Recipe for Adventure

All characters are 18 years old or older.

All the preparations have been made and our protagonist and his friends are leaving the safety of Arkham behind. They are off to Egypt to unearth secrets that have laid dormant for twenty thousand years. What will they find?

Even though everything has been carefully planned and worked out, chaos reigned. The members of the dig had been interviewed and chosen. The equipment had been purchased and crated up for travel. All the members of the dig had gotten their inoculations as well as their passports. So why was everything so damn crazy? I was in the middle of a whirlwind. While I panicked, Felicia just handled the extraneous things and Carol just rolled with the punches. I couldn't find any peace in meditation and the day of departure finally dawned. I met with the Chancellor first thing in the morning for a cup of coffee and last minute tips.

"Relax," she said the moment she laid eyes on me.

"I don't want to mess this up," I said as I sat down.

"Maybe you should have decaf," she suggested with a gentle smile. "You are going to do great."

"Thanks," I said. "I appreciate the vote of confidence."

"There has been a change of plans though," she said as she picked up her translucent coffee cup. "With all the problems with the flights in and out of the Middle East I've made other arrangements."

"What sort of arrangements?" I asked.

"You'll see," she said with a serpentine smile.

"Aw hell..."

I couldn't get anything else out of her. I made one last trip to the history department to make sure everything was set to leave. I was exchanging texts with Felicia and Corey, my second in command. As far as I could see we were all set and ready to leave on time. Carol picked me up and my belongings as well as hers and Felicia's were stowed in the back. She turned onto the highway and we headed for our point of embarkation. With the airport being out of the running that left only one thing, we were going by water. I knew from the past that the university had used some pretty impressive science vessels for their teams. I was looking forward to seeing where we would be spending the next few days. A dozen names and images of some pretty cutting edge vessels flittered past my mind's eye. We parked by the dock and I looked out over the boats that were tied off. I glanced at Carol and she smiled as she pointed to the converted tramp steamer.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I let fly before I caught myself.

"I like it," Carol said. "And so will you."

I managed to manhandle most of the luggage down to the boat. I noticed the nameplate and flinched. A flurry of movement and the students took the luggage from me and carried it onboard. Felicia was speaking with a man that appeared to be the ship's captain. He was a grizzled old salt whose skin was perpetually tanned and weathered from sun, sea and wind. His bright blue eyes shone bright as he approached and stuck out his hand in greeting.

"I'm Cicero Glass, Captain of the Dunwich," he said as he gave my hand a good squeeze. "You got a good grip for an egg head."

"Thanks Captain," I said and looked out over the bay. "Looks a little rough..."

"Yeah, I was telling the lass here that it would be better if we waited a few days. But I understand you scientific types and if we are lucky we can outrace the worst of it."

At that point he began shouting orders and before I knew what was going on we were on our way. The ship lurched forward and we headed out of the bay and into open water. The gray skies didn't give me confidence in a smooth journey and I wasn't disappointed. The frozen rain began to fall an hour later. We finished stowing the last of the luggage and gather together out of the way of the captain and his crew. We made plans for once we made landfall in Cairo. The ship began to pitch as the seas became rougher and the captain chased the storm. The swells of the waves were frightening and awe-inspiring at the same time. While the others hunkered down I took up a position where I could watch the ocean. As I stared the world slowed and I watched the creation of a single wave and its short life as it crashed down onto the ocean's surface.

I turned back and saw that the group was seated in a circle while one of the students told a story about the town of Dunwich. He was telling about a degenerate family that went by the name of the Whateley's. As the story progressed he talked about their pagan beliefs and how the father had offered his daughter up to some sort of pagan god. She didn't die. She in fact became impregnated by the god's foul offspring. She gave birth to it and in time it nearly destroyed the village of Dunwich. When I asked the student how he knew so much about the story he dropped a bombshell. His grandfather's last name was Atwood. I knew the name. Hell, anyone in the history department knew about the legendary Professor Atwood. The digs he had been on had rewritten many of the current texts used by universities worldwide. While the other students called it a great ghost story I suspected a kernel of truth in his tale. The name of Atwood carried a lot of weight with me.

