Jackie sat staring at the computer screen, reading and rereading the "translation" that appeared out of nowhere Marco's first day looking through his parents' records. She had a slight scowl on her face, and repeatedly tapped her right index finger on the desk, next to the mouse.
Marco chuckled ... silently; partly to be polite, but mostly to not provoke her. When first they dated, and Marco attempted to make good on his pledge to get to know her better, he quickly learned that Jackie's chill demeanor was somewhat of a façade. Lowering the mask only in private, for a fair number of raucous arguments, it remained intact at least until he no longer communicated with her regularly. Over the past few days he had decided that, in the intervening years, she lost the need to put on the airs of a laid-back surfer chick, letting her full personality shine out.
A personality that included a temper.
"So," Jackie began frostily, her tone figuratively lowering the temperature in the room by a few degrees, "when were you planning on telling me about this."
Marco was taken aback. "Um, never."
"Why?" Jackie growled.
"What do you mean, 'why?'"
"It's a pretty simple question, Marco."
"I don't understand; how is it important?"
"You don't see how a translation such as this is important?"
"Translation? That's not a translation. That's ... 'sleep typing.' It's not real."
Jackie's comportment immediately softened. "Okay, I can see how you'd view it that way. But do you still think so, given this 'Blood Moon' inscription we just found?"
Marco did not fail to notice Jackie's use of "we." He thought for a few seconds, then replied, "Yes. It's a 'translation' of an inscription in primum runes, correct?" Jackie nodded. "And nobody, not even my parents, have ever been able to translate them?" Jackie again nodded. "Then how the hell could I have translated them, asleep or awake? What else could it be but a coincidence? I saw a blood moon the night I was shot; to use your favorite adjective for me, it was just my stupid mind playing stupid games and winning stupid prizes, based on a memory."
Jackie visibly winced at Marco apparently having taken her "stupid" accusations to heart. "And the fact that both also speak of bound souls?"
Marco shrugged.
"Only yours includes the bit about 667 years, and is much more poetic, so maybe it is just a coincidence, but, man, it's one hell of a strange coincidence." Jackie glanced at Marco. "But then, things sure have been strange with you."
Marco really didn't feel like going there at the moment. He sighed, leaned back in his chair, stretched and yawned. "Maybe we both need a break." Marco thought for a few seconds. "I think I need more than a few minutes break. Let's bag it for today, then how about tomorrow we do something fun. Pick you up noonish?"
"Sounds like a plan."
— OoOoO — O — OoOoO —
The next day, Marco stood at the door in front of Jackie's house, now officially hers since her father's passing. He knocked, then after a small wait Jackie opened the door.
Jackie wore a light blue, sleeveless, summer dress. Getting a good look at Marco, she chuckled and said, "Wow. You look so ... fancy."
Marco had blown his hair into a neat coif brushed back from his forehead, was wearing a blazer with a gray shirt and jeans, and, weirdly, had chosen to put on a blue bow tie.
"Is fancy not okay?" Marco asked.
"Dude! That's too much just for having fun!"
"Okay, okay. Yeesh." Marco ran his fingers through his hair to move it into an approximation of his usual 'do, then removed the blazer and tie. "I have some shorts in the car."
After Marco changed his pants and was pulling out of the driveway in his car, now officially his since his parents' passing, Jackie asked him, "Where are we going?"
"I seem to recall you enjoyed going to the Echo Creek Pier."
"What? You never picked up on when I wanted to go there. You were terrible at the 'mind-reading game.'"
"Just because I couldn't read your mind doesn't mean I didn't notice things you enjoyed. Although, I admit I did a lousy job applying that knowledge. I never did guess right, even when you were pointing at your seashell necklace."
"Yeah ... kinda dumb," Jackie quipped, clearly having forgotten feeling guilty for calling Marco stupid.
After a short drive later, the two walked through the entrance of the seaside carnival-like attraction.
"What shall we do first?" Marco asked.
Jackie quickly looked around, her eyes halting on one of the many carnival games. She walked over, asking, "How about I win you this cute mermaid?" She pointed at a bank of huge stuffed mermaids with yellow hair sporting a green streak.
