It didn’t make any sense, yet people refused. En masse, publicly, and privately, millions of individuals and groups made solemn oaths denouncing the inoculation and refusing to be marked, prepared to live or die with the consequences.
Over the next few weeks Zahn’s immunization initiative monopolized world news. Families were torn apart by the dilemma of whether or not to proceed with the vaccinations. The whole world was dividing into friend and family groups.
“How do we know they’re not going to poison us with the injections?” people wondered fearfully. “Maybe it’s a plot, population control …”
“He’s American. The Americans are behind it all; we can’t trust him. They are trying to control the world,” a million voices cried, in dozens of languages.
“He’s a saint.”
“It will turn us into zombies or robots!”
“It’s just like in the Bible! The mark of the beast!” others cried, terrified.
“I’d rather die,” some exclaimed bravely.
“I must be first in line!” others schemed.
The pope, who had gone into hiding, broadcast via the Internet from a secret location. He called upon people of all races and religions to unite. “We are all One. Christian, Muslim, Jew. There is no separation. In this time of darkness, renounce the false prophet and do not be marked! It has been foretold that a beast will come with falseness, cloaked in charm and guile. Do not be fooled! God will protect and reward the brave. Heaven awaits. There is a far better place than this,” he promised.
Holy leaders from around the world continued to argue both for and against vaccination. The pope was called both a saint and the Antichrist by different sides, and the debate raged on the Internet, in the streets, in bars, and in private homes.
Whatever the response, there was panic and discord that fed the dark souls of the world, strengthening their energy and pleasing Grey Elder. Crime was at an all-time high, especially violent crime. There was a noticeable undercurrent everywhere, like the energy of a packed house on fight night after the main event. The crowds were keyed up, their adrenaline and testosterone pumping. Gangs roamed neighborhoods looking for trouble. The innocent and weak were afraid to leave their homes except to work, and most avoided the streets, especially after nightfall. Neighbors didn’t nod and smile at strangers, afraid of who might take exception. Riots and uprising around the globe continued to escalate.
Merchants preyed on the fears of the people, selling weapons and pepper spray by the boatload. Advertisements for alarms, armaments, and self-defense products screamed from the televisions and radios with dire warnings and prophecies. Fear-mongering drug companies infiltrated the collective psyche of the population with rumors, comprehensive advertising campaigns, and Internet blitzes. They recommended bogus antidotes and prescriptions and warned of inevitable shortages. They claimed that children would be the first victims, and terrified, vulnerable parents hoarded supplies, turning their homes into bunkers. All for money, money, money.
Headlines and rumors warned the population to comply and be vaccinated.
“The Unvaccinated May Be Carriers!”
“Non-Compliance Leads Virus To Mutate!”
“Absolute Compliance Is the Only Protection”
“Failure To Vaccinate Endangers All”
“Earthquakes Caused Nobu Outbreak”
No one was safe, but despite the fear-mongering and regardless of the threat, many continued to refuse the injection. They congregated anywhere, despite the risk of repercussions and exposure. Where they gathered there was hope and resistance. It ballooned exponentially around them, and the positive energy was delivered to the chakras of the world like a salve. The resistance was peaceful, but it helped. They joined hands and prayed or wished for or imagined better days, and that positive energy mushroomed.
“Imagine our prayer is a living, breathing entity,” one of the many wise spiritualists preached from a dim basement. “Millions of particles like clouds are channeled by your thoughts and can heal this broken planet. That is the power of prayer. Together we can neutralize the growing shadows around us. One point of light can illuminate vast pockets of darkness.”
“Join together, send forth your love and hope to the world, and in doing so, we can rise up,” an evangelist called to his congregation.
The Internet was like a vein of power and defiance. It offered the isolated and afraid an outlet and a community. Knowledge was shared, and the conspiracy theorists gained influence, identifying Zahn as a corrupt megalomaniac and naming his conspirators and cronies.
