The Vilcabamba Prophecy: A Nick Randall Novel (15 page)

Randall
was impressive. Prior to launching into theories, he first laid the scientific
groundwork for his hypothesis. Citing the work of the Harvard trained
astronomer, Frank Drake, Randall explained to the class the meaning of the now
famous Drake Equation, which estimated the number of intelligent civilizations
in the galaxy.

Dr.
Drake had developed and proposed this formula while working as a radio
astronomer at the National Radio Astronomy Observatory in Green Bank, West
Virginia. Even assuming very conservative estimates for the variables in
question, there was a high probability that more than a dozen such
civilizations existed in the Milky Way Galaxy, alone. Applying these same
assumptions over the vastness of the universe itself, it was very clear that,
mathematically speaking, the universe was teeming with intelligent life. When
further considering that many of these intelligent species could be thousands,
if not millions of years older, than our own, Randall was able to successfully
lay
the foundation that space-faring civilizations were
almost a certainty. From this vantage point, it wasn’t much of a stretch to
assume that a pale blue dot in the vast cosmos, teaming with its own life
forms, had potentially drawn the attention of at least a handful of these
cosmic explorers.

After
laying this foundation for the discussion, Randall went on to mesmerize the
students—and
Dumond
—with alternative
theories of archaeological discoveries. Amazingly, he was able to do so while
always providing some form of evidence to support his ideas. He began with maps
belonging to the fifteenth century Turkish Admiral
Piri
Reis, discovered in
Topkapi
Palace. Much to the
delight of his students, Randall explained how the maps, once transferred from
a flat grid and projected onto a round globe, accurately displayed the areas of
Mediterranean landforms along with the coasts of North and South America. Next,
he spoke of ancient petroglyphs from exotic locales such as Val
Camonica
in Italy and
Tassili
in
the Sahara. In both cases, the images portrayed humanoid figures sporting
unusual headgear reminiscent of Apollo-era astronaut helmets. Randall
tantalizingly questioned how people from such ancient civilizations, separated
by thousands of miles, could produce such similar drawings.

He
continued, showing the class images of an elaborate stone drawing found at the
temple at Copan. He then showed another image side by side with the Copan
drawing. Gasps emerged from the audience as the figure in the Copan drawing
bore a strikingly eerily resemblance to the image of an astronaut sitting in a
space capsule. Murmuring could be heard from the students as Randall pointed
out what appeared to be flames and exhaust coming from the bottom of the
“spacecraft” in the Copan drawing. How could this be the case when Copan was an
ancient Mayan ruin?

Randall
was clearly enjoying himself, and his enthusiasm only served to draw his
students and his special guest ever deeper into his theories. Next, he
described the
Moai
of Easter Island, huge humanoid
statues with grotesquely enormous heads, measuring 13-feet tall and weighing over
14 tons each. He explained how the inhabitants of this remote island had
fashioned 887 of these huge statues, some even larger and heavier than the
others. How had they done so and then moved them into place with only
rudimentary tools?

Randall
paced the floor, arms moving in rhythm to the elaborate explanations he gave to
support his theories.
Dumond
was impressed with the
young academic. He had clearly done his homework, and his theories were well
supported. At that moment,
Dumond
decided he would keep
a close eye on this young Professor. He searched out the Dean of the
Archaeology Department of the school and decided to pay him a visit. The office
of Dr. Francisco Andrade appeared just as
Dumond
imagined it would. Pictures of exotic lands hung from the wall and strange odds
and ends from various archaeological sites adorned the desktops and file
cabinets. At first, Dr. Andrade seemed wary of the meeting with
Dumond
, which seemed odd to him. Soon enough, he discovered
why. Apparently, Mr. Randall’s theories were not popular with the mainstream
faculty, who viewed Randall with disdain. His theories,
Dumond
learned, were considered ludicrous and even scandalous. Apparently, there was a
petition to have the young doctoral student removed from teaching. A fellow
graduate student named Charles Young led the drive to expel Randall from the
school entirely. Dr. Andrade explained that he greatly appreciated Randall’s
enthusiasm and didn’t agree with the other faculty. But the pressure to dismiss
him was mounting. In fact, the Academic Senate formally requested that the
University President remove Randall under the guise that he posed a threat to
the school’s academic reputation. Andrade’s hands were tied; the young doctoral
student’s days at the school were limited.

