2293 words (9 minute read)

Chapter 4


Jamie Long pushed the door to the women’s volleyball locker room open. The college had just completed its renovation of the space. A massive forest green rug, complete with the hawk head logo above the school’s initials, sat in the middle of the new faux, dark wood floors. Around the room, dark wood cubbies lined the walls. Each niche had a built-in seat with matching green cushions. Printed above each cubby, on a plastic rectangle in the team color, was the team logo, player name, and player number.

Jamie spotted her number as she headed over to her cubby. As she slipped her practice jersey over her head, Jamie, clad in a sports bra and volleyball shorts, thought about the day’s practice. Her practice had been great, and the new assistant coach was excellent. Jamie had high hopes for this year’s volleyball team. She and her teammates seemed to work effectively together.

Her first year had been a rebuilding year, and though they hadn’t disgraced themselves, they hadn’t excelled either. Sophomore year had been much better, still, come November, Jamie expected great things.

Jamie was grateful for her scholarship. She would have still gone to college, but she preferred not to be upside down in debt after she graduated. She had gotten decent grades in high school, but she hadn’t done well enough for a full ride. A sports scholarship was a blessing.

Volleyball had been more of a hobby, to begin with. When she was in middle school, she’d been invited to a summer youth camp, called Falls Creek. There had been a sand volleyball tournament every week, being tall for her age, the other campers wanted her to join. She’d been reluctant at first, but by the end of the week, she’d fallen in love with the game.

Unfortunately, her middle school hadn’t had a volleyball team, so she hadn’t been able to play as often as she would’ve liked. She had been able to talk the youth minister into building a sand volleyball court at the church and playing the occasional game, but she’d had to wait for high school to join a team. By the time she started high school, she’d sprouted to six feet tall. With her height and experience, she’d made the varsity team as a sophomore.

She still wasn’t much into the whole church thing, but she had continued to go to the camp through high school, mostly for the volleyball. She’d even considered being a sponsor for the last couple of years.

Church camp had also introduced her to another of her passions. From exploring the areas around Falls Creek and Turner Falls while at the camp, Jamie had fallen in love with geology and paleontology. She’d learned that the area was unique; tens of millions of years of geologic history visible at a glance. Students from all around had been studying the different rock strata for decades.

As she slipped her shorts down toned legs, she heard her phone start to ring. Jamie slipped her shorts off and tossed them into the cubby. She reached for her bag, unzipped the side pocket, and pulled the phone out.

She brought the phone to her ear and answered, “Hello.”

“Jamie?” a female voice asked, “Jamie Long?”

“Yeah, this is Jamie,” she glanced at the caller ID, then asked, “Who’s this?”

“This is Cassie Byrne. I got your number from Professor Stone,” the voice responded.

“How can I help you, Cassie?” Jamie asked. She had no idea why the professor’s TA would call her.

“The professor wants you to meet with him in about an hour if you can.”

After a look at the time, Jamie responded, “I can do an hour. What’s this about?”

“I’m not sure, something about a cave. I just got a text telling me to invite you,” Cassie replied before asking, “Shall I tell him you’ll be there?”

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll be there,” Jamie replied.

“Good, see you then,” Cassie said, then hung up.

“Huh,” Jamie breathed, wondering what this was all about.


It was quiet in the library. The smell of old leather permeated the room, and the air conditioning made it comfortably cool. Jordan Adler sat at a small wood laminate table, a large white column in front of her. As she stroked the close-cropped edge of her pixie cut, she could feel the rough, gray Berber carpet beneath her bare feet. She studied the news story on her tablet. Jordan reread the heading of the article.

Mountain Lion Attack?

Saturday morning, the small community of Welling, Oklahoma was rocked with the news of an animal attack. Three students attending the nearby Northeastern University and a friend were killed in an apparent animal attack.

Hannah Maitland (age 19), June Moon (age 20), James Epps (age 22) and Steve Pascall (age 28) were camping together with Pascall’s young son, and brother (Sam age 21).

“The poor boy saw it all,” says a source in the sheriff’s office. “It appears Ms. Moon and her boyfriend (Sam Pascall) were away from the camp when the attack began.”

Jordan straightened the sleeve of her t-shirt. The white material smooth between her fingers. She skipped down to the part that had sparked her interest again.

“The boy was so scared, traumatized in truth, he claims it was not a mountain lion, but some kind of monster,” officials say. “The boy’s uncle (Sam Pascall) did not actually see the attack. However, the Oklahoma Department of Wildlife Conservation admitted that it was likely a mountain lion.”

Poor kid, she mused.

Jordan tapped the power button to put the tablet to sleep and moved it to the side of the table. She focused her attention back on her book. She had to read three chapters by Monday. It had to be the most boring novel she’d ever read. Why had she decided to take British Lit?

She remembered the first time Grandpa Joe had taken her along her parent’s property in search of arrowheads, she’d been six. He’d told Jordan that Indians had lived here for many thousands of years. Grandpa Joe used to tell her stories about Native American myths. Many of them had evil spirits that harmed people.

The tales of skin changers, switching back and forth between man and beast, used to freak her out. For a while, even the family livestock had frightened her. She wouldn’t go near any of the animals. Grandpa Joe had reassured her that the animals were exactly what they seemed. He’d told her that if skin changers had ever existed, the magic had been lost long before he’d been born, else he would have turned himself into an eagle and flown away.

