“The Bible refers to them as giants. The Book of Genesis briefly mentions the Nephilim as being fallen angels, men of superior intelligence. The Dead Sea Scrolls insinuate the Nephilim may have bred with human women before the time of the Great Flood, a period that equates with the melting of the last ice age.”

“Wait, are you saying these aliens crossbred with humans? That’s sick.”

“I’m not saying anything, but it makes perfect sense if you think about it. You’ve heard of evolution’s missing link, right? Maybe it was the synthesis of an advanced race of humanoid DNA that caused Homo sapiens to leapfrog up the evolutionary ladder.”

Dominique shakes her head, bewildered. “I can’t handle all this—just keep reading.”

Mick refocuses on the message. “Nephilim leaders weaned your species into societies, guiding the labors of your salvation, opening your minds so that you could see. Two worlds, one species, bound over space and time by a common enemy—an enemy that devours the souls of our ancestors. An enemy whose presence will soon eliminate your own species from this world.”

“Whoa, wait—what enemy? That thing in the Gulf? What’s he mean by devouring our souls? Is he saying we’re all going to die?”

“Let me finish, there’s one last passage.” Mick wipes the beads of perspiration from his eyes as he refocuses on the incandescent, bloodred text.

“I am Kukulcan, teacher of Man. I am Guardian, last of the Nephilim. Close to death, my soul is prepared to make the journey into the spiritual world. The message is transcribed, all things readied for One Hunahpu’s arrival. Two worlds, one people, one destiny. Only One Hunahpu can seal the cosmic portal before the enemy arrives. Only One Hunahpu can make the journey to Xibalba and save the souls of our ancestors.”

Mick stops reading.

“Okay, Mick, what’s all that supposed to mean? I thought this One Hunahpu was the guy in the creation myth who got his head cut off. How the hell’s he supposed to help us? And what’s Guardian mean by the cosmic portal must be sealed? Mick? Hey, are you all right? You look pale.”

He slumps to the floor, leaning back against the granite tub.

“What’s wrong? What is it?”

“Just give me a second.”

She sits down next to him and massages the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. You okay?”

He nods, taking in slow, deep breaths.

“Was that the end of the message?”

He nods again.

“What’s wrong? Tell me—”

“According to the Popol Vuh, One Hunahpu died long ago.”

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know. I think we’re in big trouble.”

North American Aerospace Defense Command, NORAD
Colorado

11:01 P.M.