The Final Reality (Alex Pella, #3)

by Stephen Martino

  The colonel quickly knelt at the fallen soldier’s side. Blood gushed from his throat as the man lay motionless on the ground. The colonel then detached the man’s helmet and removed it from his head.

  Blank, cold eyes stared upward in an undeniable gaze of death; a look the colonel recognized all too well. Without another option, the colonel placed a white handkerchief over the soldier’s face. There was nothing further he could do.

  Jules went up to the golden door the three men had been guarding. Not taking any chances, he held the shield in one hand and the spear in the other. Like an ancient Roman preparing for battle, he pushed open the door, expecting a fight.

  His eyes merely met with beauty and not war. Standing with her arms to the side, a stunning Tibetan-looking woman stood at the room’s entrance. Dressed in a flowing white gown with similar emblems and writings as the men outside the door, she held up her hands and began to plead with them in a foreign language.

  “Who are you?” Jules asked.

  Before she could answer, the woman was taken aback at the sight of the shield. “Please,” she attempted to say now in English, unable to keep her eyes off of it. “We mean you no harm here.”

  “We meant you no harm either,” Jules said, entering the circular room, “until your people began opening fire on us.”

  “Where did you get that?” she asked, pointing to the shield. “The key,” she uttered in hushed breath.

  “It was a little present from my dear old uncle,” Jules said. “A most magnificent object, isn’t it? Now if you could kindly tell me what it has to do with this place here, I will bid you a good day.”

  “Nothing,” she responded indignantly as the remaining WOG grabbed her hands and pulled them behind her. “It has nothing to do with this place—and neither do you.”

  “You are mistaken. There is a secret here, and I must find it.” Jules looked over to her and offered a friendly smile.” Your help would be greatly appreciated.”

  The woman spat on the ground and cursed him in her native tongue. Before she could continue her rant, the WOG behind her placed his gloved hand across her mouth, curtailing further admonishments.

  “Well then,” Jules commented, “I can see that your accommodations are just as inviting as your friends. Let’s hope that you don’t meet their same end.”

  Jules then took his eyes off the woman and appraised the room. Around its perimeter hung elegant tapestries, each of a separate design and color. It almost reminded him of different countries’ flags or a family’s coat of arms. But it was the center of the room that captured his main attention. There, a magnificent football-shaped crystal levitated in the air. Surrounded by four smaller crystals rotating around it, the site brought him a calming feeling and made all aggression leave his body.

  As if being called by an ancient Siren, Jules walked methodically over to the crystal. Handing the shield to the colonel, he said not another word.

  “Don’t go any further!” pleaded the woman, shaking her head violently to free her mouth. “Get out! You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  Jules smiled. He knew what he was doing. This crystal in front of him was somehow connected to the shield, and more importantly, it tied directly into the Earth’s electromagnetic grid—with power strong enough to neuter modern technology. He knew that he must have it.

  Below the crystals, Jules noted the outline of a bull’s head with undecipherable cuneiform writing etched in the floor around it. A silvery fluid flowed within the crevices and undulated more vigorously upon his approach.

  As Jules reached out for the main crystal, the woman’s pleas grew in intensity. Her words fell on deaf ears as he grabbed the large crystal in the center.

  “No!” the woman screamed.

  The four other crystals surrounding it fell to the ground, smashing into pieces upon impact. The same silver fluid in the floor’s crevices began to ooze down the walls and seep into the beautiful tapestries. The room then began to shake, and a large crack formed through the direct center of the floor.

  “Let’s get to the surface,” Jules commanded while walking over to the room’s entrance. “And take her.”

  A piece of the ceiling came crashing down next to where he had been standing only an instant before. The ambient light illuminating the room flickered and slowly dimmed, eventually leaving the area engulfed in blackness.

  Jules could hear what sounded like the walls collapsing and felt a few rocks pelt his head and body. He knew this entire room was about to collapse and realized that the entirety of Pumapunku might do the same.

