The Thrones of Eden 3 (Eden) (18 page)

Demir flashed his shoulder lamp and angled his body for the lamp to alight its beam against distant walls. The room was small and devoid of anything. It was like a museum with walls bearing magnificent paintings and nothing more. Only this museum contained archaic script.

“Clear,” he said.

She continued to trace her finger over the lettering, wondering and asking herself what they meant. What was the meaning behind them? More puzzles and more mysteries of the ancient world.

“Ms. Moore.”

Alyssa snapped out of deep thought and refocused.

“We need to move.”

For the moment everything appeared copasetic. Shadows did not prove to be areas of sanctuary for unknown creatures or adversaries. They were still and unmoving with nothing that was blacker than black hiding within. Lights circled the area and tracked along the walls and floor, the team moving forward, their collective breathes no longer holding firm inside their chests as a sense of relief washed over them as they exhaled in liberation. Though it was not the Paradise they suspected, it wasn’t the Hell of satanic brimstone, either. This was an area of neutrality, an area where light and dark fused together into an area of grayness, the area of the Between.

The section then condensed into a corridor, the corridor then leading them to winding paths, the winding paths then leading them to a grand room that was as expansive as a ballroom theater.

In the room’s central point conical beams of light focused to a structure made entirely of crystal, a magnificent display of Eden when it was a marvel of civic living.

Alyssa could feel her heart palpitate in her chest as it became heavy and laden as she set her sight on the silhouette of a man she immediately recognized to be John Savage.

From deep within the shadows she picked her pace up into a lope, then into a jog with Demir’s team following in pursuit, the unit happy to reunite with Savage and his team until Savage turned on them with his assault weapon raised and directed.

Alyssa’s mouth dropped as she waited for the premature punch of the bullet that would end her life.

So she closed her eyes.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

“Stay your weapons!” Demir cried out in Turkish to his people after placing a hand on Alyssa’s shoulder. Then in a show of approval to her, he whispered, “You have chosen well.”

She smiled.

“Mulazim awwal
Abaza Demir
?”
The commando standing next to Savage sounded genuinely stunned, or frightened. Savage didn’t know which. But the man seemed relieved and lowered his weapon. The other commando lowered his MP5K as well, a smile surfacing on his face.

Demir exited from the shadows. His shoulder lamp and the lamps of his teammates no longer appeared like the brightly lit compound eyes of some fantastical creature hidden within the darkness.

Alyssa charged John, nearly knocking him off his feet, embracing him and showering him with kisses, tears coursing along her cheeks, happiness reigning, her world absolutely perfect.

He embraced her, returned her kisses, and tried to pull back. But she wouldn’t allow it, holding him close, holding him tight, and continuing to pepper him with kisses.

“Sweetie,” he said. “Honey . . .  OK-OK.” Then in a hushed tone with his lips inches from her ear, he whispered, “Not in front of the guys, OK?”

But she didn’t care, didn’t listen. She pressed him close like she never wanted to let go. “I thought I lost you,” she told him, pressing an ear to his chest so that she could listen to the drumbeat of his heart that was strong and very much alive.

“I’m fine,” he told her, kissing the crown of her head.

She then reared back and gave him a hard look.

He knew that expression—knew what was coming. “What?”

She punched him in the chest, hard, not exactly a playful tap, but enough of a blow that caused him to bring a hand to the strike point.

“Ow! What the hell!”

“Don’t you ever do that again, John Savage!” Then she fell into him, embraced him and pulled him close, once again listening to the strong beat of his heart.

Demir was also glad to see his troops, but saddened to learn that they were forced to leave one of their own behind. Then it suddenly dawned on him that the blast from the hand grenade was more than just a futile measure of warfare against the scarabs. It was also a warning. They were still coming.

Salutations all around with hands clapping shoulders and valid smiles quickly diminished within a period of less than a minute when the reality of their surroundings set in. Mintaka was still alive and the walls were watching—they could sense it, could feel it, the temple sizing them up for more challenges and more obstacles, their lives truly insignificant in the scheme of all things with each one of them a simple plaything to the powers of the One.