“Thank
you for the information, Dr. Andrade. I hope things change at the college, it
would be a shame for the University to lose such a bright, young mind.”

“I
agree, Mr.
Dumond
, but short a miracle, I fear Mr.
Randall will never earn his doctoral degree or be able to teach again.”

“Well,
don’t lose hope. Miracles happen.”

Later
in the week, a strange event unfolded. A rather large endowment was offered to
the University. Specifically, the donor wanted to fund archaeological and
anthropological research, but there was one stipulation for the endowment: the
college was to offer tenure to Nicholas Randall immediately and allow him to
pursue his field studies. The school also was to keep the terms of the
endowment a secret from the rest of the campus.

Dumond
smiled as he recounted these events,
and it served as a reminder of the need for patience and fortitude to press on.
He was so close to realizing his goals. His reverie was quickly ended by the
sound of his intercom.

“Mr.
Dumond
, Ms.
Seivers
is on
the line for you.”

“Thank
you, tell her I’ll be right with her,”
Dumond
said,
summoning his willpower. He steeled himself for the conversation he did not
want to have, knowing that it was simply one more hurdle to overcome before
attaining the ultimate prize.

Chapter twenty-three

In the cavern,
Nick Randall thought about their options, and sadly, there appeared to be only
one course of action. “I need to find the guys that took us hostage, Sam, and
get the medallion back.”

“I
was thinking the same thing, Dad, but I’m going with you.”

Randall
shook his head. “I just got you back, Sam, there’s no way I’m going to put you
in harm’s way again. I already put Phil and Mike in danger, I couldn’t stand
the thought of losing you, too.”

“Dad,
I’m already hip deep into this adventure, there’s no way I’m going to bail out
now. Besides, where else am I going to go? We don’t know where they are or how
to get out of here. If something is going to happen to us, I’d rather be with
you.”

Randall
had seen the same determined look in his daughter’s eyes before, and he knew
there would be no convincing her. She had a sizable stubborn streak—one
that she had inherited from her father, as his wife used to point out. “Okay,
Sam, we’ll go together. I think our best bet is to backtrack the way we came. I
don’t want us to get lost in this tunnel system. Let’s keep the light to a
minimum and move quietly to try and sneak up on them.”

Sam
smiled at her father, grabbed his arm and said, “Okay, let’s go!”

Their
approach was straightforward. In stretches of the tunnels with no bends or
turns, they would use their light to search ahead for signs of
Dumond
or
Kristoph’s
men. When
they approached a turn, they turned off their lights, and the elder Randall
would slowly scout around the turn looking for headlamps and listening for the
sounds of shuffling boots or the clicking of metal. After searching the tunnels
for some time, they had found no sign of the soldiers.

“This
is where the fight started. It’s the main cavern I walked down and where we escaped.”
Randall shined his light down toward the far end of the tunnel. “There’s the
chasm I jumped across to get to
Vilcabamba
.”

“Where
could they have gone?”

“I’m
not sure, but it looks like there aren’t as many as before.” Randall was now
shining his light on several lifeless corpses lying on the cold, damp ground.
Sam turned away in disgust. “You stay here, I’m going in for a closer look.”

Randall
moved closer to the bodies and immediately recognized one of them as the man
who had brought him back to the cavern.
Kristoph’s
now lifeless form lay sprawled on its side, a pool of crimson liquid puddled
under his head. Even in the poorly lit cavern, Randall realized what had
happened to the once proud and angry man. The large caliber weapon that had
been fired at point-blank range, had removed a portion of the left side of his
upper temple. He moved his light to see that the others in this killing zone
had met similar fates. A shiver ran down his spine as he realized that this
could have easily happened to Sam and Phil, as well. Once again, he felt a
twinge of guilt for involving them in this deadly adventure. Returning to Sam,
he relayed the news that his former captor was now deceased.

