The Mayan Resurrection

14

3:02 a.m.

Bloodred subterranean sky. Searing-hot wind. Dark clouds churn, their speed surreal.

Below, an alien lake smolders, its mirrorlike surface lapping upon an ominous shoreline.

Jacob approaches the alabaster tree, its trunk as wide as a sequoia’s.

An icy fog announces the Abomination. The mist swirls about the trunk of the tree, and then a pair of bright azure-blue eyes twinkle back at him through the haze.

‘Come closer, Cousin. Let me lick your wounds.’

With a bloodcurdling scream, Jacob Gabriel launches from his bed and darts into the hallway.

Dominique yanks open her bedroom door. ‘Oh, Jesus, another night terror?’

The door across from Jacob’s bedroom opens. Immanuel stares at his brother. Shakes his head. ‘Again?’

Jacob pants, trying to find his voice. ‘Just wait… you’ll go through the same thing someday.’

‘I doubt it. But until then, why don’t you move your bed into the training center.’

Dominique turns to the dark-haired twin. ‘Manny, go back to sleep.’

Immanuel slams the door, bolting it from the inside.

Dominique moves to comfort Jacob, but he pushes her away.

‘Jake-’

‘No. I need to stay strong… for all of us.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’m going for a walk to clear my head.’

‘It’s three in the morning. Jacob Gabriel, don’t you ignore me.’

The back door opens and slams shut.

Dominique’s eyes tear up, her heart aching for the son who has refused to hug her since he was seven years old.

A tropical gust greets Jacob as he races down to the beach. Lunar light from the three-quarter moon dances across the Gulf, illuminating the breaking crests.

Jacob kneels in the cool sand. Closes his eyes. Tries to meditate, desperate to communicate again with his father.

For a brief moment he breathes quietly, then his chest constricts and his body is overtaken by sobs, the tears pouring from his eyes as he collapses facefirst against the wet sand.

Stop it! You need to stay strong!

The wind dies down, yielding to a haunting echo.

Jacob wipes his face, then looks around, searching for the source of the sound.

The high-pitched moan leads him north. He follows the shoreline another quarter mile, and then he sees them.

The animals are everywhere, lined up along the beach like giant logs. Grays and humpbacks, right whales and blues, adults and calves… the dead and the dying.

Jacob approaches the largest of the beached mammals. The blue whale’s head, as big as a tractor trailer, is half-covered in sand, the remains of its 105-ton girth disappearing behind it into the Gulf.

The teenager reaches up and brushes sand from the female’s eye, then jumps back when it opens.

A thunderous snort as the dying whale gasps a breath through its blowhole.

A moment passes between them as beast and boy contemplate one another. It’s like it wants to communicate. Maybe it can? Jacob Gabriel closes his eyes, entering the nexus.

The night dawns olive green in his vision. Every muscle in his six-foot, 183-pound muscular frame seems to come alive, every vessel in his body pulsating with blood and adrenaline, every sensation magnified. Looking up, he sees stars racing across the heavens, the cosmos coming alive.

The whale moans, its dying gasp echoing in his brain.

Leaning forward, Jacob places both palms against the blubbery torso, registering deep, intense reverberations as his hands become a living stethoscope. The mammal’s pulse draws him closer, as a white haze envelops his mind – yielding to another vision.

An ominous scarlet sky casts its surreal light upon a man-made reservoir, its waters resembling liquid mercury.

The exotic waters churn. Emerging from the surface is the viperous upper torso of a serpentlike creature, as wide and as long as a train. The horrible being’s eyes regard Jacob through vertical slits of gold, surrounded by incandescent crimson corneas more cybernetic than organic. The jowls part, revealing rows of ebony, scalpel-sharp teeth.

A thunderous snort causes Jacob to jump backward as the serpent expels a stench-laden breath through its synthetic nostrils.

Jacob opens his eyes. The vision is over.

The blue whale is dead.

Belle Glade, Florida October 28, 2027

Fourteen-year-old Lilith Eve Robinson’s high cheekbones and brilliant Hunahpu blue eyes are accentuated by cocoa skin and waist-length wavy black hair. Her athletic figure is long and supple, her shapely breasts firm and far more developed than those of most girls in her class.

The adolescent beauty always rides home alone on the bus, occupying the same aisle seat. Every heterosexual teenage boy imagines himself with Lilith, still none ask her out-too freaked-out about her animated conversations with her invisible friends.

Facing the window, Lilith shrugs at Brandy. ‘It’s Jacob’s stupid mother. If she or Jacob ever found out when I was really born, he’d never speak to me again.’

