Taboo Descendants and the Multi-Dimensional War

My son. It was as if I could feel him near me. My Jarrice Lamont Jerito. My sweet JJ.

He’s here and he’s afraid, I observed.

I wanted to shout for him, but I could feel that he was too far away to hear me. I wanted to let him know that we were there to save him, but I could not risk blowing our cover.

The first objective of the mission was to gain leverage through the element of surprise. It was a nice perk to be accompanied by some of the stealthiest beings in two universes and we had at our disposal some of the most advanced technology available in any universe. I was told that beyond the fifth dimension of intelligence and spiritual growth, technology was no longer needed. Everything was accomplished with the mind.

We had flown in low and hot. It only took about fifteen minutes for Qego Mouyo to glide over the Mexican countryside to Mitla. We were only ten to twenty feet off of the ground during our entire descent from the Sierra Madres. I felt remorse for anyone who witnessed our dark cylindrical vessel streak silently over their heads in the waning minutes of twilight.

They would need therapy.

What we needed was electronic cover from radar more than visual camouflage, and according to Tala, we could not have both effectively. She stated that there were many physical limitations to existing in the third dimension.

Tala also explained that the autopilot was capable of flying using real-time topographic data collected by the Tepon drones that flew above and ahead of the main vessel. Of course, Tepon technology was far beyond Earth’s, but the intent of the drone-collected geographic data was the same. Know what is there, find what you need, and avoid those who seek to destroy you.

I had watched via the drone camera feed off the bow of the vessel, with a somewhat uneasy stomach. Qego Mouyo zipped over a couple of small towns and a handful of villages along the way at speeds I could only imagine in my previous life. Most of the land surrounding the settlements was barren agricultural fields. It was winter after all.

I wondered if any of the inhabitants of these less populated areas knew what was happening in near-by Mitla.

Are they praying for a miracle to end the slaughter of innocent people in the cover of darkness?

The Mexican government had already issued strict curfews due to the deaths in nearby Oaxaca City. Most locals were too afraid to leave their houses at night, but the tourist were different. They had gathered at Mitla to witness an ancient summoning ritual.

Can we answer their prayers?

We were not gods, not truly, and Ary and I least of all. We were armed to the teeth though. Sbapoid’s quarters had been overflowing with state of the art weaponry. Even though he had spells, potions, and curses to work with, he was not beyond using a gun. We had had our choice of laser canons, plasma swords, and gamma arrows (complete with anti-radiation gloves for handling).

I had settled on a simple hand gun, similar to a revolver, which shot frozen, poison darts. Since the points melted upon contact with the blood, the poison could not be extracted. Sbapoid ensured me that the poison could stop an animal ten times the size of an average human, though it would not kill them. I was not ready to become a cold-blooded murder just yet.

Ary, too, had trepidations about killing another living creature. She was no vegan, but she was not a hunter either. Her weapon of choice was a heat-seeking blaster that could be loaded with any small projectiles. Sbapoid had provided her with the Earth-equivalent to rubber bullets. The gun, upon firing, coated the bullets with a dark, sticky substance that was highly attracted to warm-blooded creatures.

The coating itself was made of tiny, cold-blooded space bugs. The microscopic pests fed on warmth like mosquitoes, extracting it from its prey. As with my poison dart points, the goal of the bullets was to maim, not murder.

Once the body was too cool for the bugs to detect, the entire swarm disembarked the host. If they did not find a new, warm-blooded host quickly, they died. Sbapoid showered us all in special space-bug pheromones to wear as protection. If the nano-bugs encountered one of the Veex crew members, it perceived them as part of the swarm.

With our weapons in hand, we prepared to disembark the vessel. We hovered above the City of Mitla, known in ancient times as the ‘Place of the Dead’ in Nahuatl, an indigenous language of the area. In Zapotec, Mitla was known simply as the “Tomb”. It was the second most important ancient site in the state, particularly to the Zapotecs. As its name suggested, it was considered to be an ominous place.

We were able to land the vessel in Mitla without detection from the military on radar. My heart jumped into my throat when the giant, cigar-shaped vessel plopped to the ground with a soft thump. Dust scattered in our wake. The ups and downs of the decent from the mountains had left me quite queasy.

