by Steve Alten
The scientist nods. ‘What happened?’
‘No time to explain, just hold on.’
A low rumbling sound, like a generator, echoes throughout the hangar, quickly increasing to a dull thunder.
The gantry trembles, sending the crowd rushing toward the nearest exits.
Lilith is flung free of the nexus as the long-dormant engines of the Balam power up. An invisible wave of electromagnetic energy is expelled from beneath the hull, blasting bodies, equipment, and ten years of dust in all directions.
Beneath this cushion of energy, the alien starship rises. Dorsal plates punch upward through the roof. Steel beams and metal sheeting tumble like kindling.
Lilith pulls herself free from beneath the fallen gantry and looks up, screaming her outrage, as the starship Balam disappears into the approaching gray storm clouds of Super-Cane Kenneth.
Delray Beach, Florida
11:37 p.m.
One-hundred-thirty-mile-an-hour gusts whip through the deserted streets of Dade, Broward, and Palm Beach Counties, announcing the arrival of Super-Cane Kenneth’s outer wind bands. The once-tranquil ocean swells thirty-five feet, the storm surge submerging the beach before pouring over sea walls to inundate scenic highway A-1-A. Waves lap against storefronts. A driving rain lashes palm fronds and debris, turning refuse into miniature missiles.
And the superstorm’s eye is still nine hours out to sea.
Cuddling beneath the blanket, Immanuel Gabriel curls his naked body around Lauren, nuzzling her neck, while outside, fierce winds hammer the steel hurricane storm shutters.
‘I feel safe in your arms,’ Lauren whispers.
‘I missed you.’
‘Why you were at the Cape?’
‘I was … visiting a relative.’
She rolls over to face him. ‘Who?’
‘My mother. My biological mother.’
‘I don’t understand?’
‘Lauren, I was adopted. I never told you about it because, well, I sort of wrote them out of my life long ago.’
She sits up. ‘Them?’
‘I have a brother. I saw him this week for the first time in six years. He has problems, mental problems. My mother may have to put him in an asylum. That’s why I had to come up to the Cape this week. She wanted me to see him before he’s locked away.’
‘I don’t know what to say. Are you okay with all this?’
‘Guess I’m a little screwed up.’
‘Can I meet them?’
‘Someday.’
She lays her head on his chest. ‘All this time, I had this terrible premonition you were getting ready to leave me.’
He swallows the lump in his throat. ‘I’m not leaving you.’
‘Promise?’
The wind howls outside and he hugs her tighter. ‘I’m not leaving you, Lauren. I promise.’
Hope Control Room, MTI Operational Headquarters,
Cocoa Beach, Florida
Saturday
2:35 a.m.
Lilith Mabus is in her late husband’s private office, seated before a wall of computer monitors. The upper two rows are real-time links being broadcast from NATS—Nanosat Trailblazer Spheres—cluster satellites, no larger than a basketball. Thousands of these spheres orbit the Earth, scanning every square inch of the planet.
Despite NATS extensive coverage, the alien starship is nowhere to be found.
‘Computer, replay security sequence.’
Another set of screens activate, revealing different angles of the perimeter security fencing surrounding Hangar 13.
The figure of a dark-haired man appears on screen. He crosses the compound and heads for the fence. Pauses, then practically vaults over the steel barrier before disappearing into the night.
Lilith’s azure eyes widen. ‘Computer, rewind and replay sequence at half speed.’
The image begins again.
‘Freeze. Focus on subject’s face. Increase magnification by ten.’
A blue square frames the man’s face, expanding and focusing.
The image of Samuel Agler appears on screen, frozen in time.
Jacob’s twin … the dark-haired one still lives! ‘Computer, identify subject.’
SAMUEL AGLER, IDENTIFICATION 13-9-23-FL-742-45-M. SUBJECT IS A PCAA ATHLETE CURRENTLY ENROLLED AT THE UNIVERSITY OF MIAMI.
Lilith claps her hands in delight. ‘Samuel, “the Mule” Agler is Immanuel Gabriel? Computer, tap into all government resources and communication links. Check identifications in all storm shelters and every mode of transportation. I want Samuel Agler found before dawn.’
Delray Beach, Florida
7:50 a.m.
Super-Cane Kenneth’s fury rips across South Florida’s landmass like a mad bull, uprooting trees, peeling away antiquated tile roofs, churning the community beneath a blizzard of wind and water.
Guided by its autopilot, the black stretch limousine finds its way through the storm, eventually arriving at the estate registered to Frank Stansbury. The vehicle parks itself beneath the huge porte cochere. A woman dashes for the front door.
Dominique shakes water from her hair, then hugs Ennis Chaney. ‘Where is he?’
‘In the shower. His fiancée’s here, too.’
‘Lauren’s here? Has he told her?’
‘He said he would.’
Lauren enters the foyer, dressed in a sweat suit. ‘Has he told me what? Who are you?’
Dominique turns on a smile. ‘I’m Immanuel’s mother. It’s so good to finally meet you.’
