‘Run,’ whispers Brandy.

Lilith takes off, sprinting across two front lawns toward the church parking lot.

The boys chase her for a block, then give up.

Lilith Eve Robinson is a freak, but she is a fast freak. No one in school can catch her.

Gabriel Compound, Longboat Key, Florida

The Sikorsky Surveillance-3000 UAV (Unmanned Aero Vehicle) slows to hover twenty feet above the beach, its shadow dancing along the wet sand. Three feet in diameter, the donut-shaped flying saucer houses a series of short blades in its center hole that rotate horizontally like a helicopter’s rotors. Designed for low-speed surveillance, the SS-3000 is powered by fuel cells and can fly up to seventeen hours on a single charge.

Sealed within the UAV’s aluminum frame are three cameras, providing the viewer 360 degrees of video coverage.

Its aft camera focuses on two subjects jogging along the shoreline.

Jacob Gabriel steals a quick glance at the drone as his legs plow through the relentless surf. Jogging in ankle to knee-deep water is exhausting work, especially when breathing through a scuba mouthpiece, part of his combat swimmer’s training. The cadence of the incoming waves is erratic today, forcing the boy out of his pace. Lactic acid burns in his muscles, weighing his lithe form down.

It is the lactic acid that Jacob seeks. Tolerance of the oxygen-depriving chemical must be raised if he has any hope of survival on Xibalba. He looks up again at the drone, focusing his eyes upon its digital timer.

19:07 … 19:08 … 19:09 …

Another eleven minutes. Push it …

The white-haired twin turns to his left. Manny is jogging in the wet sand, exhausted and red-faced but still keeping pace. Jacob bears down, increasing his speed.

Immanuel sees his brother pull ahead. His feet are aching, his calves in knots, but pride, long wounded by his brother’s accomplishments, refuses to allow him to quit.

Wheezing the salty air into the back of his parched throat, he digs deeper, matching Jacob’s pace.

The UAV images are beamed a half mile away to a closed-circuit flat-screen digital television monitor in Dominique’s oak-paneled family room. Seated on an olive green wraparound leather sofa, watching the scene, are Rabbi Steinberg and his wife, Mindy.

Dominique enters from the kitchen. She hands them each a glass of peach iced tea, its contents laced with the latest bioelixir designed to lower blood pressure and cholesterol, then sits back in her recliner.

Registering her presence, the recliner’s electromagnets instantly activate, the pulsating field invigorating the tight muscles in her back and neck.

‘Look at them,’ she says, pointing to the screen. ‘Jacob always pushing, Manny always lagging behind. I worry about him. I really have to push him to work out more in the Dojo.’

The rabbi shakes his head. ‘I don’t understand? What are you training these kids for? The Olympics?’

‘I don’t expect you to understand,’ Dominique says. ‘What God has planned for these boys requires preparation.’