Indiana Jones and the Immortal Man
by Steve McCrary
The wind swept over the towering green trees as an ancient monolithic temple loomed before Indiana Jones. He had come here for something, something Marcus had told him about. The idol of Tuskunda, that was it. He entered.
It was all too easy. The idol, with the gleaming stone expression, the hypnotic eyes, was sitting right on a stone pedestal, ready for grab.
That's just it. Too easy.
He slowly walked towards the idol, watching for any traps. finally, after seeming to walk in slow-motion, he made it to the pedestal.
He immediately recalled his adventure with another idol, just before that Ark of the Covenant quest. Then the idol was balanced by weight. He stared at the idol, scratching his chin with thought. The pedestal seemed to only be made of ancient stone, stripped of any and all traps.
On a whim, he quickly grabbed the idol, and looked around for anything moving. After reasurrance, he started to slowly walk back.
It was about halfway from the entrance he had used when he felt the ground leave.
Immediately, he pulled out his whip, and wrapped it onto a torch on the wall above. Snakes. Snakes were at the bottom of the pit.
He huffed as he started to climb the whip, and something happened.
The whip started to stretch. Not much at first, but eventually it was growing longer. Indy started to climb some more, but it was of no use. as he climbed, the whip simply grew faster.
It was like bubble gum, or silly putty. the whip stretched, until finally, it gave out, and Indiana Jones was suddenly prepared for his last breath.
He fell into the pit of Snakes, and suddenly, blackness returned.
Suddenly, he was at his house in Boston, in his bed.
He had been dreaming again. He suddenly remembered that he was no longer an archaeologist. He was head of Barnett college. It was 1947.
He sat up. Sweat rolled from his forehead. Last night's dream was the most realistic one to date. He got up, and put on some clothes. In a matter of minutes, he was ready for another day.
The dust settled after the excavators had finished digging. It was hot, the hottest day of the year in the Tunisian desert. Arthur Manning looked over his find.
"Stand it up," he ordered.
The workers heaved the heavy, black, and stone casket to a vertical position.
Manning walked to the thing, and investigated it.
There was a small, steel piece in the center of the lid. It was a symbol; a symbol composed of two swords over a lightening bolt; in some cultures it would mean a warning: do not open. It was also chained, so it seemed, to keep a spirit inside.
"Open it," Manning commanded. The workers responded with crowbars, slowly opening the huge coffin with grunts and heaves. The chains were broken, and the stone set away.
There was something inside it: a knight's armor.
"Mid-fourteenth century European, I'd say." Manning commented.
"The middle ages?" another, younger archaeologist asked.
"Yes, Perrick. The middle ages," Manning repeated. He reached out to touch the suit of armor, and the thing suddenly sprang to life.
The first to succumb to the knight's grasp was Parrick, the younger one. The knight held him by the throat, and squeezed. After a second, it threw the youth about two meters away from the location.
Manning was terrified. He ran. The knight responded with amazing speed, and grabbed him by the shoulders. Manning let out a terrified cry. The knight pulled him up to his height, Manning's feet nearly four feet above the ground, and set him mere inches away from his face. The knight pulled up his head covering, revealing wild and frightening eyes, and the first part of speech the knight had probably uttered in centuries came out as a cryptic whisper:
Manning suddenly stopped. "E--excuse me?" he said.
"Where?" the knight repeated. "Where and when am I?"
Manning faltered. "Y-you are in the Tunisian desert--. n-n-nineteen-fourty-seven!"
The knight dropped Manning to the ground, and started to walk.
"Excuse me," Manning called," W-where do you suppose you are going?"
The knight laughed at this question. "You mean you don't know?"
"'Tis Quite simple," the knight answered. "To overthrow Europe."
Indiana Jones, or Henry Jones, as he wanted to be called, sat down in his desk. Papers stacked on the wooden work area were covered with thin layers of dust, all of them curriculum approval forms.
He sat back in his chair. He had already retired from archaeology, after Marcus Brody died.
