“But Xavier saw…”
“I believe he saw what would happen if I didn’t succeed. If he didn’t join me and help me unlock the secrets of the Emerald Tablet. To annihilate the true, secret enemy of mankind.”
“He’s joined you?” Alexander felt the energy leaving his voice. The keys now felt like heavy iron chunks. Calderon stepped to the side and Alexander could see a man with red hair standing by the back of the Hummer, opening the trunk. The two soldiers were with him.
“Come on,” Calderon said as he turned his back to the boys. “Let’s get this damn box open and see what we’ve won.”
“But—”
“Move it,” Isaac said as he jabbed his elbow into Alexander’s side. “And give me those!” He reached out like he was going to strangle Alexander, then snatched at the pendants, caught a hold of the cord and yanked it free.
“Hey!”
Isaac skipped ahead, twirling around, holding the keys high. After a moment’s hesitation, Jacob followed, glancing back once to Alexander. “Come on,” he said in a low voice, and waved his hand.
Sorry, Dad. Hanging his head, Alexander followed, and the only thing keeping him going was the belief that maybe Xavier knew what he was doing. He was always a step ahead of everyone. Maybe this time, he had Calderon right where he wanted him.
But when Alexander made it to the Hummer and saw Xavier shoved aside by the guards, his head down in resignation, all hope fled.
“The Keys,” said Calderon, and took a step back. “You boys do the honors.”
Isaac quickly stepped up. He slid the stones off the cord and held them all in his hand, gazing at them longingly. Alexander wondered if he even appreciated who had held those objects. Cyrus the Great, Genghis Khan, Alexander… The greatest leaders and conquerors in history; and now, this kid was handling them, roughly inserting one into the slot.
“What about me?” Jacob asked, moving in.
“Snooze you lose,” Isaac replied, fitting in the second.
“Hope it zaps you,” Alexander said.
Isaac glanced back before inserting the third. “Right… Hmmm, why don’t you do the last one?” He held out his hand.
Alexander glanced over at Xavier, who had raised his head and was watching Alexander. He gave a nod, indicating he’d be safe, as Alexander thought. There was no danger at this point to anything other than the contents of the box. But his visions had shown that the three keys alone would do it.
The hand bobbled. “Come on, brother. Honor’s all yours.”
“Somebody just do it,” Calderon snapped.
Alexander sighed. “Let Jacob do it. I’m tired.”
Jacob flashed his eyes at him—whether in anger or gratitude Alexander wasn’t sure. But then he snatched up the key from his brother and slipped it into the slot. The twins jumped back with a cry as a flash of light erupted from around the crack in the lid. A hiss of steam shot out in all directions, and then the cover propped up an inch.
Calderon stepped through them, put the cane under his arms, and with the brazen confidence of a man fulfilling his believed-in-destiny, he lifted the lid up and off.
He peered inside and smiled.
Alexander couldn’t see at this angle, and then the twins were climbing up, gathering around and looking inside.
“Just a bunch of clay tablets,” said Jacob.
“Goofy writing,” Isaac added. “Boring!”
“Have some respect, boys.” Calderon lifted one tablet out, holding it up. The script was familiar in places, Alexander saw. With alternating lines of ancient Greek and then the familiar script that was on the Emerald Tablet—which Alexander realized now was slightly reminiscent of the Rongo-Rongo carvings his mother had translated, the ones at that Mohenjo-Daro place, and Easter Island.
“Hey,” Alexander said. “That—”
But then the scene melted away and he was on an island, standing on a flat grassy hilltop under a pure blue sky. Below, miles from the waves that caressed the rocky shore, a hundred workers toiled in a quarry, hacking at the black granite chunks. Molding them into giant Moai that would be aligned into sacred patterns and stand guard, warding off the annihilation that comes for men when they become too advanced.
“We will be safe here?” someone asks. And there is a woman, beautiful and shapely. Tall, with long black hair blowing in the breezes around her face, obscuring her eyes. She holds a smooth piece of driftwood in her hands. On it is written that script in alternating rows, front and back.
Instructions set to animalistic myth. Instructions on how to hide. To live simply and to protect themselves.
And wait.
Wait for salvation.
“Will it be long?” she asks, her voice cracking in the wind.
“Undoubtedly,” the chief replies. “Many, many generations.”
He looks to the sky, to the defiant moon hanging high and triumphant, stubbornly refusing to yield to the rising sun. And he trembles, recalling the legends.
She notices his gaze.
“How can we think to hide?”
“We just do as we were brought up. Just as there is evil, there is good. Darkness and Light. We must hope the light will protect us.” He sighs and reaches for her hand. “But come, enough of this melancholy. We have much living to do before we pass on.”
Alexander blinked and it was gone. Xavier’s bushy red hair was centered in his vision, the wide blue eyes searching his. “You okay? Lost you there for a minute.”
“Yeah, I’m…”
Xavier was shoved aside by the cane, and Calderon stooped down. “Tell me you didn’t go looking anywhere you weren’t invited.”
“What do you mean?” Alexander stammered, still woozy, still smelling the salty ocean breezes and mistaking the sound of hammering and digging of the rescue attempt with the construction of the giant heads on Easter Island. “I don’t have much control over what I see. I just saw that writing and—”
“And did you see anything… blue? A wall of blue, or a congregation of people, like monks in white robes?”
“What?”
Calderon continued staring at Alexander, searching his eyes for a fear that wasn’t there. “Never mind. You’re okay.” He shot a glance at Xavier. “You too, watch yourself. We’re in dangerous territory now. Now that we have this…” He motioned to the box, the tablets.
“What are you afraid of?” Alexander asked, his voice meek.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Does it have to do with the… Custodians?”
Calderon made a sharp breath. He spun and gripped Alexander’s shoulder, tightly. “Where did you hear that name?”
“Stop it, that hurts.”
Xavier’s hand settled on Calderon’s wrist, squeezed and pulled it back—and for a moment both men stared at each other in a contest of wills. Until the barrel of an MP5 was shoved against Xavier’s temple.
“Take it away,” Calderon whispered.
“You first,” Xavier replied, squeezing harder. “You don’t touch him.”
Calderon opened his fingers. And the gun pulled away. “Fine.” He slapped at Xavier’s hand, then turned back to Alexander. “Tell me. What do you know?”
“Oooh,” said Isaac, moving in close to Calderon’s side. “Our brother’s in trouble. Learned secrets he shouldn’t have.”
“Shut up,” Calderon hissed. “This is serious shit. Up until now I’ve had the luxury of operating without their interference, mainly because the Morpheus Initiative have drawn their attention with their plunder of the Tablet.”