Descendant

by Jeffrey A. Levin

  We can use such a man,” I say.

  Menes smiles craftily. “I will be happy to assist you in any way that I can. Actually, I think Nefertiti herself would be pleased if she were still alive today.”

  “Well, sir, join the team! You are certainly welcome to come along with us!”

  Menes bows his head “It will be a pleasure to serve you! Besides, someone needs to save you from your… how do you say it… attraction to our alluring waitresses.”

  “They’ve been most helpful on our trip,” I say. “So, Mr. Ramesses, you are the one who claims that Nefertiti’s room is buried under thirty tons of sand.”

  Menes reverentially nods. “Nefertiti was buried in my hometown. Well, at least, it used to be my hometown; now it’s just one big slip of sand formed by wind swishing dunes around like they were in a child’s sandbox.”

  “So you believe that there is also a source of energy buried in that same area?” I ask.

  “Yes, Mr. Eisenstein. But, it’s not Abydos that you’re looking for; it’s Amarna. I believe we can find what you are looking for in the Royal at Amarna, commonly called Akhenaton’s tomb; it’s the most royal and sacred sepulcher in the world.”

  I nod, interested.

  “Mr. Eisenstein!”

  “Yes.”

  “Just remember that the Egyptian desert is not a child’s sandbox; it’s a perilous ocean that has never truly been uncovered.”

  CHAPTER 59

  May 3, 2401

  1:16 a.m.

  The playing of the music ceases, and the caskets and drink flights are put to rest. We pile into Menes’s Jeep Wrangler Explorer. Supposedly this monster could move through swamps and rocky terrain, and forge up large hills; but most importantly, it could plunge its way through sand!

  Apparently there is no safe way to teleport, since we need a receiver. A truckload of sand isn’t going to do the trick!

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Menes projects, as he wipes the sweat off his forehead. “Isn’t there a better way to Amarna? The answer is no, Dr. Eisenstein. I’m sure you’re aware that the capitol city has been covered by sand for centuries now. My JTX Wrangler Explorer has a few nice features, however.”

  “Can I take a shower in it?” Proto quips.

  “Later,” Menes responds, smiling curiously.

  “This savage brute can burrow into the sand like a mouse on steroids. Trust me!” Menes flashes his famous Sharif smile again. “Have you ever heard of a kangaroo mouse called Microdipodops? My Jeep is modeled after that odd, multitalented wallaby. You see, a kangaroo mouse can burrow through sand, emerge on top of it, and jump like a grasshopper twenty feet into the air, hurdling a sand dune! Trust me; you’re safe with me.”

  “Exactly how much sand is out there?” I ask squeamishly.

  “Enough to bury us alive a few million times. Did you really think you were going to unearth all of that languid, shrouded sand by yourselves?”

  I stare blankly at Proto.

  She nods. “I think we’ve met the Egyptian 007.”

  A smirk covers Maya’s face as she climbs into the Explorer.

  “Some peculiar earthquakes hit this area over two hundred years ago, covering the town in tons of sand,” Menes utters. He places his fine Egyptian cigar into his mouth, puffing serpents of smoke into the air that look like ghostly eyes.

  “Do you have a name for this monster truck?” Maya inquires.

  Menes smiles. “Actually, it’s the hieroglyphic that appears like a backward L, an elliptical spaceship, a pelican-like bird, and a submerged boatlike submarine.”

  “Have you ever thought that all of this sand is some sort of ET cover-up?” Maya inquires, wedging herself into the back of the Explorer.

  “Yes, the markings are very odd,” Menes proclaims.

  “What the hell happened to Nefertiti?” I ask. “The legend is that she’s up there, somewhere, playing her music and dancing with the aliens. And what about Akhenaton? Does he know what happened to her?”

  Menes’s slow, lizard-like cigar smoke slowly disappears into the air.

  “So it was the gods who took control of Nefertiti?” I ask.

