legs belonging to a metal stand. Finally, resting atop of the stand was an object, the likes of which Colt and the others had never seen before. The unfamiliar relic at first glance appeared to be made of a dull metal and was now completely devoid of its previous light.

"You ever see anything like this before Colt?" Dominic asked by his side.

Colt shook his head no. He took another step closer to the foreign object and then another. The best way he could describe the odd piece was thinking that two individually carved lightning bolts had been attached with a horizontal handle in the middle. The metal didn't appear to be sharp, nor did the blades' craftsmanship seem to be overly extraordinary, but the length of the entire object was close to six feet long.

Colt reached out to touch the strange blade for the second time.

"Whoa, you sure that's such a good idea there Colt? Isn't that what you did the last time when it blew you clear across the room?" Dominic worriedly asked.

"Yeah, but this time it's not glowing," Colt replied, a little uncertain himself.

"Please, at least be careful. Why not touch it with something besides your hand this time?" Hillary suggested.

"That's probably not a bad idea," he admitted. Colt looked around the room with his flashlight for something nonliving he could touch the device with. Unlike most other temple rooms, untouched for hundreds of years, this particular chamber was utterly empty except for the pedestal and its treasure in the center of the room.

Not finding a stick or any other long object, Colt took off his baseball cap and crept towards the idol-like stand. Gingerly, he reached out and dabbed the back of his hat against the metal object. Nothing. He then swiped his hat against it harder than before. Still nothing.

"Whatever that light was, I don't think it's here anymore," Colt said.

"Just because that doohickey isn't glowing like the sun, doesn't mean it's not dangerous," Dominic advised.

Colt heard Dom's statement of caution but had already made his decision. He returned the baseball cap atop his head and took a final step forward, bringing the odd sword-like piece within reach.

With extreme trepidation, Colt inched his extended pointer finger toward the weapon. An inch from the object he stopped. He looked side to side at his companions as Hillary and Dominic had flanked alongside him showing support.

Colt moved his finger closer. Half an inch. A quarter of an inch. With a touch as quick as a viper strike, Colt touched the artifact and withdrew his finger expecting a shock. The situation instantly reminded him of the phrase about insanity his father had taught him years ago. According to his dad, the definition of insanity was trying something again and again under the exact same circumstances and expecting a different result. Well, this time the object wasn't glowing, and that _was_ different.

The instant Colt's finger touched the device it pulsed with a beat of energy at the point of contact. The bright golden-white light at first only pulsed from where his finger had touched the object but then spread throughout the weapon like ripples on a pond. However unlike before, the light in the object was gone in an instant; almost as fast as Colt had withdrawn his finger.

Unlike before, this time there had been no pain. Colt had felt strange warmth radiate up his arm at making contact, but that was all. Encouraged by the result and without discussion, he reached out again. Instead of touching the blade, Colt extended the entirety of his hand around the central shaft connecting the two lightning bolt-like blades.

His hand curled around the shaft, but he was careful not to touch it. Colt took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and squeezed. The warmth he had felt before shot up his arm and this time radiated throughout his entire body. There was no pain, only warmth and power. The odd artifact glowed as before, but this time the light did not recede.

Colt opened his eyes and lifted the artifact off its metal stand atop the stone chiseled podium. The intensity of the golden-white light grew in his grasp until it flashed so bright all three of them were blinded for a few seconds. As Hillary and Dominic's sight slowly returned, their jaws dropped to the floor. Standing in the middle of the temple was Colt holding the strange device, now perpendicular to the floor. Their eyes widened even more as they realized both Colt and the artifact were now pulsing with the strange light.

Colt methodically moved the artifact around in the air, carefully studying it inch by inch. "What do you guys make of this?" he questioned in a booming almost god-like voice.

Hillary and Dominic covered their ears in pain as the unexpected force from Colt's voice caused the room to tremble. Pieces of unsecured rock fell from the ceiling, and dust sprayed from cracks in the wall. Colt gasped at the enhanced sound of his voice and covered his mouth with his free hand.

Eventually a peaceful silence again overtook the area. Colt spoke again, but as softly and slowly as he could without degrading to a whisper. "Are you two okay?" Even though barely using enough breath to be audible, his voice escaped his throat loud and strong.

"What is that thing?" Dominic begged, while still digging with a finger in one of his ears, trying to regain his hearing.

"I, I'm not sure," Colt uncharacteristically stuttered.

"I think you should put it down Colt. Nothing that's happened so far makes me think it's safe to be holding that _thing_ ," Hillary added. "I mean, you're glowing for God's sake. That can't be healthy."

Colt looked down at his torso and legs. If Hillary hadn't mentioned the light pulsating from his body, he'd have never known it was him glowing. He had thought the light was only coming from the strange artifact and bouncing off his clothes. As Colt continued holding the artifact, he realized the light radiating from his body was slowly beginning to fade. Eventually his body went dark, while only the object in his hand continued to pulse the strange golden-white light.

Curious he softly said, "Is my voice better now?" He used the same amount of breath as before, but this time his words were barely audible.

"What'd you say? Man, are you feeling okay?" Dominic asked looking him up and down.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Colt replied with his normal voice. "I tell you guys, I can't really describe what I felt when I picked this up. Warmth seemed to flow from it into me. It's as if this _lightning staff_ holds some kind of power and fed it into my body."

Ordinarily Hillary would have called Colt crazy and punched him in the arm, but as ridiculous as what he had said sounded, she whole-heartedly believed him.

"Let me give that thing a try," Dominic pleaded.

"It's not a toy Dom," Colt replied.

"I know, I know. Come on. I just want to hold it for a sec. Please," he cried.

"Alright," Colt relented. "But just hold it, don't try anything stupid."

Dominic's face lit up in expectation, as he tentatively reached for an open portion of the handle centered in between the two blades just above Colt's closed grip. As Dominic inched his hand closer to the object, the glowing pulses it was emitting increased in both brightness and succession.

"Wait," Colt cautioned, but it was too late. As the word escaped his lips, Dominic made contact with the blades' handle. Much like Colt before, electricity flowed from the device into Dominic's unguarded body. Against his will, the volume of electricity caused his muscles to grip the device even tighter. He screamed in agony, while trying to prying open his closed hand, wrapped like a vice around the staff, with his free one. Eventually he was able to reduce the strength of his ironclad grip just enough for the force of the powerful shock to shoot him backward and onto the floor. Dominic, still conscious, groaned on impact, and rolled to his side. Colt wasn't sure why, maybe due to Dominic's larger frame or higher percentage of body fat, but fortunately for him, his heart was not knocked out of rhythm like Colt's had been before.

"Dominic are you okay?" Hillary yelled as she scurried towards him on the floor. Colt tossed the staff to the ground, which immediately lost its pulsing glow, and ran to his friend. The room smelled of putrid burnt hair and flesh, as the staff had singed Dominic's hand from his fingers to a little past his wrist. Any hairs that might have resided in that area were now slender pieces of ash.

"Yeow, that hurts," he cried. Already, red and white blisters were beginning to form across the singed area. Hillary quickly retrieved a bottle of slimy green aloe from her backpack. She generously dumped the bottle on the affected skin and began gently rubbing it in.

Dominic let out a refreshing, "Oh yeah," as the aloe's cool feeling fought against the burning pain.

"Guess that wasn't such a good idea, huh boss," Dominic said to Colt, while refusing to remove his gaze from Hillary's hands, as they gently wrapped his wounded hand in gauze.

"Guess not," Colt replied.

"I told you that _thing_ was dangerous," Hillary added disapprovingly.

"You know, I don't think so, Hill. I can't be sure, but I have the feeling it was just protecting me. Dom, when you went to take it from me, I felt a surge of power just before you touched it. Truthfully, I think it was some sort of protection mechanism."

"Well, whatever it was, it hurt like hell," Dominic finished.

Hillary and Colt slowly helped Dominic to his feet. Like before, they again turned their attention to the double sword-like device, this time lying on the temple's floor.

"Hey, you guys, I just had a thought," Dominic blurted out. He shook off their steadying holds and walked up to the dormant object. He stood there staring at the dulled staff for a few seconds before in one fluid motion swooping down and scooping it up in his other unburned hand.

"Are you stupid?" Hillary yelled.

"Stop!" Colt yelled but it was too late. Dominic was already straightening his back with the dead staff in his hand. They looked at him in amazement. Both for his reckless act and that he was now holding the staff without being shocked to death.

"Seriously? I know something that you guys don't?" he bragged.

"Alright, alright, what do you know that we don't?" Colt said taking the bait.

"Remember the saying on the door? It said there can only be _one_ Zeus. You said yourself that you felt like the staff was protecting you." Dominic tossed the double-edged staff to Colt. The second he touched it, the staff again began to pulsate with the mysterious light.

Dominic continued, "Don't you get it Colt? You're Zeus!"

Silence passed as Colt and Hillary absorbed Dominic's words. Dominic stood across from them, waiting for each of them to _get it_ with a smug look of satisfaction painted on his face. He didn't believe that Zeus ever existed, none of them did. But whether Zeus existed or not wasn't the question. The real question was where did the staff come from and if Colt was its new master, what powers did he now possess?

"You know, if you're right and this thing makes me Zeus or at least gives me Zeus-like powers, then I should have the power of lightning," Colt thought aloud.

"Now you're thinking like the Greek god of legend," Dominic applauded.

"That's great, but first things first," Colt directed. "We're not going to try this thing underground, so let's see if there's anything else important in here before we head back to the surface," he ordered, as was his role as the leader of their small band. Normally there wouldn't have been a doubt in Colt's mind that an artifact such as the staff was just that, nothing more than a staff. But after the shock and the power he'd received and seen given to Dominic, this time he knew this particular relic was much more.

## Chapter

## 4

Deep in the Kremlin's dimly lit bowels, Russia's president Boris Aleksandrov paced along an outer wall of what used to be a well-known soviet KGB office. He longed for the era where Russia was a world power not to be taken lightly. Years of neglect to the nation's infrastructure and the constant fracturing of its outer provinces had decimated the nation's once powerful world clout. Now his country barely had the resources to maintain the skeletal framework of what once comprised the world power.

Boris stopped at a painting of Mikhail Gorbachev, catching sight of his unmistakable birthmark on the top of his head. Twelve Soviet bloc countries had declared their freedom and sovereignty, when Gorbachev had announced the dissolution of the U.S.S.R. in the winter of 1991, and then relinquishing his presidency to Boris Yeltsin. By allowing the Russian superpower to crumble, Gorbachev had effectively ended the cold war, but Boris wondered at what cost?

Many of the twelve soviet republics to this day were still distancing themselves further and further from Moscow's worn out communist style of capitalism in favor of the much more vibrant European Union, leaving Russia even more isolated.

Boris had heard the rumblings of the neighboring Middle East and the northern African nations. It was not uncommon for the lesser nations to rattle their sabers, demanding better treatment from the West, but the rhetoric as of late was increasing. Various countries like Iran and North Korea tried provoking the world's anger, hoping it would payout in the end, although it never did. But more often, the have-nots of the world would complain to anyone who would listen but rarely ever took their feelings of discontent further than that.

Boris Aleksandrov continued past Gorbachev's painting and on to Boris Yeltsin's. Unable to undo the damage his predecessor had done, Yeltsin tried to move his beloved Mother Russia and its republics into a free market economy. Years of failed policies, economic collapse, and widespread corruption in the end had practically doomed his presidency. What a shame, Boris thought, Yeltsin had showed such promise.

Boris continued past Yeltsin's portrait and those of the presidents after him. Eventually, at the end of the long line of presidential paintings, he stopped at his own.

"Will I follow their fate?" he said aloud to the empty corridor. "Will I continue leading this once great nation on its current course to international obscurity or can I transform us into something better?"

The painting did not answer, nor did any of the others offer their ghostly advice. Boris remembered back to his early days of schooling. He remembered the events of World War II; how before the war America was simply another country on the other side of the world. After the war, however, America had evolved to become the world's first superpower. Their economy, style of democracy, ideals, and political influence were the envy of every country. That was what he wanted his gift to be for Mother Russia. The question was how.

Even now, the decline was not stopping. For decades Russia had been able to use its vast sources of natural gas as a bargaining chip against the European conglomerate. But even that small economic influence was beginning to wane as Europe was embracing the American born technology of fracking, where oil caught in between layers of shale and sediment could be loosened by forcing water and chemicals deep into the earth.

Many of Europe's countries also sat atop vast amounts of oil and natural gas, which would only too soon be readily available. All too often Russia had used the threat of cutting the gas supply to coerce Europe back to the bargaining table. But alas, not only was his country's political clout on the decline, the loss of capital from its waning sales of natural gas to the Europeans would wreak even further havoc on Russia's weakened economy.

