PROLOGUE
The old man arrived at the Via Della Conciliazione. His ragged breathing echoed across the Piazza PIU XII, while he held his hand firmly against his shoulder, feeling the thick blood seep between his thin fingers. He fled across the square and hid behind a pillar on the northern side. The cold stone sent shivers down his spine.
Take a deep breath, he told himself.
Unwillingly, he placed his hand on the white marble. Pain stroke his shoulder instantly and he cringed, trying not to make a sound. He leaned against the side of the pillar, slowly turning his head around it to seek for signs of his attacker.
The eighty-five-year-old archeologist looked carefully; in the moonlight the blood dripping from his shoulder, making its way down his arm to the floor, looked oil black. Through his thick glasses the man spotted a young man, in a tailored Italian suit, walking toward him. His heart raced. The hat the man wore shaded his face, but he could still see the evil glance burning in his eyes. The same glance he had seen only minutes ago.
The man in the grey suit had both hands in his pockets as he was moving closer.
Did he spot me? The archeologist wondered, moving his head away from the man. His heart raced even faster now.
He noticed the odd shape of his palm, hovering, there on the cold marble and he understood why the man was in no hurry, continuous blood drops leaded to the way he just walked. In his left hand he held a bloodstained silk cloth, where he had wrapped the greatest discovery of his life, good men died for it. The Object was quite small even though it was built in a very rare metal.
The moonlight bathed his face like summer rain and he realized he made a mistake, he should have went the other way. The river of countless pillars arched and mirrored on the other side of the square and looked to have no ending in sight.
He tried to sneak out, slowly, trying to stay hidden for as long as he could, he thought of the countless saint's statues above his head, looking down, at him and he hoped they would help, somehow, deliver the sacred object.
When the colonnade ended, the world's biggest church stood tall, as a mountain before him, drowned in golden light coming from the plaza and the building walls. Michelangelo's dome took a greenish hue from the oxidized copper, the Ferrara'swhite marble statues of the apostles and in the middle the statue of Christ with a big cross on his hand blessed the square before him and showed the way.
Alexander Jordan exited the double colonnade and turned right toward the St. Peter's Basilica, far away two guards noticed him right away as he ran toward the building four hundred and forty eight feet tall. One of the guards stepped forward and ordered him to stop, but the archeologist speeded up and shouted. "Help! . . . Somebody's . . ." he could barely breathe, "trying to, Kill me!"
The guard pointed his gun at him and ordered the man to stop, but he ran urging for assistance only thirty feet away, he could barely hear. The guard stood still aiming at his chest when the second guard rushed in asking the first guard to put down the gun, seemed he recognized the old man. They exchanged a few words in french and then he turned to the archeologist, "I apologize for the misunderstanding, but my colleague doesn't know you." said the guard with a strong french accent, "You must understand, it is late. . . and this entrance is only open during the day" when he was close enough to shake hands his face froze.
Didn't get the chance to pull his gun when a second bullet hit his chest and fell backwards, the other guard managed to pull his gun behind Alexander Jordan and fire two shots but he missed, before he could fire a third one a bullet hit him in the head. Alexander could only hear the tingling of the shells hitting the ground behind him as the swift young man had gotten out of the colonnade following his footsteps.
The archeologist picked up a gun and ran like crazy, praying one of the entrances was open.
At least one!
The attacker was above the guards in a blink of an eye, kicked the weapon away from the guard as he was trying to get it, shot him once on the head with the silenced weapon than aimed at the old man running to the basilica. A suffocated noise came from the gun and the man fell on the doorway hitting the big entrance doors. The big wooden doors made a loud noise and then a line of light separated the darkness and then, slowly, it became larger.
The old man tried to stand as he entered Holy Ground, Enemy territory, the most divine picture he had ever seen laid in front of him, nearly blinding, it could have very well been for all the blood he had lost and his vision was getting blurry; silvery moonlight shining rays from the windows surrounding Michelangelo's dome almost like a guiding light to the aisle. A sea of wooden stools stood across the basilica, placed too carefully to guest a record number of five-hundred-thousand people. The arched ceiling were decorated with harmonic golden shapes and white marble statues on top of tall blessed columns from old master builders.
I'm not going to make it. It was like a column fell on his shoulders.
