The Mayan Resurrection (39 page)

‘Sort of like you, Lilith, darlin’,’ Ben says, drawing another lungful of smoke.

The bull shark circles twice, darts toward the boat, then turns at the last second.

Virgil’s eyes widen, snot running down both nostrils.

‘Why won’t he attack?’ Ben asks.

‘He will,’ Lilith answers, spellbound in the moment. ‘He just wants to be sure. It’s always best to be sure before you strike.’

‘We can learn so much from sharks. Such fine predators.’

‘Yes, nature is the perfect teacher.’

The boat rises and dips, submerging Virgil to his neck.

A serene Lilith watches the nine-foot bull shark bury its snout into its screeching meal, the animal’s serrated teeth tearing apart flesh and intestines within a shroud of scarlet foam—

—eviscerating the life from her father.

NOVEMBER 21, 2033: UNIVERSITY OF MIAMI
FOOTBALL PRACTICE FIELD, CORAL GABLES, FLORIDA

K. C. Renner lines the first-team offense up at the twenty yard line, scans the alignment of the ‘Canes’ second-string defense, then barks out signals: ‘Blue—twenty-six, blue-twenty-six … hut, hut … hut!’

The ball is snapped. K. C. fakes the handoff to his fullback, then tosses a short pass to Samuel Agler, who has released from his block and is rolling left out of the backfield.

Sam catches the pass—

—and is immediately hit by Alec Parodi, a reserve outside linebacker for a three-yard loss.

Coach Demaio kicks at the turf, then blows his whistle. ‘Mule, with me!’

Twenty-one pairs of eyes follow the star tailback as he jogs over to the sidelines.

‘Yeah, Coach?’

‘You hurt, son?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Girl troubles?’

‘No, Coach. Why?’

‘Something’s gotta be wrong, because you’re not running like the Mule I know.’

‘Coach, I’m giving one hundred percent. Parodi just made a nice play.’

‘Parodi couldn’t tackle you in the open field on his best day.’ DeMaio lowers his voice. ‘Look, I’ve heard rumors. If this is a money thing?’

‘Coach, I swear—’

‘Okay, okay, I had to ask. It’s just that I’m worried about you. We’ve got a huge game in two weeks in Gainesville, then the first round of the January Jubilee. I need to know my best player is ready.’

‘I’m ready.’

‘Hell, son, show me, don’t tell me. Coach Lavoie, line ’em up again.’

‘Yes, coach.’ Offensive coordinator Mike Lavoie yells at the two squads. ‘Okay, girls, get your asses in gear!’

K. C. Renner buckles his chin strap, listening as Lavoie’s computer communicates the same play.

Sam lines up in the backfield behind fullback Doug Parrish. He focuses his mind inward, his adrenaline pumping, as he beckons the entrance to the ‘zone.’

Renner takes the snap. Fakes the handoff to Parrish.

Sam slips inside the nexus.

The field brightens, the action grinding to a slow crawl.

Sam’s quadriceps burn as he pushes through heavy waves of energy. He blocks the blitzing strong safety, pancaking him with vicious forearm to the chest, then looks up as Renner’s pass floats toward him like a balloon.

As he looks up, the sun melds into a soothing white light.

Who are you, cousin?

The female’s voice coos at him.

Slip inside the light and speak with me.

The light brightens as it widens, blotting out the football, blotting out the entire sky.

Sam leaps out of the nexus—

—as the ball strikes him on his helmet, and Alec Parodi crushes him with a bulldozing hit.

A whiff of ammonia snaps Sam back into consciousness. He opens his eyes, the team doctor’s face appearing fuzzy.

‘You okay, son?’

‘Dunno. My head still attached?’

‘Let’s get a quick scan of your brain.’ Dr. Meth slips the portable MRI device right over Sam’s helmet. ‘Don’t move, this’ll only take ten seconds.’

The device activates, scanning Sam’s brain.

‘That’s it, son, you’re done.’ Dr. Meth and his two assistants help him to his feet.

Coaches and players watch in accusing silence as Sam limps off to the locker room.

Three hours, a shower, and seven interviews later, Samuel Agler emerges from the air-conditioned training facility into the cool dusk November air.

He motions for the guard to open the gate, then pushes through the usual postpractice crowd. He signs a dozen portopads, then sees the black government-issue limousine parked along the sidewalk.

Fubish … of all days.

The driver’s door opens, releasing a powerful African-American man.

Sam crosses the street, the crowd still enveloping him, shoving porto-pads in his face.

Ryan Beck approaches. ‘Back off!’

The crowd scurries.

‘Hey, Pep. Still have that gift of gab, I see. How you doin’?’

‘Just doin’. You look like shit.’ Beck opens the rear door.

‘Yeah, nice to see you, too.’ Sam climbs in back. The door closes behind him as he takes his place opposite his mother.

Dominique Gabriel removes her dark, wraparound sunglasses. Although she is forty-nine, most would place her age closer to thirty. The ebony hair is still long and parted in the middle, with a touch of gray sprinkled here and there. The
breasts are firm, her figure still flawless, thanks to a strict diet and daily regimen of weight training and cardiovascular exercise. The only signs of aging are the crow’s-feet that litter the corners of her chocolate-brown eyes.

Sam looks her over. ‘You look good for an old broad.’

