The Mayan Resurrection

33

Thursday Morning

Lauren Beckmeyer is exhausted.

It is not the kind of exhaustion she ordinarily relishes from her physical training. This is something she has never experienced, the kind of overwhelming fatigue that comes from being a fugitive. Perpetually draining, it refuses to allow her mind to rest, her fraught nerves to settle.

It is exhaustion based on the fear of death.

For the last thirty-six hours the track star has been ducking through back streets and alleyways, hiding in shadows-avoiding people. She cannot go to her apartment. She cannot contact her parents or friends, fearing the men who murdered Professor Gabeheart will come after her loved ones, just as they are coming after her. She has not eaten, since the purchase of food requires identity scans, and hers has been excised.

Lauren doesn’t know who the enemy is, but she has her suspicions. Late the previous night, as she lay alone on the beach, her mind had finally quieted enough to piece things together.

Whoever wanted Gabeheart silenced feared the professor might learn the truth about Yellowstone’s caldera. To resort to murder means pressure within the caldera system must be building, which means an eruption is imminent.

The last eruption in Yellowstone led to an ice age. If this next one is anywhere near as devastating… oh, Jesus!

Lauren did not sleep, the threat to her own life suddenly overshadowed by the thought of a super volcanic winter. Somehow she had to get a warning to the public. Somehow she had to make the world listen while there was still time to act… assuming there was still time and there was another course of action.

But who would listen to her? She was a nobody, someone who could easily be snatched away before the first television camera could be turned on. And what proof did she really have?

But there was someone the media would listen to, someone they wanted to interview, someone who received more news coverage than any scientist, any geology student ever could.

Lauren needed to find Sam.

Lauren watches the Student Medical Center side entrance from her vantage behind a row of shrubs. Her hair is slicked back with water and tucked under a baseball cap.

She crosses the street, blending in with a family as they enter the facility. She follows a crowded corridor, then waits in line to access an automated hospital help station.

Presses PATIENT DIRECTORY. ‘Kirk Peacock’s room.’

KIRK PEACOCK IS LOCATED IN ROOM 310, BED B. HAVE A NICE DAY.

She looks around, bypassing the elevator for the stairs.

Kirk Peacock is lying in bed, his drooling mouth open, his eyes cloaked behind a virtual-reality headpiece. Lauren takes a seat by his bed, averting her eyes as a robonurse enters and changes his IV bag.

‘Kirk. Hey, Kirk!’ She knocks on the VR helmet, then yanks it off his head.

‘Cut the fubitchshitting… Lauren? Hey… what’re you doing here?’

‘I came to see you. You feeling okay?’

‘Fuck no. Got needles and tubes comin’ outta my bunghole. Haven’t done a leech in days. They took my contacts, my body piercings, my hair’s growing in over my ’too, and my father’s making me restain my pigment flesh tone. Life blows.’

‘Yeah. Kirk, I need a favor. I need to get away for a few days. I’ll trade you my car for your Amphibian.’

‘Your ’Vette? You on meds?’

‘It’s just for a few days. I promise I’ll take good care of it.’

‘Sink it for all I care. Belongs to my old man. Fubitchshittingasswipe.’

‘What’s your access code?’

‘Access code… damn… oh yeah.’ He holds up his bare foot. Tattooed to his heel is KP-3757-D.

Lauren memorizes the code. ‘Thanks, Kirk, I owe you. When do they let you out?’

‘ Shifubitchin’ know-it-all tin can mechanical doctor ordered another blood scrub. I told that trash can she can suck my plasma only if she replaces it with BLISS. Ha-ha… hey, ’renman, where you going?’

Hangar 13, Kennedy Space Center,

Cape Canaveral, Florida

Thursday Afternoon

Immanuel Gabriel loses his thoughts in the psychiatrist’s eyes, watching them shift from hazel to green in the overhead lights. The man’s hair is brown and spiked, the cleft lip and telltale scars along the jaw line revealing recent reconstructive surgery.

‘You sure don’t look like a psychiatrist.’

Mike Snyder smiles. ‘And what should a psychiatrist look like?’

‘I don’t know… more scholarly, I suppose. What happened to your face?’

‘Battle scars. I double as one of your brother’s sparring partners. At least I used to. He’s way beyond us mere mortal foes these days.’

