My birthday's coming up, I can hardly wait. In fact, I've gotten so sick of waiting that I wrote this chapter. It's partly inspired by Indiana Jones, partly by the Tunnels series of books I read when I was 14.

Now that I'm just a few days shy of twenty, and thus no longer being a teenager, I decided to revisit the idea of an ancient society in the jungle. I hope you guys enjoy!

BRADLEY CLARION

For just about as long as I can remember, I've had a fascination with archaeology and ancient cultures.

If you had asked me about it when I was younger, I wouldn't have been able to articulate the reasons for this. I would have just said that I found it interesting to see how societies living long before ours had, well, lived.

Part of this was because my father, Dr. Brendan Clarion, an Assistant Curator of the Greater Pastoria Museum, had endorsed this as I had grown up. From a very young age, the Christmas and birthday presents I'd gotten from him had typically been related to ancient history.

Periodically, maybe once or twice a year, he would leave on an expedition of sorts. Sometimes this was just a meeting with fellow members of an international archaeological foundation, but sometimes they would actually explore an ancient pyramid or temple of some sort.

I had never been on one with him, but he'd always told me that when I got older, he would give me the chance to do so. This was conditional on one thing: That I made my best efforts to be as good a student, and as good a son, as I possibly could.

I lived in Gardenia, a suburban town not far from Pastoria City and the museum at which my father worked. It was a rather nice place to grow up, known for its excellent schools and very low crime rate.

My childhood, however, was far from perfect. I was frequently teased at school for being so interested in specific topics, such as Ancient Alola. I was fascinated by just about every ancient society that was known by humans today, but none of them were, to me, as intriguing as Ancient Alola.

In addition, my obsession with archaeology had sometimes caused my grades to falter at certain points. For the most part, though, I was able to maintain a decent GPA. While it wasn't as impressive as my dad's academic pedigree, it was still nothing to sneeze at if I do say so myself.

Ever since I was twelve, I'd dreamed of traveling with my father. That was the age I'd been when he had first proposed the idea, and I couldn't wait to be old enough for an expedition. I dreamed of hiking into the wilderness and seeing a temple, translating hieroglyphics, and whatever else you did on an archaeological expedition.

The day after my graduation from high school at the age of eighteen, my father came into the living room as I was on my laptop, researching Ancient Sinnoh. My eyes were glued to an article about Spear Pillar and the Hall of Origin, where everything in our world began so many billions of years ago.

"Hey, buddy" he told me as he was walking into the room. He had a smile on his face, and the fact that he had called me buddy, in my experience, could only mean that he had good news to share.

"Hello, Dad," I replied, noticing how excited he looked. "What is it? Why do you look so happy?"

My father kept smiling. "I just booked the tickets".

For a moment, I stared at him blankly, like a Deerling caught in the headlights. I didn't realize what he was saying at first, and then he explained.

"You and I are going to go on an expedition with the IRAA" he told me.

Instantly, my day got a hundred times better. The IRAA, which stands for the Inter-Regional Archaeological Association, is the "club" my father belonged to. He was inviting me to go with him on an expedition, the way I'd wanted to for so long!

"Awesome!" I exclaimed. "When do we leave?"

My father looked at his phone, presumably consulting an email that told him we'd been invited. "We will arrive in Atticus, a city in Alola. We have three weeks to prepare".

"How are we going to prepare?" I asked him. "What do we have to do?"

He shrugged. "We're going to have to go to the outdoor store, get some hiking boots, a lightweight rain poncho, thick socks, thermal underwear…we'll be doing a lot of hiking through the jungle".

To most people, the idea of a long hike through the jungle would have sounded absolutely daunting. Even to me, it was definitely overwhelming to some degree, but you need to understand that this is what I'd desired for six years. I'd always wanted to go with my father on one of his trips.

Over the next three weeks, preparing is much of what we did. My father and I went to the outdoor store and got fitted with the items of clothing listed above. We purchased travel insurance for the trip, so that if something should happen to us we would be covered. Once we had the boots, I began practicing walking in them around the neighborhood, so that I'd be used to it when the time came to hike through the jungle.

I could tell that my mother was more than a little apprehensive at the thought of her son, her only child, going on an expedition into the Alolan wilderness that might well end up being fraught with danger. Every time we were in the same room, I could see it on her face; it was completely transparent.

Three weeks is twenty-one days, which might sound like a long time when you're really looking forward to something, but it isn't, not in the grand scheme of things. With one week to go, my father and I treated our clothes with this spray that would repel mosquitoes, as well as any wild Pokemon who wanted to attack us. (In some parts of the jungle, humans were not always at the top of the food chain).

