“Were you looking for me?”
Chris spun on his heels, surprised.
“There you are.”
John chuckled, obviously having heard Chris’s previous statement.
“We found him,” Chris said.
“Found who?”
“Do you remember that unauthorized transmission that we detected from the base three weeks ago? That was about the same time Captain Thuesen was murdered.”
John nodded without a response.
“Well, sir. We have him. His name is Henry Eichman, one of our mechanics.”
John grew serious, giving Chris an uneasy feeling that something was amiss.
“What can you tell me about him?” John asked.
“His background check revealed that he was serving a lifetime prison sentence for raping and murdering multiple women. After the Gnols attacked, he must have escaped and found his way here. In all the chaos, we didn’t perform any background checks because we needed every able-bodied man possible.”
“A serial killer?” John questioned.
“Y-yes, but why would that matter now?”
John’s entire essence became even more serious. “It matters more than you know, General,” he uttered as he turned around and began to rush out of the room.
Chris held his hand up just as John reached the exit. “Wait! You didn’t ask where he is . . . being detained,” he said just as the doors closed.
*****
Isla Zapatera on Lake Nicaragua, Central America . . .
“Tell me again why we had to come down here, Professor. It stinks and it’s hotter than hell,” the young sergeant said as he slapped at another mosquito on his bare arm.
Eli Jacobson, sitting at his desk in his tent, looked up from cleaning a fist-sized stone covered with ancient Olmec engravings. The sergeant, standing above him, looked at him incredulously. Eli sighed and waited a few minutes before responding to the annoying sergeant. Sergeant Samuel Scoefield, second in command of the security detail that had been assigned to the professor and his archaeological team, was beginning to wear thin on his nerves.
The muscular redhead with a butch haircut continued to glower at him with his dull green eyes. He slapped at another mosquito that landed on his muscular, freckled arm.
“You know, Sergeant. Those mosquitoes wouldn’t bother you so much if you’d cover up with long sleeves. That sweat-stained wife-beater tank top of yours won’t cut it around here. You’d also be smart to put on some repellent.”
Samuel scowled at the doctor again. “It’s too dang hot here to wear long sleeves. And that super bug repellent makes me break out in hives. I’d rather get malaria than suffer from the itching that stuff causes.”
“One can only hope,” Eli muttered under his breath as he turned his attention back to the stone.
“What was that, sir?”
“Oh, nothing,” Eli responded as he stood up to retrieve his water bottle from the chest on the other side of his cot. He ran his hand through his sweat-drenched black and gray hair as he chugged down the water.
“No, but seriously, Professor. We’ve been on this wild goose chase for six months and have only found one clue that what you are looking for just might be here on this island. Searching for ancient . . . What do you call ‘em? . . . Olmac crap? This isn’t my cup of tea. I’d rather be out shootin’ me some Chinese, Iranians, Russians, or even those Gnols, if they come back. Instead, I was assigned here on this security detail while the rest of the world goes to hell in a hand basket.”
Eli smirked at Samuel’s ignorance as he removed his glasses and rubbed his brown eyes. He definitely missed his contact lenses. His glasses gave him headaches.
“It’s Olmec. Not Olmac.”
“Whatever they’re called. It’s borin’.”
Even though Sergeant Scoefield was a constant irritation, Eli took pleasure in mocking the young man’s ignorance about history. “You’re obviously not the book type. Are you, Sergeant?”
“No, sir. I barely graduated high school. The only reason I did graduate was ‘cause the army won’t let ya enlist unless you have a diploma. A GED just don’t cut it no more.”
Eli sighed and rolled his eyes. “No, it doesn’t, Sergeant. No, it does not.” He then returned to his desk and began cleaning the stone again.
Samuel inched closer to him, obviously curious about the ancient relic. Eli glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “You know, Sergeant, you and Captain Smith, Private Hannon, and Private Howell have been with me and my team for over six months.”
Samuel nodded in agreement.
