The Mayan Resurrection (30 page)

Dominique covers her mouth in shock. ‘Communicating how?’

‘Through a higher plane of quantum existence we call the nexus.’

‘She’s Hunahpu?’

‘Yes. And yes, she’s the Abomination, at least she may be someday.’

Dominique feels the blood drain from her face. ‘All these years … all my warnings, all Evelyn’s warnings, and you’ve been communicating with the very person who tortures your father, who might destroy us all. How could you, of all people, be so blind?’

‘Love is blind.’

‘Love? You love this … this thing?’

‘She’s not a
thing
, Mother, she’s a human being born in a hurricane. She comes from a broken home, she’s been abused physically and sexually. She needed my help, and I was there. She’s a child of God as much as you or I.’

‘And now she’s a dangerous child. She murdered Evelyn.’

‘She’s angry at me. She’s become psychotic.’

‘I’d say she passed psychotic. Now what are we supposed to do?’

He paces along a dune, his mind racing. ‘Lilith knows where we live and who we are. We can run now, but she’s growing stronger every day. Eventually she’ll have no trouble
tracking me down using her Hunahpu abilities. She also has at least one ally,—who’s—also Hunahpu.’

‘We have allies, too. We’ll send Salt and Pepper after her.’

‘We can’t do that. Lilith’s presence in the near future is entwined around mankind’s survival. If we derail her now, we’ll upset an entire chain of events. The key is to avoid her until Manny and I leave for
Xibalba.
’

‘You know where
Xibalba
is?’

He points to the heavens. ‘Somewhere out there. According to the Mayan prophecy, Manny and I won’t travel to
Xibalba
until our twentieth year. Avoiding Lilith for six years will be next to impossible, unless …’ His eyes widen as another option takes shape within in his mind.

Lilith Eve Robinson sits at the kitchen table weeping, her tears aided by the irritation of the soap.

Detective Teak Colson hands her a tissue. ‘I know you’re upset, but I need to ask you a few more questions. You say you came home around eleven?’

‘Yes, sir. I was visiting my uncle at his hotel. My grandfather was lying on his bed when I got here.’

‘Did you ever see your grandfather use drugs?’

‘He … he pops these pills. Said it was for his arthritis.’

‘According to the coroner, those pills were Oxycontin. Coroner found about six hundred milligrams of the stuff in him,
and it was all chewed up. Oxycontin is a time-released drug, it was made to swallow whole. Chew it up and you release toxic amounts of the drug.’

‘Oh my God… . He should have known that, right?’

‘I think he did. I think your grandfather committed suicide.’

‘No … he was murdered. Look at those wounds? How do you explain the blood loss?’

‘Self-inflicted. With all that painkiller in him, he probably never felt a thing. Did you know he changed his Will?’

‘I didn’t even know he had a Will.’

‘Changed it yesterday. Fits the suicide pattern. This whole thing was premeditated. His lawyer will be speaking with you later this afternoon.’ Colson checks his notes. ‘Now this uncle of yours—Don Rafelo. I’m going to need his statement.’

‘Of course.’

Colson looks over her shoulder, his expression darkening. ‘Oh, hell—’ He hurries into the living room to the television.

The scene is live, broadcast from a news chopper hovering over the Gandy Bridge in Tampa. Rescue boats are circling, divers are in the water.

Colson turns up the sound.

‘…
the former president’s limousine was struck as it approached the construction area of the bridge. The vehicle crashed through the temporary barricade and into the bay.’

The scene zooms in on a Coast Guard rescue boat.

‘Jennie, Brian Bahder here. We’ve just received word that former president Ennis Chaney and the driver of the vehicle have been rescued. Both men are now aboard the Coast Guard rescue boat in stable condition.’

‘Brian, what about the missing Gabriel twin?’

Lilith kneels by the screen, her heart racing.
Please not Jacob …

‘Divers are still searching, but I have to tell you, it doesn’t look good. Eyewitnesses report the limo sank at least ten minutes ago.’

‘For those of you just joining us, you’re looking at a live telecast over the Gandy Bridge where a limousine transporting former president Ennis Chaney and one of his godsons was struck by a hit-and-run driver as it was heading east into Tampa. Chaney and his driver have been rescued, but the unidentified Gabriel twin is still missing.’

‘Jennie, from what we understand, Tampa Bay Buccaneers owners Dan and Linda Broersma, had invited Chaney and his godson to watch this afternoon’s football game—’

‘Stand by, Jennie, it looks like divers have surfaced.’

The camera angle changes, zooming in on the stern of the Coast Guard rescue boat where a body is being lifted out of the water.

Lilith holds her breath as the carcass, supported by a team of divers, breaks the surface.

It is the dark-haired twin, Immanuel.

For one more terrible moment in man’s history, the world seemed to stop spinning.

Over the years, stories about the Gabriel twins had grown to almost legendary proportions. News of Immanuel’s demise stunned the public as much as the deaths of John Lennon, Princess Diana, or John F. Kennedy, Jr.. But it was in Mesoamerica where the Mayan Indians had worshiped the teens as living deities that the news was hardest to swallow.

Riots broke out in Central America. Zealots took nosedives off pyramids. Schools and businesses closed. People wept openly in the streets. Back in the States, news journalists stormed the gates of the Gabriel compound by the hundreds, forcing the military to shut down access bridges leading into Longboat Key.

What the public wanted was information, what the media insisted upon was proof. They demanded to examine the body, which had been transported back to the compound to be readied for burial.