On the last evening before our departure, we ordered pizza and ice cream. It was the last meal I'd have with my mother, for we had to depart for the airport early the next morning, before she would wake up.

I wish I could tell you that I said more to her during the meal, to try and reassure her that it was going to be okay, that I was eighteen years old and fully capable of taking care of myself. I wish I could tell you that I made the most of our last chance for conversation until we were back from Alola.

But I can't, because I didn't.

Instead, we ate our pizza in near-total silence. The only words that came out of our mouths were when we asked others to pass the pizza boxes our way so that we could get a slice of pepperoni and pineapple, plain cheese, or sausage and mushroom.

I'm not proud of this, but I found it hard to look into my mother's face during our last supper together. I could see tears forming in her eyes, as though she were going to tell me, Bradley, you don't have to do this. You can just stay home in safety.

What I would never tell her is that I did have to do it, for if I did not, I'd never be able to get over it. I'd constantly be wondering "what if". What if I had hiked through the jungle to visit a temple?

As I tried to get to sleep that evening, I tried not to cry. This wasn't an easy task, because the tears had been welling up all day, but I somehow managed it. I didn't want my mother to overhear my crying and get even more worried that I wouldn't be able to handle it.

Eventually, after tossing and turning for a good two hours, I finally got into a position that enabled me to doze off. I slept fitfully throughout the rest of the night, waking up occasionally covered in a fine layer of sweat.

I wonder if this is what it'll be like in the jungle.

The following morning, my father and I left the house at 4 AM, and we were on the plane at half past six. It wasn't my first time on a plane, but it would be the longest airplane ride that I had found myself on.

"Ten hours" my father told me as we were walking down the jet bridge towards the plane. "That's how long the trip to Alola is, so I hope you brought something to do".

I had brought my sketchbook, but that was all. We hadn't been permitted to bring any electronics with us, not even my father's laptop, which was what he normally used for work and to communicate with other members of the IRAA. I knew that he had to be feeling isolated as we got on the plane, even though there were several hundred others on the flight.

We were in the middle row of the plane, and I was in the middle seat of said row. To say that I felt cramped was putting it mildly; I'm a bigger guy (tall and broad-shouldered, not big in the other way), and these seats were pretty small. Even so, I felt that I had no right to complain, for reasons that should be obvious by now.

Over the next few hours, I made some doodles in my sketchbook, although I had to be careful to put it away whenever my father was looking. He didn't want me running out of paper to decode hieroglyphics or whatever else might be required, so I knew that he wouldn't be happy if he saw me using paper unnecessarily.

After a while, my father yawned. "I think I'm going to take a nap," he told me. "Do you want to as well?"

I shook my head. Truth be told, I had no idea how anyone was supposed to sleep on a plane in the middle of the day. All the cabin lights were on, and the engines were quite loud. I didn't think that it would be possible, let alone likely, for me to get some Z's.

"I'm fine," I told him.

Once my father was asleep, I took a look at the in-flight TV monitor to see how much longer it would be until we arrived in Alola.

To my dismay, we had only been on the plane for three hours. Seven more long hours remained.

It was times like this that I wished I'd had a Pokemon partner. At least then I'd have someone to talk to in order to quell the boredom.

Although...it wouldn't be easy to hear them, or for them to hear me, over all this noise.

To pass the time, I looked at the TV to see if there were any interesting movies to watch. None of them looked particularly intriguing, but at this point I was grasping at straws, trying to do anything to entertain myself, even if only for an hour or two.

I ended up watching a couple romantic comedy films. It seemed that almost all the films they had available were of the romantic comedy genre, and they all sucked, but a bad movie was better than nothing. At least I got to make fun of it.

Once The Room was over, I looked at the flight tracker to see how much further the plane had to travel until we landed.

Jesus Christ...two hours? Yeah, that's not good...I've got to find something to keep myself occupied.

My father was awake now, but he was sitting back and looking rather relaxed. Myself, on the other hand...not so much. I might not have had to do anything, but I was still by no means relaxed.

Now that he was paying attention to me, drawing in my sketchbook was no longer an option. Instead, I had to sit there, grin, and bear it, because the reward would be worth the journey, or at least I sincerely hoped so.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the voice of the pilot came over the intercom.

"We will be starting our descent into Atticus. I repeat, we will be starting our descent into Atticus".

I could have stood up and yelled, "Hallelujah!". I would have stood up and yelled that, except I was restrained, both by the seat belt and by the fact that I was in a crowded airplane cabin. I couldn't properly celebrate that my ten-hour ordeal was about to be over.

Of course, at the time, I had no idea that I was staring down the barrel of a far worse ordeal than a ten-hour flight.