"What must I do?" he again mumbled to himself. Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement to his left.

"Who's there?" he demanded. Out of the shadows stepped an older man, exactly thirty years older as a matter of fact. Boris recognized the man instantly as Anatoly Lipov, his most trusted advisor and mentor.

"Have these old walls made you crazy enough to talk to yourself?" his mentor questioned, somewhat disapprovingly.

Noticing the old man's disapproval Boris gruffly replied, "I didn't know I was being watched, Anatoly."

"You are the President of Russia. You are always being watched; these walls have eyes and ears you know," his mentor cautiously advised.

Although harsh and unfriendly, Boris knew his mentor's words were not so much of a rebuke but meant for advice given the Russian way. His mentor, now sixty-six, appeared much older from years of hard liquor and cigarettes than he actually was. Born into a hard life of poor parents, Anatoly had worked his way through his schooling and eventually into the upper echelon of the communist party. He and Anatoly had met years ago, with Anatoly taking an immediate shine to the youngster. They had formed an instant connection, and while Boris was initially undecided on his future, Anatoly knew he was a born leader.

"What should I do?" he asked his mentor. "Our enemies are all around us."

"First, I'd stop talking to your dead predecessors," he smiled, "and then I would think of one thing you wanted to change. Focus on nothing but that. Don't let anyone get in your way." Anatoly paused. "Don't be too hard on these men that came before you. At the time, each of them was only doing what _they_ felt was right for Russia. History has proven many of our leaders' actions were wrong, but that is the benefit of hindsight. So, Boris Aleksandrov what do you want to change?"

"Everything," he replied without having to think. Boris gazed straight into the eyes of his own portrait. Anatoly did not remark on Boris' reply, he didn't need to. Out of the corner of Boris' eye, he noticed a subtle upwards curling on his mentor's mouth and a slight nodding of his head in complete agreement. Everything needed to change.

## Chapter

## 5

Colt walked by the labyrinthine room's finely chiseled walls, carefully scouring their surfaces for any additional information or insight about the magical staff. While Hillary and Dominic used their narrow-beamed flashlights to hunt for clues, Colt was able to cover twice the space in half the time with the Lightning Staff's pulsing aura.

Having started in the middle, Colt went to his right, while Hillary and Dominic traveled to their left. Dominic couldn't read or write ancient Greek, but he felt he could spot the funny looking symbols as easily as anyone else.

Eventually the three met in the middle of the opposite wall across the room from where they had started.

"Nothing?" Colt asked.

"Not so much as a chicken scratch," Hillary confirmed.

Although the underground temple's walls weren't as flat as freshly hung sheetrock, they were smooth enough that Colt and the others seriously doubted there was anything openly visible they had missed.

"This doesn't make any sense," Colt said, thinking aloud. "I've never heard of any room anywhere that housed a treasure like this and not contain at least one additional artifact or at the very least a hint of why it was so important. It's odd though, I have this sneaking suspicion that we're missing something."

"Colt, this whole situation is odd," Dominic replied. Both he and his best friend being zapped by a thousands of years old trinket, how could the situation be any odder?

Colt didn't acknowledge his longtime friend. He was too busy pacing the room, searching for what was hidden that he knew had been missed. Hillary and Dominic began shinning their lights around the temple walls and ceiling for a second time, also resuming their hunt for clues.

"Maybe we're looking in the wrong place," Hillary suggested. She waved the beam of her flashlight from the walls to the pedestal centered in the room. As each of them moved closer in unison to the altar, Dominic absent-mindedly stumbled closer to Colt and the Lightning Staff. Immediately the staff started pulsing faster and stronger as it had before, ready to protect its master. Like a dog remembering his shock collar's jolt, as soon as Dominic noticed the increasing light, he jumped to the opposite side of room, bumping into Hillary and knocking the flashlight out of her hand.

The metal cased light bounced on the rocky floor and rolled to a stop directly in front of the pedestal. Hillary was about to give Dominic a piece of her mind for knocking into her, before noticing ancient Greek writing on the base of the small column.

"Do you guys see this?" she asked and knelt down for a closer look. Colt hunched over, bringing the staff along for added light.

"Careful Dom, I'm going to move the staff closer to you. Just be mindful you don't touch it," Colt advised as he set the staff directly in front of the pedestal.

"No worries, boss. I'm not taking my eyes off that blasted thing." Although Dominic assumed the feeling was only in his head, he swore his burnt hand's throbbing increased the closer Colt moved the staff.

"What does it say, Hill?' Colt asked, unable to lean completely down while holding their needed source of light. Hillary pulled a small paintbrush from her backpack and briskly swept away the millennia of dust resting in the bottom cavities of the letters. She read:

THIS IS ZEUS' FINAL RESTING PLACE. USE HIS POWERS WISELY

BROTHER POSEIDEN RESTS IN ATLANTIS  
BROTHER HADES SLUMBERS AT THE MOUTH OF VESUVIUS

WIFE AND SISTER HERA RESTS IN THE GREAT CHASM

SISTER DEMETER DOZES IN MOTHER EARTH

SISTER HESTIA LIES IN WAIT IN THE SUN'S EVERLASTING FLAME

"You've got to be kidding me. There are more of these things?" Dominic exclaimed. He assumed, as did Hillary and Colt, the ancient script was not referring to the Greek gods themselves, but to additional artifacts similar to the Lightning Staff that might mimic their god-like abilities.

"It would appear so," Colt confirmed. "Hill, take a snapshot of the podium if you wouldn't mind."

A flash of light and thirty minutes later the three spelunkers emerged back above ground. The temple's cool damp temperatures were quickly replaced by the hot mugginess of the Amazon.

"Are you going to try it now?" Dominic eagerly asked, with barely one foot out of the hole leading back into the underground stone cavern.

"I guess now's as good of a time as any. I'm not sure if the words on the pedestal were meant as a warning or advice though." Colt gave the Lightning Staff a quick glance. He wasn't sure if the staff's glowing had increased above ground, but even in the midday's sun, its pulsing light appeared just as bright as it had underground.

Colt held the staff in front of his body. He found a dying tree maybe ten yards in the distance and focused. He pointed the staff at the scraggly plant and thought of lightning striking it. Almost instantly, the staff's glow increased to a bright pure white light, and a small dark blue-grey cloud formed in the otherwise clear blue sky. A gigantic white lightning bolt, unnatural in size relative to the small cloud, shot out and struck the small tree with tremendous force.

Not realizing the scope of the staff's true power, the lightning bolt's massive blast blew Colt and the others backward to the ground. As the smoke cleared in the afternoon wind, Colt searched from his back, for the small tree. To his surprise, only a perfectly round, charred hole in the ground remained. It was as if the tree had never even existed.

"Wow. That. Was. Awesome!" Dominic exclaimed, pausing in between each word, still shocked from the lightning strike's immeasurable force.

"What on earth have we found?" Hillary added, barely able to form a sentence.

"This, this artifact isn't a simple trinket or sword or some kind of oversized glowing flashlight. This is a weapon of pure energy and destruction," Colt said holding the pulsating Lightning Staff in front of him.

"So, what do we do now? Blow more stuff up?" Dominic excitedly asked.

"No. I think we need to get this back to my office in England as soon as possible. We need to burn the midnight oil for a few nights and figure out what this artifact exactly is. Plus, I'd be afraid to think of what would happen should this staff fall into the wrong hands," Colt worried aloud. "It's best we get this relic some place safe."

"But you're the only one that can use it right? I mean it was dead in my hands, and the inscription said there could be only _one_ Zeus," Dominic countered.

"Yeah, right now, but what if something happens to him?" Hillary shot back. "I have a hunch that if Colt dies then the next person to touch the staff will get its powers."

"If they survive touching it," Colt added remembering the massive electrical surge throughout his body. "Let's get the truck loaded and get out of here. I don't have any reason to doubt our safety, but the sooner we get back home the better."

Within twenty minutes, their truck was loaded. Colt took the Lightning Staff and wrapped it tightly in a dark green blanket. He buried the blanket and its contents under a litany of digging tools and camping supplies, hoping to keep it well hidden.

Hours later, they arrived in the small town of El Tingo, Peru. Although cell service was limited and sporadic at moments, Colt was eventually able to make contact with the head of the British museum in England.

"George?" he asked as a male voice answered just as the phone's connection hiccupped. He had known George Stonewall for years. England's numerous museums had purchased many of Colt's most valuable finds, all under the guidance of his friend; although his home country of America also received numerous priceless artifacts.

"Hello? Hello?" he heard George reply as the signal strengthened for the moment.

"George, it's me, Colt."

"Hey there old chap, how's the Amazon treating you?"

"Forget the small talk. We found something amazing over here, and we need a direct flight out." Colt despised the idea of robbing temples of their treasures, especially from a foreign country. But the Lightning Staff wasn't just a normal artifact; it was a highly explosive weapon. A weapon Colt would not willingly let fall into the wrong hands.

Regardless of Colt's feelings of contempt at the idea of stealing, for many of his colleagues in his trade theft was almost second nature. The stolen artifacts, if successfully smuggled, were highly sought after on the black market. The treasures' sales could end up funding their finders' massive research budgets or selfish personal desires for years to come. Unfortunately, George Stonewall believed in the latter.

Colt and George constantly debated the fuzzy line between archeological research and theft. Still, despite their differing attitudes, George Stonewall had become one of Colt's most ardent supporters and most trusted friends nonetheless.

Without asking so much as a _why_ , his friend replied, "Where are you and where to do you want to go?"

"Right now we're in El Tingo, but we can drive to an airport if need be."

"Don't be ridiculous. I know you would have never asked for a favor of this sort unless what you discovered wasn't truly important. Sit tight and I'll have someone sent to you," George finished and hung up the phone.

"So, are we getting out of here tonight?" Hillary asked.

"Can't say. George just told us to sit tight," Colt replied.

Ten hours later, after spending the night in a crude inn that only saw a few travelers a month, Colt, Hillary, Dominic, and the Lightning Staff were stowed aboard a British jet black military helicopter and heading for the closest airport. At the airport was waiting a fully fueled Royal Air Force cargo plane ready to ferry them and their treasure back to England. Another fifteen hours and a few stops for refueling later, Colt and the others stepped off the large military transport and onto British soil.

During the trip, Colt had spoken with select members of the British military and secret services pertaining to the artifact he now held. Immediately after he'd done so however, he regretted his decision not keeping at least a couple of his cards closer to his chest. Namely, Colt regretted sending Hillary's picture of the pedestal, which listed the cryptic locations of up to five additional artifacts. But what was done was done, as his father used to say. For now, he'd have to cross his fingers and hope for the best.

Upon their arrival, not only the head of MI-6, but also the Admiral of the Fleet, the Marshal of the Royal Air Force, and the newly appointed Chief of the Defense Staff greeted Colt, Hillary, and Dominic to a hero's welcome of sorts. His friend George Stonewall was there too, beaming in the background. A slew of armored black cars, with tinted windows waited in the background, which had surrounded their plane soon after landing. While shaking the high-ranking officials' hands, Colt scanned the perimeter for other security forces.

"Has there been a threat against the throne or something?" Dominic joked, observing the unnecessary military precautions.

"We're not taking any chances," the Chief curtly replied, not finding his joke funny. "If this staff you three found can do half of what we've been told then I would have suggested the entire area be locked down."

Dominic shrank back from the harsh rebuke, and Hillary inched closer to Colt, uneasy around the military personnel. They were then marched to a black unmarked SUV and told to get inside. Colt held Hillary's palm in one hand, while his other hand wrapped tightly around Lightning Staff. Even though not an inch of the staff touched his skin through the heavy blanket, it continued to glow in Colt's presence. In the afternoon sun, the blanket had muted the staff's glow to where it was almost unnoticeable, but now inside the heavily tinted government vehicle, the glowing was again unmistakable.

After twenty minutes, the motorcade comprised of black cars and SUVs had left London behind and were driving through the hilly countryside to a more secluded base outside of town.

"Alright, show us what it can do," the Chief ordered once they were out of the car at the more secure location. To their rear was a large unused army barrack. To their front and sides were large swaths of concrete interlaced with weeds growing through the cracks. In many places, where evidence of concrete still remained, patches of grass and dandelions were trying hard to take over. Over two football fields in the distance sat a rusty tank Colt guessed was leftover from the Second World War

Even from so far away, Colt could tell the tank had been used for extensive target practice in the past. Round circles of paint were gone, replaced with rust colored divots, where past bullets had undoubtedly hit.

