The God Extinction

by Kevin Tumlinson

  From the right perspective, the owl’s face could appear to be a large and exaggerated skull.

  “Isn’t that …” Denzel hesitated, thinking. “That’s … that’s Ah-choo.”

  “Ah-Puch,” Kotler said quietly. He reached out a hand to trace the gold filament that formed the shape of the Mayan god of death.

  “My God,” Kotler said.

  They had encountered paintings and statues of Ah-Puch while investigating the murder of Maggie Hamilton, the Broadway star whose body had been discovered in a Mayan tomb. The name, Ah-Puch, had also been used for a biological weapon that could have been used to devastating effect. Kotler and Denzel had managed to stop it from being used for nefarious purposes and had helped in solving Maggie’s disappearance and murder.

  Ah-Puch was a bit hard to forget.

  But here, thousands of miles from Central America, he was in a place where he simply did not belong.

  “How did they know about this guy?” Denzel asked.

  Kotler shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s … it’s impossible.”

  He looked at the surrounding figures and was astonished to see dozens that he recognized from the Mayan and Aztec pantheons. Quetzalcoatl, Viracocha, Kukulkan. It was a whos-who of American gods, none of whom belonged on a wall in Egypt, thousands of years before the Americas were even discovered.

  Kotler had to make himself breathe. “It means that there really was a link between these cultures. These gods … they somehow knew and interacted with each other. This scene is from the conclusion of a battle. A summit of the gods, to bring peace.” Kotler shook his head again, then returned to his pack, retrieving a camera. He busied himself with documenting the wall, getting the details as well as wider shots, for context. He had Denzel hold the lights, to help bring out the details.

  After half an hour Kotler felt he’d captured as much of the mural as he could. There was still more to explore. “I’m just blown away,” he said, unable to be much more articulate on the subject.

  “Same here,” Denzel replied, and Kotler looked to see if his friend might be teasing him. But the expression on Denzel's face said a lot. The agent was no fool. He knew what this would mean for history as they knew it. Proof that ancient cultures knew of each other and interacted with each other. Evidence of an earlier civilization, advanced beyond anything modern archaeology had imagined. This was world-changing in its implications.

  “We’d better get going,” Denzel said. “We’re eating into our timeline. There’s bound to be more to find.”

  Kotler laughed. “Now you’re sounding like an archaeologist,” he said. They packed up and moved along, deeper into the path to the Otherworld.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Past the mural, around a bend in the path, the entire space opened into a wider chamber, about the size of a hotel lobby. The chamber was clearly hand-hewn, carved with ornate figures, runes, and more vignettes. Kotler was taken immediately by a statue depicting Danu, also known as Dana—the Celtic goddess who was the oldest and most beautiful among the Druidic pantheon, and the source of their name: Tuatha dé Danann.

  The people of Dana.

  Kotler stood straight, inspecting the room, suddenly realizing where they stood.

  “This is it,” he said to Denzel. “The Otherworld.”

  “Seems small,” Denzel said.

  Kotler shook his head. “It’s bigger than it looks. This is just an antechamber.” He looked around and spotted what he was after. “There,” he said, pointing.

  Denzel followed his gesture. Across the space, beyond the statuary and carvings, was an arch of stone mostly hidden from view by a screen composed of three large, golden panels. The beams of their flashlights played over the gold intaglio, highlighting its details.

  “See the motif? The treeing within a circle of its own branches? That’s the Celtic tree of life. And it’s etched across three panels.”

  “Three,” Denzel said. “You said three was an important number to the Druids. It’s a hint, right? Three deities?”

  “Exactly,” Kotler replied, grinning. “The inlay itself also hints at something important. The tree of life, in this depiction, is a grand oak. That's significant. Oak, ash, birch. These three, in particular, had great significance in Druidic practices. The name itself, ‘druid,’ is a derivation. The Celtic word for oak tree is ‘Duir.’ Combined with the Indo-European word for knowledge, ‘wid,’ we get ‘Duir-wid.’ Or ‘one with knowledge of the oak.’ Over time, as many phrases do, it became simply ‘Druid.’”

