“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He releases his grip. “Just hear me out, okay? I don’t know how humanity is going to perish, but I think I know the purpose behind that deep-space radio transmission.”

“Go on.”

“The signal was an alarm clock, traveling down the Black Road, a celestial corridor that’s aligning itself to whatever’s buried in the Gulf.”

Foletta was right. His delusions are getting worse. “Mick, take it easy. There’s nothing down there—”

“You’re wrong! I can feel it, just like I can feel the Black Road to Xibalba opening wider. The pathway’s becoming more pronounced—”

He’s rambling …

“I can feel it spreading, I don’t know how, but I can, I swear it! And there’s something else—”

She sees tears of frustration leak from his eyes, or is it genuine fear?

“I can sense a presence looming on the other side of the Black Road. And it can sense me!”

The nurse enters, followed by three imposing orderlies.

“Good evening, Mr.Gabriel. It’s time for your medication.”

Mick spots the syringe. “That’s not zyprexa!”

Two orderlies grab his arms, the third tackling him by the legs.

Dominique watches helplessly as he struggles. “Nurse, what’s going on here?”

“Mr.Gabriel is to receive three shots of Thorazine a day.”

“Three?”

“Foletta wants to turn me into a vegetable! Dom, don’t let him—” Mick is thrashing wildly on the bed, the orderlies struggling to keep him down. “Don’t let them do it. Dominique, please—”

“Nurse, I happen to be Mr.Gabriel’s psychiatrist, and I—”

“Not anymore. Dr. Foletta’s taken over. You can speak to him about it in the morning.” The nurse swabs alcohol on Mick’s arm. “Hold him steady—”

“We’re trying. Just stick him—”

Mick raises his head, the blood vessels protruding from his neck. “Dom, you have to do something! The Chicxulub crater—the clock’s ticking—the clock’s—”

Dominique sees the dark eyes roll up, his head flopping back against the pillow.

“There, that’s better,” the nurse coos, retracting the syringe. “You can go now, Intern Vazquez. Mr.Gabriel won’t be needing your services anymore.”

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

OCTOBER 21, 2012

PENTAGON,
ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Pierre Borgia enters the briefing room and takes his seat at the oval conference table between Secretary of Defense Dick Przystas and US Army Chief of Staff General James Adams. Seated directly across from him is CIA Director Patrick Hurley, Air Force Chief of Staff, General Arne Cohen, and Chief of Naval Operations Jeffrey Gordon. The six-foot-six-inch Chief of Naval Operations acknowledges Borgia with a quick nod.

General “Big Mike” Costolo, Commandant of the Marine Corps, follows Borgia in, taking his place to Gordon’s right.