This is the first section of the novel: KADA
see the KADA info and intro page.

©08 Levite, The Media Desk (see below)

The full novel is available on KADA and in a Large Print Edition as well.

or directly from the publisher at:


3,000 BC
      Kadahillmea spoke to the gods in the metal hut...
      "I am Kadahillmea. The Greatest of all Chiefs.
      I rule all between the great seas. I will rule all between
      the raining forest and the eternal ice. I have power over
      the souls of my people, over the demons of my enemies,
      over all I see. I will see the future and change it to my ends,
      I will have the golden walls of power in my great house.
      I will have a woman for every day of the month.
      I will cast the spirits of my enemies into the bison.
      I am Kadahillmea. Son of the Huntress of the Great Lake.
      Brother of the killer of Machianton, the demon-man."

      The gods spoke to Kadahillmea in the metal hut...
     "You are Kadahillmea, the Greatest of Chiefs. We are the gods!
      You are man! We are the GODS! You are the son of a man!
      We are the gods. We know your desire to be as we are, immortal.
      You wish to have the final power in your world.
      And you shall have these things. Outside is the Silver Staff,
      It has the Final Power. As long as you control the Power...
      You will be Immortal. WE are the GODS."

      Kadahillmea left the metal hut and picked up the staff...
      "I am Kadahillmea. Controller of the Final Power.
      Now immortal as the gods.
      I am Kadahillmea.
      I AM KA-DA-HILL-ME-A !!!

      The gods left ... afraid.
      Not of what they had done to man,
      but of what they had done to themselves.

Chapter 1
      Arnold pronounced his judgment of the small South Dakota town as soon as its outline appeared over the gently rolling hills. The van jostled sharply over a rough spot and Mike thanked his guardian angel for the new shocks on the front of the van once again as he drove along.
      "This place closes at five and doesn't even open on Sundays. Fun permits available by written request at city hall." Arnold's half smile lit up his dark face. He wasn't altogether serious.
      Tom didn't give him any slack. "Just the kind of place you need to spend the summer."
      "Yeah? Now you sound like my mother."
      Winney giggled, "Arnold, you don't even speak to your mother."
      "Then he sounds like my probation officer."
      Tom checked his map again. The group of students from the University of Illinois was heading for a small farm just outside of town. He put his finger on the map and turned to his girlfriend.
      "Watch for road 181," he said to her and the driver, Mike.
      Mike nodded and eased off the gas a little.
      "Watch out, an ox cart is going to pass us," Arnold said from the back of the van.
      Mike ignored Arnold. "Is road 205 on your map?"
      "Yup. 181 should be the one after next," Tom answered.
      Joan looked at the map in Tom's hand. "This is listed as an Intermediate Highway, 181 is an improved road." She smiled at Mike in the mirror. "Guess what that means."
      The driver swallowed hard, "Connect the potholes with asphalt?"
      Tom chuckled, "Just drive."
      "I'd rather walk," Arnold half muttered.
      "That can be arranged."
      Arnold sagged and pouted in his seat, but he didn't say anything.
      "I think we should stop for fuel and a cold drink up here," Mike said as they approached a small diner/general store/tavern.
      Joan nodded to Tom. Several others voiced their approval.
      In a minute the small bus bounced to a stop next to the diesel pump. Mike touched the door button and the group poured out into the prairie sun.

