Esteban's Quest

By Nick Iuppa and John Pesqueira

A fireball launches itself from the Arizona desert leaving behind three camels, a magical jukebox, and a five-year-old girl who only speaks Italian. Soon, the nearby town of La Sentencia is reeling from a series of disasters. The copper mine, which supports the town, shuts down leaving most of the population unemployed. Massive sandstorms batter the place. And then Devlin Lucero shows up. He seduces a pretty substitute teacher and then uses her to spread greed, anger, and vengeance everywhere. In the face of all these trials, Esteban Dorantes decides to retrace the steps of his great, great grandfather, who once led a quest to find the Seven Cities of Gold. Aided by the camels, the wisdom of the little girl, and the spirit of the magical jukebox, he hopes to locate a great treasure and bring it back to save La Sentencia. Esteban is accompanied by Ceci Moreno, his old high school sweetheart, the only person in town who doesn't think he's a madman. But Ceci is still in love Gabriel Romo, another dreamer who somehow feels he can bargain with that devil Lucero to save the mine and the town. Wacky, scary and spectacular, Esteban's Quest blends science fiction, Aztec lore, classic horror, and offbeat humor into an unforgettable tale of love, destiny, magic, and redemption.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nick Iuppa
• Release date: Aug 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9780986324161

Nick Iuppa

Nick Iuppa began his career as an apprentice writer with famed Bugs Bunny/Road Runner animator Chuck Jones and children’s author Dr. Seuss. He later became a staff writer for the Wonderful World of Disney. As VP Creative Director for Paramount Pictures, Nick did experimental work in interactive television and story-based simulations. He is the author of Management by Guilt (Fawcett Books 1984 - a Fortune Book Club selection) as well as eight technical books on simulations and interactive media. He lives in Northern California with his wife, Ginny. For more about Nick, visit www.nickiuppa.com.

Book preview

Prologue

The Haboob, a raging wall of wind a mile high and a hundred miles wide, roared across the Arabian Desert. It flattened tall trees, tore smaller ones up by the roots, slashed and bloodied every creature in its path with knife-blades of swirling sand.

Hamud Ansari spotted it coming, felt the stillness before the storm. It was almost as if the little oasis where they had pitched their tents was holding its breath waiting for the deadly onslaught.

In an instant he knew that this was no ordinary Haboob but a hideous beast from some Hollywood sci-fi epic, a monster that tore down homes, swept up humans and animals, and carried them off tangled amid the wreckage it had wrenched from the desert floor.

Guarda il vento ... il muro di vento sporco, cried little Sophia.

The five-year-old girl stood behind Ansari looking at the oncoming storm. Then, she turned and rushed into the tent that stood behind her. It too seemed to be waiting in horrified anticipation for the winds to come and plunder it.

Papà! Guarda il vento ... il muro di vento sporco, she repeated to her father who sat in a chair at the far end of the tent. She grabbed him by his hands, pulled him to his feet, and led him out to see the vision that had so terrified her.

A wall of dirty wind, said her father, Giancarlo. He was repeating the little girl's words in English as they made their way outside. Behind them, Claudia, the girl's mother, followed.

Is there no place safe? she asked when she saw the maelstrom swirling toward them.

Ansari heard her and gestured to another tent that his men had just set up across the little oasis. They had lashed it firmly between three tall palm trees whose trunks stood like the pillars of some great cathedral.

In there, Ansari called, Quick.

Claudia followed Ansari to the fortified structure, as did little Sophia, but not Giancarlo. Instead, he raced back to the first tent to grab the greatest discovery he had ever made. It was a silvery object shaped like a shallow bowl. It had a wide rim etched with strange runic figures, and, inside it, a helicoid pattern spiraled hypnotically to a point that somehow seemed to sing to anyone who stared at it for more than a brief moment.

This was the kind of object that had led Dr. Giancarlo Gianello and his family to this desolate spot. Nine thousand years earlier it had been the home of the ancient Elamites. The noted archaeologist was not about to leave his treasure to the punishing fury of the wind. And so he clutched it to him as he raced out into the storm, which at that moment seemed to pause and gather all its fury just as it was about to descend upon the little encampment.

And then it hit.

Gianello had just reached the fortified tent, had just opened its door, but in doing so, he let in the wildness of the wind. It swirled its razorblade sand through the tent, tore it from the trees, and then swept away the mighty trees as well. It tossed the occupants into the open and tangled them into the flailing fabric of the tent. Then it lifted them all, carrying them away screaming: Ansari, Giancarlo, Claudia, and all the workers… everyone that is except little Sophia.

