The Bar Code Prophecy (13 page)

“What do we do now?” Kayla asked. The Decode group, along with members of the Drakians, were assembled back at the Decode cave headquarters in the Great Basin Desert. There was murmured conversation, but no one offered a plan.

Grace sat beside Eric, Eutonah, and Chief Russell, watching the group. Eutonah rose to speak and everyone grew silent. “We must get the word out. That is our most important mission as I see it right now. We must all consider ourselves Postmen and go out to spread the word. Right now we have only each other.”

“I agree.” Everyone turned to see David Young striding into the cave along with his father, Ambrose Young. “We have to organize shelters worldwide.”

“What’s going to happen exactly?” Kayla called out.

“We’re not sure, but we believe Chief Russell Chaca,” Ambrose Young said. “In twelve days something dramatic will occur; something potentially devastating to our planet. Global-1, which controls not only our government but the governments of many nations with its financial dominance, has made it clear that it will not be utilizing any resources to assist. It is up to us.”

“Face it! It’s the end of the world!” a woman from the crowd shouted, inspiring another wave of anguished murmuring.

David Young held his arms up to quiet the crowd. “If it is, in fact, the end of the world, let us go out helping one another.”

“How do you want us to start doing that?” Mfumbe asked as he climbed onto a flat rock. “Should we organize into task groups?”

David Young agreed that Mfumbe should divide them into groups, some to create leaflets on handmade presses, others to solicit donations for supplies. Anyone with medical expertise was to form a group, and Postmen would set off chains of oral communications that would hopefully spread like wildfire among communities and eventually travel worldwide. A squadron of hackers would also work at breaking Global-1’s hold on the media.

When David Young noticed Grace standing there, he smiled at her. “What happens if this doesn’t work?” she asked him.

“At least we’ll all be too busy to worry,” the Decode leader said with a smile. “I’d rather go out trying than sitting around shivering with fear.”

That made sense to Grace, scared as she was. Eric put his arm around her. “If this is the end, then we’ll meet it together, Grace,” he said.

Letting herself melt into his arms, Grace raised her face as he kissed her. She held him tightly and his warmth melted — at least for the moment — the icy shards of fear forming inside her.

The group fell asleep late that night, sprawling anywhere they could find a spot to throw down blankets or a sleeping bag. Grace slept deeply, exhausted from her return ride from Arizona on the back of the motorcycle and all the events that had come before.

She dreamed of the dances and chants she’d witnessed at the Tribal Council they’d attended, where Eutonah and Chief Russell had presented the other half of the tablet to the assembled shamans and elders. The discovery engendered huge excitement. The elders agreed with Chief Russell’s interpretation of the pictograph. Whatever was going to happen, it had to do with technology and it would happen very soon.

The red clay tones of the earth against the vivid yellow of the sky colored Grace’s dreams. The impassioned songs of the tribal elders still played in her sleeping mind. Waking, she remembered how the tribes had called upon the Great Spirit to drive Global-1 from their lands since it was Global-1 that was pulling the precious mineral ore and underground waters from the sacred lands.

Then Grace fell asleep once more and dreamed of a giant, many-colored, fire-breathing bird diving into the ocean at tremendous speed. She awoke with a jolt.

This time she heard the crackle of a burning campfire. Kayla, Mfumbe, Allyson, Katie, Eric, and Jack stood by it, streaked with war paint. Grace sat up, alarmed. What were they doing?

And then she saw for herself. They were painting a mural on the cave walls and they were simply splashed with the paints they’d been using. Kayla saw that Grace was watching and smiled. “If this is the end of the world, we want to leave something behind,” she explained. “Maybe someday someone will come back and wonder what happened to us.”

“It’s like the cave people left their drawings behind for us so many thousands of years ago,” Mfumbe added.

They had already made a lot of progress and the mural was nearly fifteen feet long and almost ten feet high. It showed the GlobalHelix building with its spiral DNA roof sculpture. There was a section showing bar-coded wrists on weeping people. An outline of a six-foot human figure had its circulatory system mapped out in red. The molecule-sized nanobots dotted the red lines and sent jagged lines up to satellites drawn in the sky. More lines showed signals being sent back to GlobalHelix.

