The Vilcabamba Prophecy: A Nick Randall Novel (9 page)

“Not so great. No
offense, Dr. Randall, but this has not been a good trip for me.”

“You can call me Sam.”

Sam gently eased Monica
to the floor and got her a pillow from the couch, placing it under her head.
The room was a mess, broken glass and dust littered the ground and furniture.
She cleaned the debris and dust from the couch as best as she could and walked
back to Monica.

“Can you get up? I think
you would be more comfortable on the couch.”

“Are you sure the
shaking’s over?”

“I think so. Here you
go.” Sam leaned over, reaching under Monica’s shoulders, helping her to her
feet. Monica was wobbly, as the two walked over to the couch.

“Thanks, Dr. Randall,”
Monica said, meekly.

“You’re welcome. I’m
going to see if I can get some ice for your head.” Sam walked with
determination to the door and banged on it, yelling for her captors to open it.
Somewhat to her surprise, the door swung outward and she found herself face to
face with two uniformed men, sub-machine guns in hand. It was the second time
that day that Sam had looked down the barrel of a gun, and it was equally
terrifying on both occasions.

“What the hell do you want?”
one of the guards snarled.

“My friend is hurt. She
banged her head badly, and we need some ice and something for the pain.” Sam
made eye contact with the angry guard, never letting her eyes leave his.

“Who gives a damn about
your friend?”

“Look, if your boss wants
to drag us through the jungle in this heat, he’s not going to want us moving
slowly because we’re hurt. All I’m asking for is some ice and aspirin.”

“Back up.” It was the
other guard, who was now taking the lead. “Move over to that corner.” He
motioned with the end of his gun. Sam obeyed, putting her hands up and moving
to the far corner of the room. “Check out the one on the couch.”

The angry guard grunted
his disapproval, lowered his weapon, and walked over to Monica, who was still
rubbing the lump and groaning in pain. “She’s telling the truth, this one
doesn’t look so good.” The angry guard shot a menacing glance in Sam’s
direction and walked back over to his comrade.

“We’ll see what we can
get you,” he barked, abruptly closing the door, as the heavy lock clicked back
into place. Sam could hear the two men speaking briefly, followed by the sound
of their heavy footsteps walking away.

Sam thought about how
appearances could be misleading. Even though she gave the outward appearance of
being calm and brave, on the inside she was an absolute wreck. Scratching her
head, she walked back over to Monica and noticed something odd on the floor.
There, by the table near the couch, Sam noticed that her father’s book had been
knocked to the floor by the earthquake. Squatting to pick it up, she noticed
for the first time that the cover seemed to have a tear in it. Looking more
closely, Sam realized that it wasn’t a tear, but rather, a seam in the leather.
Picking up the book with her left hand, Sam examined the seam more closely. She
gently lifted the fold and reached inside, where she discovered a piece of
paper tucked away in a hidden compartment. The paper was folded into quarters
and was worn. Unfolding the paper, she realized it was part of the clue she had
been searching for, earlier.

“What is it, Dr.
Randall?”

“Excuse me, Monica?”

“You just said, ‘Oh my
God!’ Is everything all right?”

Sam hadn’t realized that
she had spoken. She turned the paper over to look at the back, but the back was
blank. She rotated it once more in her hand, so she could see the writing. Her
father had written this information and, apparently, hadn’t wanted it to be
discovered. The note explained the missing tablet from the jungle temple and
translated some of the symbols that Sam had been unable to decipher. According
to her father’s research, the markings on the medallion were the inverse of the
markings on the wall of the tablet room in
Vilcabamba
.
The words on the edge of the medallion were also translated on the sheet.
Written on the sheet under the medallion writing, in large print was, “THE
KEYSTONE.”

“What can this mean?”

“Dr. Randall?”