She lay amid the swirling sands, somehow sheltered by the one massive palm that had not been swept away. She raised her eyes and watched as the killer storm dragged her parents and all that supported them up into the skies and out of sight.

Mamma… Papà, she called, non potete lasciarmi! Vi prego di tornare, per favore!

But, in spite of her pleas, they did leave her behind, and they would not come back.

It was then that the little girl heard something that sounded even more powerful than the wind, louder than the voice of the Haboob… a harsh mechanical drone.

Dio aiutami, Sophia called as she looked up and saw what it was, and her eyes grew wide in spite of the wind.

Dio aiutami, she repeated.

God help me.

Part One

La Sentencia

Chapter 1

Once Upon A Time

For Esteban Dorantes, the feeling that he must lead a search into the unknown had grown stronger and stronger. It was a search, he told himself, that must reach out across time, across oceans, across treacherous mountains, and burning deserts… all to be accomplished by a man who would not fear death.

Today on his 31st birthday it rained, soaking the desert floor and dry mountains with something that tasted of new beginnings. The smell of the Sonoran desert’s wet creosote bushes filled Esteban’s whole body, reminding him of the first moment he understood that there was a great journey he was destined to take. He was ten years old at the time, and his father (a high school history teacher) sat in their small living room with a book in his hand. He was pointing to the picture of a black man, an African, who led the Spanish expedition in search of the Seven Cities of Gold. The black man’s name was Esteban, the same name given to the boy by his father. The black man was also the boy’s great, great grandfather… 20 generations removed.

Esteban understood that the original search for the Golden Cities took place in 1539. Nearly five hundred years earlier. But great searches and great journeys of discovery were still possible in the modern age, he thought … by the descendant of a fabled explorer, who knew in his heart that adventure was his destiny.

Esteban had never made a secret of these ideas, and perhaps that had not been wise. When he first expressed them in high school history class, most of the girls just giggled, but the boys began to make fun of him, to mock him and call him Stevie the Great, Stevie the Conquistador, and eventually, Stevie the Weird.

Esteban took a sip from the large mug of coffee that he’d made for his short drive to work. He was an actuary now… someone who studies and analyzes the possibilities of risk for big insurance companies. He was very good at it too: at spotting trends and predicting what was to come… scientifically. The problem now was that he could clearly see the future of his hometown, La Sentencia, even if no one else seemed able to. And that future was bleak.

How can you be so practical one minute and such a dreamer the next? Ceci Moreno had asked him. She had been his girl for almost all of their senior year in high school. She was lovely, Esteban thought: intelligent, reserved, but with dark fiery eyes that hinted at so much that was hidden away.

Once, when the bullies had cornered him and forced him to answer a barrage of questions about the Golden Cities and how he intended to find them, ready at any moment to smash his face in, Ceci had come along with her prim and proper attitude. She had driven the bullies back with cruel, icy stares that seemed to melt even the toughest of them. In the end, she and Esteban laughed about it, and she let him kiss her, fall in love with her, and take her to the senior ball where her smoldering glances kept all the bad guys away.

Esteban was happy then; he really loved Ceci and enjoyed every moment they were together. He felt his affection for her starting to rise almost above his sense of destiny until he began to think that his dreams might not be anywhere near as important as he once thought they were, and there was something else too.

Sometimes it frightens me… this feeling that there’s something I have to accomplish, he once told Ceci in one of his moments of doubt. It’s not an easy thing to live with.

Poor you, she said with a sympathetic smile and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Then she frowned. Poor me.

I’m sorry, was his response. But in the end, it didn’t matter. When he went away to college, Ceci found a new guy, one more practical and sensible than Esteban. His name was Gabriel Romo. That’s how the first and only real love of Esteban’s life slipped away, leaving him with nothing but his crazy dreams and his love of numbers and patterns.

Oh, there were other girls who found him attractive, in a quirky way. He had, after all, nice features, especially those piercing, dreamer’s eyes. And there was his well-groomed appearance and those neat, well-tailored clothes that he liked so much to wear. The shadow of an occasional mustache came and went with varying degrees of success, and seemed to give him an added sense of interest and even mystery.

The real problem with Esteban’s romantic life was that the other girls just didn’t understand him. Only Ceci had. And now she’d found someone else.

