The Mayan Resurrection (10 page)

Dominique sits up in bed, gazing through heavy lids at her new family. Edith beams like a proud grandmother as she coddles the dark-haired twin. Ennis Chaney sits back in an easy chair holding the fair-haired infant, the gruffness gone from the old man’s weathered face.

Rabbi Steinberg sits on the edge of Dominique’s bed, taking everything in. ‘So? Have you decided on names? You know, it’s Jewish custom to use the first initial of a deceased loved one to honor the dead.’

‘I’m going to name the dark-haired twin Immanuel, after Isadore.’

Edie looks up, the mention of her late husband, causing her eyes to moisten. ‘Your father would be honored.’

‘We’ll call him Manny for short. He has Hispanic blood running through him, you can see it in his eyes.’

‘And what about this blue-eyed fellow,’ Chaney asks. ‘How about an ‘M’ name, after the father?’

‘The father’s not dead!’ Dominique blurts out the words, the unexpected burst of anger exploding from her mouth.

‘Doll, take it easy.’ Edie hands Immanuel to the rabbi, then takes Dominique’s hand.

‘Sorry … I’m just tired. It’s been a long night, a long pregnancy.’

‘It’s okay.’

Dominique looks at the infant sleeping in the crook of Chaney’s arm. ‘Mick’s father, his name was Julius. I thought I’d name the baby Jacob.’

The rabbi smiles his approval. ‘A wonderful choice. Jacob is Hebrew for “he will prevent.”’

‘I also want Mick’s last name. Rabbi, can you marry us in absentia?’

Steinberg nods. ‘I think we can do that. Dominique Gabriel it is.’

‘And Ennis, I’d like you to be the boys’ godfather.’

‘An old fart like me?’ He smiles. ‘Be my honor. Now you listen,’ he rasps. ‘I’ve made arrangements to move your family to a private compound on the Gulf Coast, someplace you can live without being under the constant watch of the media. Gated grounds, your own personal chef, housekeepers, and a twenty-four-hour-a-day security team. The twins’ll have private tutors when they get older, and starting today, I’m assigning my own personal bodyguards to your family. You and yours will never want for anything. That was my promise to Mick.’

‘Thank you.’ She smiles through tears of relief. ‘There’s just one other thing I need from you. Julius Gabriel had a journal.
It was confiscated after Mick … disappeared. I want the twins to have it. I want them to be … prepared.’

Reverend Morehead hears the sounds of a baby crying as he reenters the sweltering stucco home. ‘Madelina?’

The heavyset midwife is in the kitchen, an infant in her arms. ‘Look. There’s your grandpa. Say hi, Grandpa!’

‘My Lord, will you look at his eyes, I’ve never seen eyes so blue.’

‘Silly, it’s not a he, she’s a little girl.’

‘A girl?’ Quenton feels the hairs rise along the back of his neck.

‘Where’s the father?’

‘Puking his guts up outside. Quickly, take the child and—’

The screen door slams open and Virgil approaches, a line of spittle running from his lower lip to his stained tee shirt, a ring of white powder visible in his left nostril. ‘Okay, le’ me see my boy.’

Quenton and the midwife exchange frightened looks. ‘Now Virgil—’

The minister steps in front of the wailing infant.

‘Outta my way, Quenton, I said I wanna see my son.’

‘Virgil, the Lord … the Lord has blessed you with a child. A daughter.’

Virgil stops. Facial muscles contort into a mask of rage. ‘A girl?’

‘Easy, son—’

‘A girl ain’t shit! A girl’s nuthin’ but another goddam mouth to feed and clothe and listen to her whining.’ He points at the screaming infant. ‘Give her to me!’

‘No.’ Quenton holds his ground. The nurse stands, preparing to flee with the child.

‘I want you to sober up, Virgil. I want you to go to my home and—’

Virgil punches the minister in the gut, dropping him to his knees.