Sam strode across the
room to her backpack. Unzipping the main compartment in a single motion, she
reached into the main compartment and gingerly removed the medallion. She
looked at it more closely this time, with the trained, objective eye of a
seasoned scientist. Around its outer edge,
were
unevenly spaced notches reminiscent of those found on a large gear. The strange
writing on the medallion was exactly the same as the phrase written by her
father on the sheet of paper. At its center, there were pictures of a square
made of small rectangles stacked upon each other with a round jewel in the
middle—a jewel that resembled the one in the middle of the medallion.

“Oh my God.”

“Dr. Randall, you’re
worrying me. What’s the matter?” Now Monica’s voice sounded a bit more
demanding. As Sam turned to face her, she noticed that Monica was sitting up on
the couch, hands on the edge of the cushion, her feet flat on the floor. Her
arms were stiff and her leg muscles were flexing. She looked like a coiled
spring ready to snap.

“I think this medallion
is a key to something, but what?” Sam held it by the chain with the inscription
facing Monica. “See the serrations around the outer edge?” Monica nodded. “I
had originally thought that this was simply an ornamental design, but now I
think they serve the purpose of fitting into a precisely carved opening. I also
hadn’t noticed the importance of this raised ridge around the jewel in the
center. If you look closely, the ridge has tiny grooves all around it. Almost
like the grooves are meant to help you get a grip on the ridge.”

Monica looked confused.

“The writing is also a
clue. If my father is right, and he usually is, the inscription reads ‘THE
KEYSTONE.’ My father was away on research when he got a call that someone had
retrieved a significant relic for him. Since he wasn’t home, my mom called him
and he asked her to get it. He said it was very important and told her to get
it as soon as she could. She left to pick it up, but crashed her car and died
before she could retrieve it for him. Somehow, my father must have gotten the
medallion later.”

Monica was wide-eyed with
confusion, and Sam realized that Monica had not read the tablets so she didn’t
understand the history of the jungle tribe. Sam carefully explained the entire
story to Monica: the phone call from Francisco, her mother’s untimely death,
the history of the tribe as explained on the tablets. Slowly, the veil of
confusion surrounding Monica began to lift. Just as Sam was finishing her
explanation, the women were startled by the sound of the locked door opening.
The first face they saw was the guard who had told them they would see if they
could get help for Monica.

“Come with us, we have
someone who can take a look at your friend’s head.”

Sam and Monica looked at
each other for a moment, then got to their feet and walked toward the door. As
they approached the entryway, they noticed that the friendly guard wasn’t alone.
His associate, along with two other men, armed with MP5 machine guns, flanked
him. The nice guard led the two women while the two other guards flanked them.
They exited the building, walking across the compound to another structure.

Sam heard a loud cracking
sound, just as the two trailing guards fell to the ground. Before anyone could
respond, Sam watched as the guard on her right was struck on the rear-right
side of his head, his right eye exploding outward in a spray of red. The guard
on her left fared no better than his partner, as a .223 round blew his neck
forward, exploding it onto Sam and Monica. Sam recoiled at the sight, stepping
away from the corpses. Next came a series of small explosions around the
compound, causing complete chaos. The compound was under attack by an unseen
enemy.

Dumond’s
men were caught entirely off guard. The front guard spun toward the two women
he was supposed to be escorting to the medical staff, only to see them
sprinting toward the jungle at the edge of the compound.

“Command, this is
Sergeant Wall, the prisoners are escaping, we’re under attack!” The Sergeant’s
pursuit was brutally interrupted by several rounds of small arms fire that
forced him to dive to the ground for cover.

The two women raced
through the jungle, trying to put as much distance between themselves and their
captors. The faster of the two, Monica, dashed three yards ahead of Sam.

“Where are we going,
Monica?” Sam yelled.

“Keep running!” Monica
barked in response.

They ran for some time,
the dense foliage slapping at their bodies, as they pushed forward. Sam’s lungs
burned with oxygen deprivation.

 
“Monica, stop for God’s sake!”

Monica stopped, bent over
at the waist, and braced her hands against her knees. Sam did the same,
entirely out of breath.