"What can you do to that tank?" the Chief asked. Colt looked at him and smiled. Carefully he unraveled the green cloak from around the Lightning Staff. He heard gasps from the military leaders standing behind him as he exposed the pale-yellow glowing metal.

As before, he held the staff in front of his body. Unlike before however, the target this time was thankfully far off in the distance. Far enough he hoped any shrapnel that escaped the immediate blast radius would hit the ground long before making it to their position.

Not uncommon for England, the earlier sunny day had quickly become overcast since their arrival at the military airport. Nonetheless, as Colt raised the staff and imagined a gigantic bolt of lightning striking the aging tank, a smaller almost black dark cloud formed below the grayish sky. A fiery bolt of pure electricity shot down from the miniature cloud in the sky, vaporizing the rusty hunk of metal exactly as it had the scraggly tree.

Everyone except Colt covered their eyes against the blinding brilliance of the lightning strike. By the time they opened their eyelids and lowered their hands only a ball of orange-red molten metal remained where the obsolete tank had previously sat.

"Bloody hell," one of the military officials whistled at the awesome display of power.

"That staff will be a welcome addition to her majesty's arsenal," the Chief added. "Hank, why don't you take the staff from Sir Colt. I don't believe he'll be needing it anymore."

"That's not a good idea," Colt advised; the staff's pulsing light brightened in intensity as Hank approached.

"And why is that?" the Chief asked not used to having his orders questioned, especially by someone with zero understanding of military matters.

"For some reason the staff only responds to my touch. If anyone tries to take it from me they get a wicked shock," Colt replied.

"You better trust him on that one," Dominic added and held up his bandaged hand. "Unfortunately I learned that lesson the hard way, when I tried to take it from him in Peru."

"Well, just set it on the ground, and my man will retrieve it then," the Chief responded growing annoyed.

"That won't work either," Hillary chimed in.

"And why is that?" the Chief asked with a huff.

"There was a transcription on one of the room's walls that stated that there could be only one Zeus. We believe that means that until Colt dies, only he can operate the staff," Hillary added.

"And what if he dies?"

"I can't say for sure, but my opinion is the next person to pick up the staff would then be in control," Colt answered.

"Hmm. Very interesting," the Chief replied. The way the Chief said _interesting_ sent chills down Colt's spine. The Chief then ordered Colt, Hillary, and Dominic to stay put, while he conferred with his top advisors. In a couple of minutes, he returned and ordered them back into the vehicle they had arrived in moments ago.

"I'd watch my back if I were you," Dominic quietly whispered in his friend's ear.

"I'm sending the three of you to a secure facility for the night, while we figure out what to do about this staff of yours." The Chief shut the rear door and slapped the car's top, signaling the driver to go. Colt, Hillary, and Dominic exchanged worried glances, wanting to discuss what had just transpired, but were afraid to speak in front of their military escorts. They sat in eerie silence as the SUV whisked them away to an undisclosed location.

## Chapter

## 6

"What was a British military helicopter doing in my airspace?" Peru's President Emilio Basar demanded. An hour earlier, he'd received the unexpected report detailing the uninvited incursion into his country's sovereign airspace.

"Our reports indicate they picked up three archeologists from El Tingo," the Minister of Defense meekly responded. The Minister of Defense cursed the reports that had reached President Basar before his military wing was able to confirm or deny the intrusion. It was his department's job to provide the exact details of the British helicopter's quick arrival and departure, not the local airports, which were now over asserting their authority.

"Well, what were they doing in El Tingo and why did they need a secret military escort out of my country?" the President shouted. He slammed his hand on his desk, rattling pens and trinkets in anger. President Basar stared down his military commander, making one of the most powerful people in Peru feel like a small disobedient child.

"The locals say the archeologists had been to the Chachapoya citadel, where those American tourists found some sort of new underground passageway a few weeks ago. They didn't use credit cards in El Tingo, but from the town's residents it sounds like it was Sir Colt Andrews and his crew."

"Oh yes, I remember signing a request from the Ministry of Foreign Commerce and Tourism allowing his team to enter the country. But, the only reason they'd have needed a military escort out is if they stole something belonging to Peru," President Basar surmised. Emilio Basar loved his country of Peru more than life itself. If this Colt Andrews did indeed steal an artifact from the ancient site, Emilio would waste no resources to bring the artifact back to Peruvian soil.

"I agree, sir; that was our assessment as well," the Minister of Defense responded, trying to gain the irritated President's favor. President Basar rolled his eyes at the blatant plea for forgiveness. He felt the country's Minister of Defense should be at least three steps ahead of him with regards to matters of this nature; not two steps behind.

"Have _any_ of our archeologists been to the sight?"

"No. After you signed the agreement letting Colt Andrews's people have first crack at the dig, as a manner of respect for his expertise, none of our researchers wanted to step on his toes. But we have a team there as we speak searching the ruins for clues," the Minister of Defense proudly responded. His military might have dropped the ball earlier in the game, but now the situation was being dealt with the utmost seriousness and haste.

At that moment the president's secretary barged through his office's closed doors unannounced. "Mr. President there's an urgent call for the Minister of Defense. They've found something," he said breathlessly. President Basar commanded his trusted secretary, one of the only people allowed to enter his office without knocking, to put the phone on speaker.

"This is President Basar and the Minister of Defense, what have you found?"

"Sirs, this is General Bellido. I'm standing not two feet from the newly discovered opening, where I believe the British archeologists were digging. Our team of Peruvian archeologists has found Greek writing on the walls, labeling the underground rooms as the final resting place of Zeus."

"You mean the Greek god?" the Minister of Defense chimed in. "What in the world would anything relating to Greek mythology be doing buried in the middle of the Andes mountains?" he asked in disbelief.

"That's exactly what I asked our team. But they said the Incas that used to live here also believed in a god of lightning themselves. I'm guessing you've both heard stories of Illapa, the Incan god of lightning? Just from what we've discovered today our experts here think there has to be a connection of some sort between the two extinct deities."

"Okay, so they've found an old temple that has writing about Zeus. That still doesn't explain why they fled the country."

"Yes, President Basar, _that_ doesn't, but after interviewing some of the locals from El Tingo, a few of them that saw the Brits reported seeing Colt Andrews carrying something long-like sort of staff, wrapped under a blanket. And get this, it was glowing."

"Hmm, that _is_ interesting," the President responded.

"And, in the furthest room of the temple there is a pedestal that has had whatever it was holding removed," the General added. "Oh, and there's something else too. Inscribed on the bottom of the pedestal are vague locations purportedly of Zeus' five brothers and sisters. If I had to guess, I'd bet each of their resting places also has a similar treasure," General Bellido finished.

After a moment of quiet insight, President Basar responded. "Here's what I want you to do, General. I want where you are sealed as tight as a bottle of Coke. No one but our team of archeologists gets in or out, and I mean no one. Secondly, I want those other sites found. I don't care who you have to work with or what it costs, but I want the other treasures found and brought back to Peru. And lastly I want to know what Colt Andrews stole from that temple and why it was glowing."

The President hung up the phone and turned to his Minister of Defense. "For some reason I have a feeling there's more to the Incan god of lightning than we thought. What if this Andrews character discovered something that could create lightning itself? That would at least explain why whatever he had was glowing. Wouldn't that necessitate a military extraction for him back to England?"

President Basar knew what he had just said sounded completely ridiculous, but for the moment, it was the most logical reason he could come up with. Hopefully soon his semi-inept military would either prove him right or wrong.

***

Tony Wilson, England's Prime Minister paced back and forth in a large open office. He had traveled to MI-6's headquarters at Vauxhall Cross, after being showed footage of Colt Andrews's demonstration of the Lightning Staff's destructive powers.

"For lack of a better word, the video of that Lightning Staff in action was _awesome_!" the Prime Minister said.

"Yes sir, it was pretty spectacular. We only tried the staff that one time though. Based on that result, I'm not sure if there's a limit to what it can destroy. If you want my opinion, we need to get that device out of his hands and into British possession," the Minister of Defense replied.

"Yes, I've been wrangling with that very idea. The problem is twofold. Sir Colt Andrews was just knighted by the Queen, so he's highly revered by Her Majesty, but at the same time, he's an American citizen. If push comes to shove can we really count on him giving us the staff and not his native country?"

"Sir, we've taken him and the two others with him to a secure location. I have a team that that's ready to take the device by force if necessary."

"Are you sure that's needed? I don't want to have to explain to the Queen why we attacked one of the nation's most revered researchers," the Prime Minister responded.

"I'm sorry, but Sir Colt Andrews's standing in British society really shouldn't be a factor. We've both seen the destructive power of that staff. And right now it's in the hands of a non-militarily trained American scientist on British soil. We would be derelict in our duty as British soldiers if we didn't take it by any means necessary," the Minister of Defense replied heatedly.

"He's right. Something like this could go for millions on the black market. If this Colt character for some reason decides he wants to cash in, once the staff leaves the country it would become virtually untraceable," the head of MI-6 stated from her cushy black office chair.

"Have any of you just asked him for the bloody staff?" Tony Wilson asked.

"We have and he is reluctant to hand it over. Plus, if anyone tries to take it by force they get electrocuted, and for some reason it only works in his hands. Not that I'm suggesting this, but it appears that as long as he's alive, the staff only responds to his touch. If he was to die however..." the Minister of Defense said trailing off.

"If he was to die, we'd have to find someone trustworthy who could control the staff's powers for us. That's what you're saying, right?" Tony Wilson asked.

"Yes sir," the Minister of Defense confirmed. "But as of now, I'm not suggesting we kill him. I just think we should have the device in our hands. However, accidents in a military exercise of this type have been known to happen," he added.

"There's still another issue that we haven't discussed," the head of MI-6 interjected.

"And that is?" Tony Wilson replied.

"Once we received the call from our head of museums Mr. George Stonewall, asking for a military rescue of Colt's team, we've been tracking all of their communications ever since. One of Sir Andrews's messages included a photo from where the staff was found. Based on our translation of the old style Greek script, there are possibly five more of these types of devices hidden around the world," the MI-6 director added.

"Tell me you know where the other five are hidden," Tony Wilson charged.

"Unfortunately, no. Each of Zeus' five mythological brothers' and sisters' names are only listed alongside a crude location of where their _burial_ temple might be. Based on the existence of Colt's Lightning Staff, I believe we need to pool all of our resources in finding the other five locations," she finished.

"What a day," the Prime Minister said rubbing his tense forehead. "Mythological gods leaving behind real treasures and now we're discussing stealing one of them from Sir Andrews, or even worse, maybe having to kill one of our national heroes, all for the sake of national security."

The Minister of Defense and the head of MI-6 exchanged looks while the Prime Minister paced the room thinking. Eventually he stopped with a decision in mind. "I want that staff taken no matter the cost. We can't risk it being sold, taken to America, or worse. Do it tonight, while they're asleep, and be careful. I don't want Colt or any of his team harmed if possible. Are we all on the same page?"

The Minister of Defense and the head of MI-6 nodded in agreement and began planning the midnight incursion to gain ownership of the Lightning Staff.

## Chapter

## 7

"This doesn't feel right, Colt," Dominic flatly stated.

"What part? The part where we've been shoved in this empty room with guards outside the door or the part where we're in possession of what the Brits think could be another weapon in their arsenal? You know they weren't very pleased when I basically told them they weren't getting their hands on it," Colt returned.

"I wish there was a better way to spin the situation we're in, but I don't think this ends well for us," Hillary added. She looked over at the fully unsheathed Lightning Staff, which was leaning against the bed Colt was sitting on. From the moment the guards had gruffly escorted them into the large bunkroom filled with over twenty empty beds, Colt had not let the staff rest more than ten inches away from his reach.

Hillary sighed at their mundane accommodations as she took in the room's complete lack of color. In only a slight deviance from the bland white concrete walls and asbestos tilled floor, there was a green door at the far end of the bunkroom. The door led into a community bathroom equipped with multiple toilets, showers, and sinks, all in various shades of white and grey.

Luckily for them, the long bunkroom had multiple windows on both sides of the stretched rectangular walls, which allowed some of the sun's final rays to filter in providing at least a dash of color. At some time in the past, each window had been retrofitted with crisscrossing iron bars to protect the troops housed inside. However, what had been purposed for protection was now used for their isolation.

"I'm not sure we're going to be able to get this figured out tonight, so maybe we should get some sleep and work out a plan tomorrow morning," Colt said with a yawn. The last couple of days had been tiring and was wearing each of them down. From their find in the Amazon to the thirty plus hour transcontinental flights back and forth from Peru to England, sleep had been hard to come by.

