Phobos: Mayan Fear (8 page)

5

Not only does God definitely play dice, but He sometimes confuses us by throwing them where they can’t be seen.

—STEPHEN HAWKING,

“DOES GOD PLAY DICE?”

PEKI’IN, ISRAEL

MAY 3, 2047

“
A
hh!”

Immanuel Gabriel’s azure eyes snap open. It takes him an unsettling moment before he realizes he is no longer Chilam Balam, that he is himself again, buried neck-deep in sand in front of the cave of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai.

The graying eastern horizon soothes his nerves, the dim light revealing a lone figure standing by the carob tree. Dressed in a white robe, he could be Kukulcan’s twin, save for the lack of facial hair.

“Jake?”

“I’ve missed you, Manny. I’m glad you finally reached out to communicate.”

“How did you get here? Are you even real, or is this another vision?”

“I exist, though I am no longer part of the physical realm. What you see is the reflected light of my soul.”

“Is that your way of telling me you’re dead?”

“Existence as you know it is far different from the reality of the infinite world. But yes, I died on Xibalba.”

Manny lays his head back, his eyes clouding with tears. “It’s my fault. I should have gone with you.”

“No. I was the one who was wrong. I made your life miserable. Can you see it in your heart to forgive me?”

“I forgive you, bro. I miss you.”

“Our souls will always be entwined.”

“I had a vision, Jake. It felt so real.”

“The vision was not my doing. You channeled a prior life.”

“Yeah, sure I did.”

“Every human alive today has experienced at least one past life.”

“Jake, no offense, but I’m still having a hard time believing we’re speaking, let alone—”

“Reincarnation is not about believing. It is about understanding the very nature of the soul. The soul is eternal, a spark of the Creator that desires to exist in the Upper World. There’s a lot more to this, but the physical world was created for one purpose: so that each soul has an opportunity to earn its own eternal fulfillment. The process is known as Gilgul Neshamot. A soul descends upon the physical world because it needs to make a correction, sometimes from a sin committed in a past life. If a soul lives one lifetime without fulfilling its correction, it may return three more times to complete its tikkun, its spiritual repair.”

“My soul, in a prior life, was Chilam Balam?”

“Yes.”

“And what is my purpose? What am I supposed to correct?”

“The destruction of the world.”

“The destruction of the world? Is that all? Hell, I ought to be able to handle that, no problem.”

“Manny, this is a challenge you accepted the day you refused to join me on Xibalba. By remaining behind, you altered mankind’s future. In doing so, you also changed the past.”

“You lost me.”

“The physical universe has been caught in a time loop—a time loop created by a Doomsday device tested several years before our birth. Unbeknownst to its handlers, an anomaly was created. On December 21 in the year 2012, the anomaly appeared in the physical dimension—

“—destroying the entire planet.”

The approaching dawn burns Mitchell Kurtz’s eyes. From his perch on the deserted mountain highway he can see wisps of fog gathering along the treetops below, the village of Peki’in still asleep. The bodyguard yawns, then stands and stretches. He contemplates another set of push-ups, opting instead for an energy bar.

The motion sensors in his glasses alert him to the intruder a split second before he activates his pain cannon.

“Ow!”

He traces the woman’s scream, surprised to find his new female acquaintance lying on the tarmac next to her road bike, the metal still sparking. “Arlene?”

“Albert?”

The name catches him off guard, Kurtz momentarily forgetting his new alias.
Albert Phaneuf … you’re a movie producer.
“Arlene, what are you doing out here?”

“Taking my morning ride. What are
you
doing here?”

“We just finished shooting a scene, that’s why they closed the road. Didn’t you see all the vans?”

“No.”

He helps the brunette off the ground, her well-endowed bust enhanced by her neoprene bodysuit. “Arlene, how did you get past the roadblock?”

She slips her arms around his neck, their lips inches apart. “I told them I was in your movie.”

Kurtz collapses in her arms, the paralyzed bodyguard never seeing the barbed prong of the divorced woman’s ring as it pricks the back of his neck.

“Jake, that makes no sense. If humanity was wiped out in 2012, how were we born? Why are we still here in 2047? And what kind of anomaly could annihilate an entire planet?”

“I cannot provide all the details, to do so could jeopardize your mission. What I can tell you is the anomaly’s creation and subsequent expansion into the physical universe opened wormholes, space-time portals. They are unstable and largely rendered moot … unless someone enters. In that scenario, an alternate universe is created, the repercussions of which can affect all physical existence.”

“I’m still lost. Who entered the wormhole?”

“You did. As Chilam Balam.”

The blood rushes from Manny’s face. “The cenote … But that happened more than five hundred years ago.”