Immanuel sits up in the lounge chair, his head still woozy from the sedative. ‘So you’re Jake’s psychiatrist? Bet he plays head games with you.’

‘Only all the time. On occasion he might let something slip, but usually he only confides in Dr. Mohr or Grand Master Xiong. Jacob’s very sure of himself. Even as a fourteen-year-old, he always came across as if he knew exactly who he was and what he needed out of life. And he’s not one to lose his cool.’

‘Unlike me.’

Dr. Snyder grins. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. If someone told me I was getting on that spaceship bound for God-knows-where, I’d have popped a few too many meds, too. What you can’t do is allow yourself to be drawn into your brother’s psychosis.’

‘Psychosis?’ Immanuel perks up. ‘Then you don’t believe this whole Mayan Hero thing?’

‘Do I believe you and Jake are unique individuals-absolutely. Do I believe the two of you were somehow the subject of a Mesoamerican tale written five hundred years ago? No.’

‘But Jake believes it.’

‘Jake’s mind absorbs everything like a sponge. Unfortunately, this Mayan mythology thing has been ingrained into his psyche since birth. It’s become part of his dementia and his persona, and it’s now impossible to separate the two.’

‘But… I heard my father’s voice.’

‘Think about it, Manny. Where were you at the time?’

‘In a holograph suite… programmed by my brother, that cocksucker! But wait, the Guardian’s starship-how can you deny that?’

‘Who’s denying it? An ancient alien spaceship was excavated from Mexico. From what I’m told, it’s been buried for at least ten thousand years. Is it one of the greatest, if not the greatest discovery in man’s brief history? Absolutely. Does its existence have anything to do with your late father? Probably, since he was the one who discovered it.’

‘Then you don’t believe Jake and I are destined to board that ship and leave orbit in four days?’

‘In that ship?’ Dr. Snyder snorts a half laugh. ‘Listen, Dr. Mohr believes in this Mayan nonsense as much as Jacob, but even he’ll tell you those engines haven’t been fired in thousands of years, and trust me, it’s not like NASA hasn’t been trying. The only way that old clunker’s leaving orbit is if we strap it to one of our new Mars transports and tow her into space.’

A huge smile breaks across Immanuel’s face, tears of relief flooding his eyes. ‘Doc, I could kiss you.’

‘Save it for your mother. She’s the one who needs it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Jake may be a cold fish when it comes to his feelings, but your mother’s torn up inside. Imagine spending twenty years of your life, holding on to the slimmest of hopes that the only person you’ve ever loved, a man who disappeared before your very eyes, might still be alive. It’s like telling the wife of a POW not to move on with her life because her missing husband might return. Look at the life your mother’s led. Isolated from the public, unable to see one son, the other in a world all his own, with no social life of her own to speak of. Not knowing what to think about Mick’s death, your mother’s refused to allow herself to get involved in another relationship, to say nothing about how she’s made herself available to Jacob’s every whim.’

‘It’s always been like that. I’m guessing Jake has her convinced we’re flying off to Xibalba in four days.’

‘Which means in four days he’ll suddenly be confronted by the reality of his own psychosis, and it’s going to tear him apart. Your mother knows what’s coming, and it scares her to death.’

Manny pinches away tears. ‘Where is she? I want to see her.’

Soft pink sand.

A tranquil lagoon, its small, soothing waves lapping at their ankles.

Dominique is holding Mick’s hand. She stares lovingly at his tan face, the golden rays of the setting sun dancing in his ebony eyes.

‘Mother?’

Mick looks at her with a sad smile. ‘You have to go.’

‘Mother, can we talk?’

Dominique removes the virtual-reality headgear, squinting into the hallway light.

‘I’m sorry,’ Manny says. ‘Am I disturbing you?’

‘Computer, lights.’ The overhead lights come up gradually. She sits up from the couch, then ejects the VR program. ‘How’re you feeling? We were all worried about you.’

‘I’m okay.’

‘I’m sorry Jake’s driving you crazy. I should have never let him talk me into bringing you here. All I ever wanted for you was to live a normal life.’

‘Ma, it’s okay.’ He sits next to her. ‘It’s you I’m worried about.’

She flashes a false smile. ‘Since when?’

He swallows the lump in his throat. ‘I realize now how hard it’s been for you… you know, being without Mick, seeing your family separated. Pushing you to let me go only made things worse.’

‘Your instincts were right. What I did… what I allowed Jacob to do was wrong.’

