by Alten-Steve
Jake and Manny: yin and yang.
Polar opposites, sharing a symbiotic relationship. Jacob was a spiritual being trapped in a physical form, his dedication to his “perceived” life’s mission often voiding out his human emotions. Immanuel was the human condition with all its flaws—emotion driven by ego. A blue-collar athlete, Manny had found dynamite in his developing adolescence—a harbor of tranquility where everything slowed down, a state of existence where fulfillment came in abundance and peak performance was ensured.
Athletes called it the zone.
Jacob called it the Nexus.
The Nexus was a higher dimension, an unveiled channel to the Creator’s light. As his alter ego, Samuel “the Mule” Agler, Manny had used the Nexus to score touchdowns and hit tape-measure home runs seemingly at will. The big man on campus at the University of Miami, he had quickly become the most coveted amateur athlete in modern history and a cult hero who could have anything he desired. Fame and fortune rested at his feet, and his ego basked in its glory—
—his fall from grace all but guaranteed.
Like every soul intoxicated by power, the Mule fell hard. In the span of a few weeks leading up to his twentieth birthday, the dark-haired Gabriel twin lost his athletic career, his future, his identity, his family … and his fiancée.
Lauren Beckmeyer was an innocent bystander. A scholar athlete motivated by altruism, she was a young woman with a bright future who had loved “Sam” since their second year together in junior high school. On the fateful early morning of her fiancé’s twentieth birthday she would discover his true identity. Then, only moments after Immanuel Gabriel refused to join his twin brother aboard the starship Balam, Lauren was felled by a sniper’s bullet intended for him.
Though the killer had been contracted by Lilith Mabus, Manny blamed Lauren’s death on Jacob.
Suddenly forced into exile, unable to cope with the loss of the only woman he had ever loved, Manny fell into a deep depression that kept Beck and Kurtz on an around-the-clock suicide watch. While Dave Mohr and his wife, Eve, had become surrogate parents to Jacob, they hardly knew Manny, and neither they nor the two bodyguards felt qualified to deal with the despondent twin’s grief. Desperate, they arranged a clandestine reunion between Manny and his foster father, the man who had raised him since his orchestrated death seven years earlier.
The fugitive twin spent two weeks hiding out with Gene Agler in a motel room in the Pocono Mountains, vocalizing his hatred and contempt for his missing brother, whose insistence upon following the “hero twin legacy” had left his own life shattered.
Agler consoled his foster son by comparing the Gabriel boys to another famous set of twins. “Sam, I know you’re not religious, but do you remember the story of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob? If you recall, Jacob also had a twin brother, Esau.”
“Esau was like some hairy hunter who wanted to kill his brother after Jacob tricked their father into giving him his birthright.”
“Basically, yes. But that’s just the simplistic Bible story. There’s a far deeper meaning hidden in the passage. Jacob was attuned to the light of the Creator. Esau, a man of enormous ego, represented the negative side of existence. Esau’s hatred for his twin grew out of jealousy and anger, his internal fire fanned by a voice in his head that cried out, ‘Why isn’t my life perfect? Why must I suffer? Why don’t I have money or wealth or good health?’ It’s a voice attuned to darkness.”
“Okay, Dad, what are you saying? That I’m the negative twin? That I’m Esau?”
“Son, the metaphor of Jacob and Esau applies to everyone. Light and darkness cannot coexist in the physical world; enter a dark room with a candle and the light overcomes the darkness relative to its intensity. The darker the room, the more intense the light.
“On a metaphysical level, the light is love, the darkness—hatred. Love is the only weapon that can overcome one’s enemy. When Jacob stole his twin’s birthright, Esau wanted to kill him, forcing Jacob’s mother to send him away in exile. When Jacob returned, Esau had grown in power, commanding an army. But the moment the twins confronted one another, Jacob’s love removed Esau’s hatred and drew him back into the light, and Esau forgave his brother. You see, deep down Esau still felt love for Jacob, which means there was light in Esau.
