Prophecy of the Mayan Undead

PART ONE

Chapter One

She was surprised at how uncomfortable she was when she woke up. At first she couldn't figure out why her body ached so much in unfamiliar ways. She tried to move the parts that were hurting, and realized that she was tied up, her hands behind her back, and her ankles rubbed raw by the ropes that held them tightly together. Judging by the amount of stinging pain she felt, she figured her wrists and ankles were probably bleeding--the bonds were that tight.

She was also in a small, dark, enclosed place that appeared to be moving. She tried to scream in her panic, but there was a ball-gag in her mouth, so the only audible noise she made was a whimper. I want to live through this! If I keep up this panic I'll hyper-ventilate and pass out again. If I'm conscious, maybe I can escape. If I'm unconscious, I may not ever wake up again. Think, Keesha, think. What's the last thing I remember? I was walking down the street trying to get to the train station. I thought I was being followed--obviously I was. I was grabbed from behind. I felt a needle in my neck. I was drugged! Now I'm in the trunk of a car, trussed like a turkey. What the hell do I do now?

The motion of the car ceased and she could hear music briefly. It was turned down, and she heard male voices arguing.

What the fuck did you do that for? I like that song!

I thought I heard a noise from her back there. I don't want her waking up until we are ready to get rid of her.

Can we fuck her first? She's got nice tits.

Fuck yeah. But we don't want her struggling around back there. We gotta keep her drugged up until we are in a nice, isolated spot. That's where we'll dump the body.

Well I don't hear nothin'. The light's changin'. Turn the music back up.

Okay, okay. She's quiet. It must have been part of the song.

The car started moving again, and the noise of the road under the tires made her unable to hear much beyond an occasional squawk from the radio. She was alone with her thoughts again--not a good thing. She had spent too many days and nights on the run, never sure just where the next threat was coming from, but always aware that she was being followed. She had no idea how they always seemed to know where she was. But no matter where she hid, she had been found each time. She was so sick and tired of being chased that it was almost a relief to have been caught--almost. Of course there was the whole gang-rape and eventual death thing, to make the relieved feeling extremely short-lived.

Just how long have I been running? Time is just a blur. When you're living a normal life, you have calendars, clocks, job responsibilities, all kinds of things to let you know how many days have passed, and what day of the week it is. I escaped from the men who broke into my apartment, and I've been running ever since. I emptied my bank account, so any money I spent on motels and food wouldn't be traceable. But the pursuers are always right behind me.

I don't remember the last time I got a good night's sleep--or even a shower. I've been wearing the same clothes for, like, forever. My stomach growls a lot, to remind me that eating has been sporadic. I've been drinking water whenever I'm near a tap of any kind--even from decorative fountains. I must look terrible, because that's how I feel. My head aches, I'm bone-tired, and I'm tied up in an uncomfortable position. I should be thinking about a way to escape, but I'm just exhausted. I want this nightmare to be over. One way or another, it has to end.

The car was slowing down. The radio was silenced and she could hear male voices swearing loudly. The car coasted to a stop.

God dammit! We are out of fucking gas? I thought you filled it at the last station we stopped at, you asshole!

You didn't give me enough money for that, the other voice whined. I had to buy cigarettes and beer too. I got us a half a tank. I thought that would be enough."

"We are in the middle of butt-fuck no-where, and you thought a half-tank would be enough? The last gas station we passed was about five miles back! Now we gotta walk back there to get more!"

You want I should stay here, to make sure the bitch stays in the car?

Hell no! I can't trust you not to pull her out and fuck her the minute I'm not here. She's smart enough to escape once your dick is hard, and you're not paying attention. Besides, one gas can only hold two gallons. That would get us back to that station, but not to where we want to go. We both have to walk back there, and both of us will have to carry a coupla gas cans each back to the car.

Aw, man! I can't walk ten miles.

Then I'll just shoot you now, how's that?

Aw you're just foolin', right dude? You need me to carry a coupla cans back.