"Just remember we're Americans, and we have something they want," Dominic advised. "I don't know about the two of you, but I'm sleeping in my clothes tonight."

Colt and Hillary exchanged looks, collectively agreeing Dominic's advice was sound. Once they were ready for bed, Colt strode across the long hard floor and flipped off the bunkroom's light switch. He used the Lightning Staff's golden glow for a nightlight on his way back.

However great the uncertainty of their present circumstances was, it wasn't enough to keep their weary eyes open for long. Roughly thirty minutes after they turned off the lights, Hillary, Dominic, and Colt were each deeply slumbering. Hours passed while they slept, unaware of the beginnings of a military assault being readied outside their building.

A light drizzle was beginning to rain over the elite British tactical units as they surrounded the building. Each soldier was tasked with obtaining the Lightning Staff, while preserving the lives of the three Americans if possible. At the same time, however, their objective had been made perfectly clear; the recovery of the Lightning Staff was the goal of the mission. The American lives, though valuable, were secondary.

Hillary stirred as an accidental horn sounded somewhere outside of their bunk filled room. Her eyes fluttered open and shut, while she fought against her bladder wanting to be emptied. Eventually her overly full bladder won and forced her to wake. She yawned deeply and placed her bare feet on the cold tiled floor. Still fully dressed as Dominic had suggested, she failed to notice the coolness of the open air bunkroom on the rest of her body.

As she strolled through the long rectangular room to the toilet, she noticed an occasional flashing of light as it passed through the south wall of windows. Curious about the light and now slightly more awake, she shuffled to the barred pane of glass. Spread out on the ground before here were close to a hundred military personnel quickly surrounding the building.

"Oh crap," she exclaimed, still half asleep and not wanting to wake the others.

"Oh crap!" she said again a second later and louder than before, once the full realization of the impending military incursion hit her. "Get up you two, we've got company!"

Colt and Dominic, both subconsciously worried about their safety had been sleeping, but not too soundly. At Hillary's outburst, they quickly woke themselves and within seconds were at the window by her side. While waking from their sleep deprived state would have normally taken each of them a couple of minutes, the panic in Hillary's voice called them to quicker action.

"What do we do?" Hillary asked Colt in desperation.

"They can't get the staff. You saw the way the military bigwigs salivated when I showed them what it could do. They'd use it as a weapon, and I can't allow that. Plus I trust my judgment a lot more than theirs." Colt didn't want to hurt the military personnel surrounding his building like ants circling a piece of fruit, but he would protect his friends and the staff no matter what.

"Great speech Colt, but how are we gonna do that?" Dominic asked, not seeing a way out.

"I don't know, but if we don't get moving they'll just keep sending more troops, and then there's definitely no way out," Colt replied, quickly thinking through different scenarios.

Colt took a final glance out the window. "Guys, get your shoes on, I've got an idea." Colt waited until Dominic and Hillary were ready to go then grabbed the Lightning Staff and headed to the barrack's front door.

The glowing staff added a much-needed source of illumination to light their way through the darkened bunkroom. Although there was a high probability the military would see a strange glowing object moving through the barrack, they'd certainly notice the entire room's bank of fluorescent lights being turned on in the middle of the night.

Colt stopped a few feet from the door. "Stand back guys," he said lowering the Lightning Staff. Immediately the staff started glowing brighter and pulsating faster before a beam of light shot out from the top of the staff, blowing the sealed double doors open. Colt wondered if one of the small clouds had formed above the barrack like he had seen each of the previous times he had used the staff outdoors; however, the purely academic thought only lasted a brief second.

"Huh. I wasn't sure if this would work inside, but I guess we know the answer to that question now," he thought aloud.

"Now there's only a few hundred more we need answered," Hillary nervously joked.

Under both the left and right unhinged doors, lay a singular guard knocked unconscious from the unexpected blast. Rifling through their pockets, Colt found one of the guards' phones and tossed it to Dominic. He then carefully checked each end of the hallway for additional troops before readying to move. Seeing none, he motioned for his friends to follow. Silently they stalked the empty hallway until they reached the door leading outside into the cool and drizzly night.

"Dom, call the U.S. Air Force base we passed on the way here and give them a heads up on the situation. Tell them to get a plane ready ASAP and that we're on our way." He paused for a deep calming breath, "Now both of you stay behind me no matter what, alright?" Colt ordered his friends. Having climbed to the top of his professional field in record time, Colt was used to his orders being followed. Even though his two assistants were his girlfriend and best friend, he knew that when a situation called for him to lead, they could be counted on.

Slowly, but in one fluid motion, Colt pushed open each of the double doors leading outside. He walked through the doors with both hands held high in the air, hoping not be fired on. His left hand was free and open wide, while the other was tightly grasping the glowing Lightning Staff. He stopped only a foot outside of the long tiled hallway, where for the moment Hillary and Dominic were still stuck behind him, inside the building.

The late night drizzle sprinkled him in the face while every soldier in the immediate area raised their rifles. "I don't want any trouble," he yelled into the crowd. "Just let us leave, and no one needs to get hurt."

Colt listened to the resulting murmurs as his words were repeated throughout the ranks. Unfortunately not one of the many guns leveled in his direction moved an inch.

"Set down the staff and back away. No one needs to get hurt," sounded a concrete voice over a loud speaker. Colt found it hard to locate the speaker's exact location as numerous spotlights were pointed at him, blurring his vision.

"I feel the same way," Hillary and Dominic heard Colt mutter in response before the staff's glow became bright as the sun. An instant later, before any of the British forces had a chance to fire their guns, lightning erupted from the sky. Unlike before however, when a singular bolt had struck Colt's intended target, this time the lightning formed a brilliant netting that slowly descended onto the wet ground.

Small bursts of electricity raced across the wetted terrain. The white charging currents of electricity crawled up the military vehicles, the armed personnel, and anything else in its way. Curious as to what Colt had done, Dominic and Hillary peered over his shoulder, still safely positioned in the building's doorway. One by one they watched as each person standing on the wet ground convulsed as the electrical energy passed through their all too susceptible bodies.

Within a couple of seconds, the electrical charge had dissipated, and the fight was over. Only Colt and his friends were left standing, while everyone else was convulsing on the ground.

"Come on you two. We've only got a couple of minutes to get out of here before they come to," Colt ordered. He quickly dashed down the barrack's front steps and further into the drizzly night. Around him the soldiers were still writhing on the ground as the small amounts of electrical charge continued working its way out of their bodies.

"Here, this one," he said pointing to a low idling jeep. "Dom, you drive. Hill, you're up front, and I'll get in the back just in case I need to use the staff again." They piled into the vehicle and were on the main road within a minute after Colt had effectively shocked the entire area's contingent of troops.

"Are they going to be okay?" Hillary asked once they were on the road.

"Yeah, I didn't hit them that hard. I don't know how to explain it, but when I'm using the staff, we somehow talk to each other," Colt said.

"You talk to that thing?" Dominic asked slightly disgusted at the thought.

"Kind of, I don't know. It's hard to explain. When I'm holding the staff there's some sort of connection; like it knows what I want it to do, and at the same time, I know how to use it, even though I've never had any training. I guess the best way to describe it is it's like your hand. You never took any classes on how to use it, but yet whatever your brain wants it to do your hand does it. This staff is kind of similar I guess."

Hillary and Dominic looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders only slightly understanding what Colt was trying to explain.

"I guess you have to experience it to understand what I'm talking about," Colt added insightfully.

Up ahead in the distance bright lights were scanning the road from a tower rising over the razor wire fencing separating the American Air Force base from the English countryside. One of the spotlights raced across the road, meeting their stolen jeep and began following it as they drove to the closed gate.

The late night's drizzle was turning more and more into rain as the night progressed, blurring their vision. Dominic stopped the car by the main gate's guard booth and waited. Quickly a guard, followed by another higher-ranking official, approached the driver's side door.

"Are you Dominic?" the guard asked. He peered into the jeep's open window and surveyed its occupants. The guard paused for a moment as he caught sight of Colt holding the glowing Lightning Staff before dashing back into his small outside office. The visual confirmation of the staff had answered his question.

Before Dominic had time to inquire about what was happening, the small airstrip's main gate was opening, and they were being ushered inside. The now soaked guard continued to motion for Dominic to follow him with the jeep, while he ran further into the small base. In the distance through the increasing rain, Dominic saw a brightly lit hanger with people bustling to and fro.

Just outside of the hanger sat a B-52H with all four engines running. Dominic followed the guard with his jeep inside the well-lit hanger and coasted to a stop as directed. Once the jeep was halted, an American hummer pulled in directly behind them.

"Colt Andrews I presume?" The senior official who had been standing behind the guard back at the entrance gate asked after jumping out of the hummer. Colt nodded as the official ushered them from the stolen jeep. They stood alongside their vehicle with what little belongings the British had allowed them to keep, wondering what would happen next.

"We're Americans," Colt announced to the silent hanger. He approached the unnamed general while tightly clutching the staff's middle handle. "Are you getting us out of here, General?" he asked. Although not a military man himself, Colt's dad had been in the Army. Colt knew the lone star on the man's uniform standing in front of him meant he was a general.

"This isn't how we usually do things around here, but I guess this time we're forced to make an exception. You really aren't helping our relations with England though," the General added with an air of slight disapproval. He turned his attention from Colt to the staff, which was as usual pulsating with its soft pale-golden light while held in Colt's hand.

The General was about to inquire of the strange object when a steady stream of headlights popped up over the hill in the distance. There was only one road leading to the American airstrip and only one reason that many vehicles would be on it at this time of night.

"It looks like they've sent the cavalry. I'm afraid it's time for you three to take a quick trip out of here." The General paused, looking for their escort. "Richards, get these three on the plane and take off!" he yelled.

"Yes sir!" came the dutiful response.

Colt and the others were then quickly herded by a few of the Air Force's ground crew onto the large plane. What seemed like only seconds after they were seated, the plane's four massive engines began spinning, sending strong vibrations throughout the hollow craft. The plane rapidly sped along the wetted tarmac and into the rain-soaked nighttime sky, leaving England behind.

Once they reached the large aircraft's cruising altitude, the captain delivered a quick update on the length of their flight and their intended destination. Initially each of their tired bodies was hopped up on a mixture of the rush of their exciting getaway and the adrenaline that was brought with it. However, the combination of the night's black sky, hundreds of miles of even blacker ocean, and the monotonous hum of the engines, eventually lulled each of them to sleep.

## Chapter

## 8

"Mr. President?" his aid and secretary softly spoke while knocking at the President's door. Only silence returned. "Mr. President?" he said a little louder and knocking more forcefully.

"Yes?" came the President's groggy reply.

"I'm sorry to wake you, but Tony Wilson is on the phone for you. He says it's urgent."

"Who?" the President asked, still not fully awake. Slowly he sat up in bed and turned his body, so his feet hung towards the floor.

"Tony Wilson, England's Prime Minister," the secretary said, growing slightly annoyed.

"Yeah, okay. I'm coming just let me get some slippers on." Less than a minute later, the President of the United States in all of his glory appeared from the darkened room. His greying hair was a tussled mess, and bits of sleep still rested in the corner of his left eye. He gazed down the hall toward one of the White House's large windows and to his dismay saw not a glimmer of morning light. It was just another day in his exciting life where sleep was a luxury, not a necessity.

"Well, what's this all about?" he asked, rather demanded of his secretary.

"Tony Wilson is on the phone, and he says it's urgent."

"So, this was so urgent it couldn't wait for another few hours?" President Davis muttered to himself. A few minutes later he was in his office and picking up the phone.

"Tony, so what's so pressing I needed to be woken up for?" he asked as Jerry brought him a steaming cup of black coffee.

"Good morning Robert, we've got a bit of an issue. A week ago, Peru asked Colt Andrews and his two American associates, who've been working in London for some time now, to come investigate a new archeological site that had just been discovered. Well they went, and they uncovered something truly amazing. So amazing in fact, that they asked us for a military escort out of the country."

"I'm listening, what was so amazing they felt they needed military protection and how does this concern the United States?" the President asked.

"Well, I'm not sure how best to describe what they found other than it's some sort of staff that can control lightning."

The President laughed.

"Don't laugh Robert. I'm dead serous here, just hear me out."

"Alright, I'm sorry. Please continue." The President took a long drink of the stiff brew and instantly felt more awake.

"There were apparently some inscriptions about Zeus, but that's not really important. What is important is that Colt was on our payroll, and now he's on a plane headed to the United States with our staff."