That’s just silly, girl. You love Jacob, and Jacob loves you. Do you believe it’s your destiny to be together?

‘Yes.’

Then forget about Jacob’s mother and make it happen. Here’s your stop. I’ll see you tomorrow.

The school activity bus pulls over to the curb and stops.

Lilith climbs down the bus steps, then heads for Quenton’s house. She is not involved in after-school activities, but she is never in any hurry to return home to her guardian.

Regina Johnson chases after her. ‘Hey, Robinson, wait!’

Lilith continues walking.

Regina catches up. ‘Who were you talking to on the bus?’

‘Brandy.’

‘Brandy who?’

Lilith walks faster.

‘Hey, wait. I’ve got some killer weed. Wanna get high?’

‘What is it you want, Regina Johnson?’

‘Lighten up, girl, I just wanna get to know you better.’

‘Why?’

The strawberry blonde smiles. ‘You goin’ to Brett’s party with anyone?’

‘No.’

‘Why don’t you come with me?’ Gina’s fingertips slide across Lilith’s moving buttocks.

Lilith stops dead in her tracks. ‘I’m not into girls.’

‘That’s not what I heard.’

‘Yeah? And what have you heard?’

‘I dunno. It’s just… you know-you’re so pretty, and I never see you with any boys.’

‘Don’t believe everything you hear. I have a boyfriend, he just doesn’t live around here.’

‘Oh. Well, aren’t you even a little bi-curious?’

‘I have to go.’

‘Wait. Cut through the woods with me. We’ll share a quick joint, you know, as friends. Unless you’re in a rush to get home.’

Regina heads for the woods, Lilith in tow.

Longboat Key, Florida

Immanuel Gabriel is alone in the SOSUS lab when his Aunt Evelyn knocks on the open door. ‘Mind if I join you?’

The dark-haired twin doesn’t bother looking up. ‘Jake’s not here.’

‘Actually, I wanted to speak with you.’

‘What for?’

She approaches, using a cane to support her arthritic left hip. ‘What are you working on?’

‘I’m charting a new whale migration pattern.’

‘May I listen?’

Immanuel plugs in a set of headphones, then passes them to the old woman.

‘There’s so many of them. Such godly creatures.’

‘I’m not like him, you know.’

‘I know.’

‘He drives me crazy.’

‘Your brother can be… intense.’

‘He’s a nut job. Why do you humor him?’

‘Maybe I’m a nut job, too.’

Immanuel smiles. ‘Hey, wanna see something cool?’ Evelyn waits patiently as the teenager pulls up an image on screen of a four-legged oversize ratlike animal. ‘See this creature? It’s called a Pakicetid. It’s actually a prehistoric whale.’

‘That’s a whale?’

‘Well, it was the ancestor of whales. For some unknown reason, Pakicetids returned to live in the sea about 50 million years ago. They eventually lost their fur, which was replaced with thick layers of insulated blubber. Nature even repositioned their nostrils on top of their heads so they could breathe easier.’

Evelyn smiles at the teenager. ‘You really have a deep love for whales, don’t you?’

‘I suppose.’ He advances the page. ‘Look here. This is Rodhocetus , the first species of whale with a true fluke and blowhole.’

‘That is amazing. Whales have really come a long way, haven’t they?’

‘Uh-huh.’ Immanuel continues the program. ‘Modern cetaceans eventually split into two different suborders. Baleen whales, like blues and humpbacks, have no teeth. Toothed whales, like sperm whales and orcas, remained predators, developing a sense called echolocation.’

‘Echolocation? Is that those high-pitched clicking sounds?’

‘Exactly. My grandma says the clicks allow toothed whales to see things using sound. By listening to the returning echoes, the mammals can navigate through their environment, seeing things we could never register with our own eyes.’

‘Sort of like a built-in sonar, huh?’

‘That’s right. Echolocation gives whales x-ray vision. Grandma says a dolphin or whale can detect a shark swimming hundreds of meters away, using its echolocation to see right into its belly to determine if it’s fed recently.’

‘Does your grandmother know why there are so many whales migrating into the Gulf of Mexico?’

‘It’s the anomaly.’

‘Anomaly? What anomaly?’

‘The one she detected in the Chicxulub Crater. It’s screwing up the whales’ sense of direction.’

‘I don’t understand?’

‘Inside a whale’s brain are these things called magnetite crystals. Whales navigate by tuning in to the Earth’s magnetic force fields. It’s sort of like having a built-in compass. The magnetic anomaly in the Gulf is scrambling their compasses, confusing them. That’s why a lot of them are beaching. My grandpa Julius, he knew all about whales, too.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘It’s in his journal.’ The teen types in another command, causing a new home page to appear on screen.