The midwife tucks the infant under one arm, brandishing a kitchen knife in the other. ‘Ya’ll git outta here, Virgil. Go on!’

Virgil stares at the blade quivering in the fat woman’s fist. In one motion he grabs her wrist, wrenching the knife free.

The midwife screams, backing away.

Virgil stares at the infant, then hears Madelina moaning from inside the bedroom. ‘Damn no-good bitch …’ Leaving the kitchen, he ducks inside the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

‘Oh, Lord, oh, God—Quenton, get up! Get up, Quenton!’

The minister struggles to his feet as sounds of slapping flesh and Madelina’s screams fill the home. Quenton turns to the midwife. ‘Go! Take the child to the neighbors and call the police!’

The woman hurries out the back door.

Quenton bangs on the locked bedroom door. ‘Virgil? Virgil Robinson, you leave her be! You hear me?’

The screaming stops, the sudden silence deafening.

The minister backs away from the door and the approaching footsteps.

Virgil emerges, his white tee shirt splattered scarlet. He casts a hollow look at the minister, then stumbles into the night.

Quenton Morehead peeks inside the bedroom. Gags. Crosses himself.

Belle Glade police will arrest Virgil Robinson hours later in the apartment of Luanda Melendez, a thirty-nine-year-old ‘dancer.’

The mutilated body of Madelina Lilith Aurelia will be buried two days later.

The world is a dangerous place to live;
not because of the people who are evil,
but because of the people
who don’t do anything about it.

—
ALBERT EINSTEIN

TOP SECRET/MAJESTIC-12

WARNING: Unauthorized access or viewing of this document without the appropriate authorizations will result in permanent incarceration or sanction by authorized use of deadly force.

PROGRESS REPORT ON SPECIAL ACCESS PROGRAM
GOLDEN FLEECE

27 October 2013

HUNAHPU GENETICS

1. A thorough physiological and genetics examination of the Gabriel Twins reveals some unique findings. Geneticists have isolated a mutation in chromosome six, in segments 6p21 through 6p26. This genetic anomaly (Hunahpu marker) is dominant in Jacob Gabriel (white-haired, blue-eyed twin)
but so far recessive in Immanuel Gabriel (dark-haired, darkeyed twin). Although only five weeks old, physical and mental disparities among the boys are already apparent. While both boys are far above average, Jacob’s responses to voice recognition are on par with three-year olds. Incredibly, Jacob can already walk and can support his body weight by gripping a horizontal bar for more than two minutes. GOLDEN FLEECE trainers assigned to the Gabriel compound as developmental teachers claim the child prodigy’s improvements can be measured daily.

2. Unfortunately, Jacob’s physical and mental capabilities may be rendered moot as he gets older. The Hunahpu gene is part of the same chromosome that leads to paranoid schizophrenia. (Note: Michael Gabriel was incarcerated in an asylum for this same diagnosis.) While the twins are not yet old enough to exhibit this type of deviant behavior, it is recommended that all GOLDEN FLEECE personnel assigned to the Gabriel compound be advised.

Submitted:

W. Louis McDonald
GOLDEN FLEECE

27 October 2013

OCTOBER 27, 2016: LONGBOAT KEY, FLORIDA

The barrier island of Longboat Key is an eleven-mile stretch of land located between the tropical waters of Sarasota Bay and the Gulf of Mexico. Considered a private island-paradise, the resort town is home to 8,000 permanent residents and 150 relocated members of the National Guard and their families.

Follow the pristine alabaster beach south past Fire Station Number 2 and you will reach a restricted zone. What was once the Quick Point Nature Preserve has been turned into an Army base. Perimeter electrical fencing is monitored around the clock by security cameras and armed flying drones keep trespassers away. The entire island and surrounding waters are considered a no-fly, no-boating zone, the restriction enforced by 20-mm guns mounted on turrets on both the Gulf and Bay sides of the preserve. Two Coast Guard cutters patrol the
surrounding Gulf waters. Boaters and divers are no longer permitted south of Fire Station Number 2.

