The Mayan Apocalypse

by Mark Hitchcock

  “It isn’t right to keep this secret. I need to write a story…maybe call some television people—”

  “What would that achieve? Panic. Nothing more. What would billions of people do? I can’t stop you from telling others, but I don’t advise it. Since this has been kept secret, governments must have conspired to keep it under wraps.”

  “I know how to fix that.”

  Morgan leaned over the table. “Do you? Really?”

  “I’m a reporter. I know how to tell a story.”

  Lisa saw the hurt on Morgan’s face. “How long will it take you to gather information? You don’t have the time. Even if you did, they wouldn’t let you get very far.”

  “They? They who?”

  “The government would not allow you to cause a panic. Nothing can be done to protect billions of people. All you could do is alert them to their coming demise. Do you want to do that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Morgan again reached across the table and took Lisa’s hand. “I’ve struggled with this. I understand the shock you feel.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Quetzal. He keeps us posted on the Hammer of God and other… things.”

  Lisa felt cold.

  “Let me tell you the rest.”

  “There’s more?”

  “Come with me.”

  “Where?”

  “I can’t tell you until you agree to join me. Quetzal has made arrangements. I can bring one person with me. I want you to be that person.”

  Lisa shook her head and pulled her hand away. “Andrew, I don’t believe in the Mayan prophecies. I think it’s all nonsense. It goes against biblical revelation.”

  “Does it?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll be back in a second.” Standing, he walked to the house.

  Lisa shivered in spite of the outdoor heaters. She gazed skyward again and wondered if she really saw what she had just seen.

  Morgan reappeared and took his seat again. He held a book— a book easy to recognize. “This was my son’s Bible.” He opened the book and turned to the end. He ran his finger over a page and read aloud:

  “The second angel sounded, and something like a great mountain burning with fire was thrown into the sea; and a third of the sea became blood, and a third of the creatures which were in the sea and had life, died; and a third of the ships were destroyed.

  “The third angel sounded, and a great star fell from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell on a third of the rivers and on the springs of waters. The name of the star is called Wormwood; and a third of the waters became wormwood, and many men died from the waters, because they were made bitter.

  “The fourth angel sounded, and a third of the sun and a third of the moon and a third of the stars were struck, so that a third of them would be darkened and the day would not shine for a third of it, and the night in the same way.

  “Then I looked, and I heard an eagle flying in midheaven, saying with a loud voice, ‘Woe, woe, woe to those who dwell on the earth, because of the remaining blasts of the trumpet of the three angels who are about to sound!’ ”

  Morgan turned the Bible and set it in front of Lisa. “Revelation 8:8-13.” She saw tears in his eyes. “Lisa, I want you to come with me.”

  Lisa watched Morgan pull from the portico of the Marriott hotel. The conversation had turned awkward, and Lisa finally admitted that she was too shaken to make decisions about anything, let alone one dealing with her sudden departure to places unknown.

  He said he understood, asked her to think about it, and then drove her to the hotel. After walking her into the lobby, he leaned forward and kissed her on the top of the head. It was the most demonstrative he had ever been.

  Lisa moved to her room and sat on the bed. The image of the Hammer of God she had seen through the telescope seemed to float inside her eyes. She couldn’t get rid of it. Although it was a small image in the eyepiece, it grew in size and detail in her mind.

  Shocking as the sight was, hearing Morgan read from verses from the Bible—especially those verses—was more stunning.

  “Something like a great mountain…” The apostle John’s words rang like a bell in her mind. “That certainly could describe an asteroid.”

  She felt ill again. Rising, she paced the fourth-floor room, taking notice of nothing but the gray-blue carpet. Her skin felt warm. The thermostat read seventy-one, a comfortable temp for her. The heat was coming from inside her body.

  She opened the sliding door and let in the night air. Her thoughts rolled around her head like loose marbles. From the balcony she could see the courtyard below. Children played in a large pool, an elderly couple soaked in the spa, traveling businessmen and women unwound on the first-floor patio. The sound of life rose in the air. Night birds coursed through the air.

  “Dead. All dead, and they don’t know it.”

  Lisa sat in one of the two patio chairs. Her breathing came in ragged inhalations. A moment later, she leaned forward and began to weep. Five minutes later, tears turned into prayer.

  The paper in Garrett’s hand shook.

  “Take a deep breath.” His captor spoke calmly.

  He did.

  “Again. I don’t want to hear any tension in your voice.”

  “Then throw the gun out the window.”

  His captor smiled, but Garrett saw no humor in it. “What, this little ol’ thing?” He pressed the weapon to Garrett’s forehead. “Read it again.”

  Garrett tried but stumbled a few times.

  “Close enough.” The man with the gun pulled a small digital recorder from this pocket and set it on the battered table tucked in the corner of the forty-dollar-a-night hotel. Garrett doubted most people spent the entire night. “I can edit it on my computer.” He pressed the record button and motioned to another paper.

  Garrett got the idea and lifted the paper. “Hey, Uncle Rodney, it’s Garrett. I went out of town for the weekend and my car broke down. No need to worry. I have it in the shop, but it’s going to take a few days, so I’m going to kick it with some friends. Of course, this means I’ll be missing a few days of work. I’m sorry about this, but you know how the piece of junk I call my car is. I’ll check in later.”