Marcus' position was the one Indiana held now. After he died, Indy felt a sort of duty for Marcus, to pick up where he left off.
As it turned out, Brody had left quite a bit to pick up. The college grounds needed cleaning, the museum needed re-organizing, and at first, Indy thought he simply couldn't put up with it, but, after time, he came to accept his newfound job.
He had held this position for nearly six years now.... four years after the holy grail adventure.
That adventure with his father was a turning point in his life. He realized that he had never spent as much time with his parent, though most of it was his fault. After that quest, he had managed to talk to his dad more often.
Of course, he had never thought that his father would end up in intensive care.
He visited him often, and comforted him in the fact that he wasn't going to die. Jonses live forever. That's what he had said to his father.
But now, sitting at his desk, he felt that he was rotting from within. He was nearly 56 now. He felt that he had lived his life to the fullest. Or, so he thought.
An Englishman was standing before his desk. He was tall, thin, and wore a gray suit. Indiana didn't know how long he had been there, but obviously, he needed to talk.
"Yes?" Indiana finally answered.
"My name is Arthur Manning, Dr. Jones." The man said. "I need help."
"And what sort of help are you looking for, Mr. Manning?"
The man sat down in a chair, facing Indiana. "Your help, Dr. Jones." He sat back, admiring the room and its artifacts from Indiana's numerous adventures. "You see, you're quite the archaeologist, am I right? Of course." He turned to Indy. "My team and I in the Tunisian desert have found something, something of unimaginable power. Are you familiar with the Arthurian Legends, Dr. Jones?"
"I know that they relate greatly to the holy grail."
"Very good, Doctor. And are you aware of the Legend of Sir Almric?"
"Yes, Sir Almric was a knight of the round table. After the arrival of the holy grail to Camelot, He stole, and drank from it. He was given eternal life, or so the legend says."
"Yes, so the Legend says. And what would you say if I told you I have found Sir Almric?"
"I'd say you're insane."
Manning stood up., and began to walk around Indiana's office slowly, admiring the artifacts on display. "And why?" His face turned back to Indiana sharply. "Why would you consider me insane? Do you not believe in hokey religions, Dr. Jones? Was it not you who actually found the holy grail?"
"That was a different situation, Manning. There was actual evidence of the holy grail. There is no evidence on Sir Almric."
"What is this about Almric?"
"Well, my archaeological team and I thought you might be interested to hear this."
Manning then told Indiana of his encounter with the knight in the Tunisian desert.
"Uh huh. And the Ark of the Covenant is in my dresser drawer."
Manning suddenly became furious at this, and quickly leered over Indiana, his hands on the edges of the desk. "Dr Jones, I have no time for this! The man plans to overthrow Europe, and with his immortality and strength, there won't be many that can stop him!"
"If we can't stop him, what can we do, then?"
Manning calmed himself. "We must destroy the Holy grail. Iskenderun must be where he is headed, to take make sure that the holy grail is secure. If someone were to throw the holy grail past the great seal, the immortality of Sir Almric would be broken, as would his plans."
"Now, wait. How is it possible that Almric is alive? I mean, I drank from the holy grail, but passed out of the seal. I'm not immortal, so he can't be, either."
"That building wasn't even established when Almric drank. Arthur and his knights locked him up in a stone casket, and buried him in the desert we now know as Tunisia."
There was a long pause. Indiana sighed, and then stood up. "You know that I'm retired from this sort of thing."
Manning smiled. "Please, Dr. Jones. You can surely make exceptions."
"Never thought I'd say this again," Indiana said with a smile, "...but it sounds like fun."
The wind rustled at an airport while Indiana Jones was trying to make a phone call.
"Y-yes, dad!" Indiana yelled over the noise of the nearby plane. "Yes, dad, I'll write you as soon as we make it to Iskenderun! Dad, you're not gonna die! Bye, dad!"
Indiana hang up the phone, and made his way to the plane.
