EarthUnder (The Meteorite Chronicles Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

obscured by a smooth tongue and a devious, deceptive smile. Just as the reef fishes must coexist with the shark and the land creatures must live with the serpent, we must live with this scourge of a human known as Claus Laurent and all the masses of his followers, allies, and clones.
    Sharif listened nodding and looking deep into my eyes, reading my earnestness as Zen translated my words but preserved the message as perfectly as semantics allowed. There was a time when there was no race to the finish. There was no need for the sense of urgency or fear of competition. These rocks could be left lying endlessly, and tenacity was a useless trait. Now there is a rush of fortune seekers diligently scrambling to be the first to acquire something new, something to turn into cash. And that is changing as well. For the last decade the scramble was directed at finding wildly new and unusual types of meteorites in classifications never before analyzed. There is a far more competitive clamber to be the first to offer pieces of the most recent fall event. So when something truly unusual is found or falls fresh from the sky, the sharks can smell the blood in the water and first gets the most.
    When I originally got into this, I was filled with passion. It was fun-filled excitement, challenge, and travel to strange new places, so much fun it felt like a sin. No part of this was work; it was all a thrilling roller coaster ride. It was all about the quest, and after completion, it was on to the next adventure. Now many parts of the endeavor feel freakishly stressful. So often now I use virtually every resource and strain all of my assets, only to find that Laurent or one of his wannabe clones has just left with the stone. Or worse yet, I acquire pieces and upon returning home or arriving at a research facility, I learn that I am too late. So often now I hear the words, “Yes, your specimens are very nice, but we already have all we can use.”
    I needed to be clear with Sharif and Zed that I was not there to take this treasured stone away, but that the effort was to obtain a small piece for research. They understood that I had known of its legend through the ages. But did they sense my reservation about its actual existence? This relic photograph might have been a picture of anything, but it did appear to be meteoritic. As always, the only way to confirm its authenticity was to treat everything and everyone as if it was the real deal. What struck me is how Sharif was already so concretely certain. Between his conviction and the ludicrous language barrier, I would never convince him otherwise. But that was ok; a true believer can be a priceless ally. What was going to take time was educating him about the dark side of my work.
    We began spelling out this portrayal slowly, carefully, and with diligent eye contact. The eyes are the window to the soul, and shifty eyes sever the bonds of trust. A limited few words into our dissertation on our concerns for the safety of the stone, I mentioned the name of my nemesis. Zen was abruptly interrupted mid-sentence by Sharif as he pointed and shook his fingers, repeating, “Aurent, Aurent!”
    Heart leaped to throat as I whispered, “He’s already been here.” Zen frantically bid for clarification. The Elder began speaking swiftly in soft, deliberate tones. I watched his gestures as Zen listened intently. One could feel the importance of Sharif’s words. I struggled to choke back concern. It was nearly impossible to sit quietly while potential scenarios raced through the mind. Although not soon enough to squelch my angst, after a time Sharif’s words ceased as he glanced into my eyes. His expression was unreadable, and I got nothing from his guttural, vociferous dialect and flailing gestures. But we all knew who he was talking about, and he had a great deal to express, which was a rare occasion.
    Zenny, as I sometimes affectionately called him, took a deep breath and turned to me. “Ok, man,” he