“What the hell happened
back there?” Sam urged. She didn’t expect the response she was about to get.

“The plan worked,” Monica
said under her breath.

“What plan, Monica? What
are you talking about?”

Monica stood and faced
Sam, holding a pistol in her hand.

“My plan Dr. Randall. I
called the soldiers who attacked
Dumond’s
base when
we were in the room. I contacted them after you showed me the medallion and
explained what it meant.”

“Who Monica? Who did you
call?”

“Mr.
Kristoph
.
He hired me to find out what
Dumond
was doing. Now, I
know, and now, I have to kill you,” Monica said, tears forming in her eyes.

“Monica, I don’t
understand.”

“That’s right, Dr.
Randall, you don’t understand. There’s no way you could understand what I have
been through. You couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to be a small
child, treated like a piece of luggage, being moved from home to home, for no
reason at all. You can’t imagine the horror of the things I saw, heard … and
felt, as a helpless innocent girl, having to live with strangers who didn’t
give a damn about me.”

“Monica, I …”

“Stay back!” Monica
cocked the hammer of the gun. “You probably had everything you ever wanted when
you were a little girl, maybe a nice princess room, a comfortable bed, pretty
clothes … and most of all, a loving mother and father who doted on you.” The
tears were cascading down her cheeks, now. “Well now I have a chance to set
things right for myself. Mr.
Kristoph
promised me
enough money to take care of myself for the rest of my life. Isn’t it fair that
I get a chance to be happy and taken care of? Isn’t it?”

“Monica, you don’t have
to do this, I can help you.”

Monica
gave a small snort, her voice quivering. “I don’t need your help.” She lifted
the
Ruger
P95, and while looking down the barrel with
one eye, aimed the handgun directly at Sam’s chest. Sam closed her eyes,
anticipating the sound of the gun going off and the impact of the round in her
chest. Then came the terrible moment when she heard the shot that would end her
life.

Standing
breathless, Sam realized that she was still alive. Opening her eyes, she saw
Monica lying face down on the ground. The impact of the round had catapulted
her body several feet forward, and she lay there, eyes wide open, her dead
fingers still clutching the pistol. Sam blinked in disbelief, then looked up
and saw a huge soldier towering over her holding an assault rifle.

“Where
do you think you were going?” Colonel Frank
Ackers
had found her.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Randall was
surrounded. He was deep within the bowels of the Earth, hopelessly cut off from
any help, as he stood facing a group of strange looking beings. He took a quick
count in his mind, but stopped when he reached twenty. In spite of being so
badly outnumbered, he didn’t feel afraid. There was something about the
creatures that seemed to be … calming. Randall mentally reassessed the term
“creature.” Is that really what they were?

They
seemed humanoid in form, but didn’t resemble any group of humans he had ever
seen or read about in his thirty-plus years as a scientist. Physically, they
were approximately the size of the
Capanhuaco
, but
there was something about their appearance that was otherworldly. Unlike their
jungle counterparts, these creatures possessed no body hair, whatsoever, and
their skin was milky white, probably an adaptation to life underground,
the
professor thought. But there was something else. It took
Randall a moment to calibrate his scientific mind, but he finally realized that
these creatures possessed no discernible mouths. If that was the case, how did
they communicate or eat?

Your daughter and your friends are in
danger
. The thought seemed to appear in his mind.
There are people holding them hostage, and
they intend to force your daughter to decipher your research notes and find you,
along with our city.
Again, the thoughts just appeared in Randall’s mind.

“Are
you communicating with me?” Randall inquired to none of the creatures in
particular. Suddenly, one of them came forward and stood directly in front of
the professor.

We are. Your daughter and your
friends are in great danger, and you must go and help them. You must also bring
the medallion to us; the time of reunification is upon us. Our people must be
reunited before the great journey can begin.

“What
great journey, where are you going?”

Our time here is at an end, and we
must return home.

“Where
is home for you? Where did you come from? How long have you been here?” The
professor’s mind raced.