      Tom Selman was the co-leader of the combined archeology/anthropology expedition. A graduate student, he was the second oldest of the group, something he was quite proud of, and in charge of the archeology side of things, 'the picks and shovels' as some put it. Joan, his girlfriend, was majoring in photography. This expedition was her senior project. Well over half her total baggage weight was photographic equipment.
      Arnold elbowed his way out of the van and into the store. He wasn't majoring in anything in particular, but saw the expedition as a vacation from Urbana for a couple of months. He signed on as a 'hired digger and surveyor', intending to work as little as possible for his wages and his room and board.
      Winney was a senior anthropology major. In spite of the difference in fields, she would still be down in the dirt until the cultural artifacts came to light. Then she'd be in charge of classifying and cataloging them and, she hoped, not having to get her hands dirty any more.
      Mike was next to walk into the store. He was there to support his co-major of comparative religions by making some extra money as bus driver and gopher. Also, as a theology major, he was the groups defacto chaplain. His interest in the subject of their dig came naturally. At one point, Kadahillmea had declared himself a god. His research would compare that to a similar phenomenon in Rome with several emperors including his favorite- Gaius Germanicus, Caligula.
      Lariad, the exchange student, was last. He had been asleep.
      Inside they shuffled around, stretching and yawning. Tom went to the counter and asked about their destination, the Milfus farm.
      "Oh, you need to talk to Mis'r Widesky," the cashier said, pointing back to the bar area of the place. "That's him, in the doeskin."
      Tom didn't know doeskin from a kimono, but there was only one man she could have meant. He thanked her and walked that way.
      "Mister Widesky?"
      The man seemed startled to hear his name. He turned to look at the speaker but didn't speak.
      "I'm Tom Selman, from the U of I, Illinois, I mean. We're doing the dig on the Milfus farm this year. The lady said you were the man to speak to about the history of the farm."
      Widesky nodded. "Why you digging out there? The old village is over by the river."
      "Yes, sir. We have reason to believe Chief Kadahillmea may be buried on the farm."
      Widesky was silent for a long minute. He took a slow sip of his drink and swallowed hard. "Kada," he said quietly.
      "Yes, sir. Have you heard of him?"
      Widesky nodded as if he had been asked about an unpleasant odor.
      The student continued. "Some pictographs in various caves from Tennessee and Arizona have been translated to read that whoever disturbs the rest of Kadahillmea will..."
      "Release his wrath on the gods in this world," Widesky finished. "Yeah, I heard about it. White man's nonsense if you ask me. So why do you think he's out there?"
      "Lots of reasons, including a resurveying of this area with Landsat ground imaging radar. There is something out there. And I think its him."
      Widesky pursed his lips and nodded.
      "Do you know anything about him?" Joan asked.
      "A little. The legends mostly. My grandfather was a spirit chief. But I just play the part for the tourists. For a hundred bucks I'll do the fertility dance and promise you lots of kids." He half leered at Joan. "For about the same price, I'll do your taxes. I don't believe that about the curse. With me, its business, I'm a commercial witchdoctor." He grinned slyly. Then he lowered his voice. "Kada himself is probably just an old wives tale, to scare the kids into staying in the camp at night."
      The atmosphere around the bar got very heavy.
      "The old wives had a lot of good wisdom," Mike said from behind them.
      Widesky turned and looked at him. For a second, he thought he saw a gray-haired chief in full regalia up by the door. Then his eyes focused on the student. "If you say so."
      Tom stared at Widesky. Then he turned to Mike. "Is the van gassed up?"
      "Yes, sir," Mike said with a mock salute.
      "Let's round them up and get going."
      "Hey, if you guys find him, cut me in on the deal and I'll make it worth your while," Widesky said, lifting his glass toward them.
      Tom nodded with a half smirk. He took Joan by the hand and started calling the others by name to get moving.
      As soon as they were out the door Marvin Widesky flagged down the old woman bartender. "Another one," he said. She turned to get it. "Make it a double." She reached for a bottle. "Never mind. Just give me that and some ice." He waved to the bottle in her hand.

Chapter 2
      The 'commercial witchdoctor' went to bed that night beside his wife as usual. He felt satisfied that the students would go out and not find anything substantial. Then he could go out and see if he could make a few bucks off whatever they did turn up. Even if they found nothing, tourists had been known to pay five dollars a head to tour a dig site and take pictures of a hole in the ground. Widesky resolved to call the Widow Milfus and see if she wanted to sell the farm.
      The alcohol started to take its toll. He fell asleep to images of huge signs directing people to tour his farm from the interstate highway miles away. Artifacts bore stickers saying Widesky Farm Archaeological Site in his gift shop. Girls in traditional costumes sold lemonade from his stands. In the evenings, trams from his campground brought people to watch productions on his stage by his reenactors.
      He started snoring loudly.
      At first he thought it was a continuation of the artifact dream, but he was walking through the woods. He rolled over and snored louder, his wife elbowed him, he wiggled and went on sleeping. Now he was standing in front of a huge open grave. Confused he looked up to see a tall man in some kind of fantastic costume.
      Even asleep Marvin Widesky felt a chill in his very soul as he realized that this figure was Kadahillmea himself.
      The chief pointed a shiny metal rod at him and demanded by what authority he allowed the rest of Kadahillmea to be disturbed. Marvin Widesky could not answer. Kada frowned at him and Widesky felt unseen hands dragging him down toward the pit. He dropped to his knees from the force and tried to stop his slide into the open grave. Just as his hands went over the side he screamed himself awake.

      Marvin Widesky was still shaking. His wife held him close as he described the nightmare. He put his hands out as he told her about how he went over the edge. Widesky looked up at her face, it was blank, she was staring at his hands. He looked down at them.
      Both of his hands were covered with thick black mud. He opened his hands and cold black dirt fell onto the sheets. He screamed again.