A collective cry of alarm escaped our lips as we hit rougher seas. To take our minds off the weather we took turns telling stories. Felicia shared the first time she had to draw her weapon in the line of duty. Carol told the story of how her mother had worked on the Kepler Space Telescope. Everyone looked at me and I had to spend some time to pick a story to tell. While I decided on a story one of the students asked me if I was living in the Old Pickman house. I nodded and launched into a story of my own creation. The words came easily since parts of it were inspired by actual events.

"The Old Pickman place has a long and terrible history. This is in fact the third building to sit on that property. Some say that a coven of practitioners of the dark arts once lived there. It is whispered that they performed unspeakable acts which revolved around the disappearance of woman of ill repute."

"What does that even mean," one of the male students asked.

"Hookers stupid," another student growled.

"Because they were wanton women the police at the time didn't look into the missing persons reports. What they didn't know is that the women had been butchered in a ritualistic fashion to summon dire entities onto our earthly plane. Their blood still stains the hidden altar in the basement beneath the building. They weren't the first to make such sacrifices. Oh no, that hidden chamber had been there for over a century. Unknown to the cultists the stench of the blood had drawn unnatural creatures from the depths of the labyrinthine tunnels beneath the city. The things fed off death and were responsible for getting rid of the evidence for the coven members. The ghouls were fed well and thus became loyal servants and eager accomplices for their human masters. To raise funds for their cult and live in the lifestyles they were used to they sent out the ghouls to rob the graves of the rich of Arkham. To this day if you listen in the basement you can hear the scratching sounds of their claws on the stones of the sewers as they make their way to feed on the dead and gather the riches for their long dead masters."

"Are their sewers in your basement?" One of the female students asked.

"No silly, it was just a story," the obnoxious male student replied.

"I heard Pickman was a real nut job," another student added.

"I heard he just disappeared," Felicia said smiling wickedly. "The missing persons report is still open in the police archives."

Everyone laughed and we continued sharing stories until hunger drove us out of the cabin and to the ship's galley. We ate a light meal as the swells grew stronger and more intense. I was thankful for those summers spent with my uncle on his crab boat. There had been some pretty wild rides like a roller coaster where Mother Nature is in control. Some of the others were not doing so well and that's when Carol stepped up and took their mind off the weather outside. One of the crew appeared and told us we were changing course to avoid the worse part of the storm. We were going to skirt the edge of it and it might add up to a full day to our arrival time. I was fine with that. The thought of facing gale force winds and fifty foot swells was not on my agenda for this trip.

Everyone eventually settled into small groups and as the night wore on most of them slipped into their berths and went to sleep. I went out to see how we were doing. The first mate was at the helm. Jaden Christensen tried his best to keep us on course but pointed to the radar and showed me the two converging weather patterns. The storm we had been attempting to outrace was north of us but to our mutual horror a full-fledged hurricane was brewing to the south. If we were lucky we might be able to travel between the two of them before they collided. Hadn't I seen this movie already? I took the helm to give him a break and kept us on course. Jaden woke the captain and informed him of our dire situation. Strong coffee was brewed and the captain looked at the readout and cursed. It was far too late to change course the best we could hope for was that he were fast enough to make the passage before the two weather fronts merged. The good ship Dunwich raced before the collision and we kept the news from the students. I did confide in Felicia when she came up to check on me. She cursed when she looked out at the sea.

The first hint of dawn was on the horizon. To the port side of the ship the angry northern gale could be seen with its flashes of lightning and massive waves. To the starboard was the wall of hurricane May closing in on us. In front of us was a relatively smooth sea and we raced forward with every ounce of speed the old ship could muster. On our side the Dunwich had just been refitted with the latest engines and her hull and keel were in pristine condition. The crew was skilled and had weathered everything the northern Atlantic could throw at a sailor. There were a few that crossed themselves and prayed that our passage remained free of inclement weather. It was inevitable I suppose that the students would wake and look outside. They were ordered to stay out of the way of the crew. They recorded the event on their smart phones and saved them until they could be uploaded to their social media sites. I held onto the wheel until the captain ordered me to take a break. I sat with the others and told them we would be fine. I was confident in the captain and the crews' abilities to outrun the storms.