"Sorry Tony, I must be missing something here. If he called you for support, why is he headed to the United States? Why didn't he just stay in England?"

"There was a disagreement about who should keep the staff. We tried to take it from him and his friends, and they went to one of your American Air Force bases. They're probably almost in the United States by now," the Prime Minister said and then paused. "Robert, that staff is the property of England, and I expect it to be returned the moment that plane lands in your country."

"Well, since this is the first I'm hearing about any of this let me assess the situation, and then I'll get back to you. That's the best I can do for now."

"Thank you Robert. I knew I could count on you to do the right thing," the Prime Minister added. He hung up the phone and hoped that the President really would be naive enough to keep his word on returning the powerful artifact.

President Davis pulled his still sleepy body out of the oval office's plush chair. "Walk with me, Jerry," he ordered his secretary. "So, what is this all about and why wasn't I informed?" President Davis knew his secretary had been briefed on the matter in case he asked. Now he was asking.

"Where should I begin sir?"

"How about at the beginning," the President gruffly replied. He was already in his bathroom, changing out of his pajamas and into the day's suit, which he had laid out the night before. His wife of twenty-five years had died the previous winter, and he and Jerry were alone in the room, as was often the case. President Davis had left the door to the bathroom slightly ajar, so he could multi-task getting ready for the day, while listening to his assistant's update.

"So, Colt Andrews or I guess Sir Colt Andrews found a staff that can shoot lightning somewhere in Peru."

The President stuck his head out of the bathroom door. "This staff, it really can shoot lightning?" he asked in disbelief.

"From what I've been told, sir," Jerry replied.

"Hmm, no wonder the Prime Minister wants it back so much," the President postulated and ducked his head back into the bathroom. He still wasn't convinced such a thing existed, but he was growing eager to hear where the story was leading.

"Anyway, the rest of the details are kind of sketchy, but apparently the staff will only work for Mr. Andrews since he was the first one to touch it after the staff was discovered. Well, the Brits wanted the staff, and Mr. Andrews didn't want to give it to them, so they tried to take it by force."

"So, obviously they didn't get it." The President surmised. He opened the bathroom door, fully dressed and ready to go. His secretary fell in behind him and continued with the update.

"No, Mr. Andrews still has it in his possession. It appears he electrocuted about a hundred British soldiers as he and his friends fled."

"Dear God! How many of them died?" the President gasped.

"Actually none, sir. Two of the soldiers needed defibrillators, but everyone was else was okay. The electrocution was really more like a mass tazering."

"Whew," the President whistled. "I'm surprised Tony didn't demand the staff _and_ Mr. Andrews in handcuffs after an incident like that. Where are they now?"

"Last I heard they were about two hours out from Joint Base Andrews," Jerry dutifully replied.

"Good. Get my car ready. I want to be there when they land."

"Yes, sir," his secretary responded and scurried away.

***

The phone rang five times, and each time Roger tried to ignore its beckoning call. He pulled his overly stuffed pillow over his head, trying to muffle the sound. The phone was quiet for a minute and then began ringing again; such was the life of a reporter. After the fourth ring Roger finally gave up and answered the blasted device.

"Roger Smith speaking," he yawned. "What can I do for you?"

"Hey Roger old chap, sorry to wake you, but I think you're going to want to hear this," Reginald spoke excitedly into the phone. Reginald had been a British CNN correspondent for nearly thirteen years and was still waiting for his _golden_ story, as he called it. What he'd seen and heard only a few hours ago was a _golden_ story, but unfortunately, his story had just hopped on a plane back to the United States. His only hope now was to share a piece of his _golden_ pie with his American counterpart Roger Smith.

"Yeah, yeah. This better be good buddy. I've got another three hours of sleep in me."

"Oh, its golden buddy," Reginald replied. "I called you first since you're my best American friend in the business." He was more excited that he'd been in years and Roger could hear it in his voice.

"Alright, I knew you were serious when you called it _golden_. You don't need to lay it on so thick though. Just tell me what's up." Roger sat up in his bed and scratched an itch on his side. He flipped on the lamp sitting on his end table and grabbed the pencil and paper, which were always waiting for a call just like this. "I've got a pencil and paper so shoot."

"The details are kind of sketchy, but there was a fight on one of our military bases."

"So, what's so special about that?" Roger asked.

"Stop interrupting and I'll tell you. One of you yanks electrocuted close to a hundred of our military men, then hopped on a plane across the pond back to your neck of the woods. Now, I've got a few guys in the military unit that was involved, and they give me tidbits of information now and then and one of them just happened to be at this little soiree. He said the Yankee used some sort of a staff that created a bolt of lightning out of nowhere and shocked all of them at once! He also said they've heard American chatter that he's now heading to Andrews Air Force Base or Joint Andrews Base or whatever you Yanks are calling it now. If I were you I'd get one of your guys to get a high powered camera lens, get over there and take some pictures."

"Any idea when they're supposed to get in?" Roger asked already out of bed and pulling on a pair of pants.

"We're guessing six or seven o'clock your time this morning. So go get some shots and call me back. I've got another piece of information, but I'm not going to let you have it until I see you've got some good quality pictures. Remember Roger old chum, we're in this fifty-fifty. You help me out, and I'll help you out."

"Don't worry I'm not going to try and screw you. I just hope you didn't get me out of bed for nothing, but I guess we'll know in a few hours," Roger replied. He had never known Reginald to lie to him, and he had no reason to believe this was going to be his first time.

"Go get those pictures, and we'll break this story together," Reginald said.

"Okay, talk to you in a few," Roger said and hung up the phone. He quickly gathered the rest of his belongings and rushed out the door.

Twenty minutes later and outside one of his closest friend's house; a friend who also happened to be one of the best people he knew to wield a gigantic telephoto lens, he was knocking on his front door.

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP

Roger banged on his friend's front door, but there was no response. He rapped another set of knocks on the door's wooden frame harder than the last, but still didn't see any lights being turned on or hear any sounds from his friend stirring inside.

Roger left the house's front porch and traversed the maze of hedges and prickly rose bushes to the rear of the house where Bill's bedroom was located. Roger stood on his tiptoes and peered inside through the darkened window. He thought he could see a lump in the middle of Bill's bed, but the lack of contrast between the dark bedroom and the early morning sky made it difficult to tell for sure.

Still watching the presumed lump of his friend on the bed, Roger banged on the bedroom window. Sure enough, the lump moved and then stopped. Roger banged again, harder and longer than before.

"Bill, it's Roger," he yelled while pounding against the window's aluminum frame. This time the lump moved and grew larger as his friend Bill sat up and eventually lumbered to the closed window.

"What do you want? I'm trying to sleep one off here," Bill replied grouchily.

"I need you and your camera for a few hours' worth of work," Roger yelled back through the pane of glass.

Bill, annoyed and not afraid to show it, shooed Roger away from the window and toward the back door. Roger smiled in understanding and was waiting for Bill on the back door's landing when the light flicked on a few minutes later. As Bill unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door, Roger noticed he was already fully dressed. Roger was fairly certain they were the same clothes he'd seen Bill wearing the day before. The wrinkled creases on his friend's shirt and a light red ketchup stain were a dead giveaway.

Roger had felt sorry for his friend the last couple of months ever since his wife of ten years had left him. He knew Bill was probably drinking a little too much all alone in his empty house. As his friend, he tried to come over as often as he could; which wasn't all that much. But this early morning Roger felt he could actually do some good. He could spend some time with his hurting friend while giving him a job at the same time.

Bill didn't let Roger in the house, but ushered him off the steps following close behind. Roger could smell the night's booze on Bill's breath and clothes. In Bill's right hand was a bottle Roger hoped was filled with water and not alcohol. In his left was a bottle of Excedrin. Before Bill said a word, he popped three pills in his mouth and chased them with a large gulp of the clear liquid.

"So, you got some pictures you need taken, huh? Must be pretty important to be rushing over here in the middle of the night," Bill said while massaging his aching temples.

"If what Reginald told me is true, this story could be golden," Roger said with a smile.

Bill caught the joke and tried to fight back a grin. "I should've known that blowhard had something to do with this. I tell you though, if he got you to get me out of bed for nothing, I'm going to fly over there and kick his butt. I was in the middle of a perfectly good hangover," Bill replied as his smile faded. "Well let's go. What are we waiting for and where are we heading?" Bill said as he headed to his car's front door.

"Whoa man, you're not driving. Not the state you're in. Just get your gear and I'll get us to Andrews."

"The Air Force base huh? Sure, you can drive if you think I can't. I can sleep on the way there anyway."

Bill grabbed his gear from his car's back seat and emerged from the back of his house a few minutes later. Roger was already waiting in his car with the trunk's hood open. After stowing his gear in the trunk and slamming it shut, Bill gently sat down in the car's passenger seat.

"So, what're we looking for?" Bill asked, taking another drink of the clear liquid.

"Um, we're looking for lightning," Roger replied, preoccupied by the questionable clear liquid. "Hey Bill, I just have to ask, what's in the bottle. It's not more alcohol is it?"

Bill responded to his friend's question with a look of indignation. "No, it's not alcohol. You need a drink to see for yourself?" he said handing him the bottle.

"No. I believe you," Roger quickly replied. Although not completely convinced, his worries did subside for the most part.

"So, about the lightning?" Bill asked, now even a little more confused about their secret trip than before.

"All I know is Reginald said someone's going to be flying into Andrews with some sort of device that can produce bolts of lightning. He said this guy has already used it against a bunch of soldiers in England.

"And you're hoping I can get some pictures to prove this thing's existence, right?" Bill asked for clarification.

"Bingo. I'm guessing we're only going to get a few shots of it leaving the plane. So, do you have any ideas where you can get the money shot?"

"Yeah, I think I know a spot or two where we could get a few pictures. There are a couple of locations along the highways where my lens could get some clear pictures, _if_ they have this cloak and dagger thing of yours out in the open."

"Excellent," Roger replied. He shifted the car into drive and sped along the early morning deserted streets as the sun's first rays started appearing on the horizon.

## Chapter

## 9

As the plane slowly descended towards Andrews Air Force base, which was only thirty minutes by car from the center of Washington D.C., the morning sun was just beginning to peak its head over the horizon.

Hillary stirred as a ray of sun shone through one of the airplane's rounded windows and onto her face. Still strapped into her seat, Hillary jerked trying to move while not remembering exactly where she was. The thick canvas straps tightened against her seizing muscles and kept her clamped in her seat. Opening her eyes, the previous night's memories came flooding back.

She looked over at Colt, still asleep and tightly fastened to his chair. She smiled seeing both of his hands still firmly gripping the methodically pulsing staff.

Hillary reached over, placed one of her warm hands on his arm, and gently shook. The staff sensed her coming closer and tried to warn its master by pulsing harder and faster. Hillary marveled at the ancient artifact, but wasn't afraid. She was only touching her boyfriend, not trying to take the staff.

Colt stirred at the soft human contact and thrust his legs and arms out into the air, stretching all four at the same time. He let out an overly loud yawn and pulled his extended appendages back to his body. Colt looked over at Hillary's smiling face and leaned over to kiss her forehead as she leaned in to give him a morning hug.

"What's with all the ruckus?" Dominic asked while stirring in his seat. He too yawned and gazed out of the airplane's window. The sun had risen further and now appeared as a flaming ball sitting on the horizon. Dominic arched his head to get a better angle and saw land approaching from the west. The United States had never looked so good.

The plane then started its decent into Joint Base Andrews. "Make sure your straps are tight. We're going to be landing in a few minutes," the captain's voice projected over the loud speakers.

A few dips of turbulence and a soft bounce off the hard tarmac later, Colt and the others started unclipping their harnesses. Alone in the rear of the massive aircraft, they were anxious to put their feet on solid ground. Before long a grinding whine sounded from the rear of the plane as the tail's ramp began lowering.

The morning's early light flooded into the cargo hold. Colt and the others shielded their eyes momentarily, as their eyes adjusted to the incoming light. Two armed servicemen stepped onto the ramp once it reached the ground, blocking their path.

"What's this all about?" Colt questioned and took a menacing step forward. Colt wasn't a pacifist, but he didn't normally go around searching for fights either. The last few days, however, had frayed his nerves, and he was currently in no mood for games. He felt the staff's power radiating through him; ready for its use at any moment.

A third more highly decorated officer strode in between the two armed service men and looked Colt and his companions up and down.

"The President of the United States is outside of this aircraft and would like to meet the three of you. Is that going to be a problem?" he asked Colt directly.

Colt glanced back and forth between Hillary and Dominic who both bore curious expressions at the news.

"I guess we might as well," Hillary agreed.