We eventually touched down at the Atticus Inter-Regional Airport, and I was thrilled to be on the ground. The plane wasn't attached to a jet bridge this time; instead, the door was opened and a staircase was lowered to the ground so that we could climb down.

Each of us had two duffel bags, one for the hotel we would be staying at that night and one for the jungle expedition. The latter contained all the gear we would need for the trip, and I was almost beginning to regret my decision to join my father.

Oh well. I've made my bed, and now I'll have to lie in it. After all, there's no way in hell I'm enduring another 10-hour flight back home!

We waited in line to get off the plane; unfortunately, since we were towards the back of said line, we had to wait for what felt like a very long time. I spent that time being extremely grateful that I'd worn a lightweight T-shirt on the plane.

Sure enough, the first thing I registered as soon as we stepped out of the plane was just how hot and bright it was in Alola. Considering that it was in a tropical region of the world, I shouldn't have been surprised by this in the least, but it was still a shock to my system after having been in an air-conditioned plane.

At that moment, I was really glad that I'd remembered to bring my sunglasses with me. I put them on almost immediately, but I wasn't going to take off my shirt for two reasons.

One was very obvious; it's not socially acceptable for an 18-year-old to take off their shirt in front of so many strangers. The other reason was only slightly less obvious: I'd get a very nasty sunburn if I did that.

In the distance, I could see large hills, mountains even, covered in thick jungle. It was a spectacular sight, if a little unnerving, since I knew I'd be trekking through said jungle starting tomorrow.

We went through customs and, since we didn't have any baggage that we needed to claim at the carousel, we immediately looked for the sign that had my last name on it, for that was the man who would drive us to our hotel.

"Clarion! There it is!" my father exclaimed, pointing at a dark-skinned man with a short graying beard. Said man was holding a sign that, indeed, said, BRENDAN AND BRADLEY CLARION.

"Hello" the man holding the sign told us. "You are Brendan and Bradley Clarion?"

"Yes, we are," I replied.

My father shot me a quick look. It wasn't exactly a dirty look, but it clearly carried with it the implication of, Let me handle this.

The man led us to his taxi, a black van that looked almost like a limousine. We got inside, and then he started driving down the overpass linked to the airport.

My dad had told me, prior to our departure from Sinnoh, that the driver knew about our expedition and that there was no need to keep any secrets from him. Therefore, we were free to talk about whatever we wanted, within reason.

"So...what can we know about the city of Atticus?" my father asked our driver. "Any sites of note here?"

"Well, there's the Ancient Stadium and the Old Town," the driver replied. "If you have any more time after your expedition you told us about, you could visit some of them".

"What do you think, Bradley?" my father asked me. "Do you think we should, or do you think your mother will want us home as soon as possible once the trip is over?"

I shrugged. "I guess we'll wait and see what she thinks".

There were a few seconds of silence as we hit rush-hour traffic. The driver then said, "The hotel you're going to be staying at, the Alolan Palace, is in the newer part of town. It's the fanciest hotel in all of Atticus, so enjoy your last day of luxury before the trip".

Something about that last sentence sounded ominous, but I chalked it up to the part of it being the last day of luxury. It wasn't a threat at all, no matter how much it might have sounded like one at first.

After about fifteen minutes of sitting in traffic, things started moving again, and more of the city of Atticus became visible. It was right on the ocean, with a wide river cutting through the middle of it. The river didn't seem to be moving very quickly, though, and you could see a number of families enjoying their late afternoon at the beach.

"This is the Phoenix River" the driver told us. "Its source is in the middle of the jungle that you're going to travel through; I recommend that you stay near to it, since you will need plenty of water".

Even though it was late in the day (and therefore not as hot), and I had barely exerted myself at all, I noticed that I felt drained and exhausted already. It was as though the high temperature and humidity had sapped most of my energy...which it seemed to have done.

"Yeah", the driver continued, "it's very important to stay hydrated when you're in the jungle. It's unrelenting out there, so be safe".

We drove along a seaside road that had an esplanade right next to it. This esplanade was next to another beach, which was labelled as Atticus Central Beach by the gate on top of a pier leading out into the ocean. This pier appeared to have vendors selling everything from fresh tropical fruit to sunglasses.

In the distance, I saw a group parasailing above the clear blue waters, as well as a couple on a jet ski. In other words, it looked like your standard beach vacation destination; nothing too special, but I would gladly have spent more time there.

Unfortunately, that just wasn't what life had in store for me.

"We're here" the driver said not a minute later.

I looked out of the left window of the taxi and saw that a ten-story hotel rose above the esplanade, with diamond-encrusted letters above the entrance labelling it the ALOLAN PALACE.