Lauren looks lost. ‘Immanuel? Who’s Immanuel?’
‘I am.’ Manny exits the bathroom.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Lauren, this is my real mother, Dominique Gabriel.’
‘Gabriel? Immanuel Gabriel …’ She makes the connection. ‘Oh, no … oh my God—’
‘Lauren—’
She pushes him away, then covers her mouth, fighting to breath. ‘But you’re dead. And Sam … who’s Sam—’
‘Calm down and listen—’
‘You lied … all these years.’
‘I had to. Can you understand that I had to lie? If word got out—’
‘We have to go,’ Chaney announces.
‘Go where?’ Dominique and Lauren ask in unison.
‘Jacob’s given me very explicit instructions. We’ll take your limo. Dominique, Manny, let’s go. Lauren, you’re supposed to stay here.’
‘No way.’ Lauren grabs Immanuel’s arm. ‘Wherever he goes, I’m going, too.’
‘Out of the question,’ Chaney states.
‘Either she comes, or I stay,’ Immanuel says.
Chaney eyeballs his godson, who returns the old man’s glare. ‘God dammit, I’m too old for this foolishness.’ He looks at Lauren, the girl desperate. ‘Okay, everyone in the goddam car!’
Meteorology Lab, University of Miami
7:50 a.m.
The Meteorology Center is a beehive of activity as dozens of technicians from the Earth Systems Management Agency track Super-Cane Kenneth, its monstrous eye less than twenty miles offshore.
Bruce Doyle stares at the cyclone’s image on his screen.
Sweet Jesus, it’s heading straight for Biscayne Bay …
Two floors down, Special Agent Collin Shelby sips his coffee as he waits for the latest encoded dispatch from UMBRA headquarters in Virginia. Twenty hours earlier, Lauren Beckmeyer’s fiancé had placed an unsecured communication from Miami Beach. Satellite eavesdropping had immediately zeroed in on both subjects, who had headed north and were given shelter in a Delray Beach home registered to a retired airline pilot going by the name of Frank Stansbury. This last bit of information was quite disconcerting. What if it’s another biological attack …
Shelby’s communicator vibrates. He places the sunglasses on his face, reading the encrypted message appearing across the inside of the tinted lenses.
ALERT: SUBJECT’S VEHICLE TRAVELING SOUTH ON
SH-95, HEADING FOR MIAMI.
/>
FLOOD ZONE.
Shelby rubs his sleep-deprived eyes. ‘Flood Zone’ was UMBRA’s term for killing the subject and all witnesses. Whatever act of terrorism this Lauren Beckmeyer and her accomplices were planning had to be something big.
The government assassin checks his weapons, then grabs his rain gear and heads for the door.
Inside the Limousine, Miami Beach, Florida
9:36 a.m.
Immanuel squeezes Lauren’s trembling hand.
They are seated in the back of the swaying limo, along with his mother, Ennis Chaney, and Dr. Mohr’s wife, Eve. The two bodyguards are up front, praying the autopilot will guide them to their undisclosed destination before Super-Cane Kenneth pummels them to death.
The wind is howling so loud, the rain beating on the exterior with such force that communication is impossible. Only the former president knows where they are going, and he refuses to say.
After ninety minutes of steady driving, they exit the Smart-way interstate and snake their way through streets flooded with ocean and rain.
Twenty minutes later, the vehicle abruptly stops.
The rain has eased, the wind turning to a high-pitched whistle, as if they are parked in a tunnel.
Immanuel presses his face to the bulletproof glass. Through the foggy window he sees a brick wall. ‘Wait a second … I know this place.’
Chaney checks his watch. ‘You should. It’s one of the emergency vehicle passageways at the MTI Bowl.’ He taps Kurtz on the shoulder. ‘The eye of the storm should be passing over us any moment. When it does, pop the gate and drive us straight onto the field.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Immanuel’s heart races. Jacob’s orchestrating something … but what?
Lauren stares at him as if they’ve just met. ‘You should have told me … Manny.’
‘I couldn’t. Try to understand, it was a lifetime ago, it’s not who I am.’
‘I don’t know who you are anymore. Do you even love me?’
‘Lauren—’
The wind stops howling.
Ryan Beck steps out of the vehicle, aims his laser rifle, and blasts open the locked gate. Kurtz guides the limo up the concrete ramp, using the vehicle’s reinforced front bumper to bash through the unhinged iron doors.
The limousine climbs a river of water, then drives onto the flooded football field.
Kurtz maneuvers to the fifty yard line and parks. Moments later, the rain stops and the wind ceases blowing. Wisps of blue sky and sunshine warm the drenched field.
They are within the very eye of the storm.
Everyone climbs out of the car, sloshing in calf-deep water.
Lauren looks toward the heavens. ‘How is this possible? How did you know the cyclone’s eye would pass directly over this spot?’
Immanuel Gabriel’s insides are trembling, his mind screaming at him to run, to get the hell out of this stadium while he still can.
‘Look!’ Kurtz points to the approaching western eye wall.