“Now let’s look at you and your twin. Jake has overshadowed you since birth. He pushed you to train hard since the day you started walking. No doubt he drove you crazy with this Mayan prophecy nonsense, but he also warned you about using the Nexus for selfish reasons, and he was right. Your ego got the better of you, and you became intoxicated by the light, in your case the limelight that came with fame. Things changed when the moment of truth finally arrived: Jacob insisted you accompany him to the Mayan underworld, only you refused. We have no way of knowing the ramifications of that decision, but I suspect something positive may come from it.”
“How do you know that?”
“Think about it, Samuel. Jacob overstepped his boundaries, he tried to use his physical superiority to forcibly drag you aboard the Balam; in doing so, he robbed you of your free will. And what happened? Your genetics suddenly kicked in—you became his physical equal and stopped him.”
“You think that was intended to happen?”
“There are no accidents, Son. We may not understand it, but God has a reason for everything.”
Manny snapped. “Does that include Lauren’s death?”
“Lauren’s death was a pebble tossed into a pond. We have no idea where the ripples may go or what outcome they were meant to affect, just as your decision not to follow the hero twin legacy has no doubt sent ripples across the fabric of space and time. What’s important here is that, like Esau, you lose your hatred and negativity and complete your transformation by moving toward the light.”
“How do I do that?”
“By living a selfless life. By using the powers God gave you for the greater good. You know, I remember how things were, leading up to the events of 2012. Greed and corruption ruled Wall Street and Washington. While people lost their jobs and homes, the two political parties were more focused on waging war against each other, everyone vying for control. The media poured gasoline on the flames, dividing the country in half. Two wars raged on, fostered by hatred and corporate greed, while the stepping stone to World War III loomed in Iran. Fear ruled the day when the tinderbox finally burst into flames. Only a miracle, precipitated by your father, prevented the end of our species. But from that darkness—from that overwhelming negativity and divisiveness that pushed society toward the brink of annihilation—came a new doctrine. Alternative clean energy replaced fossil fuels, forging new industries while helping to heal the environment. The people rallied to change the political process, removing the variable of money from the equation. With lobbyists and big businesses strictly forbidden from the halls of government, Washington began working for the betterment of society instead of for its own self-interests. Once people started working to help one another, the darkness that veiled the light was lifted.”
“Dad, I’m not Jake. I mean, look at me! I’m lost physically … emotionally—”
“Focus on the spiritual side, Samuel. The rest will come.”
Completely naked, Immanuel Gabriel jumps down into the five-foot-deep, freshly excavated hole.
The two bodyguards look at one another. “You sure about this, kid?”
“I’ll be fine. Go on. Bury me up to my neck.”
The sand is cold and coarse, each shovelful stinging his skin. Manny focuses his gaze upon the dark silhouette of the carob tree, its leaves dangling pods of edible seeds. In Roman times, the purity of a gold coin was weighed against the weight of the seeds: twenty-four carats or seeds equaling a pure gold coin, twelve carats being half gold, half alloy. Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai and his son had subsisted on the seeds for thirteen years.
Like the famous sage, Immanuel Gabriel’s intent is to channel the spirit of a righteous man, hoping to discover his own path to f
ulfillment.
The sand reaches his neckline. Beck hides the shovels beneath a bush while Kurtz collects the backpacks, offering Manny a sip of bottled water. “Pep will be stationed below, I’ll guard the trail from above.”
“I’ll be all right.”
“You’ll be in a transcendental state, which means you’ll be vulnerable.” Kurtz removes a small matchbox-size transmitter from his backpack, the device attached to a three-pronged spike. He counts off five paces from the Gabriel twin’s head, then pushes the object into the ground. “On the quarter of every hour I’m going to do perimeter sweeps with my pain cannon. The transmitter will seal you off from the microwaves, anything outside this perimeter gets lit up like a Christmas tree. So if you have to pee, pee in the hole.”
Manny smiles. “You’re like a protective Jewish mother.”
“Somebody has to watch your ass. I mean, what would I do without you?”
“Have a life.”
“I have a life. And I get laid a helluva lot more than you do.”
“The Israeli waitress from Carmel?”
