The Mayan Resurrection

by Steve Alten

  ‘But still—’

  ‘But nothing. The challenge of the Bible Code is that you have to know the specific words or phrase you’re searching for in order to establish whether a pattern exists or not. Now confess, how did you really know what to look for?’

  ‘I didn’t. Certain letters just sort of jumped out at me.’

  Rabbi Steinberg feels the blood drain from his face. If he can really look at the text and recognize patterns, then … my God.

  ‘Teach me to read Hebrew, Uncle Rich. Teach me now.’

  9

  OCTOBER 10, 2020: BELLE GLADE, FLORIDA

  Don’t get me wrong, Reverend Morehead, your granddaughter is a remarkably gifted child—’

  ‘Foster granddaughter,’ corrects the minister.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ The guidance counselor makes a mental note. ‘Lilith tested as the brightest girl in her class, perhaps the entire school.’

  ‘Then why she gettin’ all Cs and Ds?’

  ‘In my opinion, it’s low self-esteem. On the second day of school, she locked herself in the bathroom for almost an hour after a teacher’s aide yelled at her for talking.’

  ‘Yeah, she’s always talking. Yap yap yap yap yap.’

  ‘Lilith’s teacher noticed bruises on the back of her legs. Do you know how she got these welts?’

  ‘How would I know? You know kids … always falling from trees, climbing over fences. Uh … what did Lilith say?’

  ‘She said Chester kicked her.’

  ‘Chester? Who’s that?’

  ‘We don’t know. There’s no boy named Chester in our school. But Mrs. Walker noticed Lilith at recess, talking to an imaginary friend named Brandy.’

  Quenton grinds his teeth.

  ‘You don’t seem surprised?’

  ‘The girl’s mother, she suffered from similar, uh, delusions. Leave it to me, I’ll handle it.’

  ‘Reverend, if this is some form of mental illness, then Lilith should really be seen by a professional.’

  ‘Believe me, ma’am, when it comes to this, I am a professional.’

  Longboat Key, Florida

  Immanuel Gabriel stares hard at his brother’s computer screen, the rows of Hebrew letters blurring in his vision. ‘I still can’t see any patterns.’

  ‘They’re there,’ Jacob says, smugly. ‘I bet there’s a million warnings encoded throughout the Bible. References to the dinosaurs and extinctions, Martin Luther King and the Kennedys, wars in the Middle East, the World Trade Center, the 2008 Ebola outbreak—’

  ‘Shut up.’ The dark-haired twin covers his ears. ‘I keep telling you, I don’t care.’

  ‘You’d better care. I came across our names, too.’ Jacob advances the text to another page where series of letters are highlighted like a crossword puzzle. ‘Going across, this says Gabriel Twins. See these intersecting letters going down? That means Time Tunnel.’

  ‘Time tunnel?’

  ‘It’s the Bible’s word for wormhole. It’s how we’ll travel to Xibalba.’

  Immanuel shakes his head. ‘I’m not going to Xibalba.’

  ‘Yes you are.’

  ‘No I’m not.’

  ‘It’s our destiny, Manny.’ His eyes widen. ‘It’s in our blood … the End of Days!’

  ‘Maybe your freaky blood, not mine.’

  ‘The Hunahpu gene is in your blood, too, shit-for-brains, and I can prove it. I discovered a place, a place in my mind where everything slows down. It’s like a higher dimension.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘I’m serious. Our Hunahpu DNA gives us special abilities. By focusing our thoughts inward, we can actually tap into this higher realm.’

  ‘You’re making this up.’

  ‘Am not.’

  Immanuel is frightened but curious. ‘Okay, tell me what it’s like.’

  ‘It was weird, but really cool. Everything around me sort of slowed down. But inside my head I felt, I don’t know … it was like I was more in control. I could do things, see in every direction all at once, control my body in different ways. I could slow down my heart, or even follow blood cells as they moved through my veins. It was like having another sense, one that lets you see inside yourself. The only thing is, you can’t stay in too long, or all this lactic acid starts building up in your muscles. I think it’s because your mind’s in the nexus, but your body’s still in the third dimension, and it’s moving extra fast.’

  ‘The nexus?’

  ‘That’s what I call it.’

  ‘Teach me how to do it.’

  ‘Come on.’

  Manny follows Jacob outside to the fifty-meter pool.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Teaching you the way I learned, by holding my breath. Happens best when you’re frightened, when the adrenaline really kicks in.’ Jacob strips down to his shorts. ‘Swim down to the bottom and hold on to the ladder. Then close your eyes and look for a white pinpoint of light. When you see it, focus on it but don’t go in. The light will grow bigger, and then everything will just slow down. You’ll be able to tell ’cause your lungs won’t hurt anymore from holding your breath. Just remember, see the white light but don’t slip inside its warmth.’