"Yeah, these things kinda look like you."
Jackie pulled a wad of bills out of her purse, handing a few over to the booth attendant, saying, "One dozen balls, please." Taking the box of balls, she made short work of the game, quickly scoring twelve out of twelve balls into the cups arrayed at the back of the stand.
"Grand prize for the gentleman," the barker said, handing a stuffed mermaid, nearly half Marco's size, to him.
"Let me try," Marco said, handing more bills to the attendant. He also made short work of the game, also winning the grand prize. He chose a huge stuffed dog in a karate outfit, which the man handed to Jackie.
"Sweet!" Jackie exclaimed. "This prize looks like you. This is the best day of my life!"
"It is not," Marco said.
Jackie laughed. "Say, you were good at karate, and if I remember correctly, even did a little dancing," Marco nodded, "but you were never really good at anything else even remotely sports related, so it's amazing to see you make such short work of that ball game. No offense."
"Only a little taken."
Jackie laughed again.
"I'm glad I amuse you so much."
As they began walking down the pier, Jackie looked at Marco with a wry grin. "You do amuse me; you always knew how to make me laugh. But that skill you just showed didn't come out of nowhere. I bet no matter where it comes from, it was the result of you refusing to give up until you got it right."
"I suppose..."
"Do you remember me telling you, on our first date, what I liked about you?"
"Of course I do."
"I told you that what I liked was 'that even after a humiliating, crushing, defeat, you just pick yourself right back up and you hop right back on.'"
"Oh, wow, I remember it entirely differ... you know what, never mind." Marco chuckled nervously.
Jackie laughed. "And you're still adorable when you laugh at yourself." Both Jackie and Marco blushed. "Anyhoo, that's all served you well as an adult, hasn't it? I mean, no matter how many men under your command you killed ..."
"Jackie..."
"... you didn't quit, you went right on in command, doing what you had to, and doing it well. Regrets, perhaps, but no hesitation making the hard decisions, afterwards. Right?"
"Right. Well, that last part anyway."
Jackie leaned hard into Marco's shoulder, as a gesture of comfort and affirmation. She managed to almost knock both of them off their feet, thanks to being off kilter from carrying the large stuffed toys.
Later, the two leaned against a pier railing, each holding a big puff of cotton candy, sans their prizes. Tired of lugging around the monstrosities, they had given them to a cute teenage couple, to the annoyance of their parents who were chaperoning the date and got stuck with carrying the gifts.
"Can you believe it's been fifteen years since we dated?" Marco asked.
"No ... well, maybe," Jackie answered, "but it feels weird, like at this point we should be an old married couple, but aren't." Jackie briefly scowled, in thought. "I'm not sure how much we really dated, though. You still spent a lot of time playing fantasy games, reading comic books, and watching sci-fi, with Janna, Alfonzo and Ferguson. In fact, I seem to recall a few of our ... disagreements were about that. Janna tried to get me into that stuff too ..." Jackie paused, thinking. "I never thought about 'why' before, maybe it was to help you and me out, but I was too focused on sports. After I retired from pro 'boarding I needed new activities and I remembered how much you guys enjoyed those things, so I got into them then. Casually, I guess you could say, not deep into them like you guys were."
"It might have seemed like we did that a lot, but Janna kind of faded out of my life after we started dating and never came back, even after we broke up."
"Yeah, same, we didn't spend as much time together as we had before you and I became a couple. Maybe she was giving us our space, I dunno, she never said why." Jackie rubbed her chin, thoughtfully. "After you left, she stopped hanging with me altogether, so maybe something else was going on." Jackie regretfully looked down at the boardwalk ... which was bad timing, as she failed to see the seagull that chose that moment to make its successful attempt at stealing her candy. She shook her fist at the bird, exclaiming, "Hey, what, no, awwww."
Marco held out his candy. "Here, have some of mine."
