Chapter One
Doyle Chambers is just getting settled in to his new post, the site of one of the world’s most devastating terrorist acts.
It is the ruins of the largest man made dam in the Middle East. It was constructed nearly one-hundred years ago and has successfully held back the swollen river waters up until its demise three days earlier.
Terrorists blew up the dam knowing that the flood waters would wreak devastation to the hundreds of villages, cities and American Army and Air Force Bases that were settled in the valley below its towering arched wall.
Not only did this act kill thousands of innocent people, American service men and women and destroyed highly technical airplanes, the top of the dam’s imposing wall was used as a transport highway that connected two Continents.
This is the largest reconstruction project Chief Chambers has ever undertaken and as the last band of the Middle East’s highly sophisticated terrorists regroup, time is of the essence.
On this early morning Chambers is in his tent alone studying a variety of large blueprints that lay spread over several large tables in the tent of his headquarters. The maps and blueprints have been provided to him by the Pentagon for the dam’s reconstruction.
While studying the charts Doyle raises a lit wooden match to his pipe filled with a rich aromatic blend of Turkish tobacco. Rolling the smoke of his first puff around in his palate, he exhales with a subtle cough, as he looks up from his work to see the silhouette of Dr. Melanie Silkwood standing in the open canvas entrance of his tent.
The sun coming from behind Melanie somewhat blinds her image, but Doyle has no problem mistaking that he is about to meet a beautiful shapely woman dressed in a revealing open khakis blouse and rather short shorts of the same material.
There is a conspicuous moment of silence as initially the two size each other up. It’s obvious that both parties are a bit taken with the other.
Finally Melanie disrupts the void and strides toward the table that Chambers is standing behind and breaks the silence with, “Apparently the Antakya Valley had a superb harvest last fall.”
Uncertain of what she speaks; in his naturally deep voice, Doyle replies, “Excuse me ma'am?”
Melanie, now directly across the table from Doyle, places her palms down before her on the table’s top and leans toward Chambers, “I’m not a ma'am. I am Dr. Melanie K. Silkwood. I have been assigned to this valley by the joint, Chiefs of Staff for the United Nations Embassy. I am to work hand in hand with the engineers who are assigned to rebuild the dam.'
“It is the wish of our Embassy to assure the people of this region that such a tragedy of this proportion will never occur again.'
“ I am to play a duo roll linked to diplomacy beyond examining the geology of the area and the feasibility of rebuilding at this location. I have been mandated to insure that any archeological discoveries are preserved as not to violate the religion and culture of the native people.’
“Oh and you may be excused, the pipe tobacco that you smoke, Chief Chambers, was grown and harvested in the Antakya Valley in Turkey. Judging from its aroma, I’m certain that it was harvested and dried in the fall of last year.”
Chambers takes a deep drag off his pipe and turns to walk to his desk a few feet from the table, then exhales as he pulls out a chair affront of the desk. He motions to Ms. Silkwood to be seated. After she coolly obliges to be seated she crosses her legs, swinging her upper calf back and forth, as if inviting free a view.
Chambers seats himself behind his desk then places his pipe back to its rack. He looks Melanie straight in the eye and says, “Am I going to have problems with you?”
“Problems?” she replies.
The two sit and exchange a rather vapid momentary stare to each other, then Doyle continues, “What do you want from me?”
Silkwood answers, “That’s a fair question. What I want is your cooperation with a discovery that I made last evening while exploring the emptied river bed’s terrain for mineral deposits.’
“It would appear than when the dam exploded that the uncontrolled rushing waters it held at bay for nearly a century unearthed the very top of an ancient pyramid. According to my interpretation of its etched writings, this monument dates back to a period when the Greek and Egyptian civilizations were one.’
“ I’m certain that if I were left to further translate the monument’s ancient writings that we will discover how the civilizations came to part. With that answer in hand we will be able to reunite all of the regions of the Middle East once again as they were.’
“ This, my Chief of Operations, will be a larger find than the coveted Holy Arch itself. Unifying these regions socially will bring an end to terrorism as we know it today. It may also give us insight to how many other modern day cultures may exist in harmony. All we must do to obtain those answers is dig, dig, dig.’