‘Is that how you greet your mother?’

He leans over and dutifully plants a kiss on her cheek. ‘I wasn’t expecting you. You know I don’t like surprises.’

‘You look tired, Manny.’

‘Sam! Call me Sam.’

‘To me, you’ll always be my Manny.’

‘Can we cut to the chase?’

‘Your brother wants to see you.’

‘Forget it. We had an agreement.’

‘Yes we did. You wanted total anonymity, we gave it to you. A new name, a new identity, surrogate parents … you got the works. But what you’re doing now is extremely dangerous. Instead of living out of the public eye, you’ve dashed back into the spotlight. Your face is on every website and public broadcast in North America. How long do you think it’ll be before some hotshot reporter sees through the tinkered files and false birth certificate and figures out who you really are?’

‘Immanuel Gabriel is dead, mother. He drowned six years ago. No one will put two and two together.’

‘Jacob thinks otherwise, and that’s why he needs to see you.’

‘Jacob’s a freak.’

The slap in the face stuns him, sending shock waves
through his already bruised brain. ‘That freak, as you call him, gave you a new life. If it wasn’t for your brother, you’d still be living in the compound … or worse.’

‘How long are you going to keep this charade up, Mother? You’ve been giving in to Jacob our whole lives.’

‘I don’t give in to him.’

‘No, you’ve done worse. You’ve empowered him by believing in this whole Mayan Hero bullshit. Look at you. When are you going to get on with your own life?’

‘I have a life!’

‘Yeah, sure you do. I have a life. You work for Jacob.’ He shakes his head. ‘Just tell me how long.’

‘A few days. He says he needs to discuss things that only you would understand.’

‘God dammit, Mother, for the last time, I am NOT Hunahpu!’ He closes his eyes, fighting back tears of frustration. ‘The two of you are not part of my life anymore. You don’t know a thing about me. I’ve worked my ass off … I trained for years. I take a beating every time I step out onto that field. I am not like …
him
.’

‘You’re right. As cold and emotionless as Jake can be, he’s selfless. You’re driven by ego.’

‘Good-bye.’ He slides toward the door.

‘Wait!’ Dominique grabs his arm. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.’

‘Yes you did.’

‘Manny, I
am
really proud of you. Proud of what you’ve accomplished in school. Proud of the life you’ve been able to lead. And
I like everything I’ve heard about Lauren. I think she’s good for you. Will you at least introduce us before you get married.’

‘Not a chance.’

She smiles. ‘You’re so much like me. Stubborn as a mule.’

He cracks a half smile at the mention of his nickname. Checks the digital timer sewn into his shirtsleeve. ‘I have to go. I’m having dinner at my father’s house.’

‘Surrogate father.’

‘Whatever.’

‘I’ll pick you up here tomorrow morning at nine. Pack an overnight bag.’

‘I’m supposed to spend the holidays with Lauren’s family.’

‘Get out of it. She’ll understand.’

‘No she won’t. I don’t even understand. What am I supposed to tell her?’

‘You’ll think of something.’

‘Can’t we do this another time?’

‘No, it has to be now.’

‘Why?’

‘Tomorrow morning, Immanuel. After that, I’ll be out of your hair forever.’

He exits the car without saying another word.

Jacob Gabriel had always ‘sensed’ there were enemies about, ever since the day he had learned to read the Bible Code, ever since his first remote-viewing session. But it was not until his last communication with his father that he realized how close he had allowed his true enemy to come.

He had always known Lilith was Hunahpu, his genetic cousin and equal. He had never suspected her to be the Abomination.

Jacob knew there were only two ways to stop the Hunahpu’s pursuit; either kill his one true love or convince her that he and Manny were dead.

Faking his brother’s drowning had been a simple matter. The collision on the bridge was easily choreographed, the black hair dye and contact lenses easily fooling the media into believing it was Manny who was the victim. Jacob’s immersion into the nexus stifled his life signs long enough to convince CNN and the randomly chosen witnesses.

His own death had been a bit trickier to choreograph.

Jacob knew that Pierre Borgia was out for revenge and that his own public appearance would flush his quarry into the open. What he didn’t know was that Ennis Chaney was the former secretary of state’s real target, or that Lilith would show up at Manny’s funeral. Fortunately, the nexus had given him a chance to intercept the bullet, his Kevlar nanofiber body armor absorbing the projectile’s impact, the explosive blood bags hidden beneath his jacket fooling everyone, even Rabbi Steinberg and the physician, who were in on the plot.

Even Lilith.

With both twins safely ‘dead,’ Jacob could pursue more advanced training with GOLDEN FLEECE while Manny disappeared into the anonymity he had always yearned for.

Rabbi Steinberg was close to a young couple from his old congregation in Philadelphia. Gene and Sylvia Agler were good people who had never been blessed with children. After several
meetings, they agreed to ‘adopt’ Immanuel and adhere to the strict guidelines of the covert arrangement.

GOLDEN FLEECE arranged the falsified birth certificate and school records, their operatives creating a completely fabricated childhood, down to sports awards and home movies. Gene Agler was given a principal’s job in another state, the couple a new home.

The burden was then on Dominique. Having already lost her soul mate, Mick, she was now being asked to break apart the rest of her family.

And so she made the ultimate sacrifice so that Manny could be free.