Eric sat down beside Grace, still holding his paintbrush. “It reminds me of the prophecy tablet,” he remarked.

“It does,” Grace agreed.

Eric took her hand, and together they went over to the part of the mural that Allyson and Jack were working on. It was a vivid blue sky with a dozen swing-los in the air. “Have you built twelve of them already?” Grace asked.

“Almost,” Jack said. “When you have the right equipment, they’re not that hard to put together.”

“Plus, we have room out here to work and lots of people to help us,” Allyson added as she painted in an ocher-colored line on a tabletop mesa just below one of the crafts.

David Young approached them, taking in the mural. “Wonderful,” he praised the work. “I heard you say you had twelve made?” he checked with Jack. “How fast can you make more?”

“How much money have you got?” Jack countered.

“A
lot
of money,” David Young replied.

“Then I can make a lot of swing-los,” Jack confirmed with confidence.

“And is the cloaking device working?” David Young asked.

“Like a dream,” Jack assured him.

“Wait a minute. There’s something I don’t understand,” Allyson cut in. “If we’re facing imminent disaster, why are you so eager to rush production along? It’s sort of an inopportune moment to be going into business, isn’t it?”

David Young sighed and a sad smile formed on his lips. “When I decided to fund you guys, I was never really concerned with making money. I already have money.”

“Then why did you do it?” Allyson asked.

David Young shrugged. “Maybe it won’t be the end of the world. Who knows? Maybe we’re all just panicked for nothing.”

“But you said you didn’t care about the money?” Grace reminded him.

“I’m a strange guy, I guess. I just like to see good ideas succeed. And I’m not one hundred percent sure this is the end. Maybe nothing at all will happen just like nothing has come of any of these end-of-times predictions in the past.”

“Oh, something is about to happen, all right,” Dr. Harriman said, joining them. He had been spending most of his time on his own, in a makeshift laboratory — but he still wouldn’t say what he was doing. “I’m not a superstitious man and I don’t believe in prophecy or prediction. The mystical mechanisms of otherworldly communications are beyond my understanding. But I am in communication with a vast network of scientists who work covertly so as not to have their findings co-opted by Global-1. Among these colleagues are astrologists and astrophysicists.”

“What do they tell you?” David Young asked.

“This solar flare activity is unprecedented. It is already disrupting radio signals worldwide. If it gets any more active, it has the potential to knock satellites out of the sky with the intense heat or jam their ability to receive or send signals.”

Mfumbe stopped working on his part of the mural. “Does that affect the space stations?”

“It could,” Dr. Harriman replied.

“What about the meteor?” Grace asked.

Dr. Harriman’s eyes traveled across the group and Grace sensed his reluctance to tell them what he had to say. Everyone felt it and stopped what they were doing to pay attention. “If any of those disabled space stations get in the path of the meteor, they could dramatically shift its trajectory.”

“And send it toward Earth?” Mfumbe asked.

“And send it toward Earth,” Dr. Harriman echoed somberly.

Grace’s breath caught in her chest. She knew that a meteor hit was what had wiped out the dinosaurs. Was it possible that these were really their last days on Earth? Closing her eyes, she felt the ground beneath her spin and she staggered, feeling faint.

Eric caught her arm. “Steady,” he urged softly.

Breathing deeply, Grace willed herself to be strong. “I’m all right,” she told Eric as she bent forward to bring blood circulation back into her head. As she hung there, hot tears brimmed her eyes and she realized how much she loved being alive. The idea that very soon she might no longer live — that none of them would — was more than she could cope with.

The Bar Code Prophecy had to be wrong. It
had
to be.

But a line from the prophecy played and re-played in her mind.
The heavenly bodies will be pulled from the skies.
Was that what Global-1 had done? By taking the precious resources from the Earth, had they upset the balance of the universe so that this meteor would be pulled from the skies?

It certainly fit.

Grace wanted her family, but they weren’t here. Instead, she looked around at this strange new family she’d found.

