The Mayan Apocalypse

by Mark Hitchcock

  “You are one sick puppy. You know that, don’t you? You’re the only guy who could be happy about that kind of news.”

  “Why not? It proves the Mayans were right. It also proves I’m right—again.”

  Dr. Michael Alexander hung up the phone, looked at the office door he had closed a few moments before, and gazed through the door’s window. No one was watching him, but that gave him no relief.

  He moved his gaze to the customized BlackBerry he held. Charles Balfour had given him the phone and told him to use it if he learned anything interesting. Although he hadn’t said so, Dr. Alexander assumed it was encrypted. He hoped so. He might be the director of the European Space Agency’s Near Earth Orbit Laboratory, but he wasn’t free to discuss his discoveries without permission of his superiors. He had been faithful to keep secrets, but three million euros had a way of dissolving an underpaid scientist’s commitment. Besides, all he did was make a phone call.

  He swiveled his chair so he could face the large computer monitor on a side desk and reviewed the frightening discovery again.

  Finding objects in near-Earth orbit—NEOs—was not unusual. There were nearly two million objects near the earth. Most were small, and the majority would never come near the planet. Still, some did come uncomfortably close as they sailed through space at high rates of speed. Small objects—ten meters across or so—came within a quarter million miles of Earth on a weekly basis. Larger objects were another matter.

  One such object, an asteroid called 2010 GA6, passed within the moon’s orbit in April of 2010. In astronomical terms, 200,000 miles was a close flyby, but it presented no danger to the planet.

  Every once in a while, an unexpected object, previously unseen, made an appearance and gained the attention of scientists who monitor such things.

  One of the prospective end-of-the-world scenarios described by scientists and doomsayers is that of a large body from space hitting Earth. It had happened in the distant past. But no such major event had occurred in recent history.

  The last thought made him pause. He knew better than that. Eugene Shoemaker of the US Geological Survey estimated that a space object large enough to release the amount of energy given off by the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima hits Earth about once a year. These go largely unnoticed because they occur in unpopulated areas or the ocean.

  He thought of the reports of impacts that took place in historical times. In 1490, 10,000 people in China’s Shanxi Province were killed by stones falling from the sky; most likely fragments from the breakup of a large asteroid. Many scientists dismissed the number of fatalities as an exaggeration, but that didn’t matter. People died.

  A twenty-kilometer-wide ocean crater on the New Zealand shelf southwest of Stewart Island was most likely caused by a large impact. Ice core samples place the event in 1143.

  Of course, the most famous recent event occurred in the Tunguska region of Siberia. In 1908, an asteroid or comet—scientists still argue about this—exploded three to six miles above the ground. The airburst felled eight million trees over an area of 850 square miles.

  Such events happened, and there was nothing to say it couldn’t happen again. The fact that a cataclysm had yet to occur over a populated area meant nothing. It was, to Alexander’s mind, just dumb luck.

  On his screen were several telescopic photographs showing white dots in the background. One dot was larger than the others, and when compared to photos taken later, the dot showed that the object it represented was moving—and moving fast.

  The calculations were early, and many things could happen in the days ahead, but if the early numbers were right, 2012 GA12 would smack Earth right on the nose.

  Alexander opened his desk drawer, removed a plastic bottle, and poured a half-dozen Tums into his mouth.

  To Andrew Morgan, the only thing keeping this from being the “third degree” were hot lights and threats of a jail term. Donny and Janie entered the room from Janie’s office before Jaz Kinkade had finished closing the office door behind him.

  “You okay?” Donny looked concerned.

  “I’m fine. Why, don’t I look okay?” Morgan stood and stretched his back.

  “You know what I mean. Did the guy threaten you or try to extort money or favors—”

  “No. You’d be the first to know, and the cops would be the second.”

  “I was worried.” Janie rocked from side to side, something she did when nervous.

  “You guys worry too much. I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

  “So…what? I’m not needed anymore?” Donny feigned hurt.

  “You know what I mean. What was the guy going to do to me in my own office?”

  “He could do plenty.” A muscle in Donny’s neck twitched. “You shouldn’t have sent me from the room.”

  “You can’t attend every meeting.” Morgan sank back into his chair.

  “Your other meetings are planned, and you know the people around you. This guy was a stranger, and I’ll bet a year’s salary he’s up to no good.”

  “You might lose.”

  “I doubt it, boss. I doubt it.”

  “Well, aren’t you going to tell us what he wanted?” Janie stopped swaying.

  “Nope. It was for my ears only.”

  “That’s not fair.” Janie paused. “Okay, I know it’s none of my business, but it’s all so mysterious.”

  “Sorry, Janie, I trust you with almost everything, but some things have to be kept under wraps for now. Just know that I’m not in danger or being blackmailed or being forced to sell plastic kitchen products.”

  “Pity,” she said. “I could use a new spatula.”

  “You need to fill me in, boss, and not me only, but the rest of security.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why: Oil execs like you get kidnapped all the time. Colombia. Russia—”

  “We’re in the US, Donny.”

  “I know, but we’re also in the age of homegrown terrorists. CEOs make great targets. I don’t know what this guy said, but he could be setting you up for something unpleasant.”

