Descendant

by Jeffrey A. Levin

  Why are we here? Answers—we need answers! Why? Because deep under the sands of Egypt, we’ll find what we need. What do we need? A way to fight back.

  Let’s talk more about these guys—the Amuns. One attribute that the Amuns share with the Illuminati is the symbol of the ever-watching eye. Yet the colors are different, for the eye is now depicted as red and black, symbolizing the devil. The other exception is that the eye is no longer the eye of the falcon. Now it is the orb of the Apis bull, which is symbolic of the thirtieth dynasty of Egypt. The Apis was considered to be the most sacred animal of all in ancient Egypt. This evil sect has performed chilling crimes and horrific exorcisms, all in an attempt to revive the god Amun, whom they believe is the Messiah for the new world.

  Were Proto, Maya, and I crazy enough to venture into a Thebes bar directly over the headquarters of the Amuns? What do you think? Three Americans walking into the land of mummies is like your father prancing into an ancient Stones concert. Honestly, you haven’t lived, or died, if you haven’t frequented this mummified dive.

  “Michael, exactly how dangerous are the Amuns?” Proto asks.

  I pull up the collar of my khaki shirt, feeling like a paranoid schizophrenic inside a house of distorted mirrors. The mummies’ expressions can be compared to those of French legionnaires lost in a desert. They look tired, crabby, and thirsty enough to empty the Nile River. Dangerous? The Amuns live underground; they pray to a dead blue pharaoh and then fall prostrate to the ground, honoring an Apis bull. What the hell do you think? I muse.

  “Anyone want a drink?” I say, hoping to quash my own spine-chilling anxiety. Maya forces a laugh, yet it seems to be a nervous “I’m going to pee in my pants” kind of tension. “Isn’t it creepy enough around here, Michael?”

  I clear my throat. The soundtrack of a death drum band by the name of Goetic Demon plays frenetically. Do you call this atmosphere? I call it a spooky throwback goth nightmare. Have you ever frequented a restaurant where mummies adorn the walls? Mummies is such a place. The faces of these dudes and their elongated heads would creep the hell out of a huge tarantula—no kidding.

  Maya takes a deep breath. “Can’t a girl have a cup of coffee without encountering otherworldly eerie dead people staring at her?”

  Proto and I nod in compliance.

  An enticing, Egyptian waitress wearing a sheath dress and a silky chartreuse cape adorned with exotic beaded jewelry strolls over to our table. She gives the appearance of a cross between Mata Hari and Heba Selim, who was a famous spy in Paris during the Third World War. She carefully places menus on our table. Her narrow, chiseled face is impassive and stoic. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was carefully studying our every move.

  “Nice girl,” Proto utters as we watch her slowly saunter away.

  “Interesting,” I say. “There’s something called a priest sandwich on the menu. Supposedly, if you order it, you’ll be able to fend off the evil and powerful eye of Horus.”

  Proto stares at the red-and-black eye, framed ostentatiously, hanging formidably on the far wall. Two gigantic oddly shaped candles are casting eerie shadows, flashing on and off like supernatural self-centered fireflies.

  “Strange,” Maya utters. “Did you know that the eye of Horus represents the eye that Horus lost in a battle with Set thousands of years ago?”

  “What’s strange, Michael, is that the god Amon is known for being a secret deity,” Proto says, swirling her coffee with a tiny spoon. “I don’t think that the Amuns would approve much of either Horus or Set.”

  “What are you saying?” I ask, genuinely intrigued by her observation.

  “I’m saying that the new black eye is a symbol for rebellion. And the Amuns are not a group to be trifled with. Capiche?” Proto smiles luridly.

  “Why?”

  Proto stirs her drink with her spoon. “Because this place is bugged, and if you look right now—which I don’t advise—you’ll see that the eyeball above the mummy Thutmose is staring at you.”

  I clear my throat, observing the enigmatic waitress return to our table. “How can I help you?” she says, her eyes dancing like inquisitive raconteurs.

  I stare at Proto. I write down, “Play along; it could be our lives.”

  “What’s good?” I say, placing my menu back down on the table.

