D.C. Story, Prologue

I don't have a good title for this story yet. I haven't been able to come up with one yet. This story is still in a rough draft form and it is intended to be the prologue chapter to a much longer, novel length story. Let me know what you think, and be as brutal as you can. I want to know what you really think of it. The spaces between sections are scene changes.

On a calm morning in April, a charter bus carrying the students from two California high schools stopped in front of The National Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C. The students’ tour guide, complete with a pink umbrella, stepped off the bus into the bright sun. She lifted the umbrella above her head signaling to the students to huddle around her, as if it were a battle standard for troops to rally under.
The chaperones were the last to get off the bus and quickly counted their students. After checking that no one had wandered off, the tallest of the chaperons, one of the teachers, strode to the front of the groups.
“This is the Air and Space Museum behind me. On this side of the The Mall there is also the Museum of Modern Art. On the far side,” he said as he points with his outstretched hands, “is the Museum of Natural History.”
Most of the students’ heads were twisted around to make a mental note of where he was pointing when the chaperon continued, “We will be having lunch now in the cafeteria of the Air and Space Museum. After that, you will have until 4:30 this afternoon to explore any of the Smithsonian Museums here at the Mall. At that time, we will meet where we are standing now. Any questions?”
“Yeah, can we eat yet?” a stocky student muttered under his breath, eliciting half-hearted chuckles from some of his students standing near him.
“Any important questions?” the teacher asked, ignoring the impatience of the boy. “All right. Follow Ms. Bertram and her pink umbrella to the cafeteria.”
The tour guide marched off towards the entrance of the museum as the students, in small pairs and trios, straggled after her.

On the coast of Cornwall, in the southwest of England, a segmented line of travelers and tourists snaked down the narrow path leading to the ruins of Tintagel Castle. Towards the back of the single file line strode a young woman, her braided, blonde hair shining in the sunlight. Her slate grey eyes were constantly shifting between the treacherous path her feet had to navigate and the scenic panorama before her.
“This is Arthur’s castle, Tintagel, and is reputed to have been impregnable when the walls were still standing. It’s a shame that all that’s left is this group of ruins now,” the girl’s companion said. He was a tall lad with brown hair and emerald green eyes. Slung on his back was a hiker’s pack identical to hers. It was obvious that he was more interested in the ruins than she was; his enthusiasm was visible.
“Isn’t this where Arthur’s father tricked his mother into sleeping with him while he had her husband murdered?” she asked.
“Depends on which version of the legends you read,” he replied as they picked their way step by step down the path heading towards the ruins.

In the heart of London, a stout, broad-shouldered man stuffed his arms into a leather jacket. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes surveyed the flat he rented, checking to see if he had forgotten anything.
After a second or two, he dropped his saddlebags over his shoulder and left, locking the door behind him. He strapped the bags in place on his Harley and mounted the bike.
He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life, announcing to the whole street that he was leaving. He glanced over his shoulder to check for oncoming traffic and seeing none, sped away from the center of London and towards Salisbury Plain.

The tall chaperone stood out from the crowd of students in the Museum cafeteria in two distinct ways. The first was his height. At over six feet tall, he had at least a foot of height more than his average student. The second thing was his pale skin and fiery red hair. Amid all of the dark clothing and features he was never inconspicuous, which sometimes helped him, as it did now.
“All right students. When I am done talking you will line up for your meal voucher and we will get lunch. When you are done eating, you are then free to explore the Museums. Any questions?” He paused, waiting for answers. “No, then line up.”
The hungry students milled and squeezed themselves into a single file line and lunch began.

In the far north of England, in the Lake District, a woman hiked along the ruins of Hadrian’s Wall. That wall had once been the northernmost boundary of the Roman Empire, and had been built to keep the barbaric northerners at bay. She stopped to re-tuck her denim pants into the top of her hiking boot, to help keep bugs and plant out of her socks and off her legs.
Every few yards she would shift the straps of her pack into a more comfortable position as she stopped to admire the sections of wall.
“What magnificent and timeless architecture,” she thought to herself. “It has lasted for
centuries and here I am, who may not even last for one.”
She shook her head to help her re-focus on why she was here. She kept moving down the stretch of wall, pausing every so often to admire the most beautiful and rugged landscape she had ever seen.

