METEOR STORM Page 10

  “That I can do,” I said. What was running through my mind was not what John knew of the technology in the present day, but what he didn’t know remained of an even greater civilization from long, long ago in the cave in Tibet.

  “That’s all I ask,” John replied. “Let’s see what we can accomplish in the next eight weeks.”

  CHAPTER 12

  John established a website at www.meteorstorm.org with a countdown display and orchestrated several hundred members of the Survivalist Network using Twitter and Facebook to get the message out to the public. Media releases to the major networks and newspapers went unanswered. While the mainstream media ignored the story, hits on the website continued to spiral upward, breaching three million visitors within three days.

  Just as it was starting to get light outside, I was awakened by a knock on the door to my room. It was John. He invited me to an early morning walk in the woods. I got dressed and went down to the kitchen. John had coffee ready.

  “I received Trent’s report on the cave,” John said. “Do you think you can find it again?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “I mapped the entire route by GPS coordinates on my iPhone.”

  John gave me an annoyed look. “After the meteor storm there won’t be any GPS satellites,” he said. “How are you going to find it then?”

  I chuckled. It was an obvious question with a not so obvious answer. “GPS is an electronic version of a physical system of longitude, latitude and altitude,” I explained. “I don’t need the satellites to get back there: a sextant, a compass and a watch will work just as well.”

  John looked amazed. “And what about the altitude?” he asked.

  “First of all,” I replied, “the entire path is on solid ground, so altitude isn’t a necessary component. Even if it was, a thermometer and a pot of water would suffice.”

  “A thermometer…?”

  “And a pot of water,” I said. “Water boils at 212 degrees Fahrenheit at sea level. The higher you go, the lower the boiling point becomes from reduced atmospheric pressure. There’s a direct correlation.”

  “Aahhh,” John replied.

  Ed came down the stairs to join us. After Ed finished his cup of coffee, John stood up.

  “Shall we walk?” he asked.

  We walked about a half mile into the woods without conversation when John stopped in a small clearing.

  “First of all, let me apologize to both of you for the arrest and interrogation you went through upon your arrival back in Denver. Only a select handful of people even knew you were gone, let alone when you were returning.”

  “We have a mole,” Ed stated.

  “Yes,” John answered.

  “Who?” Ed asked.

  “I don’t know,” John replied. “I’ve done some preliminary investigation on my own, enough to clear both of you. Here is a list of the people who had access to the information about your trip to Tibet.”

  John showed us the list. As I scanned the names, my heart clinched. My brain felt fog closing in as I focused on the name.

  “Tia’s on the list. You think she could be the mole?” I asked. I searched John’s face for any clue as to his true feelings and thoughts.

  “I don’t think so,” John said, “but we have to look at everybody connected to this. Ed I want you to conduct the investigation, secretly, and Carl, I want you to keep your eyes and ears tuned in to see what you can find out. Remember, nothing obvious or suspicious, but we have to find out who is betraying us.”

  Ed took the list. “I’m on it,” he said.

  “What I don’t understand is why the FBI is so interested in us,” John said.

  “It’s not just the FBI,” I replied. “This is being driven by the DIA.”

  “The Defense intelligence Agency? You were involved with them?” Ed asked.

  “Involved is a deceptively simple word, but, yes,” I said, “General Strom is behind this.”

  “I know him,” Ed replied, “He’s a two star general. As a SEAL, I went on several missions for him. He’s some piece of work, that one. How do you know it’s him?”

  “He’s the one who pulled me out of prison and had me do some special programming work. He’s also the one who placed me at NASA.”

  “So this is personal?” John asked.

  “It certainly is to him. I told you these were horrible people, and he’s the worst of the bunch.”

  “Okay, that’s the DIA. Why is the FBI after us?” John asked.

  “General Strom’s son is an Assistant Director of the FBI. It’s family,” I explained.

  * * *

  That evening I sat quietly in my room holding the medallion in my hands. My mind drifted back to the conversations I had with the old priest on our way back from the cave. “Wear the medallion at all times,” he had said. “It will bless you with good health and a long life.” This had to be some kind of a cruel cosmic joke. I’m the last person on earth that deserves to be the guardian. It should go to someone who is gallant and heroic. Not someone who has been turned into a whore like me. My shame and the things I have done have to disqualify me from this position of guardian. Why had the old priest done this? Why had he chosen me as a guardian? He obviously had no idea of who or what I had become. How could he possibly think I was worthy of such a misplaced honor?

  As I studied the medallion I wondered if what the old priest said was just more superstition, or was there really something to it? I rubbed the surface of the medallion with my thumbs. The design was ornate and it was made from an alloy unfamiliar to me. It resembled the wooden mandala I saw in the Buddhist temple where we met the guardian. It didn’t seem to possess any magical powers, but it did open the rock door to the cave and it turned on the control power and NETCOMM, so there was something unusual about either its shape or the metal from which it was made. I picked up my ink pen and moved the metal clip close to the medallion. If it was magnetic, the clip would be attracted to the medallion. No signs of any magnetic field.

