Back Cover
An untapped source of untold energy. A few of history's mysteries explained. Islam and Yellowstone; Palestine and Santa Fe.
The interior of the earth is extraordinarily hot. Hot enough to melt things. Certainly hot enough to instantaneously transform water into steam.
But how do you get deep enough into the earth to reach that heat? How do you get vast quantities of water to it – enough to meet the energy demands of civilization, and then some? Then, say you DID figure out how to accomplish these magnificent feats of engineering and environmental manipulation. Wouldn’t the world feel the impact of such tampering?
How would you keep from blowing everything up in the process?
The United States is one step away from inadvertently annihilating the planet with a cataclysmic miscalculation. Can Luke Pierce decipher the cryptic utterances of a living relic of time and wisdom past in time to prevent it, bring peace to the Middle East, and retrieve his beloved Karen Ramirez in the process?
Introduction
"Kill the drill! Repeat, KILL THE DRILL!"
"What's going on over there?"
"Some fracture sensor readings have just been received. They're picking up some activity. Not much, but we need to analyze it."
"The beam's powering down now. Is there any slippage?"
"Not that we can tell. Not yet. The fractures appear to be miniscule. So you got that thing shut down?"
"Hang on...and...now. It's dead. What are the the sensors saying now?"
"Ok, these are probably some continuing vibrations that should stop in a second or two. Let's see. Ok. Well, it's not, it's..."
"It's what? What's going on with the readings?"
"They're increasing. Damn. Both ways: frequency and intensity, both are increasing. It's slight, but both are increasing."
"Do we need to issue, the, uh - what do you think we need to do here?"
"I'd say not yet. We can put them on standby for the tsunami alert, but let's give it a few minutes before we actually issue it."
"That works. I'll get Mike on standby. Or not - hey, are you seeing any issues with the surface link right now? I can't get anything."
"You've GOT to be kidding! Not now! I thought that had been taken care of!?"
"Thought so too. Has the fracturing stopped?"
"It appears to have stopped. Yep. Wait a sec - Nelson, we've got to get that link up NOW. The surface has to be alerted ASAP. SLIPPAGE IS REGISTERING on the monitor. Repeat - WE HAVE SLIPPAGE."
Chapter 1
Words from the sun-baked journal tore at Luke Pierce. Combined with his memory of an other-worldly conversation with an ancient man, they were his last hope of finding Karen and saving mankind from itself:
"Peering through space and time, the Great Sphinx at Giza is a portal.
To what?
The story had been lost - or so it was thought. Knowing the proper perspective, as those who came before us never could, is the final piece of the puzzle that is the Sphinx, and most of humanity's mysteries. It is the very thing that can both destroy and save mankind."
***
The arid breeze blowing across Luke's sunburned skin felt refreshing - almost invigorating. He would miss it, but he knew it would be less than a week until he returned. "Click" - the pump stopped, and Luke jogged into the service station to pay with cash. No more credit cards. Not after what he had learned over the past 6 hours.
In a matter of a few more hours, he would be half way across Colorado. Traveling along the western edge of the great, defining mountain range that served to divide America in two. His northward journey would continue to the place where Keuka’s age-old verbal map told him to branch off toward the crucial destination.
Pierce had written down the old one’s words as best as he could recall them. All that he had to go on was now on a scrap of paper lying on the rear floorboard of the car. Oh, and he was not entirely sure that he had them right. Keuka's cryptic lines were delivered slowly, methodically:
“You will know the place of the failed trial well, though not from its proper perspective.”
The man also had a gift for long-windedness:
“It was there that your people’s arrogance showed that they were not ready to accept this great gift, along with its still greater responsibility. And so it was. Another time, another place perhaps, to demonstrate humility and restraint."
The words were recorded as verbatim as possible. Now, Pierce was faced with this reality: the consequences of not reaching the place in time, or at all for that matter, would be too crushing of a burden for any one person to bear. How should he proceed? Where to even begin?
If only he had Karen back with him – THAT would be his focus. He couldn’t grasp the concept of rescuing humanity from itself. Nor could he come to grips with his roughly 36-hour deadline. His first step was to drive east, then north, to find Karen.