"Aw, thanks." Jackie grabbed a bit of sugar fluff, stuffing it in her mouth. Talking with her mouth full, she said, "That's amazing of you." After swallowing, she made a face, then, shuddering, said, "Swee-e-eet. Ugh. Can't tolerate sugar like I used to. I guess we are getting old." Jackie's stomach rumbled. "I think what I really could go for is some normal food."
"My treat," Marco said.
"You sure? I've heard the military doesn't pay too well."
Marco shrugged. "It's a calling, you don't do it for the money." Marco paused. "At least, I didn't. But I'm not hurting for funds."
Much later, Marco and Jackie lounged in their chairs, in food stupors, in one of the pier's few semi-fancy, sit-down, restaurants.
"Whew, wow, I haven't pigged out like that in years," Marco sighed.
"Same. Say, I hope you don't mind my asking, but if the military doesn't pay well, how are you not hurting for cash?" Jackie bugged her eyes out. "Wait, don't tell me, your military career was a cover for your real job as a highly-paid international vigilante for hire!"
"I can neither confirm nor deny that," Marco replied in a serious tone, cocking one eyebrow, eliciting a laugh. "The official story is that it's from royalty payments to my parents that the company decided to continue paying to me. Mom and dad also made good investments with some of that money, which I've inherited. I haven't added it all up yet, but I think it's fair to say I'm quite well off, even for California."
"Mmmmm, you just got a lot more interesting," Jackie purred, seductively.
Marco laughed, knowing she was being playful ... possibly partially honest, but at least mostly playful. "What about you? That's a big wad of cash you've been flashing for someone who just paid for graduate school and doesn't have a job."
"Grad school was paid for by being a graduate assistant, and various other odd jobs for the university. For living expenses and everything else ... well, I did win money pro skateboarding. Not a huge amount, but it wasn't chicken-feed, either. I also had a regional sponsorship deal for a couple years while 'boarding, that brought in even more dough than my winnings. I invested it all, and am able to live well just on the returns, even in California."
"Very cool. So ... is there anything on the menu we haven't ordered yet?"
"There's that guy," Jackie responded, pointing at a lobster in the restaurant's lobster tank.
"Aw, I can't eat him, he looks so sad." Marco paused a few seconds, then said, "No, that doesn't make me a wuss."
"I didn't say it did," Jackie said, confused. She noticed Marco was not looking at her, but at his reflection in the tank glass. "In any case, I think I know how to make the little mud-bug happy." Jackie stood, carried her chair to the tank, climbed up on it, then suddenly dipped both arms to her pits into the water, scooping up the lobster. She jumped to the floor, yelling at Marco, "Run!"
Marco vaulted from his chair, running after Jackie, as the maître d' cried, "Hey! Get back here!"
Marco quickly caught up to Jackie, the pair running to the end of a pier. Tossed into the water, the lobster quickly disappeared.
"Wow," Marco said, "he didn't even say good-bye. Not even a little claw wave or something."
"Dude, it's a lobster."
The pair leaned on the railing, watching the sun set.
"What are you thinking about?" Marco eventually asked.
"Lobsters," Jackie replied. "We saved one, but we could have saved them all."
"Do you want to go back for them?"
"I kinda do, though." Jackie pumped her fist, yelling, "Freedom to lobsters! Death to fancy restaurants!"
"We are not going back there to grab the maître d', slit his throat, and toss him after the lobster."
Jackie was taken aback. "I didn't suggest anything remotely like that."
"Yes, you did, I heard you."
Jackie looked at Marco sidelong. She thought he could have just misinterpreted what she said, but decided not. Jackie turned, walked over to a bench, then sat. Patting beside her, she said, "Let's talk."
Marco caught Jackie's tone, and thought, Again? Already? He sat beside her, worried about where it was going to go this time.
"Look, I know I said I'd wait for you to talk, but I'm not so sure that's a good idea. You were clearly talking to someone else, twice in just a couple minutes."
"That's just not true."
"Dude ... Marco," Jackie said as she laid a hand on his, before continuing, pleadingly, "talk to me."
"There's nothing to talk about."
