Domain

by Steve Alten

  That's far enough. I planted the seed, now I have to regain his confidence. She turns her attention back to the map of Chichen Itza. For some reason, the aerial image of the cenote catches her eye. She thinks back to the previous night, her walk through the jungle.

  The cenote walls. . . glistening in the moonlight. The grooves in the limestone . . .

  What is it?

  Startled, she looks up, surprised to find him hovering over her. Uh, nothing, it's probably nothing.

  Tell me. The ebony eyes are too intense to fool.

  Here, see this map. The aerial image of the cenote resembles the pattern of concentric circles found within the Nazca pyramid drawing.

  My parents came to the same conclusion. They spent months scuba diving inside every cenote, exploring every sinkhole and subterranean cave in the area. The only thing they found were a few skeletons, the sacrificial remains of the dead, but nothing even resembling a passage.

  Have you checked the cenote since the earthquake? She cringes as the words escape her mouth.

  Earthquake? Mick's face lights up. The earthquake on the fall equinox struck Chichen Itza? Jesus, Dominique, why didn't you tell me this before?

  I don't know-I guess I didn't realize it was that important. By the time I found out, Foletta had doped you into a vegetable.

  Tell me about the earthquake. How did it affect the cenote?

  It was just a blurb in the news. A bunch of tourists claimed they witnessed the well's waters churning during the seismic disturbance.

  Mick takes off running.

  Wait, where are you going?

  We'll need a car. We'll probably have to spend a day or two in Merida picking up supplies. Eat something. I'll meet you back here in an hour.

  Mick, wait-what supplies? What are you talking about?

  Scuba gear. We need to check out the cenote.

  She watches him jog down the road, heading into town.

  Way to go, Sigmund. You weren't supposed to encourage him.

  Annoyed at herself, she leaves the barn and enters the Formas' home, a five-room stucco dwelling brightly decorated in Mexican motif. She finds a plate of fried bananas and corn bread on the kitchen table and sits down to eat.

  Then she notices the telephone.

  JOURNAL OF

  JULIUS GABRIEL

  It was the summer of 1985, and we were back in Nazca. For the first six months, the three of us commuted daily from a small apartment in lca, a bustling little city located 90 miles to the north of Nazca. But our dwindling budget soon forced us to relocate, and I moved my family into a sparse, two-room dwelling in the farming village of lngenio.

  Having sold our camper, I was able to purchase a small hot-air balloon. Each Monday morning at sunrise, Maria, Michael, and I would soar a thousand feet over the desert pampa, photographing the myriad lines and magnificent animals etched upon the plateau. The remainder of the week would be dedicated to a thorough analysis of the photos, which we hoped would reveal the message that might guide our entrance into the Kukulcan pyramid.

  The overwhelming challenge of translating the Nazca drawings is that there are far more false clues than real ones. Hundreds of animal figures and thousands of shapes proliferate the desert canvas like prehistoric graffiti, the majority of which were not created by the original artist of Nazca. Rectangles, triangles, trapezoids, cluster, and impossibly straight lines, some over 25 miles in length, are spread over 200 square miles of dun-colored flats. Add to these the humanlike figures carved into the surrounding hillsides, and you can see how daunting our task was. Nevertheless, our efforts eventually helped segregate what we deemed to be the more vital etchings from the rest of the Peruvian epigraph.

  It is the older, more intricate drawings that hold the real message of Nazca. We can only guess at the date of their origins, but we know they are at least 1500 years old.

  The hieroglyphs of Nazca serve two distinct functions. Icons we termed primary drawings are used to describe the story behind the doomsday prophecy, while secondary figures etched in proximity to these icons provide us with important clues to help decipher their meaning.

  The artist's tale begins at the center of the desert canvas with a figure Maria had nicknamed the Nazca sunburst, a perfect circle consisting of 23 lines extending outward from its perimeter. One of these lines is longer than the rest, extending some 20 miles across the desert. A dozen years later, I would discover that this elongated line was precisely aligned to Orion's belt. Shortly thereafter, Michael would locate an iridium canister buried at the heart of this mysterious starting point, the contents of which contained an ancient map of the world (see June 14,1990 entry). This parchment seem to identify the Yucatan Peninsula and the Gulf of Mexico as the final battleground for the Armageddon to come.

