Page 108
Story: Final Strike
Jordan lowered his weapon and pulled his radio out. “Command, this is Eagle. Over.”
Jorge shook his head. “No work. It no work here.”
“Can someone tell me what in blazes is going on and what just happened?” asked a man with a strong British accent, rubbing the sleeve of his dirty shirt.
Roth struggled to stand and nearly dropped. The people around him had also been there on the pyramid top. The prisoners and rescuers had been teleported as a group. One of the army soldiers helped steady him. “Prime Minister, my name is Jonathon Roth. I was abducted too. This is my daughter, Suki. And this man is Jorge, who runs an orphanage here on the island of Cozumel.”
“Cozumel? Vat?” asked another man, this one with a German accent.
Roth took a deep breath. “Just . . . give us a minute. If you please.” He turned to Suki. “I don’t speak Spanish very well, and Jorge doesn’t speak English very well. How are we going to talk to him?”
“Let me help,” Angélica offered. “I can translate.”
Suki turned to her. “A group of army people were supposed to be waiting for us. Find out what happened.”
Angélica looked out of place now in her bloody Maya dress, but if she felt self-conscious, it didn’t show. She spoke clearly and gently to Jorge, and Roth knew enough Spanish to recognize she was asking about the soldiers.
Jorge answered rapidly but with a smile and made several hand gestures to articulate his points.
“This place is sacred ground,” Angélica said. “Soldiers from the Mexican army were coming to attack the Americans.” She paused. “He said . . . he said he told them all to leave.”
“That doesn’t sound right,” Jordan answered brusquely. “I know Captain Rose. He never would have abandoned us without a fight.”
Jorge shook his head and rattled off more Spanish.
“There was no fight,” Angélica explained. “He told them to leave and wait for you at the beach. He will bring you all to them so you can return home.”
“What sort of nonsense is this?” the British PM demanded. “Who are you? Why would they strand us here voluntarily?”
Jorge’s face became stern. A blast of white-hot light exploded around them, just as it had on the pyramid in Calakmul. It was so bright it burned the eyes. Roth heard a strong, powerful voice utter a command in Spanish.
“¡Iros!” It was Jorge. But it no longer sounded like him. It no longer looked like him either.
Just as they had atop the pyramid, they cowered before a being sheathed in lightning.
Then the light coalesced, just as it had with Ezequiel, until it was gathered around Jorge in a pillar. He looked dangerous—powerful—his eyes piercing to the soul.
“¿Ahora me crees?” he asked with a tone of impatience.
“Now do you believe me?” Angélica gasped, translating for them.
Roth’s mind was still blown. Jorge was some powerful Maya demigod? When they were captured by Calakmul’s men at the orphanage, one of the security officers had held a gun to Jorge’s head. Why hadn’t he shown his power then?
“Yes, we believe,” Suki answered. She bowed her head to him.
Jorge frowned and motioned for her. “Up. Up. Es okay. Es okay.” The light dimmed, and then it was gone.
He began to speak quickly, gesturing as he did. He’d paused for Angélica to translate his words.
“This island is dedicated to Ix Chel. It is a place of healing. A place of rebirth. It will be a spiritual center of Kukulkán’s kingdom when he returns. No soldiers are permitted here. I was here the day that . . .” She stopped, her eyes growing wide. Jorge gestured for her to repeat what he had said. “I-I was here the day that Cortés came with his soldiers. I have lived on this island for many, many years awaiting the fulfillment of Kukulkán’s promise. It is near. He is coming.”
Jorge tapped his chest. “Me llamo Jeremiah. Mi apodo es Jorge.”
“He said his name is Jeremy. No, Jeremiah. His nickname is Jorge.”
Jorge spoke again, slowly and deliberately.
“He and his two . . . companions . . . Ezequiel Cumenon, who we have met, and one other named Isaiah. These three have been the guardians of the prophecy. They have served the people of this land for . . . for thousands of years. They will prepare the kingdom of Cemanahuac for Kukulkán’s return.”