And she thought,
What are we going to do?

“Why isn’t this all over the news?” Kayla fretted several days later as she, Mfumbe, Eric, and Grace stood at the mouth of the cave with several other Decode members looking out. It seemed to Grace that the sky had grown much more yellow and that the heat had become nearly unbearable.

“Even if we don’t care about being tracked, we can’t get a phone to work,” Kayla went on in an agitated tone. “Are we supposed to just wait here for this meteor to blast us to bits?”

Mfumbe put his arm around her shoulders but said nothing. His serious expression radiated the tension they all felt. “Maybe a Postman will come with news,” Mfumbe suggested.

“Grace and I are Postmen. I think we should go see what we can find,” Eric offered.

Dr. Harriman joined them from inside the cave. “I may have an easier way.”

Grace turned along with the others and saw that he held a disc in the palm of his hand. “Grace, this is the invention that has caused you so much trouble,” Dr. Harriman revealed. “It’s the thing I won’t give Global-1, the thing that they want so desperately. I’ve only now finished it. But I think it might just work.”

“What is it?” Grace asked him.

“It’s a messaging device that bypasses the satellites,” Dr. Harriman replied. “It can be bounced off any metal that’s floating in space — any meteor, any planet or asteroid.”

“But no one can own those things,” Kayla said.

“Oh, the countries and companies are trying, but so far, no. They can’t. It’s free communication for the planet with no one monitoring it.”

“I can see why Global-1 wouldn’t want that to get out,” Mfumbe remarked.

“It would be far too empowering to humankind,” Dr. Harriman concurred. “But we can use it right now to see what’s going on out in the world.” Sweeping his fingertips across the screen made the device light up. Several taps brought a picture to the screen. “Jonathan! It works!” a man on the screen said. “Good to see you. Is Grace with you?”

“Dad!” Grace cried out, recognizing the voice immediately. “I’m here!” She stood beside Dr. Harriman, looking at her dad, Albert Morrow, on the screen. “Is everyone all right?”

“We’re fine, Grace. We were so worried until Jonathan got in touch and told us you were okay,” her father replied.

“What do you hear?” Dr. Harriman asked. “We have a news blackout here.”

“So do we. Global-1 isn’t letting any news through. They’re claiming that solar flares have created havoc on all their systems. They probably just want to run for cover before anyone else can.”

“Cover from what?” Grace asked.

“The rumors are that the solar flares have knocked out all the controls of the International Space Station and that it drifted and collided with the meteor. Both are headed for Earth’s atmosphere as we speak.”

“Does anyone know where they might be expected to land?” Dr. Harriman asked.

“Right now they’re saying they’re going to hit in the Pacific, somewhere near the California/Mexico border.”

“How close to land?” Dr. Harriman inquired.

“No one knows.”

“How soon?” Dr. Harriman asked.

“They’re basing their calculations loosely on Skylab, which fell to Earth in 1979,” Albert Morrow explained. “There were nine days between the time the space station hit the atmosphere and when it struck the Earth. But that’s just an educated guess. There’s a lot more tonnage coming down on us this time.”

“Hmm,” Dr. Harriman mused. “My colleagues at NORAD estimated the meteor to be twenty million tons and traveling at a speed of twenty-three thousand miles an hour. I have no information on how heavy the current space station is or how much of it will actually hit us. But I can tell you this: Even if some of the space station rips apart and the meteor splits in the atmosphere upon entry, we’re still looking at an impact equivalent to many atomic bombs.”

The low hum of conversation that had arisen suddenly quieted. Everyone had caught the last statement and was stunned by it. David Young and Ambrose Young had come in, and they appeared as shocked as the rest of them.

“We’re looking at nine days?” David Young checked.

“I don’t think we have that much time,” Dr. Harriman said. “We have two huge objects hurtling toward us. Even if the space station burns up completely and the meteor cracks in half and one whole half fragment …”

“Even then?” Ambrose Young questioned.

“I’m afraid so,” Dr. Harriman confirmed. “I’m estimating it will reach our atmosphere in another two days and then it will be another two days from the time it reaches our atmosphere to the time it hits us.”