  Lying in dose proximity to the sunburst is the Nazca spider. Its specific genus- Ricinulei, is one of the rarest in the world, and can only be found in some of the most inaccessible areas of the Amazon rain forest. Like the whales and monkey, the Nazca spider is another species not indigenous to the Peruvian desert. For this reason, we considered it to be a directional icon, in this case, celestial by nature. It turns out the spider is an incredibly accurate terrestrial marker designed to direct the observer (again) to the constellation of Orion. The straight lines of the arachnoid have been oriented in such a way as to track the changing declinations of the three Orion belt stars, the same series of stars the Egyptians used to align the pyramids of Giza.

  Surrounding the sunburst, scattered about the plateau, are more than a dozen bizarre drawings of winged predatory creatures. Note that I am not referring to the more recent drawings of the hummingbird or pelican, two species indigenous to the area, but, instead, to a series of hellish-looking bangs, the likes of which I still cannot identify. These mysterious, taloned creatures proliferate on the Nazca canvas, and I am still at a loss as to their function.

  The longest zoomorph on the plateau is the 617-foot Nazca serpent Unfortunately, much detail of the beast has been obliterated by the Pan American Highway, which cuts across its torso. The serpent's presence on the pampa may symbolize the dark rift of the Milky Way, then again, its proximity to the Nazca pyramid, like the monkey and whales, may offer it as a signpost directing us to Chichen Itza, a Mayan city dominated by the image of the Feathered Serpent.

  The serpent's tail, like the sunburst and spider, has been oriented to Orion.

  There are several other drawings that stand out as pieces of the Mayan prophecy. The last that I shall mention-and our favorite-is the figure we nicknamed the Nazca

  astronaut Suffice it to say that the presence of this 2,000-year-old extraterrestrial being remained a vision of comfort during our days on the pampa, a convincing reminder that we were not alone in our quest, at least in spirit. The owlish-looking humanoid male, adorned in uniform and boots, has his right hand raised in what could only be interpreted as a gesture of friendship. Clearly set apart from the rest of the Nazca message, the giant E.T. has been etched upon one of the hillsides like an artist's signature on the margin of a painting.

  DECEMBER 23, 1989.

  After more than four years of work on the Peruvian desert, I decided to take my family to visit the most impressive of the ancient drawings: the Trident of Paracas. Located 100 miles north of the desert pampa, this figure, often referred to as El Candelabro, or the Andes Candelabra, has never been officially linked to the Nazca drawings, even though its intricate pattern, size, and age easily qualify it as a work of our mysterious artist.

  The Trident's creator chose to engrave this colossal symbol on an entire mountainside facing the Bay of Paracas. The magnificent icon consists of a three-pronged candelabra design similar to that of a devil's pitchfork, except the pointed ends, all facing up, are embellished with petal-like features. Because the etching is exposed to much harsher weather conditions than those of Nazca, the artist dug much deeper into the hillside, carving the icon's outline a full three feet into the salty crustlike s
urface of the mountain. At 600 feet long and nearly 200 feet across, the Trident of Paracas is an easy landmark to spot.

  I remember the three of us staring at the ancient marker from our boat on that fateful day in December. As the setting sun at our backs turned crimson, the Trident's crystal-like soil began sparkling in the diminishing light, giving the

  outline of the icon an almost luminescent red glow. This effect seemed to energize Maria, who quickly surmised that the Candelabra must surely have been left as an ancient signpost, directing our civilization to the Nazca desert.

  The thought made me think of the arch in St. Louis, the symbolic gateway to America's heartland. I was about to say as much when my beloved suddenly doubled over in excruciating pain and let out a mournful wail. Then, as Michael and I watched in horror, she collapsed onto the deck, unconscious.