Doyle realizes that he’s going to have his hands full with Ms. Silkwood. Being the wise individual that he is, he decides to yield to Melanie hoping she will be so preoccupied with her dig, that he can concentrate his efforts on the reconstruction assignment.
Melanie has no more than stated her case when Chambers rolls out with, “You’ve got it. Do as you wish and good luck.” “Thank you Chief Chambers, I thought you would understand the importance of such a matter.” Dr. Silkwood replies as she stands and walks in the direction of the tents entrance.
Chambers reaches for his pipe and tamps a fresh load of tobacco into its bowl as he watches the woman’s every curve swagger out the canvas entrance. Under his breath he mutters, “Son of a bitch, this woman is going to be a pain in my ass.”
The moment he lights his fresh load Melanie pops her head back into the tent. Doyle lifts his eyes toward his brow cautiously, fearing she may have just heard him call her a pain in the ass. Once again there is a bit of a silence before she asks, “ Chief Chambers, in the future may I address you as Doyle?” Chambers rises from behind his desk and walks to her in a matter of fact manner, then quizzes, “If you were to call me Doyle, then how would I address you Dr. Melanie K. Silkwood?”
“Well, I’ve never been asked that question before. I have almost always been addressed as Dr. Silkwood. I’m sure it wouldn’t imply any disrespect if you would simply refer to me as “Doc.”
Doyle raises his hand to shake Melanie’s hand and states, “It’s a deal, Doc.” Engaging in the handshake, Melanie as if trying to force back a smile, returns with, “Alright then Doyle, Doc it is. It’s been nice meeting you, but I have much work to begin, I had better get started.”
Doyle turns to re-enter his office, but only a step or two inside, something compels him to turn around and look in direction of Melanie’s jeep. When he does this “Doc,” as if knowing Chambers would eventually turn to her, gives the Chief a cute cocky smile, waves and then she buzzes off.
Offering a return smile that looks like it could be a result of a cramping gas pain, Chambers salutes his new acquaintance as he watches her speed off, her hair once again, blowing about.
Melanie has worked on and off throughout the day digging by hand with a small spade around the pyramid’s exposed base. There is only about twelve feet of the ancient monument’s top that became exposed as the rushing river water receded. She has no idea how tall the structure actually is, but presumes from geological data she has collected that the structure upon its construction was at least two-hundred feet tall.
Local villagers have assisted her in putting up a large canvas tent for her to use as the center of her base camp. The sun is beginning to set as they put the final touches on the tent, which is located a few short yards from Melanie’s work.
After her volunteers depart, Dr. Silkwood cannot contain herself any longer. She fetches her lantern and a small whiskbroom, dusts off the fresh etchings that she has exposed from where she left off in the early morning hours and continues to interpret her new findings.
She recognizes the vernacular to belong to the new King of Patrious, Aaron and whispers aloud as follows, “As I lay by her side I still cannot believe that I, Aaron, a common warrior from the small village of Nemin, have married the beautiful Queen of Patrious, Samanda. Her hair is like that of silk and her lips soft and like the color of a pale wine.’
“On this our wedding night I cannot help but wonder what the future has before us. Is it valid as the scriptures state, ‘That we will live together into eternity with passion and unabated love for each other?’
“The stars that shine on this night seem ominous, unlike that of which I’m familiar. How could this be so, on such a wonderful occasion? The pleasant smile my new bride possesses as she sleeps indicates there is little concern on her mind, only comfort.’
“I cannot help but wonder if her smile would remain if she were aware of that which I am? Would her smile remain if she knew about the adulterous affair that was imposed upon me by Corina? Worse, surely Corina now caries my child.’
“Would her smile remain if she knew that on Kaybra’s deathbed I pledged to have one final sexual encounter with her in her after life form? I already fear that Kaybra’s twin sister Saybra has been inhabited by Kaybra’s spirit. Upon our recent visit with Saybra I could sense the two sister’s souls had united as one. While my new wife the Queen, sat by my side on that last visit, I was held helplessly captive by large beauty’s encompassing sensual aura.’
“My bride seems to have forgotten that we destroyed all but the one last Harpy egg. Would she be with so much peace if that egg has hatched and Vapmressa’s daughter’ will someday come to rein over her mother’s evil kingdom?
