Killian McRae - 12.21.12

by Killian McRae

Copyright 2010 by Killian McRae

All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976,

no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted

in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system,

without prior written permission of the publisher.

Omnific Publishing

P.O. Box 793871 , Dallas , TX 75379

www.omnificpublishing.com

First Omnific ebook edition, November 2010

First Omnific trade paperback edition, November 2010

The characters and events in this book are fictitious.

Any similarity to real persons, living or dead,

is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

McRae, Killian.

12.21.12/Killian McRae 1st ed.

ISBN 978-1-936305-53-7 1-936305-53-4(print)

ISBN 978-1-936305-54-4 1-936305-54-2(e-book)

1. Egyptian Fiction. 2. Mayan - Fiction. 3. Cleopatra - Fiction.

4. End of the World- Fiction. I. 12.21.12 5. Supernatural - Fiction

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Book Design by Coreen Montagna

DISCLAIMER

The author would like to advise readers that, while many of the
historical elements of this book are factual, some measure of
artistic liberty has been taken with some minor details.

To Mary Ellen, who serves as a model of how much one person,
when acting with compassion, determination and faith,
can benefit the lives of many.

07.01.09

Prologue

The damned sand got everywhere. In her shoes, in her hair, in her mouth.

Even in herWell, even in her you-know-what.

Christine Smyth despised Egypt . She hated heat. She hated the desert. She hated nargeelas and kebabs and overcrowded Cairo city buses.

But she especially hated sand.

Hey, Chrissie. Everything okay down there?

But above all that, she loved Sheppard.

Christine craned her head back and looked up through the almost blinding portal of light. Sheps head was silhouetted against the late morning sun radiating unyielding rays from above. It almost looked like a halo, she thought, like he was a celestial being. Not that there was anything particularly divine about her husband of two years. He was a kind and compassionate soul, of course, and he loved her with an intensity she never could have dreamed of, but he was not without vices.

One particular vice, the one, in fact, that was the reason she was currently sitting in an excavated chamber in July in the Sahara, attempting to decipher two-thousand-year-old hieroglyphs, was Sheps sense of dogged determinationsome might have used the word stubbornnessto prove his theory right. Never mind that his whole historic apostasy was based on one tiny fragment of papyrus. It had been found shoved into the leaves of a Coptic Bible in the back of an Ethiopian church. It was nothing of great import, just the records of visits paid by visiting luminaries and guests to one of the minor rulers of the area around the year 30 BCE. This specific entry had recorded the arrival of three children, two boys and a girl, and their female guardian. They were seeking asylum after, the entry claimed, the Pharaoh, their mother, was killed for daring to war against Rome .

The researcher who made the discovery hadnt thought much of it. A quick internet search had pointed him to Sheppard Smyths profile on the Harvard website, where he had waxed poetical for his love and professional dedication to Cleopatra VII. He sent Shep an email with a picture, and Shep flew to Addis Ababa the very next morning to verify and retrieve it. After running the necessary test to confirm its age, Shep put forth his theory to the world, the one that would assure his place in history along with the greats of his field. He had no doubt of the childrens identity. No doubt, given the nature of the glyphs, the identity of the Pharaoh in question. He had no doubt in his hypotheses. The forces of history had somehow managed to pull off the greatest cover-up of all time: the murder of Cleopatra.

His colleagues had laughed him out of the professional community. Since, Shep had been hell-bent on finding proof. He knew it was true, deep down in his gut. It was almostinstinctive.

Which was why Christine was currently staring at some of the last hieroglyphs ever etched by the ancient Egyptian scribes. Shep believed it, and she believed in him. Besides, she reminded herself, it was Sheps supposed fools errand that had brought them together.

Christine looked down at her etchings on the crinkly sketch paper. She had traced out all the lines of the carvings in front of her, but hadnt added to them the hint of color still visible in this particular relief. There were missing sections in the stonework, sections that made deciphering the words difficult. Shep was more versed in the ancient tongues than she, and she was sure he wouldnt have such a hard time later. Be as easy as reading the New York Times for him. There were a few characters in particular with which she was unfamiliar, ones she couldnt remember having seen before.

Um, Ive got the basics, but I left my pastels in the Jeep, she called up to Shep. Would you Her eyes focused enough to catch Sheps smile.

Of course, Ill go get them. Its my job, right? To bring color to your life?

Yeah, and some water wouldnt hurt! she shouted back as his head disappeared beyond the edge of the hole. She heard his voice trail off in response, but couldnt quite make out the words.

She leaned back and closed her eyes. For a moment, the breeze above blew at just enough of a downward draft to swirl about in the chamber. Her sense of relief as it caressed her face was short lived; in her relaxed posture she had neglected to hold down the sheaths of paper on her lap. The breeze spread them about the chamber like a child blowing on a dandelion.

God damn it! she exclaimed as she leapt off her stool to catch them. Not that they could really go anywhere. Still, she was determined not to have to crawl around in that sand any longer than necessary.

Swatting down her hand, she stopped several sheets from swirling. The top page had been flexing in the breeze, and she cursed aloud when she saw how it now bore a crease down the middle.

And right down the confusing glyphs, bisecting them.

Christine could hardly believe her eyes. She hadnt been able to decipher the glyphs because they were written both forward and backward, one the mirror image of the other, making it difficult to recognize them for what they were.

They were, in fact, Sheps proof.

***

Above, Shep heard Christine scream his name as he rummaged through the supply bag in the back of the Jeep, and he ran. It wasnt that far of a distance, maybe two hundred meters, but it seemed so far as she shrieked louder and louder. She was saying more than just his name, however. As he got closer, he was starting to make out her repeated phrase.

Beside us! he thought he heard her scream. Shep, its beside us!

Hold on, Chrissie. Im almost there! Im c

Shaking unlike anything hed ever felt threw him to the ground. It vibrated his whole person; even his insides seemed to be trembling.

With unbelieving eyes, Shep watched as the entry to the chamber began to loosen around the edges. The cave-in took only seconds. The earthquake wasnt intenselater he would learn it was a mere 5.9but it was enough to crumble the ancient earthen walls, now dried out and weakened from exposure.

It took two days to dig out Christines body.

12.15.12

Chapter 1

With a sigh, he threw the greenbacks and one more meaningless night down on the bar.

His cash was gone. He wasnt sure if he was still in possession of his keys. He could only vaguely remember where hed parked the car when hed gone for just a drink or two several hours before.