"Why not? If they were going to arrest us there'd be no need for the President to be here," Dominic added with a shrug.

"I was thinking the same thing, Dom," Colt replied. He turned his attention back to the waiting officer. "Sure, that would be fine with us," he replied. "No trouble here."

The officer motioned for them to follow him down the ramp. The rising sun cast long shadows of Colt, Hillary, and Dominic against the cracked tarmac as they exited the large aircraft and into the morning's light. Colt wasn't sure about the other two, but finally placing his feet solidly on familiar American soil gave him an extreme amount of relief.

Colt scanned the expansive landing strip. Maybe thirty yards from the plane's rear ramp, was waiting the President of the United States. Colt recognized him almost instantly from his picture on T.V. having never met the man before; he was unsure how this first meeting was going to progress. In Europe, his having been knighted by the Queen of England, combined with the numerous priceless artifacts he'd discovered over the years, had given him a sort of rock star like status. But in his home country, where he'd spent relatively a small amount of time except for the occasional lecture or exhibition, he was rather unknown.

"So, you've caused a bit of trouble for me across the ocean young man," the President half-joking and half-seriously chided Colt and the others as they approached before exchanging pleasantries. The President then held out his hand for Colt to shake.

"Sorry about that, Mr. President. I know why they wanted this, and I couldn't allow that to happen," Colt replied and patted the Lightning Staff. Each singular pat sent a ripple of light through the staff, beginning from where it was touched and ending at the opposite ends. The President stared in awe at the flowing waves of light, having never seen anything like it before.

Completely forgetting politics for the moment, the President asked to see a demonstration of the device.

"Sir, we don't know anything about this _thing_. I'm not sure it's wise to ask for a demonstration before it has been thoroughly studied," a member of his high-ranking military attaché advised.

"Your concern is noted admiral, but if Mr. Andrews hasn't been bothered by the staff after having direct contact with it for days now, then I'm sure we'll all be fine," the President replied as fact. Colt watched the President out of the corner of his eye and could tell he was almost giddy with excitement. The situation reminded him of exactly how the staff's presence had been greeted in England; it was déjà vu all over again. The question was how would it turn out this time?

"Son, if it's alright with you, I'd like to see this staff of yours in action," the President asked, turning his attention back to Colt.

"Sure thing, Mr. President. What do you want me to do?"

The President scanned the area for something close by, whose destruction would not raise any eyebrows. "How about those three blue barrels way over there," the President suggested.

"Okay. If you don't mind giving me a bit of room that shouldn't be a problem." Colt took a step forward as those closest to him took a few steps backward. As before he held the staff out in front of him and cocked it at a fifteen degree angle for effect.

Colt visualized the blue fifty-gallon drums within his mind and imagined a singular bolt of white-hot lightning erupting from the sky and striking them. The staff began pulsating with an increasing brightness of golden light, while overhead the blackest of small rain clouds formed out of thin air. A lightning bolt shot out of the cloud with such an intensity all of those present could hear it sizzling through the air.

The bolt struck the three plastic barrels, melting them instantly and revealing they were each filled with sand. As the blue containers' plastic melted, bubbling to the ground, then sand inside was immediately turned into a large hump of yellowish-clear glass.

"Holy cow!" the President cheered. "No wonder the Brits wanted the staff!"

"Yep, now you can see why I wanted to keep it in my possession. In fact, we've figured out since I was the first person to touch it, for some reason I'm the only one who can actually use it. This staff, Mr. President, would be essentially useless to anyone else, which is why I'd like to keep it with me for further studying."

"Well if what I heard from the Prime Minister is true, then I don't have much of a choice, do I?" The President paused and looked Colt up and down, trying to nail down the young man's character. "That won't of course be a problem for me, will it?"

"No sir," Colt replied enthusiastically. He was relieved the situation was showing promise to play out much differently in the states than it did in England.

"So, let me ask you a question. I'm a Catholic, and I sure as heck one hundred percent believe there's a higher power. But seeing this staff and what it can do makes me wonder, what if?" President Davis searched Colt's eyes wanting an answer to a morally compromising question.

"If you're asking if I think Zeus really was real or not, the answer is no, I don't. Now, that being said I haven't a clue to where this came from, or how it's controlling lightning, but from my years of studying and working in this field, I have never found anything that would lead me to believe any of the Greek or Roman gods of legend ever existed in any form except in the imagination of men."

"If I asked you for your most educated guess, where do you think it came from then?" the President asked, clearly wanting some sort of concrete answer. Colt wasn't sure if President Davis needed the question answered for himself or someone else.

"Honesty, Mr. President, I don't have a clue," Colt admitted.

"Fair enough. There's one condition to me letting you keep the staff with in your possession though and that is your complete willingness to cooperate with my people to find out as much about this weapon as possible."

"Sure thing. Actually the resources of the United States' government would be extremely helpful in understanding this relic. Like you, I have questions of my own that need answering."

"Then we've got a deal," the President said. He reached out to shake Colt's hand one final time and turned to leave toward a jet-black limo waiting on the other side of the tarmac.

"Um, President Davis, there is one more item you need to be aware of."

"And that is?" the President asked, not annoyed at the delay in his departure.

"My team and I have reason to believe there might be more artifacts of this type hidden around the world. In the room where we found the Lightning Staff there were also inscriptions vaguely detailing where Zeus' brothers and sisters are buried." Colt paused, gauging the President's interest. So far their conversation could not have progressed any better than he had hoped, and the last thing Colt wanted was to irritate the most powerful man in the world. Seeing no opposition, Colt continued.

"The door leading into the chamber where this staff was housed, labeled the room as Zeus' final resting place. Now I don't believe Zeus was ever in there, but this weapon as you just called it, clearly contains a power we attribute to the god of thunder. If the places mentioned on the pedestal below where the staff was found are supposed to represent where his siblings are _buried,_ then it's reasonable to surmise they too might house powerful artifacts.'

"What kind of powers are we talking about?" the admiral chimed in clearly concerned more objects like Colt's Lightning Staff might exist.

"Well, he had five brothers and sisters, with Hera being his sister and his wife. But the two Greek gods I'd be worried most about, if they too have weapons, would be Poseidon and Hades; the gods of the ocean and death respectively. I'm only speculating here, but if any such artifacts exist with the power to discriminately kill or control the ocean, we could be in for a world of hurt if someone discovered them before us and meant to do the United States harm."

"I see. Jerry, clear my schedule this afternoon," President Davis ordered his secretary. "I want Mr. Andrews, his two associates, and the Joint Chiefs of Staffs assembled, so we can fully address this bag of worms this man and his team have just uncovered."

"Yes sir," Jerry dutifully replied.

"Now, if there's no further scenarios of impending doom, I have a busy day ahead of me," the President said rotating back to Colt.

"No sir, I just wanted to say I'm sorry if I caused you any problems with my actions over in England."

"Nah, don't worry about it, young man. You've done your country a great service bringing back this artifact. Plus, there's no way Tony Wilson wants a story getting out about how one American defeated over a hundred soldiers with some silly staff purportedly left here by Zeus, the god of thunder," the President said laughing.

"But in all seriousness, you've got a lot of work to do. Find out what makes this staff tick, where it comes from, but most importantly, you need to figure out if you're right about their being more of these relics around the globe. If more of these exist, it's best the United States discover them before anybody else. There are a lot of whackos out there who'd use them as weapons of mass destruction given the chance."

The President gave Colt a final handshake and was then quickly ushered to his waiting motorcade. Colt watched the President leave while scratching his head. How was he supposed to accomplish all of that in one afternoon? The details the President wanted could take months depending on how tedious of reports he generated. As the President's motorcade sped away from Colt along the airport's tarmac, the throng of high-ranking military, scientific, and political officials who'd watched the staff's destructive power in the distance swarmed him and his friends like they were rock stars asking question after question.

## Chapter

## 10

"Tell me you got that Bill," Roger said. His face hurt he was smiling so big. Reginald had been right, this story was absolutely golden.

"Oh I got it," Bill returned. For the first time in two months, he wasn't thinking of his next drink or of his ex-wife. Even his headache seemed to have disappeared for the moment. He patted the side of his telephoto lens as if it were a delicate baby.

Roger smiled even wider, feeling his skin being stretched more than it was used to. He slapped his friend on the back in excitement, knowing this was going to make each of them famous and maybe rich too. Roger leaned on the concrete highway railing and let the moment settle in. In his profession, besides a major disaster, this was about as good as a story could get. In Bill's camera was a story so new, so unique, he knew he could probably milk its global impact for months.

"You know, I thought you were full of crap a few hours ago when you came to my house," Bill said. "I mean, come on a staff that can shoot lightning? It's something out of a science fiction novel. Those things never really exist. It's like the Yeti or the Lock Ness Monster, you hear about them, but everyone knows they're just fiction. Yet here we are, and I just saw it do exactly what you said. I tell you though, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I never would have believed you; not in a million years."

Roger smiled and patted Bill on the back again. "Well, I'm glad you believe me now. But just between us, I thought Reginald was full of crap too." Roger was thrilled Reginald had proven him wrong. Many times, the phone had awakened him in the middle of the night, only to arrive after the story had already broken or sometimes there never was really a story to begin with. This time however was different.

"Alright, let's get off this overpass and look at those pictures," Roger suggested. Normally he'd wait until returning to the office to see what his cameraman had captured on film, but this time his excitement was too great.

Half a mile down the road Bill had already removed the camera's memory card and was uploading the pictures onto his laptop. The first fifty photos were of Colt Andrews and the staff along with the President and the other officials at the landing sight. Another twenty plus digital photographs were of only the staff itself, many of which were zoomed in to capture the smallest of details.

"Here come the money shots," Bill announced as he used the keypad to flip through the large files. The next slew of pictures was of Colt summoning the small cloud that spewed the massive bolt of lightning from its middle.

"Wow, I can't believe we actually got it!" Roger shouted.

Bill stopped on the most impressive picture of them all. He wasn't sure if it was luck or skill, but the picture showed a thin trail of lightning connecting Colt's staff to the black cloud and then an even thicker and more radiant bolt of lightning coming from the same dark cloud, impacting with the three blue barrels, which looked like melting goo.

"That's more than a money shot my friend. That's a Pulitzer Prize winner right there," Roger interjected. Both of them stared and studied the majestic picture displayed on the laptop's highly pixilated screen. Not one of the rest of the pictures was even close in comparison to the brilliance of the two streams of pure white energy and the radiant glow of the Lightning Staff.

Once back at the office and after they had both grabbed a much needed cup of coffee, Bill followed Roger to his side office and shut the door. Roger dialed Reginald's home phone and placed them on speaker.

"Hello," Reginald's almost giddy voice greeted them. "Tell me you Yanks have good news and that I didn't call the wrong people."

Roger thought about letting Reginald dangle like a perch on a fishing line for a few minutes, but his excitement was too great. "We got it Reg. I'm sending you the best picture now."

A minute passed in silence as Reginald waited anxiously for the file to zip its way from the states to England. Roger and Bill were also eagerly awaiting their British colleague's inevitable cry of delight.

"God save the queen," Reginald muttered in amazement after the picture finally opened. "Who do I have to thank for this wonderful masterpiece? It's greater than I could have ever imagined," he exclaimed.

"My friend Bill took that shot," Roger proudly replied. "I think he's going to have a good shot at a Pulitzer for that picture. Don't you agree?"

"Truthfully, I think it'll blow the competition away lads. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Now that we have the proof we need, we have to make a story out of this."

"Hang on there a sec, Reg. You said after we got the proof you'd send us another piece of information. I want to see everything there is before we continue. That was the deal," Roger interrupted, a little hot under the collar. He'd known Reginald a longtime and had no reason _yet_ to doubt his honesty, but journalists had a well-earned reputation for keeping their stories close to their vests. Too many times Roger had seen one reporter upend another just to get the story out a few hours earlier for their paper or newscast and make the headline at the expense of everyone else.

"Sorry, keep your knickers on. I just forgot that's all. I'm sending it to you now," Reginald honestly replied. After seeing Bill's shot of a lifetime, Reginald had completely forgotten the file sent to him by one of the British communication officers.

Once the file arrived and Roger clicked it open for both he and Bill to see, they were awestruck at the picture's ramifications. "Is this picture saying what I think it is?" Roger asked.

"I believe it is old chum. If Bill's picture of the Lightning Staff really is supposed to be Zeus's treasure, then according to this picture of inscriptions, there are at least five more treasures out there."

"Wow," Bill said and slumped into Roger's extra chair.

"Yes, wow as you put it, Bill," Reginald said feeling the same way. "This story is going to make each of us famous and rich," he nervously laughed.