“I must cleanse my thoughts on this night and become one with my beautiful Samanda and lovingly fulfill the meaning of this event. As I slowly pull the cover below her waist her naked breasts soak up the moon and star’s celestial lights, her sleeping smile broadens.’
“Caressing my Queen’s bared bosom with my extended palm I gently kiss her lips and whisper, “I love you.” Her eyes open and twinkle from the same light that illuminates her naked breasts. Putting her arms around my neck she twists her fingers into my hair and pulls my lips to hers, applying a passionate sucking oral kiss, awakening my manly depths.’
“Putting my arms around her and placing my hands on her petite shoulder blades, I pull the front of her heaving torso to my broad barred chest. Her hot soft pink flesh now molds itself into and around my cool bronze hard pectoral muscles as we continue to exchange oral juices.’
“My Queen moans attempting to fill my mouth with her muffled verbal attempts, exhorting ‘Take me. Take me now my King.’ She cups my head between both of her hands and intertwines her fingers tightly into my hair, so I dare not move. Breathing with an increasing pant she places the tip of her nose to mine, locks her eyes and demands, “Make love to me my King like there will be no tomorrow. Let us fornicate below the stars on this night as if we know this will be our last union.”
“Sliding my hands down from her shoulder blades I place them to the back of her thighs, squeeze them firmly and gently pull them apart as I rise atop her, whispering softly, “I love you Queen Samanda.”
“Methodically re-arranging my palms to the divisions of her soft rear side in an uninhibited manner I hold her firmly in place as I…”
A loud screech, “OH OUTCH” echoes throughout the otherwise silent darkness of the night in the river basin as Dr. Silkwood drops her lantern. Unwittingly she had turned the lamps wick up so high for illumination of the hieroglyphs that its metal handle has became red hot, burning her hand.
The kerosene lantern bursts into flames as it hits the ground creating a substantial fire. Startled Melanie kicks the burning remnants of the lamp in hope of dissipating the central flame.
Much to her dismay when she does this, the lantern rolls down a slight incline across the hardened sand and comes to a halt aside her tent. Within seconds she has two fires, her flaming tent soon to be the larger.
Pressed for a solution with no means to thwart either fire, Melanie is at a loss as she scampers about between the two blazes. Well aware that all of her personal belongings, records and data are in her tent, her mind and actions are now in a tizzy.
Melanie makes an odd decision to try and smother the tent fire with some blankets from her jeep, some of which she wraps around her body. She makes initial progress, until one of the blankets catches fire.
Finally she surrenders her usual self-sufficient demeanor with, “Help me! Can anyone hear me? Please help!” The words no more come from her mouth when a loud roar is heard from behind a nearby dune.
Fearing it’s an ancient beast about to set her already dire circumstances further askew, she is somewhat relieved when a set of head lights beam toward her from up and over the top of the dune.
But her hope darkens when she identifies the lights to belong to what she believes is an on site equipment refueling tank truck. She recognizes the truck to be similar to reports of one of the terrorist vehicles seen at the base of the dam shortly before the explosion.
As the short tanker speeds down the dune toward the flaming tent, with her blankets ablaze, Melanie is aghast with the vision of being sprayed down with diesel fuel in this very vulnerable state.
“No, please no! I am with the embassy! Please help me,” she screams aloud, but through the smoke that chokes and surrounds her, the tanker slams to a halt a few feet from the fire. A hooded individual in an asbestos suit springs from the cab of the tanker, unravels a hose from it’s tank and points its nozzle directly at her flaming body and blankets.
“Please, I tell you, I am from the embassy! Please help me, I’m burning up alive!”
The hooded figure pays no attention to her painful pleas. Standing nearly on top of her with the fluid nozzle pointed directly at her, a heavy gloved hand reaches for the trigger of the hose’s fuel valve. “No…Please do not do this, I have come to help you,” she wails.
As the fuel hits Dr. Silkwood from her face to her waist she is thrown to her back further into the flames from the force of the volume. Her gargled screams, “No! Please, I told you, I came to help you,” seem to no avail.
The fluid is menacingly cold as it drenches her blankets and body while she continues lament. On the verge of going into a state of shock and willingly be silenced, Melanie realizes the freezing fluid sprayed upon her is not igniting. Within moments the fire is extinguished as she now lies on her back in a shallow muddy pool of water, ashes and charred remnants of tarpaulin.