‘Jake manipulated you, just like he’s always manipulated me.’

‘It wasn’t just Jake, I believed it, too. I mean, how could I not, with everything that had happened. When your father first left me, I honestly believed he was still alive. I can’t describe the feeling, but somehow I just knew he was around, I could feel this terrible tugging in my heart. But as the years passed the feeling subsided. Your father’s dead, Manny. I’ve come to accept that now.’

‘And all Jake’s training, all this nonsense about taking a journey?’

‘All my fault. I was confused… I should have never allowed him to read your grandfather Julius’s journal. It’s become the basis of his psychosis. By the time I realized what I’d done, it was too late.’

‘I’m sure GOLDEN FLEECE made things worse. These scientists are using Jake’s delusions to get what they want. Why did you go along with it?’

‘Why? Because I had no choice. The two of you have always had enemies. Weeks before we set up your phony deaths, the FBI caught a terrorist cell that was planning to launch a crude biological weapon at our home. Living in the compound-we were sitting ducks. Dr. Mohr supported Jacob’s training in exchange for your brother’s cooperation, allowing them access to the starship. Jacob feels safe here. He said he never felt safe on Longboat Key. How could I deny him that?’

‘Jake claims he can operate the Balam.’

‘He can access the vessel and manipulate a few of its astrotopography programs. Other than that, your brother has no more control or knowledge of that ship than you or I.’

‘That white-haired fubitshitter… he did it to me again.’

‘It’s the reason Dr. Mohr didn’t want you to see the starship. He knew Jacob would use it to manipulate you.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me any of this before we arrived? Never mind, if you had, I never would have come.’

‘Manny, it’s not Jacob’s fault. He has a disease. While it may allow him to focus inward, it causes psychotic behavior, robbing him of his ability to grasp reality.’

‘And what about me? Will I turn out like him?’

‘I don’t think so. Even if this Hunahpu gene were to suddenly grow dominant, you’re already well grounded in reality. Jacob was born into his dementia, and he’s too stubborn and too damn smart for his doctors to be coerced into therapy. Everyone agreed our only option was to allow this whole thing to just play itself out. When he finds himself stuck on planet Earth in four days like the rest of us, maybe he’ll open his mind enough to allow us to help. But there are other complications. Dr. Mohr just learned the entire GOLDEN FLEECE project’s being absorbed by HOPE.’

‘So what happens to Jake?’

She looks away.

‘Ma, I’m here now, I’m part of the family again. You have to tell me. What’s going to happen to Jake after Saturday?’

‘He’ll be committed… to a private sanitarium.’

Thursday Evening

4:55 p.m.

Immanuel follows his brother and Dr. Mohr into the secured facility that holds the Balam. The chamber is deserted, GOLDEN FLEECE’s technicians having already left for their four-day Thanksgiving holiday.

The immense starship’s mirrored gold hull sparkles beneath the overhead lights.

Dr. Mohr pauses by one of the vessel’s massive engines, grinning at Jacob from ear to ear. ‘Okay, I’m ready to give this thing another try.’

Jacob stretches, feigning boredom. ‘Go ahead, Doc, but explain things so Manny can understand them. Remember, he’s only a PE major, not an expert in quantum physics.’

Immanuel shoots his twin an elbow to the ribs.

‘Okay, Manny, er, Sam, the thing you need to understand about space travel is that the universe is big. The fastest thing we know of is light, which travels in the vacuum of space at 186,281 miles per second. Even at that rate, it would still take light a full four years just to reach our closest neighboring star. According to the star charts your brother was able to access, this ship originated from somewhere within the Orion Belt, which means it’s capable of exceeding light speed. With that sliver of information, GOLDEN FLEECE scientists have been trying to reverse engineer these engines, trying to figure out how the heck they work. Now, we know the ship doesn’t use conventional rockets-’

‘How do you know that?’ Immanuel asks. ‘They look like regular engines.’

Mohr smiles. ‘Rockets are okay for traveling to the moon or Mars, but you can’t use them for interstellar travel. The problem is the rocket’s fuel, or propellant. Unlike a plane, which pushes against air, a spacecraft has no mass to push against in the vacuum of space. Therefore, rocket ships must transport with them all the mass they’ll need to push against in order to move. Let’s say you wanted to use one of our newest Mars transports to reach Proxima Centauri, the closest star to our sun. Forget the fact that it would take you nine hundred years to arrive. In terms of propellant, there isn’t enough mass in the universe to get you there. Now, if you used a nuclear fusion rocket, something several space agencies are working on, you’d still need a thousand supertankers of propellant. Of course, if you wanted to get there sooner, it would require even more ungodly amounts of fuel.’