You're damn right, I do. Come on, let's get moving. It's getting late. We gotta get back to the station before it closes. Then we'll put the gas in the car, drive up to a more deserted place, set the car on fire and dump the bitch in a ditch.

Yeah, dump the bitch in the ditch. You're a funny guy!

Move it.

The sound of two car doors being opened and slammed shut was deafening. The voices continued to argue as the men walked away from the back of the car, presumably back in the direction they had just come from.

She held her breath, praying that the men wouldn't think to open the trunk and drug her again before they left. Once she was unable to hear their voices anymore, she tried to figure out a plan.

Think, Keesha! Think! It's dark in here, but I might be able to find a latch for the trunk, to open it from the inside. Shit! No latch. Just my luck. Those creeps have an old car! Can I turn enough to use my feet on the corner end of the trunk? The lights are somewhere there. If can kick out one of the rear lights, maybe someone will notice. Yeah, right. I haven't heard another car passing us since we stopped moving. And if we really are in the middle of nowhere, they might not have much traffic here. Especially after dark.

Panic rose like bile in her throat. A scream bubbled up and out of her mouth. All that did was make her throat hurt. The ball gag prevented most of the noise from escaping. She panted fast through her nose, to try to get herself under control again. Tentatively she began to kick purposefully at the corner of the car. At first nothing was moving. Then she felt as if her foot was making headway in pushing part of the car out of the way.

Kick. Please God, let me escape again! Kick. I promise I'll be a better person from now on! Kick. Oh God, please don't let me die here, in the middle of no where! Kick--.kick--kick.

Chapter Two

Yuri Kozakov smiled to himself as he woke up, expecting this to be a good night. He had been looking for someone to answer his questions for years, though he'd forgotten exactly how many years. It didn't matter because he'd found her now. He hadn't even known what kind of person he needed, until he did some research of his own.

He had spent many hours on-line. Usually only the youngest ones were good at using the new technology. But he was determined, so he had taught himself how to use it. He had learned a little from a programmer he had entertained one night, but that was enough to get him started. He had discovered that the field of knowledge he needed was neurobiology, and that he specifically needed someone skilled in molecular biology, with an interest in biomedical engineering. He needed someone to research how the brain and body synthesized information, and how the various parts worked together. That was his starting point.

He read papers published by the researchers who were in the United States. He could have chosen any country, but had grown to like the casual freedom taken for granted in the USA. So he honed in on researchers, and found that much of what he was looking for was being published in the Midwest--especially in the Chicago area--by the researchers who worked for the various teaching hospitals there. When he first read an analysis of her work, he had been excited enough to Google her name and read her work for himself. He had been impressed by her intelligence and her knowledge, and eager to meet the person who he felt could finally do the research to answer the questions that had been troubling him for so long.

Her profile indicated she seldom took any time off. She spent most of her time doing the research that was her life's passion. Once he found a picture of her, he quickly located her office, monitoring her comings and goings for a while. He observed that only once in a great while did she go with fellow scientists to have a meal, or a couple of drinks, in a local bar close to her office. She had a man in her life, though she didn't see him very often. He was a businessman who exuded wealth and privilege. There was also something under the surface that Yuri found distasteful, when he got close enough to them one night to smell it. The man had sensed he was being followed, but Yuri knew how to avoid detection.

It was only a minor matter to get the cooperation of one of her co-workers. He sidled up to him one night at the bar, bought him a drink, and proceeded to mesmerize him when he went to use the bathroom. Yuri hadn't needed to use a bathroom for anything other than assignations for a long time--but they were good places for privacy. He had convinced her co-worker that he was an old friend from his college days, and had accompanied him back out to the public area, so that he would introduce Yuri to the object of his interest.

Hey, Keesha, I wanna introduce you to my old friend Yuri Kozakov. We had some classes together back in the day, and he's in town for that conference you spoke at yesterday. Yuri, this is Keesha Brown.

Yuri bowed. I am in awe at meeting you, Ms. Brown. I have read many of your papers and have long wanted to speak to you of a project near and dear to my heart.