People dared to hope. They couldn’t have known how much it helped, how their optimism and hopefulness cut ribbons through the inky darkness.
It had been six weeks since the destruction of Australia, and the vaccinations had been extensive. Zahn and Elijah remained in Egypt near the Great Pyramid, observing the chaos that had enveloped the world and constantly fueling it.
“Will we get vaccinated?” Elijah asked.
“There’s no need. There is no vaccine. It’s a placebo. If the virus is uncontained we’re all dead,” Zahn replied.
“What? I don’t understand. Why bother with it all? You’ve spent so much money!”
“The vaccine has fueled people’s fear and divided them. If they had been given an absolute death sentence, people would have found camaraderie. When there is no hope there is peace and resignation. We gave them something to cling to and the uncertainty of what may come. In doing so, we have caused absolute chaos. We have torn apart families, communities, and countries and filled them all with fear and doubt.”
“And they call you the savior,” Elijah added shrewdly.
The Emissaries remained securely detained within the solid walls of the bunker.
Populations in the sacred sites of the world swelled as people left their homes and jobs on pilgrimages. Rome, Mecca, and Jerusalem had all become dangerously unstable. Yet people continued to gather in prayer. There was a movement of humans throughout the globe as they joined, hopeful and determined. Families were torn apart as travelers began to make their way to Mount Sinai, Giza, Chichen Itza, Stonehenge, Delos, Croagh Patrick, Emei Shan, Song Shan, Tikal, Borobudur, the Temple Mount, Teotihuacan, Angkor, and on and on. In America they congregated on the mountains, in the forests, in deserts, in the cornfields, near streams, or anywhere spirit was felt. The energy of the Earth—what Plato had referred to as anima mundi—vibrated, and the collective consciousness heard and responded.
Zahn regarded the pilgrims with disdain. If he had his way, they would suffer extended torment beyond the brief agony that Nobu would have brought them. Grey Elder’s thoughts were interrupted.
“Where is Theron now?” Elijah asked. It had been weeks since he had mentioned his mother at all. In the presence of Grey Elder, and with his constant urgings, Helghul’s memory had grown clearer by the day.
Zahn had shared most of his plans with the boy, though he had saved the finale for himself. “They remain in South America, neutralized,” he said.
“Unharmed?” Elijah asked.
“Is it possible you still care for Theron above others, even when she has consistently chosen Marcus over you?” Grey Elder goaded.
“She has been both a thorn and an aid to me. I have used her like a useful tool.”
“It would be better not to think of her at all. Think of Marcus instead. Think of Quinn once again supplanting you as the love of her life, and let that anger stir and fortify you. He is her soulmate, the masculine to her feminine. You are the yin to his yang. It is as it should be.”
“And you. What am I to you? I have done nothing since you brought me here except eat like a dog at your table. What purpose does it serve to have me listening to your sermons day and night if you do not let me do anything?”
“It will soon be clear. I do not take you for granted. You are a powerful ally, and when the time is right, it is you who will stand on the slab and pronounce our victory,” Zahn promised, app
ealing to the boy’s ego.
Elijah was placated … for now. He longed to join the noise and bedlam of the Egyptian streets. He wished to be amid the chaos and feel the hot wind of the garbage fires on his face. He craved excitement and was tired of living in his memories. Helghul was anxious to realize his purpose and role in this lifetime.
“Tomorrow we will reclaim your treasure,” Grey Elder said cryptically.
“Treasure?”
“We will retrieve the Emerald Tablet,” the mentor replied.
“How? It is lost to me. I have sought it in many lifetimes since last I laid it in hiding, but others have moved it.”
“It was I who last found it. All is as it should be.”
“You know where it is?” Elijah asked eagerly.
“Tomorrow,” Grey Elder replied, and he left the room for the night.
Elijah was alone and, as he thought about the Emerald Tablet, he once again become engrossed in the film strip of his past lives.