As soon as the bay door began to open, I heard the most awful sounds my ears had ever perceived. My nose filled with the odors of dirt and blood.

We had heard similar noises as the surveillance footage from the drone played, but it did not do this massacre justice. The screaming, shouting, wailing, and pleading were all too real now that we were here on the ground. Coupled with the smells of fresh wounds, it was all I could do not to run and hide.

Our landing site was located south of the place where JJ was being held. Less prominent than the sounds of battle, I could just make out the water from the Mitla River running just behind us. I closed my eyes and focused on the peaceful sound of the flowing water over violent deaths of humans at the hands of the Zux.

With my eyes still closed, I smelled a familiar scent of warm wood and spice. Commander Jules whispered in my ear, “Be safe, Chéri. And remember, I am willing to give my life protecting you and your son. I don’t want you to risk your own.”

When I opened my eyes, he was gone. My nose still tingled with his scent and my heart still fluttered at his words.

The Veex teams split up and went their separate ways as soon as the retraction of the bay door was complete. They disembarked the vessel one at a time with tactical speed in specifically timed phases. Ary and I moved closer to Sbapoid, Oluh, and Yzee. Nevaeh flew out of the bay opening after the last Veex exited.

As planned, Yzee took point in our group. We had all been given a map of the ‘Mitla Archaeological Zone’ which was displayed for the convenience of each person however they chose to see the information. We were all to review it once more before we left. We could not afford to get lost or separated.

Yzee wore no clothes, so their map was displayed on a virtual screen that projected from the jewel in the center of their chest. An excitedly anxious Oluh, covered in fur and metal bottoms resembling a Medieval chastity belt, used a holographic Braille display to ‘view’ his map. It rose from flexible metal wrist cuffs that he wore as part of his battle armor, complete with a helmet with two holes for his ears which were on top of his head. I watched as he ran his clawed paws over the computer-generated 3D image and nodded to himself.

Sbapoid’s map was on the inside of his space helmet which was no longer gold in color. I also noticed that his golden armor was not in its normal, shimmering state. It had taken on a rather earthly hue, much like the dirt the vessel was parked upon. Apparently, it adapted like a chameleon’s skin.

Nevaeh had carried with her a crystal spear which displayed the Mitla map and any other information she might need. The spear had three, sharp feather-shaped points on one end, but did not look as killer as Yzee’s double sided swords.

Yzee’s size alone made them a formidable opponent, but they carried a sword made of metal that held an extreme shine. I remembered what Jules had taught me about Amabala and concluded that this metal must be Nibradaman. Each end of the sword ended with a razor-sharp point primed for cutting.

Our crew was the last team left on the vessel and it was time to leave.

I leaned over to Ary and whispered, “Are you sure you want to come? You’ll be safer if you stay on the vessel.”

“They murdered the man that I loved, Kay,” she stated, her eyes brimming with tears. “I know that fighting won’t bring him back to me, but hurting one of those—monsters—will give me some satisfaction.”

“If you say so –”

“I know so.” Her voice was low, but her expression was stern.

“Okay, then. We’ll do this together.”

“Agreed.’

Yzee hit the metal floor with one end of his double-ended sword, sending sparks flying. Ary and I both looked up.

Yzee nodded to Sbapoid, grunted, then turned and walked away.

Sbapoid rested the weight of his upper body on his abdomen, as if to stand upright. Using his front two pairs of appendages, he signaled for us to follow him, then dropped to all eight legs and promptly scurried off behind Yzee. Oluh, soft, plush, and deadly, stayed at our side as we stepped off the vessel together.

As soon as our feet hit the ground, it began to shake. I grabbed Ary’s arm just as she reached out to me for stability. I felt a presence behind us just beyond the vessel, and it was not a good one.

“Run!” cried Yzee over his shoulder in his deep, scratchy voice. He could see the source of the presence from where he stood.

We ran with haste in the direction of the Mitla ruins, but the ground under our feet gave way. I collapsed to the ground face first. Again, I felt the angry presence, only this time it was closer.

I turned myself over and looked back at Qego Mouyo. She shown metallic in the remnants of twilight, her cloaking capabilities still disabled. As the ground shook, her thrusters engaged, keeping her stable and hovering just above the ground.