  “Feel free to investigate him. He gave us his name and that of his real business.”

  Donny ran a hand over his head. “After he lied to us.” He hesitated. “Besides, I did a quick check on him.”

  “And?” Morgan leaned over his desk.

  “No criminal record. His company seems to be real. He does have a police record—”

  “He’s been arrested?” Janie raised a hand to her chest.

  “I didn’t say that. He has a police record because he used to be a cop in San Francisco.”

  Morgan lifted an eyebrow. “And how did you learn that?”

  Donny shrugged. “I know a guy who knows a guy who—”

  “—who knows a guy. I get it. Ask you no questions so you’ll tell me no lies.” Morgan pulled at his lower lip. “So no criminal record. That’s good.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. There are thousands of criminals with no record.”

  “I suppose so. Well, it was only a meeting—nothing more. And there’s nothing for you two mother hens to worry about.”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling,” Janie said.

  Donny agreed.

  Morgan turned to Janie. “Anything new on my schedule?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, I need to do some thinking. Cancel the rest of my day.”

  Janie looked surprised. “Things are starting to back up.”

  “I’ll work late tonight. For now, I need to noodle on a few things. Let’s go, Donny.”

  “Where we heading?”

  “The gym. I think best when I’m sweating.”

  “Eww.” Janie grimaced.

  Morgan snickered, rose, and started for the door.

  “Oh,” Janie called after him. “I almost forgot. That Lisa Campbell called again.”

  “Did you take a message?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now shred it.”

&nbs
p; Garrett Vickers strode into the offices of the Christian Herald like a man with no cares.

  “Oh, you had better have a good reason for showing up three hours late.” Lisa cast a stern look at the young man and crossed her arms. Red rimmed his eyes.

  “Late? Am I late?” Innocence hung on Garrett’s face like a mask.

  “You know you are. Your second day, and already you’ve ticked off the boss.”

  “I’m related to the boss, remember?”

  “I wouldn’t play that card right now if I were you. He might make you put salt on it and eat it.”

  “Did you just use a poker metaphor?”

  Lisa tried to remain stern. “There are many other card games, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. Anyway, this is the age of technology and information. Just because I’m not physically present doesn’t mean I haven’t been working. Truth is, I’ve been working all night.”

  “You look it. Aren’t those the same clothes you wore yesterday?”

  “Maybe.”

  “No maybe about it. You do have other clothes, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I got plenty of gear. Not to worry.”

  “You might want to worry. Your uncle didn’t look too pleased when I told him you hadn’t come in.”

  Garrett looked aghast. “Why would you tell him that?”

  Lisa frowned. “First, because he asked, and second, because— well, you were missing in action.”

  “I just told you I’ve been up all night.”

  Lisa could believe her ears. “News I could have used when this day started. How am I supposed to know you’re working from home? In fact, who asked you to?”

  “I’m showing initiative.”

  “Is that what you’re showing?” Lisa stood. “If I were you, I’d pay a visit to your uncle. And don’t blame me for you choosing to pull an all-nighter. I know I gave you a lot of material to read, but I didn’t give you that much.” She moved out of her work space.

  “Wait, where are you going?”

  “Away.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because I take my job seriously.” She started for the lobby.

  “I take my job seriously. Why do you think I stayed up all night? I have stuff to show you.”

  She looked over her shoulder. “Later, kid. I don’t want to miss my flight.”

  She heard him say something but didn’t bother to process it. Her mind was already in Oklahoma.

  Every stride on the treadmill made Morgan’s back ache a little more. He wasn’t worried about injury. He knew himself well enough to differentiate between pain caused by injury and pain caused by tension. Some people carried tension in their necks, and others got headaches. Morgan’s lower back tightened whenever the weight of life pressed him down. Exercise was his elixir.

  He read the red display on the treadmill. He had put in only two miles. He was dogging it. But then again, his mind was racing. At least something was working at speed.

  Even though it was the middle of the workday, the Rockpoint Fitness Gym was busy. It was always busy. Many execs struck deals on the golf course. Others, especially the younger junior execs, preferred to exchange ideas while sweating.

  The emotional stew bubbling inside him decreased to a simmer. What was happening?

  A meteor strikes an Arizona mechanic’s workshop, a volcano erupts with unexpected force, and now I get an unsettling visit from a man who seems to be more than he’s telling.

  Morgan glanced at Donny, who stood to the side, his suit perfectly aligned and covering a well-muscled body. Sometimes he threw the iron around with Morgan, but today he declined the offer. He had made several passes through the open expanse of the gym and the upper floor. The guard/chauffeur was edgy. Morgan could sense it on the drive over. Donny fidgeted in the driver’s seat, changed lanes more frequently than usual, and checked his mirrors every few seconds. Morgan also noticed that Donny took a different route. Paranoia seemed to reach a new high.

  Morgan increased the treadmill’s speed so he was jogging faster than normal. The pain in his back finally gave way and he could enjoy the exertion.

