by Alten-Steve
Ming-Ding Slayer is beyond ready to hit something.
The crackling of static in his left ear. The lieutenant colonel adjusts his communicator. “Go ahead, Colonel.”
“Satellite Ops have detected a magnetic flux approaching your position from the north. We believe the alien is traveling through the aquifers and may rise through the sinkhole.”
About fucking time. “Copy that. We’re more than ready.”
Ming-Ding signals for his platoon to take up positions around the sink-hole. Each man carries an OICW (Objective Individual Combat Weapon), the most lethal machine gun in the world. The fourteen-pound device has two barrels, one to shoot 5.56 mm rounds of ammunition, the other for the 20 mm HE air-bursting rounds that can be set to explode on impact or after a short delay, in front of, behind, or above an enemy target.
Sgt John “Dirty Red” McCormack joins the lieutenant colonel, the two men staring into the pond scum below. “So, where is this fucking alien?”
“Murphy’s law of combat number sixteen. If you’ve secured an objective, don’t forget to let the enemy know about it.”
The ground begins trembling, ripples spreading across the surface below.
“Guess I spoke too soon.” Ming-Ding signals to his men, then backs away from the edge as the tremors grow stronger.
Dirty Red stares down his laser sight. Come on, motherfucker. Come and get it.
The ground is jumping so much, the commandos can hardly aim.
The far wall of the cenote collapses. A blast of lime-stone-and-water rain explodes outward—
The alien rises out of the cenote.
Ming-Ding’s muscles tighten in fear. “Sonuva-bitch—Fire! Fire!”
A carpet of lead roars from the commandos’ guns.
The bullets never reach the alien. A clear shield of energy, visible only through its distortion, envelops the serpent like a second skin. As the bullets enter the field, they appear to vaporize in midair.
“What in the fuck—?” Ming-Ding stares in horror and confusion as his men continue firing.
Moving past the commandoes as if they weren’t there, the alien entity glides down the Mayan sacbe, its locomotive-size girth pushing through the jungle foliage toward the pyramid.
Ming-Ding activates the transmitter on his helmet. “Colonel, we made contact with the alien—or at least we tried to. Our bullets were useless, sir—they just sort of vanished into thin air.”
Mick can hear the echo of the approaching helicopter’s rotors beating the air as he stares at the Mayan Ball Court from atop the Kukulcán, watching as the naval airship lands on the lawn adjacent to the pyramid’s western stairwell.
His heart pounds as he sees Dominique exit behind the president and two US army commandos.
Michael …
Mick gasps, turning to the north. He can sense something approaching from the jungle.
Something immense!
The canopy of trees lining the sacbe are uprooted as the being approaches.
On the ground below, four M1-A2 Abrams tanks race down the dirt pathway in single formation, their laser range-finders taking aim down the center of the ancient Mayan road.
Mick’s eyes widen, his heart fluttering.
Above the treetops, the alien’s cranium appears, its crimson eyes glittering like rubies in the afternoon sun.
Tezcatilpoca …
The tanks open fire, four projectiles exploding as one out of the armored vehicle’s 120 mm smoothbore guns.
There is no contact, no explosion. Reaching the alien’s hide, the shells simply disappear into a dense cushion of air with quick, blinding flashes.
Continuing its approach, the serpent glides over the tanks. For a moment, the Abrams tanks vanish within the energy field, only to reappear seconds later, their titanium plates and gun turrets mangled beyond recognition.
Guardian’s words, ringing in his ears: Tezcatilpoca harbors the porthole into the fourth-dimensional corridor.
The porthole into the fourth-dimensional corridor … it’s Tezcatilpoca! Tezcatilpoca IS the porthole!
The plumed serpent rises up the northern balustrade, the demonic eyes luminescent, radiating energy. Swimming within the blood-red corneas, the golden slits of the reptilian pupils widen, as if revealing flames from a hellish furnace.
Mick stares at the creature, his mind gripped in absolute fear. He wants me to enter that?
