by Rick Jones
Everyone was in awe.
Including Demir.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The body inside the crypt was in amazingly good shape after 14,000 years. It was also long, almost seven-six in length, with browning skin that had a soapy, waxy look to it. Its eyelids were closed, the flesh sinking deep into the hollows of its head. Whatever burial garments it might have been wearing had long since decayed, exposing a body that appeared sexless. Its hands were long, as was its feet. And its ribs were oddly warped. Sitting on its head was a crystal crown with the emblem of ₱, for Anu. And held tightly within its grasp of its bony fingers was an obsidian staff in the shape of an upside-down Ahnk, the staff itself symbolic in its meaning of ALL LIFE UNDER ONE.
Lights flashed down on its face. The crystal crown glistened under the glare of the beams, its facets sparkling like diamonds.
“Amazing,” said Alyssa.
“Look at the size of this thing,” said John. “It has to be what? Seven and a half feet, maybe close to eight feet tall?”
“Closer to seven and a half,” stated Demir. He flashed the light along its length. The body—considering how old it was—he considered to be in remarkably good shape.
Alyssa carefully examined it with her flashlight, making her own insights and developing her own conclusions. “Anu, the Creator of mankind,” she finally said. “Look here.” She flashed the light to its hands, then to its feet, noting the disproportionate sizes compared to the length of its body. She then shined the light to its cranium which was malformed with brow protrusions and elongation, a sign that this person had gone through the head-binding technique as a child, a process conducted to those of royalty. Obviously the crown was solely crafted to fit its oddly shaped skull.
“It’s a malformed corpse,” said Demir. “Is this what you’re claiming God to be?” Now he sounded angry and perturbed.
“This body is not malformed,” stated Hillary. “This body is the exact design of what these helix columns represent. You see, these columns, and the size of this sarcophagus which represents a boat to take Him back to his world, are all symbols that embody the being that is He.” Hillary flashed his light to the lid and over the archaic symbols. “Do you see those markings?” he asked everyone in general. “Do you see the symbol of Mintaka encased in a gem of light shaped as a diamond? Now if you look closely enough, you’ll see that Mintaka is the twelfth planet in the solar system.”
Alyssa said, “That’s right. The Sumerians believed that the Annunaki, the race of beings from the stars where Anu was the Supreme Being, the God who ruled over the angels, resided on the twelfth planet in our solar system. They counted the nine planets, Earth’s moon, the sun, and the star Mintaka, the twelfth planet, which is the place of origin for this being. That’s why the image is so pronounced on the seal. It’s its home, or for the people of Earth at the time, a representation of Heaven . . . The home of God.” She then returned to the body and scanned it with the beam of her flashlight, the light passing over the malformations of the skull and ribs. If the body had been whole, she thought, if it was fleshed out, then the differences may not have been so apparent with the exception of its skull which, if not caused by a genetic disposition, could have been encouraged by the technique of head binding.
But its phenomenal height was directly in line with Sumerian text and pictographs. From ancient texts, the Sumerians were not allowed to cast Anu in his true image. So they created idols in an image very similar to what lay in this sarcophagus, a being of great height but with minor adjustments. “On the surface,” she said, “at face value, this being may not be genetically imperfect at all.”
Hillary agreed. Then he went to the ladder-like columns and grabbed a rung. “Perhaps,” he began, “this networking strand is the natural chain for these beings. These columns, this representation of the genetic strand, are also the framework surrounding this being’s crypt. Perhaps these odd severances we see in the DNA chains are the subtle differences between us . . . and them.”
“This strand,” said Savage, “this helix that surrounds this tomb, is it the same one we saw in the chamber of the scaled model of Eden? Is this the image that emitted from the cap of Alnitak?”
Hillary nodded. “Which is why I said it,” he returned. “If you recall, the scaled model of the pyramid of Alnitak absorbed the energy of our lights and discharged that energy through the cap’s lens to create a holograph image of this same helix—the very same helix. The question is why? Why does the same spiraling strand that now arches over this sarcophagus rise from the model of Alnitak? Why the same one?”
She looked at the body, as did everyone else. Even though the minister and Demir’s troops didn’t understand the language, they were somehow getting the gist of the conversation.
“I’ll tell you why,” said Hillary. “Whatever is sitting upon the so-called thrones of the third pyramid, whatever sits inside the temple of Alnitak, bears the same genetic makeup of whatever this is inside this crypt.”
“This isn’t human,” said Savage, referring to the body.
“Are you so sure, John? After what you discovered in the trenches deep beneath the Yucatan Peninsula?”
John stood down. Hillary was right, especially after acknowledging the fact that we, in general, were never alone, and that the universe, in itself, was an ecosystem teeming with life.
“I believe,” said Hillary, “that the holographic image emanating from the top of the Alnitak model was an indication of a race very similar to this. They are bigger, stronger, probably more powerful and certainly far more intelligent. And those who currently sit upon the thrones in the third pyramid, according to scripture, are a greater race that will rise and rule after the demise of humankind in the year 2021.” He looked at the mummified corpse. “So take a good look at the new humankind.”
