Domain. - Domain. Part 41
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Domain. Part 41

President Mark Richard Mailer raises the .45-caliber weapon to his own temple and fires.

Beneath the Kukulcan Pyramid Chichen Itza Michael Gabriel's consciousness is rising...

Rising directly above the square roof of the Kukulcan pyramid, jumping higher as the lush green Yucatan jungle kisses the blue waters of the Gulf....

A smooth leap into the stratosphere and the entire peninsula comes into view. Another leap-and the Western Hemisphere drops below, the sphere of the Earth appearing in his mind's window.

The utter silence of space...

Moving away faster now, Earth becoming a blue marble as the moon slingshots by. A quantum leap, and Earth disappears, replaced by the brightness of a yellow star, the entire solar system coming into view.

Time and space surging by at an unfathomable speed, Mick glimpsing the nine planets racing around the Sun in staggered orbits...

Another quantum leap, and the Sun becomes a pinprick of light, a single star among an ocean of stars.

Light-speed-the stars soaring by, dropping away faster and faster now, as luminescent clouds of interstellar gas and dust appear in his mind's eye.

A final leap and he slows, his consciousness staring at a spiral vortex of swirling stars so magnificent that its breathtaking brilliance, its scale, its omnipotence is almost too overwhelming to behold.

Mick feels his soul trembling as he gazes upon the Milky Way in its entirety, his mind drowning at the realization of his utter insignificance.

God. . . so beautiful...

Billions of stars, trillions of worlds, all part of a living cosmic organism-a churning island among the vast ocean of space.

Mick soaring above the galactic bulge, rising higher, until he is staring down upon the black heart of the Milky Way, a swirling vortex of unfathomable gravity, its orifice driving the galaxy as it inhales interstellar gas and dust into its monstrous mouth.

And then-in a blink of his mind's eye-the galaxy is transformed, reappearing in a perspective totally alien to his species, a fourth dimension of time and space.

The black hole becomes a radiant emerald funnel, its mouth dropping beneath the galaxy, constricting, until finally breaking away into an expanding cobweb of gravitational strings-a latticework of fourth-dimensional highways that spread out over the Milky Way like a slowly revolving net, never touching the other heavenly bodies-yet somehow touching them.

The information becomes too overwhelming for his brain to comprehend.

Mick blacks out.

When he reopens his eyes, he is gazing down upon one of the arms of the spiraling galaxy, a pattern-a constellation materializing as he moves nearer. Another leap forward and three stars appear-three stars set at a familiar alignment.

Al Nitak, Al Nilam, Mintaka ... the three belt stars of Orion.

Soaring ahead, he finds himself staring at a planet of behemoth proportions, its surface colored in a tapestry of deep greens and azure blues.

Xibalba. It is as if the thought is whispered into his consciousness.

A solitary moon orbits the alien world. As his consciousness passes over the lunar surface, he sees a transport ship rising from a small outpost, heading toward the planet's surface.

His mind hitches a ride.

The vessel dips below dense layers of atmospheric clouds, revealing a molten ocean of pure energy. The silvery, mirrorlike surface reflects the planet's magnificent cardinal red sky. Looming ahead on the southern horizon is a triple sunset, the blue-white binary star of Al Nitak the first to drop, its disappearance causing the seascape to meld into brilliant shades of lavender and magenta.

An exhilarating sensation washes over him as the transport ship races along the purple sea. Then he sees it-a mammoth continent of incredible beauty- soothing beaches surrounded by a lush tropical jungle, peppered with magnificent waterfalls, mountains, streams . . .

Moving closer, he sees a megalithic crystalline habitat of dazzling beauty. Sparkling alabaster pyramid-shaped structures dot the landscape, interconnected by winding walkways that weave through a futuristic, alien skyline. Below, lush, tropical gardens that would put Eden to shame grow amidst twisting rivers and cascading waterfalls of molten silver energy.

There are no moving vehicles, no traffic, yet the city is teeming with life. Tens of thousands of people-Homo sapiens, but for their elongated skulls, move about the hive of alien humanity with an overriding sense of purpose and joy.

For a wondrous moment, Mick's consciousness is bathed in love.

And then something monstrous happens.

As the distant fireball of Mintaka sets, the placid ocean begins churning. Ominous olive and bloodred clouds race across the darkening sky as the swirling vortex below builds to unfathomable proportions.

Mick watches as a lead gray ooze seeps out of the center of the maelstrom, the contaminated elixir inundating the pristine coastline, the tide rising higher, higher, until it infiltrates the city of the Nephilim.

His consciousness registers a demonic presence.