Jackie sighed. "Look, today was awesome, and it's really sweet that you're including me in your life again. But you're already forcing yourself to let me help with your parents, and if you're repressing or hiding some ... stuff ... just so I'll be happy, or because you're embarrassed, or some degree of both, then we'll both end up miserable. Hating each other, even. You do see that, right?"
In the glass of a nearby popcorn cart holding their reflections, Marco distinctly saw the mystery woman standing behind himself and Jackie. He knew better than to see if she was really there.
"There's nothing to talk about," Marco obstinately repeated.
"Oh, Marco, we both know that's not true."
Marco remained silent. Jackie watched him carefully. She decided he was not going to bend.
Sighing again, she said, "Okay, look, I said I'd be there for you, and I meant it. But I also meant what I just said about there being consequences. If there's something going on, promise me that if I can't help, you'll talk to someone who can?"
Marco still was silent, looking down and away. Jackie cupped Marco's cheek, turning his head toward her. She engaged his eyes, saying, "Promise me, Marco."
After only a second or two, Marco answered, "I promise." He meant it.
Jackie smiled, releasing Marco's face. They both turned toward the ocean, watching as twilight turned into night. Jackie rested her head on Marco's shoulder, who, without even thinking, rested his on hers.
Finally, Marco said, "We should probably go back to the restaurant and pay our bill. I'm surprised they haven't sent the cops after us..."
— OoOoO — O — OoOoO —
After driving Jackie home, Marco returned to his own home. Thinking he'd pick up his research again, he instead quickly realized he would soon fall into a food coma, so went to bed.
Several hours later Marco found himself in a tavern, but one like he'd seen only drawings of in history books. To say it was rustic was putting it mildly.
There were plenty of conversations going on, but Marco could understand none of them as they were muted and distorted. He wasn't certain he would have understood them in any case, as no one was close by; the other patrons were giving him a wide berth. He wasn't certain why, but thought it might be because of the very nasty looking soldiers at either end of the bar he was standing in the middle of, and the scabbarded sword he could feel pressing against his leg.
Finally, after a few rounds, another patron of the establishment approached Marco. Her features were fuzzy and distorted, and he could not understand what she said. Bizarrely, he could not understand what he was saying, either, despite carrying on a conversation with the woman.
But despite all the distortion in speech and appearance, the feeling of attraction Marco felt was very clear.
Soon, Marco and the woman stepped outside, the soldiers following. He looked up to see an otherworldly sky of clouds tinged orange in front of multiple moons. He jumped as he felt a hand squeeze his ass, and when he looked down from the sky, he caught his reflection in the glass of the tavern's front window. He was actually a young woman in her late twenties, wearing a crown sporting what looked like two devil horns, with long blonde hair and pink heart tattoos on her cheeks.
Marco violently sat up in bed, exclaiming, "Oh, my god! We forgot to add the lobster to our bill!" He then flopped back down onto the bed, returning to sleep, dreamless for the rest of the night.
— OoOoO — O — OoOoO —
Marco awoke the next morning, refreshed and happy with the memory of the prior day ... and no memory of the dream. He did a few chores, popped down to the local Stop & Slurp for a few overpriced groceries, then settled behind the computer screen.
Marco worked to find out what he could about Arthur Harrow. He found only one Arthur Harrow with a background even remotely close to what could make him a possibility, and terming it as "remotely close" was being generous.
That Harrow was a PhD that had been nominated for the Nobel Prize in medicine for his work in pain theory. The nomination was withdrawn and his research discredited when it was discovered he was continuing the work of "scientists" that had experimented on prisoners at Auschwitz-Birkenau during World War II. He had disappeared for thirty years after his lab in the Yucatan was raided by operatives of MI6, eventually turning up in a hospice where he died of complications from trigeminal neuralgia and old age. He'd died several years prior to an Arthur Harrow funding his parents' work, so clearly wasn't the one Marco was looking for, even without taking into consideration the lack of ties to history or archaeology. There didn't seem to be a trust or foundation for the man that could have been the source of interest and money, either.