After that, according to Keuka, the whole “saving humanity” thing might fall into place.
Chapter 2
“You will know the place of the failed trial well.”
Huh. Well, Luke didn’t doubt that he would know a place well – Lord knows there were LOTS of those around! Luke Pierce had spent his entire adult life seizing every opportunity that had afforded him the chance to see new and different things. University, books, and the History Channel were his teachers. None of these, however, could do justice to experiencing peoples and places in person. This Santa Fe trip was a perfect example.
The events of less than a full day had now transpired. Yet it seemed as if there had been at least a week crammed into that space. Further “evidence” that Keuka knew his stuff - as if any was required. Pierce was now proceeding on faith alone, faith in the words of the living, ancient relic whom he had only just met.
Faith, by its very definition, could not have provable facts to justify its verity. Mankind must not prove itself unfortunate enough to witness the direct, observable evidence that could soon come into being. If it did, it would cease to exist in an unimaginably violent, instantaneous cataclysm, the likes of which have never been witnessed by man. Unfortunately for the unsuspecting 6 billion human inhabitants of the world who were just going about their business as usual, a few hundred of the most intelligent, creative, spectacularly equipped, and well-intentioned people that the human race has ever produced was quite intent on discovering and revealing the very evidence that Luke sought to keep hidden.
Chapter 3
Yesterday, 11:15am, Santa Fe, New Mexico:
Karen Ramirez was browsing through the mostly silver Native American jewelry. It was produced by descendants of the Navajo who inhabited the surrounding mesas and caves long ago. Those mesa dwellers were themselves direct descendants of an even more chronologically distant culture. “The Ancient Ones”, as they were called by the Hopi, Navajo, and other offshooting cultures.
Archaeologists referred to them as the Anasazi. The center, geographically speaking, of the Anasazi civilization was just west of here in an area called Chaco Canyon. Culturally, the focus was the kiva, a circular depression in the ground used for food preparation, storage, and tribal ceremonies and gatherings. Kivas were found wherever traces of these people were found, throughout the American Southwest, with a large concentration in New Mexico.
This was not Luke’s first visit to the High Desert, traveling with his girlfriend under the guise of visiting romantic Santa Fe. True enough, it was a beautiful destination in itself for couples in love: flat-topped mesas, sunsets ablaze with the brilliant reds and oranges brought out in the slopes and the cliffs, and the shockingly blue, crystal clear sky over the cloudless, unspoiled desert. Not to mention the added benefit of 12% humidity, which meant no hair or makeup issues for Karen. And no sweat for either of them.
That was the worst thing about living in Houston, without question. Sure, the traffic was hell, stealing hours, days, months of precious, irreplaceable time from the millions of people who lived there. But what big city with plenty of jobs, shopping, cultural attractions, housing options, etc. doesn’t have traffic? No, what set Houston apart was the wet air. No relief, ever. At least Miami had the beach, whereas Houston had…petroleum. Not exactly an even swap.
Needless to say, it did not take much convincing to get Karen on board for a five day trip to Santa Fe in August. Nor was there any difficulty in getting her to agree to make the 850 mile trek by car rather than plane. Even with an airline whose very existence was owed to excursions such as this, short trips from Dallas or Houston for cheap, Luke wanted HIS car, HIS schedule, and the freedom to pick up and bring home anything of interest to him along the way. Sure, the free flight on TexAz air, Karen's employer, would be quicker, but road travel is what Karen and Luke enjoyed doing together. The “destinations” were merely excuses to go somewhere, anywhere, together, jammed into their car and their hotel rooms for days on end, with nothing to do but see, do, and talk. Talk about their life back in Texas, or about how great it would be to live in (fill in the blank with the name of whatever place they happened to be visiting), or where they were going to raise their kids. Of course, they were not yet parents, nor were they even married. Karen Ramirez did not necessarily share Luke’s passions for history and science, but she did get a thrill out of being there with him to experience those moments of discovery and of seeing things in person. Likewise, Luke found it hard to get psyched up about a great new method for texturing walls in the kitchen, but he definitely wouldn’t miss out on doing it with Karen. Her incredible spirit and energy were at their biggest and brightest when she was doing what she loved, and she was a female Michelangelo at heart.