“And in those six months, you still have not realized how important this mission is?”
Samuel grunted his displeasure. “I know how important it is, but I just don’t see the point of searchin’ for somethin’ that probably don’t even exist. I feel I’m better in battle, that’s all.”
“I understand that, Sam. But don’t you remember who gave this order for us to search for this supposed ancient relic? After the president asked for military volunteers, it was Captain Smith who volunteered for this mission and you gladly obliged, being his second in command, if I remember right.”
“You’re right. But I thought we’d at least be seein’ some action. The only fightin’ we’ve even been close to was that band of thieves that tried to rob us. I didn’t even get to draw my weapon. The moment they saw we was American soldiers, they high-tailed it and ran.”
Eli chuckled as he reflected on the incident. There were only three men that tried to rob them. No, not men; more like old, decrepit farmers, most likely in their mid-sixties. They tried to hold Eli and his assistants up with homemade spears. Captain Smith and his men had been following and the moment they came up behind them, the old men screamed like little children and ran, shouting Gnols all the way down the mountainside. “You remember that story differently than I do, Sergeant. If I recall, they weren’t scared of your weapons or the fact that you were even American soldiers. They thought you were Gnols and that you had come back to enslave them.”
This time, Samuel chuckled. “You’re right. It was pretty funny. They probably would have peed their pants if we pulled our weapons on them.”
“All they wanted was food, Sergeant. That’s all. And if I wouldn’t have gone to their village later with some food, they wouldn’t have given this clue to us, as appreciation for feeding them,” Eli responded, holding up the nearly perfect round stone.
Samuel stepped forward, holding out his hand. “May I see it, Professor?”
Eli dropped the stone into the sergeant’s hand. Samuel examined it for a few seconds, tracing his fingers along the Olmec writings. “So, this is what President Thompson ordered us to find?”
“No, Sergeant, that is only a clue,” Eli replied, his tone growing more solemn. “What the president ordered us to find was any evidence of another Gnol attack besides the first one. He has inside information that what we are looking for is right here in Nicaragua. The Gnols were searching for something. They didn’t just come here to enslave humans, and he believes they are coming back.”
“Wow, I can’t believe you can actually read this stuff.”
“I’ve studied it for years. I almost read it better than I do English.”
“Hmm,” Samuel responded as he held the stone up to his eyes and examined it further. “So what does it say?”
Eli stood and pointed to the engravings directly in front of Samuel’s eyes. “It says ‘under the head rests the relic buried deep upon the isle forever lost to man.’”
“I don’t get it. What does the head mean? We’ve been diggin’ on this island for three weeks now, and we ain’t found no head.”
“No, we haven’t. At least not yet. Archeologists have discovered large heads on this island that the Olmecs carved out of stone. We call them the Olmec Colossal heads. Some speculate that the heads are a representation of the Olmec people. Others believe that the heads represent gods whom the Olmec worshipp
ed.”
Samuel placed the stone back down on the professor’s desk and picked up a photograph of one of the heads. He looked at it carefully. “Gods, huh? They almost look like those Gnol aliens that attacked us.”
“Yeah, to some extent. Who knows? Maybe the Olmecs had contact with the Gnols thousands of years ago. And with the Gnols’ telepathic and telekinetic abilities, it would be easy for any ancient native civilization to worship them as gods.”
“So why here?”
The professor picked up the stone again and turned it around, pointing to a small map carved into its surface. He then picked up a map of present-day Nicaragua, holding it next to the stone. “Anything look familiar, Sergeant?”
Samuel leaned in to get a better look at the stone and the map. His eyes widened with surprise once the realization of what he was examining hit him. “It’s a map of Nicaragua.”
“Yes, it is. Look at the detail of the map on the stone compared to the this modern-day map.”
Samuel’s eyes darted back and forth between the paper map and the stone. “The map on the stone is a perfect copy of the paper map.”
