shaped skull is disproportionately large, like that of a monstrous fire ant. Instead of being positioned above its three-humped shoulder, the skull extends horizontally in front of the chest like a turtle’s neck, giving the creature an upright yet squat appearance. There are no facial features other than a slit of a mouth and two pupilless eyes, which blaze a burned yellow against the dark skin covering.
The eight-and-a-half-foot being continues to rise out of the silvery lake, its tall, grotesque, angular body devoid of hair or clothing. The thorax is V-shaped and powerful, the abdomen slender, connecting to a pair of squat legs-humanoid in design-except they are twice as thick below the knee as above.
The upper arms are dense and powerful, and hang stiffly from the wide shoulder girdle. The elbows are ball joint in design, allowing the heavy forearms to rotate 360 degrees.
Most frightening of all are the being’s hands. Huge and clawlike in appearance, they support four slender, scalpel-sharp fingers. The digits are three times as long as the palm and spaced wide, giving each hand an almost spiderlike appearance.
Fully exposed, the being walk-glides across the lake’s mirrorlike surface, sloshing toward the eastern shore.
The two soldiers race to reach the alabaster tree before the alien.
Ten seconds until Nexus. The computerized voice startles Manny.
Nine… eight… seven…
Dr. Mohr moves closer to the glass, his expression suddenly all business. ‘Come on, come on, you can do it this time.’
The alien approaches the thickly rooted tree, reaching for the skull.
Three… two… one Twin streaks of ice-blue lightning… a blinding flash of crimson… then nothingness.
The violet lights return.
The lake is gone, as is the alien, the tree, and the entire hellish underworld. In its place-the sterile gray emptiness of an immense holographic suite.
Down on one knee, holding his cloaked head in his hands, is the warrior in white. His companion in black is gone.
Dr. Mohr waits a moment, then touches the comm link on his shirt collar. ‘Are you all right?’
The soldier nods weakly.
‘Success?’
The man in white shakes his head-no.
Mohr pinches his brow, obviously disappointed. ‘Dominique is here. She brought her son.’
The man in white stands. Limps toward the glass wall and looks up. Reaches for the hidden latches of his body armor. Slowly removes his hood.
Immanuel presses his face to the glass.
The white hair is longer, the eyes still piercing azure blue, cold and calculating.
Jake…
28
11:34 a.m.
It is the most prestigious and powerful address in the world, a political village heavy with history, situated on eighteen acres. First occupied by President John Adams on November 1, 1800, it nearly burned to the ground fourteen years later at the hands of British troops. The home would be rebuilt and refurbished, with colonnades and office space added to both its east and west wings. While a vast subterranean control center would later be excavated beneath the dwelling, the 132-room mansion itself has remained virtually unchanged for over two centuries.
The White House: America’s hub of democracy and the seat of world power. Within its 233-year-old walls are routinely discussed the future… and fate of humanity.
Lilith Robinson-Mabus, newly crowned queen of Mabus Tech Industries, saunters past the big Victorian fireplace of the State Dining Room, pausing to read the inscription set upon the mantel.
‘I PRAY HEAVEN TO BESTOW THE BEST OF BLESSINGS ON THIS HOUSE AND ON ALL THAT SHALL HEREAFTER INHABIT IT. M AY NONE BUT HONEST AND WISE MEN EVER RULE UNDER THIS ROOF.’
– PRESIDENT JOHN ADAMS
Lilith scoffs. ‘Male chauvinist fool. If women had been in charge around here, the world would be a lot less screwed up.’
An aide enters the room, one of President John Zwawa’s personal assistants. ‘Mrs. Mabus, on behalf of the entire White House staff, let me extend my deepest condolences-’
‘Don’t bother. What time is my meeting?’
‘The president says he can see you immediately. If you’ll follow me.’
Lilith Eve Robinson’s descent into the Mexican cave had exposed her schizophrenic brain to an extremely powerful low-frequency electrical field. Like an electrostatic tuning fork, the effect served to rephase the girl’s already imbalanced brain waves.
Thought is analogous to energy. Firing at microseconds, it possesses no boundaries, not even the limits of time and space. In a manner transcending the principles of radio wave propagation theory, thought energy can be sensed by remote viewers who are highly tuned to these psychic phenomenon.
The phenomenon of reliving a previously seen or experienced event (memory) is an example of present- thought energy interacting with one’s past. Though the encounter is usually brief, the mental interplay, or deja vu, is quite real.
Exposure to the cave’s electromagnetic amplification enabled Lilith’s pathological mind access into the psychic realm. Shortly after her descent, she began hearing another voice, one far different than those of her self-created companions.
‘I can hear whispers,’ she had told Don Rafelo. ‘The voice speaks to me as I fall asleep.’
‘It is telepathy. The communication is meant to guide you.’
‘But who is it? How do they know me?’
‘The whispers originate from both the near future and distant past.’
‘Why do you speak in riddles? Just tell me who is speaking to me.’
The old man grinned. ‘You are in communication with… yourself.’
Three years after her ‘descent’ into the Mayan Underworld, the seventeen-year-old beauty, now traveling under the name Lilith Aurelia, had arrived at the 2030 World Entrepreneurs Association Meeting in Miami in search of a mate. To bait her hook, she wore a strapless cocoa ‘flesh-hugger’ evening gown that matched her skin and barely contained her breasts. Long, wavy ebony hair fell past her tantalizing cleavage clear down to her taut, exposed stomach and gold belly button ring.
The barely legal man-eater sipped her martini as she casually scanned the ballroom crowd. Nothing but pawns, and a few gray-haired bishops. The Queen of the Succubi is here, now where is my king?
She watched as her escort, NRA activist Ben Merchant, worked the room. The middle-aged defender of the Second Amendment, dressed in a white Armani tux, wore a black rose tucked in his lapel buttonhole and a Beretta in his ankle holster. Lilith liked the homosexual, whom she had met a year earlier in Mexico City. He was shallow and greedy-easy to read, with the type of weaknesses she enjoyed exploiting. The constant name-dropping was annoying, but nonetheless, he was loyal and seemed to get things done.
‘Excuse me, have we met?’
She turned to her right, glancing down at the slight Hispanic man in his late fifties. ‘And you are?’
‘Deputy Mayor Raul Hernandez, at your service. Are you a… um… local girl, or-’
‘Deputy Mayor? Is that something one volunteers for, or do you get season tickets to the theater with the