  Chapter 10

  Chapter_10

  Jules instinctively reached for his auricular chip. “Evacuate. All evacuate.”

  Nothing but static and the faint sound of distant voices answered his command.

  Still dead down here, he surmised.

  Jules continued walking towards the door as if nothing unusual was happening. Though the room was completely dark, he adeptly kept his bearings despite the violent tremors around him. “Colonel,” he yelled, “follow the sound of my voice.”

  The Tibetan woman continued to curse them. Despite not understanding the language, Jules comprehended her meaning. Whatever he did had upset some planetary balance; now they all were paying the consequences.

  A rock crashed down on Jules’ shoulder, almost dislodging the crystal from his hands. Knife-like pain shot down his arm in response as a burning heat momentarily overwhelmed the appendage.

  “You have the shield and our guest!” Jules yelled, ignoring the pain. He knew that he needed to continue to talk so that his men and their captive could follow. Pain or no pain, they all needed to escape.

  Both men acknowledged him with an affirmative.

  A glimmer of light in front of him let Jules know he was heading in the correct direction. “Avoid the bodies on the ground. Keep moving… moving.”

  Jules reiterated the words over and over, turning himself into a verbal beacon for his men to track. He then began to ascend the staircase at full speed. Looking back, he saw the two men and their captive not far behind.

  Upon exiting the cave, Jules noted the outside had fared no better. The earth violently shook as deep cracks opened in numerous places along its surface. In the distance, he could see one of the striker crafts on its side rapidly being swallowed up by the earth.

  The heliocrafts were no longer flying, and the hover-rams lay dormant. WOGs stumbled along the ground, abandoning their equipment. All were attempting to take shelter in one of the available striker crafts. The archeologists and tourists visiting the area made their way to the ships but were denied entry. With either the butt of a rifle or elbow to the face, the WOGs let them know they weren’t welcome.

  “Into the stratoskimmer,” Jules turned and yelled as he again touched his auricular chip and gave the order for all to evacuate.

  Drew stood at the ship’s doorway. With the stairs halfway retracted, he made sure no unwanted guest would board the ship.

  The area began to shake more violently. One of the striker craft began to sputter as it attempted to take flight. Despite its initial ascent, gravity won the battle and sent it crashing back down to the ground. It struck with a massive thud, twisting the ship in the process and disfiguring its once sleek façade.

  The stairs to the stratoskimmer slowly descended upon Jules’ approach. Behind him, he could see that an enormous crevice now occupied the space where the boulder and cave once stood; unfortunately for all of them, its size was widening and heading directly towards his ships.

  Jules jumped onto the steps behind the colonel, WOG soldier, and Tibetan woman. Upon entering the hull, he ran up to the cockpit. “Let’s go, George!” he said. “Time’s not a luxury we currently possess.”

  “The electromagnetic dipoles won’t align,” the pilot said frantically, while attempting to make adjustments on the flickering dashboard. “There is some fluctuating electromagnetic field that is interrupting our equipment.” />
  The ship rocked back and forth as Jules tumbled back into the ship’s hull.

  “Retract that door,” Jules said. “We are about to take flight.”

  “It’s stuck,” announced one of the two WOGs who were manually attempting to close it.

  The stratoskimmer then jerked violently to the side as it took flight, sending one of the soldiers headfirst out of the doorway. Jules instinctively ran over to the door, hoping the man might somehow be holding on to the stairs.

  Instead of finding a WOG when Jules looked out of the ship, he saw the land west of Pumapunku collapsing into the ocean. What was once over 12,000 feet above sea level now resided under the great Pacific. Jules stood at the doorway, impressed with the raw power of Mother Nature.

  More ocean to sail, Jules thought wryly.

  “Mr. Windsor,” said one of the WOGs. “Sir, the shield is secured.” The soldier then presented the ancient artifact to Jules.