Savage shook his head. “Nothing could sustain itself over the period of 14,000 years buried beneath the sands,” he said. “If there are people like him in Alnitak, then they have died off as well. They’re probably in worse shape than this guy.”
“Perhaps,” he said. He then raised his head until his eyes met with Savage’s. “So tell me, why pick the year 2021? Certainly there had to be a reason.”
“There are false prophesies written everywhere,” he answered. “You said so yourself.”
“But that was before I entered this Chamber. Before,” he hesitated as he let his hand gesture over the body. “I saw this. But it’s apparent that you don’t believe in Alyssa’s prognostication of the Mintaka calendar?”
“I believe that she was spot on in her interpretation, absolutely. All I’m saying is that it’s just another empty prediction. Mankind is not going to end in the year 2021.”
“Even after what you have seen over the past year? After what you had witnessed inside of Eden and the Yucatan. Can you truly turn a blind eye after what you have seen in here, inside the temple of Mintaka?”
Savage faced the body inside the crypt. It was human, but not quite. It did, however, possess striking similarities to Sumerian sculptures of tall beings that they claimed to have been gods, or God, coming from a twelfth planet presumably from the Orion Belt.
Savage sighed.
“A remarkable discovery,” said Hillary. “In reference to the Bible, perhaps we are His garden; perhaps the Garden of Eden is actually an allegorical reference to mankind’s beginnings.”
“How so?” asked Savage.
“Allegorically speaking, perhaps Eden was the point of genesis where we were actually reseeded by Anu, a Garden of Children who are growing and learning with mild cultivation from Anu. Perhaps we are His children after all.”
As he was speaking, the representative from The Culture Minister of Turkey was detailing and charting the body of Anu, the God of the One, by taking digital photographs and making notes, the man spouting off in Turkish wanting to take a skin sample for DNA processing.
But Savage ignored him as he listened to Hillary’s
theory, thinking that man had certainly screwed things up over time, having slipped and fell along the way with wars and genocides, only to forget the lessons of hardship with subsequent wars and genocides. Man was a mess, having yet to mature over thousands of years when, in fact, he was growing more monstrous by the day.
Perhaps, he thought, God had grown tired of man and was about to start anew.
Could he blame Him?
Demir was getting anxious. They had found the central point of the temple. They had found the Chamber of God. But a simple question remained. “When this is over and done with, how do we get out of here since there is no way out? Discoveries are worthless if there is no one to share them with.”
The man was right. They were so caught up with the discovery of the sarcophagus that no one thought about the aftermath of the situation. They were hemmed in. And Mintaka didn’t offer a clue of retreat since they had reached the final point.
Then one of Demir’s crew spoke in Turkish, his tone obviously agitated.
Demir listened, turned, and along with everyone else smelled the caustic stench of smoke.
Demir went to the stage’s edge and looked down.
Creeping along the floor like ground mist, a slight haze was gathering.
“There’s a fire somewhere,” Demir said.
His comrade went off again, just as agitated and just as angry.
“He says he recognizes the smell from when he served in the UN in Iraq and Iran. He says it’s the smell of burning oil fields.”
“There was oil on the levels down below,” said Savage.
Hillary nodded. “It appeared that the conduits piping the natural crude through lines to feed the cauldrons broke. Oil is pooling.”
“And as long as there’s fuel and oxygen, oil will burn all day long.” Demir looked around urgently, his eyes seeking out anything that would provide an avenue of escape.
The smoke was getting thicker, rising, the tendrils advancing to where the oxygen was, feeding from it, and growing.
It was rising from the vents at the bottom of the stage.
“We have to get out of here!” said Demir. “And fast! If the smoke gets too thick, we’ll be dead in minutes.”
Hillary started to go into a panic, whining and whimpering like a child. The body and the helix columns were no longer thoughts on his mind as self-preservation swept over him like a suffocating tide, his breaths now coming in gasps and shallow hitches.
The smoke began to rise and mount the stairway with crawling slowness, as if teasing.
And then Demir saw it.
In the pools of smoke where it ran at its thinnest along the floor, the commando saw movement.
As was the way with Mintaka, the floor was again alive.
Demir prepared himself by raising his weapon and took aim.
The floor was writhing.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Coils and loops of something alive and blacker than black made its way toward the stage, the life forms seeking higher ground. They were driven by the smoke, the madness of its coils twisting as if it was driven to panic.
Olfactory senses kicked into self-preservation and directed the force where to go, to where there was salvation, to where the smoke was at its weakest, and toward a point of greater height.
Demir’s team raised their weapons in unison, pointing them downward into the swells of smoke.
“What?” said Savage, pulling Alyssa close. “What do you see?”
Demir didn’t take his eyes off his point of interest.
The coils continued to press toward the stage. Whatever it was sounded like sandpaper rubbing against the surface of wood.
. . . chucka-chucka-chucka . . .
And it was getting louder.
. . . CHUCKA - CHUCKA - CHUCKA . . .
