by Alten-Steve
“An EMP?” Fear grips Commander Moreau’s intestines. “There shouldn’t be any electromagnetic interference, Major, unless there’s been a nuclear fallout?”
“No, sir, there’s been no fallout. Our ground-based missile warning sites confirm no detonations of any kind. Whatever’s causing this interference is coming from another source.”
“Where? I want to know—”
“Sir, we’re attempting to pinpoint the origin of the interference, but it’s going to take some time. Our satellites don’t seem to be functioning properly.”
“General!” A technician looks up, a baffled expression on his face. “Sir, our missiles were destroyed as well.”
“You mean they self-destructed.”
“No, sir. I mean they were destroyed.”
*
Raven Rock Underground Command Center, Maryland 2:31 a.m.
Personnel within the subterranean command center are silently hugging and weeping, their exuberant emotions held in check by a feeling of sorrow as news of the president’s death and the losses in Alaska and Hawaii spread through the facility.
Pierre Borgia, General Fecondo, and Dick Przystas huddle within the president’s private office, listening intently to General Doroshow at STRATCOM command.
“What I’m telling you, gentlemen, is that Grozny’s missiles did not self-destruct. It was some kind of electromagnetic force field that disabled Russia’s ICBMs, as well as our own.”
“What’s the source of the interference?” Borgia asks.
“Still unknown, but whatever it is, it’s shut down every satellite we have in orbit. It’s like God got pissed off and threw a blanket on top of the entire planet.”
Beneath the Kukulcán Pyramid
“Mick, can you hear me?” Dominique caresses his head in her lap, stroking his hair. She feels him stir. “Mick?”
He opens his eyes. “Dom?”
She pulls his face to hers, kissing and hugging him. “God dammit, Mick, you scared the hell out of me.”
“What happened?”
“Don’t you remember? You rose out of that sarcophagus like some kind of Mayan ghost and activated this vessel.”
Mick sits up and looks around. Alien circuit boards and control stations pulsate with power behind the tinted glass-like walls and flooring. Waves of electric-blue energy ripple upward every few seconds along the walls and cathedral ceiling, disappearing up through the chimneylike orifice overhead.
“I did this?”
Dominique stifles his question with her lips. “I love you.”
He smiles. “I love you.”
24
DECEMBER 15, 2012: ABOARD THE USS BOONE, GULF OF MEXICO
Supreme Court Justice Seamus McCaffery’s stomach is still a bit queasy from the early-morning helicopter ride. Crossing the warship’s deck, he follows the ensign into the superstructure, then through tight corridors leading to the captain’s briefing room.
Seated at a small conference table are Vice President Ennis Chaney, General Joseph Fecondo, and Captain Loos.
The men stand as the judge removes his Bible. He nods to Chaney. “Looks to me like you didn’t get much sleep either. You ready?”
“Let’s get this over with.” He places his left hand on the Bible and raises his right hand. “I, Ennis William Chaney, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States, so help me God.”
“And may God help us all.”
A lieutenant enters. “General Fecondo, the Ranger team’s on board. The choppers are ready when you are.”
Kukulcán Pyramid, Chichén Itzá
Mick leads Dominique through a small corridor which dead-ends at a sealed passage. As they near, the door hisses open, allowing them entry into an airtight lockout chamber.
“This is the way out.”
“How do you know?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I just do.”
“But there’s nothing here?”
“Watch.” Mick places his hand against a dark keypad situated against the far wall. The frame of a large circular door instantly materializes along the metallic hull.
“Jesus … I suppose you don’t know how you did that either?”
“Guardian must have implanted the knowledge into my subconscious. I just have no idea when he did it—or how.”
The outer hull door opens, revealing a narrow passage cut within the bedrock of limestone. Mick turns on his flashlight and they exit, the starship’s door sealing shut behind them.
The shoulder-width corridor is pitch-dark, the air heavy with humidity. The beam from Mick’s light reveals the narrow steps of a steep, circular stairwell rising through the limestone at a near-vertical angle.
He reaches back and takes her hand. “Be careful, it’s slippery.”
It takes them fifteen minutes to reach the summit, the twisting climb dead-ending at a ceiling constructed of polished white metal.
“Okay, now what?”
Before Mick can respond, a six-foot-square panel rises on four hydraulic pistons, exposing their eyes to the blinding light of day.
Mick climbs out, then helps Dominique up. Turning to face the light, they are surprised to find themselves standing in the northern corridor of the Kukulcán temple.
The top of the metallic panel, concealed beneath four feet of solid limestone, slips back into position, resealing the entrance to the starship.
“No wonder we never found the passage,” Mick whispers.
Dominique steps out onto the platform. “It must be close to noon, but the park’s deserted.”
“Something must have happened.”
They hear the thundering echo of chopper blades as the two Navy helicopters approach from the west.
“Mick, maybe we better go.”
*
The redhead lies prone, his girth concealed beneath the dense jungle foliage. Peering through the high-powered scope of his hunting rifle, he watches Mick Gabriel and the girl step out onto the pyramid’s northern platform. Raymond pushes back the safety, smiling as he aligns the crosshairs over his victim’s heart.
