The Giza Death Star Revisited: A New Steemit Novel Chapter 37
The Giza Death Star Revisited: A Novel Based on the Work of Joseph P. Farrell
Greaves was a big John Goodman-esque sort of guy, but he was nearly as agile as the two younger men, and in equally good condition. They started towards the mountain in a scout run, which is a method of minimizing their tracks and conserving energy. As they altered their concentric rings, they appeared to shapeshift into a 3-pack of coyotes for the remainder of their run.
The top of the mountain was shaped exactly as it had been in their sweat lodge vision. A cool mountain pond and some scrub covered the summit. Aside from that, they couldn’t see anything that they might be looking for, presumably a way into the facility they wanted to scope out.
“Alright, so now what do we do?”
“What do the tracks tell you?”
“There weren’t any after about a 1/3 of the way up. Not even human.”
“That means all the wildlife and all the locals avoid this place like the plague. Not one damn bird or rodent up here.”
“Animals aren’t the only ones who leave tracks,” began Thorny pensively. “Take a look at that.”
“Those bushes there.”
“What about ‘em?”
Thorny went into mock David Attenborough mode. “I’m standing here on the top of a Mountain in Southwestern North America. Here, in the alpine forests, we find a very, very unusual plant indeed. It appears that while Nazis excel at physics and are obsessively thorough about secrecy and security, they are indeed, poor botanists.”
One Flare widened his eyes as he does when his friend is onto something and said what he always does, “Huh? Just looks kinda like poison ivy.”
“Western poison ivy, Toxicodendron rydbergii, to be precise.”
“I guess if I wanted to plant something that would keep people out, that would be it,” surmised Greaves.
“And it’s a little out of place here, and there isn’t any more of it around here. Haven’t seen any since we got here. And considering the complete lack of wildlife up here, I’d say the chances of having its seeds dropped by a bird or some other browser are pre-tay slim.”
“Oh, dude! We’re all gonna get poison ivy goin’ through that.”
“You two might, but I won’t,” Thorny clarified. “I don’t get it.”
“You mean you don’t get any.”
“Hyuck hyuck hyuck. Very funny.”
“C’mon, guys. Focus.”
“Did I ever tell you about the time my friend Ian and his girlfriend did it in a poison ivy patch? Oh, dude! They got rashes all….”
“We don’t wanna know.”
“Just wash off with soap right away and you’ll be OK.”
“Anybody bring soap?” asked One Flare sardonically, emphasizing “soap” and holding his hands open while thrusting his hips forward.
“The thunderbird is protecting us, doofus.” Thorny enunciated each word like Adam West as Batman until doofus which he strongly ejaculated. He then turned and leaned over to see if he could peek through the ivy.
“OK, well since you don’t get it, you go in first to make sure it’s worth it. I promise I won’t poke your ass.”
Thorny poked his head through the poison ivy on his hands and knees slapping once at his behind just to make sure One Flare was keeping his promise. They heard him exclaim ever so quietly, “Whoaaaaa..”
“What’d you see?” asked Greaves. He found it difficult to keep his composure around these two because they were forever yucking it up, but hey, it worked.
He extricated himself and turned to face them. “A tunnel. Or a ventilation duct, or something.”
“Yeah, I got somethin’ for your tunnel right here.”
“OK,” announced Greaves giving a faux noogie to One Flare, “shit just got real. Hand signals and bubbles only from here on out.”
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