Fall, 1958
Marshall College, Connecticut
Being Associate Dean wasn't all it was cracked up to be. There was less teaching and more business-type junk. Arranging budgets, supervising curriculums, and so on and so forth. The title was great, for sure, but it sure as Hell wasn't teaching.
Henry Jones, Jr. scribbled away during the late hours of a Monday night, penning his signature to a bunch of useless documents. It was during his final flick of the wrist that he noticed a rather crumpled piece of paper lying underneath a stack of papers. It was a telephone number scrawled in practically illegible handwriting. The puzzle solver in Indiana Jones made him realize he would not go home until he had called the number, or at least find out who had left it.
" " Indy leaned back in his vinyl chair and took off his glasses. It had been a long and wholly unproductive day.
"Hello?" Someone finally said. They sounded old, and slightly agitated.
"This is Dr. Henry Jones from Marshall College. I seemed to have been given your phone number by an anonymous stranger." Indy began, his interest heightening. Nothing like a good mystery to perk up one's mood.
"Ah, yes. Dr. Jones. I ran into your colleague a few days ago, one Harold Oxley by name. Let me first explain who I am, however. Dr. Les Steinberg from the Boston University History Department.
Oxley is an old friend of the family and I had heard about his journey to South America last summer and wondered if he'd be interested in another. He politely declined, but he dropped your name in the conversation and recommended I tell you of my discoveries. That paper you saw was from me, I'm afraid. I certainly didn't get my doctorate in writing."
"What exactly did you discover, Dr. Steinberg?"
"All in good time. Would you like for me to stop by for lunch tomorrow? I'm in the neighborhood."
Indiana Jones ended the conversation some time later and realized he really had nothing better to do. A short, voluntary leave of absence would cause no harm, surely. And if he was to travel to South America again, he could be sure that Marion would not want to get involved.
"Henry " Marion began, scolding him. She had already changed out of her work clothes (i.e. a dress) and was back in slacks and a blouse. Even on coming back to civilization and Sears and Roebuck, the woman refused to conform to the fashion norms of the day.
"What? Do you think I would have let you come to Akator if you weren't already there?" Indiana Jones said in his best furious voice. It was a front, of course. But Marion wasn't buying it.
"Henry, listen. Didn't we agree before we got married that we would go on excavations together? If you go, I go, remember? We're bound by God, here!"
"Marion, I don't even know anything about it, yet. I'm meeting the guy for lunch tomorrow. And no, I never agreed to take you with me anywhere. You made that statement and I didn't respond. You took my silence as agreeing with you, so how is that my fault?"
"Jones, you really are-"
"Hey, lay off. Jeez, how's a guy supposed to get any sleep around here?" Mutt stood in the doorway in his jeans and leather jacket. Indiana Jones temporarily shifted his focus.
"You sleep in that stuff?"
"No. I just got home." Mutt replied.
"It's almost one o' clock. You're a few hours past curfew, kid." Dr. Jones crossed the distance between them with a heavy frown on his face. Mutt was nonplussed.
"Mutt, dear, can you try to be better about making curfew?"
"Sure." Mutt said, going upstairs to his bedroom. Indy's lips disappeared beneath a tight grimace.
"There. No need to get into an argument." Marion said, stepping in for Mutt once again. It was getting to be a common occurrence.
"How's he supposed to start following rules if you don't give him boundaries, Marion?"
"Don't patronize me, Jones. If you want to go off on a dig somewhere, go ahead. Maybe it's best that we spend some time away from each other."
Indiana Jones sighed and realized this wasn't where he wanted the conversation to go. But he didn't know how to change its course now that it was already headed for a meltdown.
"Listen, Marion. It's not you." He began. The Great Doctor Jones could do a lot of things, but opening up to people was certainly not one of them. Marion had been frustrated by but had become used to his guardedness. There was always a thick wall there disguised by facts and a wry sense of humor.
Even though they'd been married nearly a year, it dismayed Marion to realize that Indy was just as emotionally distant as ever.
"I know. We can pick this up later. I'm tired." She said, going into the bathroom to change. Indy was completely dumbfounded. Marion was the kind of girl to go down in flames, not to give up the fight before anything was really said.
"This isn't over, Marion." Indiana Jones said petulantly.
She sincerely hoped it wasn't.
It was a beautiful morning in suburbia. The sun was shining gaily, people were going to work whistling, and children were outside playing on perfectly watered lawns. Mutt groaned aloud and shoved his head further under the pillow to drown out the sounds of euphoria outside. He'd had a late night, after all.
It was almost nine in the morning and Mutt was skipping class. Again.
The older Jones was already at school, and so was Marion, having gotten a job in the Public Relations Department of Marshall College. No one was home to make sure Mutt was up and dressed.
There was a faroff, distant knock at the door, and Mutt immediately realized it to be his annoying neighbor Kid Moretti. Kid was being paid handsomely to make sure Mutt was out of bed and on his way to class.