“What
do we do now?”

“Well,
we should get out of this underground cavern system and get you back to
civilization where you would be safe,” Randall reported, the thought of the
dead men down the tunnel still fresh on his mind.

“Or,
we could go after the medallion, get it back, and return it to the rightful
owners,” Sam responded.

Randall
sighed. “Sam, be reasonable. These guys are heavily armed, and they’re not
afraid to use their weapons. This isn’t a game, and there’s no guarantee we’ll
survive another encounter. I’m sorry, but you’re going home, and I’m going to
see if I can find Phil and Mike. I got them into this mess, and I’m sure as
hell going to do everything I can to make sure they get home safe.”

Randall’s
apprehension was apparent, and the tone in his speech was his serious-dad
voice; the one he used when he wanted to make it clear that he was the father,
and she was the daughter. It also meant that his word was final. It was the
same tone he had used when he told Sam that she would go into a different field
than archaeology, so that she could have a stable family life, in one place. It
was the same speech he gave her shortly before she had applied to the
Anthropology Department at Georgetown University. Both times, his admonitions
had fallen on deaf ears, and he was doubtful there would be a different outcome
this time.

“Dad,
I know you’re worried about me, but I’m not a little girl, anymore. I’ve had my
share of dangerous run-ins with sketchy characters. I’ve also survived some
pretty scary
near-misses
in the field, and I have the
scars to prove it. First of all, if
Dumond
and his
men aren’t here, that means they likely went back to their jungle base. You
have no idea where it is or how to get there. On the other hand, I know where
it is, and more importantly, I’ve been inside the facility. I know my way
around and what to expect. You need my help. You can’t finish this alone.”

Randall
stared into the now serious eyes of his daughter, knowing not only that she was
right, but also that once she set her mind to something, there was no
convincing her otherwise. He shifted uncomfortably.

“Well?”

“Okay,
we’ll go together. But at the first sign of trouble, I want you to leave.”

“Deal!”

chapter
twenty-four

It was a short
trek back out of the cavern and into the chamber room for Randall and Sam.
Fortunately, one of the ropes that
Ackers’s
men had
used to rappel
down,
was still hanging into the
cavern. After climbing back up and out of the temple complex, the feel of the
warm sunlight on their skin was a welcome sensation. They enjoyed it only for a
moment, as time was short, and they both knew that they had to move quickly.

Removing
her GPS-equipped phone from her backpack, Sam proudly said, “We need to go this
way.”

“How
do you know?”

“When
they were holding Monica and me, I marked the camp as a waypoint on my GPS,”
Sam said, smiling proudly.

Randall
shook his head, smiling at his daughter.

The
trip to the encampment was a difficult march through dense undergrowth. Had
circumstances been different, the two scientists would have undoubtedly been
impressed enough to realize that they were trekking across ground unseen by
human eyes for centuries. The biodiversity in this part of the rainforest was
amazing. Everything was alive. But there was no time for enjoying the scenery.
They were on a mission, and time was of the essence.

Finally,
after several hours of rough hiking, they reached
Dumond’s
base. Randall marveled at the sprawling compound that arced across an enormous
clearing in the rainforest. Multiple buildings dotted the complex, which
stretched east, ending on the coast. Several of the structures were badly
burned, no doubt from
Kristoph’s
attack, and others
were riddled with bullet holes. The similarity between the sight before them
and the vision that Randall had when he was in the dream-like state with the
visitors,
was eerie. Once again, Randall was overcome with
awe at the realization that he had likely not dreamed that event.

“What
do we do now?” Sam asked.

“Now
we wait and keep an eye on things. We need to see if there’s anyone on guard.
I’m sure our friends wouldn’t just let anyone who happens by to just stroll
into the camp,” Randall replied

“That’s
true, but they also eliminated their competition.”

“Good
point, but I still think we need to watch for a guard.”