“As Einstein proved, time is not linear. While the anomaly bound the wormholes to Earth, some appeared in our past and present, others opened in the future. Ultimately, that’s what offered humanity a second shot at salvation. A wormhole opened in near-Earth space on July 4, 2047, again as a result of the anomaly created by the Doomsday device. Lilith’s fleet of Mars shuttles were inhaled down the time tunnel’s vortex, depositing them on Earth, only Earth millions of years in the future. The planet and cosmos were so alien, the colonists had no idea they had crash-landed on their own home world.”

“What happened to them?”

“Though the surface was barren, the sky harbored a magnificent domed city hovering in the clouds, possessing technologies so advanced they remained inaccessible to the Mars colonists. The cloud city had been abandoned, or so the colonists thought. Over time, consumption of the water supply genetically altered the colonists, allowing them access inside the alien structures. One of these vaults contained the physical remains of an advanced species of humanoids, possessing elongated skulls.

“The post-human society had split into two sects. One sought to explore the physical universe; the second desired to access the higher dimensions of existence. To do so, the latter group abandoned their physical forms to unleash their consciousness into the spiritual realm … something that violated the laws of creation.

“Lilith, my son, Devlin, and all but a few of the surviving Mars colonists discovered the post-humans’ remains. Accessing their DNA, the colonists became more powerful than they already were. In doing so, these fallen ones—the Nephilim—condemned themselves to a purgatorylike existence in a spiritual realm—an eleventh dimension ruled by the negative forces of creation. They called this realm Xibalba.”

“
Xibalba
is Hell? Jake, how could living beings access Hell?”

“The colonists weren’t alive. The post-human DNA had killed them, they just didn’t know it. The negative forces were feeding off their collective consciousness, making them believe they were still marooned on this alien world. Devlin became Satan’s alter ego, torturing the colonists to absorb their light. This was the netherworld our father found himself exiled in, his being harbored within a calabash tree, his soul guarded by Lilith. Mother and I were able to release him, but I was mortally wounded in the process.”

“You said existence is caught in a time loop. How—”

“Prior to injecting themselves with post-human DNA, Lilith’s scientists had launched a transport ship through another wormhole. The vessel contained a biological creature capable of bridging space-time, potentially allowing the marooned colonists to return to present-day Earth. When the Nephilim transport entered the wormhole, it was pursued by the post-humans’ starship, the
Balam
. Aboard this artificial intelligence were the Guardian—colonists who had refused to be corrupted by Lilith and Devlin and had fled to the far side of the moon. The
Balam
’s entry inside the wormhole altered its trajectory, sending both vessels back in time 65 million years. The transport became the object that crash-landed in the Gulf of Mexico, killing the dinosaurs.

“Lilith’s scientists had stabilized the wormhole’s opening in their time period; now it was just a matter of waiting until the exit point returned to Earth-space on the winter solstice of 2012. Knowing the biological creature would awaken on this date, the Guardian orbiting the Earth in the
Balam
set a plan into motion: they would remain asleep until modern man evolved, then land the
Balam
and begin cultivating civilizations to erect monoliths that would conceal the
Balam
’s array. They also seeded the Maya, Aztec, and Inca with low doses of Hunahpu DNA so that one of their own bloodlines could access the
Balam
in 2012. Our father emerged a thousand years later as One Hunahpu—their genetic messiah.”

“Let me get this straight: humanity was really destroyed in 2012, only this Doomsday device opened a wormhole in 2047, creating an alternate universe that bypassed the Doomsday event?”

“Not bypassed entirely. When our father activated the
Balam
on December 21 in 2012, he not only destroyed the biological creature, he destroyed the Doomsday anomaly.”

“Then we’re cool, right?”

“No, Manny. By not coming with me to Xibalba, you unraveled one end of the time loop. The free end is the wormhole that will appear in two months on July 4. If Lilith’s shuttles enter, then time will loop again, only to an alternate past where there is no biological creature buried in the Gulf of Mexico. The anomaly will simply appear on the 2012 winter solstice, annihilating the entire planet.”

Manny closes his eyes, his mind struggling to wrap itself around these bizarre cause-and-effect scenarios. “What do you need me to do?”

“Enter the wormhole when it appears on July 4. Because Earth no longer exists in the future, the wormhole must open sometime in Earth’s past, prior to the 2012 event. You must enter the wormhole and go back in time, then find a way to destroy the Doomsday device before it is activated.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“Seek Lilith’s help.”

“Seek Lilith’s help? Jake, why do you think I’ve avoided accessing the Nexus these last fourteen years? Your wacky girlfriend is a psychopath. Her soul’s as dark as they come.”

“The soul is a spark of perfection. Lilith’s darkness originates from her own tainted past. If our souls are entwined, Manny, then she is your soul mate, too.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. That crazy bitch killed my true soul mate minutes after you left Earth. Her assassin murdered Lauren!”