In the end it was the western progress of the storms that saved us in the end. As they headed for landfall we were able to scoot between to safety. The captain broke out a sealed bottle of scotch and took a healthy swig of it. He put it away and began barking more orders. The ship made for the Strait of Gibraltar from there we would be in spitting distance of Cairo. After the terror of the not so perfect storms the rest of the voyage was a calmer affair and I spent my time with Carol practicing my Arabic. I had learned weeks before that she had gotten language lessons so that she could communicate with the locals. I thought it was a brilliant idea. We practiced whenever we got the chance. I told the captain if we were going to be in Egypt for months it would be easier to speak the language. He appeared relieved but I understood his uneasiness. Terrorism was a real issue and what better disguise to enter the Middle East than an archaeological dig. I assured him we were there to make history by digging up ancient ruins. The next two days were the proverbial smooth sailing. We sighted the Strait of Gibraltar and I thought it was the most magnificent thing I had ever seen. To the north one continent and to the south another, I was lucky to see it with my own eyes.

"Some of the best sport fishing in these waters doctor," one of the sailors said.

"Too bad I will be too busy digging in the sand," I told him.

"Pity, maybe I can talk the captain into wintering here or maybe I'll take my leave and find some fine woman on Sardinia to take my mind off things for a while."

"Good luck," I said as we neared the last leg of our ocean voyage.

By nightfall we were docked on the Isle of Sardinia. We all disembarked except the three men hired by Felicia to guard the ship. They would stand watch while we enjoyed some solid ground beneath our feet for a few hours. We found a local café and ordered food and drink and enjoyed the cool crisp evening. The students uploaded their pictures of the two storms we had sailed through. They went viral in no time at all. We had a following and we hadn't even lifted a single trowel of sand yet. I bought a round of drinks and we toasted to our good fortune. We walked around the town of Cagliari and I fell in love with the villas that looked out over the crystal clear sea, the orchards of olive trees and most of all the old world charm. I would come back here after the dig was over. Carol was enjoying the gorgeous view of the night sky but Felicia was ever vigilant. I think it was all those years being a cop.

"Relax, we are fine," I said but she snorted.

"We are being followed. There are five of them and they are bold as brass." Felicia whispered.

"Maybe we should just be friendly and say hi," I said as I suddenly reversed course and approached the group. "Lovely evening..."

"Who are you," one of the girls in the group asked.

"I am an archaeologist," I said. "And these are my companions, who are you?"

"So you dig up the dead?" one of the guys asked ignoring my question.

"Yeah, but they've been dead for a couple thousand years," I added trying to figure out what was wrong with this picture. "I doubt they mind."

The joke fell short and they looked offended. I looked at the group and was glad for those classes I had taken in anthropology. The heavy silence actually worked in my favor. I could hear the pounding of Felicia's heart in that ample bosom of hers. Carol appeared unphased but it was the strange heartbeats of the strangers that drew my full attention. One of the girls appeared to be Greek while the other was obviously of Celtic descent with her dark red hair and fierce blue eyes. The men were Slavic, Anglo-Saxon and the last had me stumped. He had the dusky skin of an Italian but his eyes had a definite Asian shape to them. They obviously weren't related and yet they shared certain traits that had me scratching my head. The high cheekbones, elegant straight noses and prominent brows were just the most obvious characteristics they had in common. They were all quite handsome and possessed a beauty that was almost bewitching. It was the slow heartbeat that raised my concern for these individuals.

"Do you hear it?" I asked Felicia but she shook her head.

"Their hearts beat so slowly," Carol said in her child-like fashion. "...and they are so pretty."