I looked beyond her and saw a dominant figure across the river. It looked like a man, only larger. There was a small group of ruins behind him. He must have been hidden there all along, waiting for us to leave the safety of the vessel. I was glad that he was so far away. He looked and felt dangerous, his heart filled with rage.

The man stretched his hands out away from his body, palms down. The ground underneath my back shook once again. I attempted stand, but I stumbled forward as the ground became more unstable. I stared at him in shock as I realized that he was the source of the earthquakes.

The ground underneath his feet grew upwards and towards us. He rose with it as as if riding an earthly wave.

He’s making a bridge! We have to get out of here!

As he got closer, I saw that he was as alluring as all the other Tepons. His skin tone was that of earthen clay, almost as brown as my own, but with a yellowish hue. He wore his thick, wavy hair in a long ponytail. It perched on his bare shoulder like a great raven, its tail cascading onto his barrel chest. He wore nothing but a single piece fabric that tied at his waist and fell to his knees. With his upper body covered in tribal tattoos, this Zux appeared as a perfected replica of the WWE Uso Brothers of the great Anoa’i wrestling family, a lineage of strong, American Samoan men.

Just as the Earth bridge was about to connect with land on our side of the river, the water began to rise. It rose and rose until it stood like a unmoving tsunami in between the Zux and land where we stood. The bridge could not be completed, and it was thanks to Alec who rose out of the river like a merman on a pillar of liquid. He was clearly there to stop the notorious ground-shaker, Fetu, a Zux I had seen only once before but never fought.

“I can handle this situation,” Alec called over his shoulder. “Go to your son, Kaya. Save him and save us all!”

With that, Alec lunged at Fetu. The battle of the Tepon scientists had begun. Fetu glided away from Alec on his mobile piece of earth, his barrel chest raised in defiance and frustration. Alec followed him, riding the river like a wave, shooting bits of water at the bottom of the Fetu’s earth-mound, breaking it apart under his feet. I turned my back on them when I felt fur bumping my shins.

“You heard the man,” barked Oluh, his voice sounding like fingernails on a chalkboard. “Get your rump in gear!”

We ran full speed towards the ‘Columns Group’ section of Mitla without another word. We passed through a stone arch and into an open court. The ground here was covered with a floor made of large, flat pieces of limestone, the equivalent to ancient concrete. As soon as our feet hit the slab, we smelled blood. Walking past the surrounding wall, our eye could not unsee the countless number dead bodies. They were everywhere.

It was like the scene of a gruesome film, a Quentin Tarantino level of gore. My mind could hardly process the carnage. On this night, Mitla was living up to its name as the ‘Back-door to Hell’ and the ‘Temple of the Devil’.

Surely, it had never been more true before this night.

As a medical professional and Good Samaritan, I really wanted to tend to the wounded. As an empath, however, I knew that there was nothing we could do to help them.

These bodies exuded no feelings, no emotions.

They died for similar reasons to the others in Miami before them, the Zux were having their way with humans. From the looks of the cadavers, however, the victims were not casualties of General Hayami. Some of the bodies were burned, others had crushed skulls. Large stones lay bloody nearby as evidence to the crimes they helped commit. Some of the victims had their limbs torn off, the ends of the appendages frayed and tattered. They had most likely died of shock or bled out.

If not for the strength gained by the prospect of saving JJ, I would not have taken another step forward.

It was clear that these Zux meant business and they were nasty and vile with its execution. It seemed they had an ax to grind with humanity, but I did not know why. I speculated that they, too, were dissatisfied with the mixing of Tepon genes with human beings. They would see us all destroyed to preserve the purity of their lineage.

As I continued to walk in between the lifeless bodies, I stopped beside the still body of a young woman. I imagined how her life had brought her to this tragic moment, this dramatically sudden end. She seemed to be an early college or late high school student.

She’s so young—not much older than my son.

She wore a black, crop-top t-shirt with white, slanted letters. The single word on the shirt read, ‘Lit’. As I understood it, the term was slang for ‘awesome’.

She had not picked a good day to wear an ‘awesome’ half-length shirt. Something had torn through her abdominal skin and muscles to pull out her entrails. I tried to concentrate on her face, rather than her injury. Her eyes were closed. She looked as if she could be dreaming peaceful dreams.

I teared up and thought, “She will live on in the after—”

Without warning, her eyelids twitched.