And then another bizarre thing happens. As he removes the mask, a powerful wave of invisible energy rises like a gust of air from the surface of the lake and strikes his arm. The face mask is levitated straight into the air, where it remains hovering, three feet above his head.

Mick stands. As he reaches out to retrieve it, he registers an intense field of electromagnetic energy, which resonates through his brain like a reverberating tuning fork.

Disoriented, he reaches blindly for the oxygen tank as the cardinal fires dance in his blurry vision. Giving up, he falls backward against the metal and sucks in more oxygen, closing his eyes to the vertigo.

Michael …

Mick opens his eyes, stifling his breath.

Michael …

He stares out at the lake. Am I hallucinating?

Come to me, my son.

The oxygen mask falls from his mouth. “Who’s out there?”

I’ve missed you.

“Who are you? Where am I? What is this place?”

We used to call Nazca our own private little purgatory, do you remember, Michael? Or has that brilliant mind of yours finally failed you after so many lonely years in the asylum?

Mick feels his heart flutter. Scorching tears stream down his beet red cheeks. “Pop? Pop, is that really you? Am I dead? Pop, where are you? I can’t see you. How can you be here? Where is here?”

Come to me, Michael, and I’ll show you.

In a dreamlike state, he steps off the grating and drops to the lake.

“Oh, shit, oh, God!”

Mick looks down, his mind overwhelmed by what his senses are reporting. He is weightless, defying gravity, floating above the silvery surface on an emerald green cushion of energy that courses through every fiber of his being, intoxicating him. Exhilarating sensations rise up through his bones and exit his scalp, causing every strand of hair on his head to stand on end. Adrenaline and fear battle for control of his bladder. Feeling the air tank levitate away from his back, he hurriedly tightens the Velcro strap around his waist, then returns the regulator to his mouth.

Come to me, Michael.

A single step forward propels him along the energy field like an unbound Baryshnikov. Emboldened, he executes a half dozen more strides, then finds himself soaring across the lake’s mirrorlike expanse, a wingless angel guided by an invisible force.

“Pop?”

A little farther …

“Pop, where are you?”

As he approaches the far side of the chamber he sees an immense, charred-black platform looming thirty feet above the glistening surface like a barge from hell. A ripple of terror grips his soul as he realizes that he cannot stop, that his momentum through this weightless world is guiding him to the object against his will.

I have you.