I didn't see very many Pokemon around, but I supposed that this was only to be expected. After all, the driver had told us that the Alolan Palace was the fanciest hotel in town, and most trainers couldn't afford anything like that. (That was part of the reason I had never wanted to be a trainer; it wasn't a career path if you wanted to make lots of money).

We got out of the taxi, and I immediately felt a blast of heat. My father then paid the driver. "Okay, Bradley", he told me, "let's go inside and check in".

And so we did just that, as I got to take in just how magnificent the lobby was. It looked like an Ancient Alolan architect's dream; fancy, and yet ancient at the same time.

The floor was made of the kind of marble that only belongs in the home of a very wealthy family. Several chandeliers hung from the ceiling a good hundred feet above us, making the area look rather like a cathedral, or else a historic ballet theater.

As I looked around the interior of the hotel, you might think that I would have felt a certain sense of elation at the fact that I, an 18-year-old boy from an upper middle class (but not wealthy) family, got to stay at a place this nice. You might think that it excited me, that I was very grateful for it.

Instead, I felt sad and guilty.

Sad, because we could only spend one night here before leaving for a difficult jungle hike. Guilty, because I knew that someone else was paying a very pretty penny for us to stay here. (My father had told me this, that he didn't have to pay for the room; it was provided by the IRAA).

After everything had been sorted out, the receptionist at the hotel, a young woman (maybe 19 or 20 years old and wearing a fiery red dress that probably cost at least five thousand dollars), handed my father the room key.

"Here is your room key; you're in Room 547. If you have any more questions, feel free to come back down to the front desk and…".

"There's one more thing" my father told her.

I waited, my heart pounding just in case it was bad news. Fortunately, it wasn't.

My dad reopened his wallet and handed the receptionist a light orange business card. To a casual observer, it might have looked totally innocuous, but I knew that this was to certify that he was here for the expedition, and therefore his room was being paid for by somebody else.

The young woman examined the card for about five or six seconds before handing it back to my father. "Ah, you are with the Inter-Regional Archaeological Association?"

"That's right!" my father replied with excitement. "This is my son, Bradley".

Normally, I was rather shy when being introduced to others, partly owing to my own experiences in school, when I was shunned for being so fixated on ancient civilizations. This time was no different, but I tried not to blush as I looked into the receptionist's eyes.

She did look pretty good in that dress, but I shook that thought out of my mind. I was here for a purpose, and that purpose was not to find a girlfriend whom I'd never be able to go back to.

"It's nice to meet you, Bradley," she told me. "Enjoy your stay at the Alolan Palace, and I'm sorry that it's only one night".

"It's okay" I replied as casually as possible. "At least I'll be leaving on an adventure tomorrow".

Once we left the front desk, we wandered around the lobby. There were several restaurants on the ground floor, all of which looked very pricey indeed. Eating even one meal there would be almost unthinkable to anyone middle class or below.

There was an Italian restaurant, a Mexican restaurant, an Irish pub, an ice cream parlor...basically whatever you could want.

"This isn't where we'll be eating dinner, by the way" my father told me as we were in the fancy elevator up to the fifth floor.

"Oh? Where?" I asked him. This was one part of the itinerary he hadn't told me about yet.

"We'll be eating at the IRAA's Atticus headquarters" my dad replied. "But before dinner, we have to get the gear check done".

"Gear check?" I asked, having completely blanked out on that.

He looked at me with a very stern expression, as though he were trying not to be angry. Which, of course, was probably the case.

"We're going to make sure that we all have everything we need for the expedition. The last thing you want is to be underprepared".

I nodded, because of course that made sense. Of course; my brain had just been completely unable to think of it at that moment, and it was really rather embarrassing.

"So when are we going over there?"

My father looked over his glasses at his digital watch. "The cab's going to come in about half an hour and take us there. Don't unpack too much; we're only here for one night".

Thanks for reminding me, I thought, somewhat bitterly.

Once we were in our room, Room 547, I looked around at the two king beds, both with beautiful sky blue sheets, not unlike the color of the nearby ocean. The headboards were shaped like golden crowns, making this look like a place specifically designed for royalty.

Honestly, I like feeling like royalty. Too bad it's only for one night, though.

My father went into the bathroom to shave, and I hopped onto the bed and laid down there. It had been a very long day, and what could very well be the most stressful part of it had yet to come.

I should think that I have earned some rest.

Within a minute of lying down on the bed, "rest" turned into "sleep".

I'd really like to hear what you guys thought of this chapter. It was an enjoyable one to write, that's for sure, and I'm looking forward to exploring this new world of Alola more.

So did I do a good job? Please review and tell me, as that is the only way I can know what I'm doing well and what I may not be.