The
two sat crouched for some time, hidden by the dense underbrush. Their patience
was rewarded as a uniformed man appeared from the distance and walked in their
direction. As he walked, he scanned the perimeter of the encampment, looking
for signs of intruders. Slowly, the figure grew larger and larger until he was about
20 yards away. As the guard drew near, Randall began to wonder if their
decision to get so close to the clearing had been a wise one, but the soldier
abruptly turned, walking at a near right angle to where they lay hidden in the
heavy foliage. He had not seen them and continued on his assignment guarding
the perimeter. Sam and her father sat motionless as the soldier disappeared
into the distance.

“Okay,
we were here for 27 minutes before we saw him, so we have at least that much
time to make it over to the buildings. When you were here last time, where did
they keep you?”

“I
was in that building over there,” Sam said, pointing to the center building in
the semi-circular encampment.

“We’ll
have to move quickly. Are you ready?”

“As
ready as I’ll ever be.”

Hunched
over, the two ran to the side of the administration building, carefully
watching for signs of others exiting the structures. Much to their surprise, no
one came out, and they arrived undetected at the eastern side of the building.

As
Sam pressed herself into the exterior wall, Randall peered through the small
glass window of the exterior door. Through it, he spotted an empty hallway with
doors interspersed at semi-regular intervals. The lack of activity both in and
around the complex was unnerving, but Randall rationalized that his captors no
longer sensed a threat from the other group of mercenaries. He motioned to his
daughter that he was entering.

Randall
slowly pressed the wooden door inward, extending his arm as he opened the door
in case someone suddenly appeared in the hallway. After a moment’s time, it
appeared that the hallway would remain clear. He slipped inside, with Sam
following closely. The two hugged the wall as they crept down the passageway to
the first door. As they approached it, Randall used the same technique he had
used on the exterior door, peering through the glass window. The room was empty
and appeared to be some sort of break room with vending machines and a big
screen. They moved further down the hall to a windowless door.

“That’s
where they held Monica and me,” Sam whispered to her father, who nodded in
acknowledgement.

They
continued forward. With a suddenness that caught them both off guard, a door
down the hall and to the left opened inward. Quickly, Randall pushed Samantha
through the door to her former cell. Closing the door behind them, the two
huddled against the wall to the left of the now closed doorway. Hearts racing,
they waited anxiously to see if
Ackers’s
men had
noticed them. With each passing second, it appeared that they had narrowly
escaped being seen.

Finally,
after what seemed like an eternity, Randall whispered, “That was close. Let’s
see if the coast is clear.” He moved to the far side of the door, grasped the
handle, and opened it very slowly, peering out through the crack. As before,
there was no sign of life in the hallway. They had not been detected. Randall
motioned for his daughter to follow him, and the two resumed their search for
the medallion.

After
passing an additional room, the two discovered a promising sign. Peering
through the window, Randall viewed what appeared to be a study. Books and maps
were strewn about tables, and a computer sat idly on a desk. He pushed the door
open, slowly. In a moment, they were both inside the room. It became quickly
apparent that this was
Dumond’s
command and research
center. Maps of the jungle area were pinned to the wall with colorful
directional arrows drawn in careful arcs, representing the movement of people.
After a quick study, Sam realized that the different colors represented
different groups. Upon closer examination, Sam noticed date and time stamps on
the arcs. Clearly,
Dumond
had been aware of their
comings and goings, knowing where and when she and her father’s groups were
approaching the ruins.

“Sam!”

Samantha
glanced over and saw her father motioning her to his side. When she reached
him, Sam’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. On the wall in front of
her father was an aerial photo of a complex the size of a small city. The photo
was dated March 11, 2016, and from the look of the facility, it was nearly
complete. At the center of the complex was an elaborate containment facility
with a web of concrete-reinforced conduit emanating from the center. The
conduit fed into an elaborate complex of buildings. Sam immediately recognized
that this was an energy generating facility of a size and scale that she had
never seen. At the bottom of the image was a simple text line and date that
read, “Construction Complete, November 30, 2016.”