The chopper pilot slows his airship to hover over the Great Ball Court. “Sirs, directly below us.”
Chaney and General Fecondo stare at the winged black object poised almost dead center of the I-shaped Mayan arena. “Christ—it’s another one of those pure-fusion objects.”
“Why hasn’t it detonated?”
The sound of gunfire echoes across the esplanade.
Chaney points to the pyramid. “Get us over there!”
Mick is on his back, struggling to breathe. Blood gushes from his scorching hot chest. He stares into the midday sky, the shadow of Dominique’s face blotting out the sun. He feels her tears fall on his cheek, her mouth moving in slow motion as she presses her palm to the wound, yet he can hear nothing but the beating of his own heart.
Guardian?
Close your eyes …
25
DECEMBER 16–20, 2012
And chaos reigned …
The revelation of humanity’s near disaster with thermonuclear annihilation was greeted with disbelief and relief, then fear and universal outrage. How could the world’s leaders have allowed their egos to push humanity over the edge? How could they have been so arrogant? How could they have been so blind?
Outrage would quickly lead to violence. For two days and nights, anarchy ruled much of the globe. Halls of government were destroyed, military installations ransacked, and the embassies of the United States, Russia, and China overrun, as billions of people across the planet marched upon their capitals, demanding change.
Rather than attempt to quell the violence with more violence, President Chaney chose to channel it, directing the American public’s vengeance toward more than one hundred subterranean bunkers, built with taxpayer money, which had been designed to house the political eli
te during the nuclear holocaust. The destruction of these top-secret facilities seemed to quell the public’s anger, serving notice that everyone—the haves and have-nots—were now on equal, though somewhat unsteady footing.
Chaney then urged the United Nations Secretary-General to introduce a resolution based on recommendations by the National Academy of Sciences, the Carnegie Commission, and Admiral Stansfield Turner, to eliminate all nuclear and biological weapons of destruction. Any country refusing to comply would face a UN invasion force, its leaders targeted for execution.
Urged on by the masses, all member nations, with the exception of North Korea, quickly agreed to comply.
On December 17, Kim Jong-Il committed suicide.
Russian President Viktor Grozny signed the treaty, then publicly blamed the Communist Party for Russia’s subversive military buildup over the last two decades. After more than two hundred public executions, he assured his people that government reform would be swift.
With no one to challenge him, he remained in office, stronger than ever.
On the morning of December 17, the media finally learned about the mysterious electromagnetic array and how it had prevented nuclear annihilation. A religious fervor took hold of the masses. Drawn together by fear, they huddled and prayed, flocking to churches and synagogues, waiting for the Messiah and the Second Coming of Christ. What they found instead were more signs of the apocalypse.
On the afternoon of the 18th, Korean War veteran Jim McWade returned home from church with his four sons and three twelve-packs of beer. Standing upright within the limestone sinkhole behind his trailer was an immense winged creature. Within hours, half the township of White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia, had descended upon the pond to view the inanimate beast, whose shiny black surface emitted a powerful invisible force field that prevented anyone from touching it.
Within twenty-four hours, another twenty-nine identical creatures had been found in various locations across the globe. Then, on the evening of December 19, the world watched in fascination and horror as television cameras recorded the formation of a monstrous maelstrom within the Gulf of Mexico. From the center of the vortex emerged eight winged creatures, all of which quickly dispersed over the Northern Hemisphere. Two of these objects would land later that night in the southwestern region of the United States, two more in Florida, and one each in Georgia, Kentucky, and Indiana. The last object headed east to perch upon a mountainous ridge overlooking the Arecibo telescope in Puerto Rico.
On the morning of December 20, exobiologist Marvin Teperman confirmed to the world that the seven pure-fusion detonations had actually originated from the objects released by the alien vessel buried beneath the Gulf of Mexico. Referring to the objects as “drones,” the exobiologist theorized that the thirty-seven creatures now dispersed throughout the globe contained enough fusion power to vaporize upwards of a million square miles of land. Teperman further went on to state that the alien devices were rigged to a solar fuse, which explained their night-time release and dawn detonations. Somehow the mysterious array, originating from within the Kukulcán pyramid, had managed to jam the firing mechanisms, preventing the drones from exploding.
Should the array falter, Teperman warned, the drones would detonate.
And once again, the masses panicked.
26
DECEMBER 20, 2012: MERIDA HOSPITAL, YUCATÁN PENINSULA
A soft breeze filters through the Venetian blinds, cooling his face. As the feverish haze lifts, he hears the distant voice of an angel, her familiar words echoing in his mind.
Art thou gone so? Love … lord—ay husband, friend. I must hear from thee every day in the hour, for in a minute there are many days.
Swimming against the tide of unconsciousness, he forces his eyes open to slits, just enough to see her sitting over him, reading from the paperback.
“Oh, God, I have an ill-divining soul. Methinks I see thee, now thou art so low, as one dead in the bottom of a tomb. Either my eyesight fails or thou lookest pale—”
“And trust me, love,” he rasps, “in my eye, so do you.”
“Mick!”