Keesha smiled in a distracted way, while she craned her head around, searching the crowd. Really? That's cool. I'm waiting for my boyfriend to get back with my drink, so we won't be able to talk long.

Yuri grinned. Ah, you suspect that I only want to meet you in order to pursue you, because you are such a lovely woman? That had occurred to me. But I'm such a nerd, Ms Brown, that the real reason I wanted to meet you was to discuss your theories on molecular biology.

Keesha turned her attention to him. Oh? And what do you find particularly interesting, Mr--what was it?

Yuri indicated the seat across from her. May I?

Keesha nodded.

Kozakov. And what I wanted to discuss with you was your theory on the origins of intelligence and systemic functioning in regards to environmental stresses.

With that, her interest was guaranteed, and they had spent the next few hours leaning close to one another to talk, trying to be heard over the loud music, yet both fascinated with the subjects they were discussing. When the boyfriend did return with her drink, he tried unsuccessfully to insert himself into the conversation. But once Keesha got to talking about her research, there was very little that could distract her from her passion.

Yuri privately celebrated when the boyfriend shrugged and mumbled about seeing someone else he wanted to talk to, before he left them to their science. He faced the bar, while Keesha sat across from him, facing the wall behind him. He had seen the boyfriend accosted by a number of women, many of whom he danced with, and one of whom he followed into the bathroom. No doubt for the privacy, a part of Yuri's brain mused. The rest of his cognitive skills were absorbed with trying to keep up with the formidable intelligence on display from the woman he was becoming enthralled with. They had reluctantly stopped talking when the lights flashed hours later, to indicate that the establishment was closing. Keesha hadn't seemed to notice that Yuri barely sipped at his one drink. Once she had begun earnestly delving into her research topics, she had stopped ordering wine and sipped only water. The boyfriend reappeared, loudly proclaiming that it was time for him to drive her home.

Before he left, Yuri stood and bowed formally, before taking her hand to kiss the back of it. Keesha smiled shyly, as if not used to such polite treatment. Yuri asked if it was too presumptuous of him to get her phone number, so that they could continue their discussions at a future date.

The boyfriend had sneered at him when he said the word date. I don't think that will be possible. Keesha is a very busy woman. And what little free time she does have, she spends with me.

Don't be silly, Dan. Mr. Kozakov is a fellow researcher, and I think we can learn a lot from each other. Here's my number. She scribbled on a napkin and handed it to Yuri.

He was amused by the anger and jealousy directed towards him by the boyfriend, who smelled like he had just had sex. Aware that only he would be able to pick up a scent as subtle as that, he never-the-less felt antipathy towards a man who would cheat on a woman as fascinating and desirable as Keesha.

That was almost two weeks ago. Yuri waited a couple of days, in order to not make the woman feel threatened. Then he called her and asked her to have coffee with him, so that they could spend more time discussing her current research.

Coffee? Yes, that would be great. I can't wait to tell you what I'm on the brink of discovering. In fact, I might have the greatest success of my life to tell you about when we meet next week. I'm so very close that I expect to find the enzyme responsible for enhancing intelligence in the next day or so. Won't that be fantastic?

Her voice was excited, and Yuri was surprised to feel his body responding in a way that he had thought himself incapable of recently. It had been so long since he had felt any kind of sexual urge, that he had begun to think that was behind him for good. Now he realized with a start, that the combination of frighteningly high intelligence, with her striking good looks, was bringing that part of him to life again. They had made a date to meet for coffee after she got off work the following Thursday night. Which was tonight.

Yuri smiled to himself in the dark, remembering what she looked like. She was tall for a woman, with smooth cafe-au-lait skin the color of fine milk chocolate. Her hair was short, but the natural curls suited her face. Yuri had been surprised by the color of her eyes. Their hazel color snapped with excitement when she talked about her research, the passion in her voice echoed by the sparkles of yellow and green that flashed across her irises when she spoke. She had the features of what in the old days would have been referred to as a Nubian goddess, with full lips that accentuated her perfect white teeth. And though she was not fat, she had the generous curves one expected in a beautiful example of a Black woman, her hips gently rounded, her breasts full and high.