He was, of course, wearing his usual fedora, jacket, and with him was his whip and his colt .45. He was prepared.
As he stepped aboard the plane, he noticed the cargo hold was filled with boxes. Being suspicious about this whole trip, he investigated.
The boxes were more like wooden crates. He walked through, looking at the different symbols on the boxes. Most said stuff like "British Cargo", or "Fragile". It was after about four boxes that he noticed something strange.
One of the boxes near the back had a piece of paper taped to it. Nothing was written to the paper, and he tore it off.
Underneath was the eagle crest and spherical shape with the swastika sign; it was the symbol of everything non-american. everything evil; everything gone. It was the symbol of the Nazis. It was the last thing that Indiana saw before darkness devoured him.
The plane was still on the runway as Arthur Manning stood over the unmoving, knocked out, "great" Indiana Jones. A pilot walked up, looked at the body, and turned to Manning.
"What should we do with him?" The man asked in german.
"Tie him to the outside of the plane." Manning responded, also in German. "With luck, he'll fall off, and we'll have Dr. Jones out of our way. If he doesn't, we'll simply take him to the grail to the the glory of Sir Almric."
After Almric takes over Europe, Manning thought, The Third Reich will rise again.
Indiana woke up feeling like he had been run over by a tank. He then realized that his situation was worse than that.
He suddenly felt wind over his face, and looked around. He was tied to the aft fin of the plane.
He thought, his lighter would do no good in this wind. He pulled at the ropes. One of them snapped. He then he then started to untie the others. Nazis never did know how to tie ropes.
After untieing the third, he accidentally fell over the side of the plane. The rope on his right hand was still holding, though. He had something to work with.
He tried to climb back up, but it was too hard for him.
He then noticed the door on the side of the plane, and decided to swing towards it. He started, back and forth, until he made it, and grabbed onto the side of it. Locked.
There was nothing left to do but hurdle himself into the door, and hope it smashed. He used the side of the plane to steady himself, and he then ran toward the door, and let go. The rope sent him crashing through the airplane door.
The people inside were not prepared. He punched out two officers, and then was going for the cockpit, when he noticed Manning trying to escape.
He caught him by his shirt collar. "No way, Arthur. If I go down, you go with me."
Manning cowered down, away from the parachutes.
Indy headed for the cockpit. It was empty. Set on Autopilot... for the nearest mountain.
"Manning, we've gotta get out of here!" Indiana yelled to the back room.
"All fine and well with me, Doctor!" Manning yelled back, wimpishly.
Manning stepped into the cockpit. "D-do you know how to fly this thing??"
One of the wings barely tapped the side of a mountain.
Indiana thought, then looked at the numerous boxes in the hold.
"That's it, Arthur!"
"The crates! They're putting too much weight on the plane! If we get rid of them, we might have a chance!"
Indy ran to the back of the plane, and opened the aft hatch. He started pushing boxes out the back.
"No!! You can't do that!! Those are priceless antiquities!"
"Look, would you rather die with luggage, or live with none?"
Manning sighed, and stood there helplessly.
"Don't just stand there!" Indy huffed as he pushed one of the crates."Help me!"
Manning rushed, and started to push as many crates off as he could. After a few seconds, all the crates were gone.
Indy rushed to the cockpit, and immediately turned off the autopilot, then started to steer up. The plane's wings graced two of the mountain tips as it ran uncontrollably between two of the peaks. The tips of both wings suddenly came off.
"Well, I don't think we need to worry about the wings anymore, Arthur!" Indy yelled. "Any parachutes?"
"T-the pilots used them when they abandoned us!"
"Wonderful. I'm having a great day."
Indy rushed to the back, and looked around for anything. Nothing at all. If the plane kept heading where it was headed, it would explode.
He rushed back to the cockpit, and engaged the landing gear.
"Are you crazy?? There's nowhere to land!" Manning yelled at him.
"Would you rather end up in pieces?"
Manning then decided to shut up.