Savage grew angry at Demir for being non-responsive, and he made that known when he barked at the senior commando, demanding to know what he was focusing on. “Demir, what is it?”
Demir raised his weapon until it was eye level. “There’s something in the smoke,” he said.
He then pulled the trigger, the area lighting up with muzzle flashes as Demir’s team joined in, a volley of bullets ripping and tearing at the mass hiding within the haze.
But still, it kept on coming.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
They had lain undisturbed in their den beneath the chamber floor until the smoke had forced them to seek a safer haven. They had moved as one, the thick ropes of their serpentine bodies climbing over one another as they made their way toward the vents beneath the stage. Scales moved over scales, the rough texture of their skins sounding like sandpaper rubbing against wood, back and forth, their movements continuous and always in motion.
The smoke was growing thicker and sapping their oxygen. So they made for higher ground.
By the hundreds they poured from the vents along the bottom of the stage. But the smoke was here as well, always rising and seeking new territory.
The cobras were driven to the stairwells leading to the stage, to a point higher than the layer of smoke.
They raised themselves and began to mount the stairs; the smoke already claiming victims as most of the cobras within the den succumbed to smoke that had become too thick and overwhelming.
They were dark and inky, their bodies as thick as radiator hoses, and their scales glistened like oil as they glided up the steps with ease and toward stage level.
And then there was gunfire.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
The firefight seemed endless.
The smell of cordite now mingled with the acrid smell of the smoke, the two scents combining into a particularly nasty aroma.
Red meat and matter exploded upon the bullets impacts, the drippings going everywhere. As soon as one cobra went down another took its place. There were too many for so few bullets.
Savage joined in by unslinging the weapon from around his shoulder and took post at the top of the opposite stairway. The cobras continued to scale the steps, detecting threats along the top of the stairwells.
In unison the cobras reared up and began to waver like seaweed gently swaying with a flow of soft current, and then their capes expanded quickly about their heads as if on cue, the hoods making the serpents appear larger, wider, more menacing. Then they struck with a blur, their fangs seeking the purchase of flesh but finding nothing but open air as venom dripped from their points like teardrops.
Alyssa hunkered down alongside the sarcophagus with her hands covering her ears. The minister followed her action, getting down beside her until their bodies pressed together as one. Hillary mindlessly ran from one end of the stage to the other. Surrounding him was a sea of moving blackness, the level getting higher, the creatures mounting one another.
Bullets tore, ripped and destroyed. But the act appeared futile. There were just too many.
Savage ejected a clip and seated another in fluid motion, and then returned to firing.
Hillary stood and watched, his mouth agape, his eyes darting in his head as he white-knuckled the edge of the sarcophagus, his mind racing with ideas that refused to settle into a cohesive thought.
A cobra reared up in front of Savage, hissing, its cape flaring around its head as wide as a baseball glove. Savage took quick aim and fired, the cape, the head, now gone, the body falling limply to the stair. More took its place—two, three heads rising, then flared. It was like combating the Hydra, he thought. After you kill one, then more heads rise in its place.
The team was becoming overwhelmed.
And the smoke was rising and growing thicker.
People began to cough, their lungs getting their fill.
Suddenly Demir’s weapon went dry as the chamber clicked uselessly in quick succession. “I’m out!” he cried. He tossed the weapon aside and went for his combat knife, a KA-BAR, and withdrew it cleanly from its sheath.
Savage also went dry. But having no knife, he used the weapon like a club, the stock end of the ass
ault weapon striking the cobras and keeping them at bay, at least for the moment.
A cobra as long as six feet and as thick as a gas hose reared up, flared its hood, and lashed out, striking one of Demir’s commandos in the thigh above the knee, a clean hit.
The soldier winced as he fell to a knee, the pain incredible as the venom began to course through his veins. The moment the man had downed himself the cobra struck a second time, the fangs catching the soft tissue of the soldier’s face before it fell back for another strike.
Cobras began to take new ground as the other soldier fell back, the man still firing off his weapon until it, too, went dry. The commando shouted out that he was out of ammo, and then went for his knife.
Everyone was backing towards the center of the platform, soon finding themselves pressed against the sarcophagus and out of room.
The wounded soldier took additional strikes as the cobras overwhelmed him, striking him with repeated blows, puncturing the man’s skin and setting off more rounds of venom shots.
The man screamed as he swung an arm feebly in defense, the snakes now crawling around him, over him, their bodies now overriding him as the soldier fell supine to the floor, then becoming a shape beneath layers of cobras that now covered his unmoving body.
Demir shouted out in Turkish.
Alyssa screamed. And so did Hillary, who cried out for God’s salvation.
The smoke was thickening.
The serpents were mounting.
And the spaces between the humans and the cobras were growing marginally thin with each passing moment, the humans having backed up to the sarcophagus that served as the centerpiece of the stage.
Soldiers swung their knives in sweeping arcs, whereas Savage continued to swing his weapon in a manic display.
Hillary, a man of desperation, saw the gleam of the staff within the body’s grasp and reached for it. Despite the futility of the moment, he considered it to be a formidable weapon.