"Settle down you two; first of all we need to get this thing ready for print. We've got some work ahead of us, so let's get started. If we're on task with this story, we could have it out by this evening," Roger suggested.

"My thoughts exactly. I'm going to call George Stonewall over here who's the head of England's museums to get his thoughts on this. From what I understand, he's the original person this file was sent to. So, although he might not be the happiest about us breaking the story, if he wants it done right I'm sure I can convince him to lend us a hand. Plus I've heard the guy is always looking for a handout, so I'm sure he'll be amenable for a certain price," Reginald replied.

"Alright, you call your man, and we'll see if we can't bang this thing out in a hurry. We're about to become famous you guys," Roger finished with a large smile, thinking of the bevy of talk shows and interviews sure to come their way.

"Oh, one more thing before you go. I'm thinking about leading with the title; Zeus' Lightning Staff Found! What do you guys think?" Roger asked.

"I absolutely love it, Roger. This is a story of a lifetime," Reginald replied, to which they all agreed.

## Chapter

## 11

The Secretary of Defense opened the SUV's large black rear door and stepped out into the warm sun. Already standing in the grassy clearing were Colt, Hillary, and Dominic along with the weirdly pulsating Lightning Staff. The Secretary strode across the long uncut grass to where the three were positioned and stopped.

"Well Mr. Andrews, let's see what that baby of yours can do."

Colt looked at the aging gentleman dressed in his full military fatigues. Although Colt had been wary of showing the United States' military the weapons' existence after what had transpired in England, so far his worries had been for nothing. He even noticed the Secretary of Defense, only second to the President in military superiority, had just referred to the staff as _his baby_ , which was a positive in itself.

"We're meeting with the President in five hours, so I didn't have much time to get this course set up, but this should at least give us a taste of what your Lightning Staff can do. For the moment, I don't care how you work that thing, just how it performs in these different scenarios. Look up in front of you on that hill. Do you see the cars and trucks up there?"

Colt followed the Secretary of Defense's finger toward a small hill in the distance. At least twenty cars and trucks were intermixed in an area about the size of a football field.

"Yeah, I see it," Colt acknowledged.

"It's a shame to have to destroy those vehicles because they're all in working condition, but the President wants results by this afternoon."

"Those cars all run? Man, that isn't cool. I could really use one of those bigger trucks," Dominic replied, thinking of his old dilapidated truck, badly in need of repair.

"I understand, son, but we're under a time crunch here. I only had an hour to prepare this little dog and pony show, and although cars from a scrap yard would have been cheaper, they can't drive themselves up that hill," the Secretary of Defense replied.

"Mr. Secretary, you might want to shield your eyes if Colt's going to use the staff against those cars. From what I've observed, the bigger the target the brighter the staff and the lightning bolts become," Hillary suggested, not overly eager to feel her retinas burning again anytime soon.

"Already taken care of." The Secretary motioned with his hand towards the car he'd arrived in, where a corporal came running out with four pairs of sunglasses. "These glasses have been used for nuclear testing, so I'm guessing they'll be more than sufficient for this." He handed a pair to Hillary and Dominic and then Colt.

"No thanks," Colt replied. "For some reason the light doesn't seem to bother me. I can tell the light gets brighter, but nothing so much so that it hurts my eyes. I can't say for sure, but I'd guess that there's some sort of optical protection sent out by the staff for its user."

"Suit yourself," the Secretary of Defense said and put on his special sunglasses. "Do your worst."

Colt took a step forward, separating himself from the others and began concentrating on the vehicle lined hill. Behind him were at least twenty spectators with no less than ten of them holding a camera or a piece of scientific hardware as the spectacle began.

As each time before, the staff began glowing a bright pulsing yellow then turning to white before a small black cloud was formed in the sky. A fantastic bolt of bluish white lightning shot out of the cloud seconds after its formation and toward Colt's intended targets. With so many vehicles as marks in the same location, the lightning bolt once halfway toward the earth branched out into five smaller bolts, which then each split into another four even smaller bolts before striking the parked vehicles individually at the same time.

As if a mortar had been dropped on top of the wide hill, all twenty cars and trucks exploded simultaneously. Gigantic fireballs erupted from most of the car's and truck's tanks of gasoline. Within minutes only charred remains of the vehicles remained, many of which between the lightning's powerful blast and the heat of the fire barely resembled a car or truck at all.

"Very impressive," the Secretary said, visibly pleased. "That's one test, now on to the next. Look over to your right. There's a car there and a car way over there. I want you to try and hit both of them at the same time."

Colt looked in the cars' directions. At least three football fields separated the parked vehicles. He wondered if the staff would be able to hit them simultaneously or if he'd have to use it twice. Maybe the lightning bolt would split in two again?

Colt turned the staff and commanded it to destroy the targets. The Lightning Staff obeyed his commands, but instead of striking the two cars separately or splitting a bolt of pure energy in half, this time two separate small black clouds formed; one above each target. The clouds simultaneously produced their desired energy, and the cars were utterly destroyed only milliseconds apart.

"Excellent Mr. Andrews, truly excellent. And now for the final test. If you'd turn around you'll see another ten cars lined up down the road. You've demonstrated the destructive nature of the staff with the twenty vehicles burned at one time, and you just showed its ease at destroying multiple targets spread apart. Now I want to see how it handles being used repeatedly instead of just one shot. If you can, take out each target by itself, working your way down the line. Let's see how your magic weapon does when it's used over and over again. From what I've seen, I'm betting it'll do just fine," the Secretary of Defense finished.

Colt took a step forward while everyone who had initially been behind him scurried from their positions toward his rotating rear. He waited for everyone to find a new spot safely behind him before raising the staff one final time. The staff pulsed with energy. Initially one small black cloud formed out of nothingness over the top of the first car, then another one formed over the second, then the third, and all the way to the last car. As each cloud formed, it produced a massive white bolt of energy, destroying the car underneath. The bolts of destruction continued in succession until each car was melted to a smoldering pile of plastic and metal.

"Again, simply amazing," the Secretary responded in awe. "Did you guys get all of that?" he asked turning to his cameramen. Three of the four gave a thumbs up, with the forth nodding in return. "How about the Geiger counter, anything?"

"Nope, clean as a whistle," a man holding a square box with a handle replied.

"Nice work, Colt," Dominic congratulated his friend. He loved watching Colt blow up the cars and trucks as if they were small little firecrackers. Dominic assumed everyone else was as thrilled as he was to see the cars obliterated into nothingness. Who didn't enjoy a good explosion?

"Is there anything else, sir?" Hillary asked from Colt's side. "I'd really like to spend some time searching the databases on the other possible artifacts' locations before we reconvene with the President later today if that's possible."

"That's exactly what I had in mind my dear. I'll have one of my men drop the three of you off wherever you want to go, and they'll pick you up at the same location at 3:00 this afternoon. I'd suggest the three of you get some lunch and then get to work. We only have a couple of hours until we report back to the White House."

Colt, Hillary, and Dominic shook the Secretary of Defense's hand for a quick goodbye. A military attaché then whisked them away to the Library of Congress, where Hillary and Colt would have every bit of knowledge the United States possessed at their fingertips and Dominic could lazily surf the internet.

***

Three hours of constant studying and a large supreme pizza later, Colt, Hillary, and Dominic were standing outside the Library of Congress along with the ever-pulsing Lightning Staff waiting for their ride to arrive. The Secretary of Defense had offered to keep the staff in his possession, and even though Colt had no reason to believe the Secretary's offer was nothing sinister, he declined, opting to keep the staff himself. Although as he continued receiving many odd gawking stares from the library's patrons and other Washingtonians throughout the afternoon, he began to wonder if he should have reconsidered the General's offer.

"You know, you're lucky you already have a girlfriend," Dominic stated as they watched their ride pull up to the curb. "If you keep carrying that staff around everywhere you go all of the ladies are going to think you're a big dork."

Hillary laughed. "Good thing I already _know_ you're a big dork," she said. She grabbed a hold of his arm not holding the staff and gave it a tight loving squeeze. The staff glowed brighter in anger at its master being touched but did nothing more.

Fifteen minutes after piling into their jet-black SUV, along with the same military escorts who had watched over them at the library, Colt's team arrived at the White House. The President was awaiting their arrival in the Oval Office along with other select personnel he had deemed essential to finding out if other similar artifacts really existed and what should be done about them.

All eyes were upon Colt and his glowing staff as he entered the room followed by Hillary and Dominic. Although no one, not even the famous Sir Colt Andrews, knew the staff's origin, not one person seemed bothered by a sense of fear at its inclusion in the packed room.

"There he is," the President warmly welcomed his guests. "Before we get started I just want to personally tell you this is the find of the century, Mr. Andrews that you and your team has made. You've made your country very proud today."

"Thank you, Mr. President," Colt humbly said. For the first time in days, he set the Lightning Staff down along one of the walls and felt comfortable walking away from it. With a room packed with so many people and important ones at that, Colt was worried about accidentally shocking one of them to death if they happened to bump into him. For this type of close quarter's situation, it was better just to let the staff remain dormant.

Colt caught Hillary's smile as he walked away from the staff and her silent mouthing of the word _dork_ with a grin.

"Now that every one's here let's get started," the President ordered. The President didn't sit with the rest, but leaned against the front of the Resolute Desk.

"Jim, how did the tests of this Lightning Staff go this morning?" President Davis asked the Secretary of Defense.

"About as perfect as they could have been. That staff is probably the most perfect weapon I've ever seen. It's deadly accurate, never needs to be charged, and in Mr. Andrews's words, it's a piece of cake to use," the Secretary responded.

President Davis walked over to the now bronze, but unlit staff. "Do you mind if I take a closer look at it?" he asked Colt.

"Sure. Now that I'm not holding it, I don't think it should pose any risk to you."

The President carefully picked up the dormant artifact and studiously looked it up and down. Once he was finished he asked if anyone else wanted to hold it, to which almost everyone said yes.

As the President's inner circle passed the staff from person to person, the President tried to keep the meeting on track. "So, what I really need to know is are there more of these devices out there?"

Hillary, standing next to Colt cleared her throat. "I'm not sure we can answer that right now. Until a few days ago, as far as we knew no one in the world knew this artifact existed. Right now, it's just too early to tell. However, that being said, out of the five additional locations that were mentioned on the bottom of the staff's pedestal, two of them were listed by name: Atlantis and Mount Vesuvius.

"Of course we all know that the city of Atlantis is fictional, but Mount Vesuvius is definitely real. Until we start digging around any of these veiled locations, I don't think we can make any real informed decisions. I'd suggest we start searching Mount Vesuvius before any of the other locations."

President Davis pondered the answer for a moment before asking, "Mr. Andrews, do you agree?"

Hillary gave the President a disapproving look for second-guessing her opinion. Was it because she was a woman? She turned her attention to Colt, starring him up and down, thinking if he knew what was good for him he'd back her up.

Colt felt Hillary's judging eyes, but whole-heartedly agreed with her assessment. "Yes, Mr. President, she's right. I think we need to get a team together to scour the inside of Vesuvius' cone for traces of Hades' temple. It might be the hardest to get to, but it could also be the easiest to find."

"Okay, then how can the United States help?" the President responded.

"Well, from what I know about volcanoes, they can get pretty darn hot," Colt joked. "We could use any technology that's available to keep us cool like personal A.C. units and some of those fancy reflective silver jumpsuits that can withstand the heat."

"Hmm," the President thought, "I think we might be able to help you out." He pushed the intercom button on his desk's phone. "Jerry, can you get us some sandwiches in here. I think we're going to be awhile. How's pastrami and ham sound to all of you?"

## Chapter

## 12

At 6:02 that evening, the President's secretary barged into the closed-door meeting interrupting the attendees' supper. Looks of indignation and annoyance greeted Jerry after bursting into the room, but he failed to notice, as his only focus was on the President.

"Mr. President, I'm sorry to interrupt, but you need to turn on the news."

President Davis searched his secretary's trusted eyes for a brief second and then waved his hand giving the go ahead. Jerry hopped from one side of the room to the other and flipped on the television. He quickly changed from ESPN, which was almost always on stemming from the President's strong love of sports, to CNN.

The broadcast was already in progress, but its content was clear to everyone. Plastered on the entire screen was Bill's magnificent shot of Colt destroying the blue barrels after their arrival at Joint Base Andrews.

"Wow, you look pretty buff in that picture," Dominic whispered in Colt's ear, which earned a disapproving scowl from the closest official.

After a while, Hillary replaced the picture of Colt using the Lightning Staff with the photograph of the pedestal she had taken in Peru.