“Actually, she’s an American, Arlene Lieb. She teaches English in the West Bank. Forty-two and divorced, with a set of hooters that could feed a starving African nation. Speaking of which—”
Beck rejoins them. “Perimeter’s secure. Salt talkin’ about his new woman again?”
“You’re so jealous.”
“Know what he told her? He told her he was a film producer, scouting locations for the next Zach Bachman movie. You should see the posters he made up.”
Kurtz’s frat house laugh is infectious. “I said I couldn’t get her a speaking part, but if she could play sexy I might be able to use her as an extra in the opening brothel scene.”
“You never change. I remember you pulling the same crap when Jake and I lived at the compound.”
“What can I say? I’m a dirty old man.”
Beck smirks. “You’re definitely old.”
“You’re only as old as your penis. Remember your penis, Pep? It’s that thing hidden somewhere beneath your belly.”
“All right, you two, go. I’ll see you at sunrise.”
Manny waits until they’re gone before closing his eyes, shifting his brain’s biorhythm back into Theta waves—awaiting the midnight hour and the channels that will open, allowing him to communicate with the higher dimensions.
Cape Canaveral, Florida
May 2, 2047
4:56 p.m. (Eastern Standard Time)
The facility lies on 140,000 acres of wildlife refuge, located on two barrier islands situated to the northeast of Cocoa Beach, Florida. The smaller land-mass wedged between the Banana River and the Atlantic Ocean is Cape Canaveral. Just west of the Cape is Merritt Island, a much larger domain harbored between the Banana and Indian Rivers. Two decades ago, Merritt Island was home to the Kennedy Space Center and her sister organization, NASA. Now, both islands are the property of Project H.O.P.E.
The privately owned site is protected by a small militia and an electrically charged, forty-foot-high perimeter fence. Gun towers are positioned along each corner, two by the adjacent beach, one more along the shoreline of the Banana River. Aerial drones patrol 24/7. No one gets in or out of H.O.P.E. without permission.
The completed Mars shuttles are located in twelve of the twenty-two steel and concrete structures situated on the southernmost tip of Cape Canaveral. As wide as a football field and three times as long, each of these seven-story buildings contains two monstrous bay doors that lead onto one of two launch tarmacs. Unlike the antiquated STS shuttles employed by NASA, the Mars fleet are space planes, designed for horizontal takeoffs and landings.
The private office of Lilith Mabus is located on the fifth floor in Building 1. Bay windows look down upon one of the twelve completed Mars passenger shuttles, the transport vehicle four times larger than those designed seventy years ago by NASA’s engineers and more than twice the girth of H.O.P.E.’s original Earth-orbiting space plane. The CEO works at her computer, carefully finalizing the list of 875 passengers and twenty-four pilots who will be granted salvation on Mars Colony.
The remaining eight thousand elitists who were guaranteed passage, along with the world’s other 9 billion people, will remain behind on Earth to die.
Selecting the survivors had been a tricky process. To design and build the Mars Colony and the fleet of space planes and supply shuttles necessary to complete the venture had required fifteen years, two trillion dollars, and a small city of skilled laborers, engineers, and rocket scientists. Acquiring the talent and money while safeguarding Yellowstone’s rapidly changing timetable had required cunning. Lilith knew how to play the game, offering passage for favors, the threat of cancellation ensuring secrecy. It never bothered her that her financial partners in the New World Order would be left behind. In truth, Lilith had no use for the vermin on Mars; her priority was to amass the most qualified experts in the fields of science, engineering, agriculture, and medicine, then scrutinize the gene pool. Variety was as essential to ensuring the colony’s survival and future expansion as the tens of thousands of frozen plant seeds already en route to the Red Planet. Just as important was compatibility. Democracy was a luxury reserved for large populations—a useful tool that provided the masses with the illusion of freedom.
Mars Colony would function best under autocratic rule. No one perceived as a potential future threat to the Mabus clan’s leadership would be permitted on board.
Lilith is reviewing the medical histories of three hundred electrical engineers when the video communication blinks to life on one of her monitors, establishing a connection with Mars.
