“She purposely infected herself?” asked Jasper.
“And made a full recovery,” said Emanui. “Samples taken from her also revealed antibodies to the Black Death present.”
“She had contracted bubonic plague as well?” asked Kevak.
“Espinoza had no knowledge of her ever being sick with it,” said Emanui. “In 2003, Pocatello was part of Espinoza’s team that treated a family in Yellowstone Park who had become infected.”
“Could she have been one of those present in White City during the Venus transit of 2004?” asked Kevak.
“I’m certain of it,” said Emanui. “Espinoza said she had never taken time off work except—”
“Let me guess,” said Tariq. “June of 2004.”
“Precisely,” said Emanui.
“We need to talk to her,” said Boris. “She’s our only link to a Vambir presence among the Aztecs. She could be providing cover for who knows how many of them.”
Emanui shook her head. “Once she recovered, she was debriefed. There had been no contact between her and any known terrorist cells, and it was concluded that her actions were due to her strong feelings about corporate profits being made from her work. She was released under the condition that she report daily to the authorities, but she never showed up. The Rescued are monitoring any movement on the Shoshone reservation.”
“She’s making her way to White City,” said Kevak. “The Venus transit is just over a month away.”
“We need to get there as soon as possible,” said Boris.
“The lifeboat is ready to leave immediately,” said Jasper.
“Given that Pocatello was working with hemorrhagic contagions and her rantings about curing Quetzalcoatl,” said Kevak, “we’ll need full hazmat gear.”
TREK
2012
Liberia, six weeks before the Venus transit
Maz riffled through the drug cabinets and took everything that could be sold on the streets of Monrovia. On her wrist was Espinoza’s gold watch, and she had pocketed the cash that was in his wallet. She knew better than to take his credit cards or mobile phone, which would alert the authorities to her movements.
As she left the lab, she grabbed a large roll of duct tape. After she sold the drug contraband and the gold watch, she was able to buy a stolen passport. She had cut her hair short, and her blockish figure made it easy for her to pose as a man and obtain work as a deck hand on a German container ship flying a Liberian flag that was heading for Guatemala.
She was desperate to get to White City in time for the transit, but it was too risky to travel by air. If detained at the airport, it was likely that her true identity would be discovered, and she would be imprisoned indefinitely.
After the ship departed, she tightened and greased the containers' lashing gear, sanded away rust, and did any other odd jobs required. She spoke to no one as she went about her menial tasks, all the while keeping her mind firmly on her mission to reach Quetzalcoatl.
Everything now depended on her. Her fellow Travelers knew they were being closely monitored and had no choice but to stay in Utah.
Three weeks later, the ship arrived in Guatemala. After concealing the machete she had purchased from a boy at a coconut stand, Maz paid an exorbitant price to ride on top of La Bestia, a decrepit freight train that carried migrants through Honduras.
Removing the GPS from her pants pocket, she briefly turned it on to assess where she would need to jump off. She hated having to use it, since the signal could be tracked, but it would be impossible to find White City without it.
It was late at night when the time came for her to jump from La Bestia. She moved slowly through the tiny gaps between the sleeping migrants, and no one took any notice of her as she gingerly climbed down the side of the rumbling train. Removing her machete, she threw it to the side as she jumped out from the train in order to ensure it would not slice through her. As she fell, she brought her knees up to her body to lessen the shock of the landing and did not fight against the tumbling once she made contact with the ground.
Her ankle struck something hard, and waves of searing pain coursed through her. When she came to a halt, she struggled to stand up. She had twisted her ankle, but to her immense relief, it was not broken.
She stayed crouched down until the last car of La Bestia had lumbered past. Limping along the side of the railroad, she returned to the spot where she had jumped and found her machete. Removing the roll of duct tape from her knapsack, she wrapped her ankle in several tight layers around the sock for support, then proceeded to roll the tape around the entire length of the outside of her pants and sleeves for protection against snakebite.
After putting the tape back into her knapsack, she took a sip from one of the bottles of water and bit off a piece of jerky. She would have to eat and drink sparingly to make the supplies last.
She took a GPS reading and measured the distance from her position to the latitude and longitude coordinates of White City. The results did not please her: she would have to cover at least three miles a day through the thick rainforest if she was going to make it in time.
Letting out a deep sigh, she limped into the jungle, climbed onto the thick lower branch of a tree, and willed herself to sleep. As soon as it was light, she used the machete to hack her way through the jungle, keeping her mind on the sole purpose of reaching Quetzalcoatl in time for the Venus transit.
EXPOSED
Tenochtitlan, 1522
Dujot lay in a stupor. Over a thousand Spanish captives had been sacrificed at the temple altar in one day. One by one, the decapitated bodies and heads of those sacrificed had tumbled down the steep staircase after the blood had been drained from them. The hearts, extracted while the victims were still alive, were then thrown by the high priest to rejoin the broken bodies below.
Bowl after bowl of blood had been offered to him, and he had gorged himself to the point where he could not physically ingest any more. Instead of being sated, his cravings increased with each successive bowl. Feeling a great churning in his stomach, he leaned over and vomited, flooding the floor of his underground chamber. Overcome by the stench, those standing nearby fled as Dujot staggered toward the remaining bowls and gulped down their fresh contents.
