Hank Trueblood popped the tops off two Sierra Nevada Pale Ale bottles of beer for himself and Cindi Scott, the ethnologist on the archaeological historical survey of Lake Oroville. The northern region of California was in the third year of a historic drought, which lowered the water levels of the Lake to catastrophic levels.

The only positive aspect of the drought was the uncovering of historical sites that had flooded when the Lake was filled. Hank and Cindi worked all day long, alongside other team members and local volunteers, in the one hundred-degree temperatures, documenting buried historical sites from before the dam was built and from previous surveys conducted during the last Lake Oroville drought.

Their trailer’s AC was taking longer to cool the space down. But the two of them sat sprawled out with exhaustion. They managed to get a couple of gulps in when someone knocked on the door.

Hank was sitting next to the door. So he reached up and pulled it open without standing up. Three of the volunteers, Archaeological students from CSU Chico, stepped in and shut the door.

“What’s up, Sam?” Cindi asked. Sam Taylor turned to the girl behind him and said, “We were trying to moor the houseboat to the shore with those industrial-sized railroad spikes when the shore caved in and swallowed Bug here.

June “Bug” Haverstrom stepped forward with her iPad, handed it to Cindi, and then sat on the couch next to her. “I was okay.” Bug said, “But it’s pretty steep of a cave.” The Bug pointed at the series of pictures that ended with a video of what was at the bottom of the cave.

A large limestone boulder blocked the way, and Cindi reached out and finger zoomed as close as she could get to the boulder. It had pictograms inscribed on it in an orderly manner. The chiseled symbols were lined up as if the artist were using a yardstick to keep his words in straight lines.

Cindi handed the iPad to Hank and said, “I have never seen those kinds of pictograms here in California, have you, Hank? Just the thought of there being a boulder with extensive pictograms would be enough of a mystery. But, buried like that baffles me.”

Hank studied the video and then asked, “Was there anything unique about the boulder, Bug?”

Bug was ready for that question and answered, “Yeah, I think somebody put it there to block a tunnel.”

Sam chimed in and agreed, but added, “I agree with Bug. It looks like it was rolled down the tunnel to that spot for the specific purpose of keeping anyone out of whatever is behind it. I’d hate to guess how much it weighs. But, you can tell it would take some serious equipment to get it out of the tunnel.”

Hank opened the trailer door and invited the rest of the team into the cooler trailer, and started handing out beers to everyone, and said, “I guess we will just have to go take a look at what you stumbled into, Bug. But, everyone find a place to sit and let’s take some time to cool off.”

Eventually, after all the protocols were met and under the supervision of the Maidu tribe, a D6 tracked bulldozer was floated into the site, and a jury-rigged harness was attached to the boulder, and the process began. It took four hours of trial and error and tore up the exposed lake bed, but the boulder was finally dragged out into the light.

It was huge. It was much bigger than anticipated from what was visible in the tunnel. Plus, what was visible in the tunnel was only a third of the pictograms on the boulder. And, by now, the whole situation had attracted the attention of some of the larger Archaeology departments from the UC system and from the news outlets.

Hank and Cindi, along with their team, ignored the attention the boulder was getting and walked down into the tunnel it had been guarding.

A broad stairway descended thirty feet before it came to a wide hallway with walls that were covered in life-sized figures of all kinds. The quality of the art was beautiful. There were scenes on the walls that sparked memories of stories told long ago. Stories that science had relegated to the land of myth and legend. And, the floor was also a masterpiece of one long tile mosaic, like the mosaics found in ancient Ur or Egypt.

The team stood in the hall with their flashlights, jumping from one work of art to the next. Until Sam spoke up, “Hey, everyone, there’s a light coming from further into the tunnel.”

The team slowly walked down the tunnel until they came to an opening. The air was warmer and the light was brilliant. There were only a few steps down to the scene before them. It was a picture of incredible colors and smells that evoked the sense of being at the best tropical vacation you could imagine. However, a sense of the supernatural asserted itself in the form of a shimmer to the scene, as if looking through a very pronounced mirage.

Standing off to the side, next to a giant stone chair was a colossal figure of an angel leaning on what looked like the largest broadsword ever forged. He stepped up to the opening of the tunnel, smiled, and said, “We thought this might happen. But at this stage of the game, the King isn’t too worried about this. But I still have a job to do. So, Hank, I have one question for you. Do you have reservations?”

With that question, the man lifted the sword and immediately transformed into a larger and more magnificent angel, holding a flaming sword.

Hank and the team froze. Many of them understood what was going on and where they were. But the angel’s question still prompted Hank to ask the angel, “Reservations? What kind of reservations do we need for this place?”

The angel smiled but just pointed back up the tunnel and said, “There is only one way to acquire a reservation to Eden, it is found in the King of Heaven, Jesus Christ. He is the way, the truth, and the life. Only through Jesus can you enter the paradise of Eden.”

Hank understood the angel and turned to see if the team understood their situation. All of them were awestruck, and a few whose faces were gripped by fear. When Hank turned back around, a brick wall was where the angel had stood.