Far to the south, a young man wandered through the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey, reputedly the burial site of King Arthur. The abbey buildings were in ruins, and the monks had long since left. It was now a site of great historical value. The boy wandered the grounds, admiring the parts of the Abbey that had withstood Time and Man, while cursing, under his breath, Henry VIII for its destruction.
As his pale blue eyes fell on a wooden sign on the south side of Lady Chapel, he stopped dead in his tracks. His breath caught in his throat as he read the sign, which marked the last resting place of King Arthur and his queen, Guinevere.
He bowed his head in solemn respect for the loss of a man he had never known in life, but had come to know so well through myth and legend. His long brown hair fell, obscuring the tears that dripped down his face without a sound.
After several mournful minutes, the young man palmed his eyes drying the tears and erasing any trace of them from his face. Looking up, he realized that he had missed exploring the rest of his ruins in his urgency to find the Pendragon’s grave.
He began to wander off, his thoughts still behind him, pondering the monument he had found. He was so engrossed in thought that his mind didn’t register that, out of his peripheral vision, he saw a knight clad in pitch black armor with flame red eyes watching him.

Traffic in London at this time of day wasn’t as bad as it could be, he decided. At least he was on a motorcycle, which could weave through the congested street more often than the average car-bound traveler. The congestion eased up the closer he came to the edge of the city and soon he was speeding down the highway.

“Heather, why don’t we go down to Castle Beach and go swimming for a while?” the boy asked his companion.
“I don’t want to take you away from enjoying Tintagel Castle,” she responded as they paused among the ruins.
“Honey, this vacation isn’t just about what I want, you know. Besides,” he added with a wink, “while we’re down there we can explore Merlin’s Cave.”
“All right,” she decided after a few moments, “This heat was starting to get to me anyways. That water is crystal clear and looks very refreshing.”
They strode towards the edge of the ruins, where the stair down to the beach met the ruins and began to descend to the beach.

At Stonehenge, on the Salisbury Plain, a team of archaeologists was in the process of completing a painstaking and ponderous excavation. Their goal was to uncover whatever may be underneath the gigantic stones, while still preserving the aboveground structure exactly as they found it.
Two of the researchers in the excavation grid stood and stretched their stiff backs.
“Time’s up on our shift. Want to go get something to eat Kelli?” the man asked the woman standing next to him.
Her short black hair shook as she turned to look at him before replying, “I’m famished. Food sounds wonderful. Any ideas?”
The man smiled wide, hazel eyes twinkling, as he said, “I think I have just the thing we need. Shall we?”
“Lead the way.”
They climbed out of the pit and headed towards the command tent to clock out.

Two boys left the cafeteria in Washington D.C. while most of their peers were still eating. They headed straight for the entrance of the Museum, according to their prearranged plan to avoid the rest of their group by heading to a completely different museum. They didn’t like large crowds and didn’t have many friends in school, which is why they avoided people together. The two boys had a quiet camaraderie.
As soon as they were out the door, they headed across the Mall towards the Museum of Natural History.

Back in the north of England, Elisa set her pack on the ground at her feet as she sat on a flat rock to catch her breath. Out of her pack she pulled a bottle of chilled water and a sketchpad. She took a quick drink before setting the bottle at her feet.
Elisa let her mind wander as she gazed at the rugged, green hills of the Lake District. The dogged beauty and survival of the surrounding countryside only added to the aged strength of the wall’s ruins. After all, Hadrian’s Wall had survived in this country.
“I have to focus on why I’m here,” she thought as she opened her sketchbook. She pulled a pencil out of a case in her backpack and tried to capture the essence of her surroundings on paper.