An alarm sounded from his stasis pod. The proximity alert was flashing, indicating that a large force was making its way toward Tenochtitlan.
The Conquistadors have returned to take the city.
“Hover!” he commanded.
The Aztecs moved to let him pass as he stumbled through the stone streets with the hovering pod. Crossing the causeway, he looked back to see them following at a discreet distance.
“Get back!” he yelled to them. “I am going to converse with my brother gods!”
The Aztecs obeyed, and Dujot disappeared into the rainforest, leaving them to their fate.
*******
For two weeks he sprinted through the night and rested during the day, safely concealed beneath jungle undergrowth in the pod. It had not been necessary for him to stop and hunt, since the vast amount of blood he had consumed from the sacrifices sustained him, yet his cravings were intense.
Ever since his palmcom first detected the signal of a second pod, Dujot had continuously monitored its position. Amazingly, it had traveled nearly a thousand miles before suddenly becoming stationary. The fact that the pod was being transported in the daytime confirmed it was being carried by humans. His last palmcom reading indicated that the pod had entered prolonged stasis mode.
Dujot had resolved to find the second pod and take possession of it after eliminating the occupant.
Months later, when his scanners revealed he was closing in on the pod signal, he saw a great white city to the east protruding from the rainforest. The location of the city was where the pod had previously resided for a short time. Reasoning that the occupant of the pod must have fallen out with the humans and had made an escape, he decided to take a detour to the city in order to determine if the i
nhabitants were as easily manipulated as those of Tenochtitlan.
He was not disappointed. From the petroglyphs carved into the city walls, he instantly recognized the images of a Vambir female and her infant son. Remaining concealed in the forest, he listened as the Aztecs fervently prayed for the infant Quetzalcoatl to be returned to them while simultaneously calling on the gods to punish his evil mother, Chimalma, for intentionally starving the baby by refusing their blood offerings.
Dujot quickly surmised that the Vambir mother had reentered stasis with her baby, and these fugitives were worth more to him alive than dead.
She had no idea that the Isla broke apart over seventy years ago and was probably waiting for the search party to find her.
This city would be the perfect refuge for him, hidden from the Conquistadors deep within the thick rainforest. He had only to convince the population to worship him as a god, and then once again he would have a plentiful supply of blood.
But subduing the female Vambir in the pod was not something he could easily do on his own. If she had indeed refused to ingest blood, she had not undergone the metamorphosis and would be physically superior to him, despite being malnourished.
As the Aztecs prayed, he walked boldly into their presence with the hovering pod following him.
“I am Mixcoatl, father of the reborn infant Quetzalcoatl,” he announced in the Náhuatl language. “When our chariots descended from the heavens that night in Tenochtitlan, mine landed far away from the city. Quetzalcoatl’s wicked mother, Chimalma, stole him away from me, and I am here to reclaim him and punish her.”
“You have the sleeping chamber of a god, but your body is human,” said Acalan skeptically.
“I liberated the citizens of Tenochtitlan from the false white-skinned gods and accepted the blood offerings given to me in recognition of this incredible feat. By partaking of the sacred blood, I was transformed into the shape of those who worship me. This is how we gods are able to change,” explained Dujot. “Chimalma is a vain goddess who wishes to keep her divine form. She refused your blood offerings, did she not? She is starving my son for the sake of her vanity!”
“Then why don’t you simply find her yourself and rescue your son?” asked Acalan. “You should not need our help.”
“Do not doubt me, priest,” retorted Dujot. “How do you suppose I acquired this chariot? Would a mere human be able to steal it from a god and then command it as I do? I come here not to ask for your assistance but to inform you that I intend to make this city the permanent home of my son. Montezuma is dead, killed by the god-impersonating invaders. He refused to acknowledge my divinity because he could not publicly admit that he had been mistaken in accepting Cortés as Quetzalcoatl. If you question my divinity further, I shall leave this place forever once I have freed Quetzalcoatl, and you can face the wrath of Chimalma on your own.”
Acalan sank to his knees. “Forgive us, Mixcoatl. We pursued Chimalma, but she was too fast for us.”
“She will pay for what she has done,” said Dujot. “You will first construct a special prison cell for her, and then we will depart to liberate Quetzalcoatl.”
“We are at your command,” said Acalan.
“I have had a long journey and require sustenance,” said Dujot.
“There are scattered tribes aplenty in the rainforest,” said Acalan. “We will acquire sacrifices immediately.”
*******
Dujot used the bio-scanner to lead the Aztecs to Vrin’s pod.
“There,” he said, pointing to a mass of tangled vines.
“I cannot see it, Mixcoatl,” said Acalan.
“It is there,” Dujot assured him.
The Aztecs set about pulling away the vines until the top of the pod was exposed. As soon as they had extracted it, they set it down before Dujot.
Using his palmcom, he transmitted an automated message indicating that the Isla’s search party was near. Vrin’s pod accepted it and turned over voice control to him, as it had been programmed to do.
