The Mayan Resurrection Page 2

  The three-thousand-seat arena is standing room only, as it has been every evening over the last four weeks. The television cameras and Internet videocams are manned and ready, the studio audience prepped.

  Houselights dim, igniting a fresh buzz of energy.

  The candy-apple-red curtains flutter, then part, revealing center stage and a charred, seven-foot-high cross.

  Mirroring the symbol, his arms outstretched, is the televangelist.

  Peter Mabus is a heavyset Caucasian in his early fifties. His Alabama accent is thick, his thinning black hair slicked back and combed over. His pasty pale complexion matches his suit and tie and shoes.

  The flock grows silent as he raises his head to speak.

  ‘I’m going to tell you a story, ladies and gentlemen, a story about a man whose existence was riddled with disease, a disease that affects the mind and the body and the spirit. A disease that contaminates the soul. A disease that nearly destroyed society. Yes, my friends, I’m talk’n ’bout that disease known as Greed. This man had all the symptoms. Selfishness. Dishonesty. Malice. Jealousy. Envy. He was a liar and a cheat, and he was corrupt as corrupt can be. He was CEO of one of the largest defense contractors in the world, and he was heavily invested in oil. He was a man who treated women as objects, and bathed in the nectar of their sex until their flower withered and died. And then one day, ladies and gentlemen, as this despicable wretch of a human being lay in his mahogany four-poster bed in his fourteen-thousand-square-foot mansion, an Angel appeared before him. And the Angel brought with it a vision. And the man saw this vision, and in it was the Rapture. And he saw devastation and pestilence and death. And he saw the end of humanity, charred and ruined, buried beneath smoldering rubble. And then he saw the Lord.’

  Peter Mabus looks up as an overhead light casts its heavenly beam upon his face.

  ‘And the Lord said to the man, “My son, see what your sinful ways have brought? My children have forsaken me, allowing the serpent to take root in their garden.” And the man became frightened, and he dropped to his knees and repented. And the Lord said, “Because you have asked my forgiveness, I will spare humanity, but only if you rise to lead the flock.” And the man bowed his head, and the Lord touched his heart.

  ‘Gone were the greed and hatred that had corrupted the man for so long. Gone were the lies and the deceit. And the man rose from his knees and was embraced by the light, and the covenant was made.’

  Mabus steps away from the crucifix.

  ‘I was that man, ladies and gentlemen, and that vision came to me four months ago, ninety days before the winter solstice of 2012. From that day forward, I have served the Lord as his humble servant, carrying His word to the flock. And when the Rapture arrived, and the bombs fell, the Lord kept His word to me, and spared our people.’

  A chorus of Amens.

  ‘And when the serpent showed his face, that wily Devil, the Lord smote him with His light and saved us again.’

  ‘Amen, amen.’

  ‘Divine intervention, children, it was divine intervention. And now, as I stand before you, a changed man, a servant of the Lord, I ask for your support. It was our leadership in Washington that brought the Rapture, it was the policies of Clinton and Bush and Maller and Chaney that nearly destroyed us. God has given me a vision, my friends, and the vision is to carry his word to Washington, then to the rest of the world. America’s strength as a Christian nation has been compromised, along with our values as human beings. The Lord Jesus Christ has blessed us with a second chance, one we cannot forsake. Support us now. Rise with me, rise up—’

  Small sections of preseated worshipers rise, encouraging others to do the same.

  ‘—take your neighbor’s hand, children. Go on. Hold your hands high to the heavens and praise God. Will you praise Him with me?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Will you rise above your sins with me?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Will you support my campaign to restore goodness to our nation, so that we may never face our annihilation again?’

  ‘Yes … praise God.’

  ‘Because there’s so much work to be done, so much good to be spread around the globe, so that we may finally conquer the diseases that still plague mankind.’

  A small army of men in white suits appear in the aisles, their empty buckets aimed at the chanting crowd.

  Mabus looks directly into the camera lens. ‘It’s time to go forth and spread the word, ladies and gentlemen. Call tonight and pledge your tax-deductible donation. Call tonight and join God’s party, so that together we can create a groundswell of love that will sweep us into the White House. This is the vision our Lord and Savior gave unto me, it is the covenant He made when He spared us from death. Remember back to that day, then reach deep into your wallets and show the Man upstairs that you deserve this second chance. Stand tall with me, my children, support the Lord so that we can walk together, hand in hand in the spirit of Jesus Christ, our Savior, into the Ever-After.

  ‘Amen.’

  The makeup artist touches up the last bit of shine beneath Richard K. Phillips’s eyes as the host of the political forum takes his place opposite Peter Mabus.

  The television producer pauses as instructions are relayed from his producer over his earpiece. ‘All right, gentlemen, we’re rolling in three … two …’

  Richard Phillips looks into camera one. ‘Good evening. Tonight, World News speaks with Peter J. Mabus, former CEO of Mabus Enterprises, and presidential candidate for the 2016 election.’

  ‘Good evening, Richard, and good evening to all our supporters. God loves you.’

  ‘Mr. Mabus, let’s get right to it. The next presidential election isn’t for another three years, why begin campaigning so early?’