The two archaeologists were now hiking across the Salisbury Plain, headed away from Stonehenge. In their hands they carried a picnic basket and a large flannel blanket.
“Just a little farther away from the site and then we’ll eat lunch,” the man said as he scanned the area for a suitable rest stop. “Ah, over there in the shade of that oak should be perfect.”
He led the way over to the ancient oak tree. He handed the picnic basket to his lady companion and began to spread the blanket on the ground.
“Kelli, here we are. Are you hungry?”
“Famished. Whatever is in that basket, the smell has been arousing my appetite for meter,” she replied as he helped her get comfortably seated.
“Good. I hope you enjoy what I brought for lunch,” he said while he began to unpack the basket.
Kelli’s eyes widened as she saw the amount of food that had been brought for lunch.
“John, how long were you planning this picnic?” she asked.
“For close to a month, honestly. I wanted to show you how much I enjoy your friendship,” he explained as he looked inside the basket, checking to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.
He continued, “Now, for lunch, we have prosciutto, smoked salmon, brie, and a bottle of Riesling.” He listed everything and pointed to it, and soon they were heartily enjoying their lunch.

The young man continued to wander through the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey admiring the silent ruins and the echoes of the past that seemed trapped in the stone. He wondered what it would have been like in the previous centuries.
“How magnificent this abbey must have been then,” he mused.
Still, the man in pitch black armor watched unnoticed by the boy.

“What beautiful countryside this is,” he thought as he sped down the highway. The green meadows, parks, and estates stretched out on either side as he traveled on his motorcycle.

The boys moved through the Museum of Natural History, staring at the exhibits and placards as they tried to absorb everything they saw. A young girl with long auburn hair passed behind them. She stopped and stared back at the two boys for several moments, before she spoke.
“Alan, is that you?” she asked.
On of the boys turned towards her with a puzzled look on his face, as if he was trying to remember something he had forgotten. His brow furrowed in confusion.
“Do I…know you…wait! Is that you Lauren?” he asked, almost shouting in the quiet museum.
“Alan, it is you!” she cried. “I haven’t seen you since I moved out here three years ago. What are you doing on the East Coast?” she said, her eyes gleaming with pleasure at seeing her lost friend.
“I can’t believe it, Lauren. I’m here on a school trip during Spring Break. Today, we get to explore the Smithsonian Museums that surround the mall before we have to meet again for dinner. What are you doing here?” he said smiling at her.
Seeing him smile at her caused he to shift from one foot to the other as she hooked her hair behind her almost imperceptibly pointed ears. Alan was the only person who had ever noticed, and he had said that it reminded him of the ancient and wondrous beauty of Tolkien’s elves. She blushed at the thought now.
“I came to enjoy the Museums,” she said, finding her voice, “I have a day off from school today and our home isn’t too far from here.”
“How about you and I spend the rest of my time here exploring the museums together?” Alan asked. “I would love to hear what you have been up to since you moved.”
Her smiled widened as the two of them talked quietly about old times and new, as they began to stroll through the museum’s halls.

Elisa looked up from her sketch and compared it to the landscape she was drawing.
“It seems like something is missing,” she thought, “Like the land is hiding something from me.”
She had the tall trees in the right places; she had captured the ruins of Hadrian’s Wall and the slopes of the hills in exact detail, in her opinion. The sun’s hazy rays peeking through the grey clouds and the resulting shadows, everything was in her sketch. Yet, something wasn’t quite right. She glanced repeatedly from the sketch to the landscape before her, trying to discern what that missing element was.

Alan and Lauren continued to chat with each other as they meandered through the Natural History Museum.
“What time is it, Lauren?” Alan asked, too lazy to fish in his backpack for his watch.
“12:40 P.M. Why?” she replied.
“Damn it! I have to meet the rest of the group at 3:30, which doesn’t leave us much time together. Plus, I haven’t seen any of the Air and Space Museum.”
“You haven’t?” she cried. “Then we have to go there. They have this piece of rock on display and they don’t know what it’s made of or where it came from. They found it buried ion England and they think its part of meteor, but they aren’t sure. I know you’ll like it, I remember how much you like rocks.”
She excitedly led him towards the exit of the museum by the arm. He had missed Lauren a lot and found her excitement infectious, in no small part due to the soft touch of her fingers bidding him to follow her.

