- Working at KSC
- NASA Old Headquarters building on KSC destroyed.
- Flintknapping points
- Vampires of Kennedy Space Center and the O&C
- Demons of Kennedy Space Center
- Demons of Kennedy Space Center, corpus callosotomy
- Ghosts of Kennedy Space Center, End of Spiders
- Dreams of Kennedy Space Center, lovers and pyramids.
- Witches of Kennedy Space Center
- Cave Bears of Kennedy Space Center
- Aliens of Kennedy Space Center, uninvited guests
- Remembering Kennedy Space Center
- Lake 33 Killing Relic
Ghosts of Lake 33.
A Weldon Spring Story.
Chapter Five
“Discovery”
Welcome!
A new Book in first stages of writing.
The following pages and chapters are first drafts, including typos, grammar and tense problems.
Take it for what it is, A WORK IN PROGRESS.
.....And....Since I am by nature, a discovery writer, the story could change 100% (Have to get the ideas it out of your head and onto the monitor before it can be improved, fixed or corrected. Or thrown in the trash can via the delete button.
The Discovery at Dardenne Creek
I telephoned Becca and explained what Rob had found by the ruins of the old chimney. “Maybe a bison ambush site,” I suggested. “Could be the easternmost buffalo jump in Missouri. Giving you the first dibs at being famous.”
Becca was silent for a moment. “Well, I’m actually assigned to the hematite mine dig in Buford, but I have a coworker who’s been doing lab DNA studies. She’s been trying to get outside again, get back in the field. I’ll pass this on to her to see if she wants to take a look. If she wants it, I’ll get the boss to approve her assignment. We can meet near Busch and I will introduce her and you can take us to the bones. Your discovery may only be some deer that were killed or wasn’t that creek poisoned during the war? We’ll look at it and see how to proceed.”
She paused. “Though, sometimes I think you and your brother are nothing more than artifact collectors.”
“Copy that,” I replied. “Set up a date and I’ll take you out there.”
“Good. Love you, bye.”
Waiting in the parking lot at the Weldon Spring Containment Dome, I reflected that when I was a kid, this whole area was an abandoned factory, not a man-made mountain of rock.
Becca pulled up and parked next to me, a strange woman with long brown hair sitting in the passenger seat.
“Have you been to the top of this mountain?” I asked when we stepped out to greet each other. The stranger shook her head no. Becca only smiled.
“We’re here early. Otherwise, there’d be a thousand schoolchildren heading up the hill getting radiated.”
We shook hands and Becca introduced us.
“This is Bruce Ryba, the ghost town tour guide. We met in this museum, he has a lot of local knowledge.”
Becca left out that I had spent the weekend in her trailer.
“This is Dr. Myers. Our boss assigned her to investigate your discovery and if needed she will take official action. To be fair, he doesn’t have much faith in whatever you and your brother might have found. However Dr. Myers wishes to get back on a feild dig, back to the land of ticks and chiggers and dirt.”
“Can’t say I blame her wanting to get outside,” I said. “Let me tell you what we found, my brother and were chasing the family dogs through Busch and that’s when.”
Dr. Myers cut me off.
“Can we get to the point?”
“Yes,” I raised my voice slightly, “We were chasing our dogs up Dardenne Creek and discovered washout where the creek overflowed and cut out the bank, exposing a lot of bones. A lot of bones.”
The two archaeologist ladies didn’t say much, no follow-up questions.
“There were a few arrowheads in the mix,” I added, not mentioning that Rob had pocketed a couple. “I was thinking maybe we found bison. A bison jump site.”
Dr. Myers was learning how to push my buttons and she studied me like an insect for a moment. “Too far east for bison. Not very plausible.”
“Forest Bison, not the classic plains bison.” My words sounded weak even to me.
I caught a glimmer of disdain in her eyes at my ignorance. Dr. Myers said nothing, but her expression told me she knew she was dealing with amateurs.
“I think this is an important discovery.”
“I will be frank, if Becca does not wish too,” said Dr. Myers. “ Our supervisor has explained to us, that you and your brother are pot hunters, tomb raiders to sell items on the net. You have a friend who pawned off barrels of unknown artifacts, and have we never discovered the source. The archaeology site where the black market items came from is crucial for our understanding of the local Native American cultures.”