  I held the medallion in front of my heart and closed my eyes. Without any intention, I breathed in deeply and let the air out slowly. I definitely felt calmer, more focused. I tossed the medallion over onto the bed and tried the deep breathing again. I didn’t feel the deep calm or the focus I experienced with the medallion. I picked the medallion back up and held it in front of my heart again. The calm and the focus returned.

  “Interesting,” I said to myself.

  Images of the advanced machines and technology in the cave came back into my mind. The contents of the cave and the robot’s head in John’s basement were all that was left from the last meteor storm and the advanced civilization that existed at the time. What was going to survive this time? John certainly believed that he could make a difference in what survived, and I had to admit, his plan seemed realistic. Already millions of people were reading John’s website and leaving positive comments about the recommendations for survival of the cataclysm that was rapidly approaching.

  The gravity of the situation began to weigh on me. Whether I liked it or not, I was now the guardian of a long lost civilization and its advanced technology. If something happened to me, no one would even know it existed at all. The flip side of the issue was that the technology in the cave would have devastating consequences for humanity if it were to fall into the wrong hands, and from my past experiences with the justice system, prison, and the DIA, I had a pretty good idea who constituted the wrong hands.

  Now we knew there was a mole in John’s organization. What if the mole was also a thief intent on stealing access to the old technology too? The danger the mole presented came into clear focus. Not only could we lose all of our existing technology, but all of the old technology could end up in the hands of General Strom. That would double the disaster for humanity. I had left the medallion on my desk in my room while I worked in the basement. If the mole stole the medallion, the technology in the cave would eventually end up in the General’s hands. I couldn’t allow that to happen.
The guardian was right; the safest place for the medallion was around my neck. I placed the necklace over my head and tucked the medallion under my shirt. I decided I would always wear it, even in the shower. I didn’t know how old the medallion was, but I suspected it was as old as the robot’s head. Neither one had rusted or oxidized in the last 63,000 years, so I doubted I was going to do anything to damage it now.

  I began thinking back on all of the guardians that came before me. If a guardian served in this position for fifty years before passing the medallion on to the next guardian, that would result in twenty guardians per thousand years. Sixty-three thousand years would mean an unbroken chain of 1,260 guardians. That’s one hell of a tradition. If the medallion does bring good health and long life, it still doesn’t make you bulletproof. I could still be killed. There had to be more to the medallion than what I’d been told.

  CHAPTER 13

  “You up for another trip?” John asked.

  “Which mountain range did you have in mind?” I asked.

  John laughed. “The Ozarks, actually,” he replied.

  “That sounds rather tame after the Himalayas,” I said.

  “It will be. One day, out and back,” John said. I was learning that nothing was actually as simple as it sounded with John. He had a talent for putting you in the middle of a situation that would challenge what you had come to believe, and motivate you to rise above it.

  “So who all is going?” I asked.

  “You and Ed, Tia, if she wants to go.”

  “And what are we doing there?” I asked.

  “I have an inside source to a government-run underground city,” John said. “He’ll meet you there.”

  “An underground city?”

  “Yep, complete with an onsite power system, air purification and supplies for the next fifty years.”

  “Sounds interesting,” I replied. “Do you think they know what’s about to happen?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised, but I’m interested in your assessment of the situation. Limo leaves for the airport in thirty minutes.”

  I checked with Tia. She was up for the adventure.

  * * *

  After we landed, Ed secured a rental car for us and drove out into the countryside. We traveled for over two hours and pulled into a small café on a sparsely traveled section of road.

  “Here’s where we meet John’s inside guy,” Ed said. “Major Samuels is in the Army and has been a member of the Survivalist Network for about eight years.”

  As we entered the small café a black guy in civilian clothes stood up from a booth near the back and motioned us over. He had the standard military haircut and posture but looked around nervously as we approached. After handshakes and introductions, he got right down to business.

  “Something big is happening,” he said. “I am assigned to a detail that maintains security for an underground facility. Last week a three star General walked in and took command. This facility is supposed to be for VIPs in the event of a nuclear attack. The place has been vacant for as long as I have known about it. You know, the backup plan for a backup plan that never sees the light of day. Anyway, all of that changed last week. I could tell you more, but I think one good look is worth more than any amount of talk. You guys ready to go? “

  “You bet,” Ed responded.

  We traveled out into the hills for another half an hour, where Major Samuels pointed to a stand of large trees just off the side of the road.

  “We can leave the car here,” he said. “It won’t be seen from the air.”

  We hiked up into the hills for another hour. Major Samuels stopped and handed each of us a camouflaged heat reflecting space age blanket. “Wrap this around yourself camo side out. The inner surface reflects heat and will help you remain invisible to the infra-red security sensors across the valley.”

  He checked each of us to make sure everything was properly covered. We climbed up the hill in front of us. As we got near the top, Major Samuels had us lie down and crawl slowly to the edge.