  ‘Richard, the message I carry knows no political timetable. Now is the time for sweeping changes, and even though we’re not in office yet, we believe the current administration needs to feel the will of the American people. Ennis Chaney has failed to restore faith in the United States government, and without faith, this administration will collapse, America with it. We simply cannot wait four years to make a difference.’

  ‘To be fair, President Chaney’s only held office for little over a month.’

  ‘You either have the faith of the people or you don’t. Chaney doesn’t.’

  ‘Mr. Mabus, you’ve openly blamed society’s near demise on the previous administration’s policies that led to global isolation. And yet, your own company profited heavily from the new regimes that rose to power in the Middle East, as well as Asia.’

  ‘And Richard, who better to institute change than one who knows what it’s like to walk down society’s dark path? Having been there, I know what it will take to root out the evil that shadows our society. More than anything, I believe this is why God chose me to lead postapocalyptic America.’

  ‘Interesting. However, isn’t it also possible, as your critics are quick to point out, that your sudden foray into politics has more to do with simply reading the writing on the wall. Chaney’s already talking about canceling the Space Defense Initiative that’s been blamed for fueling nuclear buildups in Russia and China, and your company was its main supplier.’

  ‘You mean my former company. I resigned weeks ago.’

  ‘Still, you walked away with almost $200 million dollars.’

  ‘Those were stock options I had coming to me. George Bush’s vice president received $20 million from Haliburton when he left, and they lost money under his leadership. The money I received was earned. God has no problem with that, especially when I’m investing it into a campaign that is doing so much good.’

  ‘Let’s talk about your new political party, People-First.’

  ‘I think our name pretty much says it all.’

  ‘Some have labeled it extremism.’

  ‘Extremism? Richard, if the majority of Americans share our beliefs, then how is that extremism? We believe in the strength of the family unit. We feel the go
od ol’ Christian values that made this country great have been replaced by promiscuousness and a generation of children who fail to give back to society.’

  ‘When you say Christian values, you are aware how those words frighten most non-Christian Americans?’

  ‘It’s just an expression, Richard. I love all Americans, be they Jew or Hindu, or whatever, as long as they respect the values of a Christian society, which is what we preach.’

  ‘You realize what you’re saying flies in the face of the Constitution.’

  ‘I believe in the Constitution, but let’s face facts. It’s been less than forty-five days since our political leaders nearly wiped out our entire species. If that’s what the Constitution protected, then it needs some serious amending. Our Lord and Savior didn’t save our butts just to watch us commit the same sins all over again. We need to learn from the events of 2012 and move on.’

  ‘Again, you credit Jesus with saving humanity, giving no credence to the administration’s reports about Michael Gabriel.’

  ‘That crock about a race of superior humans building the pyramids? Please.’ Mabus leans forward, his eyebrows knitting. ‘Let me tell you something about this Michael Gabriel. I’ve spoken with many clergymen who are absolutely convinced he was the Antichrist.’

  ‘Mr. Mabus, by every account, Michael Gabriel died a hero.’

  ‘According to who? The government responsible for nearly getting us nuked? It’s well documented that Gabriel’s father, Julius, was a wacko, and so was Gabriel. He spent eleven years in a mental asylum for assaulting former Secretary of State Pierre Borgia. Does that sound like a hero to you? For all we know, Michael Gabriel may have been the one responsible for causing that alien to awaken in the first place. He did claim he had entered its vessel in the Gulf, right? He even said he was in communication with that demon.’

  ‘True, but—’

  ‘But nothing. We’ve all seen the footage. Gabriel entered the serpent’s mouth, and the two of them disappeared. Poof!’

  ‘What are you implying?’

  ‘Ain’t implying anything, I’m tellin’ you straight out that our Lord and Savior intervened at our darkest hour, sending Gabriel and his serpent back to Hell whence they came. Divine intervention, Richard, not some Mayan malarkey. Now humanity’s at a crossroads. We either learn from this brush with extinction and elect leaders who will help us become the God-fearing people Jesus always wanted us to be, or we stick our heads back in the guillotine and wait for the next Judgment Day.’

  Peter Mabus signs three more autographs, then boards his private jet.

  Campaign organizers line up to greet him in the aisle.

  ‘Beautiful job, Peter. The latest polls show us approaching 22 percent.’

  ‘The Dallas speech netted just under two million. Well done.’

  ‘Salt Lake City booked us for three more trips. The Mormons love you.’

  Mabus acknowledges each assistant as he makes his way to his private office located in the rear of the 707 airbus.

  An older, white-haired gentleman is waiting for him inside.

  Mabus’s campaign manager, Texas billionaire Joseph H. Randolph, Sr., looks up from watching the CNN broadcast. ‘You did well on the family values crap, but you lost points when you labeled Gabriel the Antichrist. This campaign’s success may be fueled by a faith-based initiative, but the public still views Gabriel as a hero. In the end, his close ties to Chaney may be our undoing.’

  ‘Michael Gabriel will be old news by the 2015 New Hampshire primary.’

  ‘Maybe, but his child won’t be.’