‘I saw a program about the new Mars cargo vessels. They’re going to use lunar-based lasers to push light sails.’

‘Correct, but the technology is still not feasible over great distances. Let’s say you were one light-year from Earth and wanted to make a course change. It would take two years just for the new commands to be radioed to ground control, received, and sent back.’

‘So what’s the solution?’

‘The solution is twofold: First, find a source of energy that is already in the vacuum of space; second, discover the means to manipulate the coupling or connection between mass and space-time.

‘Back in 1948, a Dutch physicist by the name of Hendrick Casimir completed an experiment using two metal plates. When brought close enough together, the plates attracted each other, revealing the presence of energy within the vacuum. The Casimir effect, as it was later named, was defined as zero-point energy-the random electromagnetic oscillations left in a vacuum after all the other energy has been removed.

‘Exactly how much energy resides in space is unknown, but many scientists now believe that before the Big Bang, the conditions of the universe were very similar to those inside a black hole. At minus 273 degrees Celsius, or absolute zero, molecular motion ceases. Zero-point energy doesn’t cease; in fact, it may have been so intense that it actually triggered the Big Bang, creating the universe as we now know it. Even though we can’t see it, space is, in fact, a sea of zero-point energy, so-called because it is everywhere and balanced to apparent zero. If we were to place a glass vase in a vacuum, the energy would cause it to wobble but prevent it from falling over since the energy would be rushing at it from every direction, neutralizing the effects. If zero-point energy does exist out there, and we believe it does, then there is more than enough energy in the volume of a cup of coffee to evaporate all of Earth’s oceans.’

‘That’s some cup of coffee.’

Dr. Mohr smiles. ‘Yes it is. Our challenge lies in organizing these multidimensional spectrums of energies simultaneously. According to Einstein’s theory of relativity, the speed of light is the limiting velocity for all ordinary material particles. Tardyons-particles having nonzero rest mass can approach the speed of light but can never achieve it, or their masses would become infinite. At the same time, luxons-particles with zero rest mass, such as photons and neutrinos, must always travel at light speed in a vacuum.’

The rocket scientist points to the starship’s engines. ‘The inverse of tardyons are tachyons-theoretical subatomic particles that can only travel at speeds exceeding that of light. What I believe we’re looking at here is some type of hyperdrive system that channels tachyon energy.’ Mohr turns to Jacob. ‘So, Professor Gabriel? Am I right?’

Jacob grins. ‘There was a young lady named Bright, whose speed was far faster than light. She went out one day, in a relative way, and returned the previous night.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘What your brother means is that if you can move faster than the speed of light, you could theoretically travel back in time, potentially causing all sorts of paradoxes.’

Immanuel turns to his twin. ‘As in… a time loop?’

‘Shh, don’t interrupt,’ Jacob says. ‘Okay, Doc, you’re stumbling along just fine, now see if you can tell me how this hyperdrive concept of yours works.’

Dr. Mohr points to the wasp’s nest of charred, afterburner-shaped housings, each orifice no less than thirty feet in diameter. ‘Once in orbit, those housings open, allowing a tachyon stream to pass through. The Balam ’s computer regulates course and speed by widening or shunting off the openings in different combinations. The lower the tachyon stream’s energy, the faster the ship would travel.’ The scientist smiles. ‘So? Did I pass?’

Jacob’s communicator flashes on, interrupting them.

It’s Dominique. ‘Jacob, dinner’s ready. I want you and your brother home now, please. And tell Dr. Mohr that his wife called, and he’d better get his rear end in gear.’

Dave Mohr checks his watch. ‘Oops, abort, abort. I’ll see you boys tomorrow morning.’

Immanuel watches the wiry scientist hurry toward the exit. ‘He seems to know an awful lot about this spaceship.’

‘He should,’ says Jacob. ‘After all, he once piloted it.’

‘Huh?’

Jacob turns to face him, his piercing blue eyes suddenly dead serious. ‘The time loop, Manny. When the cataclysm strikes Earth, Dave Mohr will be one of the scientists selected for Mars Colony. Only he’ll never make it, his ship and several others caught within the gravitational forces of the wormhole.’