  He wondered about his sanity. Yes, he thought there was something to the 2012 date. Yes, he believed the Mayans had somehow been able to make astronomical observation well beyond the skill and technology level of their time. He had no idea how they did that, but the evidence was clear. The fact they had done what no other people of their time could do was compelling enough for him—so how they had done it mattered little to him. And the fact that other indigenous people separate from but living in the same region had made similar predictions only made the whole concept more reasonable.

  He stared at the glowing red numbers on the treadmill’s console but read nothing. His mind had charted a course of its own.

  How things had changed. Some would suggest his interest in the Mayan predictions stemmed from the loss of his family. It didn’t. He had always been interested in those concepts that bordered science. It was true that his interest increased in the months that followed the tragedy. It gave his mind something else to focus on other than this blazing grief.

  Still, he had changed. He loved his work less and loved being gone more. He had to force himself to come into the office, make himself listen during meetings, and mentally whip himself to lead his company. More and more, he found himself longing for his days in the field, working for his father as a geologist. Those days were gone. And if the Mayans were right, they would be gone forever.

  The image of Jasper Kinkade came to mind. Morgan was an astute judge of character. He could spot a liar across a crowded room. He knew within moments of meeting someone if he wanted to do business with him. Kinkade struck Morgan as honest…or at least someone who believed the story he was telling.

  Not long ago, he would have refused to meet with someone using Kinkade’s approach, and once the person admitted to lying, Morgan would have chucked him from the office. He was a man who loved his privacy, and knowing that people had been investigating him made him furious. But at hearing Quetzal’s name, Morgan had set aside his usual caution. Quetzal was going out of his way to help people see and prepare for the coming cataclysm. Morgan admired that.

  Still, it was an odd way of making contact. He didn’t imagine that Quetzal could make personal visits, not with the scores of speaking engagements Morgan had seen on the man’s website.

  It felt so real. Would Quetzal really call him? What would he say? Why me? Didn’t Kinkade say there were thousands who wanted my seat? So let them have it. Whatever a seat meant.

  Morgan couldn’t let go. He had until the end of the day to decide, but decide what? Kinkade hadn’t given him enough information to make a decision. That made the man more believable. A truthful man never laid everything on the table all at once. Deceivers never stopped talking. Kinkade acted as if he didn’t care if Morgan warmed to him or the idea. That made everything all the more intriguing.

  Sweat soaked Morgan’s shirt. His lungs burned. His calf muscles complained. He was having a great time.

  Jaz Kinkade returned the rental at the airport and walked to the terminal serving charter flights. One hour later, he was airborne and on his way to Texas.

  “So what’d she say?”

  Necco’s voice sounded distant and sleep-deprived over the cell connection.

  Garrett paced the employee break room. “Nothing. I didn’t get to talk to her. She told me I was late and that I should go see my uncle. Then she took off for the airport.”

  “Where’s she going?”

  “How should I know? She tossed me off like I was a dirty shirt.”

  Necco chuckled. “Sounds like my boy is in love.”

  “Yuck, dude. She’s old. Gotta be mid-thirties.”

  “It’s a wonder she doesn’t need a cane.”

  “You know what I mean, man. She’s too old for me…still, she is pretty hot.” Garrett heard keyboard keys clacking over the phone. Necco never gave up.

  “
What’d your uncle do to you?” More tapping keys.

  “Nuthin’. He never yells, but he can make you feel like three-week-old garbage with just a glance. He looked disappointed. That’s what bothers me the most. He’s a good guy.”

  “But you still have your job?”

  “Yeah, but I’d better not screw up again, or I’ll be baggin’ groceries. Jobs are still hard to find.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Garrett laughed. “You live with your mother. When was the last time you held a job, or even looked for one?”

  “I’m not a cubicle gofer like you. I need my creativity—my space.”

  “The FBI has another name for what you do.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just a pure-hearted geek…Oklahoma City.”

  “Sure you are—what?”

  “Oklahoma City. That’s where your new girlfriend is going.”

  “I told you she’s not my girlfriend. She’s old enough to be my—older sister. Besides, I’ve only known her a little more than a day.”

  “Love at first sight is always the best. Why would she go to OC?”

  “That’s where that Morgan guy lives.”

  “The guy you had me research last night.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You know you owe me big time, right?”

  “I fed you and gave you a place to crash.”

  “Yeah, right,” Necco said. “I haven’t had a chance to crash yet.”

  “Since Lisa is gone, you might as well get some sleep.”

  “I came up with a few more things. I e-mailed them to you. This Quetzal guy has got it going on. He’s got several offshore accounts. Is that legal for a nonprofit?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll find out. Now get some sleep. I may need you later.”

  “Nighty night.”

  Lisa spent the time at the airport and in the air thinking through her approach. The cramped seating on the airbus jet made her wish for the comfy leather seats she enjoyed on Andrew Morgan’s private jet. Fortunately, it was a short flight.

  Once on the ground, she rented a small sedan, drove to the Morgan Natural Energy building in downtown Oklahoma City, and circled the block several times. There were two main entrances to the underground parking. One was marked for the public, and the other had no signage but a lift-arm barricade. She hoped it was the private entrance used by upper management. Six more trips around the block, and she found an open parking space next to the curb that afforded an unobstructed view of the entrance.