Darkness descends upon the city, spreading like the shadow of a great serpent upon the Edenlike world. Terrified humanoids drop to the ground, clutching their throats, their eyes transforming into vacant, pupilless pools of black.

The images overwhelm him. Once more, his consciousness blacks out.

Mick reopens his eyes.

What was once a civilization of magnificent beauty has now been transformed into a monstrous alien shipyard. Nephilim zombies, their faces ashen and expressionless, their eyes, vacant black holes, hover motionless in midair as their enslaved minds manipulate titanic iridium plates with invisible hands onto the skeletal framework of an ungodly seven-mile-diameter spherical hull. At the core of the vessel is a central pod-a one-mile-diameter nerve center equipped with twenty-three tubular limbs.

Situated within this sphere, harnessed amidst a myriad of alien conduits is a three-hundred-foot-long life-support pod. Mick focuses on the abominable object, recognizing it immediately.

Tezcatilpoca's chamber. . .

And then a deep chill washes over Mick's consciousness, as his mind's eye struggles to grasp the alien being emerging from within the vortex of the still-swirling maelstrom.

It is a serpent, but like none he has ever seen. The viperous face is more devil than beast, its pupils-vertical slits of gold, surrounded by incandescent crimson corneas more cybernetic than organic. The skull is as large as the mixer on a cement truck, the creature's girth as long as four city buses aligned bumper to bumper.

Mick's vantage changes as the serpent approaches the Nephilim complex. The jowls of the great beast open, revealing rows of ebony, scalpel-sharp teeth.

Stepping out from the serpent's jaws-a humanoid.

A shadow of death seems to pass over Mick's soul. He cannot see the man's face, the head and body being cloaked in a black shroud, but he knows he is gazing upon pure evil. The humanoid moves toward the life-support chamber, then extends an arm, pointing. Glowing within the man's hand is a jade object, about the size of a football.

The vermilion eyes of the serpent glitter, the golden pupils disappearing. The blinded creature, mesmerized by the small object, follows the cloaked being as if under a spell.

The beast enters the enormous life-support pod.

His mind's eye moves beyond the alien sphere and approaches the planet's surface. There are no traces of tropical jungles, no waterfalls, no Eden. Instead there are bodies-children's bodies, immersed in a solid layer of lead gray tar. A deep moan rises from his soul. The Nephilim young are alive, yet somehow not alive.

Mick's consciousness moves closer. He looks down upon the face of a young male child.

Jaundiced eyes flash open, staring back at him in haunting agony.

Mick's mind shuts down.

Once more, he finds himself orbiting Xibalba, his soul trembling as he observes an object rising from the planet's surface.

The sphere . . .

From the moon base appears another vessel, a sleek, gold star cruiser.

The Nephilim survivors race after their enemy, disappearing within the sphere's celestial tail.

Raven Rock Underground Command Center Maryland 2:27 A.M.

Pierre Borgia is standing in a pool of blood, pieces of President Mailer's brain tissue and skull splattered across his sleeve.

General Xiliang's face has turned deathly pale. The Chinese leader turns to his second-in-command. "Engage autodestruct."

Borgia turns to Viktor Grozny. "America's missiles have self-destructed. General Xiliang is complying. You only have four minutes left-"

Grozny's face is serene. "It is better to die in battle than suffer in misery. What will be gained by aborting the attack? The threat of nuclear annihilation grows stronger as our country grows weaker. The finality of war has a cleansing effect, and both our nations need to be cleansed."

The screen powers off.

A visibly shaken Dick Pryzstas enters the war room. "The Chinese missiles have self-destructed."

"What about Grozny's missiles?"

"Not a one, and we can't reach the vice president," Pryzstas says to Borgia. "Which means you're in charge. You've got three and a half minutes before several hundred nuclear warheads reach our coastlines."

"Damn that Russian bastard." Borgia paces, the words of Pete Mabus echoing in his ears. What this country needs now is strong leadership, not another dove like Chaney as second-in-command.

"Contact Strategic Command. Order our forces to launch every last ICBM, SLBM, and nuclear-tipped TLAM in our arsenal. I want that goddam motherfucker blown to hell."

Within the Guardian's sarcophagus Mick opens his eyes, startled to find himself standing on a hillside, overlooking a magnificent green tropical setting, a cascading silvery waterfall creating a rainbow, off in the distance.

A presence appears beside him. He is not afraid.

Mick looks up to face the large Caucasian. The man's long hair and beard are silky white, the eyes dazzling, an unearthly deep blue and penetrating, yet somehow kind.

Guardian ... am I dead?

There is no death, there are only varying states of consciousness. Your mind is looking through a window to a higher dimension.