The archeologist had passed two thirds of the way when the bullet went through his leg and hid inside a wooden stool a few feet away, he tried to stand but his hand could only gasp thin air and he fell on his face. The Priceless artifact slipped from his hand and tingled rolling away, as did the gun. He had lost too much blood. Leaned on his aching arm and crawled to the gun, grabbed the cold weapon but instead of turning to shoot at his attacker he continued to crawl toward the artifact almost at his arms reach. squeezed the artifact in his hand and drifted into some kind of trans and twitched in terror and pain.
Like turned to stone the archeologists gaze was lost into hollow, than, an instant later it was all clear, the importance of the days to come brought him back into the land of the living and he kept on crawling toward the center of the basilica.
The atackers footsteps were closing in by the second.
When the attackers shadow fell over the old man he took aim and shot through his shoulder and into the floor. Than the young man bent over him like a predator on his prey, watched him for a while than unfold the bloodstained silk cloth, picked up the priceless artifact. Folded it carefully and placed it safely in the inside pocket of his jacket and then shot the old man another time on his back, by the time the shell hit the floor next to them the attacker was already on his way.
Into the last drops of life he felt like somebody gave him new strength, he looked up, in front of him was the bronze Bernini aisle of Saint Peter, he reached for the plated leather hardcover bible before he crushed on the cold floor. He turned slowly on his back looking a t the dome above him, the six foot tall letters dedicated to Saint Peter enwrapped the edge, he couldn't really read them but he remembered doing it a year ago.
TV ES PETRVS ET SVPER HANC PETRAM AEDIFICABO ECCLESIAM MEAM. TIBI DABO CLAVES REGNI CAELORVM
You are Peter and on this rock you will build my Church. I will give you the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven. - Mathew 16:18-19
The old man turned the bible to the back and slowly, with his trembling fingers opened the heavy back-cover staining it. He tried to open the pages carefully but his fingers were going numb, it was then, he saw it, what he was looking for, he made up a square around the verse he was looking for, sealing it with his blood.
His strength abandoned him smiling, knowing that his message would be clear, than he drifted into nothing.
Et ecce equus pallidus et qui sedebat desuper nomen illi Mors et inferus sequebatur eum.
And I saw a pale horse who's name was Death and the World of the Dead followed him. - Revealence 6:18
CHAPTER 1
The salty pacific air filled the night sky, from the white sands of the beach to the Santa Monica mountains. Endlessly colliding and quietly corroding the nine lettered monument forty-six foot tall and three-hundred and sixty feet wide of the name HOLLYWOOD that watched over the most famous residential area in the world.
Stormy clouds were rushing in and the temperature fell rapidly. It was past midnight and the city was still buzzing of life, cars invaded most streets and people walked on sidewalks heading home. Students looking for a bar or a party to sneak-in to have fun till morning, loud music, drugs and alcohol. Somewhere in the distance police sirens tore the silence, tire brake sounds and gun shots screamed for attention as they moved to the outskirts of the city. The V.I.P.-s gathered on exclusive places on their limos, Hummers, or electric cars as it was the current fashion, followed by high-tech camera flashes and paparazzi. Inside their homes families were enjoying a good night sleep after long hours at work and lovers have taken some time for their own.
Rain started washing down the smog that covered entire areas, clearing the air slowly. Thick clouds cut off the tops of the skyscrapers on the almost deserted financial center.
Up above, an ominous light shone over the clouds, burning hard and bright. As it entered the atmosphere it took a strange red color and expanded as it fell closer to the ground, dividing into smaller parts.
Rain poured when the dark stormy clouds started taking a reddish hue until it looked like an impressionist painting. All the lights went down starting at the beach and widening as far as the eye could see.
A burning rock fell violently in the ocean making a huge hole and rippling tall waves foaming and spreading rapidly in circle. It only took a couple of seconds till it hit the pier shaking all the boats and yachts crumbling them on the one dry land and pushing them forward to the city.
The Long Beach harbor suffered first the devastation of the meteor shower. The workers with rain coats of the night shift stoned at the picture in front of their eyes. A meteor hit right at the docks crushing the tall crane on top of their heads, rolling containers like dominos. The rain of space rocks washed shore and moved inland burning everything on its way down to ash. Flames rose high and thick smoke covered half the city like an extremely expensive visual effect out of a Hollywood movie scene.