For all his blubbering and complaining, Mac had jumped on Marco's request and already had results from working official and unofficial government channels. Prior to exclusively funding the Spectors' work, an Arthur Harrow had funded many researchers, all digging in ancient ruins where primum runes were found. Most of the funding was "unofficial," done through donations rather than sponsorships. In the few cases where there was more documentation, it was typically notes on where the money came from without details about the man himself. Mac had found nothing else of use.
It worried Marco greatly that, in the great information age, they could find no likely candidate to be the Arthur Harrow he was looking for.
In the files, Marco found the last several pages of the contract his parents had signed for the funding of their digs. What was there seemed pretty straightforward, and in line with what Donna had described. It was signed on behalf of Arthur Harrow, rather than by the man himself, and the contact information, a single phone number, was no longer in service. It matched a number Mac had found, for a "burner" cell phone. There were no further clues to who had signed on Harrow's behalf, the signature simply, "Arthur Harrow, by his agent." Marco wondered if, lacking the name of the agent, the contract was even legal.
The fact that it was only the last few pages of the contract was odd as well. Marco wondered if maybe he would find the complete document on one of the drives.
The damn drives. Marco was pretty good, but breaking the encryption would take forever without sufficient computing power. Computing power owned by a government, for example. He decided he'd take another swing at guessing passwords, with the help of Jackie, before he enlisted Mac's help. Marco was concerned about Mac's mental health, the way he seemed to have a nervous tic and was prone to burst into tears, every time Marco asked something of him. Marco wondered why, but couldn't think of any reason. Mac never got caught snooping around, and the penalties if he did get caught were typically only a few years in the Naval Brig Miramar; he doubted Mac would be executed for espionage.
Marco leaned back in his chair and sighed, staring at his murder boards that he still had been unable to add to. Absent whatever was on the drives, the information he did have seemed the typical stuff accumulated by field researchers. As expected after speaking to Donna, most of the work focused on sites where primum runes had been found along with moon-god imagery ... which seemed to be practically every site on the planet. His parents had participated in digs at multiple sites, but nowhere near the number of sites that existed. He wondered if that was a significant fact.
Marco had also found nothing that could dissuade him and Jackie from their belief that his mother had been completely unsuccessful translating primum runes.
Until the drives were decrypted, and possibly not even then, Marco'd have to hope he and Jackie would find some clue or pattern in the data and documents on the computer.
Marco ground his teeth and made a face. Despite his innate curiosity and eye for details, he had never gotten used to the tedium of research. He always preferred field work over office work, even though it required the same exactitude and care. Marco absent-mindedly rubbed his arm ... he had told his ex-CO that after looking through his parents' research he would go to South Dakota and the site of the massacre. Perhaps it was time to do just that.
Marco picked up his phone, dialing the number of his partner in crime. He smiled at the thought of Jackie being a criminal. When she finally answered, Marco asked, "Hey, Jackie, up for a road trip? ... What do you mean, 'who is this?'"
Marco and Jackie quickly hashed out the details. After hanging up, he mused, "At last, some real action. We'll hunt down those who usurped my throne and put them to the sword!"
Marco paused a few seconds, said, "What?" then shook his head. He again leaned back, his mind returning to the issue of both he and Jackie needing computers. He thought for a long few minutes, then decided it would be nice if both had laptops, connected to a central server, to facilitate researching in parallel. He worried, though, about the laptops or server being stolen, the machines or network connections being hacked, or some combination of any of those.
Picking up his other phone, Marco made the requisite call, his reluctance to again engage Mac forgotten. "Hey, Mac ... wait ... no ... stop screaming for a second!"
Seventy-two hours later, Marco and Jackie were hunched close together at the rear of an airliner, both looking at the screens of their brand-new, government hardened and encrypted laptops, with deep-encrypted network connection back to their new black-ops server at home. Marco felt much more apprehension about the trip than expected, as if he was feeling two people's worth of anxiety; he also noted the facial expression of the female apparition was one of unease. He brushed any concerns off, deciding it was just due to being worried about Mac's mental health, given the degree of facial and body tics he exhibited while providing all the secure equipment and connections.