  “Our biggest seller is the stork and pigeon sandwich called the Akhenaton. It’s outstanding—very flavorful. We serve it alongside the pharaoh’s severed elongated head.”

  Maya winces. A small smile curls up like a dimple from the side of our waitress’s face, giving her the appearance of a leering snake. “You are kidding,” Proto finally interjects, hoping to get into the act. “I’ll have a Cleopatra with a little Mark Anthony on the side!” she jokes.

  “Most people ask for him on top.” The waitress’s face breaks into an expansive smile; she seems to be enjoying our little show. “So, are you here to study dark Egyptian magic?” she asks cunningly.

  “Why?” I say. “Are you an expert?”

  The waitress controls her lively face, looking at us impassively once again. “I know a few things about the pharaoh’s curse.” I glance over at Maya and Proto. “There are many secrets lying in the tunnels and vaults under the city,” she utters cryptically. “Thebes is a city of secrets, and you’re sitting right on top of one. Drinks?” She tilts her head like Cleopatra with a name tag. “My name is Amenankhnas,” she says cagily. “You can call me Amie.” She stares at me bashfully. “How can I help you?”

  “I’ll have a King Tut!” I say.

  “Ladies?”

  Proto squints at the menu. “I’ll take an Ahtotep I and a jigger of salt!” Maya quips. “Hold the Thutmose!”

  “You say that we’re sitting right on top of a secret?” I inquire, trying to remain poker-faced. After all, we’ve come to Thebes to discover secrets.”

  Proto whispers, “That infrared eyeball hasn’t stopped looking at you Michael. someone likes you.” She smiles like a thief.

  Amie nods. “You do know that there are catacombs under most of this city, sprawling out for over one hundred miles, don’t you?”

  “Really?” Maya says. “I heard that was just a myth.”

  Another waiter plops our drinks on the table, staring at Amie skeptically.

  “It’s no myth. There is a network of grottos, tunnels, and old quarries all over the city. At one point, there were also skulls, elongated heads, and cryptic bones lying like injured soldiers throughout the tunnels under Thebes.”

  “What’s the pharaoh’s curse?” I inquire curiously.

  “It’s a scourge preventing anyone from being too inquisitive,” Amie says. “You see, the secrets of the crypts are quite scary. You may regret coming to Thebes; after all, it’s become a very precarious place to visit. Where are you from?”

  “The American Isles,” Proto says. “We’re here to find out all of your secrets,” she says brazenly.

  Amie stares at Proto. “What kinds of secrets are you trying to find?” We all glare at Proto as if she’s nuts. “That’s all right, I admire your honesty,” Amie proclaims

  “It’s just that …”

  “What?” I say.

  “It’s just that the Amuns don’t like strangers,” Amie replies. “Many of them have joined the crypts of the dead cult. Please don’t go down there! Trust me; Thebes is not a city to trifle with; I know.

  “We didn’t come here to find out secrets about the Amuns; we’re archeologists, just trying to discover answers about the city’s history,” Proto states impatiently.

  “Well then,” says our waitress, “you aren’t alone. The Amuns have been searching for decades to find what’s called Osiris’s Sword.”

  I glance at Maya, who is staring at Proto, who is staring at me.

  “How do you know?” I finally say.

  Amie
’s mouth quivers as if she has been hiding quite a secret. “Someone has to be brave enough to go down into the catacombs to serve the Amuns.”

  “I see, and that person is you?”

  She holds her index finger to her mouth. “Shh!”

  “And what is it that you’ve found out?” I inquire.

  A long, awkward silence ensues. Amie tilts her head, smiling once again, peering obliquely at the eye on the wall. We observe black flickering smoke seething from the candles, drifting like ghosts over the reticent eye.

  She holds the palm of her hand up, curving it artfully toward me.

  I clear my throat and reach into my pocket. “Will this help?” I say, relieving myself of my newly acquired Egyptian currency.