“That lunch was amazing,” Kelli stated as she leaned back to rest on her elbows. “Thank you John.”
“You’re most welcome. It was my pleasure.”
He leaned back beside her and admired the countryside they were in, lush, rolling, green hills and trees, scattered about with hedges and rocks.
“This land is so…timeless,” he said as he struggled to capture his feeling in words. “I look around and I don’t see any remaindered of modern civilization anywhere. More than that, I don’t sense it looming beyond the horizon. It’s, I don’t know, peaceful here lik we could be in a different century.”
She looked at him while he was talking.
“You’ve been working too hard,” she joked. “Maybe you should apply for a vacation so you can relax more.”
He laughed at her suggestion.
“What, and not see your pretty face every day at work and be unable to enjoy your company?” he retorted. “I don’t think so.”
Her eyes widened in surprise as what he said sank in.
“What did you call me?” she asked after a few moments of silence.
“Pretty. That and a joy to be around. Why?”
“No reason. That’s just the kindest thing a man has ever said to me,” she replied.
“If that is the nicest thing a man has ever said to you, then you need to meet better men,” he said, only half-joking.
She smiled contentedly and turned her eyes again to the landscape surrounding them. John sat up and gazed at her for a few moments, as if searching for the words he needed to articulate what he was thinking.
“Kelli?” he said after a moments.
“Yes, John?”
He reached over and cupped her hand in his. He leaned over it and brushed the top of her hand with a soft, almost imperceptible, kiss. Looking into her eyes he said, “Kelli, I meant every word.”
She smiled from ear-to-ear. She had been waiting for him to make the first move, and now he had.

Heather and her boyfriend, Dave, continued to enjoy the beach beneath Tintagel castle. They had walked along the beach sand and had admired the ruins from below as Dave told her more about the legends surrounding the site.
Now they both floated on their backs in the cool, clear blue water.
“This is so refreshing and peaceful,” Heather stated.
“Maybe Merlin blessed it so that it remains pure and invigorating,” Dave quipped.
She rolled her eyes at him and continued to enjoy the water. Periodically, she glanced towards where their belongings sat on the shore, checking to make sure that it was still there.

The young man still strolled through the Glastonbury Abbey ruins, lost in his thoughts. He watched the historical re-enactments and learned what life would have been like in the days when the Abbey was still functioning.

“I should be about halfway to Stonehenge,” the man on the motorcycle thought. “That is, if I don’t run into anymore traffic problems,” he added.

Alan and Lauren wandered through the halls of the Air and Space Museum. Even though Lauren wanted Alan to see the strange rocks she had mentioned, he had managed to convince her to let him see the rest of the Museum as well. So, together they talked as they walked, discussing all of the fascinating exhibits they laid eyes on.

Across the Atlantic Ocean, clouds began to gather over England.

“The meteorite rock is over in this wing of the Museum,” Lauren directed. “Ready to go see it?”
“Sure thing,” Alan replied. “I think we’ve seen enough of the rest of the museum. Now, I want to see this rock that has you so excited.”
The two of them, led by Lauren, drew steadily closer to the rock.

“It’s getting rather cloudy, John. Should we pack up and go?” Kelli asked, looking up at the darkening sky.
“Not yet. We aren’t due back at the site for a while yet. Plus, those clouds aren’t rain clouds. It’s just getting overcast,” he reasoned.
“All right. If you say so…,” she teased.
They continued to talk as they admired the flowing, lush landscape.

“Did you see that?” Heather asked nervously.
“See what?” Dave replied, oblivious to the change in her mood.
“I though I saw a man watching us from the mouth of that cave over there,” she pointed to where she had seen the stranger.
“From Merlin’s Cave?” he asked. “It’s probably some nerd’s idea of a practical joke. Don’t worry about it,” he said as he stretched out on the water and continued floating.

“It’s in the next room after this one, Alan,” Lauren said, “We’re almost there.” Her excitement was visible.
“It’s just a rock,” Alan teased.
“I know,” Lauren said in a solemn tone, “For some reason, though, which I can’t explain, this rock always reminds me of you when I see it.”
Alan gazed at his friend beside him for a few seconds to see if she was serious. He decided that perhaps it would be best if he believed her right now.
“All right, let’s go see this rock,” he said.