CHAPTER 42
THE RETURN OF THE EMERALD TABLET
Zahn’s plane touched down in Alexandria one hour before sunset. Elijah was thrilled to return to the city that he had built and that had been named for him so many centuries before. Helghul felt the power of his life as Alexander the Great surging through him. He filled with recollections, though the city little resembled the perfect specimen he had once designed.
“The site of the old library? Is that where you’ve hidden it?” Elijah guessed.
Zahn smiled mysteriously but chose not to answer. The men were dressed in the robes of the local lower class in an attempt to avoid attention. They did not want to stand out. Zahn easily managed the black sports bag he had been toting since their flight as they hailed a public taxi to the harbor. The sky was fading into evening when they found the fishing boat that had been tied to the pier, waiting for them. It was nothing special, a filthy little skiff. As Zahn dismissed the driver, Elijah was concerned.
“Why this one? It looks like it’s about to sink,” Elijah said, scanning the docks, his nose wrinkled, disgusted by the sour smell. He saw no less than ten better-looking options in the immediate vicinity.
“We want to blend in,” Grey Elder responded, dropping his baggage aboard.
The boat was adequate for their needs, and Grey Elder untied and cast off. Elijah steadied himself on a bare wooden seat, avoiding a dive tank and a tangle of smelly, worn nets at his feet. He prepared for a long, bumpy ride. He was startled when the choppy engine cut after only a few minutes, still well within the harbor.
“I don’t understand? It’s here?” Elijah said incredulously, as Zahn dropped the anchor. He knew that in his life as Alexander, where they floated now had not even been covered by the sea.
Zahn removed his robe and shoes and revealed a thin wetsuit underneath. He pulled a mask, flippers, mouthpiece, and headlamp from his bag.
“Why here, with so many people around?” Elijah asked, as Zahn quickly attached his mouthpiece to the regulator and adjusted the tank at Elijah’s feet.
“It’s murky and there’s a strong current. Directly below us is the original lighthouse of Alexandria. It’s well hidden, but if anyone were to get close to the Emerald Tablet the water’s natural phosphorescence would mask the glow. Here,” he said, handing the boy a nine-millimeter handgun. “It’s loaded. If anyone comes near, shoot. No hesitation, no questions. Dead.”
“Dead,” Helghul repeated, turning the heavy pistol over in his hands.
Zahn dropped backwards into the cloudy water, and his light disappeared below the chop. Elijah had plenty of time for contemplation. Five minutes passed, ten, fifteen—the sun set, red and orange fire on the horizon, and darkness descended. Elijah began to panic, relying on his Helghul-brain to remain calm. Boaters passed closely by, too self-absorbed and rushed to bother with the straggling skiff. Helghul cradled the gun in his lap.
If Zahn drowned he didn’t know what he would do, where he would go, or how. He was on his own in a foreign city, and though he was Helghul on the inside, he was a skinny, penniless American boy on the outside. At least I have a gun, he thought. Then he began to wonder if he could find Theron. Could he trust her now? Could she be manipulated to help him rise to power once again?
After twenty minutes the boy wondered if the harsh current had taken Grey Elder. He searched for bubbles on the dark surface but saw none. Elijah’s alarm had peaked just as he noticed a green glow rising from deep below. He helped Zahn with the load on his shoulder.
On first contact, the charge of the stone surged through him with a million vibrations. The Emerald Tablet was wide and flat with smooth, polished edges and raised, bas-relief lettering on one side. It weighed about twenty-two pounds and glowed a brilliant luminescent green. Elijah’s heart was thumping, and he felt the energy emanating from the atlantium crystal. It had been so long, but the magic of the object had not waned. Helghul saw himself in Atitala, then as Katari, Genghis, Alexander, and so many other brick-and-mortar lives.
Elijah rested the edge of the tablet on the hull to manage the weight, tipping the boat slightly. The boy held on to it tightly, feeling his bones vibrating against his skin. Once the tablet was safely on board, Zahn passed up his dive tank and climbed out of the water. He placed the precious tablet in a thin, solid gold box that had been hidden in his bag.