An object has emerged from the foreboding lead gray vortex, the sun’s rays shimmering off the mirrorlike gold panels of its dagger-shaped bow.
The Balam …
Immanuel drops to his knees, hyperventilating as he recalls Jacob’s words. ‘ … the wormhole’s closest mouth will pass outside Mars in a week. To rendezvous in time means we’ll have to leave Earth’s orbit in ninety-eight hours.’
The Guardian’s starship hovers high over the flooded field, then descends, its landing gear splashing onto the flooded field with a walloping thud, its dissipating force field sending waves rippling in every direction.
Ryan Beck is supporting Dominique, who is close to fainting.
Lauren stares at the object, slack-jawed, then spins around to face her fiancé. ‘The Popol Vuh … the legend of the Hero Twins! All this time you knew … you knew you’d be leaving me!’
‘It’s his destiny.’ Jacob descends from a ramp located beneath the starship, Dr. Mohr in tow. Seeing his wife, the teary-eyed NASA scientist slogs through the flooded field and hugs her.
Jacob stares hard at Chaney, his azure eyes violet with anger. ‘I was very specific. The girl wasn’t supposed to be here.’
‘Don’t blame me,’ rasps the former president. ‘Your brother insisted.’
The white-haired twin turns to his brother. ‘Say your good-byes, Manny. We have to board the Balam before the eye passes.’
‘I’m not going,’ Immanuel states.
‘You have no choice.’
‘He said he’s not going,’ Lauren says, stepping in between them.
Jacob ignores her. ‘Manny, you must trust me, there’s nothing for you here. Even if you did stay, Lilith Mabus would hunt you down, and all would be lost.’
‘No.’
‘Then you leave me no choice.’ Jacob slips into the nexus and grabs his twin from behind, subduing him in a full nelson as he forcibly drags him toward the starship.
Immanuel enters the zone, struggling against his overpowering foe. ‘Let … me … go—’
‘For once in your life, trust me!’
‘No!’
‘Humanity’s future depends upon you fulfilling your destiny—’
‘You’re wrong! I wasn’t meant to go! Lauren loves me!’
‘Lauren’s as good as dead.’
‘What?’ A tsunami of rage washes over Immanuel, drenching his muscles with adrenaline. Whirling around, he grabs Jacob’s head in his hands, drops to one knee, and flips his brother over his shoulder, slamming him onto the flooded turf.
Both Hunahpu tumble free from the nexus.
Dominique reaches into the fray, separating her two sons. ‘Jacob, stop! Leave him be. Manny … my God, Manny, your eyes!’
Jacob stares at his twin. Immanuel’s irises are radiating a striking azure blue, just like his own. ‘It’s happening. He’s changing—turning full Hunahpu. Manny, everything will become clear to you soon, but we have to hurry if we have any hope of rescuing Mick.’
‘Mick’s alive?’ Dominique grabs Jacob by his shoulders. ‘How do you know? How can you be sure?’
Immanuel takes Lauren’s hand. ‘Jake claims he speaks to him.’
‘You’ve been speaking with your father? How? Why didn’t you tell me?!’
Jacob glances over his shoulder at the approaching eye wall. ‘We don’t have time for this, we have to hurry. The Balam’s force field can’t manipulate the storm much longer.’
‘You hurry, I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Manny, our destiny’s on Xibalba!’
‘Yours, not mine. I was meant to stay behind. Think about it. The Balam should have opened for me, but it didn’t.’
‘You weren’t full Hunahpu then.’
‘Neither was Mick, but it opened for him.’
‘We don’t have time for this nonsense.’ Jacob turns to Kurtz. ‘Salt, stun him!’
Kurtz shakes his head. ‘Manny said he wants to stay. It’s his choice.’
‘Pep—’
‘Back off, Jake. Let the kid choose.’
Jacob approaches his brother, becoming desperate. ‘Manny, listen—please, it takes two people to resurrect our father and save the Nephilim. I can’t do it alone.’
‘Then take me instead,’ Dominique demands.
‘Mother—’
‘I said, take me!’
‘Impossible.’
‘Impossible? Don’t you tell me impossible! I’ve kowtowed to your every whim for twenty years. I’ve dedicated my life to you and this … this Mayan mythology, all in the hopes of seeing Mick again. Now you’re going to take me to see him!’
*
Collin Shelby hurries through a river of rainwater streaming down the tunnel’s concrete incline. He stays close to the brick wall, remaining in the shadows, as he scans the group of people in the scope of his XE-29 sniper rifle.
Isolated at midfield … like shooting ducks on a pond. Uh-oh … what’s this? He focuses on the three EMP suits worn
by the two bodyguards and one of the women. Have to use the tungsten rounds.
Shelby loads a tungsten dart into the chamber of his rifle, then switches the trigger from taser fire to explosive bullets. Unlike old-fashioned bullets, these lethal projectiles contain the latest biocide, nanoswarm EPI-46, a fast-spreading, human flesh-consuming agent. Any contact ensures a lethal strike.