The decimated part of the thirteen million people that lived in Los Angeles awakened in the confusing and horrifying sight of Hell on Earth. Space rain left enumerating vertical smoke lines and moved further inland crushing homes and skyscrapers shaking their very fundaments and pushed them over like Lego toys. The ground shook harder as the meteors evaporated every soul they found on their way. It quickly reached the Saint Helena Mountains, hitting behind the big HOLLYWOOD letters pushing them down-hill and into the burning trees and smoke. Los Angeles bay has turned to a burning coal of sixty miles, turning slowly to dust.
A celestial stone, apparently similar to the rest, cut through the air without facing almost no resistance and without losing any speed, it went down in the middle of the burning city pushing aside the smoke. The powerful explosion caused an immense wave that expanded in the shape of a deformed orb pushing down the crumbling ground and carrying away the flames for miles and miles, shaking the land itself. The whole bay sank quickly into the abyss. Entire mountains leaned into the crater and over the ocean, crumbling into smaller cliffs.
When the wave extinguished far from sight, Los Angeles was nothing more than a huge crater a few miles deep and tens of miles wide. Could almost not see the other edge. It wasn't long till dust covered the big hole.
A single spike of smoke moved toward the edge, over the rocks, far from the water. An extremely tall man stopped on top of the rubbles. Dressed all in black. The man turned his gaze at the cataclysmic scene behind, bended his head a little to his right, enjoying the view. He could see clearly the ocean's water rushing in from the irregular edges of the crater filling the hollow in it. The mountain cliffs and rocks were still settling down in loud crackling sounds and sinking slowly.
He dusted off his robe, long down to his feet, almost caressing the ground, than turned away and swiftly jumped on the tops of the rolling loud rocks. In the distance the spreading San Andreas Fault separated California from the United States causing massive earthquakes and adding more victims and devastation to the disaster.
The tall man jumped the spreading fault and for an instant stopped to gaze on the wicked stars he had fallen from, what his pitch black hollow eyes could see was far different from what everyone else could. Than he just started walking north-east, slowly. No rush.
CHAPTER 2
Thesecret research facility was buried under one-hundred feet of sand and rocks somewhere in the Nevada desert. Far from the indiscreet eyes of tourists and above all, conspiracy hunters that now grew like weed. The multi-billion dollar lab was completely different from the warehouses that was put on the surface for the digital era to see, the Google Maps satellites. It had five floors of storage, residences, restaurants, bars, digital records that grew faster than the Library of Congress and a few cutting edge high-tech labs that will not be on the market for years.
From the faint light coming from the hall and the heavy smell of chemicals the lab looked like horror movie scene, with all kinds of tools with all kinds of shapes and flashing blades. On the big table in the center was a corpse covered in blue plastic sheets. The two way doors like in the hospitals opened on the inside and the neon lights hanging from the ceiling started flashing as the turned on illuminating the immense room. The lab was equipped with measuring, operation tools and very expensive electronic devices as well as books and science magazines, medicine and gossip too. The quiet steps of the gifted scientist halted in front of a few synchronized big retina screens asking for the username and password in big bright letters. She tapped quickly a few keys on the keypad and the screens filled with numbers and pictures and many live feed from different angles of the lab.
She picked-up the wireless headphones and pulled the mike closer to her lips: "Dissection on subject. . .hmm. . ." she turned to the corpse on the table and looked over the plastic sheet, closed her deep blue eyes a bit trying to spot the numbers on the tag on the victims feet on the other side. Sighed and walked over the corpse feet pulled up the tag, as always it was a non-sequential numbers and letters code: "z00i8b," she pulled off the plastic sheet, "male, Caucasian, above forty, athletic body, five foot three and. . ." there were scars all over the man's body and fresh wounds on his head and abdomen. "A big wound on the frontal lobe and a two inch hole on his stomach, side to side."
She placed the headset at the side of the autopsy table where she kept the surgeon tools and put on a pair of latex gloves. She wore a pair of bunny eared slippers and a white doctor-scientist shirt, that was actually a common man's shirt that only covered a little essential of her. Six foot four and long athletic formed body. She picked up the scalpel and fixed the glasses slipping on her nose and pushed a few bangs from her eyes and pulled her long black hair over the shoulders. Moistened her cherry red lips and took a deep breath.