‘Dr. Mohr was on Xibalba?’

‘Yes. Fortunately, he and a few other members of the brotherhood managed to escape before the Abomination took over.’

‘Whoa, wait a minute… are you telling me Dr. Mohr was a… a Guardian?’

‘Was, and will be again, unless we return to Xibalba and succeed. He doesn’t remember it, but Dr. Mohr was once the great Mayan wise man, Kukulcan.’

South Beach, Florida

The setting sun has turned the Atlantic Ocean a deep magenta.

Lauren remains hidden in the shadows of an alleyway another five minutes before crossing A-1-A to the row of private beach garages. She quickly locates the facility belonging to the Peacock family and enters the access code.

The aluminum panel opens, revealing motorized water skis, lounge chairs, and a canary yellow three-wheeled dune buggy, its fiber-cast hull more boat than car.

Lauren climbs inside the two-passenger open cockpit of the Amphibian. Powering up the engine, she guides the vehicle out of its garage, then bounds over the grass dunes and sand, straight into the ocean.

Waves lift the buoyant vessel away from the silt. Wheels retract. A forward ski moves into place beneath the pointed bow, a rotary-driven propeller dropping beneath its stern.

Lauren guns the engines. The wind howls in her ears as she races north, bouncing along the surface at fifty miles an hour, heading for Cape Canaveral.

Hangar 13, Kennedy Space Center,

Cape Canaveral, Florida

Roasted turkey. Stuffing. Sweet potatoes. Freshly baked rolls.

Immanuel is stuffed. He lays his head back against the violet cushion and belches.

‘That was nice.’

‘Sorry, Ma, but that was the best meal I’ve had in a long time. How long it take you to synthesize it?’

She shoots him a harsh look. ‘I cooked it. That was real turkey, not that synthetic soy crap laced with flavoring and chemicals. If you want to get your dailies, take them the old-fashioned way.’

Grand Master Chong enters, a look of concern on the old man’s face. ‘Jacob, come please. Your brother, too.’

Dominique feels the blood rush from her face. ‘What is it?’

The monk shakes his head. ‘We have guests.’

Atlantic Ocean

8:56 p.m.

Lauren eases back on the Amphibian’s throttle and turns toward shore, allowing the two-man boat to settle in the swells.

She stands in the open cockpit and stretches, her buttocks numb. She has been following the Florida coastline for three hours. Exhausted, cold, and sore, she has been questioning her own sanity for most of the trip.

Glancing down at the control panel, she quickly verifies her position on the LED computer screen.

The old Cape Canaveral lighthouse is a half mile north. Just ahead is the immense building she had seen from the NASA causeway only days earlier.

Days? Seems more like years. Okay, if you’re really going to do this, then do it…

She accelerates behind a cresting wave and rides it into the beach, activating the amphibious switch.

As the jet ski rolls forward onto the sand, three tires rotate into position beneath the chassis, instantly converting the seacraft back into a landrover.

Lauren parks the triwheeled dune buggy on dry sand, her eyes focused on the forty-foot-high perimeter fence which runs parallel to the shoreline.

WARNING: ELECTRIFIED FENCE. NO TRESPASSING BY ORDER OF THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT.

She tosses a seashell fragment.

Zapp!

Okay, Einstein, now what?

A flash of headlights causes her to duck. She watches as a white stretch limousine parks in front of the main entrance.

Lauren sits back, rubbing her head, trying to fathom the sudden sensation of deja vu.

Grand Master Chong, Dominique, Jacob, and Immanuel stand before the two-way observation panel, watching the occupants in the next room.

Seated at the head of a simulated oak conference table is President John Zwawa. On his left is Alyssa Popov, on his right, a Hispanic member of GOLDEN FLEECE.

‘Danny Diaz,’ Jacob mutters, ‘Dave Mohr’s right-hand man. Looks like the bastard sold us out.’

A disheveled Dr. Mohr enters the conference room, followed by the most stunning woman Immanuel Gabriel has ever seen. She is young, about his age, but carries herself in a more worldly way. Mocha tan skin. High cheekbones, accentuated by long, wavy ebony hair, which rolls down her taut, muscular back to her flawless waistline. Her lips are full and luscious, her dark, wrap around sunglasses adding an air of mystique. She saunters around the room in her own little world, her bone-colored silk pajama-style outfit threatening to fall away.