Yuri hadn't pleasured himself for many years and he wasn't about to begin tonight. Instead he promised himself that once he had gotten the bewitching Keesha to agree to do the research he wanted her to do, to answer his questions, he would set about making her forget the unfaithful mortal Dan, in order to share the pleasures and delights that only he, Yuri Kozakov, would be able to introduce her to. He smiled.

As he dressed for their date, he took special care in his appearance, choosing a black silk shirt that emphasized his preternaturally blond hair and white skin. If she was a Nubian goddess, he was the epitome of a Russian god--perhaps what one would imagine the Norse gods must have looked like. He was tall, well-built, and fair-haired, with surprisingly light, icy blue eyes. He made sure to choose pants that hugged his body, so that even she couldn't help but notice his powerful thighs, and the unmistakable bulge that thinking about her produced against the zipper. With a final look at himself in the mirror, he winked, before setting out on what he hoped would be an eventful and productive evening.

Chapter Three

Yuri tapped his finger against the table for the umpteenth time, then looked at his watch yet again. She's already two hours late. I know she's a dedicated scientist who might have lost track of the time, but she hasn't answered the texts I sent, or picked up her phone when I left a message.

He shook his head at the waitress who was standing in front of him with the coffeepot. Instead he resolutely got up and paid for his coffee on the way out the door. I know where she lives. I know where she works also, but that is a guarded installation, so it would be easier to see if she is at home--perhaps she forgot about our date? Or I can wait around outside until she returns home. Either way, I need to feed first.

Taking a slight detour into a nearby alley, Yuri found the homeless man whose heartbeat he had heard as he passed. The man was muttering to himself, so didn't hear when Yuri crept up behind him to quickly take what he needed. He left the man snoring loudly next to the dumpster he had been searching in for food. He would wake up the next day after having dreamed all night of eating everything that he liked, in the finest restaurants in the city. Yuri liked to repay what he had taken, in an effort to assuage his conscience--and to contribute good karma to an often cold and unfeeling world.

He found her apartment complex easily. Despite the security protocols, within a few minutes he was walking down the hallway towards her apartment. He knocked loudly on the door before trying the handle. To his surprise it turned in his hand. He opened the door and entered the apartment, drawing in an unaccustomed breath in surprise and anger, as he looked around.

There had been a fight there, and quite a violent one by the looks of things. Furniture was thrown around, lamps and glasses had been broken. There was blood on one of the pieces of glass. Yuri's fangs descended as he bent to pick up the object to smell, then taste the evidence. It was not her blood. But where is she? She must have been set upon by someone, or perhaps more than one person, who snuck into the apartment while she was already in it. Or did she enter it to find them here? Either way, she's gone. No wonder she didn't make our date tonight. The blood tastes old--quite a few days old. So she has been gone for days? To where?

He quickly searched her apartment for anything that might give him a clue as to where she might have run to. He remembered the boyfriend. Of course. She'd have run there first. Now where is her computer? I can break into it and hopefully find an address or phone number for him. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. With one final look around, he promised the air that he would make someone pay for the damage that had been done to her piece of mind. And if she's been harmed? I'll tear the limbs off of those who are responsible, laughing while they bleed to death.

A few minutes later, Yuri scaled up the side of the building that Dan lived in, up to the penthouse. He stood on the balcony watching and listening, as Dan made a phone call.

Is it done yet? Dan listened, then responded in a petulant voice. You said it would be done already. I know you're just waiting until they call you to tell you it's over. But every minute that she's still alive is another minute that she could find someone to believe her about what's been going on. That would jeopardize the plan. He listened again, then sighed heavily. Fine! Just let me know, all right?

Yuri felt the growl start somewhere deep inside of his soul. He watched until the perfidious boyfriend turned his back to the balcony, to pour some brandy into a snifter. He didn't even have time to turn around before Yuri had sunk his teeth into his neck, to sip the blood, while he delicately sorted through the recent memories.