Eli’s face lit up with excitement. This was the one thing he loved most about being an archeologist; the connection between the present and the past. “Expert map makers from the fourteenth through the seventeenth centuries couldn’t even produce a map with such minute details. Also, carving such a perfect map into stone with crude tools isn’t possible.” Eli then traced his fingers along the carving of the map, as well as the engravings. “The carvings on this stone, which dates back to eleven hundred BC, were cut with a laser.”
Samuel’s jaw dropped, and he shook his head. “That’s not possible. No civilization back then had lasers.”
Eli smiled and got that look in his eye that he always got when he knew he was smarter than the guy next to him. “Then, tell me, Sergeant, how could a pre-Columbian civilization, with no knowledge of the outside world, create a map with such detail that the only way we could create this kind of map with perfect detail today is with satellite images?”
Samuel snickered. “Are you tellin’ me the Olmecs had satellites?”
“No, I’m not saying that at all. But they may have had contact with an advanced alien species. Who may have very well been the Gnols.”
“No w—”
Samuel was quickly interrupted by a young, attractive brunette who burst through tent’s opening. It was Jennifer Green, a former grad student of Eli’s at Brigham Young University before the Gnol attack. During the Gnol invasion, her entire family was killed. As a result, Eli and his wife took her in. She now served as his assistant and was the only family he had left after his wife had died of cancer. Eli still did not know if his three grown children and their families had survived the invasion.
Jennifer’s hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. Her plaid shirt and khaki shorts were covered in dirt. Her green eyes sparkled with wonder. “Professor!” she said with excitement. “We found something!”
*****
John stared into Henry Eichman’s eyes, intently searching for any semblance of good within the man as he sat across from him at the small table within the holding cell. Yes, he could read the killer’s mind. But something was amiss. Information that he searched for was somehow blocked, almost as if it had been blackened by the man’s sins.
“Tell me why you sent that unauthorized transmission to Terrest, Henry?” John questioned, his eyes narrowing.
Henry stared back at John insolently. He seemed to relish and take joy in being interrogated. After all, it was the only joy he could feel. The rest of his soul had been darkened from years of serving the wrong master. That service, whether he was aware of it or not, had made him vulnerable, susceptible to his body allowing the prince of darkness to possess his wretched soul.
“Tell me, Henry.”
“Go to hell!” Henry spat with a venomous tone.
John, never quick to anger, jumped to his feet, knocking the wooden chair he sat on to the floor. Henry lurched back in surprise. John pounded his fists upon the table and leaned to within an inch of the man’s face. “You will tell me now!” he shouted with a thunderous voice.
Henry’s arrogance was quickly erased, replaced with fear. “I-I can’t,” he stammered. “I can remember every detail, but for some reason, I have an overwhelming feeling that I will die if I tell. . . Not by you, but by something awful . . . I-I can’t explain it. By some man I can’t see.”
“You need to tell me,” John replied, but this time, with a calmer tone. “The fate of the human race may very well depend on it.”
“I can’t.”
John shook his head and looked down at the table in frustration. It was obvious that Lucifer was able to gain more power over those that served him, thus blocking John’s telepathy. No, Henry had to reveal that information on his own.
John looked back into Henry’s black eyes. “You need to tell me, Henry.”
Henry shook his head. Consequently, John decided to try a different approach. “How many women have you killed?”
Henry looked up in astonishment. “H-how did—”
“Just answer the question.”
Henry lowered his head. It was no secret who he was talking to. Everyone that lived on the base and a few outsiders knew that John was the same John who served as one of Jesus Christ’s disciples. The same John who had been promised never to taste of death until the return of his beloved Savior. “Seven,” Henry answered in a whisper.
“What? I didn’t quite catch that.”
“Seven,” Henry replied a little louder.
“You have taken the lives of seven innocent women.”
Henry nodded, again lowering his head in shame.
“Henry, you do realize that the blood of those women cries for vengeance against you? They demand justice. And who is it that will give them that justice, Henry?”