“Hover!” he commanded.
The pod levitated and followed Dujot and the Aztecs back to White City. Once there, he walked into the temple chamber that had been constructed for Vrin.
“You must be quick,” he warned the Aztecs. “Once the hatch opens, take Quetzalcoatl from her immediately. She will be weak for only a very short time and will soon recover her superior strength.”
“We are ready to give our lives for Quetzalcoatl if Chimalma attacks us,” said Acalan.
Dujot entered the revival sequence for the pod. As soon as the lid opened, two women with obsidian knives cut the straps of Vrin’s sling and snatched the infant. As Vrin regained consciousness, four men placed her in the base of the alabaster sarcophagus they had painstakingly constructed. Dujot used his great strength to slide the massive lid in place, carefully lining up the holes.
“Seal it quickly!” he exclaimed.
The Aztecs furiously hammered the obsidian cylinders into each of the lined-up holes as the sounds of Vrin’s screams could be heard from within.
“It is done, Mixcoatl!” cried Acalan.
“Bring me my son,” commanded Dujot.
Once the baby was in his arms, he brought a bowl of blood to his lips.
“Today is the beginning of Quetzalcoatl’s transformation,” announced Dujot. “My son and I will protect you from the white-skinned invaders, and the Aztec Empire will be reborn in White City!”
Handing the baby over to one of the women, Dujot walked to the alabaster sarcophagus and poured the remainder of the bowl into the tiny, carved opening at the mouth.
“Today is also the beginning of Chimalma’s punishment,” he said.
UNDERCOVER
White City, 2012
Five days before the Venus transit
As the cloaked lifeboat silently touched down, the computer scan of the structures appeared on the main screen. Those looking out the viewports saw only jungle overgrowth.
“Leave the overgrowth intact,” instructed Kevak. “It is essential that Pocatello believes this place is still undiscovered.”
Bio-scans of the perimeter revealed only animal and reptilian life forms.
“She’s not in the vicinity,” said Tariq. “It’s safe to go outside.”
Walking gingerly in their Hazmat suits with their portable terminals, they could see the 3D map of the grand city surrounding them.
“Look,” said Emanui, pointing at a wall of one of the structures.
As they walked closer, the outline of a petroglyph depicting a female Vambir holding an infant appeared on their screens.
“It’s uncanny,” said J’Vor.
They walked in different directions and studied the images on their screens.
“This building appears to be some kind of repository for sculptures and art,” said Tariq, pointing to the structure in front of him.
Making their way through the twisted vines covering the entrance, they came upon a great wooden door. Kevak used his superior strength to pull it open just enough for them to squeeze through. Once inside, all were taken aback at the priceless artifacts that had been untouched for centuries. There were more jade busts like the one that had been displayed at the exhibition. The Vambir features were unmistakable.
“Look at the pictographs!” exclaimed Jasper.
As the wall was illuminated by the artificial light of the terminals, perfectly preserved pictographs depicting the Vambir landing in Tenochtitlan came into view. Unlike the sole, vague pictograph at the exhibition that had shown the triple-headed comet with three separate vapor trails, what was displayed before them now was an elaborately detailed storyboard showing three stasis pods descending in formation then suddenly separating with one crashing into the temple of Huitzilopochtli, one plunging into Lake Texcoco, and the third trailing off beyond the horizon into the rainforest.
They were all taken aback at the pictograph showing a female Vambir with her infant waving to Aztecs that were bowing in submi
ssion. At her feet was an open stasis pod resting on the banks of a lake.
“We must remove any artifacts that unmistakably show the Vambir,” said Kevak. “It’s only a matter of time before archeologists discover this city.”
As Emanui began to carefully take down the pictographs, more were revealed stacked behind. “Oh, no.”
“What is it?” asked Tariq.
“It’s the female Vambir holding her baby,” said Emanui. “The Aztecs are offering her a bowl of blood, and she’s refusing it.”
“She looks angry,” said J’Vor.
“And malnourished,” said Kevak.
“Look at this one,” said Tariq, pointing to one with a female Vambir running in the foreground with her baby as a hovering pod followed. The Aztecs were shown in the background fruitlessly searching for her.
“Without hemo-rations there would be no choice but to reenter stasis,” said Kevak.
“But the lifeboat scans haven’t picked up a homing beacon signal in this region,” said J’Vor.
“Perhaps it malfunctioned,” mused Kevak.
“They found the pod,” said Jasper, picking up another pictograph and handing it to Kevak. It showed the Aztecs offering bowls of blood to a Vambir infant in the arms of a large, white-skinned human male.
A look of alarm came over Kevak’s face. “It’s a transformed Vambir. He must have been able to track the female’s homing beacon once she reentered stasis with her baby.”
“Couldn’t the white-skinned male be a Conquistador instead?” asked Tariq.
“No,” said Kevak. “The Spanish were always pictured with beards and were small in stature. Look how the male is clean-shaven and towers over the Aztecs.”
The Nosferatu Chronicles: The Aztec God Page 12