  She smiles. “You’ll need to find the lost city of Abydos. It’s been lost for centuries, lying somewhere underneath the unfathomable, enigmatic sand. Many secrets will be revealed there; just remember that the Egyptian word for sword is ‘Khopesh’!” Amie stashes the money inside of her pocket and then holds out her hand. “Good luck—you’re going to need it.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “Make sure you go at night, when the moon is bright. And be careful! You don’t want to draw attention to yourself. Occasionally the Amuns will come out at night; they may be watching. Ana faahim?”

  I nod. “Yes, I do understand. I smile into the camera and wave. “Ma is salama!”

  CHAPTER 57

  Cerberus’s Galaxy (NGC)

  April 26, 2401

  11:13 a.m.

  Victoria’s recovery was nothing less than miraculous; she now moves through hyperspace toward home, stopping in Vorashia long enough to see her hairdresser and then teleport twice to Cerberus’s galaxy, NGC 1512. It takes her a little bit longer than taking a train, a taxi, and a bus; but she’s here, and she looks good. Vock delivered, having saved her life.

  Victoria decides to wear her blue dress with her highest, sharpest stilettos. In honor of meeting her friend, Cerberus, and with Abraxas out of the picture, she’s on her way to immortality.

  Yet before she leaves, Victoria has to do one thing. She pulls out a picture of the man who abused her for so many years. She glares at his eyes, remembering his cruelness and his fits of anger. Eschew will never abuse me again! She vows to herself.

  “Now I’m ready!” she whispers to the mirror.

  Cerberus is not exactly a looker, but she doesn’t want to give him too bad of a rap. Her pet name for him is C. C., for she always heard that the ugliest bird on anyone’s planet was the California condor. “C.C.,” Victoria exclaims out loud, “you’re no match for me!”

  Victoria meticulously places a necklace gently around her neck. It is handcrafted and gold toned, and it’s sassy and sexy—everything a girl would need to seduce a narcissistic man like Cerberus. Yet it is the diamonds that complete the deal, for these particular diamonds are special; they are vile black diamonds found only in rare caves on the planet Vorashia. They are called Vorashia diamonds. The stones are black with magical siren-like powers, for whenever one touches them, a red diamond shows forth. This diamond is called the Devil’s Pyramid of Lust, and it is specially designed for her.

  She needs Cerberus, but that’s no problem. Victoria knows that she has a compelling need for the dark matter on his planet. With this energy, she could execute her plan of shooting light beams around Earth until the blue planet is completely surrounded in particles that will bind, forming a huge invisible fence, the same way you might keep a dog in your yard, or a bird in its cage.

  “That’s where Cerberus belongs! In a cage… dead!” Victoria laughs heartily. It’s genius. Then I can do whatever I want with those pesky Earthlings. However, it is her original plan that she likes the best—placing magnetic, hypnotic, remote-controlled, chips in all human heads, keying them to her own commands. Victoria has already commissioned the most intelligent hybrid robotoids in the world to make this happen. She solicited writers, technicians, gamesters, and voila—instant virtual reality show!

  I am smart enough to become God, aren’t I? If there were a real God, he would be envious of me… Queen Victoria! But would the queen have a king? Victoria couldn’t help but chortle.

  She thinks about men—all men—and then she drives her fist into her smooth silvery mirror, cracking its transparent face into a thousand tiny fragments. She reaches down, picking up a large shard. That’s all she needs to cut Cerberus’s throat!

  Oh, where is Biddle Gnat? I gave him tickets to get on my teleport machine. Victoria snickers, “Beam me up Biddle!”

  Even if he died in a tele-accident, she could replace him in a second.

  Cerberus’s house is more like an airy, pneumatic atrium in the midst of a forest. Birds fly everywhere in his glassed-in area called his Cerberatorium. Cerberus walks down from his golden perch atop his lofty aeronautical home.

  “And they think I’m ostentatious!” Victoria muses.

  God, what is he wearing? He looks like a cross between Michael Jackson and Liberace, she thinks, making some ancient American Isles references—a little hobby she picked up from her nemesis, Michael Eisenstein. Good thing she is up on her twentieth and twenty-first century Earthling lingo. But she likes her men weak, feeble, and, most of all, yearning to please her. Victoria forces herself to embrace the man-bird.