The sight of the cold man's corpse triggered back sad memories from almost a year ago, in a closed van, somewhere, where her father's body laid on an ambulance trolley with multiple gunshot wound. It was the day that the weight of the world finally broke her. When she snapped out of the memory her eyes were looking at the monitor on the side of the room and especially at the camera behind her, the shirt had raised showing her long legs and the black Victoria's Secret lingerie. She smirked and placed the left hand on the victims shoulder.
Melissa Jordan was a top student in Harvard University, doctorate in genetics at twenty, passionate in human anatomy and was a prodigy in astronomy, ancient cultures and mythology, she had read every book on her father's library at the age of ten and devoured every magazine and documentary she could get her hands or eyes on. She had a bright future ahead of her, finding a cure to cancer or H.I.V. or making a huge discovery of some ancient archeological site, but, somebody in a black suit showed at her door with an envelope and before she knew she turned in a lab-rat, confined into this pit, spied on 24/7 like Big Brother, even now, probably some fat guy was drooling over the monitor staring at her backside. She didn't mind, as long as nobody touched, she wasn't shy.
She pressed harder with her fingers and pulled the scalpel slowly to herself, stopped at the middle of the chest and made a mirrored cut from the left shoulder and then finished the Y shape no time. She dropped the scalpel on the side and took the small circular saw and followed the Y shape lines cutting the ribs one at a time and placed the saw where she took it. She put her fingers in the small opening and applied some pressure.
The beeping sound of the internal phone line tore the silence. She bounced from the sudden noise and then smiled realizing it was nothing and then Melissa applied a little more strength trying to open the chest before answering the phone but it was no use.
She walked away removing the gloves, headed to the phone and picked it up, "Yes." she answered with half tone a second after looking at her sports watch signing a little past twenty-three.
"Doctor Jordan," spoke in a rush the woman on the other side, "I called to let you know that Director Kruger is. . ."
Everything instantly went dark and the phone died. Something must have happened to the electric lines, it's not the first time, she thought to herself expecting the back-up power to run any moment now, breathing rapidly. The computer batteries screeching sound echoed through the dark room. She searched with her hand the phone and put it in place and stood still for a moment waiting for her eyes to adapt to the darkness but it was no use, she was underground. An unpleasant feeling started to grow inside her gut. A few seconds passed but nothing happened, so she decided to look for the flashlights she kept at the operation table.
Stretched up-front her arms and walked slowly to where she remembered the table to be, trying not to stumble over anything that might be on the floor. Took a couple deep breaths and moved further, her fingers touched the cold metal and she knew it was the big table, now she needed to find out if it was the front or the back and move around. Melissa moved her left hand further the edge and found the corner. That was quick, she moved carefully on her left till she reached the other corner and then turned to walk a little more. She raised her hands a little and rumbled on the stuff on the table trying to find the flashlight. She touched something that looked like a heavy plastic cylinder and picked it up, searched for the switch on both sides. Yes, she flipped it and the circle of light shone at the table, illuminating the side of the corpse, turned it around and headed for the door.
Only a few steps and she pushed the door, but it didn't move an inch. Damn Electric Pass, she cursed picking it from her pocket and sliding it in front of the dead sensor and pushed the door again kicking it and banging repeatedly at the small window: "Can anybody hear me?" she shouted anxiously. No response.
The floor shook hard crushing everything on the white tiles and rolling around. She flattened onto the door trembling in fear as the surgical blades fell on the floor, feeling glad she moved from there.
Calm down! Breathe! commanded herself breathing hard and fast.
The ground was still shaking.
It's just an earthquake! tried to control her breathing, nothing more. The ground will settle soon.
It have been a few seconds that lasted a lifetime when the quaking stopped and the door she was leaning opened causing her to fall on her back. One of the lights hanging on the ceiling fell only an inch from her head. The hallway lightened as the flashlight rolled a few feet away from her hand. She felt the dust and debris that was still falling from the cracked ceiling and over her head. She stood up and walked to the torch, took it in her hands and moved forward, leaving the lab behind.
Her small apartment was not far from there.
There was another quake, an aftershock, she leaned on the wall as the ground stopped moving and started walking again. She could still heard the sound of breaking objects in the distance.