They were not alike, yet they were certainly not opposites. Each did draw something from the other that neither could explain, something wonderful and exciting and peaceful and secure and exhilarating all at once. A connection, plain and simple. A oneness that each of them felt to be a blessing, for lack of a better word.
Chapter 4
Back to the time before everything was commercialized or taken over by the current dominant cultures, in this case the time before the arrival of the European in the New World. He could not help but feel regret and remorse for what had transpired over the past five hundred years or so. Not guilt, per se, as Luke personally had nothing to do with past events. It was more of a sadness regarding his continual realization of what people are capable of doing to other people, and what it would be like to be on the wrong side of that interaction.
After quickly tucking the hand-worked silver necklace into his pocket and thanking the middle-aged, outdoors blanket-on-dusty-sidewalk-sitting Navajo lady for her fine piece of art, he wandered up the wide, tourist-crowded sidewalk a short distance while he waited for Karen. She was due back at this section of crafts any minute now from a quick trip to the public restroom inside of the air conditioned gift shop.
The air was a bit stifling inside of the walled and shop-lined plaza due to lack of breeze, but the heat was dry and therefore welcome. There was something about this place that made him feel a little stronger, a little healthier with each breath he took. Similar to their trip to the Sonoran Desert in Arizona, but somehow different. More…energy? Spirit? He could not quite place it, but he didn’t linger over the sudden awareness for more than a moment or two before his attention was captured by an elderly gentleman sitting just up ahead on the edge of the cobblestone path.
Something about the man’s gaze caught Luke off guard, almost startling him. It was far off, yet intense. As if nothing could disturb the man. For a split second, Luke thought he detected the man somehow shifting his attention to him, though his gaze never wavered. He looked to be 120 years old – or older – by the condition of his skin and the underlying muscle and skeletal structure that was so worn and deteriorated. The man strongly resembled some of the mummified remains that Luke had seen in museums, with a covering of leathery brownish-red skin somehow drawn over his bones and a few long strands of wiry, silver hair barely hanging from his scalp. The physical appearance of the ancient person might have been downright frightening to just about anyone who laid eyes on him, but Luke saw him more as a mint-condition mummy propped up in a natural, outdoors setting for all to glimpse. Few did glimpse, however, other than small children, as most people who were old enough to be conscious of such things would have felt it rude to stare.
In any case, Luke thought he briefly sensed something from the man, but was not sure what. An attempt at eye contact proved futile, so Luke started to approach the old, sitting man to say a simple “hello” upon passing by, hoping this would trigger some sort of response or acknowledgment that might lead to an actual interaction. Suddenly, Luke felt himself being lunged into from behind, the force of which almost knocked him to the ground! He quickly wheeled around to find his attacker standing right in front of him: medium length, sandy brown hair, intense chestnut colored eyes, and a body whose every curve he knew intimately. Karen just stood there giggling, taunting, asking, “What’s the deal, freak?! Why were you staring at that old man, and WHY were you going over to him? He looks like he doesn’t want to be disturbed – EVER!”
“Jeez, what’s up with the tackling dummy routine? You could hurt somebody – but I guess you already knew that, didn’t you?” said Luke, pulling the waist of his dark green cargo shorts down just enough to reveal a massive bruise on his hip, the most recent in an impressive line of battle scars inflicted at the hands (and shoulders, and elbows, and knees) of his dangerously “playful” girl. It was not fair: being the guy, he had to simply endure her good-natured abuse; if he protested any more than he just did, he would be subjected to even more physical and psychological abuse along the lines of “wuss boy,” “girlie girl”, and his favorite long-winded taunt of Karen, “getting my choice of two out three traits for my ideal male companion, how could I NOT choose ‘historian’ and ‘wanna-be science nerd’ over ‘stud’ or ‘bad boy’?” Not that Karen was a biker chick or anything like that; she just had more of a need for a physical outlet than Luke, or else she would most likely erupt into God knows what. Whereas he preferred the use of logic and reason and visualization to deal with frustrations or obstacles or, really, just about any situation that presented itself, she had to act on things. While every bit his spiritual and intellectual equal (though she had different strong suits than he did in her mental arsenal), she was more of a doer than a thinker. Take action now, then deal with the results of that action once they reveal themselves.