We realize that you have many
questions, Dr. Randall, but there is no time for this now.
The creature stepped forward and reached out an arm. Randall involuntarily bent
at the waist and brought his head to rest at the creature’s arm level. The
creature placed its hand upon his head and closed its eyes. What Randall felt
next was unlike anything he had experienced in his life. He felt as light as a
feather and seemed to be floating into the air inside the great cavern. At the
same time, he felt that his body was still in the same spot. He felt his mind
go higher until suddenly he could no longer see his body, the creatures, or the
cavern at all.

As
Randall floated off into the dreamlike state, his mind wandered through
different scenes. At first, he was entombed in an inky blackness that enveloped
him like the great whale from the tale of “Jonah.” Yet, he could tell that he
was moving forward slowly, at first, but building speed. Ahead, he could see
the twinkling of tiny buttons of light way off in the distance. Before he knew
it, he was flying by them at such blazing speeds that they appeared as long
streaks of whiteness trailing off into the distance. He felt like he was
traveling down the tube of a kaleidoscope, with streaks of different colored
lights with odd shapes traveling by him so close that he felt he could touch
them. Suddenly he awoke in a field with a blinding sun beating down on him so
brightly that he had to turn away. Randall buried his face in his lap as the
brightness burned his eyes. He heard voices and realized that he wasn’t alone.
He blinked quickly, trying to get his eyes to readjust to the light. The voices
sounded strange, speaking a language he had never heard before, yet he could
understand them. More oddly still, the voices sounded familiar.

Slowly,
the world came into view, as the blurry images came into focus. Randall was in
the middle of a grassy meadow
;
the stalks of grass
chest high and swaying rhythmically with the breeze. The rich smell of fresh
grass tickled his nose, as his senses came alive. He noticed three people
standing near him, but something was drawing their attention away. They were
dressed in animal hides and pointing and speaking excitedly at something he
couldn’t quite make out. Finally, he was able to see clearly and was amazed
when he realized what was happening. His friends were pointing at a shiny metal
craft, spitting fire from its large rocket motors,
settling
down gently in the field. Randall stood and discovered that, like his comrades,
he was also wearing nothing more than an animal hide and rudimentary foot
coverings.

The
craft gleamed in the bright midday sun, the reflection hurting his eyes. A soft
hum emanated from the ship, and a small opening appeared on its underbelly.
Slowly, several small shapes appeared from the craft and approached Randall and
his new friends. The group huddled closely, unsure of what to do. Then, one of
the creatures spoke to them, and Randall understood. The crewmembers of the
spacecraft were from another planet, and had come to learn about this new world
and its inhabitants. In his dreamlike state, Randall slowly came to grasp that
he was not on Earth, but on another world. Vaguely, he remembered being in
Vilcabamba
and meeting its inhabitants, and then he was
suddenly in this new world. It slowly dawned on Randall that he was not
actually experiencing these events, but was merely watching them, like a movie
seen through the eyes of someone else. IMAX had nothing on this!

Randall
blinked his eyes, and the scene changed. It was now a much more modern setting
and he found himself looking at a high-tech lab inside a very neat and tidy
building. Men in suits and lab coats were speaking to each other about
something very important. Randall could tell by the serious tone of their
voices and the grave looks on their faces. Some of the men seemed to be dressed
in some sort of military garb. Strangely enough, in this current setting,
Randall noted that these new creatures looked very similar to humans, except
that they seemed a little taller, and their features were correspondingly
larger. Randall fleetingly thought that these strangers, properly trained and
coached, would dominate a team of human basketball players.

