Okay Day 6 of the challenge and here’s a little fun involving a 41st Century version of a certain famous hat-wearing archaeologist as well as references to The Legend of Adam Caine (Famous Historian and Gorganath if you were paying attention to the book).



Dr. Manner Hills jumped over the fallen pillar.

The ruins of Gorganath had been visited plenty of times before, but this temple hadn’t.

His hat stayed glued to his head, his torn shirt flapping.  The jungle was uninviting, threatening to kill him at any moment as soon as he was outside as it overgrew the temple around him.  The massive stone door ahead was groaning down towards the corridor floor, dust falling all around.

Heaving, and holding onto the prize under his arm, he charged at the door and dove for the gap underneath.

He slid underneath just as the door slammed shut with a crunch.

His head felt a little chillier than before.

He turned to see his fedora trapped under the door.

“Nark!” he cursed.

He didn’t have time to rant and rave as something came out of the trees, rolling towards him.  It was a gigantic rock, smoothed by age.

“I’m gonna kill that lanky historian,” he muttered before running.  “Should never have listened to that green-skinned piece of shicta in the first place.”

He kept swearing and cursing as he ran, the rock rumbling closer and closer as he charged down the corridor.  The rock smashed against the walls, barely an inch clearance.  It crashed through random vegetation that had grown up from the floor and smashed already broken and worn vases and jars.

It came faster and faster, as he belatedly realised he was running down a slight incline.

The door ahead began grinding down just like the previous one.

His legs were hurting from the effort, his lungs close to collapse.

He was so unfit.

He was only metres from the door, and the rock was inches from squashing.

He took a deep breath and dove, slamming to the floor and sliding along the stone.  The door ground to a halt just as he was underneath, and the prize skittered away.  He couldn’t move fast enough.  The rock banged into the door.

Hills opened his eyes slowly.

He was still alive.

He breathed a massive sigh of relief and edged out from under the jammed door.  The prize, a small wooden box twice the size of his fist, was undamaged by the fall.  He opened it, and found a parchment inside that looked suspiciously recent.

He groaned as he opened it up.

On it were words in Terran Standard printed from a computer.

Sorry, love M’Der Tr’n, Famous Historian.

6 - Empty raiders of the lost ark scriptshadow article first 10 pages

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