The helicopter banked north and the droning sound of its rotor blades quickly disappeared. Sam secured his backpack and looked at Zara.
She asked, “Do you have a plan?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Now we find the Nostradamus equation.”
Zara laughed. “Yeah, good plan!”
Sam stared at the island. Tom had left them on the western side of the island. The one that was mostly flat, while the opposite end had a small mountain in the middle. The entire island was a little less than a mile, end to end. Maybe a quarter of a mile wide. Two perfectly circular islands, standing side by side, with a joining partition of sandstone approximately ten feet in length, making both circles form into a single island.
The ground was mostly covered with white sand. Despite coming from the ocean bed, thirty feet below, there was limited seaweed or other signs of plant life. The occasional fish could be seen dying where it lay stranded. Crustaceans, disoriented by the strange turn of events, left their homes and wandered idly in search of the ocean. There was a strong smell of sea life in the air. It wasn’t yet offensive, because the island hadn’t been out of the water long enough for the sea creatures to die and start to decompose, but in a day or two they were going to need a mask just to breathe on this island.
They walked in a broad counterclockwise circle around the western circumference of the island. The edge of the island was nearly ten feet out of the water and was formed by hardened sand. Sam guessed it would be hard to climb up again if he fell over the side. The vertical sand banks that marked the edge of the island had already started to break away and fall into the water below. Sam felt the future was already hurrying him along, as the ocean began the tedious process of reclaiming the island.
A large chunk of hardened sand fell into the water below. Sam stepped backwards, making a mental note not to get so close to the edge again. “I won’t get that close again.”
Zara asked, “Do you think it’s all sand?”
“The island?”
“Yeah.”
Sam stared at the white sand that formed the western circle. It looked like a postcard of a deserted island. “No. The edge might be hardened sand, but sandcastles don’t survive in the ocean. This place must have the geology of hardened stone at its core.”
Once they reached the other end they cut right through the middle of the island and stopped where thousands of polished black stones were layered on top of each other to form a connective tissue between the two circles of the island. Each stone was identical in shape and color. They looked out of place between the sandy circular islands. More like someone had meticulously layered each one precisely where it now sat.
Sam squatted down and picked up one of the stones. It was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, but heavy like a dumbbell, which meant it was most likely solid all the way through. The stone had been polished so perfectly he could see his own reflection.
“It’s obsidian,” Sam said.
Zara picked up another stone to examine it. “Obsidian doesn’t belong anywhere near here.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No. Obsidian is a naturally occurring volcanic glass. It’s formed when lava, extruding from a volcano, cools rapidly with minimal crystal growth. Most often found in obsidian lava flows, where the chemical composition of silica is extremely high, making the molten liquid extremely viscous.”
“Come again?” Sam grinned at her erudite explanation.
“It means the liquid moves slowly because it’s thick and gluey, making it difficult for crystals to form. The end outcome of this process is that obsidian is hard and brittle. It fractures in sharp edges popular throughout the stone age for cutting and piercing.”
“Okay. So what makes you so certain it doesn’t belong here?”
“Because I’ve studied ancient Egyptians extensively, and they went to great lengths to find obsidian for weapons and tools. They had to trade for it because the only two places in the Mediterranean where the stone was found was in Turkey and Italy. And in both cases, they weren’t found on the coast.”
“Which means?”
Zara placed her tongue between her teeth, and then smiled. “These stones were intentionally moved here.”
Chapter Ninety-One
Unable to find any purpose or meaning to the stones, Sam walked across the obsidian bridge and onto the eastern side of the island. He and Zara followed the coast in a clockwise direction. Like the western circle, the bank was formed with hardened sand. That sand was now slowly being eroded by the constant lapping of the Mediterranean Sea.
They circled the coast of the eastern island by one thirty in the afternoon. The coast appeared almost identical to the western side of the island. It formed a perfect circle that matched the exact diameter of its western sibling. With the exception of a few misplaced and sorry-looking sea creatures, the ground was barren. Its white sand made the perfect tourist’s picture of a deserted island.
Where the eastern side changed from its western sibling, was in the center of the island. Unlike its counterpart, which was completely flat, this side had a small mountain at its center. They cut into the center with a northerly track until they reached the base of the mountain.
“You see anything?” he asked.
Zara looked upwards for a few moments before answering. “I see a deserted island and a small mountain.”
“Seem strange to you?”
“Everything here seems strange to me,” she said. “Was there anything in particular you were referring to?” Her response was curt, and just shy of pugnacious.
He glanced at her. “You do know I’m here to help you right?”
“Sorry. I’m just pissed off, because I feel like this entire thing is one big game that Nostradamus is playing with me. Nothing makes scientific sense. If he's just playing a game, I resent it. And if he wasn’t playing a game, and his visions were correct, then that means the future is going to do all it can to stop me from finding the Nostradamus Equation.”
Sam turned his glance to the mountain. “It’s okay. I don’t understand it any better than you do. Do you want to know what I see?”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“The mountain appears entirely made up of hardened sand.”
Sam leaned against the base of the steep mountain and pressed his fingers deep into the sand. The mountain resisted for a moment and then gave way to the pressure exerted by his fingers. It was hardened sand. But sand none the less. He looked at her face. She looked intrigued. But there was something else in her face, too. She appeared to be enjoying herself, like this was the real reason she followed her father’s footsteps into archeology.
He asked, “Have you ever heard of a sandcastle surviving once the sea swallowed it?”
Zara tried to push her hand through the hardened sand. “I know a lot about sand, actually. I grew up in the Sahara. It doesn’t behave like this underneath the sea. Maybe the tectonic shift which caused the submarine earthquake pushed the seabed up like this?”
“I don’t think so. This sand looks like it’s been in this shape for years. The lines of the mountain are too rigid for it to be the result of a tectonic shift.”
“So what do you think it is?” Zara asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe it was some sort of man-made structure many years ago. Built with sandstone, the layers of its structure have crumbled and turned back into sand.”
“That’s unlikely, but possible.” Her eyes glanced upwards. “There’s only one way to find out. Shall we climb it?”