THE JOURNAL OF JULIUS GABRIEL

Your grandfather’s memoirs?’

‘Uh-huh. Jake transferred everything to audio disk. Computer, recite Journal Entry 722.’

JOURNAL E NTRY #722

RECORDED ON THE N AZCA P LATEAU, N AZCA, P ERU.

JANUARY 17, 1993.

The computerized voice of the late Julius Gabriel crackles from behind the surround-sound speakers:

Of all the zoomorphs engraved in the desert pampa, perhaps the most bizarre are those of the three Nazca whales, each mammal drawn distinctly different from the next.

I shall begin with the oldest of the lot, a thirty-foot specimen possessing an enormous fluke and four leglike appendages. Although several of my colleagues regard the addition of these strange appendages as ‘artistic license,’ I disagree, believing our ancient artist had something different in mind.

Paleontologists have determined that modern whales descended from an extinct giant rodentlike land mammal called a Pakicetid. This terrestrial creature mysteriously walked back into the sea on all fours sometime after the asteroid strike that led to the extinction of the dinosaurs. In the 25 million years that followed, evolution succeeded in transforming this land mammal into an ocean dweller.

Equally mystifying is a strange object that was drawn below the ancient cetacean’s lower jaw. Most of my peers have identified this feature as the mammal’s spout. Here I disagree emphatically. Anatomically speaking, a whale’s blowhole is part of its dorsal surface, yet this object has clearly been drawn below the creature’s lower jaw. My colleagues’ rebuttal to these inarguable facts is simply to shrug the matter off, crediting it to a mistake made by the artist.

Mistake? The ancient Nazca icons and geometric figures are inhumanly precise. Was the creator of these drawings capable of such a grievous error? I think not.

My theory, improbable as it sounds, is that the circular object was meant to represent a form of communication. I believe the creator of the Nazca drawings was able to communicate with these ancient whales, and the artist clearly wanted us to know it.

‘Computer, end program.’ Immanuel looks up at the old woman. ‘Well?’

‘Well what?’

‘Do you think the Guardian communicated with whales?’

‘Honestly, I have no idea.’

‘Jake thinks they did. Last night he was out on the beach and… ah, never mind. It’s stupid.’

‘What’s stupid?’

‘Nothing. I have to go.’

‘Wait, Manny, before you leave, I wanted to ask you a question.’

‘Just one?’

‘Are you happy?’

‘Are you?’

‘I try to be.’

Immanuel looks away. ‘I hate it here. It’s like being in prison. Mom’s paranoid-she never lets me leave, and Jake is a jerk, always acting like some goddam drill seargent. All he cares about is his stupid fantasies.’

‘It must be hard on you.’

‘It’s harder on her. He treats our mother like crap.’

‘Why do you say that? I’ve never seen him lose his temper with her.’

‘He treats her with indifference. Like he’s afraid to love her, or anyone, for that matter. My brother’s all business.’

‘Do you believe any of his stories? You know, the Mayan myths about the Hero Twins.’

‘You’re not serious?’

‘You know, I think you really love Jake a lot. I also think the two of you are a lot more alike than you let on.’

‘Don’t say that. You think I want to end up like him?’

‘No, but I think you have a good heart, Manny.’ She touches his chest with her palm. ‘Let it be your guiding light.’

Belle Glade, Florida October 28, 2027 11:17 p.m.

They can hear the heavy bass from the speakers pounding a block away.

‘Don’t be nervous,’ Regina says. ‘Just let yourself go.’

Lilith tugs nervously at her violet skintight top, trying to hide the bulge of her protruding nipples. ‘I wish you would have let me wait for Brandy.’

‘Forget about Brandy for one night. Tonight you’re with me.’

‘If Quenton saw me dressed like this, he would… well-’

‘Relax. Your grandfather’s asleep.’

‘You mean passed out.’

Regina takes her hand. ‘Just stick with me.’

The party is in full swing by the time they arrive. Cars are parked everywhere, in the driveway, on the street, and atop the lawn. A multiracial mix of teens flow in and out of the two-storey stucco and stone home, the night air drenched with the scent of beer and marijuana.

All eyes stare at Lilith as she follows Regina inside.

Strobe lights and heavy-metal music greet her, along with a wall of moving bodies.

‘Gina-hey, glad you made it!’ Brett Longley pushes his way towards them.