Henry’s eyes widened. John knew that the wicked man before him had never believed in God, at least not until recent events.
Henry opened his mouth and said, “G-God.” Just as the words rolled off of his lips, Henry’s eyes spilled over into tears. The man’s sinful and lustful behavior was beginning to catch up to him.
“That’s right, Henry. Now who do you fear more, God or Satan?”
“G-God.”
“Then know this, Henry. By confessing what you know to me today, you may be able to salvage whatever relationship you have left with God.”
A sliver of hope seemed to glisten in Henry’s eyes. But John understood all too well Henry’s reconciliation with God wouldn’t be that easy.
“Tell me what you know,” John demanded.
Henry took a deep breath. “I could see and hear everything, b-but I didn’t have control of my body. It was almost as if someone else was controlling me.”
John nodded.
“I-I spoke with a Gnol. I think his name was Dor . . . Dorange Gar. Yeah, that’s it.”
The mention of Dorange Gar piqued John’s attention. “What else?”
“I remember saying something about a gold plate. Yeah, I think that’s what it was. Something about it being here on Earth . . . somewhere in Central America.”
Without a word, John spun around. “Unlock the door!” he ordered as he walked toward the exit.
The guard on the other side of the door unlocked and opened the door. John flew past him and began sprinting toward the control room. He needed to contact Dr. Jacobson immediately, as well as Adrian on Terrest.
*****
Isla Zapatera on Lake Nicaragua, Central America . . .
Eli stood in wonderment behind the bottom of the colossal head. The firelight behind him flickered but provided just enough light so he could make out the writings before him. The head had been dug up from thirty feet of earth by a crane and tipped face down to reveal the mysterious engravings.
Water splattered over him as Tim Knight, another member of his archeological team, power-washed the mil
lennia-old thick dirt from the stony surface. As he did so, more writings were revealed.
“What’s it say, Professor?” Captain Karl Smith asked.
Eli didn’t respond. He continued to stare in awe until Tim finished cleaning all of the dirt from the bottom of the head. He took a few steps toward the massive head and began to trace his fingers through the perfectly cut engravings. “These are laser-cut, just like the stone.”
“Laser-cut?” Captain Smith questioned.
“Yeah,” Sergeant Scoefield interjected, “the professor believes that those Gnol aliens visited the Olmac people way back when.”
“It’s Olmec, Sergeant,” Eli responded with irritation.
“Whatever,” Sam replied.
Captain Smith moved his 195-pound frame next to Eli. The toned captain traced his fingers along the writings as well. He turned and looked at Eli with a sparkle in his brown eyes, indicating his insight into the ramifications of what they might have just discovered. “Can you read it, Eli?”
“Jennifer,” Eli said, waving for his young assistant to stand by his side.
After she arrived next to him, Eli asked, “Have you ever seen writings like this before?”
“No,” Jennifer replied as she traced her own finger along the perfectly cut stone.
“Oh great! Another wild goose chase.”
“That’s enough, Sergeant,” Captain Smith ordered. “What do you want to do, Eli?”
Eli shrugged his shoulders as the morning sun began to rise beyond the jungle mountains in the East. “I’m not sure, Karl. I’ve studied hundreds of ancient languages and am fluent in many of them, but these . . . these writings I have never seen before.”
“Wait,” Jennifer quickly interrupted.
Eli and Captain Smith turned and looked as the young assistant knelt down, scanning the bottom of the stone head.
“Look,” she said, pointing at small engravings near the bottom of the base. “These writings are Olmec.”
“What?” Eli questioned, kneeling beside her.
As he traced his fingers along the ancient writings, he read aloud. “To these people for whom this is written. Only they who have not tasted of death will be given power on high to translate these sacred writings. For it is wisdom in me that he shall proclaim unto the ends of the earth that the Chosen One shall unite two worlds and two peoples after the coming again of the Son of Man. Thus sayeth the Lord thy God.”
Worlds Without End: The Prophecy (Book 3) Page 9