“I think maybe your boss is wrong,” I said. “This has nothing to do with what he thought of us. This has everything to do with what we found in Dardenne Creek. My personal belief is a real archaeologist needs to look at it and call in the calvery before the meth heads, the actual pot hunters find this site or another flood spreads more bones down the creek.”
“Okay,” said Becca, stepping between me and the Doctor, “We have gotten off to a bad start. Let’s say we go look before making accusations?”
“Someone want to acknowledge that I called for an archaeologist, and did not began selling stuff?”
“Let’s do this,” said Dr. Myers.
“I’ll bring bug spray for the chiggers. And I suggest, if this is the real deal, you ask the conservation department to build a temporary bridge over Kraut Run, to drive equipment out there. Maybe even set up a guardgate and lock.”
The two ladies nodded their heads in agreement.
“Follow me to Lake 33.”
We parked by Kraut Run Creek. Still angry at the spat and accusations, I was pleased to see their reactions about getting wet.
“I’m sorry, I forgot to mention, we have wade Kraut Run and then walk the fields above the lake to get to Dardenne Creek. We can walk upstream a little bit where the water is shallower.” And less snakes, I kept to myself.
“That is what I meant by getting the Conservation Department to build a bridge.”
~
I angled back toward Dardenne Creek, toward where I knew the cabin was on the opposite bluff, recalling from childhood memories of exploring the old log cabin ruins, that even as kid, only had the stone chimney to indicate there had ever been a house or shack.
“It’s right around here. Just look for a washout. Won’t be hard to find.”
We followed a deer trail to the gravel beds of Dardenne Creek.
The creek had carved a fresh cut, trying to forge a new channel. Before we even reached the cutout, there were bones lying in the gravel streambed. Becca stooped down and inspected them, taking pictures. “They are not bison,” she murmured. “Definitely not bison.”
“Too small,” said Dr. Myers.
“That’s why I called you guys in. I wasn’t sure what we found.”
In the new washout there was a jumble of bones, rain-washed clean. Several skulls were clearly identifiable.
Dr. Myers exhaled sharply, “What do we have here?” she whispered, looking at me. “I apologize. That was rude of me. This is... this is unexpected.” She used a tape measure and recorded how many feet below the leaf strewn surface and mayapple plants.
“Is this a burial from the plague or something?” I asked.
“The flu doesn’t leave marks like this,” said Becca pointing to a dent in one of the skulls. Her face had paled slightly. “What the hell happened here?”
“Look at this, Becca.”
Dr. Myers used her pencil to gently prod a small, flat arrowhead. “Late Mississippian.” The implications began to sink in. “This isn’t a burial site. This is a massacre site. A Late Mississippian massacre site.”
The doctor took out her phone and clicked several pictures and then began recording video. “Appears to be Late Mississippian by the artifacts. Multiple bones, at least a dozen set of ribs visible and two skulls.”
Dr. Myers continued filming with her own phone, stopping at one one leg bone higher than the rest, just under the oak and hickory leaf covered surface.
The archeaolgoist stopped speaking and only said, “Ahhh, Becca?”
The three of us pushed shoulder to shoulder to view the new find.
A lone leg bone and foot boon still had a shoe attached, rotten leather or canvas, cleaned by the water.
Doctor Myers zoomed in on the boot and the letters: “US ATOMIC COMMISSION.”
The three of us stared at the leg in the boot. “US Atomic Commission,” I repeated slowly. “Is this a time traveler?”
“I think we may have two historical events here,” Dr. Myers said. “A murder scene on top of a murder scene.”
~
“Thank you,” said Doctor Myers, after we waded Kraut Run and reached our vehicles. "For bringing this site to our attention."
“A bridge, yes,” said the archaeologist.
“And a gate,” agreed Becca.
I handed Dr. Myers my card.
“Bruce Ryba Ghost Town Tours,” she read, and frowned slightly.
“Keep me informed,” I requested. “I’m going to call the sheriff and the Missouri Conservation Department.”
And warn Amber of the coming circus.
Return HOME from Ghosts of Lake 33. A Weldon Spring Story. Chapter Five “Discovery” page
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