“It’s all still there,” his father’s voice now. “If only in a different form. The scrolls wouldn’t have lasted forever anyway.”
Alexander knew he was right, but still—the original copies. So priceless. To have averted the doom Sostratus originally foresaw for them, only to be destroyed only a few years after rediscovery…
“I’ve got to go now, they’re coming soon. Remember…”
“Yes, I know. I’m a Keeper now. I’ll do what has to be done.” A little hesitation. “I’ll see you soon?”
“That’s a promise. I’m proud of you, Alexander. Goodbye.”
Alexander stood and raised his head, shining the light into the crevices and nooks, surveying what was left of his domain, the vault that had been built to survive for millennia. He allowed himself a moment to grieve for all this, for Rashi and Hideki. And for his mother.
And then he sat down and got to work.
3.
Xavier Montross waited alone in the limousine and didn’t bother trying the doors. He knew they’d be locked. In the back trunk rested an iron box more than five thousand years old that potentially held the greatest of secrets. And somewhere down there in that monstrous fissure, were the only keys that could open the box.
The keys and my nephew, he thought, imagining the boy’s terror, his sudden thrust into responsibility. We’re not so different. I was even a little younger when it happened to me.
Out the tinted windows he could see the crowd of fire engines, ambulances, vans and relief workers. Three helicopters overhead. People surging around the perimeter, spectators pushed back by armed police, keeping everyone at a distance from ground zero.
Xavier closed his eyes and for a moment, pictured his childhood room as it was for years, up until the accident that killed his mother and his foster father: the bedroom walls covered with drawings, visions that made the transition from mind to paper. He recalled one in particular: a deep hole bored into the earth, with tiny forms clinging to the sides, smoke rising from below.
He had seen this all before. Didn’t know what it was at the time, but now there was no mistaking it.
Just like there was no mistaking what he’d have to do next. He knew it was coming. Dreaded it, but at the same time found himself intensely curious. But first he allowed himself a moment.
A moment to think. About her.
A soaring flight over sandstone towers, deep ravines and striated cliff walls. Her breath on his neck, her arms fiercely encircling his chest. The intensity of adventure, the thrill of discovery…
And then he was back, and her scent left his lungs with the next breath, replaced by the stinging heat and flavor of death.
Mason Calderon slid into the seat facing Xavier, then shut the door. He had on a lavender silk shirt, sleeves rolled up, his white tie slightly loosened around his collar. A slight cough was his only indication of experiencing anything personally from the destruction outside. He brushed off his pant legs, then combed his fingers through his wavy gray hair.
“So, Xavier. We finally get to chat.” Calderon held a thin leather briefcase on his lap, tapping it gently.
Xavier’s head felt lighter suddenly, and the car seemed to spin. “The Tablet.”
Calderon smiled, his palms now flat against the leather case. “I know you can feel it too.” His eyes were large, Xavier thought, the pupils expanded like a focused cat’s. They blinked, then glanced out the window. His smile never wavered as he shook his head. “Such loss. But still, it was a valuable test. And a warning.”
“A warning to whom?”
Calderon’s gaze swept back to Xavier. “Don’t you know?”
“I know a lot of things. Maybe you should be more specific.” If this was how it was going to be, Xavier was going to have to figure a way to just get in position to kick the senator in the face and shut him up. He knew the next minutes were going to be crucial. Everything he believed in was going to be put to the test. Something was coming, some revelation he hadn’t accounted for. This was the grand meeting between dramatic adversaries, and Xavier, believing himself now thrust completely into the hero’s role, wasn’t going to be fooled.
But then again, maybe he needed a radical change in direction, because so far nothing had been altered. All his visions were still of the same thing: complete final destruction. His death, and everyone’s death at the hands of this man sitting before him so calmly.
Calderon leaned in slightly. “Do you know why the Nazis sent elite missions out to remote corners of the earth? Tibet, the North Pole, Antarctica?”
Xavier stared at him.
“These were hardly positions of strategic importance to the war,” Calderon continued. “And Himmler and other select SS members continued to expend vast resources seeking out areas where there were caves and tunnels penetrating deep into the earth. What were they looking for?”
Xavier shrugged, pretending not to care, although a sinking feeling was forming in his gut. “Treasure?”
“Not exactly. Hitler and the other members of what they called The Thule Society were following up on legends—or possibly if one source is to be believed—remote visions of a certain psychic named Trevor Ravenscroft. The belief in a pre-diluvian civilization, an advanced race, possibly coinciding with Atlantis or else even its predecessor. A race of supermen with advanced intelligence, physical strength and especially, mental powers. Powers and abilities that made them godlike.”
Xavier nodded. “Yeah, so Hitler was insane. Easily manipulated by whackos with god-complexes. Aryan master race. Sure. If they could prove they were descendants of these Thulians or whatever, then they’d what—justify genocide and lordship over the Earth?”
Calderon grinned. “Not only that, although certainly that was a big part of the justification for their quest. No, what Hitler intended was to discover where the remnant of this great super race went during the last cataclysm. Where they hid. And, he believed, where they continue to reside, deep in the earth, watching. Waiting…”
“For what?”
Calderon shrugged. “Hitler thought maybe they were waiting for him. Waiting for a ruler to step up and take the mantle of succession. To build an army capable of overwhelming the lesser races. All at the behest of a ruling class with advanced powers.”
Xavier wriggled against his bonds, wishing he could have hidden a knife in his sleeve to give himself a chance at escape. A chance at ending this here and now. Instead, he had to think of another way. “So, forgive me Senator. What the hell does this have to do with anything? Hitler’s gone, and us ‘lesser races’ smashed his superman dreams and dismantled his aspirations.”
“Gone, yes. But the Custodians are not.”
“The who? Oh, the Thule people. The master race. They’re still there, hiding under rocks?”
“Deep in the earth. Deep underground.” Calderon rubbed his hands together slowly, again looking out the window at the devastation. “And now, Xavier, we finally have a way to get to them.” He patted the briefcase, his eyes glowing with excitement.
And then Xavier got it. He understood his visions. Understood why nothing could stop the coming devastation. And at last, he understood what they were doing up in Alaska.
“Oh dear god,” he whispered. “HAARP. I guessed you used it to cause this localized earthquake. Modulating an ELF vibrational wave, using a billion watts of power, all in the same cadence and frequency into this one spot…”