  ‘Why can’t I go inside?’

  ‘Just don’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I think it might be a higher dimension.’

  ‘Have you done it yet?’

  ‘Not yet, but I will one day.’

  ‘Are you afraid to do it?’

  ‘I’ll do it when I’m ready. You just focus on getting in the nexus.’

  ‘If I make it inside, how do I get out?’

  ‘Just say to yourself, I want out, and you’re out.’

  ‘What if I forget and drown?’

  ‘You won’t drown. Once you begin running out of air, your hands will let go of the ladder, and you’ll float to the surface. That’s what always happens to me. Every time I try to stay under, my body lets go and the nexus tosses me out.’

  The dark-haired twin stares at the bottom of the pool. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Come on, Manny, stop being such a baby.’

  Immanuel strips to his underwear and climbs down the aluminum ladder into the pool, the cool water giving him the shakes. ‘It’s cold.’

  ‘It’s warmer in the nexus. Now take a deep breath and go under.’

  Immanuel takes a gulp of air and ducks underwater, working his way below using the ladder. Gripping the bottom rung, he closes his eyes.

  Blackness.

  His heart pounds in his ears.

  His lungs burn.

  Immanuel releases the rung and kicks to the surface, exhaling as his head breaks water. ‘You are such a goddam liar. I swear, I don’t know why I let you talk me into these things.’

  ‘I wasn’t lying—’

  ‘Shut up!’ Immanuel climbs out of the pool, shivering. ‘I’m going inside.’

  Jacob grabs his arm, then points to the digital clock on the pool house wall. ‘It’s 2:04, right? Watch and learn.’ Without waiting for a reply, he dives in, kicking to the bottom.

  Immanuel sees his brother wrap the crook of his left arm around the lowest ladder rung. Crazy freak.

  Jacob steadies himself. Closes his eyes. Loses his thoughts in the blackness behind his eyelids.

  In his mind’s eye, he is sliding down his larynx, racing through a bronchial tube into his right lung. He follows a bronchi branch into one of the smaller bronchioles until his mind dead-ends at a harvest of grapelike alveoli clusters, each tiny sac containing molecules of air. Like a honeybee he taps into each one, drawing minuscule breaths, which he redirects into his oxygen-starving brain.

  The constriction in his chest eases. The pinpoint of light appears, its warmth increasing as it expands.

  Okay, I can do this … I can do this …

  Jacob Gabriel’s mind slips inside the bright hole, his soul bathing in its warmth.

  Then he sees the shadow.

  Immanuel looks
up at the clock. Almost three minutes … A tingling as his bladder tightens. What do I do? What if he drowns? He focuses on his brother’s face. Sees the melancholy smile. Geez … he’s really doing it.

  Beyond the haze is a lithe figure, floating along the periphery. Jacob’s mind reaches out to communicate: Hello?

  Who’s out there? A girl’s voice. Frightened.

  Don’t be scared. My name’s Jacob. Who are you?

  Lilith. Where are we?

  It’s a special place I call the nexus. How did you find it?

  Brandy taught me. She told me to hide in here.

  Why are you hiding?

  I … I can’t tell. Quenton will get angry.

  Who’s Quenton?

  My grandpa. He says I’m a heathen. Says my soul needs to be cleansed.

  Lilith, I have to go.

  Wait! Please don’t go, I get so … lonely.

  I have to go, but we can talk again.

  Really? Will you be my friend, Jacob?

  Of course, but now I have to go.

  The digital display advances—2:11.

  Immanuel Gabriel is on the verge of panic. He is about to leap into the pool when he sees Jacob’s fingers loosen their grip on the ladder rung.

  The white-haired twin floats to the surface, then suddenly snaps awake. His head breaks the water, his azure-blue eyes searching for the digital clock. ‘Seven minutes. Convinced now?’

  Immanuel shakes his head. ‘I can’t do that. I’m not like you.’

  ‘Yes you are.’ Jacob climbs out of the pool, his eyes catching sight of a passenger jet as it streaks north across the afternoon sky.

  ZAP!

  White light … presidential seal … the interior cabin of a private plane … Ennis Chaney at his desk … the open cockpit door … a man in uniform at the controls … an identification badge … a glint of steel … blood splatters the control panel … nosedive … a sickening descent … bursting into flames …

  ZAP!

  ‘Jake … hey Jake, wake up!’

  Jacob opens his eyes. He is on his back, lying on the pool deck. He sits up, confused. Looks at his brother. ‘What happened?’

  ‘You fainted, dickhead. Serves you right for staying under so long.’

  ‘No … it wasn’t that. I had a vision.’

  ‘What kind of vision?’

  ‘A plane crash. I think it was Air Force One.’

  ‘You’re such a freak.’ Immanuel heads back toward the house.

