Montana Rockwood in Amorous Atlantis - Prologue

In the 1930s, Hudson Rockwood is a jet-setting archeologist hot on the trail of Atlantis. But when a mysterious snake cult curses him, he discovers that being a roguish adventurer is a lot harder when you're a woman. Having no other choice, he and his journalist best friend, Frank, must travel the globe to find Atlantis, break the curse, and stop the cult, all while trying to figure out how to run in high heels.

~

Prologue - Why'd It Have to Be Snakes?

1937 - Somewhere in the jungles of South America

The temple was crumbling down around him, but Hudson Rockwood wasn’t afraid. In fact, he grinned with excitement as he dodged falling boulders with ease. The map he’d spent the better part of a month looking for now tucked safely in his thick jacket, he dove through the ancient stone archways and over the spike pit. 

Confidently, he pushed the round boulder blocking his exit and hefted it aside, feeling his muscles burn in the process. He felt a breeze as his head narrowly avoided a pair of swinging blades made of ancient bronze; it was a good thing he wasn’t one of those guys who kept their hair long, or it would have been shaved right off. With one final push, Hudson flew through the air and landed outside in the humid South American jungle and rolled to his feet just in time to see the temple disappear into the ground. 

A shame really; it was the archaeological find of the century, or at least it would have been while it was still standing. But he’d gotten what he came for, which was the most important thing. Hudson dusted himself off, holstered his pistol and patted the side of his jacket, feeling the ancient parchment crinkle slightly. 

A less experienced adventurer would have let their guard down, maybe even cheer, but not Hudson; he knew better. He found a secluded spot in the dark green undergrowth and waited. It took a few minutes, but then he spotted movement. Members of the cult that had been stalking him ever since he picked up the trail of the map. They had fought several times in the maze that was that temple, but he’d gotten to the map first. Of course, it was too much to hope that they would have been crushed beneath the rocks; in their short time knowing each other, Hudson had come to realise just how skilled these men and women, yes, women, were. 

It had taken him by surprise the first time he’d pulled back one of their serpentine masks to find a lovely face staring back at him with hatred in her eyes. So much so, she’d actually managed to land a punch on him. After that, it had been easy to throw away his reservations about hitting a lady. No matter what was between an enemy's legs, it didn't make it any less painful when they socked you in the nose. Still, it gave him even more reason to take their twisted cult down; what sort of group allowed women out into danger like this? What sort of lies had they been told to make them think this was the sort of life for a respectable lady?

Hudson stayed hidden in the undergrowth while the cult members fanned out and searched, if he was lucky, they would think he died in the cave-in. Not that Hudson believed in luck; with his skills, he didn’t need to. 

~

Chicago - One Week Later

“You know, you can slow down a bit.” Frank chuckled, taking another drag from his cigarette. “The burgers aren’t going anywhere.”

Hudson ignored him, wolfing down yet another massive bite. 

“I spent three days hiding in the undergrowth and sneaking out of that jungle.” He said between bites. “The whole time, you know what kept me going? Without food and only leaf caught rain water?”

“The fact that you found a map that’s going to make you famous?” John said with a sly smile.

“No, the thought that if I let those snake-masked fuckers catch me, I’d never eat another American burger again.”

Frank shook his head and chuckled; it was the sort of response he’d come to expect, and Hudson grinned at him. Getting back home had been no easy task, but finally, he was back in the world of apple pie and motorcars. After three months camping out in the humid jungle, the diner felt like Heaven. 

“So? Are you going to show it to me?” Frank asked. “You’ve been cagey about this one. Normally, you can't wait to tell me about the treasures you’ve been digging out of the ground.”

“Searching for another journalism award?” 

“It’s the only reason I still follow you around.” 

The comment wasn’t barbed; Frank wore a smile, and Hudson gave him a fond look. They’d been a team ever since they were kids, him digging in the sandpit and Frank hiding behind trees, learning everybody’s secrets so they could laugh about it later. They were chalk and cheese when it came to looks; where Hudson was broad and dark-haired with sunkissed skin, Frank was fair haired and lanky but no less handsome. They did well at university, especially as one another’s wingmen. It seemed natural that somebody with such a natural ear for secrets like Frank became a journalist, but Hudson’s career path had been less…conventional. 

“The Egyptian mask story was three years ago now. I need something fresh under my byline.” Frank said as he stamped out what was left of his cigarette. “So spill, I’ve been telling my editor I’m working on something big, and I’d like for that not to be a lie tomorrow.”

Hudson glanced around out of habit and then carefully produced the folded up parchment and spread it over the table. The ink was slightly faded with age, but the markings were still clear: open ocean, coastlines and waypoints all leading to…

“Atlantis?” Frank said with disbelief. His blue eyes went wide enough to look like dinner plates. “You’re joking, all this for some cockamamie fairytale? Hudson, my editor is going to roast me alive!”