  Menes slowly inhales from his fine Egyptian Ligne-Claire cigar. He appears rather well satisfied. “All I know is that I would have given three Egyptian Corona cheroots and a lair of gorgeous Italian women if I could have slept with her for one night!” Menes cackles at his own joke.

  “So you think her powers were even greater than Akhenaton’s and they wanted her for themselves,” Maya suggests. “According to legend, she had a neck like a swan’s, and a virile bird god was the one who seduced her into the heavens. The goddess Nefertiti would probably fly on an asteroid and take a portal to the heavens if she knew she would meet her man. Mmm hmm.”

  Menes slows down, hoping the wind will settle, allowing the hurling sand to lie flat on the road. He can’t help but envisage the cryptic sand, for only he understands the magnificent mosaic of truth that lies sleeping under the mysterious layers of dormant sand—a secret, and a powerful one at that!

  Menes steers away from the winds of the menacing sandstorm. “I’m afraid that we’re going to have to descend into the inner sanctum of our sand treasure.” Menes quickly hands us sand helmets with oxygen masks. “A violent storm is coming; we need to take the Explorer subterranean!”

  “We’re getting sucked in!” Proto yells. “I can’t take this!” The foursome watches in horror as the Explorer plows deep beneath the sand. Menes’s face is stern and determined as he burrows the vehicle deeper underground. I hold Maya tightly. I feel her body sending shock waves of fear, shivering inside our vehicle as it bores like a groundhog into the depths of the Saharan sand.

  “Turn up your regulators on the sides of your masks!” Menes screams. “You’re going to need all the oxygen you can get!” I grab the nozzle, helping Maya suck air through the pipe. The sand surrounds us like an avalanche of snow shooting down Mount Everest.

  Maya shudders, holding me tightly. I can feel her body tremble in hopeless fright. We watch helplessly in horror as Menes’s truck burrows further under the menacing layers of sand. Deeper and still deeper we go through the vortex of swirling sand. We are willfully propelling ourselves to our graves.

  “We’re going to die with all of the grave robbers!” Menes says under his breath.

  We simply watch in terror as Menes skillfully steers his monster Jeep Explorer under the sand. “My God!” Menes screams. He stares at his ground-penetrating radar system. “Listen! We’re entering a huge air pocket. Something’s down here! Keep breathing through your nozzles!”

  Menes turns the ignition off. We stare in utter shock. Menes glares at the screen, seemingly mesmerized by the image that lies before him.

  “What is it?” Maya says softly.

  Menes stares at the high-resolution images. He has an incredulous look on his face. Menes places his Quark imaging glasses on so that he can see through the surface. “There are thousands of bodies down here! They are all mummified, ready to be—”

  “Sent off to the afterworld,” Maya says. “Like a waiting list for heaven.”

  Menes nods. “Or wherever they came from. Something must have interrupted them, and here they sit.”

  “For thousands of years,” I add.

  “Many thousands of years, Menes whispers under his breath.

  “So, for all practical purposes, we’re inside of a tomb,” Proto utters, looking dumfounded.

  “Maybe,” I hear Menes say. “More importantly, for now, with the help of our masks, we should be able to breathe for a while, until the windstorm above subsides.”

  “We’ll be all right. There’s enough air in those ventilating tubes to last a few hours,” Menes proclaims.

  “This is, like, retro spooky,” Proto says. Her face is an ashen gray, and for onc
e, she’s speechless.

  “What do you mean?” Menes asks as he adjusts his white fedora.

  “I mean, this is creepy. These bodies still look preserved.”

  Menes holds out his hand, ushering Proto and Maya out of the sand-covered vehicle. Then he smiles. “C’mon, Michael; I think we’re all in for a treat.”

  Strangely, I feel as if we are inside a sand tomb, yet the air pocket is immense. It’s like some strange energy force has sealed the entire area. Menes takes out a crowbar from his monster Jeep and wedges it deeply under an ancient-looking door. As I touch the sandy ancient portal; I feel a tingle, as if a mild electrical current is running through it.

  “What’s going on?” Maya inquires.