The serpent pauses at the summit. Ignoring Mick, it opens its mouth, exhaling a vaporous gust of emerald energy from between the retracted fangs.
With a great whoosh, the limestone temple ignites into unearthly vermilion flames, the alien fire melting the stone blocks within seconds.
Mick backs away from the intense heat, taking cover along the top three steps of the northern stairs.
The flames extinguish. From the conflagration, protruding like a flagpole from what little remains of the temple’s central wall—a fifteen-foot-high iridium antenna.
The array!
You are Hunahpu. You have the ability to access the Nephilim array.
The sudden instinct for survival releases a long-dormant thought process. Highly charged impulses course through the nerve-endings in Mick’s fingers and into the jade object, causing it to radiate with an intense, almost blinding energy.
The alien stops dead in its tracks, its amber pupils disappearing within its crimson eye slits.
Mick’s heart is pounding like a jackhammer, his arm quivering from the power emanating though his body.
The blinded viper gazes at the stone as if in a trance. Mick closes his eyes, fighting to maintain his sanity. Okay, just stay calm. Lead it away from the array.
Keeping his arm extended, he descends, one harrowing step at a time, down the western staircase.
As if being led on an invisible leash, the being follows him down.
Dominique races to him—then stops—her eyes widening in shock. “Oh, God. Oh my God—”
Chaney, General Fecondo, and two army commandos remain motionless behind one of the short walls of the ball court, their minds unable to fathom what their eyes are seeing.
“Dominique!” With his free hand, Mick shakes her out of her stupor. “Dom, you can’t be here!”
“Oh, God—” She grabs his hand, dragging him back. “Come on—”
“No, wait—Dom, do you remember what I told you? Do you remember what symbolized the entrance to the Underworld in the Popol Vuh?”
She turns to face him, then looks up at the monstrous alien. “Oh, no. Oh, God, no—”
“Dom, the plumed serpent is the portal to the Black Road—”
“No—”
“And I think I’m One Hunahpu!”
Michael …
Mick’s flesh crawls.
She stares at him in absolute fear, wind-blown tears streaking across her face. “What are you going to do? You’re not going to sacrifice yourself, are you?”
“Dom—”
“No!” She grabs his arm.
I’m coming, Michael. I can feel your fear …
“I won’t let you do it! Mick, please … I love you—”
Mick feels his will weakening. “Dom, I love you, and I’m really scared. But please, if you ever want to see me again, you have to go, please go, right now!” Mick turns to Chaney. “Get her away from here! Now!”
General Fecondo and the two commandos drag her, kicking and screaming, back to the chopper.
Chaney moves next to Mick, his eyes never leaving the alien. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure, but whatever happens, keep Dominique away from here.”
“You have my word. Now do us all a favor and kill this thing.” Chaney backs away, then climbs into the chopper.
The airship lifts off.
A wave of dizziness forces Mick to one knee, causing him to lose his concentration.
The light emanating from the jade stone diminishes.
The alien serpent shakes its mammoth head. Its ambe
r pupils reappear, the vertical slits widening. Two additional eyes embedded in the alien’s cheek pits regain focus on Mick’s thermal signature and on the waning brilliance of his weapon.
Not good … Stay focused—
Tezcatilpoca rears back on its lower torso, roaring a hideous alien syllable, as if declaring itself no longer under Mick’s spell.
All four viper eyes burn into Mick, focusing on him as if seeing him for the first time. The jaws open. A sizzling black bile drips from the retracted upper fangs, splattering like acidic venom upon the limestone steps below.
Adrenaline courses through Mick’s body. He closes his eyes to die—then, with it a sudden spasm of primal cognizance, he feels the array in his mind.
Tezcatilpoca hyperextends its jaws, baring its hideous fangs—launching its upper torso at the Hunahpu with terrifying speed.
Like a bolt of lightning, the electric blue burst of energy ignites from the pyramid’s antenna, catching the serpent in midstrike. Impaled within the array, the creature writhes in agony, its girth disappearing then reappearing within waves of sizzling emerald energy, its scale-like plumage and spines standing on end in rhythmic spasms.