CHAPTER 3
Something is Wrong!
Jonathan White woke up in the middle of the night with a strange new feeling, unfamiliar and extremely unpleasant. With the same irritating thought banging on his head.
Something is seriously wrong.
A few seconds ago everything got quiet, like flipping a switch. He stood on his bed for some time, he heard a thundering and lasting sound in the far distance and sometime later the ground shook a bit. Turned his gaze on the glass of water next to his bed but the water didn't ripple, apparently only those like him could feel it and the seismograph's, of course.
Earthquake? He wondered.
Got up walking barefoot on the carpet and looked on the big window. The stars were soon to disappear one after the other. It would be dawn in a little less than two hours.
Shut his eyes and focused breathing slowly. Nothing happened. Tried it a few more times with the same result. It was the first time this occurred to him.
His heart raced for the first time.
His phone started to vibrate on the small glass table. Picked it up and read the number on the screen. He knew that number.
"Marcus." answered it curiously, "What is happening?" he walked to the window again. Marcus was a living search engine, he knew almost anything you needed to know, everything there was to know. And when he didn't he had thousands of old books to find the answer on. He knew it all, well almost all.
"I'm afraid I don't know this one, mate." the other responded with a slight British accent. There was interference on the line.
"Have you talked to the others? I mean. . . Talk!" Jonathan asked. The man on the other end hesitated for a bit. "I . . . couldn't."
"No, I haven't, yet. It can be anything, probably is nothing. I just called to check on you." the other seemed worried too. "I talked to Gabby and she had no idea."
Jonathan eager for answers, and he got some. Focused on his reflection on the glass. He had southern Europe looks, ran his fingers through the dark maroon short disheveled hair. "Something has happened," stared at his olive green eyes looking for an answer. "that has changed things, at first, I thought it was only me."
He was tall and fit. Wore a T-Shirt and sports thin white pants that kept stepping on while walking.
"I will check the old texts. Hmm. . . I couldn't connect to Chris or Liz. No one on the west coast actually." the man seemed worried.
Jonathan was too.
"Trying to call again now. Talk to you later." and hung up.
Jonathan threw the phone on the bed. Looked suspicious at Manhattan. Closed his fist on the window glass.
For the first time ever, he felt . . . lonely.
CHAPTER 4
It was still dark.
Melissa Jordan turned the key and pushed open the door of her small apartment. She was still shaken. Moved the flashlight around to check on her belongings, what had fallen or broken or remained in it's place.
Not much, she made inventory.
Closed slowly the door behind her making as little sound as she could. Walked carefully over the debris and the broken pieces of the three big orchid pots spilled on the floor.
What a shame, she couldn't help but feel sad. It took her three years to grow them.
She walked past the dining table that now was in the middle of the room, the chairs had rolled, falling over. She picked up a chair and put it in place so she could clear a path on her left, walked between the insula and the kitchen. Closed the refrigerator door and stepped over the grocery on the floor. Turned the bedroom doorknob but it didn't open. Melissa placed her shoulder on the door and leaned her weight into it and pushed, it didn't move so she pressed harder this time and it opened.
The bedroom was very large, they didn't care for expenses, apparently, there was a big modern double bed with silk sheets. Melissa walked to the modern wooden dresser and picked the broken photo frame from the floor, it was the only picture of the time she was truly happy. She shook the glass off and took the old picture. Picked up the picture frame lying on the dresser as well, all the colleagues at the labs on her birthday party.
The window is open, she thought, strangely, at a time like this she remembered line from a TV show. This is it.
She fixed the flashlight on the bed and walked to the closet, ironically the only door that was closed was the one she needed to open. Pulled the door and reached for the top shelf and pulled down the backpack to the floor and placed the pictures in the pocket. Shoved some random clothes in it, then stood up and took off her men shirt, put on a pair of blue jeans and a grey blouse with a hood. Threw in another flashlight and a few batteries than picked it up and took the flashlight from the bed and went back on the living area.
Threw the backpack in the couch and took her sneakers and put them on.
There were footsteps on the hallway moving closer. Melissa covered the flashlight with her hand and listened carefully. After the security agents passed over the door she took her stuff and turned the doorknob and opened it just a little. She peeked for some light or sound from the hallway and after she made sure that nobody was there she closed the door behind her and walked to her right.