“Go back in time and Lauren can live again.”

“Huh?” Manny’s thoughts race. “Yeah … that’s true. Wait, what about Chilam Balam and his people … er, my people? What happened to them?”

“When Chilam Balam and his followers fell into the sacred cenote, the sinkhole manifested into a wormhole, again created by the Doomsday device that destroys the Earth in 2012. By entering the wormhole, you and your Mayan brethren created another alternate universe, one that circumvented Doomsday but deposited you into a future where Earth was thawing from a ten-thousand-year ice age, caused by the eruption of the Yellowstone caldera.”

“The caldera? Jake, Lauren had been working on a solution to the caldera, the University of Miami was funding her work.”

“Lauren’s death may have been necessary; it served the alternate universe created when Chilam Balam and his people entered the wormhole in the 1500s.”

“Necessary? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Chilam Balam and his people arrived in a post-caldera alternative existence. His Mayan colony thrived. A thousand years later, his society—your society—succeeded in harvesting zero-point energy to colonize other planets. It was Chilam Balam’s future generations that evolved into the Hunahpu—the post-human species encountered by Lilith’s Mars colonists. It was the Hunahpu who built the
Balam
. They built it for us, Manny. And they named it after you.”

Manny lays his head back against the sand, feeling dizzy. “Jake, about Lilith—”

“The greatest transformation of darkness yields the greatest light. Lilith transformed on Xibalba. After I died, I cleansed her soul.”

“What about our parents? Did you cleanse Mick’s soul, too?”

“Our parents never died. Their collective consciousness remains trapped.”

“Trapped? Where? Jake, where are they trapped?”

“On Phobos.”

“Phobos? As in the Mars moon, Phobos? How the hell did they get there?”

“Our parents were taken aboard a Guardian transport before the sun went supernova. The transport entered the wormhole, followed by the
Balam
. The wormhole deposited both vessels far into the past. Phobos isn’t a moon, it’s all that remains of the Guardian’s transport vessel. Our parents are held inside, their consciousness trapped in cryogenic stasis.”

“They’re still alive? Jake—”

The sun’s brilliance peeks over the horizon. Jacob disperses with the golden light—

—his presence replaced by armed commandoes. Dressed in black, they aim weapons at Salt and Pepper, the two bodyguards bound in neural cuffs. The commando leader kneels to reach Manny, snapping a sensory collar around his neck.

“Immanuel Gabriel, you are under arrest for treason. This collar monitors your brain waves. Attempt to access the Nexus and the change in brain activity will activate your friends’ neural cuffs, electrocuting them.”

6

At every stage of understanding the universe better, the benefits to civilization have been immeasurable. None of those big leaps were made with us knowing what was going to happen.

—BRIAN COX, CERN PHYSICIST

NEPAL

MAY 5, 2047

T
he Federal Democratic Republic of Nepal is a landlocked country shaped like a five-hundred-mile-long east-west bacon strip situated between China and India. While Nepal’s southern lowland plains maintain a tropical climate, the two elevated regions to the north drop quickly into alpine temperatures as the geology rises into the Himalaya Mountains. Formed by the tectonic collision of the Indian subcontinent meeting Eurasia, the Himalayan arc makes up the northern part of Nepal and contains eight of the highest elevations in the world, including Sagarmatha, better known as Mount Everest.

The climbing party numbered eight. The two Americans, Shawn Eastburn and her nephew, Scott Curtis, were both from Oklahoma and the weakest climbers. Their employer, Sean Cadden, was Canadian; it was his travel company that had sponsored the trip. Jurgen Neelen and Karim Jivani had joined them in Kathmandu, the two Europeans far more experienced mountaineers. Ultimately, of course, the success of the climb relied on the three hired Sherpas, who not only led the way but bore the brunt of their belongings, each blue nylon bag weighing in excess of sixty pounds.

The five foreigners had arrived in Nepal’s capital on Thursday, the climbing permits alone costing $14,000 per person. Another $16,000 was spent on equipment rental, oxygen, insurance, and Sherpa fees.

While Sean Cadden claimed his assault on the world’s highest mountain was all about promoting his business ventures, deep inside he knew it was personal. The adrenaline junkie had attempted Everest three years earlier when a spot had opened on a February climb, only things had gone bad quickly. The weather had been vicious, an avalanche claiming two lives and ending the attempt at Base Camp III. Undaunted, the CEO had promised his employees that he would return to claim the mountain. Now he was back: granted, in May, when the weather was far more stable—if fifty degrees below zero and winds blowing in excess of a hundred miles an hour could be so defined.