On her back in a panic, she wipes the wet soot from her eyes and glares upward to the mask of the hooded figure.
The figure flips the tinted glass lens open on the asbestos hood and angrily states, “If you really wanted to help me, you could start by not setting your ass on fire and half the damn desert!”
Recovering quickly and feeling like a reprimanded child Melanie exhorts, “Mr. Chambers, I did not set my ass on fire and half your damn desert on purpose!”
After pulling the asbestos gear off his head and flipping his dark hair back with his fingers, Chamber’s cheeks slightly dimple as he smiles quipping down to Melanie, “I thought we agreed, you were to call me Doyle, Doc.”
“Alright then, ‘Doyle’, are you going to assist me to my feet?” Chambers kneels to one knee, places his forearms under Melanie’s armpits and clasps his hands under her rib cage, attempting to lift her to her feet. But the water mixed with the ash has created a slippery situation.
Doyle slightly looses his footing, then trying to regain his balance to keep both of them from falling into the muck, his frontal grasp inadvertently slides up Dr. Silkwood’s drenched muddy upper torso under what little is left of her khakis blouse. His palms now are unmistakably cupped around her bare breasts by the time he finally achieves a steady stance.
There is a longer period of silence than one would expect as the two stand there in the night, Doc with her back held tight against Doyle’s chest, Doyle with his hands still firmly upon her breasts. The silent respite is broken when Melanie says, “Thank you, I’m alright now, you may release me.” Doyle slowly removes his hands and turns Melanie around to him, placing his hands to the sides of her shoulders. Looking down at her pretty face and snarled hair smeared with streaks of wet ash he asks, “Are you sure you are alright Doc?”
As if a bit spellbound, Melanie gazes up to his dark brow, pauses for several seconds and replies, “Yes, yes I’m certain, just starting to become a little chilly from standing here like this in the night air.” In a quick glance, Doyle views Doc’s now scantily covered breasts and confirms she is not misstating her chilled condition.
As if it were a command Doyle orders, “Come, let’s get you in the truck and back to my tent where you can clean up and get warm. I’ve had a shower bag hanging in the hot sun all day that I was about to take advantage of just before I spotted the flames coming from your tent.” Looking about the smoldering site Doyle quizzes, “I hope your baggage and clean clothes are still in your jeep?”
About two-thirds of Melanie’s tent has been destroyed by the fire and is in an open-air state at this time. The two turn their heads in unison toward the debris and in a glance, the sight of a short stack of charred suitcases covered by burnt canvas shreds, answers the question at hand.
A short period has past by the time Dr. Silkwood and Chief Chambers arrive at his tent. Doyle leaps down from the truck’s cab, sheds his protective asbestos garb and passes to the passenger door. He takes Melanie’s hand assisting her to the desert’s sand floor. She smells like a burnt out house, the day after the fire.
Dr. Silkwood is usually very much in charge of any given situation and certainly not the type of individual to so willingly accept such a helping hand, but frankly on this evening she is exhausted and has received some significant burns from the tent fire. Doc has limited options.
After entering Doyle’s tent he asks her to wait while he lights his lamps, then crosses with her to his captains chair behind his desk, swivels it out and seats her saying, “Sit here for a bit Doc, I’ll light a fire by the shower bag stand and see what I can round up for you to wear until you get your supply shipment.” Doyle pulls the canvas flap back to the opening of his sleeping room in the tent and soon returns with a blanket, which he places over Melanie’s shoulders and tucks around the sides of her legs. He then exits the tent and begins stoking up a fire close to where his makeshift shower stand is located to the rear of his canvas office and interconnected bedroom dwelling.
Melanie sits in the chair dirty and exhausted, listening to Doyle rustle about outside the rear of the tent, when as if in an instant the canvas behind her starts to glow and become warm from the fire he builds outside. She rotates the chair’s seat so she faces the warmth, removes the blanket as she rises and starts to peel off the tattered remains of her singed wet clothing.
Dr. Silkwood has no more than recovered her nakedness with the blanket when Dole re-enters the tent saying, “You should be all set Doc…” But stops abruptly when he sees Melanie standing there under his blanket with her wet clothes in a heap near her bared long legs and feet.