They stood there in awe of the model, seeing it for what it really was, a magnificent sculpture of detail right down to the finest point and measures, a perfect rendition of what Eden used to be.

Alyssa examined it closely, as did Hillary, pointing out certain elements and certain structures, and the significant pattern and alignment of the pyramids from one another.

“There is definitely a third pyramid,” Alyssa said. “It’s northeast of the pyramid of Eden. The pyramid of Alnitak.”  She began to skirt the model. The crystal pyramid of Eden was taller than she was by about a foot, the model standing at six-six. If this was the scaled version, which it appeared to be, then it definitely was much larger than Khufu by perhaps as much as three times larger.

Hillary piped in, seeing and thinking the same as Alyssa. “Eden was massive,” he said distantly, as if captivated. “And its corresponding pyramids, even the smallest pyramid of Alnitak, are just as large as Khufu, maybe larger. Eden truly was the cradle of mankind, a spectacular civilization.”

The remaining two ministers took pictures from every angle and also took measurements to later determine the precise scale size from model to actual.

While they were doing that, Alyssa studied the temple of Alnitak to the northeast. “It would be easy to find,” she said to Savage. “Since we know the location of Eden and Mintaka, we can easily triangulate the position of Alnitak.”

Savage remained quiet. He fell curious as he watched Hillary and Alyssa, wondering how their sense of curiosity outweighed their sense of self-preservation.
Shouldn’t they find a way out of Mintaka?

Alyssa moved closer to the perfectly sculpted formation of Alnitak, the pyramid unblemished as it came up to her shoulders. It was as clear as ice, as clear as a pane of glass. But there was something different about it that set it apart from Eden and Mintaka. Something emanated from it like raw energy that reached out and touched you like a ray of sunshine, something hot against the flesh.

“Hillary,” she called.

He joined her side.

“Do you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“Put your hands out.”

He did, looking as if he was warming his hands against the flames of a fire, waiting, imbibing and taking it in. He could feel something intangible pass over his hands and into his pores, something warm and inviting. “Yes,” he finally said. “It’s . . . peaceful.”

She closed her eyes, but no images came to her. All there was, all that came, was a comfortable settling within.

More came. And more fell into its pull.

As their lights reflected against the walls of the pyramid it began to absorb the energy. The central part of the pyramid glowed with a star-point glimmer of light which grew, the light then bursting into synapses of iridescent colors that became brighter, the pyramid now glowing, the light pleasant to the eyes as the colors increased to a blinding brilliance of luminosity. Then a burst of energy exploded from the point of the pyramid’s cap, creating a holographic image that looked like a corkscrewing ladder that spiraled upward like a ribbon of smoke.

Mouths dropped as everyone watched the figure continue to play out, the image turning, spiraling, and then climbing skyward to the heavens drawn upon the ceiling. 

“Do you recognize it?” asked Hillary, addressing Alyssa in a tone that sounded truly astonished.

“I do,” she said. “It’s the design of the human DNA helix.”

“Close,” he returned. “But not quite.”

“How so?”

“Take a closer look,” he said. “There are odd breaks in the strand. It’s very close to human, but not quite.”

The image continued to flow upward toward the three main stars of the Orion Belt where the strand seemed to disappear into the crystal that represented the largest star of Alnilam.

“What do you think this means?” he asked.

She shrugged. “And why does it only come from Alnitak? What’s inside there? Why is this helix attached to that particular pyramid?”

“It’s definitely a clue of some kind, yes?”

“But to what?”

“Perhaps that is the DNA strand of something inside that pyramid—something close to what we are, a near facsimile.” He examined it more closely, reaching a hand out to touch the image but refraining to rest his fingertips against the design. “It’s not quite human,” he added. “But it’s very . . . very close.”