Mick remains motionless before the alien monstrosity, his eyes remaining closed as he directs his newfound Hunahpu instincts, focusing the enormous power of the Guardian’s array upon his shrieking enemy.
Shuddering in rage, Tezcatilpoca unleashes a deafening resonance, the verbal assault echoing across the esplanade, causing the columns of the Warriors’ Complex to topple.
Opening his eyes, Mick holds the center stone overhead and wills the obsidian dagger from its glowing sheath.
The jade object pulsates furiously, radiating a white-hot energy, the heat singeing his hand.
Taking aim, he hurls the object at the alien’s open maw.
An eruption of pure energy—like a sun going nova. Tezcatilpoca goes into spasms—as if struck by a billion watts of electricity.
Shielding his eyes, Mick falls to his knees, disengaging the array.
The lifeless alien being collapses upon the northern steps, its once-luminescent eyes melding into shades of gray, its open mouth coming to rest between the two limestone serpent heads, positioned along either side of the northern balustrade like bookends.
Mick collapses onto his back, his limbs quivering, his lungs fighting to catch a breath.
Her face pressed against the helicopter’s bay window, Dominique screams for joy, then leaps over the seat in front of her and strangles Chaney in a bear hug.
“Okay, okay. Take us down, Lieutenant. This young lady wants to see her man.”
General Fecondo has the radio receiver pressed to his ear, trying to hear over the shouting within the airship. “Say again, Admiral Gordon—”
The CNO’s voice crackles over the headphone. “Repeat— the alien vessel is still shielded. You may have killed the beast, but its power source is still very active.”
Eyes closed, Mick lies back on the hard, grass-covered esplanade, his exhausted mind struggling to re-establish the neural connection that had somehow allowed him to activate Guardian’s array.
Frustrated, he sits up, staring at the obsidian blade in his hand. I’m Hunahpu, but I’m not the One. I can’t access the Black Road. I can’t seal the portal. He turns to see a platoon of heavily armed commandos emerge from the jungle.
Ming-Ding Slayer drags him to his feet. “Sonuva bitch, Gabriel, how the hell you do it?”
“I wish I knew.”
Several commandos fire off rounds at the inanimate alien’s head, their bullets vaporizing before striking the target.
Michael …
Mick looks up—startled. The voice is different—familiar. Somehow soothing.
Guardian …
Closing his eyes, he allows the voice to guide his thoughts deeper into the depths of his mind.
Push aside your fear, Hunahpu. Open the portal and enter. The Under Lords left on Earth will come forward to challenge you. They will attempt to prevent you from sealing the cosmic portal before the Death God arrives.
Mick opens his eyes, focusing on Tezcatilpoca’s hideous mouth.
From the Guardian’s antenna an electric blue beacon of energy ignites, and locks on to the serpent’s inanimate skull.
The upper jaw begins opening—the startled commandos jump back, several futilely opening fire on the dead beast.
Mick closes his eyes, maintaining his focus. The alien’s jaws hyperextend, exposing hideous ebony fangs, surrounded by hundreds of needle-sharp teeth.
And then a second viperous head appears. Identical but slightly smaller, it juts forward to protrude from the mouth of the first.
Mick clenches his eyes shut, forcing his concentration deeper. A third and final head pushes out from the mouth of the second, the three extended serpent jaws locking in place.
The array shuts down. Mick drops to one knee, his focus sapped, his mind exhausted from the effort.
And then, high above the pyramid appears a rotating emerald cylinder of energy, a cosmic fourth-dimensional corridor traversing space and time, reaching down from the darkening heavens to link with the tail of the inanimate alien serpent.
The commandos drop their weapons. Ming-Ding falls to his knees, stunned, as if he is gazing into the face of God.
Somewhere off to Mick’s right, the president’s helicopter lands.
Mick gazes into the open portal, weighing his decision, struggling to push aside his fear.
“Mick!”
Dominique climbs down from the chopper.
Guardian’s words: You must not allow her to enter. “Chaney, keep her back!”
