Panicking, Mick turns to flee, only to find his legs churning in place as he is drawn upward and away from the lake’s surface. He dives onto his belly in midair, clawing helplessly at the energy field as his body is wrenched backward and onto the platform by an overpowering, icy-cold, malevolent presence.

Mick lands hard on his knees, falling forward as if thrust into worship. Hyperventilating, his mind gripped in fear, he looks up to gaze upon his keeper.

It is a pod, as high and wide as a locomotive, as long as a football field. A myriad of scorched tentaclelike conduits originating from beneath the platform feed into the enclosed, smoked-glass object like a thousand alien intravenous tubes.

Why do you fear me, Michael?

A violet surge of energy ignites within the interior of the cylinder, the flash momentarily exposing the shadowy presence of an immense being.

Mick is paralyzed, his face a frozen mask of terror, his limbs no longer able to support his weight.

Look at me, Michael. Gaze upon the face of your flesh and blood!

Mick’s thoughts shatter as he is shoved headfirst against the glasslike surface by an invisible force. He can feel the presence within the smoke-filled chamber—a presence of pure evil that causes a sulfuric bile to rise from his throat and gag him. He squeezes his eyes shut, his mind unable to grasp what terror may lie before him.

A wave of energy jolts his eyelids open, pinning them back.

He sees a face appear through a yellow haze within the pod. Mick’s heart pounds through his chest.

No—

It is Julius, his father’s snow-white hair tousled about like Einstein’s, the tan, wrinkled face appearing like worn leather. The soft, familiar brown eyes stare back at him.

Michael, how can you fear your own father?

You’re not my father—

But of course I am. Think back, Michael. Don’t you remember how your mother died? You were so angry at me. You hated me for what I had done. You looked into my eyes just as you do now—AND YOU CONDEMNED ME TO HELL!

The monstrous voice deepens as it echoes in his ears. Mick screams through the regulator, feeling his mind snap as Julius’s face dissolves into a pair of bloodred, demonic headlight-sized reptilian eyes—the pupils—golden, diabolical slits that burn into his soul and scorch the very fabric of his sanity.

Mick lets out a bloodcurdling scream as his tormented mind is fondled by icy-cold fingers of death. In one adrenaline-enhanced motion, he leaps off the platform, only to be snatched in midair and held.

You are my flesh, you are my blood. I’ve been watching you, waiting for this day to come. I know you’ve felt my presence. We’ll be together soon. United … father and son.