In her grief, Dominique finally relented, knowing there
would be no peace without verification. A team of physicians were allowed to enter the Gabriel compound, along with a CNN film crew and two witnesses drawn from a lottery.

The morbid event was telecast around the world.

After thirty minutes, a heavily sedated Dominique could handle no more. Everyone but Ennis Chaney and the immediate family were banned from the compound.

The former president spoke to the world later that evening, providing sparse details about the hit-and-run, saying only that Immanuel’s body would be cremated. A public mass and international day of mourning was scheduled for Monday in Washington, DC.

The unmarked police car enters the lot of the Belle Glade Breakers Motel and parks. Lilith gets out of the passenger side and knocks on the door of Room 113. ‘Open up, Uncle Don, it’s me—Lilith.’

Detective Colson joins her at the door. ‘Do you have a key?’

‘Yes.’ She slips the magnetic key in the lock and opens the door.

The room is empty.

‘So? Where is he?’

‘I … I don’t know. He was supposed to meet me here this evening.’

‘Anyone at the front desk ever meet this uncle of yours?’

‘No. I paid for the room. His English isn’t too good.’

Colson searches the chest of drawers. Looks under the bed. Checks the bathroom. Finds nothing.

‘Looks like he took off on you. What was his relationship with your grandfather?’

‘I … I don’t know? But if you’re thinking … Detective, I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Please don’t jump to any conclusions.’

‘Here’s my card. I want you to wait here and call me the moment he comes back. Meanwhile, I’m going to contact someone from Family Services. If your uncle doesn’t show up by tonight, you’ll go with them.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Colson leaves. Lilith locks the door behind him.

‘Bastard.’

She spins around, shocked to find Don Rafelo lying spread-eagle on the bed.

‘Don’t worry, I put the evil eye on him.’

‘Where were you? How did you get …’ The sudden realization shocks her, dropping her to her knees. ‘No … you’re … you’re not real, are you?’

His smile reveals diseased gums. ‘Of course I’m real. Thoughts are real, aren’t they?’

‘But—’

‘The power of the Succubus is real.’

‘But you’re just in my mind. You’re not really here. Not in the physical sense.’

He sits up and leans in close, and she can smell his foul old man’s breath. ‘Real is what the mind can conceive and believe. Thoughts are things. Your thought energy is as real as mine.’

Lilith swoons. ‘Those boys you killed—’

‘You mean, the ones
you
killed. And the old woman.’

‘And Quenton?’

‘Of course. I instructed you, gave you confidence, but it was you who did the deed. And now there’s more to be done, before we travel to Mexico.’

‘Jacob?’

Don Rafelo nods. ‘He’ll be in Washington for the memorial service. Security will be tight, but he’ll be out in the open, where we can reach him through the nexus.’

‘He doesn’t want to see me anymore.’

‘Jacob’s value is in his seed. Your union will be the first of two nearly pure Hunahpu. Your child, Lilith, shall be a god.’

Towering 555 feet high, the alabaster marble obelisk known as the Washington Monument is located at the east end of Potomac Park, approximately one mile west of the Capitol Building. At the very top of this hollow structure is an observation room, affording visitors a magnificent view of the park’s reflecting pool, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, the 9-11 wall, the Middle East War Memorial, and the Lincoln Memorial.

The Lincoln Memorial is constructed of thirty-six columns—the number of states in the Union at the time of Lincoln’s death in 1865. Situated within the massive enclosure is sculptor Daniel Chester French’s giant stone-carving honoring the sixteenth president of the United States.

Ennis Chaney, the forty-sixth president of the United States, listens to Rabbi Steinberg’s opening invocation as he looks out
upon a vast sea of bodies gathered around the Memorial and the park’s long rectangular reflecting pool. Network hover-cams dot the gray winter sky, each suspended in its preapproved flight pattern. Security cams dart in and about, scanning the crowd, who have already been searched for weapons. Congressmen and visiting dignitaries are seated along the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Several dab at their eyes, though few are actually crying.

Seated on one side of the former president is President Marion Rallo. Jacob Gabriel is on Chaney’s left side, the white-haired teen wearing a black suit and tie and dark, tinted, wraparound shades.

Concealed in an opaque envelope in the teen’s left hand is a photo of former secretary of state Pierre Borgia.

The crowd bows their heads as Rabbi Steinberg completes the invocation with a prayer.

At the east end of the park, Pierre Robert Borgia, dressed in a black SWAT team uniform, enters the Washington Monument. He flashes his false identification badge to the two armed guards, then allows them to scan his new false eye and fake retinal implant.

‘You’re clear to go on up, sir.’

‘Thank you.’

Concealed within Borgia’s backpack is the Barrett M101-A .50-caliber Browning sniper rifle and bipod. Waving to the guards, he takes the elevator up to the observation deck, which is to remain closed until after the ceremony.

*

Ennis Chaney follows President Rallo at the podium. A harsh winter’s wind causes him to shiver, despite the heavy lining of his dress coat and undergarments. He touches his right ear, repositioning the dime-sized communication device.

‘Distinguished guests, members of Congress, my fellow Americans, my fellow citizens of the world: It’s not easy to have faith. It’s not easy in this, the twenty-first century, nor was it easy in the first century, when our ancient ancestors looked up at the stars and wondered, “Where do we come from? What is this life all about?”’

Chaney’s eyes are dancing now, moving to the rhythm of his words.

‘We need faith. Faith that is not predicated on fantasy. And yet we, as educated and sophisticated caring souls, must rely on faith to get us through times of confusion, times of pain and suffering …’