Chug! Clunk! Sputter!
He pulled his motorcycle onto the side of the road as the engine stalled. He rolled to a stop and dismounted.
Mike knelt down next to his bike and surveyed the damage. It was repairable, he decided after several minutes, but not with anything he had with him.
“It’s getting rather cloudy,” he though. “I hope I don’t get stuck out in the rain.”
The road was empty of travelers and he was alone out on the plains of Salisbury.
“I’m not too far from Stonehenge. It should only be a kilometer or so, maybe I can catch a bus back into town from there…Wait!” he realized, “archaeologists are excavating Stonehenge. They must have a phone with them in case of emergencies.”
He began to stride down the road, a little more hopeful at the prospects of finding help now.

Elisa’s attention was interrupted long before she realized by what. She was still staring at her sketch of the surrounding countryside attempting to figure out what it was missing. She then realized what had invaded her thoughts; the sound of drums.
“Drums?” she wondered, “What are drums doing out here?”
Her ears perked up as she tried to pinpoint which direction the sound was coming from. After what seemed like eternity, she decided the sound was coming from the North, from the Scottish side of Hadrian’s Wall.

“There it is,” Lauren whispered, “on the far side of the room.” The respect she held for this mysterious object was evident. The size of the rock was apparent, even across a room that was filled with other magnificent exhibits.
Alan felt his steps being pulled towards the rock now by an invisible force that was impossible to resist.

“I thought you said that civilization wouldn’t intrude here,” Kelli stated.
“I did. Why?” John said, one eyebrow raised in question.
“Don’t you hear that?” she queried, “Listen. Very faintly I can hear what sounds like metal scraping and clanging together.”
They both strained their ears towards the distance, suddenly aware that something strange was happening.

Alan was now halfway across the color of the exhibit room, still being pulled towards the strange rock.

“Dave,” Heather called to her friend, anxiety apparent in her voice. The near panic pitch of her calling for him got his attention.
“What’s wrong, Heather?” he asked, as he waded over to where she stood.
“Tintagel Castle. There’s only ruins left of it, right?”
He was worried that she would ask such a silly question, when the answer was so obvious. What worried him even more was that she sounded very serious.
“Yes it’s just ruins, why?” he asked, as he gazed at her and up at the ruins in an attempt to figure out what was bothering her.
“All I can see is the castle. Not ruins, a full castle like it would have been before it was ruined.”
“That must just be your imagination, honey,” he said, trying to sooth her.
“No,” she demanded, “it won’t go away. I see the walls, and there are men in chainmail on them keeping watch.”
“There’s nothing there, Heather. I don’t see any of that,” he said, even more worried now.
“Then why won’t it go away?” she stammered.
Dave stared at her, not knowing what to say. He glanced at the ruins and then at her again, still unable to comfort her.

The boy in Glastonbury Abbey watched the dark clouds overhead and wondered if it was going to rain today. His attention drifted down to the immense walls of the Abbey, and again he admired the strength and endurance of the structures.
“Whoever built this,” he though, “built it to last. Not like buildings these days.”
As he finally brought his gaze down to the ground floor, he began to wander through the grounds. Without realizing it, his feet began taking him towards the grave marker near Lady Chapel. Only this time, as he rounded the corner of the chapel, he saw a man in pitch black armor gazing down at the grave sign. The boy assumed the man was just an elaborate piece of the re-enactment until the man turned around and gazed at the boy with eyes of fire.
The lad backed away as if he disturbed a bear, and began walking way as fast as he could.

“Only half a kilometer left,” he thought. “As soon as I get over this last hill, I should be at Stonehenge, and then I can see about getting my bike fixed.”
Mike continued trudging down the road, hoping he could find shelter before the storm comes.

Alan and Lauren were now only a dozen steps from the rock. They both felt the mystical allure it held over them. Without realizing it, they had joined hands as they walked, journeying together towards the unknown.