  He looked up to see Denzel studying the intaglio, nodding along. For once Kotler’s partner wasn’t annoyed with his proclivity for sharing the minutia of history. Emboldened, Kotler continued.

  “This inlay is important for another reason, particular to its placement here,” he said. “The Druids believed that trees provided tethers between the Otherworld and Earth. Those panels represent a gateway.”

  “Kotler, are you telling me that on the other side of those panels is some kind of magic portal to another world?”

  Kotler chuckled. “Magic? I can’t say. The world is full of mysteries, so I can’t exactly discount the idea. But I can say that there’s a good chance we’re going to find something pretty amazing on the other side of that screen.”

  Denzel considered that. “Ok,” he said. “So what do we do?”

  “We go investigate,” Kotler grinned.

  Standing before the panels, just inches from them, Kotler was taken by their immense size. Rising from the floor to the ceiling, they were perhaps ten feet tall, and each was about four feet wide. Kotler leaned in, shining his flashlight over the details of the screens, illuminating the twists and turns of the roots and branches of the tree of life. Each ultimately curved to meet the other, indicating the circular nature of existence, and the relationship between life and the afterlife, in Druidic culture.

  Kotler ran his fingers over the seams between the screens.

  “That’s … unexpected,” he said.

  “What is it?” Denzel asked, leaning in to see for himself.

  “I think … it looks like there are no locks or other means to secure these. I can’t find any latches. They look as if we could just push them open.”

  “So, what, they’re just waiting for you to open them? What does that mean?”

  Kotler shook his head. He wasn’t sure what it meant. Perhaps the builders of this place had decided that anyone who found it would be worthy. It seemed unfathomable, after all the elaborate mechanisms and security measures found at the Credne site. But as Kotler inspected the panels, he found nothing to indicate that he and Denzel, or anyone else, would be barred from entering.

  He reached out and pushed the center panel.

  It moved, slowly but with some minor resistance, similar to pushing on a spring-hinged door. And as Kotler looked at the widening seam, he realized that was precisely what this was. Shining his light into the gap, he could see layered strips of brass, bulging and flexing with the movement of the door, like the suspension of an old truck bed. These were ancient leaf springs—technology that no culture should have even imagined prior to the eighteenth century. He had Denzel move the panel while Kotler shot video of the springs in action.

  The astounding finds were piling up at this site, while the assumptions about history and technology and human development were starting to fall by the wayside.

  Kotler passed the beam of his flashlight into the space beyond the screen and saw that a path curved out of sight ahead.

  “It’s symbolic,” he smiled.

  “Symbolic?” Denzel asked.

  Kotler looks up at him. “The screen. It’s a tether. The tree of life. A gateway to the Otherworld. Passing through this means we’re there. We’re entering the realm of the Tuatha dé Danann. The realm of the gods.”

  “And we’re sure there are no acid gods or pointing spike gods or some other nasty thing waiting for us to walk through there?” Denzel asked.

&
nbsp; Kotler laughed. “There may be, but I don’t think so. It’s the tree of life, not the tree of acid burns and impalement.” He swept his flashlight beam over the room around them. “Look at this place. There was some event that inspired this. It was a time of peace, among the gods and their peoples. Maybe a peace brokered in war, but from what I’m seeing they came to some sort of agreement. A truce, perhaps. I think this place is a memorial to it.”

  “So you think it should be fine to pass through here,” Denzel said.

  “I do,” Kotler nodded. “You game?”

  “Ready when you are,” Denzel replied, cinching the straps of his pack a bit tighter.

  Kotler smiled, and led the way, passing through the gap in the screens and into the curving corridor beyond.

  They walked for only a few moments before the path took a series of sharp turns, veering at right angles to their left and then their right, and then opening wider than either of them had expected. The stone of the mountain fell away around them, and the air and energy, even the sound, suddenly changed. Kotler felt an ionic charge on his skin, and the exhilaration of fresh oxygen hitting his longs.