  -Excerpt from the Journal of Professor Julius Gabriel,

  Ref. Catalogue 1985-90 pages 31-824

  Photo Journal Floppy Disk 8 9: File name: NAZCA, Photos 34 56

  Chapter 22

  DECEMBER 13, 2012

  ABOARD THE USS BOONE

  GULF OF MEXICO

  4:46 A.M.

  Captain Edwin Loos greets Vice President Ennis Chaney and Marvin Teperman as they stagger off the Sikorsky SH-60B Seahawk and step onto the deck of the USS Boone.

  The CO smiles. Are you all right, Mr. Vice President? You look a little queasy.

  We ran into some weather. Are the UAVs in position?

  Two Predators hovering above the target area, just as you requested, sir.

  Marvin removes his life vest, handing it to the chopper pilot. Captain, what makes your people think we'll see another one of those whirlpools tonight?

  Sensors indicate subterranean electromagnetic fluctuations are rising, just like they did the last time the maelstrom appeared. Loos leads them through the superstructure, escorting them to the ship's Combat Information Center.

  The darkened high-tech chamber is buzzing with activity. Commander Curtis Broad glances up from a sonar station. You're just in time, skipper. Sensors indicate a rise in electromagnetic activity. It looks like another maelstrom may be forming.

  Circling above the emerald glow in staggered altitudes are two of the USS Boone's unmanned aerial reconnaissance vehicles, known as Predator. As the waters of the Gulf begin pulling in a counterclockwise motion, the Predators' infrared and television cameras beam real-time images back to the warship.

  Chaney, Teperman, Captain Loos, and two dozen technicians and scientists stare at the video monitors, their pulses racing as the whirlpool takes shape before their eyes.

  The vice president shakes his head in disbelief. What on God's good earth could possess the power to create something like that?

  Marvin whispers, Maybe the same thing that's been detonating karst formations across the Western Pacific.

  The maelstrom rotates faster, its monstrous centrifugal force opening a swirling funnel, which drops clear down to the fractured seafloor. As the waters part, the eye of the vortex unleashes a brilliant emerald beacon into the night, radiating skyward like a celestial searchlight.

  There, Marvin points to the screen. Rising out from the center-

  I see them, Chaney whispers, dumbfounded.

  Three dark shadows levitate out of the light and straight up through the eye of the maelstrom.

  What in the fuck is that, Loos swears. A dozen stunned scientists yell out to their colleagues and assistants to verify that all sensory data is being collected. I

  The objects continue rising out of the whirlpool. Hovering above the sea, they approach the lowest of the two UAVs.

  The Predator's picture becomes fuzzy with static, then goes blank.

  The second Predator continues transmitting.

  I want both Seahawks airborne now, Captain Loos orders. Reconnaissance only. Chief, keep the remaining Predator at a safe distance. Don't lose that signal.

  Aye, sir. Sir, what's a safe distance?

  Captain, Seahawks are airborne-

  Keep them away from that light, Chaney barks.

  The three alien objects rise to an altitude of two thousand feet. With robotic precision, they execute a pirouette, rotating their enormous wings into full horizontal extension, and accelerate, disappearing instantly from view.

  Captain Loos rushes over to the Mk. 23 Target Acquisition System. Second Lieutenant Linda Muraresku is already tracking the objects using the Boone's fast-rotating radar dish.

  I've got them, sir-barely. I've never seen anything like this before. No heat signatures, no sound, just some faint electromagnetic static. No wonder our satellites missed them.

  How fast?

  Mach 4 and still accelerating. All three targets heading west. Better contact NORAD, Captain. At this speed, they'll be off my screen any minute.

  North American Aerospace Defense Command

  NORAD Colorado

  The 9,565-foot towering mound of jagged granite known as Cheyenne Mountain is located four miles southwest of Colorado Springs. Two heavily guarded access tunnels at its base run a third of a mile below the surface, serving as the sole entrances into the four-and-a-half-acre subterranean compound known as the North American Aerospace Defense Command, or NORAD.

  NORAD provides the military with a unified command center linking every branch of the armed forces, Combined Intelligence Centers, systems, and weather stations. The facility's primary function, however, is to detect missile launches anywhere in the world, be it land, sea, or in the air. Such events fall into two basic categories.