That spooked the group of youths to no end. They let out a collective gasp and switched to a dialect I had never heard spoken. I had read snippets of the tongue in several of the tomes given to me by the Widow. The more they talked the more I picked up on. I smiled when one of the girls called me handsome. My smile faded when the Italian said that we smelled unusual. I suspected I knew what he meant. They could smell the effects of the elixir on us. Felicia looked at me and had that expression of should we leave or should she hurt them. I gestured for her to be calm. I brought my left hand up and stroked my chin showing off my ring with the Elder Sign upon it. That sent all five of them into full panic. They fled at a speed that was astonishing to witness.

"What got into them," Carol asked frowning.

"My ring," I said and we continued our walk.

"Who were they... hell, what were they?" Felicia asked.

"The language was an ancient derivative of Sumerian. No I don't speak it; I recognized it from the books I have been reading. As to what they were that is anyone's guess. I think we should collect the others and return to the ship."

"I agree," Felicia replied and we wandered to the local pubs and inns.

By midnight everyone was tucked in and I stood watch for what was left of the night. Every so often I caught eye shine that I normally would have thought belonged to feral cats. But a part of me felt it was one or more of that group keeping us under observation. I climbed up to a higher elevation on the ship and kept watched. I had to give it to them, they were patient. The people watching the ship never moved until the first hints of dawn. They melted away like shadows never to return. Well that was interesting. The captain found me in my little perch and cursed me out well like a sailor. I hopped down and told him the ship had been under surveillance. He didn't like that, no not one bit. He ordered the anchor raised and we were off on our last leg of the journey to Egypt. We reached Alexandria by early afternoon. We dropped anchor and prepped the equipment for transportation to the shore. It took several trips but we did have one pleasant surprise. There were four large trucks waiting for us and it was Carol who clapped her hands together and with a wave of her hands she let out a thunderous tada.

It was only after the trucks were loaded and we were on our way that Carol revealed her not so little secret. The trucks had been provided by her Uncle Terry. When I asked what Uncle Terry did for a living she let out a giggle and then thought it over. She finally said he was a researcher even though he didn't really need to work anymore. That's when I noticed the new watch on her wrist. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before and appeared to be custom made. When she saw me staring at her wrist she covered it up. I frowned and fell silent. It didn't take long for her to break.

"Fine... you party pooper," she said making her frowny face. "He works for Numenor Technology. Well actually he is one of the founding members of Numenor."

I almost slammed on the breaks of the truck. He's that Uncle Terry! That meant that the watch she was wearing had one of those artificial intelligences in it. Now it all made sense, the upgrade to the university's planetarium and the A.I. that ran it. I was guessing the vault in the basement was another gift for the college she was attending. Suddenly Carol was bouncing in her seat and pointing out to sea. I slowed the truck as I saw the massive ship anchored off shore. It was the size of a warship but the lines screamed a massive yacht. I squinted and caught the name of the vessel near the stern, Numenor. That was Nick Shaw's personal vessel. I wondered if Terry had borrowed it or just talked his buddy Nick into sailing to Egypt. That kind of display of wealth was really intimidating. I couldn't even begin to imagine how much the thing cost and that doesn't even take into account upkeep. Damn it was a pretty ship!

It took us a few hours to drive from Alexandria to Cairo. At some point we picked up a military escort and arrived with enough attention to spark everyone's interest. We parked the trucks outside the Cairo Museum. We were set to meet the curator and have a tour of the facilities and then onto a dinner in our honor, thank you Uncle Terry! We disembarked and were led up the stairs and as we neared the entrance two figures stepped out. One man I didn't recognize, however, the man standing next to him was world famous. He was the First Minister of Antiquities and a talented Egyptologist in his own right. I was speechless as I shook hands with the minister. He was all smiles as he acted as our guide. As we walked around the museum he spoke highly of my friends in high places. I was a bit confused and told him so.

"I got an email from a mutual friend," the elderly man said. "She is the Widow of a dear friend of mine."