  They shut off their flashlights. There was no need for them.

  The chamber ahead of them was filled with light.

  “What the hell …” Denzel said quietly, reverently.

  Kotler shook his head, unable to even speak, his mind struggling to make sense of the vastness, the impossibility, of what lay in front of him.

  The scene before them was a valley, stretching off into a horizon that was nearly invisible, not merely for its great distance but for the foliage and growth that obscured their view.

  Before them was a valley of lush and vibrant green.

  Kotler looked up to the ceiling and could just make out a dotted landscape of bright spots of light, as if the stars had suddenly come closer to the Earth, filling the canopy of the sky with increased brightness. A thousand small suns, bringing daylight into the depths of the mountain, feeding the life here with their light and their warmth.

  “Quartz,” Kotler said. It felt like a whisper, though he'd said it aloud. The sound here was white noise, quiet but filling the space, eliminating any hint of echo or reverberation. He hadn't quite worked out what it was, he was so distracted by the presence of light. “Quartz portals,” he continued. “Like those we found at the Credne site, and at the brass hall. My God, look at it!”

  “Look at all of it,” Denzel said, marveling. He was turning slowly, taking in the view of the underground forest. “How can this stuff be growing down here? That’s … are those oak trees?”

  Kotler, startled, looked closer at the trees for the first time. Denzel was right. Near them was a standing oak, rising high into the vaulted chamber, its branches spread wide.

  It wasn’t the only anomalous tree. From what Kotler could see there were stands of birch and ash, as well as a few varieties he didn’t recognize. And among them were plants that did not belong in this region—brush and vines that were more at home in the ranges of Ireland than here in the deserts of Egypt.

  “There must be some underground water source,” Kotler said. He listened for a moment. “Can you hear that? It sounds like … maybe rapids? A waterfall?”

  “I hear it,” Denzel said. “I’m just not sure I believe it.” He looked at Kotler, a smile plastered on his face. “This is it, isn’t it? This is the Otherworld.”

  “A literal place,” Kotler grinned, shaking his head. “It’s just unbelievable.”

  “Believe it,” a man’s voice said from the tree line.

  Kotler and Denzel turned, startled, and then slowly raised their hands.

  From the impossible forest before them, two figures emerged, each wielding sidearms. One of the figures was an Egyptian soldier—one of Sarraf’s men who must have escaped the firefight above.

  No, Kotler realized. He looked and saw that the man had been the second solider on the rock shelf. The one who had leapt out into the ravine as the truck fell. His rope must have saved him.

  Kotler also recognized the second man.

  “Nesahor,” Kotler said.

  “It is good to see you again, Dr. Kotler,” Nesahor said. “Welcome to the Otherworld.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Kotler and Denzel were forced to kneel with their hands behind their heads as the soldier relieved them of their packs. He rifled through these and was delighted to discover the energy bars and water bottles. He delivered these to Nesahor, and the two of them began eating ravenously.

  “It’s remarkable, isn’t it?” Nesahor said, chewing on a bite of an energy bar and indicating the underground valley with a wave. He finished chewing and swallowing before he continued. “Not quite what the Alihat Iadida were expecting, I will confess. There is still much to explore here, but thus far I have found no sign of gods or items of power. Still, the site itself represents quite a find.”

  “And nothing that would benefit your organization,” Kotler said. “The Egyptian military will never allow you to claim this site.”

  Nesahor shook his head. “Sadly, no. You are correct. But there are other sites. Other paths to take. This one had great promise, but we can accept that it may be lost to us. For now. You would be surprised how easy it is to gain a foothold in even the Egyptian government. Over time, I am certain that we can regain access to this place if we deem it necessary."

  “So what now?” Denzel asked. “Kill us?”

  Nesahor laughed. “Certainly not. Not unless you force me to. I intend to trade you.”

  “Trade us?” Kotler asked. “For what?”

  “For our freedom, of course,” Nesahor said. “You are hostages.”