The DNA strand continued to circle upward when Hillary stepped back. The technology involved in this crystal structure astounded him. There was no doubt in his mind that this display was the result of lost technology that was far superior to current times.

Then the light of the pyramid dimmed, the energy faltering, the image of the DNA helix phasing in and out like the poor reception on a TV screen, until it winked out all together. The light within the pyramid was finally gone, once again becoming a structure of clear crystal.

Darkness began to spill over them like a pall, something threatening, the shadows once again offering camouflage to something of Mintaka’s liking—things that were cruel and deadly.

The light of pleasure was gone; the feeling of security was also gone.

“We need to move,” said Demir. The sudden change and thickness in atmosphere was their cue.

“But how?” asked Hillary. “We both came in the two passageways that lead into this room. There is no other way.”

“There is always a way,” she answered.

But for the longest time nothing happened.

So they waited.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Their numbers had diminished greatly from the fires at base level, the scarabs at first scattering to all passageways and fissures, finding avenues of escape from the oppressive smoke and heat.

And since smoke had to go somewhere, it naturally followed the course of open space. It found the open cracks and spaces as easily as the beetles, the smoke seeping to the upper levels as boiling heads of black clouds in the pursuit to take new ground.

Those beetles too injured to outrun its smoky tendrils died within its grasp, whereas others outpaced the dark cloud and moved to the levels above, always a step ahead. But the smoke was quick and pressed forward with a life of its own, consuming the oxygen that drove it, the flames building and burning in the levels below from the constant feed of oil.

It had no mind, no conscience, and no remorse. And with the ability to morph itself into any design, it maneuvered through spaces too thin for the scarabs, its smoky tendrils reaching for the chambers above. As long as the fires burned, then the smoke would thicken, rise and consume every that was alive in its path.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

“We either sit here for the rest of our lives,” said Alyssa, “or we trigger something. I don’t see it any other way.”

“I’m not sure I agree with your position,” said Hillary. “If we stay here long enough, then help would eventually arrive. This may be a safe haven.”

“Are you kidding me?” she returned. “Do you have any idea how big this place is? It would take weeks, maybe months. And that’s if the responding team doesn’t get wiped out by the defensive engineering of Mintaka.” She sighed, and then more despondently, she said, “Look. I understand the dangers involved here. I really do. But we’re backed into a corner. We know that there’s a way out—a way to the Chamber of the One. We just have to find it.”

“There are no seams along the walls,” said Demir. “We’ve looked.”

“And we can’t get to the ceiling. So that obviously leaves the floor.”

Savage piped in. “I, for one, am tired of the floor shifting.”

Alyssa stood. “But he’s right. It has to be the floor.”

“We couldn’t find seams along the floor, either,” said Demir.

“Who’s to say that the trigger doesn’t lie in there somewhere?” She pointed to the scaled model of Eden.

Everyone looked to what she was pointing at.

“Possible,” said Savage. Then: “Most likely.”

She edged closer to the model. But it was the pyramid of Alnitak that exhibited anything out of the norm, which logically told her that Alnitak was the catalyst. She studied the sculpture. But saw no levers or buttons of triggers of any kind. She then cautiously ran her hands over the walls of the crystal, finding no odd features.

But it was Hillary who offered something different. “It’s the lens,” he said. “It has to be the lens.”

“The lens? What are you talk—” She cut herself short.
Of course.
She then looked at the pyramid’s point of the temple’s cap, the place of worship. When she reached up to grab it she fell short. So Savage joined her side and, careful not to break any pieces beneath his footfalls, reached for the cap of the pyramid. As he did the ripped sleeve of his shirt climbed far enough away from the wound to reveal the slice in his arm.

 “John!” Alyssa sounded alarmed. The cut looked red and angry. “What happened to your arm?”

“I’m fine,” he told her. “It’s just a little reminder from Mintaka telling me that it’s not willing to play nice.” He then grabbed the cap. “Now what?”