  Below us a dirt road wove its way through the hills and disappeared into a tunnel surrounded by concrete walls. An MP with an M-16 rifle hanging from a sling stood on each side of the entrance, with a third MP directing traffic. The entrance would accommodate only one truck at a time. Five semi-trucks were waiting in line while three trucks pulled out of the tunnel. Once cleared, the MP waved for the waiting trucks to enter.

  “This has been going on for the last week,” Major Samuels said quietly. “Twenty-four hours a day. There are construction crews inside the facility repairing everything and bringing the facility up to current standards.”

  “The impression is that there are a lot of trucks going in and out of the tunnel,” I said. “There must be a lot of room inside there.”

  “There is,” Major Samuels replied. “It doesn’t look like much from the outside, but there are more than twenty-three miles of tunnels inside the facility. That includes residence areas, mess hall and commissary, hospital, meeting halls, library, recreation hall, exercise gym and a theater. Right now the trucks are loaded with equipment and construction supplies. Soon they will be bringing in food, medical supplies and fuel.”

  “Are there any cars inside?” Ed asked.

  “All electric,” Major Samuels said. “Hundreds of golf carts. The place even has its own traffic control system.”

  “What about security?” Ed asked.

  “Top level military grade security system,” Major Samuels replied. “This is the closest anyone can get without being spotted. The use of lethal force without warning is already authorized.”

  “In-ground sensors?” Ed asked.

  “Yes. Vibration, motion, infrared, everything.”

  “When do the VIPs arrive?” Tia asked.

  “The week before the meteor storm,” Major Samuels replied.

  “Do they know exactly when that will be?” Tia asked.

  “Yes, but information is compartmentalized. Everything is done under code words. The VIPs won’t know what the emergency is. They’ll just be given a code word, and they will be escorted to the facility. No advance warning will be given.”

  “So they fully intend on keeping the meteor storm secret from everyone,” I said. “They want to save lives, but only the lives that are important to them.”

  “That’s the deal,” Major Samuels replied. “The only people who get saved are a few scientists and people with great wealth and political connections. Everyone seen enough?”

  We had. On the car ride back to the café, Major Samuels continued his explanation, “The federal government had been buying up billions of rounds of ammunition. The Department of Health and Human Services has purchased ten million rounds alone. Now I gotta ask, what does Health and Human Services need with ten million rounds of ammunition?”

  “That does seem odd to me,” I replied.

  “The government is stockpiling ammunition. I believe they know there won’t be any ammunition manufacturers after the meteor storm, so they’re buying enough to wage a war against the people who survive. From what I’ve heard, the plan is to establish an empire and use captured people as slave labor to support the new rulers of the world.”

  “That sounds insane,” I said.

  “That’s because you don’t know what these people are already doing,” Ed said. Major Samuels agreed. “I’ve been on the inside of a number of covert operations, and I can tell you from direct experience that the thinking is just as the major describes. That’s the main reason I got out when I did, and why I’m working with John now.”

  “An empire?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Ed replied. “An empire that controls the entire world through full spectrum dominance, their term, not mine, and the meteor storm fits nicely into their plans.”

  “I can’t believe that,” Tia interjected.

  “Do you know why there was a nuclear arms race in the ‘50’s and ‘60’s followed by the Cold War?” Ed asked.

  “We
ll, not really,” Tia replied. “The whole thing didn’t make a lot of sense to me. Besides, that was before my time.”

  “That just seemed like a crazy time to me,” I added. “My grandfather thought Russia was going to bomb us any day. He even built a bomb shelter in his back yard. He was still talking about it in the ‘90’s when he died.”

  “There was a nuclear arms race because President Truman authorized a nuclear first strike against Russia following the surrender of Japan at the end of World War Two. The Russians developed their own nuclear weapons and delivery systems in order to prevent being annihilated. The whole contest ended with Mutually Assured Destruction.

  “I was excited when I joined the SEALs. But after dozens of covert missions I realized I wasn’t fighting to protect America: I was killing people so we could control the oil and the drugs and the puppet governments we were putting in place. I wasn’t fighting for freedom; I was fighting for a New Empire seeking to enslave the entire world. That’s why I left the military. I’m just thankful I found John. He restored my faith in people and helped me find a good purpose in my life.”

  “My experience isn’t that much different from Ed’s,” Major Samuels said. “I’ve come to almost the same conclusions and have experienced the promise John is bringing to the world. The meteor storm will create the same end result as all the nuclear weapons and high tech weapon systems we have been developing, just without the radiation.”

  “So they want the world to die?” I asked.

  “They want the other governments of the world to die so their world empire can be born,” Major Samuels replied. “And John’s Survivalist Network is one of the last impediments to reaching their goal of a world empire.”

  It all seemed so insane that we were having trouble grasping the idea as something real.

  “What about you?” I asked Major Samuels. “What are you going to do about the meteor storm?”