Memories of Ceci made Esteban sigh as he carried his mug of coffee out to the car. He opened the door, slid the mug into the cup-holder, got in, and drove off toward work. He was struggling with himself suddenly, torn between the promise of adventure and the frightening dangers such a journey might bring. The answer he decided as he drove along the familiar stretch of road was preparation. Yes. No matter how daring and brave the adventurer might be, there was so much to do before starting, wasn’t there?

After all, he would have to talk to his employer. This was a very busy time of year. And he didn’t want to burn any bridges just in case things didn’t work out. Maybe October would be a better time to begin his quest or early next year?

Perhaps we should talk about this, said a voice that was toned with a rich, North African accent.

Esteban glanced at the passenger seat and then he smiled nervously. The spirit of his great, great grandfather sat there looking at him expectantly. He wore a loose-fitting, earth-colored robe decorated with geometric patterns. The apparition had visited Esteban before, in his dreams, and now, apparently he was showing up in broad daylight.

Esteban said, I don’t think I’m quite ready, Great Grandfather.

The old man nodded and smiled as he always did. Of course, he said. Life is good. The sun rises and warms us every day.

Esteban nodded. Even in his dreams, his great, great grandfather had always started with something positive. The Conquistadors had called him Estebanico. It was a diminutive name that might be given to a little boy, or to a slave, which is exactly what Estebanico had been. But everyone also knew that Estebanico had been an expert negotiator, skilled at communicating even with people whose culture and ways he did not completely understand. Much of it might have been simply because he started out positively, agreed with those with whom he spoke, and listened very well.

Warmth is comforting, Estebanico said to his great, great grandson. Home is comforting. Adventure on the other hand is a challenge, and challenges are, by their very nature, uncomfortable.

I have no map, Esteban said, no method of transportation through the desert, no companions to travel with me.

So very true, said the old man. And getting started is far more frightening than dreaming.

Yes, exactly.

But challenges and opportunities do not wait. They must be answered before they pass.

I think I have time. Don’t you?

Estebanico smiled. The world is ready now, grandson. All things have moved into position, the universe sings in harmony. This is the moment.

Esteban slammed on his brakes as he barely missed hitting an elderly woman with a shopping cart who had tried to cross the broad boulevard against the light. She looked at him angrily.

Watch where you’re going, crazy man, she yelled. Esteban cringed; everyone in La Sentencia knew about him and his dreams… his crazy dreams.

Did you see that? Esteban asked. Did you hear what she called me?

A prophet is without honor in his own country, said the old man. That’s from your holy book, not mine.

Maybe so, but there’s so much preparation that’s necessary. I need to make lists, gather supplies and provision. And then there are the other members of my expedition. No one has ever taken me seriously and now I have to recruit a group of followers… and probably pay them.

Estebanico chuckled. Where’s that enthusiastic little boy who was ready to head off on his quest the first time I told him about it? In fact, where’s the excited man who walked out of your house this morning?

He’s on his way to work?

And what is it that you do? Estebanico was smiling as he asked the question. He seemed to be honestly interested.

I study the probability that certain things will happen… or they will not.

In that case, said the old man with a chuckle, you are right to want to take your time in preparation. Because the journey of which we speak is very improbable. Some in fact might call it impossible.

Esteban shook his head. So now you’re telling me that the quest I’ve been dreaming of all my life is impossible.

But why let that stop you? It is important… it must be done.

Esteban pulled into a parking space and then looked up. He wasn’t at work at all. He was four blocks away at the local branch of the Bank of America.

What are we doing here? he asked.

You need money, said Estebanico, to help you on your quest.

In spite of all his dreams, in spite of a lifetime of bragging about his destiny, the fact that he must suddenly act, must soon actually set off on his quest began to panic Esteban even more. His great, great grandfather heard it in his voice.

I need more time, said Esteban. What about transportation, what about provisions? What about a map?

Estebanico smiled that knowing smile. God will provide, he said. You do believe in God, don’t you?

I did, Esteban answered. Once upon a time.

Exactly, said the old man. Once upon a time. And that, grandson, is how all great adventures begin.

Chapter 2

Kenny & Lorena

Lorena Torres stared at her date barely blinking, waiting, not saying anything, just realizing that she’d never really been kissed before... not the way she hoped that she would be kissed tonight. And now here they were in the perfect place for it... and at the perfect time.

Kenny McLaughlin, short, broad, with a square jaw, a shock of red hair and a wide crazy smile, was maybe seventeen at the most. He lived over on the west side of La Sentencia, Arizona USA… the high-rent district as Lorena’s grandfather liked to call it.