Three concrete-and-steel dwellings set in a wide ‘H’ formation, occupy the southern tip of the island. The building on the right is a training center, complete with classrooms, the latest virtual-reality combat simulators, a weight room, basketball court, and a Faraday chamber, impervious to electromagnetic waves. The building on the left is a three-storey residence, its luxury suites occupied by the bodyguards, Salt and Pepper, and the private staff that serves the occupants of the central facility.

The six-bedroom, eight-bathroom beachfront home at the center of the ‘H’ belongs to Dominique Gabriel and her two sons. The house has two wings, separated by an enormous kitchen, dining room, living room, virtual-reality chamber, and den.

Dominique waits patiently while the ABC
20/20
film crew sets up in her living room, under the watchful eyes of her bodyguards. Today marks the first appearance her family has ever made before the cameras. With the presidential election only a week away, and Ennis Chaney trailing Peter Mabus in the polls, Dominique feels it important to address the issue that has been swaying public opinion over the last thirty-six months.

Barbara Walters makes her way carefully across the living room carpet, now covered in a myriad of electrical wires. The renowned reporter has come out of retirement just for this interview.

‘Hello, Dominique, I’m so glad to finally meet you.’

‘Me too. I really appreciate your network coming on such short notice. Mabus’s lies have gotten way out of hand.’

‘Our viewers will want to hear all about it. When do I get to meet the twins?’

‘They have a karate lesson in twenty minutes. I thought we’d do it then.’

‘Terrific, wait … did you say a karate lesson? The boys are only three. Isn’t that a bit young?’

Dominique only smiles.

Dominique registers the heat of the lights on her face as she sits opposite the ABC host on the beige L-shaped sofa.

‘Tell us why, Dominique, after all these years of living in seclusion, you felt it important to share your family and home with our viewers.’

‘Peter Mabus has been using the public’s fear to spew his hatred and lies for too long. This man is a phony, his entire political campaign taking advantage of a religious renaissance that has swept the country since the events of December 2012. What happened back then was not religious or sacrilegious in nature, it was simply an extraterrestrial event. Thousands of years ago, an advanced race of humans came to our world to prepare modern man to face the 2012 threat. These humans, who called themselves the Guardian, helped educate ancient man. They were our allies, our friends, our leaders. They taught our ancestors about astronomy and architecture, and built great temples and shrines, which they used to conceal relay stations that would be used in 2012 to emit a high-energy EM beacon. It was this beacon that thwarted the nuclear missiles that nearly
destroyed us. My husband, Michael Gabriel, was one of the Guardian’s genetically chosen humans, one of the few amongst us capable of accessing the Guardian’s vessel to activate the array. He was not the Antichrist, as Peter Mabus’s fanatical followers make him out to be, he was a man, confused about his destiny, but he was a hero, and he risked his life to save us all.’

‘And what happened to Michael? Where is he now?’

‘I don’t know. The biological entity he entered was capable of moving between dimensions, at least that’s what I’m told. Both the entity and Mick disappeared.’

‘But there’s also another possibility, isn’t there, Dominique? That maybe the entity self-destructed?’

‘Yes, that’s possible.’

‘Let’s talk about your sons. Peter Mabus makes them out to be demons.’

‘Peter Mabus is a selfish, self-righteous asshole who preys upon the public’s ignorance. My sons are wonderful children, gifted, yes, but innocent children.’

‘Can we see them?’

‘Of course.’

‘Stay tuned,
20/20
will be right back with the first exclusive footage of the Gabriel twins.’

‘And … cut!’

Barbara pats Dominique on the knee. ‘You’re doing great. We’re already set up in the gym. Do you need a break?’

‘No, I’m okay.’ Dominique accepts a bottled water from a technician, then leads Barbara out of the house. A brisk ocean breeze messes up her hair as she crosses the compound to the athletic facility.