  ‘His child?’

  Randolph nods. Hands him the report.

  Mabus scans the document, his blood pressure rising. ‘The Vazquez woman’s pregnant?’

  ‘Yes, and when the public finds out, and they will, they’ll flock to her like she’s the second coming of the Virgin Mary, her newborn worshiped like the baby Jesus. Chaney won’t even have to campaign, he’ll waltz into the White House for a second term, and we’ll never get his kind out of power.’

  ‘Christ!’ Mabus punches the closest wall, then rubs his knuckles as he collapses into an easy chair. ‘So? What do we do?’

  ‘Only one thing to do, we get rid of this Vazquez woman before the public finds out she’s pregnant. I’ve already got my sources working on finding her. Fortunately, Homeland Security’s overseeing her case, so it should be relatively easy to get to her.’

  ‘Do it. Spare no expense. I want that bitch and her demon seed dead by the weekend.’

  2

  JANUARY 25, 2013: ST. AUGUSTINE, FLORIDA

  ‘Attention. Lead vehicle now approaching final destination. Have a nice day.’

  The sound of the Jeep’s autopilot awakens Dominique. She stretches, inclines her seat, then glances at the digital clock. Seven-thirty. I’ve been asleep for two hours.

  Evelyn Strongin’s black Toyota is three car lengths ahead, both vehicles exiting Smart Highway 95, following the ramp into St. Augustine, America’s oldest city.

  It was in 1513 that famed explorer and treasure hunter Don Juan Ponce de León first arrived in Florida, claiming the ‘Land of Flowers’ for Spain. Fifty-two years later, King Philip II appointed Admiral Don Pedro Menendez de Aviles as governor of Florida to protect the colony from the French. Menendez arrived on August 28, 1565, the Feast Day of St. Augustine and quickly fortified the coastal town, naming it after the holiday.

  St. Augustine’s history would be a bloody one. In 1586, Sir Francis Drake attacked and burned much of the city; in 1668, the pirate John Davis pillaged the town, murdering sixty people. With the British establishing colonies in the Carolinas and Georgia, Spain authorized the construction of the Castillo de San Marcos, a stone fort that surrounded the city, preventing it from being seized.

  In 1763, Florida was ceded to England in exchange for Cuba, then returned to Spain twenty-three years later. The American Revolution forced Spain to relinquish Florida to the United States, and it eventually became the twenty-seventh state to be admitted to the union. America’s oldest city would fall prey to a yellow fever epidemic, then see its borders occupied by the Union Army during the Civil War.

  St. Augustine’s bad run of luck would change in 1885, with the arrival of Henry Flagler.

  The cofounder of Standard Oil saw the city’s potential as a winter resort, and was soon investing heavily in lavish hotels and a railway linking New York to St. Augustine. A new city hall, hospital, and several churches would follow, making the city founded fifty-five years before the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock the jewel of the South.

  More than a century later, St. Augustine remains a popular tourist attraction, maintaining much of its old Spanish ambiance. The stone fort still remains, as do many of the city’s original cobblestone streets and dwellings. One home dates back some four hundred years, and locals claim the older sections of the city are haunted by the souls of the dead. ‘Ghost’ walking tours are given nightly in the old quarter, passing through dark streets and cemeteries where the spirits are said to be especially active.

  Dominique disengages the autopilot, directing the Jeep along Orange Street and past the two looming stone pillars that once served as gateposts to the fortified city. The Toyota continues on for several blocks, then pulls into a parking lot across the street from an old brick drugstore.

  Dominique parks next to Evelyn’s car.

  The old woman climbs out, stretching to ease her stiff back. ‘I’m not used to sitting for so long. Come, my dear, we’ll pay our respects, then you’ll join me for dinner.’

  Dominique follows Evelyn across the street and into the centuries-old drugstore.

  ‘This dwelling and its parking lot were built over a sacred Indian burial site. The souls of the desecrated are still quite restless.’ She points at the front window where the headstone of Seminole chief Tolomato sits. A wooden sign stands next to the gravestone.

  Dominique reads the inscription:

  ‘NOTIS
. THIS WERRY ELABORTE PILE IS ERECKTED IN MEMORY OF TOLOMATO, A SEMINOLE INGINE CHEEF WHOOS WIGWARM STUUD ON THIS SPOT AND SIRROUNDINGS. WEE CHERIS HIS MEMERY AS HE WAS A GOOD HARTED CHEEF. HE WOOD KNOT TAKE YOOUR SKALP WITHOUT YOU BEGGED HIM TO DO SO OR PADE HIM SUM MUNNY. HE ALWAYS AKTED MORE LIKE A CHRISTSUN GENTLE MEN THAN A SAVAGE INGINE. LET HIM R.I.P.’

  ‘Lovely.’

  Evelyn stands before the grave marker, her eyes closed, her lips mumbling something incomprehensible. After several moments she opens her eyes, then leaves the dwelling without saying a word.

  Dominique follows her outside. ‘Look, maybe this isn’t such a—’

  ‘One must adhere to proper etiquette, child. Let’s walk, my home’s not far from here.’