“No, it’s real, or at least it was.” Hudson insisted, “I’ve been picking up breadcrumbs for years; the mysterious ‘sea people’ during the bronze age collapse? Strange jumps in technology, always from coastal countries across the western side of Africa and Europe and the eastern sides of South and Central America; it’s all there. Odd notes tucked away in ancient writings, Atlantis and her people were real, and this map proves it!”

“Maps like this also ‘prove’ sea monsters exist,” Frank argued with air quotes, pointing at the dragon coiled around a swirling tide pool in the map's top left corner.

“That was just the mapmakers' way of marking rough seas. I’m going to find it, Frank.” Hudson insisted. “Look, I have been comparing this coastline, the one closest to the island city in the centre, now it doesn't match anything on modern maps, but that’s because it was made thousands of years ago, drawn by eye from somebody riding along the coast in a ship.”

“Hudson, just…take a deep breath for a moment-”

“No! Look, I am sure this is the edge of modern-day Morocco. I’m going to go there, charter a ship and find this city.”

Frank lit another cigarette, looking frazzled. 

“You mean it, don’t you?” He sighed in defeat. “You’re going on this wild goose chase.”

“It’s not a wild goose chase.” Hudson insisted, “This, this will be the find of the century, hell, the millennium. Who knows what sort of wonders are hiding in that city? Maybe the people are still living there!”

“You’re insane.” Frank rolled his eyes, “but, you’re going to end up in a Chicago overcoat if I let you go alone.”

Hudson grinned.

“I knew I could count on you!”

“But I am telling my editor we’re hunting down a lost ship of Cortez or something.”

Hudson leaned back in the booth and put his hands behind his head with a cocky smile; he knew Frank would come around.

“Whatever you need to do. Let’s go make history.”

~

Hudson’s suitcase was half packed; plenty of clothes, his gun, spare bullets, whip, and canteen were all ready, and the map spread out over his table. He’d been studying it all night; the truth was outside of recognising Morocco as a starting point, he had no idea where to go next. The good news was that he had the better part of a month to plan on the voyage over there. He’d used most of his money buying a plane ticket back to the States. He couldn’t afford another across the Atlantic, so ship it was. The extra planning time was just a happy side effect.  

He smoothed his fingers over the map once more. His eyes were drawn back to that sea serpent-like creature surrounding the swirling water in the top corner; it was oddly out of place. The ancient text, the Atlantean language, he assumed, circled it. Hudson would have given anything to be able to read it. What did it say? Here be monsters? Or perhaps a person's name, the cartographer? Or something juicer, a warning? 

He felt his fingers flex with excitement; he couldn't wait to find out what treasures awaited him. He was about to get back to packing when a tingle ran up his spine, a second sense he’d developed after years of living on the edge; he knew better than to ignore it. 

Hudson spun around and pressed his back to the wall, listening intently as the sound of footsteps met his ears—soft, slow footsteps like those made by somebody who didn’t want to be heard. Somebody was sneaking down his hallway. It gave him just enough warning to dodge out of the way as a figure darted around the corner and flung a knife right at his heart. 

He dodged, his eyes immediately sliding to the bed where his suitcase sat with the gun on top. The man lunged for him, and Hudson expertly dodged out of the way, only to curse his stupidity; the man hadn't been going for him at all, but the map. Without hesitation, he moved and grabbed his gun; it wasn't loaded, a foolish move on his part, but at least the would-be thief didn't know that. 

“Drop that map, or I'll put a bullet in you,” he bluffed.

The figure was like all the rest, dressed in dark clothing with a mask and hood. The mask was dark green, almost black, with the scales of a snake carved into the front. He didn’t move; either he was fearless, or Hudson was getting worse at bluffing, and he had too much confidence to think the latter. 

“You won't risk the map,” the figure hissed, or perhaps they were just speaking low, and the snake motif was starting to drive Hudson screwy. 

His eyes narrowed.

“But you will…” He muttered. 

The gears turned in his mind, and he felt a smile twitch at his lips.

“If you don't care if it's destroyed, then you don’t want the map for yourself…you just don't want anybody else to have it.” He concluded. “You already know the way.”

Hudson cursed the mask. He’d have given anything to see the look on the cultist's face. He knew he was right. Unfortunately, he realised a second too late that giving the game away wasn't the most brilliant move because the cultist immediately pulled the map up between his fingers and moved to rip it. 

After all the shit he went through to get that map, there was no way in hell he was going to let that happen! It was Hudson’s turn to lunge; he tackled the man to the ground, doing his best to try and keep the fragile parchment from getting torn as they grappled. The cultist clocked him in the temple, and Hudson saw stars; and, for a second, multiple cultists. 

Dizzy, he reached for the map once more and ended up ripping into the cultist's loose, flowing robes and closing around something cold. A weapon?! Hudson pulled it back, ripping it away as the cultist cried out. Instead of a gun or knife, though, Hudson’s vision cleared to reveal a glassy blue pendant with a coiling serpent around it. 