That
thought passed quickly; however, when Randall saw “him.” Or was it a “
her
?” There, standing in the midst of the circle of the men
in suits and lab coats, was an even taller creature standing eight to nine feet
in height, its body clad in some sort of shiny metallic fabric. The slender
creature had long, gangly arms that nearly reached to the floor. It’s
hairless,
oval shaped head sat perched upon a long, cylindrical
neck that rose from narrow, sloping shoulders. However, Randall realized that
it wasn’t the creature’s odd appearance that was the cause of his concern. The
creature was delivering a message about the star that this small world orbited.
Apparently, the star was becoming unstable and would soon expand, swallowing
the planet in its fiery grip. The creature was informing the others that their
world was facing imminent doom. The only solution was to build an underground
shelter and move as many of the native inhabitants into it, as soon as
possible. The alien was carrying a familiar medallion and was explaining to the
others that he could help them. He couldn’t stop the star from exploding, but
he could help them build an underground city. Unfortunately, there would only
be room for a very limited number of survivors.

Randall
blinked; and again, the picture changed. He was now in an underground city,
which looked very similar to
Vilcabamba
. Once again,
he was in the midst of several inhabitants, but they looked very different from
the ones he had just seen in the lab. These creatures were much smaller, and
their heads and eyes were much bigger than the rest of their bodies. Their skin
was milky white. He, immediately, recognized them as the creatures he had seen
in
Vilcabamba
. Randall, sadly, realized that these
were the survivors of the doomed world and were, in fact, ancestors of the
inhabitants of
Vilcabamba
.

They
were studying something, intently, but he couldn’t make out what. He moved
closer and saw that they were examining something in space. On a large,
recessed section of wall was something akin to a computer monitor, only much
larger. Filling the screen was a portion of space resplendent with stars,
nebula and various other items. The creatures were focused on one, small,
section of the sky, where there appeared to be a spiral galaxy. They had
significantly enlarged the image of one of the outer arms of the galaxy, where
their ultimate target appeared to reside.
 
On the outer edge of the screen, small characters of a type that matched
what Randall had found in his research about
Vilcabamba
,
zoomed by.
Finally, the screen slowed to a crawl on a planetary system circling a
yellow-tinged star. Randall could see smaller pinpoints of light circling the
star, moving in large uneven ovals. The screen continued its slow enlargement
of the planetary system, passing the outer rocky rings. Soon, it had passed the
outer planetary bodies, and its zoom-like effect slowed down even more until a
small, pale blue world started coming into focus. The planet became larger,
until it nearly filled the screen, its large oceans interrupted by irregular
outcroppings of land. It rotated slowly on the large screen, and it dawned on
Randall that Italy really did look like a boot, when seen from space.

Discussions
were taking place among the occupants of the room, though no one spoke. Once
again, Randall hypothesized that these creatures had developed the capacity to
communicate telepathically, and he was listening to their discussion. The
discussion that was taking place had to do with sending a contingency to the
planet to study its primitive inhabitants. Apparently, the species on this
distant, alien world were in the infant stages of developing their societies
and technology, having reached a critical juncture in their development. The
creatures decided to send an exploratory team to the planet to study the
inhabitants until they could determine if the inhabitants had the capacity for
space travel and if they warranted direct interaction with more advanced
species.

Next,
Randall found himself floating above Earth, from the vantage point of a
satellite. The Earth rotated slowly beneath him, and he was overcome with its
grandeur. He began descending through the atmosphere, at first slowly, then
picking up speed. Following a long arcing pattern, Randall traced the curvature
of the Earth in his mind’s eye. The sky was a blinding blue, punctuated by the
occasional wispy white cloud. As he drew nearer to the surface, the complex
design of modern cities came into view, and Randall realized he had returned to
the present and was viewing occurrences in real time. The blue-green hue of the
ocean fell off to the left, as he made landfall in South America—on Peru,
to be exact.

The
jungles were lush and green, and he could feel the humidity thick in the air as
he descended. A small encampment in the middle of the jungle came into view.
There were signs of an armed conflict, with structures damaged by explosions
and gunfire. Dead men lay on the ground, while soldiers with guns stood guard
over others who were unarmed. The view continued to become clearer, and Randall
focused on the unarmed persons. One was a woman, who appeared to be in her
30’s. “Sam,” the professor said, involuntarily.