Jordan’s mother always said, when Grandpa Joe came into their lives it had been a blessing, Jordan tended to agree. She loved her Grandpa Joe. Jordan’s biological grandfather had skipped out on his family after her mother was born. Her grandmother had met and married Joe not long after. He had helped raise Jordan’s mother and her Uncle Lewis.

Grampa Joe appeared to be a full blood Indian. She knew he was part Cherokee, but Jordan never could get him to tell her what other tribes he belonged to. He would say he was half Osage, half Chickasaw or else half Choctaw, half Comanche, or one of a dozen other tribes. She had asked her grandmother about it once and had been told Grandpa Joe wasn’t sure. The only thing he was sure of was that his mother had been half Cherokee.

A sudden ring startled her; she’d forgotten to put her phone on silent. Jordan reached into her pocket and snatched her phone. She slid her thumb across the touch screen as she extracted the phone to connect the call.

As she brought the phone to her ear, Jordan peered around to see if anyone had been disturbed. “Hello,” she whispered.

“Is this a bad time,” she heard a man say. Jordan glanced at the caller ID. Professor Stone, her favorite teacher.

“No, I’m in the library,” she murmured, “just a second.” Jordan slipped the tablet into her bag. She slid her feet into the flip-flops under the table. Jordan stood and hefted her bag over her shoulder. On her way to the exit, Jordan dropped her book on the return cart. She’d just have to try again later.

“Hey professor, what’s going on?” she asked as she left the library.

“I have a project you might be interested in.”

“Oh?” she asked excitedly. “What is it?”

“I’m planning to do a survey of some caves nearby. Come to my office in an hour and we’ll talk about it more,” he replied.

“Ok, I’ll be there,” she answered with a glance at her watch. She hadn’t had many opportunities to do real archaeological work. She was excited.


Professor Theodore Stone sat, at his L-shaped desk, and rested his ample girth in the comfortable office chair. He gazed solemnly at the framed picture of his family that sat on his desk. Stone stood next to his beautiful wife as she held their young daughter in her arms. It was the last photo he had of his family. His wife had died in a car wreck three months later, leaving him to raise a little girl on his own. It hadn’t been easy at times, but so far, he thought he’d done a good job.

Behind him, along the length of the wall, stood a floor to ceiling bookshelf. The shelves were overflowing with books. On the floor in front of the bookshelf were stacks of books piled waist-high at the outer edges. On one shelf were a few books he’d gotten published, they weren’t exactly bestsellers, but he hadn’t embarrassed himself either.

As Stone studied the list of names on his desk, he attempted to decide who else to take on the expedition to the cave. He attempted to assemble a team that could work together. He was well aware of how stubborn academics could be, having spent his adult life in the profession. Stone also wanted to give some of his more promising students a chance to learn.

Cassie Byrne bustled into the office. “Hey professor, tell me more about this cave,” she said and plopped down into a seat in front of his desk. Stone was glad she had chosen to ask him to be her doctoral advisor. She was a gifted young woman. Smart, disciplined, ambitious, all admirable traits.

“We don’t know much. I got a call from the sheriff’s department not long ago,” Professor Stone stated. “Did you hear about the animal attack somewhere southeast near Lake Tenkiller?”

“Yeah,” she answered. “It’s so awful. I knew one student that died.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame.” Stone paused. “During the search, one team found some Native American artifacts in a cave.”

“Really?” She inquired, eyes widened a bit. “What kind? Do you know?”

“No.” Stone gave his head a slow shake. “The University asked me to put together a team to go take a look at them,” Stone continued. “I would like you and Henry Blake to join me, along with a few undergrads.”

“That sounds great, who did you have a mind?” she asked.

He glanced down and scanned his list once again, “I was thinking Jamie Long, Jordan Adler, and Michael Redfern. Did you get ahold of Ms. Long?”

She nodded. “Yeah, she’ll be here.”

“Good, thank you for that. What do you think?”

Cassie gave a slight shrug. “Jamie is an excellent student. Michael can be a little arrogant, but he is brilliant. I hardly know Jordan; Do you think she’s ready?”

“Do you know how we met?” Stone asked. When Cassie shook her head, he continued. “I was doing the college fair at the Tahlequah High School a few years ago. Up comes this young student with a box of arrowheads. She grew up on a farm along the river and was always exploring. She even had pictures and a map with the locations of some the sites marked.”

“Interesting,” Cassie replied, impressed.

There was a light knock, as the door creaked open.

Henry Blake stuck his head into the room. “Hey Doc,” he greeted as he leaned into the room. “You wanted to see me?”

“Henry, come in, come in.” Stone beamed as he rose out of his chair a bit and waved Henry inside. “Take a seat. Did you get my message?”

“Yeah, you said someone found a cave painting?” Henry asked, dropping into the chair beside Cassie.

“Indeed, it’s so exciting,” Professor Stone enthused. “In an isolated valley along the Illinois River, a sheriff’s deputy found a cave with some artifacts and at least one painting or carving. We’re not sure exactly what’s there. Lucky for us, the young man prudently chose not to disturb the site too much. The tribal council asked the university to plan a survey to evaluate the site.”

“You want me to come along?” Henry asked, interested.

“Yes, of course, Cassie has agreed to come along as well. We have some work to do to be ready by next Friday.


Jamison Roberts © 2019


Next Chapter: Chapter 7