Manny watches her circle, his eyes wide. ‘Who is that?’

Jacob stares at the woman as if seeing a ghost. ‘Trouble.’

Dave Mohr’s voice emanates from speakers within their sound-proof office. ‘Mrs. Mabus, honestly, I’m not really sure what you’re after. After all, we’ve been attempting to reverse engineer the starship for more than a decade now, and-’

‘Please, Dr. Mohr, let’s not begin our tenure together with lies.’ Her voice, so soothing, yet not one to be trifled with. ‘Daniel?’

Danny Diaz activates a recessed volumetric display, which rises to show the three-dimensional image of the Guardian’s starship rotating above the tabletop. ‘We’ve been able to access the Balam ’s astrotopography program. We also located the source of the electromagnetic pulse weapon, which essentially prevented us from annihilating one another back in 2012.’

Lilith glides around the room, then abruptly stops and stares at her own reflection in the two-way mirror, inches from Jacob and Manny.

‘Who is she, Jacob?’ Dominique whispers.

Lilith suddenly smiles like an enchantress, then slowly lifts her silk top, exposing her tan, grapefruit-sized breasts at the two-way mirror.

Immanuel grins.

Jacob’s heart skips a beat.

And then the woman removes her wraparound sunglasses and reveals the sociopathic intensity of her azure-blue eyes.

Jacob grabs his twin by the arm and forcibly drags him from the room.

‘Jake, stop-’

‘No! You need to leave here, now!’

‘Jake, her eyes… was that-’

‘Yes. Now listen to me very carefully-’

They race down a corridor to a door marked EQUIPMENT. Jacob keys a code into a pad, then opens the door – revealing a stairwell that descends into darkness.

‘This will lead you outside to the beach. Give me two minutes, and I’ll cut power to the electrical fence. Your girlfriend’s outside.’

‘Lauren’s here? How do you know-’

‘Don’t talk, just listen. Head south. Stay out of the public eye. Find Frank Stansbury, he’s a friend of the family. Lives in Delray Beach, in the Western Estates.’

‘What about you?’

Jacob embraces his twin. ‘Don’t ask-just run! Remember, Frank Stansbury. And stay out of the nexus, or the Hunahpu will sense you. Now go!’

Immanuel hurries down the steps. Kicks open the rusted steel door and jogs out onto the beach, the wind gusting, the ocean spray blasting him in the face.

Searchlights activate behind and to his left. He dives forward, rolling to the base of the electrical barrier.

The searchlights’ motion detectors locate him. He tosses sand at the fence, which sizzles with static. Come on, Jake, shut it down!

He takes a few breaths, looks around, then throws another fistful of sand.

This time, the charge is gone.

Leaping to his feet, he grabs hold of the fence, scaling the forty-foot-high steel barrier like a lizard. He leaps into the night, drops and lands on both feet – as a familiar figure runs away from him, heading for the ocean.

Lauren sprints down the beach, away from the sirens, away from the searchlights. The wind whistles in her ears as the world-class sprinter races for the Amphibian.

‘Lauren, wait!’

Sam?

Lauren stops running as her fiance stumbles, barreling sideways into her.

‘Lauren?’ Sam stares at her in disbelief. ‘Oh, God, it is you!’

She leaps into his arms, sobbing. ‘Sam, I’m in so much trouble-’

‘You and me both.’ Looking back over her shoulder, he spots the armed security guards. ‘Come on, we gotta move.’

Hand in hand, they race down the beach.

‘No, this way!’ Lauren pulls him toward the water.

He spots the Amphibian, then looks back, as one of the security guards activates his taser.

No! Ignoring his brother’s warning, he slips into the nexus – time slowing to an excruciating crawl.

Behind him, pushing through clear gelatin-like fourth-dimensional waves, is the taser’s sizzling violet circle of energy. Expanding rapidly across the beachhead, the paralyzing loop of lightning reaches for them – as Jacob grabs Lauren around her waist and leaps into the Amphibian’s cockpit.

I can taste you, cousin. Why do you run? What is it you fear?

Gunning the engine, he converts the jeep into a boat, then activates the craft’s autopilot, pressing the setting for Miami – as the wave of energy slams into them from behind, zapping them into unconsciousness.