The president grabs her wrist.
“Let me go! Mick, what are you doing—?”
He looks at her, feeling the heaviness growing in his chest. Go—do it now, before she follows!
Clutching the obsidian dagger in his right hand, he turns away, then steps over the bottom rows of teeth and enters the first of the serpent’s hyperextended mouths.
28
The reptilian jaws close behind him, the third head retracting into the mouth of the second.
Mick is standing in absolute darkness, his heart beating like a timpani. Suddenly, the entrance seems to suck him forward without actually moving him, a nauseating sensation tugging at his internal organs, as if his intestines are being unraveled. Dizzy, he squeezes his eyes shut, clutching the obsidian blade to his chest.
Light.
He opens his eyes, the squeamish feeling gone. He is no longer in the serpent’s mouth. He is standing within the Mayan Ball Court, which is now enclosed within an enormous whirling cylinder of emerald energy.
I’ve entered the porthole … I’m on the cusp of another dimension …
It is as if he is viewing the world through vividly colored glasses. Beyond his rotating surroundings he can see a lavender sky, the heavens blazing with a million stars, each exuding a kaleidoscope of energy waves as it moves across the tapestry of the universe. Directly overhead is the dark rift, running like a jagged cosmic river of purple gas across the very center of the magenta cosmos.
As he steps forward, the surrounding objects blur in his peripheral vision as if he is moving faster than his eyes can focus.
One hundred yards away, at the far end of the enclosed ball court, he sees the second mouth of the serpent, the orifice positioned below the Temple of the Bearded Man.
Moving out from the open jowls—a figure—cloaked from hood to ground in a black shroud.
Mick’s limbs quiver with adrenaline and fear. He grips the dagger tighter.
The being approaches. Heavy-robed sleeves rise up along either side of the hood, unseen hands pulling it back and away, revealing the face—
Mick’s eyes widen in disbelief. The muscles in his legs turn to gelatin. He drops to his knees, the intensity of his emotions drowning any thoughts from his overwrought mind.
Maria Gabriel looks down at her son and smiles.
&n
bsp; She is young again, a ravishing woman in her early thirties. The cancer is gone, the paleness of death replaced by a healthy glow. Wavy dark curls dangle around her neck, her ebony eyes gazing at his with a mother’s love. “Michael.”
“No … you can’t … you can’t possibly be real.” He chokes out the words.
She touches his cheek. “But I am real, Michael. And I’ve missed you so much.”
“God, I’ve missed you, too.” He grips her hand, looking up at her face. “Mom … how?”
“There’s so much you don’t understand. Our purpose in life, the metamorphosis of dying—each a process, allowing us to shed our physical bonds so that we may evolve and enter a higher plane.”
“But why are you here? What is this place?”
“A nexus, a living portal connecting one world to another. I’ve been sent to guide you, Michael. You’ve been misled, my darling, deceived by the Guardian. Everything they told you were lies. The opening of the portal is the Second Coming. It is the Guardian who is evil. The spirit of Xibalba is moving across the cosmos. It will pass over the Earth, bringing peace and love to humanity. This is humanity’s destiny, my son … and yours.”
“I … I don’t understand.”
She smiles at him, brushing the hair from his forehead. “You are One Hunahpu—First-Father. You are to be the guide, the conduit between the flesh and the other world.”
Maria raises her arm gracefully, pointing to the end of the ball court. Another figure appears from the serpent’s mouth, this one cloaked in white. “See? First-Mother awaits.”
Mick’s mouth drops open. It is Dominique!
His mother stops him. “Wait. Be gentle, Michael. She’s confused, she is still in a state of flux.”
“What do you mean?”
Maria turns and takes Dominique’s hand. The girl’s eyes are wide and as innocent as a lamb’s, her beauty absolutely bewitching. “She couldn’t bear to live without you.”
“She’s dead?”
“Suicide.” Mick gasps as his mother gently pulls the strands of black hair away from Dominique’s right temple, revealing an oozing bullet hole.