Grace’s skin went icy with terror and a nausea began to swirl in her belly. This was it then. No one would escape this.

In a mere four days — maybe a day more, maybe a day less — they would all die.

Grace turned toward Dr. Harriman’s device as her father’s voice came on. “Jonathan. Can I speak to Grace a moment?”

Dr. Harriman handed Grace his device and Grace peered down at her serious-faced father on the screen. “Grace, you know how much we all love you,” he began. “I wish we could be together right now. This isn’t what we planned.”

“I know, Dad,” Grace answered as tears welled in her eyes. “I love you, too. I’ll be all right. I have good friends here.” Tearfully, Grace spoke to her mother, James, and Kim.

“Grace,” her mother signed off by kissing her fingers and touching them to the screen. Grace did the same as the screen went dark. The idea that she would never see any of them again caused a deep pain in the pit of her stomach. Her mind wouldn’t accept it, as much as she knew she should face the facts.

“Okay, everybody,” David Young spoke in a no-nonsense tone. “I was just out with Jack and Allyson. Let’s get out and tell everyone what we just now heard. Anyone who’s brave enough to try a swing-lo, go out there now and get a flying lesson if you need one. Anyone with Postman experience, please go first.”

“Why even bother?” Allyson asked in a despairing tone.

“Because there’s a chance,” David Young answered.

“Is there, Dr. Harriman?” Allyson asked. “Is there any chance at all?”

“There’s always a chance things will not happen as predicted. Right now we don’t have all the information,” Dr. Harriman answered. “The armed forces might be working on something, a way to move the meteor and the space station out into the ocean. They might be firing nukes at it to blow it apart, though I don’t want to think about the kind of nuclear winter that will cause. All these factors make the outcome uncertain.”

“So there’s a chance we might survive,” Kayla surmised.

“There’s always a chance,” Dr. Harriman repeated.

“I say let’s get out to the swing-los,” Jack said. “We might as well go out fighting.”

A murmur of agreement swept through the group and they began to head toward the front of the cave. Eric came alongside Grace and put his arm around her. “What do you think?” he asked.

“There’s no sense just sitting and waiting for the end,” she said.

Eric smiled at Grace as she wiped her eyes. “Let’s do this together,” he suggested. “Hopefully we won’t have to parachute out this time.”

“I think I should drive on my own,” Grace countered. “There aren’t that many people who’ve even been in one before. At least I have that much experience.” Grace wasn’t sure she could do it and was frightened, but another part of her was thrilled at the idea of trying.

Grace adjusted the brim of her cap so that it sat above her dark sunglasses. The soaked washcloth she’d wrapped around her neck was drying quickly in the blistering sun, and she hoped she’d have a chance to wet it again before flying her swing-lo across the desert.

Seeing her family again had made her long to be with them. But hearing their tender words had lifted a weight from her heart. At least she knew where they were and they had said their good-byes, if that’s what it would come to.

The swing-los were parked in a line of twelve outside a wooden lean-to Allyson and Jack had been using as a workshop. With the sun reflecting off their sides, the crafts appeared sleeker and more state-of-the art than ever before.

Katie’s tractor trailer was parked nearby. She stood in back with the doors open. Behind her were stacks of boxes filled with emergency supplies: water, food, first-aid kits.

“Ordinarily each swing-lo can carry two people, but today we’re using only one pilot to each vehicle so that you can load the passenger seat with these supplies,” Allyson told the group of pilots that she and Jack had selected and given a quick training session. Grace joined the others in loading her craft with the boxes.

“Do we have cloaking technology on these now?” Eric asked.

“It’s installed but because of these solar flares I can’t get it to work,” Jack replied.

Grace’s swing-lo was parked beside the one Eric intended to fly. “Do you think what we’re doing will make any difference?” Grace asked skeptically.

Eric continued to stack his boxes as he spoke. “The space station will break up when it hits the atmosphere and will probably crash all around us in pieces. And, like Dr. Harriman said, the meteor might split apart, but still … when that hits …” He let his voice trail off ominously.