Melanie, with her ego now bit smitten due her unexpected dilemma and to Doyle’s kind and concerned offerings returns with, “I am all set, thanks to you Chief Chambers, aren’t I,” while she uncharacteristically allows her blanket to gape open slightly in front of her without a reflex quick fix.
Chamber’s brow squints, as he is confused about how to interpret the implications of Melanie’s last comment accompanied with her modeled disregard for her partial nudity. A bit too daft to realize she is very great full that he literally saved her life and is trying to ease his formal military demeanor, Doyle maintains his staunch persona.
While Silkwood is a highly educated Doctor and a dedicated professional, she still is a beautiful woman, so it is to her dismay when Doyle passes her, patting her on the butt with, “O.k. lets hit the showers Doc. All you have to do is pull the rope that hangs down from the shower bag over your head, here’s a towel.’
“I found some tops and bottoms that might fit you in my old barracks trunk. I’ll lay them out on the cot over here while you shower. You can try them on after you’re cleaned up and the smoke stench is washed off.’
“It’s a large bag with the soap already in it, so take your time, if you’re going to be sleeping under the same roof with me tonight I don’t want you smelling like a barbequed goat.”
Quite miffed about her failure to chip Chambers chiseled martial approach to her, Melanie snatches the towel from his extended hand and struts out of the tent’s entry opening retorting, “I fully understand how to use a shower bag Chief Chambers, you might have a few worldly years on me, but I can assure you that I have alike, been on far more expeditions than you have around this globe and on each I have repeatedly used such a devise.”
After Doc barely rounds the tents exit, Chambers cheats back a smile and roars back to her, “HEY DOC, I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO CALL ME DOYLE!”
After laying out a set of old army fatigues he found in the bottom of one of his footlockers, he had long outgrown, Doyle scoots his swivel chair back up to his desk, plops himself down and reaches across his desk for one of his larger bowled smoking pipes. Striking a match to it and taking a puff or two he turns the flame up on his desk lamp and studies the blue prints given him by the Pentagon to rebuild the dam. He has but a short time to prepare, for his troops, equipment and supplies will all arrive in a few short days.
As he tries to concentrate on the prints, an unusual reoccurring slight breeze from the tent's opening wisps across his desk making his desk lamp’s flame flicker. An annoyed Chambers grits his teeth into his pipe's stem, stokes it to a red hot glow with repeated hardy puffs, bolts to the tent’s opening and closes the canvas flap, then crosses back and reseats himself behind his desk.
He no more than takes another look at his charts when a quick puff of air from nowhere blows out the lamp completely. Doyle grabs his lighter, striking it repeatedly to try and relight the lamp, to no avail. Only the red-hot tobacco embers in his pipe glow in the darkness. But something further curious happens, in the darkened silence between the sounds he makes flicking his lighter, he hears a woman softly moan. The sound comes from behind him.
Doyle slowly swivels his chair around 160% and now views the back wall of his tent that faces the fire and outdoor shower.
The canvas wall is totally illuminated and appears much like a movie screen with an intense amber hue filling it from corner to corner, all this time the sounds of the woman’s moans grow louder and more painful.
In an instant a large perfect silhouette of a very shapely tall thin naked woman appears projected onto the center of the screen. It is the shadow cast upon the outside wall of the tent from the fires glow opposite of Melanie taking her shower, the moans are a result of her bathing the burn areas on her breasts and buttocks.
The enlarged image of a nude Dr. Silkwood bathing is so remarkably defined that Doyle’s jaw drops in awe at the sight of this naked beauty. Jaw dropped, the red-hot smoking loaded bowl of his pipe falls off its stem and lands squarely between his upper thighs.
Spitting the stem of the pipe out as if were a bitter pill Chambers tries to stand, but his forearms will not budge, it’s as if they are invisibly strapped to the tops of the arms of his captain’s chair. “Oh… oh… oh,” further soft moans echo out against the tents outside walls as the dark shadow tries to first soothe one naked wet breast and then the other.
Now Chambers tries to wiggle his rump around to free himself from the chair, but this only causes the hot bowl of his pipe to slide further down between his legs on the wooden seat, closer to his genitals. It is if his ass is squarely glued in place.