  “Good work,” Jules responded, taking the shield. Now staring at it and the young woman that they had commandeered in Pumapunku, he could only fathom what further secrets they would both reveal.

  The ship rocked slightly back and forth, hurling one of the WOGs against the hull’s wall.

  “Somehow,” Drew conjectured, while analyzing a fuzzy, blinking holograph above his wrist, “taking the crystal from Bolivia has completely disrupted the world grid. The whole thing is in flux and appears to be growing more unstable by the minute.”

  Jules walked over the woman. Pure hatred shone in her eyes. With his free hand, he placed it on her chin, and she responded by attempting to bite him.

  “No worries,” Jules said, tightening his grip on the much smaller woman. “We may have the solution right here.”

  Before she could answer, the ship dropped violently. Jules could barely hold onto the shield as he was thrown over one of the white couches. Moans and screams rang out throughout the hull as the stratoskimmer attempted to stabilize.

  A WOG, still with his visor in place, ran over to Jules and held out a helping hand. Jules reached up and grabbed it. “That’s the way to do it,” he commended. “However, instead of bringing him to his feet, the WOG slammed his elbow violently down on Jules’ face.

  Jules’ head thumped onto the floor as the plush rug did little to lessen the blow.

  The WOG then took the shield from Jules’ hand. “Expectation, Julius,” the helmeted soldier said. “Expectation.”

  Stunned, Jules laid on his back as if staring at a ghost. Though the man’s face was covered, his identity was not hidden. His old nemesis had somehow survived. The fear that had been haunting him for over a year was now being fully realized. The only man in the world with the cunning, intellect, and bravado to threaten both him and The New Reality was alive.

  “Alexander Pella,” Jules groaned as blood sputtered out of his badly bruised lip.

  The WOG then ran over to the hull’s doorway and jumped out of the ship. The rest of the soldiers in the stratoskimmer never knew what happened. In the commotion, they just assumed he had accidentally fallen to his death.

  Seeing an opportunity, however remote, the Tibetan woman grabbed the crystal which had fallen free and followed Alex. Without hesitation, she jumped out of the ship a brief second after he made the plunge.

  Jules leapt to his feet and ran to the cockpit. “The electromagnetic dipoles are continuing to fluctuate,” the pilot frantically said. “It’s almost impossible to keep this ship in the air.”

  Strapping himself into the copilot’s chair, Jules waved his hands along the ship’s dashboard. He no longer cared if he and the stratoskimmer plummeted to the ground; if he took Alex with him, it would be worth the loss.

  “There he is!” Jules said, pulling up a holographic picture of a stratoskimmer on the windshield. Unlike the ship they were flying, this one appeared to be modified with larger engines along the side and two smaller ones under its wider wings.

  “Let’s blast it out of the sky,” Jules said as the steering wheel he grasped expanded along the sides and a red bullseye appeared on the stratoskimmer displayed on the windshield.

  Chapter 11

  Chapter_11

  Alex threw off his mask and ran to the ship’s cockpit. Still with a very youthful appearance, he looked easily ten years younger than his actual age of forty-six. He was a handsome man with olive skin, thick, black curly hair, broad shoulders and strong facial features.

  “Tom, deploy electrostatic fog,” he ordered. “They must have a lock on us by now.”

  “I’m trying,” the pilot responded. “It’s just not working. Nothing’s working. You’re lucky I was even able to stabilize the ship long enough for you to dock with us. Another second longer and you would have missed us completely.”

  “Don’t interrupt the pilot when he’s trying to fly the ship,” blurted a man built like a linebacker, sitting in the copilot’s seat. Wearing a dirty, red hat with only the letters G and R visible above the brim and a crumpled outfit, he looked as if he had been sleeping in his clothes for months. Grabbing onto the chair while attempting not to hyperventilate, the man sputtered, “We’re not going to make it.”