Grace shut her eyes and let her mind go blank. She didn’t want to envision — even in her imagination — the disasters his unspoken words implied. If the meteor hit the Pacific, then a large part of the ocean was going to end up crashing into the coasts. And that was the best-case scenario. Maybe the tidal wave would be contained by the various mountain ranges in its path but it would all depend on the force and size of the tsunami.

“Do you think the armed forces will come out? Can the navy do anything?” Grace asked.

“Who knows?” Eric answered, coming around beside her. He held her in his arms and she laid her head on his chest. His heart pounded and he tightened his grip in a way she found reassuring. “Grace, I’m glad we’re going to be together, whatever happens. You’ve come to mean so much to me.”

Grace looked up at him. “I feel the same.”

He smiled at her and brushed away a piece of hair that had fallen into her face. “I love you, Grace.”

His words brought emotional tears to her eyes, a mix of happiness and something else. She couldn’t name the something else. Maybe it was being overwhelmed by feelings — to have found something so precious as his love and to know that there would be no real time for them to be together — it was so confusing.

“I love you, too, Eric,” Grace said, knowing it was so. They leaned toward each other and kissed. For a moment, the world went away. There was no Global-1, no prophecy, no tidal wave crashing toward them. For a moment Grace let herself imagine that this was happening in her backyard as she had hoped it would not so very long ago.

When the kiss was done, they slowly parted, still looking at each other. “We’d better get going,” Eric said, finally. “Are you going to be all right flying that thing?”

“Of course,” Grace replied, wishing that the confidence in her tone was sincere and not the false bravado that it really was. She hoped she could remember Jack’s quick instructions, which, at the moment, she recalled as only a blur of words.

Pushing these worries aside, Grace climbed into the pilot’s seat of the cockpit. The new, improved swing-lo had a streamlined dashboard that rose with three-dimensional holographic controls when she waved her hand across its rectangular screen. Its steering mechanism was gone, replaced with finger-touch technology. Its engine purred to life when she activated the controls as Jack had showed her, and the craft elevated smoothly to about three feet above the ground.

Grace stole a glance at Eric, who hovered beside her. He smiled and shot her a thumbs-up. “Final level, huh!” he remarked.

Grinning, she nodded.

“All right, everyone,” Allyson spoke loudly to the group. “Remember not to take these too high. The last model cracked up at a thousand feet. We’re pretty sure they can now climb to about thirteen hundred feet, but we’re not positive. At no higher than eight hundred feet, any of these buttes and mesas should be possible landing platforms if you don’t want to come all the way down. Good luck and remember to meet us at Monument Valley by the formation called The Thumb when you’re done. We’re going to meet with the tribal elders there. At least we’ll all see this through together.”

Grace slid her finger up the side of the orange holographic bar and the craft rose ten feet in the air. Immediately her swing-lo tilted so far to the right that Grace gripped its sides. The auto-correct kicked in, placing her back into a horizontal equilibrium.

“Don’t worry, you’re doing better than most,” Eric said as he hovered at her side. Gazing in the direction he was pointing, she saw that the other ten pilots were having an initial rough start, some spinning in circles, others jerking abruptly up and down, still others lurching forward and back.

Eric whizzed off to help other struggling new pilots while Grace practiced flying at three feet around the desert floor. Before long she felt a new confidence and rose two feet higher and flew faster. Soon she was ready to elevate even higher.

Smiling with the pleasure of near-mastery, Grace maneuvered the swing-lo in a swirling, pretzel-like pattern, dipping around and under in arching curves. Pressing down on the purple bar of the holographic accelerator, she sped out away from the group into the desert, traveling at fifteen feet above the ground. She set the navigator toward Sedona, Arizona. She would stop along the way and offer one of her supply boxes, telling the people what she knew, inviting them to join the others in Monument Valley at The Thumb. The higher ground they could make, the better.

As Grace flew, she was filled with a joyful, almost desperate exhilaration. If these were going to be the last hours of her life, then she could think of no better way of spending them than flying free as a bird on the most exciting adventure of her life.