Chapter 3
      It was still very early when Tom opened his motel door to the insistent pounding. Half asleep, he barely recognized the man.
      "Mister Widesky. Do you know what time it is?"
      "Nope. Listen, I've got to talk to you."
      "Why now?"
      "Tom? Will you shut up. I've got to get some sleep," a feminine voice said from beneath a mountain of covers.
      "Mister Widesky is here. He says he needs to talk to us."
      "Who? Oh, that Indian from the bar." The covers sat up and after considerable disorganized maneuvers some disheveled red hair emerged followed by a semi-clothed young lady.
      "Mister Widesky, I believe you've met Joan, my... ah, friend."
      "Yes, a pleasure. Please call me Marvin. I brought some coffee." He held out an ancient insulated jug and some paper cups.
      "Thanks. But what's this about?" Tom asked.
      Widesky poured the coffee and looked sideways at Joan as she got out of the bed. Finally, he answered the question. "I don't think you should go digging for Kada."
      "Why? Is it raining?" Joan looked out the window.
      "No. It only rains around here once a year whether we need it or not. I just have this feeling."
      "I thought you were a shaman for hire, and you don't get feelings," Tom smirked.
      Widesky shrugged. "Not usually, but this time is different."
      He thought about the feelings he had. The dream hadn't faded any in the last couple of hours. If he thought about it he could still smell the damp earth. He downed a whole cup of the steaming liquid.
      "You sure it wasn't something you drank?" Tom asked, stirring sugar into his cup.
      "Maybe. But maybe not." Widesky was sure they'd throw him out if he told them about is dream.
      Suddenly, Joan screamed and pointed at the window. The men looked and, for a second, they both thought they saw a large figure wearing robes holding a gleaming silver rod. Tom jumped toward the door and yanked it open.
      He looked down just before he closed the door. He really didn't notice the footprints at first. They didn't register to his mind as footprints. Then it dawned on him exactly what they were. "Come here," he said to them. Then he pointed down.
      Widesky and Joan walked up behind him and stared silently at them.
      They saw two rather large prints of bare feet of black mud. Men's size ten or eleven with no arch, the toes clearly visible. No tracks lead to them, or away. Just two fresh footprints exactly where they had seen the man standing, in front of their window on the second floor.
      "Now do you believe me?" Widesky asked, slightly shaken.
      "No," Tom said, looking over the railing at the parking lot below. "And with good reason. The ghosts of dead Indian Chiefs don't leave muddy footprints on dry concrete." He looked at his cup of coffee suspiciously. "I think some of the locals with shady motives may be trying to keep us from doing what we came to do."
      Widesky shook his head. "It's not me. I'm just worried about y'all."
      Joan smiled at him. "I believe you."
      "So you're not going out to the farm?"
      "No. I believe you are just worried about us," she answered.
      Widesky stood defenseless for a few minutes, torn about what to do. Finally he took his jug and left.
      "Well?" Tom said to Joan as they watched his pick-up drive away.
      "Do I believe the in the ghost?" she asked.
      "For starters."
      "No," she looked out the window, half expecting to see the image again. It wasn't there. "I can't go back to sleep now. Let's get dressed and go have a real breakfast."
      Tom nodded, still looking out the window. The vision did not reappear, although he had the feeling they were being watched.

The full novel is available on KADA and in a Large Print Edition as well.

or directly from the publisher at:

    ©1983, 2008Levite/the Media Desk
    This work Author Copyright 2008. All Rights Reserved including right of approval for further production or publication.
    All characters including KADAHILLMEA are fictional, no resemblance to any persons living or dead is intended. All music, locations, and references will be credited when required.
    The author reserves all rights to the enclosed work, no permission for other use is given or implied.
    Original manuscript, copyright 1983, is in the author's possession as of this rewrite.
    The online use of the handle 'kada' is the only authorized use of the name Kada (Kadahillmea), and was used solely by the author on the Playpen BBS.
    Novel for sale through LULU.COM see link above. Only Other Authorized Online Presentation Outlet- , any other use is violation of copyright and subject to action.

    Email: dr_leftover{a%t}themediadesk{d0t}com email scrambled for spammer robots
    Surface Mail Contact Information:

    The Media Desk,  ref: KADA,  PO Box 1276,  Dover,  DE,  USA  19903-1276

to the KADA info and intro page.

Back to the Desk Fiction Page