He only had a moment to be confused before the cultist was at him again, and he had no choice but to bring his pistol down on the man’s skull. There was a cracking sound as the edge of the mask broke under the force, and the man went down like a sack of potatoes. 

“Stay…down…” Hudson panted before snatching up the map and sighing in relief; somehow, it had made it through the scuffle undamaged. 

That same illustration caught his eye, and he turned his gaze back to the pendant he’d snatched from the cultist; it matched the picture on the map! He so badly wanted to examine it here and now, but the cultist on his floor stirred, and he reluctantly placed the new trinket into his pocket and ran out into the hall to use the apartment building's telephone to ring the police. 

By the time they had come and collected his unwanted visitor, the pendant felt like a red-hot poker pressing against his chest, but the fight and late hour were taking their toll. He flopped down onto the bed, already half asleep but determined not to succumb until he’d admitted his new toy. He reached into his pocket to retrieve it and hissed in pain.

“The hell?”

There were two tiny pinpricks of blood on his thumb when it withdrew, being more careful, he reached in again and fished out the pendant to see his own blood staining the tips of the metal snake.

“Little bastard,” he huffed, sucking the blood away with ease just in time to see the eyes on the snake flare.

Hudson’s jaw dropped; he’d seen plenty of illusions and fake tricks in his time, but that snake was solid metal. How could the eyes be glowing that eerie shade of blue? All at once, the snake moved, coiling around the stone, then his wrist; he barely had a chance to yell in shock before it leapt right for his face. Hudson jumped back, squeezing his eyes closed, expecting pain, but instead he only felt a force rush right at his forehead. He blinked and found the snake gone and the stone blazing brightly in his hand. 

“What the hell?”

How had a metal snake come to life, and where the hell did it go? Hudson felt a shiver run down his spine and quickly tore at his jacket, ripping it off, followed by his shirt, certain he would find the snake sliding against his skin. The feeling began to grow until all his skin was tingling unpleasantly; it felt like there was something inside him, changing him. He swore he could feel his insides rearranging themselves, and a few seconds later, his outsides joined them. 

“Wha-ahhhh!”

Hudson could only watch as his naked chest began to grow, two round pink breasts the size of melons taking the place of his taut muscles. His ass started to swell to match, and his hips stretched, pressing against his pants so much that he was forced to loosen his belt before the blood supply was cut off. 

His finger shook as he fiddled with the belt buckle, groaning in discomfort then relief when it finally opened, and the tension was released. He could see his hands, still clutched around the brass buckle, turning soft and delicate. He’d always had a thing for girls with soft hands; now he had them himself. 

It was all happening too fast; every inch of him was changing; the slope of his shoulders, the curve of his legs, even the shape of his eyes. Hudson could feel his skull burning as his dark hair grew long and took on a natural wave till it reached his shoulders. It wasn't until he felt his manhood starting to change that the real terror set in, though.

“This can’t be happening!” He cried in a voice that didn’t sound anything like his roguish drawl. 

In fact, he sounded like that dame he’d saved from a smuggling ring a few years back; she’d driven him crazy with her screams the entire firefight…and the night after. Normally, it was a happy memory, the night after, anyway, now it only brought a wave of humiliation down on him, and he cried out feeling his balls disappear only to be replaced with something warm and wet. 

When the tingling finally stopped, he was left standing in the middle of his room, topless and half holding up his now ill-fitting pants, breathing heavily. The stone sat on the floor where he'd dropped it when fumbling with his belt; it was pitch black, the snake nowhere to be seen. 

“Jesus…what the…” 

Hudson’s free hand roamed over his body in confusion, feeling softness where there should have been solid muscle and curves where there should have been flat. 

“This is so fucking messed up?”

“Are you okay in there?”

The voice made him jump as the door swung open and his landlady appeared, only to scream at seeing a half-naked woman standing in the middle of the room. 

“Oh my!” The older woman covered her eyes, “You must be one of Mister Hudson's callers! S-so sorry dear!” 

She fumbled for the door handle and pulled it closed, muttering to herself about young women these days and their impropriety. Hudson didn’t even get a chance to say a word. It was a good thing he had a bit of a reputation for lady callers; he had no idea how he was going to explain his appearance otherwise. 

Lacking any better ideas, he picked up the stone and examined it; without the snake coiling around it, the chain had detached and was lying useless on the floor. The stone itself had lost the roiling blue and now looked like nothing more than a hunk of melted black glass. Yet he knew it had to be so much more than that to have done this to him. 

Once again, he looked at the symbol on the map; these two things were connected. If he was going to figure this out, he had to find Atlantis. Only now was there more on the line than just an archeological find. Hudson looked over at his suitcase and pulled a face; he was going to need to find some new clothes.