Alexei Lundgard’s face appears, the bearded Russian engineer’s expression grim. “The supply ferries arrived. We’re still short seven hundred metric tons of steel.”
“Two more supply ships will launch on the tenth.”
“This does me little good now.”
“What about mining operations on the two moons?”
“Deimos is yielding water and organic compounds. Phobos appears to be a hollow mass of iron, we’ve destroyed three drills attempting to excavate its surface. There is some potential good news. One of our tomography satellites detected a vein of metallic ore approximately 220 meters below the surface of the Vastitas Borealis basin. If usable, there should be more than enough to complete the third biodome.”
Lilith accesses a map of Mars on her monitor, quickly locating the basin. “The area’s not volcanic, it used to be a primordial sea. How could—”
Devlin bursts into her office, the teen’s pale cheeks flushed, his blood-vessel-laced eyes wide with excitement. “Did you feel it? There’s a disturbance in the higher realms.”
“What sort of disturbance? Has Immanuel finally entered the Nexus?”
“It’s not Immanuel, it’s Jacob. His light is filtering down from the Upper Worlds.”
4
Dreams that you gather, until the day that you are taken from the Earth. Dreams are the substance of the heavenly juice, the heavenly dew; the yellow flower from heaven is dream. Perchance have I taken from you your time, have I taken from you your sustenance?
—CHILAM BALAM, THE BOOK OF THE ENIGMAS
Midnight
Waiting for Lag b’Omer to arrive, Immanuel had dozed off. Now, as a wave of energy zaps his brain like a neurological tuning fork, he opens his eyes to an ebony sky seasoned with a billion stars: a tapestry of glittering perfection—spoiled by a cosmic fissure. Dividing the heavens like a celestial spinal cord, the dark zigzagging rift bulges with sporadic cloudlike clusters, each cosmic vortex representing a million suns.
So bewitched is Immanuel Gabriel by the Milky Way’s galactic womb that several moments pass before he realizes he is no longer buried. He looks around, baffled. There is no hole. No cave. He is lying on the ground, his groin covered by a breechcloth made of cotton. Sitting up, he discovers that his chest hurts and his right shoulder burns and his hands are covered in blood.<
br />
“Beck? Kurtz?”
He stands in the clearing surrounded by a dense forest and hears heavy breathing. In the darkness revealed by a waxing moon rising above the jungle canopy, he sees the jaguar. A big male, it is on its side panting blood, the hilt of an obsidian dagger protruding from its heaving chest. One of its front paws is cleaved with blood, its sharp claws matching the four dripping track marks oozing from Manny’s wounded shoulder.
The forest rustles.
He drops to his knees by the dying beast and yanks the blade free, releasing a tortured growl and a reflexive upward twist of the wounded predator’s head.
The big cat’s heart ceases beating before gravity returns its skull to the hard limestone earth.
Weak, Manny staggers into a defensive crouch and waits.
The Spanish conquistadors seep out of the jungle. White men and facial hair and fire sticks that spit out hot insects. The blood drains from his face. The heavens spin and the forest swoons and his body folds beneath him, his glazing eyes staring up at the dark canyon splitting the midnight sky.
Daylight burns red behind his closed eyelids. He opens them to morning streaming in from a rectangular hole set high in the straw and mud hut.
“Balam?”
The female native lying on his chest looks up at him through dark brown pools, her raven hair wild and unkempt. She is naked, her warm brown skin sepia … like his.
“Another vision?” She speaks in the Nahuatl language of the Toltec and somehow he can understand her—his brainwaves tracking his shifting consciousness, completing the transformation of his altered identity.
He is Chilam Balam.
He is the Jaguar Prophet.
Communicating in her native tongue, he responds to his soul mate’s question. “I saw the bearded white man.”
“The great teacher returns?”
“No, Blood Woman.” He slides out from beneath her, his body void of the wounds from his dream. “The bearded white ones are invaders. On one Imix they shall arrive by sea from the east bearing a symbol of their god. By violence and death they shall introduce their new religion.”