Jorge shook his head. “No work. It no work here.”
“Can someone tell me what in blazes is going on and what just happened?” asked a man with a strong British accent, rubbing the sleeve of his dirty shirt.
Roth struggled to stand and nearly dropped. The people around him had also been there on the pyramid top. The prisoners and rescuers had been teleported as a group. One of the army soldiers helped steady him. “Prime Minister, my name is Jonathon Roth. I was abducted too. This is my daughter, Suki. And this man is Jorge, who runs an orphanage here on the island of Cozumel.”
“Cozumel? Vat?” asked another man, this one with a German accent.
Roth took a deep breath. “Just . . . give us a minute. If you please.” He turned to Suki. “I don’t speak Spanish very well, and Jorge doesn’t speak English very well. How are we going to talk to him?”
“Let me help,” Angélica offered. “I can translate.”
Suki turned to her. “A group of army people were supposed to be waiting for us. Find out what happened.”
Angélica looked out of place now in her bloody Maya dress, but if she felt self-conscious, it didn’t show. She spoke clearly and gently to Jorge, and Roth knew enough Spanish to recognize she was asking about the soldiers.
Jorge answered rapidly but with a smile and made several hand gestures to articulate his points.
“This place is sacred ground,” Angélica said. “Soldiers from the Mexican army were coming to attack the Americans.” She paused. “He said . . . he said he told them all to leave.”
“That doesn’t sound right,” Jordan answered brusquely. “I know Captain Rose. He never would have abandoned us without a fight.”
Jorge shook his head and rattled off more Spanish.
“There was no fight,” Angélica explained. “He told them to leave and wait for you at the beach. He will bring you all to them so you can return home.”
“What sort of nonsense is this?” the British PM demanded. “Who are you? Why would they strand us here voluntarily?”
Jorge’s face became stern. A blast of white-hot light exploded around them, just as it had on the pyramid in Calakmul. It was so bright it burned the eyes. Roth heard a strong, powerful voice utter a command in Spanish.
“¡Iros!” It was Jorge. But it no longer sounded like him. It no longer looked like him either.
Just as they had atop the pyramid, they cowered before a being sheathed in lightning.
Then the light coalesced, just as it had with Ezequiel, until it was gathered around Jorge in a pillar. He looked dangerous—powerful—his eyes piercing to the soul.
“¿Ahora me crees?” he asked with a tone of impatience.
“Now do you believe me?” Angélica gasped, translating for them.
Roth’s mind was still blown. Jorge was some powerful Maya demigod? When they were captured by Calakmul’s men at the orphanage, one of the security officers had held a gun to Jorge’s head. Why hadn’t he shown his power then?
“Yes, we believe,” Suki answered. She bowed her head to him.
Jorge frowned and motioned for her. “Up. Up. Es okay. Es okay.” The light dimmed, and then it was gone.
He began to speak quickly, gesturing as he did. He’d paused for Angélica to translate his words.
“This island is dedicated to Ix Chel. It is a place of healing. A place of rebirth. It will be a spiritual center of Kukulkán’s kingdom when he returns. No soldiers are permitted here. I was here the day that . . .” She stopped, her eyes growing wide. Jorge gestured for her to repeat what he had said. “I-I was here the day that Cortés came with his soldiers. I have lived on this island for many, many years awaiting the fulfillment of Kukulkán’s promise. It is near. He is coming.”
Jorge tapped his chest. “Me llamo Jeremiah. Mi apodo es Jorge.”
“He said his name is Jeremy. No, Jeremiah. His nickname is Jorge.”
Jorge spoke again, slowly and deliberately.
“He and his two . . . companions . . . Ezequiel Cumenon, who we have met, and one other named Isaiah. These three have been the guardians of the prophecy. They have served the people of this land for . . . for thousands of years. They will prepare the kingdom of Cemanahuac for Kukulkán’s return.”
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