Still, here they were, sitting alone in the back seat of his sparkly new Dodge Challenger with the big blue strip down the center of the hood, an interior of all white leather upholstery, and a seductive new car smell. They sat close together, knowing that the only way they were going to kiss was if one of them actually did something about it.

Lorena batted those famously long eyelashes of hers – the ones her mother said would get her into all kinds of trouble someday – and Kenny moved his lips closer.

Guess we should, huh? he whispered as he placed one hand on the girl’s shoulder.

Lorena loved his touch. She simply nodded. Yeah, we should, and she swallowed hard.

Kenny closed his eyes; he was smiling a little, she thought, and he was moving very slowly toward her.

Mmmmm, Lorena sighed and jumped forward to kiss her date before he could change his mind. Their teeth bumped unceremoniously, they both jerked backward... and at that moment, the car suddenly began shaking violently. In fact, everything was in frantic motion: the road, the hills, and the mountains. Rocks and huge mounds of earth came loose and slid down the mountainsides and out across the deserted highway.

The car’s convulsions jarred the teens apart. Lorena opened her eyes just as Kenny’s expression changed from sheer terror to absolute awe. His face turned bright red... then orange, then yellow-green... and then an unearthly shade of blue.

Kenny, what’s going on? Lorena gasped. But the boy could only murmur, Jeez, look at that, as he pointed out the front windshield.

Lorena turned and saw that the entire left side of the Challenger was pulsing with the same colors that kept flashing across Kenny’s face. She turned the other way and could see the mountainsides and the sky glowing with the same ever-changing light. It seemed to be coming from just beyond a ridge of earth that Lorena was sure hadn’t even been there a few seconds before.

It has a beat, Kenny said with a sudden smile. And he began pounded the back of the car seat to the pulsing rhythm of the light. How cool is this?

Lorena was about to smile when another shockwave rocked the Challenger violently. It tore more rocks and debris from the mountainside and sent them spilling out across the roadway.

Must be an earthquake? Lorena said as the violent shaking continued.

Psychedelic earthquake, Kenny added, and, for a moment, the two kids could do little more than hang on as the new car seemed to be trying to tear itself apart.

Then, a loud unearthly screech, like the call of some prehistoric raptor, fractured the air and filled them both with panic. The teens both turned quickly toward the sound and saw something that looked like a massive fireball begin to wrench itself free from the earth. There was another horrible screech, and then the fireball launched itself into the sky above them… still color-shifting as it went.

Gradually, the Challenger stopped rocking. Gradually, Kenny released his grip on the back of the car seat. Gradually, Lorena slumped against her boyfriend, pulled his arms around her for protection, closed her eyes, and quickly whispered an entire decade of the rosary before either she or Kenny could begin to process what had really happened. There was the dead silence that seemed to stretch out all around them. And then another sound, a sound that should have been familiar, but really wasn’t, began to penetrate the black silence.

Clomp, clomp... clomp, clomp, clomp.

A shape was moved toward them through the dust that swirled up in the wake of the vanishing fireball.

Clomp, clomp...

Damn, Kenny said as an unearthly countenance moved slowly toward the dust-shrouded side window of the car. It looks like some kind of alien... something right out of Star Wars.

Lorena stared in terror at the face that now peered in at them. And then she giggled nervously.

It looks more like… a camel, she said.

Kenny squinted, wiped his eyes, and looked out through the glass. Oh yeah. It is a camel, nothing strange about that, but he found he was shaking. And he began shaking even more as another camel head, and then a third moved closer… until all three of them were there, bobbing and stretching outside the window as they looked into the sterile whiteness of the car’s interior.

The head of the first camel slammed against the window, probably by accident, because it let out a nasty bellow before it jerked back quickly and turned away.

That’s enough for me, Kenny said as he twisted himself over the console and into the front seat. He turned the key in the ignition, put the car in gear, and urged it ahead. They rolled right by the camels, right through the dust that still hung in the air like some mottled curtain.

What’s that? Lorena asked as the little car rumbled on down the road.

Some chrome and neon thing sat on top of a ridge where the departing fireball had pushed up a giant mound of earth. The thing pulsed with the same kind of light that had flooded the car when the fireball took off.

Looks like a jukebox, Kenny answered as he guided the muscle car forward. And, almost as if in response to Kenny’s comment, the jukebox flashed on full bright and began pounding out the words to an old heavy metal song that neither Kenny nor Lorena had ever heard before.