After two days of preparation and equipment tests the team finally arrived at Lukla, making their way up to Base Camp at 17,600 feet. Shawn Eastburn, an insulin-dependent diabetic, was the first to suffer from high altitude sickness. At Sean Cadden’s urging, the forty-two-year-old district manager and mother of two had valiantly continued on to scale the Khumbu Icefall at 19,500 feet. Resting at Camp I in the Valley of Silence, she declared her climb over.

The others had pushed on, ascending to Camp II at 21,300 feet. The harrowing Lhotse Face was completed by dusk, bringing the team to Camp III at 23,500 feet. There they rested, allowing their bodies to acclimatize for the nearly three-thousand-foot ascent to Camp IV, located in the “death zone.”

Altitudes in the Everest death zone exceed 26,200 feet. The air is frigid, requiring every speck of flesh to be covered lest frostbite set in. Atmospheric pressure is only a third of that at sea level, forcing all non-Sherpas to use oxygen. The snow is densely frozen, the icy surface leading to a greater incident of fatalities from slips and falls. Climbers who are injured in the death zone have a high mortality rate. Those who perish here are usually left behind. Over 160 frozen corpses remain a permanent part of the Everest geology.

Scott Curtis is in his tent shivering, the howling wind abusing his shelter. The Oklahoma native wishes he had remained behind at Camp II with his aunt, or better yet, in Tulsa. Exhausted from having to gasp eighty to ninety breaths a minute in the oxygen-deprived air, he has been using his O
₂
tank since Camp III. Now, as the sun rises and the wind swirls into a white haze, he knows there are no reserves left in his spent body to even contemplate the final three thousand feet.

The weather window opens an hour later. The three remaining climbers and two of their Sherpa guides begin the final assault. Down mittens clench poles, masked faces breathe oxygen behind tinted goggles.

At precisely seventeen minutes after noon beneath a cobalt-blue sky, the five men arrive at the 29,035-foot summit, the highest point on Earth.

The view is like no other. Snowcapped peaks and billowing cloud banks. Heavens that hint at the darkness of outer space.

For twenty minutes they videotape one another and snap photos, sharing the same cruising altitude as the commercial jetliner that brought them to Kathmandu. No evidence of their presence will be left behind, no trash or debris jeopardizing their $5,000 environmental deposit and the mountain’s good karma.

The karma changes at 12:37 p.m.

It commences with a roll of thunder, low and deep, echoing across the valley of snow-covered peaks. Sean Cadden kneels in the snow, seven miles of mountain shaking beneath him. “Earthquake!”

The three climbers hang on to one another as the rumbling builds. Jurgen Neelen’s scalp tingles, his thoughts turning to his fellow climbers at the lower base camps, their location rendering them vulnerable to an avalanche. His head continues itching. He rubs a mittened hand atop his wool ski cap, generating sparks of static electricity. The loosened hat flies off his head, caught in an upswell of frigid air.

Snow flies past his face, followed by particles of rock that glance off his goggles before raining skyward. Jurgen looks up, mystified, his gray eyes following the trail of debris as it rises into the forming tail of a white tornado! The rotating column of air soars high over Everest—a massive churning vortex that twists skyward like a monstrous snake before disappearing into the event horizon of a gelid maelstrom located hundreds of miles above the mountain.

Sean Cadden stares at the hole in the sky, dumbfounded. “What the hell is that?”

Karim Jivani shields his face against flying debris. “Hey … what happened to the Sherpas?”

“They’re descending without us,” yells Neelen. “Come on!”

The three climbers head for the ropes as the updraft’s intensity increases, inhaling Karim’s camera right out of his hand. Cadden’s oxygen mask snaps free, flapping above his eyes. He grabs it by its hose, holding it to his face as he ducks low, following his companions down the rapidly disintegrating trail from which they ascended.

Chunks of frozen snow break loose like miniature icebergs, spinning into the air. A thirty-pound brick of ice bashes Karim in the face, shattering his goggles, which are quickly wrenched free from his head.

Jurgen reaches the ropes first. He snaps the carabiner attached to his belt around the line and begins a rapid rappel, his two companions right behind him.

The tornado’s suction rips the masks and helmets from their heads. The mountain peak shudders, shaking loose a million tons of snow in a blinding whiteout that sweeps the three men away from the rock and into the air, their feet splayed over their heads, the nylon rope all that tethers them to Everest.

Through the gravity-defying ice storm Sean Cadden looks up into the three-mile-wide radius of the anomaly, its gelid-clear orifice defined by the inhaled debris, its event horizon pushing closer.

The roar is deafening—a thousand freight trains vibrating every atom in the Canadian thrill-seeker’s body, swallowing his scream—

And suddenly there is silence.

The sky is clear, the anomaly gone. The three men gaze at one another, still suspended from their ropes, unsure of what just happened, or how they are still alive.