  “It’s an X point,” I say. “Or you may want to call it an electron diffusion.” Maya inquires as she sways her head, trying to get all the sand out of her hair.

  “It’s a place where the magnetic field on earth creates a direct pathway toward the sun. I wonder if the solar deity Ra is behind this somehow.”

  “Have we found it?” Maya asks.

  I nod. “I believe so. The earth’s magnetic force is prodigious.”

  Suddenly the door creeps open like a ghost out of the past; we observe sandy walls with odd markings, myriad sarcophagus-like tombs, and odd-looking skeletons that don’t appear to be human.

  “My God, what’s going on, Menes?”

  We huddle around one of the skeletons sprawled before us. The bodies are certainly larger than the average-sized human, but the heads are smaller. “What are those?” I say incredulously.

  “They almost look like large talons; the skeleton appears to resemble a huge bird,” Menes whispers.

  “Even though the skeleton is three thousand years old,” I say, “I can see that the appendages have long, curved, hooked nails. We’re staring at a bird!”

  We all stand in silence like mannequins.

  “My God!” I utter in incredulous shock. “We are staring at the six-foot skeleton of a raptor—a bird of prey.”

  Menes runs his fingers over the beak; he stares into the eyes of the enlarged skeleton.

  “I’m sure glad he’s dead,” Menes quips. “I don’t think I’d last very long with this guy.”

  “What is it?” Maya utters softly.

  “I think the derivation comes from the word ‘rapere.’” I say quizzically.

  “What’s he holding?”

  “It’s a sword. What the hell? No way!”

  “What in the world have we found?” Proto whispers.

  Menes runs his fingers along the skeleton, touching the long, curved talons. His face has transformed to an ashen gray. He walks over to the walls, running his rough hands along the cool, smooth surface.

  Oddly, a cool breeze seems to be blowing through the sand. “Uncanny,” I say out loud.

  Menes reaches out, slowly touching the air around us. “There’s an odd, mystical force in this tomb,” he whispers. Can you feel it?”

  It feels like a charged blanket, electrical current and all.

  “It feels magnetic,” I say.

  We all begin waving our hands through the air as if we are feeling a thousand ghosts inhabiting the tomb.

  “It’s an electromagnetic force field,” I say. It’s surging through this area!” I glance over at Menes.

  “There is definitely an aerodynamic current that is creeping as if it is human, stealthily tiptoeing through this crypt.” Menes bobs his head up and down. “We’re almost standing right on it, Mr. Eisenstein.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Proto inquires.

  “Anyone remember Project Pegasus? Actually, there were seven incarnations of this program. We’re right on the cusp of a vortal tunnel. Once you enter this puppy, be prepared to move at warp speed,” I say.

  “Like the ancient movie Spaceballs?” Proto quips.

  I nod, trying hard not to laugh. “Yeah, except this is for real. We’re on the precipice of what’s referred to as a stargate!” I proclaim.

  “I think we’ve entered a location that will redefine our history and our belief system.” Menes swallows. “This is a mastaba, I think. It’s one of those flat-roofed structures that’s rectangular in nature; it is a burial site for many eminent Egyptians.”

  “But it was invaded by a species of birds,” I say incredulously.

  “Precisely,” Menes affirms. “Not just birds, however; They are definitely a hybrid type that involves a number of different species. We have found the resting place of the mystical bird Cerberus Thoth Asmodeus, the great warrior! Menes stares at us in wonderment. “We now have proof that inhuman extraterrestrial beings were on this planet thousands of years ago! We’re going all the way back to the protodynastic period, when a bird culture ruled this planet.”

  “You mean avian extraterrestrials?” I inquire incredulously.

  “No, Michael, I don’t think so. I’m not sure why, but those creatures were speculated to be from another universe, perhaps just passing through. I’m speaking of warrior birds that somehow materialized here through space portals, or stargates.” Menes places his finger on the sandy, grainy walls. “Here he is!”

  The four of us creep in closer, examining the evidence.