  Strategic warnings are issued when an ICBM is launched against North America, an event originating from a distance exceeding 2,100 nautical miles, carrying an impact time of approximately thirty minutes. A four-minute chain-of-command sequence quickly disseminates information to the president and all US Defense Command Centers.

  Theater warnings involve missiles fired upon US and Allied Forces in the field. Because a Scud or Cruise missile can strike within minutes, NORAD relays warnings directly to field commanders via satellite.

  Cheyenne Mountain's most important early-warning missile-detection system originates 22,300 miles in space. It is here that NORAD's Defense Support Program (DSP) satellites circle Earth in a geostationary orbit, providing continuous, overlapping coverage of the entire planet. Aboard these two-and-a-half-ton satellites are high-tech infrared sensors that instantly detect heat signatures created during a missile's booster stage.

  Major Joseph Unsinn salutes the MPs stationed at the glass vault door, then climbs into an awaiting tram. After a brief ride through a maze of tunnels, he arrives at NORAD's command center to begin his twelve-hour shift.

  The NORAD commander is no stranger to missile launches, each year witnessing no less than two hundred such events. But this is different. With the world on the brink of war, tensions are running high.

  His counterpart, Major Brian Sedio, is busy studying the Defense Support Program satellite monitor, the image of Vice President Chaney's face plastered across the video-comm mounted above his console.

  What's going on?

  Sedio looks up. You're just in time. The VP's flipping out. The major turns off the muting switch. I'm sorry, Mr. Vice President. DSP's designed to detect heat signatures, not electromagnetic interference. If these alien objects of yours continue across the Pacific into Asia, there's a chance we could pick them up using our land-based radar, but as far as our satellites are concerned, they're invisible.

  The intensity of Chaney's eyes is alarming. Find them, Major. Coordinate whatever search you have to. I want to be informed the moment you get a fix on their locations.

  The screen goes blank.

  Major Sedio shakes his head. Would you believe this shit? The world's on the brink of war, and Chaney thinks we're being attacked by aliens.

  DECEMBER 14, 2012

  ROCK FOREST OF SHILIN

  YUNNAN PROVINCE, SOUTHERN CHINA

  5:45 A.M. (BEIJING TIME)


  The province of Yunnan, together with Guizhou, makes up the southwest region of the People's Republic of China. With an abundance of lakes, staggering mountains, and rich foliage, few areas in all of China provide visitors with such a wide variety of landscape to explore.

  The most populated city in the province is Kunming, the capital of Yunnan. Located seventy miles southeast of the city is its most important tourist attraction: the Stone Forest of Lunan, also known as the Rock Forest of Shilin. Covering an expanse of over one hundred square miles, the Rock Forest is a myriad of bizarre, mountainous needles of limestone soaring to heights of nearly one hundred feet. Walkways lead visitors through the ranks of pinnacles, the wooden bridges crossing streams and boring through natural rock archways that proliferate on this torturous landscape.

  The factors leading to the Rock Forest began some 280 million years ago, when the rise of the Himalayas caused erosion that carved jagged spiral formations out of the limestone plateau. Further upheavals over eons created deep fissures within the karst, which eventually became enlarged by the rainwater, forming towering shards of grayish white, dagger-shaped rocks.

  It is not quite dawn when fifty-two-year-old Janet Parker and her personal tour guide, Quik-sing, arrive at the front gate of the public park. Having ignored a US State Department travel advisory warning regarding China, the brash businesswoman from Florida has insisted on visiting the Rock Forest prior to embarking on her late-morning flight out of Kunming.

  She follows her guide past a pagoda and onto a wooden platform that winds through the jagged formations of limestone. Hold it, Quik-sing. Are you telling me this is it? This is what we drove an hour to see?

  Wo ting budong-

  English, Quik-sing, English.

  I do not understand, Miss Janet. This is the Stone Forest. What were you expecting?

  Obviously something a little more spectacular. All I can see are miles of rock. A glimmer of brilliant amber light catches her eye. Wait, what's that? She points to the source, the golden beacon flashing between several limestone shafts.