The drumming got louder, Elisa thought. She gathered all of her belongings into her pack. She stood up from where she was sitting in the shadow of the southern side Hadrian’s Wall. As she rose, she turned towards the North.
She forgot everything she was thinking in the shock of what she witnessed. Before her, thousands of naked men and women painted in woad and armed with axes, swords, and torches charged the wall amidst the clamoring of drums. Even after rubbing her eyes with the palm of her hands, they did not disappear.
As Elisa turned to run, she saw a second image that shattered any grip she had on reality. To the south of Hadrian’s Wall, she saw a Roman legion marching to reinforce the defense. She was caught in the middle of an impending battle.

“Look at that!” John shouted as he pointed to the landscape in front of them.
Kelli looked and saw something she would never be able to explain. Before their very eyes, two armies rose out of the ground of Salisbury Plain, the violent battle already joined. The metal clanging was louder now and it was obvious what had been causing it now.
“You see this too, right Kelli?” I’m not going crazy, am I?” John asked as he turned towards the woman on the blanket next to him.
“Not unless we both are,” she muttered.

Alan and Lauren now stood before the rock on its stand. They stared at the mysterious object, entranced.
“This is…indescribable, Lauren. I feel pulled to this rock, like a magnet of sorts,” he whispered.
“So do I,” she said.

The lad, Dan, wasn’t paying attention to where he was going. He was weaving through the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey, hoping that the strange thing he saw wasn’t following him.
Eventually, the realization that it had suddenly become lighter wormed its way into his consciousness. He stopped, stunned into silence. He stood in the Abbey and gazed around him.
“There’s a roof! And torches!” he though in wonder.
Then, he saw something that brought tears to his eyes. Before him, two rows of monks clad in white robes like those belonging to the angels lined either side of the central aisle leading up to the altar. They chanted in a forgotten language, but the intention was clear; they were singing a requiem mass. A black casket waited before the altar to hold the remains of the mass’s recipient.
“Where am I?” he wondered, “What is this?”
Before he could find an answer, one was given to him. The heavy oaken doors at the rear of the church groaned open. Dan turned to see six monks, clad in robes of the blackest night, carrying a dead King into the abbey. His royal lineage was obvious, from the exquisite craftwork of the armor and clothes he wore, to the ornate crown resting above his head.
All of a sudden, he realized who this king was. There was a sign on the south side of Lady Chapel proclaiming who was being laid to rest.

Together, Alan and Lauren reached for the rock and touched it at the same time. A flood images poured through their brains, too fast to hold onto, to recognize, or to remember.

As Mike crested the hill before Stonehenge, he heard a loud crash and he collapsed losing consciousness.

When he awoke an indeterminate time later, a dense fog was pouring onto the plains, and before him where Stonehenge should have been stood a large castle made of the blackest rock he had ever seen.
Unseen animals howled somewhere behind him and Mike began walking towards the castle, hoping safety and security from whatever was happening could be found there. As he walked, he noticed the fog closing in behind him preventing him from going anywhere besides the castle.
As he came to a stop before the castle walls, he noticed that the fog was only held back by a pair of torches, one on each side of the closed doors.
Soon others joined him before the gates: a young woman who appeared as if she had come from the beach, a young lad who stood open-mouthed as he stared at the castle walls, a woman wearing a hiker’s pack, and a young man and woman who appeared hand-in-hand.
“Where are we?” the man asked.
“On Salisbury Plain,” Mike responded.
“Impossible,” his female companion stated, “There are no castles like this on Salisbury Plain. The only thing we should be able to see is Stonehenge.”
“We’re roughly standing where Stonehenge used to be, miss,” Mike said. “After I my bike broke down, I was walking to the excavation to see if I could borrow a phone. This is what I found.”
Everyone looked at each other, more unnerved than they were before.

Some indefinable time later, the strangers heard more howling in the fog and darkness. Out of the mist stumbled a young man, carrying an unconscious girl in his arms. As he entered the ring of torchlight, the gates cracked open, pulled by some unseen power. Everyone looked at each other for what seemed like hours, and then, without speaking a word, they all walked through the gates and into the courtyard of this mysterious castle.