Indy pulled up as hard as he could. He was able to engage the flaps, and did so. The plane slowed down, then hit a clearing in the middle of the mountains. It started careening on the ground until it finally came to a rough stop. Indy grabbed his whip, gun, holster, and fedora before getting out, Manning running quickly behind him.
They made it about six meters away from the plane before sparks hit the gas, and it exploded. Flames rose like a skyscraper from the wreckage, smoke billowing into the heavens.
Manning looked at Indy, then started to run. Indy caught him by the collar.
"Wait just a minute, Manning." Indy said. "I want to know exactly what you are doing."
Manning sighed, then looked at Indy with wild eyes. "I'm not afraid to say it, Dr. Jones! I did it for the glory of the Reich!"
"Oh, great, another Nazi."
"Listen to me! When Almric overthrows Europe, the Germans will be the conquering nation! Don't you see? He has revealed to me his vision! The Nazi parties hiding after the war now will be born again! Germany will--"
"Shut up, Manning. I hate Nazis. Do you hear me? They've caused enough trouble in my life. I don't even know why I should let you live."
"Simple, Jones. I'm the only one that can stop Sir Almric."
"I can convince him to cower down."
Indy sighed. "Well, it's unlikely we'll even get to Iskenderun now. Do you see any--"
Indiana thought he saw something past the mountain. He walked to the side of the mountaintop. Below him was the Canyon of the Crescent Moon.
"Well, seems like we won't need to make a big trip anyway."
Almric stood before the momentous temple. One-hundred miles he had walked to get to his destination, but he was finally here.
He walked inside, everything therein resembling the architecture that Arthur and his knights mostly used. He remembered nothing. He had been buried alive before the plans of this place even took shape.
He walked through the pathway seemingly gaurded by two statues of lions. After walking a few feet, blades suddenly sprang to life, and cut his arm off. He looked at it for a few seconds, seemingly pleased that he was temporarily injured, for his arm regrew. The healing power of the grail had helped him for centuries. He smiled.
The next path was the knight's twisted way of protecting the grail. He simply ran through, breaking some stone tiles as he did so. He didn't fall in, because of his speed.
Then came the "invisible" rock pathway. He walked on this also.
He had made it.
Indy stared at the huge fortress. "This is it." Memory whipped back, to nine years ago. He knew just what to do.
He walked inside. "Stay here," He ordered Manning. He did so.
The penitent man will pass. The words echoed in Indy's head as he made his way through the blades. This was an easy task now, because he had done it before, and remembered it so well.
The path of God. Only in the footsteps of his word will he proceed. "Alright," Indy whispered to himself."Jehovah, in Latin, begins with an I." He made his way through the path of God, and accendentally went through a C.
Indy was surprisingly calm, and whispered the Latin equivelent of I messed up: "Mea Culpa. Mea Maxima Culpa."
The test of faith. Indy remembered how hard it was with this one. He knew now, though, that there was definitely a horizontal pillar of rock, cleverly blended in with the rest of the rock. He walked across.
Finally. The room of the holy grail.
The knight was old. That was the first thought to come to Almric's brain.
The knight looked up, and a look of fright fell over his face. "Why are you here? If it is to destroy me, you have come to the wrong place, for I have drank from the grail."
"Obviously. You see, my friend, I've come to--"
"If you knew anything, you would know that you are no friend of mine!" The old man spoke these words with as much power as he could muster.
"Oh, yes, I remember now. You were the one to rat on me." Almric turned to Ector. "You always were the King's toy."
Just then, a strangely dressed man walked in.
"Wow. You must be Almric." The man said.
"Yes, impudent fool, I am Sir Almric." He then turned to the grails. "There are so many." He turned his head to Ector. "Clever boy, but my memory isn't that bad. I still remember the simpleness of the grail. The cup of our Lord Jesus Christ."
He walked over to the true grail, and picked it up. "Yes...." He dipped it into the pool of water, was about to drink from it again, until something grabbed it and pulled it away.