The shower's tiny drop shadows can be seen as hundreds of small dark beads as they spray down and bounce off of the firm breasts, and plain to see hardened nipples of the large silhouetted naked woman. With Dr. Silkwood showering only a few short feet before Doyle on the outside of the tent, this time he clearly hears her moan out loud, “Augh, oh, augh, augh,” while her soapy palms massage her shapely bosom and buttocks. The imposing erotic sight of the beautiful naked doctor squirming, contorting and moaning about in discomfort under the pelting wet bouncing beads begins to quickly awaken Doyle’s previously lethargic manhood.
Chambers who is mystically bound between two distinct points of pleasure and pain cannot believe his predicament. The point of pain intensifies as he feels the still glowing hot bowl of his pipe slide closer down between his legs. Fighting his invisible restraints his crotch is begining to heat up, both from the pipe as well as Melanie’s shadowy naked body and soothing painful moans and contortions.
The deep orange hue of the screen contrasted by the enlarged jet-black pin perfect image of Melanie’s quivering body just outside the rear of the tent has disabled Chamber’s familiar firm approach. As much as he fights it, his dire situation only heightens, making it very hard on him and very, very hot.
Just as the black image grasps her breasts and sighs out, “Augh, augh God please, please augh please remove these burns!” Chambers wriggles once more in discomfort, which only allows the red-hot pipe bowl to lodge itself firmly against the upper inseam of his trousers and fully pumped shaft. His trousers now smoking from the intense heat begins to seriously burn his swollen seeping erection. Chambers can no longer hold back a groan. Attempting to wriggle about, he wails out with, “Augh… Oh, fuck!” His wails of discomfort chime in with those of the naked beauties silhouette of equally painful exhortations.
Their combined laments echo throughout the sandy desert basin, arid night sky and cloudy shrouded moon, while for some time two ghostly figures of ancient woman, one in white the other in black have stood just outside Doyle’s tent throughout this ordeal.
The moment Doyle’s invisible bondage began to restrain him, these figures achieved a full metamorphosis from within the stones of the now partially exposed pyramid next to Melanie’s burned out tent. The spirit in black smiles and turns to her counterpart in white saying, “That will teach this ‘Chief Chambers’ to be so harsh with his thoughts and actions to our sister Ms. Silkwood.” With an all knowing smirk, the figure continues, “Combined with our sister’s gentle moans, their joint cries sound like those of a heated mutual climax.”
In response the white ghostly image demands, “ But Dilyla you must release them, our souls have been trapped under the depths of sea for over a century. I do not wish to go further into eternity like that. You must release him so our sister Dr. Silkwood can seduce him into not rebuilding the great dam structure. If you further ignite his genitalia she will have nothing to work with and we will surely be returned to our water soaked tombs.”
“Your point is well taken Corina, I shall release Mr. Chambers immediately, but I will be by his side every moment to assure he is directed to do as our sister Ms. Silkwood wishes.” The ancient, ghostly, white female image responds, “Thank you Dilyla.”
It is now the early evening the next day. Dr. Silkwood has just returned to Doyle’s campsite in her jeep after supposedly working since early morning on cleaning up and evaluating the aftermath of her charred tent, supplies and clothing.
Doyle has been equally hard at work filling out material order forms and making adjustments to the blueprints the Pentagon has provided for him to reconstruct the dam. He has been in a great deal of discomfort all day from his unexplained mishap with his pipe the evening before.
He looks up from his desk just as Melanie enters his tent to hear her say, “Well, Chief Chambers, will you extend an invitation to me to stay one more night?” Before Doyle can respond she plops herself down on a metal folding chair facing the desk just to the left of where Chambers sits, then flips her long brown hair back over her shoulders with both hands and smiles to him pleasantly.
“One more night, weren’t you able to radio the village to bring you additional supplies and clothing? After all Doc, I’ve got a dam to rebuild, I can’t be playing welcome wagon for every whim the United Nations gets to send scientists to watch over my every move.” Chambers replies curtly as he stands and places his hands to his hips.
Melanie stands as well and then goes nose to nose with Doyle stating, “ For your information Chief Chambers somehow all of the radios are mysteriously dead, including the ones in your jeep and truck.’