"I don't need a babysitter." Mutt grumbled.
It was true, he was missing the graces of Veronica, Sue-Ellen, Diana, Louise, and Charleen, among others, but right about now, sleep was much more important. Mutt turned on his side and began to snore.
Kid sighed to herself and clenched her fists. Mutt was beginning to get really good at ignoring her, which definitely wasn't good for business. Kid had been instructed to use the key for emergencies, so without much hesitation, she felt around for it on top of the door.
She let herself in and wondered if a dollar a day from Mrs. Jones was worth having to argue with the most pretentious, egotistical bastard she'd ever come across in the Spivey Point Sub-Division.
"Henry?" She began, walking up the steps in a hurry. She herself was late for class, but at least she had a good excuse. Mutt was merely lazy.
"Hey, Nosebleed!" Kid said, entering his bedroom. Mutt barely stirred. She supposed she should have blushed or something, entering a boy's bedroom. But it really was no different than her own bedroom. They were both incredibly messy.
"Henry Jones, you've got class. Good God, you're already way late!" Kid said, plopping herself on Mutt's back and sitting on him until he yelled at her.
"Jeez, Angela! I'm awake. My mom isn't paying you to squash me." Mutt said, getting out of bed. He noticed Angela's wide, shocked eyes and he looked down at himself.
"What? I'm wearing boxers." He said. Angela sneered at him and turned around, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Get dressed. I'll wait." She said. Mutt gave a slight laugh and shrugged. He got dressed quickly while her back was turned. She was stubborn as all get out, but she was determined, he'd give her that.
"Done. Are you gonna watch me eat breakfast?" Mutt asked, sliding into his leather jacket. Kid gave a reluctant frown.
"We don't have time for breakfast. Here." She said, handing him a brown paper bag. It was presumably the contents of her lunch. Mutt stared at her questioningly.
"I never eat lunch. It would go to waste anyway." Kid said. Mutt nodded.
Within two minutes they were speeding through the neighborhood on Mutt's new motorcycle. Kid was holding on for dear life and debating whether or not to start taking the schoolbus.
"Hey, Mutt. I missed you in Math. Are you okay?" Veronica wondered, her curly blond hair bobbing up and down.
"Yeah. Just didn't want to go." Mutt said, standing outside his Foundations of Western Civilization class. He was tempted to skip and ask Veronica if she wanted to do the same. He'd have to pass by the administration hall and his father would see him. It wouldn't be worth the effort.
"Well, can I be your reason for getting up in the morning?" Veronica asked with a bright smile. Mutt recalled how it felt getting sat on that morning and began to grin. Veronica seemed satisfied and gave Mutt a kiss on the cheek before she left for class.
Kid Moretti tried to ignore the unflattering noises that her stomach was making. Even though Mutt was a womanizing jerk, she'd somehow grown a soft spot for him. She certainly didn't like him that way. He reminded her of her older brother who'd died a few years ago. Only they weren't really all that similar.
"I should have at least kept the sandwich." Angela mumbled to herself.
"You recall the separate rescue expeditions to the jungles of Brazil to find Percy Fawcett and his two companions, don't you, Dr. Jones?"
"The ancient city of 'Z'? Fawcett was misinformed. The entire region is nothing but cannibals and Amazonian tribes."
"I realize that. But no one ever found out what happened to Colonel Percy Fawcett. Many have tried but most perished in the jungles." Dr. Les Steinberg munched on his salad like an aging bunny as he proceeded to explain the purpose of his impromptu message and luncheon. Jones was mildly impatient.
"The Villas Boas Brothers said they'd spoken to some people from the Kalapalo tribe who admitted to murdering the party for breach of protocol. They forgot to bring gifts." Dr. Jones said in his tongue-in-cheek tone as he took a drink of iced tea. Steinberg gave a laugh.
"Yes. That has been the verified theory for some years. Until now." Steinberg looked around him and leaned a bit closer to him.
"The bones that were found don't belong to Fawcett."
"I don't understand."
"Dr. Jones, there are rumors going around that Percy Fawcett is still alive. In the Suma tribe in the Mato Grosso region of the Amazons in Brazil."
"And why would he be there and not here?"
"Don't be so obtuse, Dr. Jones. There could be several reasons why. Perhaps he's dissatisfied with life in America. The Good Lord knows I am."
"That was in 1925. He'd be 91 years old!"
"I'm not asking you to believe me. I just need someone else to come with me to verify that my findings are correct."
"And you wanted Oxley or myself to come because we're familiar with the indigenous peoples of South America?"
"Please, Dr. Jones. Think of it as paid vacation. I'd compensate you handsomely for your troubles." Steinberg said.
"What's in it for you?" Indy asked. Steinberg set aside his salad and linked his fingers atop the table.
"I'm writing a book, Dr. Jones. About the lost city of 'Z'. And I intend to have some damn good research."