  “Deep breath, William,” Alex soothed while looking at the electrostatic smog readiness readout on the dashboard.

  Sizzling smoke then began to encase their entire ship, obscuring all visibility outside the windshield as the readout flashed green on the dashboard. “That should jam their sensors long enough for us to get out of here,” Tom said confidently.

  “I was sure we were going to die,” William gasped.

  Alex smiled. His old friend had been there for him from the first day they met. Except for a few extra pounds and a little less hair, William had not changed much at all. The two of them had been college roommates, and they remained in close contact ever since. While Alex went for his PhDs in bioengineering and neuroscience, William pursued his medical interests and became a virologist. Although appearing as if he could cultivate many new strains of viruses or bacteria simply by allowing them to thrive on his unkempt clothing, he was an extremely successful scientist and had provided invaluable help to Alex on multiple occasions.

  “Please tell me you at least got the shield,” William said, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

  How times have changed, William thought. Back in college, he was the one getting Alex in trouble. Whether it was joining a crazy fraternity, staying out all night partying, or engaging in something of questionable legality, he always found a way to have a good time. In fact, it was his personal mission to pull Alex’s head away from the computer screen or out of the robotics lab long enough for them to have some fun together.

  “We must take The Mark to Nan Madol,” the Tibetan woman pleaded as she also entered the back of the cockpit. “It’s our only hope.”

  “That does not look like the shield,” William commented, cocking his head. “In fact, I would conjecture that looks more like a person than a shield.”

  And a certainly beautiful person.

  “It’s not a shield,” Alex commented, “it’s a key.”

  “She’ll be traced,” interrupted an equally lovely and sophisticated woman unstrapping herself from the seat behind William. With her vibrant green eyes, long, brown hair, fair skin, and athletic figure, Alex could not help but smile every time he looked at her.

  “You’re right, Marissa,” Alex said to his fiancée. “You better administer her a dose of the biotag ablator.”

  “One step ahead of you,” she commented. As a physician and past member of the National Institutes of Health medical team, she was well equipped to handle most emergent medical situations. Grabbing a half-dollar sized sphere, she twisted it once and pulled it apart into two halves.

  “Hold still,” Marissa said gently, putting each half up to the Tibetan’s woman’s neck and pressing them against her skin. “In a few moments, The New Reality won’t be able to track you.”

  “But I don’t have these—what did you
call them—biotags,” she protested.

  “We all have biotags,” Marissa said, “unless we’ve been inoculated against them. The New Reality dispersed them throughout the atmosphere and into the world’s water supply. Once inside your body, they divide and attach to your nascent red blood cell’s DNA. The biotags are then able to transmit a unique, personalized quantum signal that The New Reality can utilize to track the entirety of the world’s population.”

  Marissa then grabbed an IV bag from a drawer in the ship’s hull and slapped the end of the IV line on the top of the woman’s chest. Taking a few other vials from the drawer, she pressed them against the bag so that their crimson, gold, and violet contents mixed together with the fluid inside of it. “Lay down on the couch in the ship’s hull,” she instructed, watching the woman grow weak in the knees as the biotag ablator went to work.

  “But we must get the Mark,” she said, holding onto the crystal.

  “Rest,” Marissa responded with compassion. “I’m going to strap you in for your safety.”

  The woman wanted to oppose, but her weakness made her capitulate.

  Marissa then turned to Alex and gave him a huge hug; she didn’t want to let go. Every time Alex left, she feared she would never see him again. Though it was over a year since she thought she’d lost him forever, the fear still lingered.

  Marissa remembered how her fiancé Alex Pella and Jules Windsor once teamed up together to destroy The New Reality and remove its crooked leader, Myra Keres, from office.

  Marissa cringed at the thought of how Jules double-crossed Alex; instead of bringing down The New Reality, Jules had usurped control of the entire company and tried to kill Alex. Though he put an end to Myra’s tyrannical reign and her life, he attempted to do the same for Alex.