“I have very limited petro in my jeep, surely not enough to make it to the village. In addition I have eaten nothing all day due my lack of supplies.”
Doyle looks at the tired and obviously frustrated damsel, who is still less than an inch from his face and blurts out, “Hungry? Hell I’d have made you breakfast if you wouldn’t have gotten up before the crack of dawn and taken off for your precious pyramid. What is it down there that has you so intensely intrigued? It’s just a pile of damned old stones!”
Now Melanie begins to wreath with Dole’s last statement and blurts back with, “Damned old stones! Chief Chambers I’ll have you know sir, that this find is one of the rarest ever found. To date there are no, and I repeat no records of any three sided pyramids ever before found in the history of mankind!’
“I’m certain that the three sides are distinctly representative of three very unique ancient characters, who according to my findings were the driving force for our modern day civilizations attitudes towards daily life, sexuality and war.’
“You, Sir Chambers, may even learn a thing or two about war strategies, acting civilized and sexual sensuality from Aaron, Samanda and Kaybra if you were not so hopelessly daft!”
Moderately taken back by Silkwood’s heated demeanor, Doyle, for obvious reasons, gingerly seats himself back to his captain’s chair, then reaches for his pipe. He begins to bring the pipe to his mouth for the first time on this day, has a flashback to the night before, then tosses the pipe back on his desk and quizzes back to Melanie, “Aaron, Samanda and Kaybra? Who in the hell, pray tell my dear are Aaron, Samanda and Kaybra? Did the fire from your tent last night roast your brain before I extinguished it?”
Now quite steamed Doc fires back, “Chief Chambers you are with out a doubt one of the most rude, uncompassionate, thick skinned bastards that I have ever encountered in my life!’
“Don’t worry about my imposing on you an additional night. As a matter of fact, Chief Chambers, don’t be concerned about me imposing on you for another minute.”
With that, Melanie hastily crosses to where she slept on the small cot the night before along side the opposite inside canvas wall from Doyle’s sleeping room and picks up what is left of her damp charred garments from the night before. She whizzes back past Doyle in a manner that insures he feels a small breeze from her passing and pops into his bedroom. Doyle says, “Doc what are you doing in there? Now come out and lets talk reasonable.”
Out of his eye shot scuffling around inside Doyle’s private sleeping room Doc continues aloud, “Reasonable! Chief Chambers the only thing reasonable that you know is your own reasoning!’
“Don’t be concerned about being reasonable, here are your trousers Chief Chambers.” Becoming a little tense that Doc might ultimately cause him trouble with the U.N., he watches in disbelief as the trousers he loaned Doc the night before come flying out of the opening of his bedroom and land just before him.
“Here is your shirt Chief Chambers!” With that the shirt Doyle loaned Doc the night before flies out of his bedroom door and lands on top of the trousers.
“Here is your red….” With that a woman’s red thong flies out of the bedrooms open flapped entry and lands on top of the shirt.
With heightened frustration Doc can be heard, “Damn it, why did I do that? Chief Chambers I will be out of here in a dash!”
Doyle starts to sweat it a bit as he continues to hear Melanie rustle about and curse under her breath in his bedroom, it’s thin canvas wall ruffling every time Doc bumps it from the other side with her hips as she tries to wiggle into her rump into her singed damp attire. In a spilt second, Doc emerges from Doyle’s bedroom, passes to the pile of clothes now at his feet, plucks-up her red thong off the top the pile and streaks out of Doyle’s tent, heading in the direction of her jeep. The old clothes she wears from the night before do a very poor job in covering her curvaceous flesh.
Doyle shouts, “Doc wait! Wait Doc, I want to hear more about those ancient people…” Running after her he continues shouting, “Doc come-on, tell me more about Aaron and those other two women! I want to know…”
By this time Doc is squarely planted in the seat of her jeep, turns the key and fires the engine up. Doyle has reached a point directly in front of the jeep, inches away from it’s front bumper. He holds both of his hands up, palms to Melanie signaling her to halt in place as he inches up on the jeep, continuing to plea.
The two look each other eye two eye through the windshield of the jeep, it’s engine roaring, with Doc’s painted toe nails and bare foot about to pop the clutch. Several unnerving seconds pass when Doc quickly shifts gears and pops the clutch.....