Two men have been pursuing her. They chased her for days. They found her today. They're driving her to a desolate place so they can kill her. She knows too much. We can't let her ruin all of these centuries of planning.

With a start, Yuri broke off the contact to stare at the man who had collapsed at his feet. Centuries of planning? He's mortal! Too young to have even seen a half a century. What is this all about?

Danny-boy? When are you coming back to bed? Two naked blonde women stood in the doorway leading to what apparently was the bedroom, staring in shock at Yuri standing over the object of their desire.

Damn! Throwing himself across the room, Yuri grabbed a wrist of each of the girls and twisted to force them to kneel in front of him. Look at me! He commanded aloud, while exerting enough mental force to capture their minds, but not to destroy them. He created their memory of watching as Dan collapsed, while pouring himself the brandy. No one else was in the room.

He let go of them both, turning to walk back to the balcony. He gathered his strength. Taking a deep breath, he imagined himself riding the night breezes out of the city. And he did.

A short while later, Yuri stood in the middle of a road, in a desolate part of northwestern Illinois. He knew that the men who had kidnapped Keesha were heading out into the country. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the unique sound of her heartbeat, which had imprinted itself on his memory when they leaned close to one another to talk in the crowded bar. Then he opened his mind, listening to all of the sounds of the night. It was hard to do, with all of the night creatures moving about, rustling leaves, hooting, chirping, feeding and fighting. He was sweating blood, wiping the red drops off of his forehead repeatedly, as he searched for the proverbial needle-in-a-haystack.

If I have to stand here until the sun rises to scorch me to a cinder, I will. She can't be dead already. I have to find her. Wait! Is that? Is that--her? Yes! Keep breathing, Keesha. I'm coming. He allowed himself to concentrate only on the unique sound, as he flew through the night, silent and deadly in his aim. He was almost there when her heartbeat sped up. He quickened his pace.

Chapter Four

Keesha was terrified to heat the men return. They opened the gas tank to refill the car.

Maybe I should open the trunk and make sure the bitch is still in there?

You idiot! The trunk is still closed. I tied her up myself. Not even Houdini could get out of those knots. I learned how to make them nice and tight in the Navy.

Can't I open it up and just play with her a little? She's not going to complain with that gag in her mouth--and who's she going to tell?

Fine. I'll finish pouring the gas in. You go have a little fun with our guest. Then we gotta get outta here before someone notices the car.

Who? We never saw no cars on the way into or out of town. There's no one out here to hear her scream.

The trunk was opened. Keesha closed her eyes, hoping that if she appeared to be still unconscious, they would leave her alone. She felt the tip of a gun against her cheek, as it stroked her face.

Aw, she's still out cold. That's no fun.

Just feel her up, then let's get out of here. I'm getting a weird feeling that we're being watched.

By who? There's no one else out in this God-forsaken--what the fuck?

Keesha heard a swooshing sound. She opened her eyes to see a blur of movement. She heard a snarling growl, combined with the yells of real fear coming from her two tormentors.

Kill the bitch!

She felt the gun stuck into her ribs and held her breath. The gun fired, the bullet pierced into her, and she found it difficult to let out the breath--or to breathe in any more air.

There was the awful sound of breaking bones--then silence. Someone leaned over into the trunk to lift her gently out, as if she was as light as a feather. She felt herself being laid on the ground, fighting to breathe. Her blood pulsed out of her through the chest wound, soaking her clothes, making them stick to her. Her rescuer tore through the knots that she had been unable to budge, and she tried to thank him with her last gasps of air.

Tha--thanks. She choked on her own blood. Her head was beginning to swim.

Keesha, look at me.

The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but very distant, as if she was moving far away from him. She tried to focus her gaze, seeing only the outline of a man's torso, with a face barely visible, topped with white hair that shone in the dim moonlight.

"I had hoped to spare you this, but I have no other choice now. I can't lose you. I won't. But you must choose right