Even
more troubling than this were the images that surrounded the energy facility.
There, on the edge of the aerial photo of the energy plant, were pictures and
names arranged in a pinwheel fashion, encircling the facility. The individuals
appeared to be professional business people, dressed in suits and ties. Sam did
not recognize any of them, except for one, Johan
Kristoph
.
Under his name was written, “Accidental cave-in on April 16, 2016,” and his
name
was
crossed out. Sam scanned the other pictures
and realized that each had another short description and date attached to it.
Each date was in the future; yet, they were all before the scheduled completion
of the power plant. The descriptions were curious: “Industrial Accident, Diving
Tank Failure, and Skiing Accident.”

“Oh
my God, he’s going to kill them all and make it look like accidents.” There was
only one woman in the group, Margaret
Seivers
. Sam
pulled her cell phone from her backpack and took several pictures with the
camera, then immediately sent them to a personal email account.

“What
are you doing?”

“I
don’t know what this
Dumond
character is up to, but I
want to have some way of documenting what we’ve seen.”

“Good
idea, but I think we need to get going.”

“Okay,
just one minute.”

Sam
took a close-up photo of Margaret
Seivers
, whose
planned demise would occur on August 21, 2016 from a “Gasoline Leak aboard
Yacht.”

“Let’s
get going, Sam.”

“We
need to find the medallion first.”

Smiling,
Randall held out a small box containing the medallion and its chain, holding the
open container in front of Sam. “Found it in the safe in the corner,” Randall
said, pointing to a wall safe across the room.

“How
did you know the combination?”

“I
tried various combinations of eleven, sixteen, twenty and thirty until I found
the right one.”

Sam
looked puzzled, and Randall realized that she had not seen the connection.

“The
date the power plan will be complete.” Randall grinned at his daughter’s
expression when she realized how her father had solved the riddle. “The old man
still has a few tricks up his sleeve, kiddo.”

Sam
gave her father a sideways glance with a fake stern look and then broke into a
quiet chuckle. “Let’s blow this pop stand.”

The
two quietly made their way back to the door and resumed their skulking
positions pressed against the wall. Randall slowly moved his head upward,
peering through the small window and checking both ends of the hallway. He
looked at Sam and nodded. Slowly, he turned the handle of the door and opened
it, slightly.

Just
as Randall began opening the door, another door down the hall, and to the left,
opened outward, and he could see a uniformed arm on the door handle. In a
quick, jerking motion, Randall pulled his own door closed and scooted quickly
back into the room, nearly knocking his daughter over in the process. Sam
stumbled backward, but caught herself before falling to the floor. Randall
turned in one motion, grabbed her arm, and pulled both of them against the wall
and out of the line of sight of the window.

From
the hallway, they could hear boot steps marching in their direction. Each step
grew louder as the soldier approached their room. Sam’s heart was racing, and
she searched the room for a possible hiding spot, in case the soldier’s next
stop was their room. Her panic peaked when she realized that there was nowhere
to hide. Grabbing her father’s hand, she could feel his heartbeat as the two
pressed themselves into the wall, willing the soldier to walk by their hiding
spot.

The
boot steps stopped right outside their door. Sam’s breathing became heavy, as
she tried her best to calm herself. The door handle began to turn slowly. They
were trapped. As the door opened, it seemed that all of the air in the room had
been sucked outside, and Sam felt like a large weight had been placed upon her
chest. She could hear a
conversation taking
place in
the hallway.

“Sergeant,
the Colonel wants a word with you.”

“Just
a moment, I need to get a map of the temple area for our recon plans.”

“Immediately,
Sergeant!”

The
door closed and Sam heard the sound of boot steps once again, but this time
they were walking away. Slowly, her breathing returned to a semblance of
normalcy. Sam blinked and looked at her father. His face was ashen. She could
see him breathing heavily, a look of panic in his eyes. She moved to him. “Are
you okay?”

“He
saw me.”

“What
do you mean? If he saw you, they would have hauled us both back in.”

“Just
for a second, I could swear he saw my face looking back at him.”

“We
need to get out of here now.”