Indiana Jones was afraid. The knight was huge, seemingly stronger than the German Gestapo put together. He had already taken the grail with his whip.
"Hello again, Knight."
The knight smiled at Indy. "Hello, young knight."
"I must destroy the grail, if you permit me to."
"To get rid of this fiend, of course. It is a small price to pay for the safety of humanity."
Almric stared at the knight in rage, then took his sword out, and engaged in a battle with him.
Indy stared as two legends from human history battled for life...or death.
"Go!" The knight yelled.
Indy ran to throw the grail past the great seal.
Almric wished to end this quickly. He held Ector in place as his sword touched the tip of his chin.
"Are you afraid to die, Ector?" He said.
"For the greatness of my Lord and sovreign....anything."
"I shall make this quick, Ector. For you."
Almric, with fiendish tenacity, then thrust his sword into the head of Sir Ector, knight of England.
The halls of the fortress echoed with the cries of death. Indiana ran out of the chamber of horrors, stopping before the great seal.
He had picked up a stick of dynamite from the plane, before it had exploded. He strapped it to the grail.
"Might as well destroy it the modern way."
He lit the stick with his lighter, placed it just outside the great seal, and ran.
Manning was standing outside the temple, and after Indy ran out, Manning followed.
Almric was satisfied. He had just killed one of his enemies. Now he had to deal with this other one. He began to walk out when his left arm abruptly fell to the floor, followed by his right hand.
"What?" He asked himself.
His skin started to flake, then fall off. The whole of his right arm had now collapsed. It burst into dust as the whole of Almric's body decayed in a rush.
He fell to the ground, pieces of his dried flesh falling off here and there. With his last breath, he collapsed to the ground, the dust of his remains settling on the stone ground.
Someone had destroyed the grail.
Indiana Jones ran. The blast he had heard was immediately followed by the collapse of the entire building.
"That's it! yahoo!!!" Indy yelled. The building abruptly collapsed in on itself.
Manning looked at the ruins after the dust settled, then looked to Indiana. "Y--you're going to let me live, aren't you?"
"Sure, I'll let you live. You'll live in a Eurpoean jail for conspiring to overthrow the government of Europe."
Manning let out a sigh. "I thought you'd say that."
The books landed on the desk with a heavy thud.
"..so you can see, class, " Indy said as he wrote something on the board," that Victory doesn't always mean you'll walk away with something good. I came out empty-handed from the Canyon. My, ahem, put-away partner Arthur Manning and I learned this."
The bell abruptly rang, ending the session.
As the students filed out, Indy yelled, "Have that essay for me no later than next Friday."
After everything quieted down, Indy sat. He looked at his door, expecting Marcus Brody to come in at any time and ask him about his latest quest. No such luck. Brody wasn't there.
He picked up this week's mail. Among it was a telegram postmarked during the knight incident. It read:
"Dr. Henry Jones, Jr:
We regret to inform you of the passing of your father, Henry Jones, Sr, on May 18th, 1947. He was diagnosed with a terminal heart failure, and passed away at exactly 6:00 P.M.
Indy gasped, and fought back tears. His father, dead. The telegram had chilled him. He read on:
We ask that you be present for the funeral on May 23rd, and the reading of the will on May 29th. If there is any inconvenience, allow us to know. We are deeply sorry about this horrible incident.
Indy threw down the telegram, refusing to read more.
He sat there for about two hours, remembering about his last relative. He could do nothing more.
Then, he got up, and went home.
Indiana Jones considered his father's impact on his life. His father had taught him latin, archaeology... and, as much as Indy wouldn't say it out loud, he taught him self reliance. His father was dramatic amd strong, in more ways than one.
Indiana Jones decided to give up archaeology. He chuckled. That's what I said when Marcus died, and where did it get me?
Placing the subject out of his head, he stepped into his car, and drove home.
Site Author: Micah Johnson
Page Author: Steve McCrary
Created: July 23, 1998
Last modified: July 23, 1998