  The gunman switched off the recorder.

  “You’ve been most cooperative. We have a few more of these to do.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Garrett had a feeling he knew the answer.

  “I think our last meeting would have taught you to stay out of other people’s computers.”

  “You left me for dead.”

  The man nodded. “Well, in my defense, you looked dead. I don’t usually make those kinds of mistakes.” He raised the gun and pressed the muzzle to Garrett’s temple. “Now, what did you do with the information?”

  “Nothing.”

  Garrett felt the metal of the weapon dig into his skin. “I want names. Did you tell Lisa Campbell?”

  “You already have her. Why ask me?”

  The man eased back on the gun enough that Garrett could straighten his neck. “Actually, I don’t.”

  “But the picture…”

  “Come on, kid. You’re a computer jockey. You know you can’t trust photos these days.”

  “You faked it?”

  “Not hard to do when you know the right people.”

  Garrett felt the need to vomit.

  When Lisa awoke, she was still dressed and reclined on top of the covers. Next to her was the file she intended to show to Morgan after last night’s dinner. Th at changed when he walked her to his telescope.

  She rose, moved to the restroom, and gazed in the mirror. “Yuck. I look like I slept outside.” Truth was, she hadn’t slept much at all.

  She turned on the shower, disrobed, and climbed in. The warm water and gentle noise helped her think. Not that she wanted to think.

  The water poured over her, easing the tension in her neck and shoulders but not the stress in her mind. She had
spent much of the night in prayer, asking God for clear direction. What should she do? When faced with a tough decision, she “tried on” ideas like someone trying on shoes. If one felt comfortable, she went with it, if it didn’t, she tried something else. This morning, nothing was comfortable.

  Morgan’s offer was kind. Last night, she saw an aspect of him she had always known was there but which he kept at bay. In his eyes, she saw genuine concern. Dare she think it? Love?

  For a fleeting moment, she was ready to agree—to say something sappy like, “I’ll follow you anywhere.” The moment evaporated.

  Other thoughts troubled her. The verse from Revelation wasn’t new to her. She had read through the Bible several times, having read the New Testament itself even more times. That included the book of Revelation. The book confused her, infused as it was with first-century descriptions and symbolism that were hard to understand. She had been taught, and deeply believed, that just because the book was symbolic didn’t mean the future events held in its pages would not come true. Besides, there were many other Bible verses that spoke of the second coming of Christ. Was the Hammer of God a fulfillment of some of those prophecies?

  But she was certain that other events would come first. Hadn’t Jesus taught the disciples—and through them, the church—to be alert for the signs?

  Maybe this was one of those signs. Maybe this was the beginning of the great tribulation, God’s punishment upon the world. The thought disquieted her soul. She firmly believed that believers around the world would be caught up in the air to meet Jesus and be spared the wrath of God.

  Maybe that was about to happen. Normally a happy thought for her, she hoped the rapture wouldn’t occur while she was in the shower.

  Minutes later, she had toweled off. She felt cleaner, but still confused. She dressed, then returned to bed. The night had been restless, and she was operating on just a few hours of sleep. The bed looked good, but she fought off the urge to slip beneath the covers. Instead, she knelt by it, propping her arms on the mattress. The position made her feel like a child saying her evening prayers. That didn’t matter.

  Alone in the hotel room, she returned to prayer. One hour later, she rose, packed, and headed for the lobby.

  The airport waiting area buzzed with activity. Disembodied voices poured from overhead speakers, giving instruction about the number of bags passengers could carry aboard. The air carried the smell of thousands of people, and the muted sounds of hundreds of conversations. Lisa found a corner of a waiting area freshly emptied by a departing flight. She had several hours to kill. Buying a ticket at the last minute deprived her of choices. She took the only flight that had open seating. For a few moments, she thought of renting a car and driving the thousand miles from Oklahoma City to San Antonio, but then she did the math. Sixteen hours of nonstop driving would give her lots of time to think, but she just didn’t feel up to it.

  Once again, guilt rose in her like Old Faithful. Should she call Morgan, explain why she left so suddenly, and let him know that it was not personal? She just…needed to leave.

  “We have to stop meeting like this.”

  Her heart stumbled. She turned her eyes from the window overlooking the tarmac and saw Morgan standing a few feet away. He wore a simple smile.

  Garrett had spent the night taped to the chair. His abductor had allowed him to use the bathroom under gunpoint and then made him use a roll of duct tape to bind his own legs and one arm to the chair. His captor secured the free arm. The tape over his mouth remained. Garrett could feel a rash forming beneath the glue.

  The man stepped into the hall. Garrett could hear him talking. There was only one voice. He assumed the man was on a cell phone.

  On the nearby table rested the notes he had been forced to read into the recorder and the fabricated photo that lured him into the car. Now that he could study it, Garrett could see that it had been cobbled together from several photos. Lisa’s head had been digitally added to the body of another woman. He chastised himself for being so gullible. He wondered if stupid people were allowed in heaven. He knew the answer, but his self-loathing kept him from believing it.