“No, seriously, Luke. What’s up with that guy? Is he ok? He looks like he’s in some kind of trance or state or something. It was almost creepy, the way you were just staring at him and starting to approach him, like he was drawing you closer to him somehow. What were you going to do when you got to him?”
“I…just see what would happen, I think, was the general plan. I was going to casually breeze by and nod my head, acknowledge his presence, do SOMETHING – I don’t know. Basically just see what he would do if I came close enough for him to do or say something to me. He never did shift his gaze though, and I guess you would be correct in saying that he was drawing me in.”
“Fine – let’s just go over to him and see what happens then.”
“Do you want to go with me, Karen? I mean, you just called the guy creepy.”
“No, I believe I called YOU creepy – I just called him ‘old’, but hey, if you think ‘old’ is just a synonym for ‘creepy’, then it sounds like you have your own issues to deal with, sweetie.” Touché – Karen was a master of getting him trapped in his own words, just for the amusing challenge of it. He used to do the same to her, infuriating her to no end, until she started turning the tables on him. It didn’t bother him as it used to set her off, although he had to admit that she was getting better at it than he ever was. And THAT was getting tougher to swallow. It was not enough that she could tackle him as forcefully and violently as she could, in a crowded public place no less, and get away with it while he could do nothing in retaliation; now, she had learned that she could keep up with (surpass?) him at his own mental games as well. Again, this was unfair, because if he got too deep into the word traps with her, she would clam up and be no fun for the rest of the day – or worse, even start to get a bit glassy-eyed, though she would not actually let him see her cry. She was funny that way, frequently defending her right, indeed, obligation, as a girl- sorry, woman – to cry, yet always fighting off the flow of tears if they ever did commence to welling. Yes, they had a constant, brutally challenging relationship on every level, and neither of them would ever dream of having it any other way.
Chapter 4.5
TexAz Air had Spanish blood in its veins. It had been formed as an exclusively Spanish-speaking company, catering to the many Spanish-speaking Americans along the states that shared a border with Mexico: Texas, California, New Mexico, and Arizona. Most of its customers and employees were bilingual, but the airline conducted its advertising and operations solely in Spanish. This way, communications would take half as long, since there was no repeating of everything in both English and Spanish. Not to mention the fact that it weeded out the English-only speakers, who could tend to get frustrated at the lack of their ability to communicate with a company in English in their own country.
Were there some Americans who were bothered by this? Of course there were – and TexAz Air exploited this language bigotry to its fullest advantage. It was able to use it as a tool to sell itself even more effectively to those Americans who were proud of their Mexican or Spanish heritages, and among those individuals was one Karen Ramirez. Born in Mexico to a Spanish father and a Mexican mother, she believed whole-heartedly in the mission of TexAz Air. Because of that passion, along with her gregarious personality and mental quickness, she had risen quickly through the ranks after graduating from the University of Arizona in Tucson with a Marketing degree.
Karen now served as the Director of Marketing, Tourism. Her role was to create innovative programs with the objective of appealing to and increasing the tourist passenger demographic throughout the American Southwest. While visiting the old Spanish mission of San Xavier del Bac, south of Tucson towards Mexico, her life had changed forever. Visiting the mission with the intent of researching how best to promote that site as one of her featured destinations for prospective passengers on TexAz Air, she had been approached by a blond-haired, blue-eyed American man who, like her, had appeared to be in his mid-late 20’s.
His name was Luke, and he had assumed that she was a staff member at the gift shop. That misunderstanding turned into a joint exploration of the mission for the rest of the morning, followed by an impromptu jaunt south to the border. They crossed into the town of Nogales on the Mexican side for lunch. Karen Ramirez and Luke Pierce had scarcely spent more than a day apart from each other since.
Chapter 5
“NO!!! NOT NOW!” But yes, and now. He heard and felt the rhythmic grinding of the wheel rim through the shredded tire against the hot pavement. For a good 15 seconds or so,