  Kotler laughed. “I think you overestimate the value the Egyptian government places on us,” he said.

  “On you, perhaps,” Nesahor nodded. “But Agent Denzel is another matter. They will want to avoid an international incident. So he is our hostage. You …” Nesahor considered Kotler. “You are leverage.”

  “You got a problem then,” Denzel said. “Neither the Egyptian government nor the US government negotiates with terrorists.”

  Nesahor laughed. “Terrorists? Please, Agent Denzel. At worst we are thieves. At any rate, I am confident the authorities will grant my request for a vehicle, thinking they’ll simply track my movements via satellite.”

  “But you have another way out, don’t you?” Kotler asked.

  “Of course,” Nesahor said. “I made arrangements before entering the Otherworld.”

  Kotler turned to the soldier, who was happily munching his second energy bar. He hadn't spoken once since they'd been captured. Thinking back on his previous encounter with the man, Kotler realized the only time the soldier had spoken in his presence, he hadn't used English. It was possible he couldn't even speak the language.

  In Arabic, Kotler said, “And what of you? What do you believe Nesahor will do with you, when we get to the surface? He has made arrangements. And he plans to offer us in trade for his freedom. You are Egyptian military … do you believe they’ll allow you to simply leave, after what you have done?”

  The soldier stopped in mid-chew, considering. He turned to Nesahor, a realization dawning on him. He drew his weapon.

  Nesahor, his sidearm already out and at the ready, turned and aimed reflexively at the solider.

  Kotler and Denzel both moved, each knowing the other would pick up on the situation and their options.

  They sprang, each tackling the man closest to them even as the soldier’s sidearm was fired. The sound of the gunshot was loud but died almost immediately in the white noise of the forest valley.

  Kotler was on top of the soldier, wrestling him to the ground, punching him while pressing his gun hand to the soil. The man regained some of his composure and fought back with notable effort. Kotler concentrated on getting him to release the pistol, slamming his hand against the packed soil and stone of the valley floor.

  Suddenly there was another shot fired, cl
ose enough to be startling, and Kotler and the solider both froze in mid-struggle.

  “Get up,” Denzel’s voice said from over Kotler’s shoulder.

  Kotler turned his head to see his friend standing with Nesahor’s gun trained in their general direction. Kotler relieved the soldier of his weapon and climbed to his feet.

  The soldier had his hands raised above his head and slowly rose from the ground. Denzel motioned for him to move to where Nesahor was kneeling, and to join the doctor on that spot.

  “You should not have eaten my energy bars, pal.”

  Kotler tucked the soldier’s pistol into his belt, retrieved their packs, and found a roll of bright orange Paracord inside. He fished the multi-tool out of his pocket, and cut lengths of the cord, then tied each man’s hands behind him as Denzel covered him.

  Secretly Kotler was relieved that he’d finally gotten to use the multi-tool. He folded it closed, bounced it in his palm, and then tucked it back into his pocket.

  Once the work of securing their prisoners was done, Denzel relaxed and lowered his weapon.

  Kotler stood in front of Nesahor, looking down on the man. Nesahor met his gaze, contempt plain on his face.

  “I know a bit about your background,” Kotler said. “I read up on you, before leaving camp to come here. I was curious about your history, about how you might have gotten involved with the Alihat Iadida. You have a long and lettered history. Papers published in some of the most prestigious journals in the world. You’ve done so much good in this field, helped solve so many riddles. What is it about the Alihat Iadida that would make you throw away all of your credibility, all of your accomplishments?”

  Nesahor laughed. “Accomplishments? We have been scratching in the dirt for hundreds of years, Dr. Kotler, and we have barely begun to uncover our real heritage. But there is something that lies under the gilded surface of history. The gods were real. Whether they were beings of mystical power or an advanced race of humans, I cannot say. But I have seen their footprints with my own eyes. I have felt their presence, just at the edge of our awareness. Their extinction from this world left a void. One that the Alihat Iadida—the New Gods—will fill.”