  “These birds are from another planet, and I think I know which one.” Placing my glasses on, I peer into the majestic eyes of the warrior Thoth.

  “This is so remarkable,” Maya exclaims. “There’s a marking here,” she says softly. “It says, ‘Hevyon.’”

  Menes nods. “I believe that’s what it was called then.”

  “Why then?” Proto says softly.

  “Well, because it was changed about two thousand years ago … I believe they now call it Hevyo … but I have no reason why. Perhaps there was an upheaval on the planet—a mutiny!”

  “Thoth from Hevyo,” I whisper. “I’ve heard so many stories about him. He must have been an incredible warrior and leader.”

  Menes nods.

  “More importantly, I think that we have found one of the X spots that allow a time portal to exist!” I say.

  “Oh my God, we have another problem. I just checked my interstellar Internet guide.” Proto shakes her head in dismay. “You guys aren’t going to believe this! This just posted. Victoria Vorashian was shot by two people by the names of Falk and Lark. You’re not going to believe this, Michael; she’s dead! They’re on their way right now to see the great spiritual man…Eschew!

  “Eschew!” I exclaim. A bone chilling wave of fear streams through my body.

  “That’s the man Ezekial warned be about,” I whisper.

  CHAPTER 60

  May 4, 2401

  3:13 a.m.

  “So what do we do now?” I inquire.

  Menes cannot keep his eyes of the warrior Thoth. “There’s a secret that we must uncover, and soon,” he says under his breath.

  The crypt smells like two thousand years of dead birds. Maya begins coughing, gesturing irascibly.

  “Get her some water!” I shout.

  Proto comes to the rescue, handing her the canteen strapped to her belt.

  “Thank you. This place is as dry as the Sahara,” Maya utters, slurping some more water.

  “Interesting when cliché meets reality,” Proto quips.

  “Ezekial once told me that our bones are dried up and our hope is lost; we are indeed cut off,” I say. “Behold, I will open your graves and raise your from your graves.”

  “Is that what’s happening here?” Menes says, still staring at the ancient warrior Thoth.

  I nod. “Cerberus!” I proclaim. “Ezekial once told me that I would be tested by a hybrid bird-man named Cerberus Thoth Asmodeus . We need to find him soon!”

  “I’m on it!” Proto says. “I think I can find the perpetrator. Menes, you’re a historian; what p
eriod of time are we in right now?”

  Menes clears his throat. “I’d say that we are looking at the end of Egypt’s Old Kingdom, probably during the time of Theban prince Mentuhotep. He was the prince when they toppled the great Heracleopolis.”

  Proto’s fingers are hitting mathematical coordinates with lightning proficiency. She smiles. “This isn’t your father’s Internet, boys. We’ve come a long way since 2378. I’ve invented something called MUMS that should take us to the man responsible for Victoria’s death.”

  We all stare at Proto incredulously. Maya smiles. “Nice to have friends like you guys,” she says, nudging me.

  “MUMS is an acronym for ‘mind-uploading movie software.’ Our state-of-the-art technology allows me to do a few things. One, we can do something called WBE—whole-brain emulation.”

  “In English,” Menes quips.

  “It means mind copying, which is simply a way of downloading thoughts from people even if their reality is light-years away. We learned how to do that when we sent people to Mars. It’s a reliable technology that has served us well. It’s sort of combining a reality tape with actual thoughts put into a sort of script.”

  “Like a movie?” Maya asks.

  “Exactly like a movie, voice-over and all.”

  “How do we find our villain?”

  “I’m almost there!” Proto announces. “It’s just a matter of matching a description of the person. We already have the name—Cerberus Asmodeus Thoth.”

  “You’re kidding,” I say, knowing that Proto is capable of performing the impossible.

  “Once we locate the entities, we can scan the physical, mental, and emotional qualities of the people we are tracing. Then we replace their neurons with fresh neurons and download it all into my computer, which I’m doing now. Then they’ll appear right in front of us—live!”

  “I can’t believe it!” Maya exclaims in a creepy prehistoric voice. “What are we looking at?”