Those humanoids- The Nephilim. Like your own species, we began as children of the third dimension, cosmic travelers, whose journeys led us to Xibalba. But the intoxications of this planet were a ruse, the world-a fourth-dimensional purgatory of wicked souls, its inhabitants' intentions-to use the Nephilim as a means of escape.

I don't understand. The Nephilim, those children. Are they- The minds of the Nephilim are held in stasis, their bodies enslaved by the souls of the condemned to complete their task-to send Tezcatilpoca through a fourth-dimensional passage into your solar system, to open a porthole leading to another third-dimensional world.

A porthole directly to Earth?

Not at first. The conditions on your world were not suitable. Having been exiled to Xibalba, the wicked ones can no longer exist in an oxygen environment. Their intended target was Venus. The brotherhood of the Guardian followed Tezcatilpoca through the fourth-dimensional corridor, causing its transport to crash-land on Earth. The life-support pod survived, Tezcatilpoca held in protective stasis. The Guardian remained behind to aid the ascension of your species and engineer the arrival of the Hunahpu.

Who are the Hunahpu?

The Hunahpu are messiah, genetically implanted among your species by the Guardian. Only a Hunahpu can enter the cosmic porthole and prevent the evil ones from contaminating your world. Only One Hunahpu possesses the strength to make the journey through time and space to free the souls of our ancestors.

The corridor, I can feel it opening.

The corridor appears once every precessional cycle. Only a Hunahpu can sense its arrival.

Wait-are you saying that I'm a Hunahpu?

Only a Hunahpu could have accessed the Guardian starship.

My God. . . Mick stares at the lush tropical surroundings splayed out before him, his exhausted mind fighting to comprehend the information being whispered into his consciousness.

Guardian, Tezcatilpoca's arrival-that impact occurred over sixty-five million years ago. How is it possible- Time is not consistent nor relevant across all dimensions. The brotherhood of the Guardian were the surviving leaders of the Nephilim-Osiris and Merlin, Viracocha and Vishnu, Kukulcan and Quetzalcoatl-all remained in stasis. This starship remained in orbit above your world, its array programmed to jam the enemy's signal. It was only during this last cycle that your species' evolution was sufficient to accept our seed. As such, we shut down the array, allowing the Xibalban radio signal to awaken Tezcatilpoca.

You allowed it to awaken Tezcatilpoca? Why? Why let this-this thing...

Tezcatilpoca harbors the porthole into the fourth-dimensional corridor. Once opened, the corridor can be used as a means to travel back into the Nephilim's past. Only One Hunahpu possesses the strength to make the journey and save the souls of our ancestors.

Has any Hunahpu ever attempted this journey?

Only one. It was at the time of the last precessional cycle, before the Great Flood. The brethren of the Guardian awoke from stasis and prepared one of your ancestors to access the Tezcatilpoca's cosmic porthole. As the portal opened, two of the Death God's Under Lords entered the corridor from Xibalba. They used trickery and deceit to defeat this first Hunahpu, but his bravery enabled the Guardian to acquire the transport vessel the wicked ones had used to travel through the Black Road, the fourth-dimensional corridor of time and space you are now suspended within.

This sarcophagus is a vessel?

Yes.

You said the first Hunahpu was defeated. What happened to the two Under Lords who escaped Xibalba?

The Guardian were able to reseal the portal before the Death God and his legion could make the journey through Xibalba Be, but the damage to your world was done. Evil became rooted within your garden.

What does that mean?

The two Under Lords remained on Earth, taking refuge within Tezcatilpoca's vessel. Although they remain within the fourth dimension, they have continued to exert their influence upon the minds of the weak, their strength increasing as four Ahau, three Kankin approaches.

My God. . . You exposed humanity to the Devil- It was necessary. There is more at stake than you can comprehend. One Hunaphu must make the journey through the Black Road to undo the damage that has been done. A greater destiny awaits us all.

Why should I believe you?

You have seen Tezcatilpoca, and it has seen you. There is no escape. It must be destroyed.

How? When will this One Hunahpu arrive?

Perhaps soon. Perhaps never. His destiny has not yet been chosen.

What the hell does that mean? Where is this Messiah of yours? What happens if he doesn't show up? And what about the Hero Twins, Hunahpu and Xbalanque? If the creation myth is true, then maybe they're the Ones. According to the Popol Vuh- No! The legend of the Twins is a Nephilim prophesy that may never come to pass. The birth and destiny of the Twins relies solely on One Hunahpu making the journey to Xibalba.

And if he never shows up?

Then your people will perish, as will ours.