He opens his eyes as she pushes her cheek to his, registering her hot tears and the excruciating weight on his chest as she hugs him, whispering, “I love you.”
“I love you.” He struggles to speak, his throat parched.
She positions a cup of water to his lips, and he takes a few sips.
“Where—”
“You’re in a hospital in Merida. Raymond shot you. The doctor said the bullet stopped an eighth of an inch from your heart. Everyone says you should be dead.”
He forces a smile, rasping, “They jest at scars that never felt a wound.” He attempts to sit up, the pain pushing him back down again. “Maybe a small wound.”
“Mick, so much has happened—”
“What day is it?”
“The twentieth. Tomorrow’s the winter solstice, and everyone’s scared shitless—”
The door bursts open, an American physician strolling in, followed by Ennis Chaney, a Mexican nurse, and Marvin Teperman. Mick notices heavily armed American soldiers stationed in the outer corridor.
The doctor leans down, examining his eyes with a flashlight pen. “Welcome back, Mr Gabriel. And how are we feeling today?”
“Sore. Hungry. And a bit disoriented.”
“It’s no wonder, you’ve been unconscious for five days. Let’s take a look at that wound.” The doctor pulls back the bandage. “Amazing. Absolutely amazing. I’ve never seen a wound heal so quickly.”
Chaney steps forward. “Is he well enough to speak?”
“I should think so. Nurse, change his dressing, then start him on another IV of—”
“Not now, Doctor,” Chaney interrupts. “We need a few minutes with Mr Gabriel. Alone.”
“Of course, Mr President.”
Mick watches the physician and nurse leave, an MP in the corridor closing the door behind them. “Mr President? Seems like you get a promotion every time we meet.”
The raccoon eyes do not look amused. “President Maller’s dead. Put a bullet through his own head five days ago in an attempt to get the Russians and Chinese to abort an all-out nuclear assault.”
“Jesus …”
“The world owes you a debt of thanks. Whatever you activated within that Mayan pyramid destroyed the missiles.”
Mick closes his eyes. My God, it really happened. I thought it was all a dream …
Dominique squeezes his hand.
“It’s some kind of highly charged, electromagnetic array,” Marvin says, “like nothing we’ve ever seen. The signal’s still active, thank God, because it’s keeping those drones from exploding—”
“Drones?” Mick opens his eyes. “What drones?”
Marvin removes a photograph from his briefcase and hands it to him. “Thirty-eight of these things have landed across the globe since you were brought in.”
He stares at the photo of a black bat-like creature, perched on a gray mountaintop, its wings expanded. “It’s the object I saw rising out of the spaceship, the one buried in the Gulf of Mexico.” He looks up at Dominique. “I know where I’ve seen them before. Nazca. Life-size images of these creatures have been carved all over the plateau.”
Marvin looks at Chaney, a bit uncertain. “This photo was taken several days ago on a mountaintop in Arecibo.”
Chaney pulls up a chair. “The creature you claimed you saw in the alien vessel—that drone landed in Australia and wiped out most of the Nullarbor Plain. We now know that each one of these objects possesses some sort of pure-fusion device, explosives capable of vaporizing entire landscapes. Six of these drones detonated in Asia over the last two weeks, the last three wiping out more than two million people in China and Russia.”
Mick feels his hands shaking. “These detonations precipitated the nuclear assault?”
Chaney nods. “Like Marvin said, another thirty-eight of these things were discharged from that alien ves
sel over the last five nights. So far, none has detonated.”
Mick recalls Guardian’s words. The activation of the Nephilim array will forestall the end, but only the destruction of Tezcatilpoca and the Black Road can prevent our enemy from passing through to your world.
“We’ve compiled a list of the drones that haven’t detonated. Gabriel, are you listening?”
“Huh? Sorry. You say these things are drones?”
“That’s what our scientists are calling them. The air force equates them to an alien version of our Unmanned Aerial Vehicles.”
“Each of these drones are essentially pure-fusion weapons with wings,” Marvin explains. “Like our own UAVs, the drones are remotely controlled, linked by some sort of radio signal to their control center—”
“The vessel in the Gulf?”
“Yes. Once the drone lands in its pretargeted area, a radio signal is dispersed, arming the explosive. Situated on the creature’s tail assembly are rows of bizarre-looking sensors that we believe are high-powered photovoltaic cells. The triggering mechanism uses solar power to detonate the explosive at sunrise.”
“Which explains why these things are always released at night,” Chaney adds. “Seven drones detonated prior to the activation of this array, all seven dispersing west after exiting the vessel in the Gulf. The airspeed of the drones matched the Earth’s rotation, keeping them in darkness until they reached their targeted areas.”
“You said another thirty-eight of these drones have been released?”
“Show him the list, Marvin.” The exobiologist searches his briefcase, producing a computer printout.
DRONE TARGETS
AUSTRALIA
Nullarbor Plain [0]
ASIA
Malaysia [0] Irian Jaya [0] Papua New Guinea [0]
Yunnan Province. China [0] Vilyui Basin. Russia [0]
Kugitangtau Ridge, Turkmenistan [0]