[9] Methuselah Codex: Ignatius' Quest Log (Continued)

Previously: The men quest north, bury fallen shepherds, seek shelter, and behold a wondrous object on the desert plains in the setting sun with the name: “məθjuzələ prɒdʒɛkt: prədʒɛnɪtər.”

Aug 16, 2025

… A growl snatched the words directly from Matthias’ mouth. Like a whirlwind he spun on his heels and was leaping down the way we had come. His discarded cloak billowed like a cast-off shadow…

Quest Log Continued:

A horrid, gut-chilling “hee-haw” bleated from our poor donkey.

Matthias unleashed a stone from his sling. I had not even seen the Devil Dogs, and yet, here he was already releasing his wrath upon them.

I saw then the phosphorescent glow around their eyes and mouths, perhaps three, perhaps more at the base of our camp.

Matthias released yet another stone, and I saw that both had found their mark. Recovering from the initial shock, I began reciting the 23rd Psalm: “Even though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death…”

Sword brandished, Matthias leapt from the high ground and brought the blade down on the final beast. Jerome and I drew up cautiously when suddenly a fourth was discovered dragging the quiet body of Scruffy away. Phosphorescent residue covered the donkey’s neck revealing its throat had been torn out. Jerome must have spied this as well, for in a moment of deluded insanity he made motion as though to attack the beast with his own bare hands.

Matthias forcefully knocked Jerome down and came upon the beast himself, driving his sword through the ribs. Matthias was in full-fledged fury then, for he did indeed wrest the vile dog’s jaw in his hands (though reinforced with leather vambraces) and overbent it like a door hinge. It was ghastly to see with the phosphorescent saliva of the beast covering Matthias.

I thought he was through, but he slipped from concealment a dagger and stabbed the beast repeatedly in the neck.

“Enough!” I yelled. Jerome was still on the ground, terrified. Matthias fell back panting. In the sudden stillness I became aware of Jerome quietly retching.

I held out a cloth to Matthias. “Thank you, Matthias.”

He took the cloth and wiped gore from his face.

“That’s why I’m here.”

Our ass was stone dead. The water gourds, save one, were broken, the water lost to the earth. Our food store of mesquite beans, pemmican, and dried figs were strewn across the earth along with my quest log. Everything was sullied in blood, gore, and the demented glow of the dog’s saliva. None of the food was salvageable. The chest of earth from the Abbey—broken and spilled. Our rebreathers—scattered and torn. However, the incense and lamp were intact, though the oil spilled. The shovels were okay.

Of all the things I hope not to need, I thought to myself as I picked up a shovel.

“We must wedge ourselves deep within the rocks,” Matthias said. “More will be upon us, and—” he looked to Jerome and helped him up. “I’m sorry, Jerome. I couldn’t save him fast enough, but now—”

“It’s my fault,” I said, dejected. “I should not have allowed us to linger on the ridge.”

“T’was extraordinary circumstances. Now we must say bye to our ass, we cannot drag him into the cleft with us.”

Jerome wept a little, but soon regained his composure. We wedged ourselves in and suffice it to say it was a night of hell. No one slept. The growl and cackle of those wretched jackals and the sounds of them tearing our donkey apart sickened us all the night long.

Day Two:

Before sunrise the demonic horde departed.

“Have you known them to strike at dusk?” I asked Matthias.

He only shook his head.

I passed our only water gourd around and implored we all eat the few pieces of hardtack stowed within my cloak. No one had appetite, but we all drank sparingly.

“We have enough water should we journey home... soon. Matthias, will you crest the ridge and spy on our heavenly visitor? Jerome and I will join you momentarily.”

Matthias made his ascent. I looked to Jerome. Brown and purple bags hung below his eyes.

“Let us spend a moment in prayer. We will need the Lord’s wisdom for ourselves today.”

We prayed, yet not long enough, for we were disrupted by the skitter of stone at our feet. Matthias was tossing them towards us. We crept up to join him in discreet vigil.

“There!” he said in an excited whisper. “Do you see?”

There was movement around the object. At first it appeared to be an illusion of shadows, but it was more than that. We watched intently. And then, like the mouth of a fossilized beast, the object opened. Its function appeared to be like a door, perfect in its geometry, though more shapely than a rectangle, for it appeared to have a curve to it as well. Intricate crafting reminiscent of the strange artifacts unearthed in archaeology. And very suggestive of Ezekiel’s wheels within wheels. Both Brother Ambrose and Anselm would love to behold the sight.

I confess, fear of the unknown and foreign gripped my heart, for from the celestial maw descended the likeness of man. He shone white in the morning sun. At first, he appeared to be naked, but for an odd shaping of the head (this being most disturbing and frightful). As our eyes adjusted to the sight from our distance, it became apparent that he was clad in a sort of form-fitting, skintight apparel, and the shape of his head was no more than that of a crown of sorts.

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, men. Whether this be angelic, demonic, or man, God rules over all.”

“Shall we engage?” Matthias asked.

I looked at my companions. “We’re without food and little water. Our ass is dead. Matthias, you’re covered in gore. Jerome—” I didn’t feel the need to point out he was covered in dried vomit— “you’re no better off. Let us observe for a while longer, pray for guidance and wisdom, and return to the Abbey with our intel and lives.”

In short order, two more beings joined the first. Though these figures carried burdens: first a table, which they set up in the shade of their craft. Then they fetched from within totes and placed all this on the table. After a consultation, they began milling around doing God-knows-what. Here a little digging, there a little arm raising with purpose completely lost to us.

“Calisthenics?” Matthias asked. “If so, they don’t seem very orderly or determined. The way they carried themselves, one would think them comfortably at home tending their own personal garden.”

They continued to repeat similar processes: returning to the table, then wandering about again performing a similar task with some new variation and device.

“Sampling,” I said at last. “They are sampling the earth, air, and only God knows what else.”

“So, they are preparing, but for what?” Jerome asked.

His inquiry went unanswered, for at that moment, a small cloud of dust arose to the right of us. We all jumped a little, and Matthias drew his sling as fast as lightning ripples the sky.

A small, hunched, and dark-robed figure of a human, with a trolley, scraped down the ridge toward the celestial beings.

“I’d recognize that ‘curious cart’ anywhere,” I said.

“It’s…” Matthias halted.

“It’s your florist! What in God’s name is she doing here?”

“Shall I overtake her?” Matthias asked.

God help us, I thought in that moment, for it felt very much like we had made a blunder in an opening game of Dominion. It took great effort to loosen my tongue from its dry dwelling. “Yes,” I croaked.

“A quick pace is kept for one so old and bent,” I commented as we jogged along, looking positively foolish with robes bunched up into our belts.

“She knows we are following her,” Matthias said.

“Hail there!” I called. “Wait!”

With a nod of her head directed toward the heavenly chariot, she said something we failed to hear, but she continued and took up a brisk jog herself, pushing the cart before her all the while.

“I don’t trust this woman,” I said quietly to Matthias.

“What shall we do?”

“Overtake her for starters.”

Our long strides brought us to her, but it was too late. The beings had spied our approach and had retreated into their vessel, closing the entry behind them.

“Peace to you, dear woman, you seem determined to meet these new arrivals. Do you know them?”

“We shall see,” is all she whispered.

məθjuzələ prɒdʒɛkt: prədʒɛnɪtər was written bold and clear on a section of its hull. There was no mistaking it: “Methuselah Project: Progenitor.” Whoever or whatever they were, they knew of Methuselah. I held my pectoral cross aloft.

And at the base of this celestial chariot, we waited.