  My God, where did he get those purple shoes?

  “Welcome to planet Hevyo!” Cerberus Asmodeus exclaims, flapping his feathers like a big chicken. Cerberus peers around his abode, sticking out his chest like a male flying fowl. After all, he was a colonel in the military. He has the hardware to prove it. But over the years, he had begun to lose some of the hair atop his small-crowned head, and he has grown self-conscious.

  “You look so nice, Cerberus! You must be working out!” Dear God! I’ve reached a new low! Victoria muses.

  Cerberus laughs heartily; then he smiles craftily.

  Little does Victoria know that he has the ability to read minds. She glances up at the skylight, viewing the reddish-silver sky. Yes, dark matter could do lots of things alien to people on other planets. I need this hybrid bird. I’ll tell him anything he wants to hear!

  Cerberus glares at her cunningly, wondering if Victoria knows that “rapere” was derived from the words “capture” and “seize.” After all, he wasn’t a stupid bird; he was a raptor! Does this naive, arrogant little girl not know the capabilities of a raptor?

  Cerberus forces a smile at his delectable new prey. My hooked beaks with acute, razor-sharp edges are beautiful, aren’t they? After all, my mother named me Cerberus Thoth Asmodeus, after the god Thoth—the architect of the universe. Perhaps my sweet little friend should have done her homework! I’ll play her for a little bit longer, Cerberus muses.

  Cerberus’s thoughts move to his many conquests in the world war against the condors. The Andean condors were the universe’s largest fowls, with wingspans of over twelve feet. Their talons could mark one for life. Their speed was the fastest of any being across the galaxy. Yet he and his fellow raptors were victorious in the Aerial Hevyo Wars over twenty years ago. Cerberus was the general in that campaign. He earned his stripes over and over again.

  Remember: a raptor is in the same family as hawks, vultures, and large owls. Little did Victoria know that he was not only lethal but also remarkably cunning, smart, and profoundly athletic.

  Does Victoria really think that she is even in the category with my majestic self? He thinks.

  “Goodness, Cerberus, what are those things hanging in the sky?”

  Cerberus spares her from his laughter this time. “You see, my darling, gravity is not a strong force here. Gravity is just a reaction to weaker matter. On our planet, we have dark matter and dark energy, which allow physical items, such as our glass pyramids, to float in the sky.”

  “How interesting,” Victoria utters.

>   “You see, my pretty friend; there are birds of every species that have their own homes. They can take their perches up to the sky and spread their wings against the clouds.”

  “But they’re just birds,” Victoria says caustically, not realizing at first how insulting her comment could be.

  “Just birds?” Cerberus Thoth Asmodeus repeats. “The birds on the planet Hevyo are magnificent, Victoria! We are blessed with the most beautiful gulls and storks. Look over there to the East; you can see magnificent condors and glorious vultures. Look at their sharp, carefully curved talons! Take a peek at their magnificent wingspans! These are the most illustrious and celebrated creatures in the universe! And eyesight—every one of these magnificent creatures can see you for miles! They can smell you for miles! They can envision what you taste like for a thousand miles! Thoth is not happy with you, Ms. Vorashian!”

  “I’m sorry!” Victoria pleads. Her eyes peer up at the sky, witnessing a multitude of winged predators moving closer toward her—even the ones that have been perched inside those ridiculous-looking glass pyramid aviaries in the sky.

  Victoria glares up at the sky. First come the condors, followed by the griffin vultures, and then those fat, creepy-looking owls. Victoria’s face transforms to one of fear. Her eyes are like huge, demonic orbs as she cringes at waves of birds flying toward her. First they circle her; then they scratch their beaks against her skin, nestling in her hair. Her skin begins to crawl as she watches them hover above her, waiting for Cerberus to give them the signal. Soon they part just a little, leaving just enough space for a majestic, resplendent crowned eagle. These powerfully viscous birds live in tall woodland forests and the sublime rain forests on Hevyo. They have long brown heads with adorned crests of feathers. These beautiful creatures possess white tips along with radiant red and black feathers. Their major fetish is not only killing humans but also raping them in the process.