  ‘Manny, wait—’ Jacob hurries after his brother. ‘That never happened to me before. It must have something to do with the light. I entered the light for the first time. The vision just latched on to me!’

  ‘Leave me alone!’ The thermoimager above the rear security door tracks the dark-haired twin as he approaches. Positively identifying Immanuel, the system opens the sliding bulletproof doors.

  Immanuel enters the kitchen, Jacob right behind him.

  ‘You can’t ignore this, Manny, you’re my twin. At some point, these things will happen to you, too.’

  ‘Shut up—’

  ‘We have to be ready. Years from now you and me are going to leave this world and—’

  ‘I said, shut up!’ Immanuel races through the hallway and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘It’s our destiny, Manny!’ Jacob presses his face to the closed door. ‘If you’re too much of a wuss to go, maybe I’ll go with Lilith!’

  ‘Jacob Gabriel!’ Dominique grabs her son by the arm, dragging him away from his brother’s door. ‘What did I tell you about teasing Manny?’

  ‘I wasn’t teasing.’

  ‘Go to your room.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I have to call Uncle Ennis. I have to warn him—’

  ‘Young man, you’re grounded!’ She drags him into his bedroom. ‘You stay in there until I say you can come out.’ Dominique slams his door shut, then knocks on Immanuel’s door. ‘Manny? Manny, sweetheart, you okay?’

  Hearing the sobs, she enters.

  In a corner of his bedroom, Immanuel Gabriel sits on the floor, pulling out clumps of his dark black hair.

  Belle Glade, Florida

  ‘… Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle, be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil—’

  Lilith Robinson opens her azure-blue eyes. She is no longer in the nexus. She is lying on the cot, naked, her slender wrists and ankles bound by plastic cords.

  Quenton stands over her, Bible in one hand, cross in the other, his white minister’s outfit lathered in sweat as he verbally assaults the girl with more fire and brimstone.

  ‘… we pray the God of Peace will crush Satan beneath our feet, so that he may no longer retain men captive and do injury to the Church. Offer our prayers to the Most High, that without delay they may draw His mercy down upon us—’

  Brandy is at the back window, mimicking Quenton behind his back.

  Lilith giggles.

  The minister’s eyes widen. He slaps the girl across the face, then sprinkles her with Holy Water. ‘Take hold of the Dragon, the old serpent, which is the Devil and Satan. Bind him and cast him into the bottomless pit, that he may no longer seduce the nations!’

  Lilith closes her eyes, her body trembling.

  10

  OCTOBER 11, 2020: MABUS ESTATE, THE HAMPTONS, NEW YORK

  It is America’s hottest summer playground, a coastal resort occupied by palatial beach homes owned by the rich and famous.

  Peter Mabus stands in his bathrobe on the deserted stretch of private beach, staring at the pounding ocean of autumn as a gray dawn breaks over the eastern horizon. The last few years have taken their toll on the once robust entrepreneur. Following the landslide loss to Ennis Chaney in the presidential election, his wife of thirty years filed divorce papers after catching him in a hotel suite with two of his secretaries. Chaney’s new anti-fossil-fuel initiatives are costing him tens of millions of dollars, and his religious-based political party is under investigation for tax evasion.

  ‘Hey, Dad!’

  Mabus sees his son, Lucien, waving from the boardwalk. ‘Someone here to see you.’

  Mabus signals for his guest to approach.

  Solomon Adashek makes his way over the private boardwalk and past the tall sea grass to the beach. ‘Good morning.’

  ‘I see nothing good about it. I hired you to do a job, Mr. Adashek. Why hasn’t the job been finished?’

  ‘You hired me to terminate the most closely guarded figure in the world. These things take time. However, my operative is now in position to complete the task at hand.’

  ‘When will it happen?’

  ‘Today. Our friend should be dead in time for the noonday news.’

  The White House, Washington, DC 9:02 a.m.

  Ennis Chaney looks up from behind his desk, swallowing the rest of his pickled egg lunch as his secretary escorts the rabbi and a woman with bright orange-red hair into the Oval Office.

  ‘Rabbi Steinberg. Nice to see you again. Been what … a year?’

  ‘Two. We were together at the twins’ fifth birthday party.’

  ‘Sorry I missed the last few. Been busy campaigning for my vice president. Wish we could talk, but I leave for Detroit in ten minutes. Next time call ahead and make an appointment.’

  The rabbi casts a worried look at the redhead.

  ‘Now what’s so damn important you had to fly up to Washington instead of using the video-com?’

  ‘Your assassination.’

  For a moment, Chaney’s raccoon eyes narrow, then the president rasps out a laugh. ‘Is that all? Hell, I’ve received more death threats than the FBI can count.’

  ‘Mr. President, this is Kimberly Ward, a professor at Washington College. Her background is in parapsychology.’

  ‘I deal with paranormal phenomena, Mr. President.’