Ninety minutes later, Zahn reclined comfortably with Elijah on his jet, heading back to Giza, enjoying snacks and sodas. The gold box was on the floor at their feet. Even though it was concealed in the sports bag, the tablet electrified the air around them.
“What now?” Elijah asked, when the flight attendant had been sent away.
“Soon we will use the Emerald Tablet to ensure the extension of the Dark Age.”
“Use it? How?”
“The pyramids serve many purposes. They are much more than just symbols. Remember how they glowed in Atitala? They read and transmitted energy. At the end of the last Golden Age, the Emerald Tablet was removed from its place in the Grand Pyramid of Atitala. The tablet reads the collective consciousness of the world and magnifies it.
“The Great Pyramid of Giza is a resonator. When the tablet is placed in the Great Pyramid, consciousness will be converted into energy. The despair and panic that we have so carefully orchestrated will be amplified and sent into the Universe. We will stop the ascension to a higher Age and strengthen this time of the Great Darkness. The pyramid was not meant to be restarted until the dawn of the Golden Age. But we have memory. We took the potion. We have the knowledge to make it happen now and to amplify the Darkness instead of the Light,” Grey Elder explained.
“What about the Emissaries?” Elijah asked.
Zahn searched the boy’s face watchfully. “Are you Helghul, asking about your enemies, or a boy, asking about his mommy?” Zahn sniped. He didn’t wait for an answer. He raised his cellphone and began making a call. Elijah had been dismissed.
For a moment Helghul’s thirst for power wavered. He felt a desire to see his mother and to protect her. He remembered a simple day in his life as Elijah, at her side, interviewing Crystal Children and being one of them, feeling love and connection. He thought of his hand safely in hers as they laughed at Nate singing from the vehicle’s driver seat … but that was before … before he knew what he really was. The innocent, childish part of him had been overcome, and the inky darkness that warped his soul flooded him once more and overwhelmed the child he might have been.
CHAPTER 43
THE EMISSARIES UNITE
“Sir, it’s the prisoners,” the guard said, in Spanish.
“What is it?” the stout man said. The creamy sauce from his dinner had gotten stuck in his moustache, and at any other time his cohort would have laughed.
“The prisoners haven’t been eating or drinking and …”
“A protest?”
“No sir, there’s more. We wouldn’t have noticed, but when Eduardo put his guitar down next to the fire … well … it kept pl
aying. The ground was vibrating so much that the strings … sang,” he said, searching for words.
Full from his meal, the stocky boss heaved himself out of his comfortable chair. “I didn’t feel anything. It’s not vibrating now,” the captain reassured. He was not the superstitious type. Ghost stories would not get the best of him.
“But it is. Listen,” the nervous guard said, and sure enough the twang of the open notes could be heard. The guitar lay on the ground, abandoned, and five armed killers stood staring fearfully from a distance.
“Maybe a small avalanche? Prepare to go below!” the leader ordered.
It had been Zahn’s directive that none of the captives be harmed unless it was absolutely necessary. The prisoners had been no threat, no problem, and the guards had paid little attention to them.
They hadn’t counted on what they would see when they entered the bunker.
Seven hours earlier, Eden, Quinn, Nate, and six of the other Emissaries had slipped the bonds of their captives unnoticed. The runaways had no idea that as they contended with their own troubles beyond the bunker, the guards were raiding the prison they had left behind.
As promised, Nate had somehow found the location of the gateway. He had been certain he was standing at the place where it once had been, though the ground and walls on the southern corner of the holding area had shown no sign of ingress. The foundation was solid. There was no hollow reverberation, no loose stone, no hint of a possible exit.
One of the Crystal Children, a four-year-old girl with blonde curls and a yellow T-shirt, had moved toward the confounded threesome and begun singing. It was then that their eyes had perceived a slight change in the wall.
The child hadn’t learned the strange hum, she had simply known it. In her crib as a baby it had first come to her, and year by year it came more clearly.
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