THINGS ARE STRANGE

THINGS ARE SO DAMN STRANGE!

GONNA CHANGE

THINGS ARE GONNA CHANGE!

Lorena’s eyes widened, and she mouthed the words along with the song… even though she didn’t really know them: Things are gonna change!

The Challenger was barely crawling now as it approached the pulsing light of the jukebox. Kenny put his foot on the break, stopped the car, shut off the engine, and began to open the door.

Gonna check it out, babe, he said.

No, you’re not, Lorena answered sharply, as she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back into his seat. And neither am I. Because we’re both going to get the hell out of here... right now!

Chapter 3

Esteban and the Camels

Esteban had prepared and eaten another gourmet breakfast. He did like to cook. And now he sipped his coffee as he rinsed the dishes thoroughly and slid them (almost completely clean) into the dishwasher. He would turn on the machine and let it run while he was at work. For Esteban perfect cooking and clean up was something of a ritual, as was eating healthy, as was keeping his house, car, clothing, and everything else around him spotless at all times.

Such a man would plan very carefully for a great adventure, he had decided, and would not set off until everything was in place. And regardless of what his great, great grandfather had said, he would not allow himself to consider the fact that all these plans, all these tasks that must be performed before setting out were in any way an excuse for delay. His grandfather had been right. Adventure was difficult, dangerous, and perhaps even impossible. But this damn trip was his, wasn’t it? And he was going to do it his way.

Esteban dumped the contents of his coffee cup into his travel mug without spilling a drop. Then he rinsed the cup and put it into the dishwasher. He slung his suit coat over his arm and stepped out through the kitchen door and into the bright Arizona sunshine.

And there, right in front of him, stood a camel. In fact, there were three of them. They walked into his front yard and approached him. Each looked at Esteban with a friendly gaze and seemed to nod.

Esteban didn’t run back into the house or reach for his cell phone and call the local newspaper to ask about these strange, clumsy creatures that had almost never been seen in this part of the world. Instead, he began to feel more and more distracted, hypnotized almost. As though he were in a trance, he stumbled out beyond the house, squeezed open the door to his immaculate, late model BMW, laid his briefcase on the front seat, his suit coat on top of it, deposited his travel mug in the cup holder, then closed and locked the car door without getting in, and turned to follow the camels up the road on foot.

#

The strange procession – three camels and a slight young man with neatly groomed hair and dreamer’s eyes – strode slowly past Mr. Jordan’s Grocery store with its racks of produce set out in the cool morning air. They passed Gloria’s Bakery where the windows were already filled with empanadas, marranitos and other forms of pan dulce. At last, Esteban found himself outside the Tres Flores Restaurant. The camels had led him there. They spoke to him somehow, he thought. They understood that he was a dreamer and an adventurer, just as they must be. Now the animals stood nodding their heads, and eating the flowers that grew in the little boxes that flanked the restaurant’s doorway.

After a few moments, Luís Romo and his wife Carmen, the owners of Tres Flores, came running out through the front door drying their hands on their aprons.

Camels? Luís moaned as he saw what was happening, Vámonos! and he charged at the beasts waving his arms in an attempt to drive them away from the flower boxes.

The nearest camel reared up on its hind legs, pivoted and galloped away from the restaurant. The others turned and followed… galloping, for a few yards, that is… before they again assumed the heavy gait that Esteban had been tracking. Now, however, the young man just stood in front of the restaurant looking at Luís and Carmen with a confused expression on his face and a faraway look in his eyes.

The camels brought you here, Stevie? Luís asked.

He nodded.

Carmen studied the young man and then asked, Esteban, is everything okay with you, or are you dreaming again?"

Even she knew.

I’m fine, he answered. Fine." Though he didn’t seem fine to Carmen, who had known Esteban since he was a child.

If the camels brought you here, Luís asked, shouldn’t you be following them?

Esteban looked over his shoulders at the camels. They were just standing across the street, eating the long grass in front of the Santa Maria Mortuary.

I don’t think so.

Luís smiled with some compassion, Then how about some chorizo and eggs?

Esteban shook his head distractedly. No, thanks, I’ve already eaten.

And aren’t you going to be late for work? Carmen asked.

I am. Yes, I am.

Then maybe you’d better get going?

Esteban just stood there, still looking very confused. Luís put his arm around the young man’s shoulder. Maybe we should be talking about an insurance policy for our restaurant, he said with a smile,