‘Hey, Brett. You know Lilith.’

‘Uh, sure, I’ve seen her around school. Hey, Lilith.’

‘Hi.’

‘Yeah, let’s get high.’ Gina places a white pill on her tongue, then turns to Lilith.

Brett watches the two girls French-kiss. ‘Damn. Save some of that for me.’

October 29, 2027 2:15 a.m.

Lilith is numb.

Numb is easy. Numb requires no emotions. No thinking. An occasional breath. Just open wide for a probing tongue and the numbness comes.

I’m a popular object…

Lilith lies back on the couch between Regina and Ron Ley.

Ron is tall. Ron is a senior. Ron plays varsity basketball and runs track.

Ron is white. Ron is cool.

Ron is horny. Lilith can feel his erection every time he leans over to steal a kiss.

‘Lilith, finish my beer.’

No more beer. More beer means throwing up, and throwing up makes the headaches come back.

Lilith takes the beer from Ron and drains it.

Ron likes me. Ron thinks I’m cool. Jacob will be so jealous.

Regina passes out on Lilith’s lap.

Across the smoke-filled room, Dante Adams drains his beer. Dante has been eyeing Lilith for hours.

Dante is horny.

Dante is a predator.

Ron kisses Lilith again. Squeezes her breasts way too hard, then takes her hand and leads her into the nearest bedroom.

Don’t do this, Lilith! She tries to pull away, but all resistance is gone.

So you’re dumb. Just be numb. At least you’re cool.

Dante follows them inside.

‘Don’t-’

‘Come on, baby-’

‘No… Ron, please don’t-’

‘I don’t like being teased.’

‘I wasn’t teasing.’

‘Fine. If you won’t let me put it in you, then just suck it.’

Brandy appears over Ron’s shoulder. Just do it. It’s easier than fighting him.

Lilith opens her mouth. Inhales a whiff of his manhood. Chokes back a gag reflex, then pukes all over Ron’s basketball sneakers.

‘Ugh… you stupid bitch!’ Ron slaps her hard across the face.

Too wasted to feel the pain and too high to locate the nexus, Lilith squeezes her eyes shut and sucks on the blood oozing from her lower lip.

Dante moves closer. ‘I’ll spread her legs. You do her first… then it’s my turn.’

6:15 a.m.

Lilith staggers home just before sunrise. Her lower lip is swollen, her cheek bruised. Her shirt is torn. She is missing her shoes.

Lilith is no longer numb.

Lilith is sober.

Lilith is ready to die.

She sneaks around back and enters the kitchen. Hears Quenton snoring.

Quietly, she roots through a kitchen drawer. Locates the steak knife.

She enters Quenton’s bedroom. Sees the old man passed out on the floor. Enters the master bathroom. Stares at the tub and the razor blades lined up in the soap dish. Contemplates. Decides against running the bathwater for fear of waking her grandfather.

Lilith enters the walk-in closet. Tugs on the dangling ceiling chain, retracting the wooden step-ladder from the attic. Climbs up into the crawl space, searching for solitude.

Lilith hates the attic. As a four-year-old, Lilith feared the attic.

This morning, the attic is a refuge, a point of no return.

Dawn shines in from the cracked hexagon of glass.

Lilith stares at the veins of her wrists. She is not afraid to die, but she is afraid of the pain. Pain means noise, and noise could awaken Quenton.

She looks around for a towel or shirt, something to stuff in her mouth and bite down upon while she opens her veins.

She sits up, wincing at the sharp twinge shooting through her swollen rectum. She thinks about contacting Jacob, but feels too ashamed. He’ll think I’m a slut.

Her azure-blue eyes skirt the attic, pausing at an unrecognized cardboard box. She reaches over and opens it.

Curiosity captures her attention. It is her mother’s personal effects.

She removes the dusty photo album and opens the torn book flap, accidentally spilling half the unbound contents.

A yellowed black-and-white photo of her mother and father taking their wedding vows.

A legal document signifying Madelina Aurelia’s adoption by her foster parents, the Moreheads.

Madelina’s second-grade report card-all As.

A few disturbing watercolor paintings. Several more photos of her mother as a teen.

She fingers the sealed manila envelope. Tearing away the yellowed tape, she reaches inside, removing several old newspaper clippings and a black-and-white photo of a frightening old man.

On the back of the photo is scrawled: Uncle Don Rafelo.

She unfolds the aged newspaper clippings. Each story concerns her great-uncle, reputed to be a Nagual -a powerful Mexican witch.

Lilith reads, her schizophrenic mind absorbing the information like a sponge.