"Hey, that's my picture," Hillary complained. The picture's eerie coloring from the Lightning Staff's glow along with Dominic's knee sticking out into the photograph's corner left her with little doubt the photo was hers.

"Did you send that picture to anyone else?" Colt asked.

"No, just George, that's it," she replied, clearly annoyed.

"It doesn't matter now," President Davis stated. He turned off the T.V. once the segment was finished. "Now the whole world knows what we have and that there might be more of them out there. It's going to be like the California gold rush, but this time on a global scale."

"We need to put all of our resources into finding those other sites before anyone else does," one of the generals advised.

"Yes, nothing has changed on that front," President Davis replied. "Nothing with what we've discussed has changed. Colt, you and your team will have any resources you require. We need to find the remainder of these artifacts before the rest of the world does. We're counting on you, Mr. Andrews."

Sir Colt Andrews looked the President squarely in the eyes and excitedly nodded in agreement. However enthused he and his team were in that moment, they didn't have a clue to how much their discovery of the Lightning Staff would change their lives and that of the entire world in the months to come.

## Thank you so much for taking the time to read my book.

 One of the best ways to increase a fan base is by way of reviews, so if you liked the book please leave me a review; I would really appreciate it.

Thank you again, Ryan

Find out about upcoming stories and new releases from Ryan Hartung at www.ryanhartung.com

##

## Please enjoy the following excerpt from _Death_ Book 2 in the World's Divide series.

## Available at your favorite E Book retailer

# Death

# World's Divide Book 2

## Chapter

## 1

Russian President Boris Aleksandrov watched the final clip of his state ran news version of CNN, which was currently detailing _ad nauseam_ the Americans' miraculous find of the ancient Peruvian artifact. The piece he noticed, however, was devoid of any mention of England first having the remarkable artifact and then allowing it to slip through their hands. In actuality, it mattered little to Boris who currently possessed the Lightning Staff, as the reporters had dubbed the artifact. What mattered to Boris was the possibility that more relics like it might actually exist.

"Have we taken to napping this early in the morning?" Anatoly Lipov, his aging mentor, questioned from the open door at seeing the Russian President silently staring out his large office window. Anatoly roughly pushed his unkempt greying hair to one side of his head, which meshed well with his rather drab communist styled clothing of dark blues and grey. Only his bright blue ever-watching eyes led credence to the brilliant and calculating mind hidden under the unimpressive exterior.

"Don't be ridiculous. I was only pondering this morning's world news report," Boris replied. Anatoly had taught him much over the years, but his mentor's judgmental character at times was a difficult pill to swallow, such as today where a simple good morning would have sufficed.

"Ahh, I see you've heard about the American's discovery then. Have you any thoughts on the matter?"

Boris studied the aging communist legend, knowing he believed there was only one correct answer to the question. "I was thinking Russia would benefit greatly from a device such as that. To control the lightning, what a weapon," Boris thoughtfully said, while at the same time eyeing his mentor and seeking his approval.

"Yes, powerful indeed, Boris. However, that staff would not necessarily have to serve as just a weapon though. Perhaps as a source of electricity or even more than that," Anatoly returned. "But we shouldn't waste our time deliberating the _would haves_ and _could haves_. What we should be discussing is that there are potentially five remaining artifacts."

"If they even exist," Boris blurted out, unconvinced.

"Are you really that naïve to believe they don't? The whole world has seen what the Lightning Staff can do. Do you really believe the passage of time has destroyed the other artifacts? Humans used to think the world was flat and that the earth was the center of the universe. Is it really that ridiculous that we might have been wrong about this too?"

"What do you want me to do old man?" Boris demanded, sick of Anatoly's game of questions. "Tell me!"

"You are the Russian president. You must decide for yourself what you must do. I can only offer advice. But, in a situation such as this, as the Americans are fond of saying, it's the early bird that gets the worm. I do not believe it would be wise to wait in the shadows while the rest of the world is hunting for these magnificent treasures."

"You would hunt for the relics then?"

"I would," Anatoly replied matter-of-factly.

"Well, I know you have a plan so spit it out. I'm not a mind reader."

"If I were Russia's president I would send a small reconnaissance team to search for the only artifact whose location was explicitly defined. I'd send them to Mount Vesuvius in Naples, Italy."

"What type of team, military or scientific?"

"That would be up you to decide, but I believe a team comprised of both trades would be most advantageous. My daughter Natalya has made quite a name for herself in Russian archeological circles. Plus, her views are staunchly in line with The Communist Party. There would be no lingering concerns that she'd use the artifact for personal gain or citizenship to another country. To her Russia comes first."

"Yes, I have watched her grow quite strong in many circles of influence lately, much like her older father," Boris replied to his mentor and saw a brief burst of pride in the old man's eyes. "I believe one scientific mind should be sufficient however for a mission such as this. The other members should all come from our military elite."

"Agreed. And there is one commander above all else who is perfectly suited for the task at hand."

"Vladimir Pavlov?" Boris Aleksandrov asked, certain he already knew the answer.

"Exactly," Anatoly confirmed. "Let _him_ pick his team. Two or three more soldiers along with Natalya will form a small group that can quickly enter and exit Italy without drawing very much attention. They should be able to ascertain if there is any validity to the treasure's existence or if it's a ruse."

"Yes, that is a good plan. I'll send Vladimir his orders. I'll inform him we want him and his team ready to go and out of the country within a day's time. His efficiency is well known. I wouldn't be surprised if within another forty-eight hours after their departure, we will know if the purported treasure of Hades actually exists."

"And with it, whether Russia will once again be able to control its own destiny," Anatoly added with optimism.

***

"Get a move on Dmitry, President Aleksandrov wanted us in the air two hours ago!" Vladimir Pavlov gruffly ordered his subordinate. Two hours earlier their first plane, on attempting to leave the Smolensk North Airport just outside of Moscow, had blown one of its engines. As Vladimir and his crew of three had been boarding the plane, the two pilots were dutifully following their normal checklists before takeoff. Out of nowhere, while the pilots were lastly checking each engine in turn, one of the engines caught fire, where the airport's ground crew quickly extinguished it. The fire had scrapped their flight.

Although an inconvenience, the situation was not out of the ordinary for Russia's aging fleet of military vehicles and aircraft. Vladimir had then quickly radioed his superiors requesting another plane, which was finally ready.

"Alright, on the plane everyone," Vladimir ordered his small team. Natalya and Pavel dutifully boarded the waiting aircraft, but their third companion was nowhere to be seen. Now, two hours later and behind schedule, Dmitry had somehow found a way to unready himself from the boarding process.

"So help me Dmitry, if you don't get your white Russian butt on that plane in the next five minutes I'll shoot you myself!" Vladimir growled, getting no response from Dmitry concerning his previous order. Vladimir's second threat, being much harsher than the first, finally found Dmitry's attention. Within well under five minutes, Dmitry was on the plane strapped in his seat with his military gear stowed underneath.

Having worked for Vladimir in the past, Dmitry was quite aware of his leader's ability to make good on his threats. As Vladimir himself boarded the plane, Dmitry along with Pavel and Natalya Lipov stared back at him with expressionless faces, waiting their orders.

Before addressing his small commando unit, Vladimir stuck his head into the pilot's cockpit and ordered, "Take off now." He didn't elaborate because he didn't need to. As he spoke his words, the tone in his voice let the pilots know he meant _now_.

Immediately, the pilots hurried the last part of their checklist. Before Vladimir had his seat belt buckled, the plane was already beginning to hurl itself down the cracked runway. He did not smile nor did he feel pleased that they were following his orders with such speed and veracity; he expected them to be.

In his seat with his lap belt secured, he turned in his chair to the three other Russians on the plane. Vladimir had worked with both Dmitry and Pavel on numerous military campaigns. When picking his team of three for this most curious of quests, he had required each person to be as different from the rest as possible to maximize their combined talents.

Dmitry was tall, but not overly muscular. Vladimir had chosen him to serve as the brains of their outfit. Most of the military units he'd previously worked with knew his computer skills and problem solving tactics were virtually unparalleled. For Vladimir however, the most important aspect of Dmitry's character, regardless of how smart he was, was that foremost Dmitry was a soldier first.

Pavel was not so much unlike Dmitry, also quite smart himself, but his talents lied elsewhere than modern electronic machinery. Pavel was a soldier's soldier to the core. There had yet to be an aircraft or military vehicle he couldn't operate or figure out. Radios, explosives, weaponry, Pavel was a master of each. If their small team encountered any resistance on their quest for Hades' treasure Vladimir felt as comfortable counting on Pavel as he did himself.

The only member of their quartet that Vladimir had not encountered before was Nataly Lipov. He knew she was the daughter of the Russian hero Anatoly Lipov, was considered a rising star in the communist party and was the only member of his squad he was not allowed to choose; besides those few facts he knew very little else. Looking her over, Vladimir noticed she was quite attractive, with solid Russian facial features and dark hair. Indeed, she was perfectly proportioned in almost every way. Her build was feminine, yet he could tell her core was fully muscled. Her soft brown eyes were alluring, but underneath he sensed an unyielding resolve and nerves of steel that any woman in Russian politics had to have.

"Listen up, I'm only going to say this once," Vladimir began. "Dmitry, Pavel, we know each other well, and we've worked well together in the past. Natalya, I have yet to work with you, but your reputation speaks volumes. Our task, we've been chosen to undertake, is interesting and not without ambiguity.

"We're flying directly into Naples, Italy. We'll then grab a car and drive to the base of Mount Vesuvius. From there we'll backpack with our gear to the top of the volcano, don our heat resistant suits if needed, and make our way inside the cone. As of now, the volcano is dormant, so we'll have to find a way inside the temple if there is one. Pavel, that's where we're counting on you. At the bottom of the cone, the heat should be bearable, maybe not even noticeable, but we'll need to get through the top layer. Personally, I think we're on a wild goose chase concerning this treasure, but this order has come directly from the president himself.

Natalya, why don't you tell us a little more about what we're after," Vladimir finished and turned his attention to the attractive woman.

"Sure. About twenty-four hours ago, news broke on what an American team of archeologists uncovered in the Amazon. They found a staff that can control lightning and is purportedly to be from or is the Greek god Zeus himself. There were five other treasures mentioned at the base of where they had discovered the Lightning Staff, and Mount Vesuvius was the only location out of the five that had been definitively named.

"Boris Aleksandrov has given permission to proceed to check the validity of this second treasure. I can't tell you if it exists or not. Even if the treasure was buried at the mouth of Vesuvius, the volcano has erupted so many times since then, the treasure and its chamber might have been completely destroyed some time ago. Our mission is to find out if anything is down there and if there is, to retrieve it for Mother Russia."

Vladimir looked at Natalya and nodded in complete agreement. She only enhanced her attractiveness by her military-like directness and description of their task. "Any questions?" he asked. He expected none and no one asked.

He often wondered what his position would be like in the American army. Did they debate every order or were the higher official's orders followed to the letter like his in Russia? Regardless of the Americans' popular democratic style of leadership, Vladimir was completely content in giving orders and knowing no one, if they knew what was good for them, would ever think to disobey.

Vladimir had his doubts about finding anything of value in the volcano's dormant crater, let alone some magical artifact thousands of years old. He shifted his body forward and stared through the cockpit's open door. Miles and miles of clear blue sky dotted with an occasional white wispy cloud formed the horizon. Vladimir didn't know why, but he felt it was an unusually optimistic sky.

## Once again, thank you so much for taking the time to read my book and excerpt.

One of the best ways to increase a fan base is by way of reviews, so if you liked the book please leave me a review; I would really appreciate it.

Thank you again, Ryan

Find out about upcoming stories and new releases from Ryan Hartung at www.ryanhartung.com

## Acknowledgments

I am extremely grateful for my loving wife Elizabeth, for without her love and support this book would not have been possible.

I would also like to thank Nick Proudlove for his proofreading and always being anxious for the next few chapters.

Finally I would like to thank Zackary Capewell. of Raven Tree Designs for his exquisite covers and unwavering support throughout the publication process.

## About the Author

Dr. Ryan E. Hartung spent most of his life growing up in rural Nebraska. After earning his Ph. D. in organic chemistry from the Ohio State University he then made a quick stop with his family in the garden state before finally settling in Tucson, Arizona. Ryan continues to live in Tucson with his wife Elizabeth, his two daughters Amber and Keira, their dog Ginger and currently untamed hamster Brave.

## Contact Ryan

Ryanhartung1953@gmail.com

www.facebook.com/ryanhartungauthor

To find out about Ryan's other books and projects visit www.ryanhartung.com

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