  The door opened, and Garrett tensed.

  “I got good news, and I got bad news, Binky. Which do you want to hear first?” Garrett met his eyes. “Oh, that’s right, you can’t talk.” He carried an overnight bag. “I had to make a quick run to the car.” He opened the bag and removed a plastic bottle and large pad of gauze.

  He unscrewed the top. “The good news is, you’re going to get to sleep.” He poured fluid from the bottle and onto the gauze. “The bad news? You don’t get to wake up.”

  Garrett’s heart pounded so hard he expected his ribs to crack.

  The kidnapper stepped close and forced the gauze over Garrett’s nose. Garrett tried to hold his breath but he could do so for only so long. He tried to scream, but the tape and medical gauze muffled the sound. He fought his bonds. He squirmed.

  The room went dark.

  “Have you ever noticed how much time we spend in airports?” Morgan slipped into the seat next to Lisa. Her face warmed. “We met in an airport.”

  “Actually, we met in a Roswell theater.”

  He shook his head. “Only technically. We sat together and exchanged a few words. Our real meeting took place when I offered you a ride home.”

  “I remember. Very gallant.”

  He leaned back and extended his long legs. “So…you weren’t going to say goodbye?”

  “I’m sorry…I just…you see…”

  “You reporters have a way with words.”

  “Hey, I’m flustered here.”

  “I can see that. Let me try. You’re confused about my offer. You’re frightened because a monster asteroid is going drop on everyone’s head. You’re ticked off that no one has revealed pending doom. And none of this fits your theology. How am I doing?”

  “Annoyingly well. Still, there are things you don’t know.”

  “Such as?”

  Lisa pursed her lips and looked away. “I don’t know how to piece all this together. Normally, I’m a pretty sharp gal, but I feel adrift. Do you know what I mean?”

  “About you being smart? Nope, don’t have a clue.”

  “Funny man. How can you be so casual about this? I was slipping out of town without telling you.”

  “Lisa, this isn’t a romantic comedy. We’re both adults. You have a right to leave anytime you like. I have a right to look for you.”

  “Speaking of which, how did you find me?”

  “Long or short story?”

  Lisa eyed him. “The shorter the better.”

  He grinned. “Went to your hotel. You were gone. Gave the guy behind the counter a fifty. He said you took the shuttle to the airport. There are only so many flights to San Antonio.”

  “Clever boy.”

  “My mother always thought so. Now tell me, what is it I don’t know?”

  Lisa pulled her carry-on bag close, opened it, and removed the folder. “I was going to show this to you last night.” She handed him the folder.

  Morgan opened it, and Lisa watched him read the summary page and then glance through the documents. He nodded. “Okay, what about it?”

  “What do you mean, ‘What about it’?”

  “It’s a list of accusations against Quetzal and Maya2012. Am I supposed to be surprised?”

  “Andrew, this should destroy your opinion of Quetzal. He’s been lying to you.”

  “He has?”

  Lisa opened the file. “Okay, first, his name isn’t Robert Quetzal. It’s Robert Sanchez.”

  “I know.”

  “You know. He lies about his name, and yet you trust him?”

  “Who wrote Huck Finn?”

  “Mark Twain —”

  “No, Samuel Clemens wrote Huck Finn. Mark Twain was his pseudonym. Quetzal is a stage name. You remember when you were sitting on my floor last year, eavesdropping on my video conference with him? I was invited to a me
eting with him. The first thing he told us was his real name.”

  “Really? Well, what about the part about him being a Mayan priest? He’s not even Mayan.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “He’s Hispanic.”

  “The Spanish and indigenous Indians intermarried. It’s part of Central American history. Unless you’ve done a DNA test, you have no idea if he has Mayan ancestry.”

  “Did you look at the spreadsheet in the file?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re not bothered by it? Maybe you should look at it again.”

  “Turns out, Ms. Campbell, that I’m pretty good with spread sheets. I am the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. I’m buried to the neck in spreadsheets. Besides, I’ve seen it before.”

  “What? That document shows millions of dollars in offshore accounts. Millions of your dollars.”

  “Yes, it does. Quetzal sent that same info to me and the others. In fact, I have more detailed accountings than that.”

  “Andrew, if the world is coming to an end, then why does Quetzal need money in offshore accounts?”

  “First, no one is saying the world is ending, but it is about to endure a great upheaval. Everything will change and a new society will arise. That will take some seed money. If the world does come to an end, then nothing else matters. Besides, it’s not money he’s storing—it’s gold. Gold has always been valuable. It’s safe to assume that it will be the same in the future. If it’s not, then money won’t matter at all.”

  “But he’s been buying property all over the world.”

  Morgan nodded slowly. “I know that too.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Because many of those are safe areas. He has created several places to wait out the destruction.”

  “What kind of place can keep you safe from a falling mountain?”

  “Come with me and find out.”

  Lisa cut her gaze away.

  “Lisa, I’ve been to one of the sites. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I’ve seen and studied his plan. It will work. I can take you to a place where we can live for years if necessary.” He took her hand. “Come with me.”