Oracle--Solar Wind Read online

  How to contact the author

  Website – www.trisefbook.com

  Email – [email protected]

  Oracle – Solar Wind

  C.W. Trisef

  Other titles by C.W. Trisef

  Oracle – Sunken Earth (Book 1 in the Oracle Series)

  Oracle – Fire Island (Book 2 in the Oracle Series)

  Oracle – River of Ore (Book 3 in the Oracle Series)

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination.

  Written by – C.W. Trisef

  Cover designed by – Giuseppe Lipari

  Copyright © 2014 Trisef Book LLC

  Book 4 – Edition 1

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 9781483523149

  CHAPTER 0

  REUNITED NATIONS

  “This is an outrage!”

  “A catastrophe!”

  “A calamity!”

  “An international crisis, to be sure!”

  “We’re all doomed!”

  “The planet is under attack!”

  “It’s aliens, I tell you—aliens!”

  “There’s no telling what’ll happen next!”

  “First, there was the mega-quake in the Atlantic—”

  “Magnitude 18.3—can you believe it?”

  “It’s the Bermuda Triangle—what do you expect?”

  “Our geologists say the sinkhole is still filling up.”

  “And we’re still finding bodies.”

  “Then came the volcanic explosion in the Pacific—”

  “Swallowed Easter Island whole.”

  “And I just vacationed there last year.”

  “I knew there was something strange about those giant statues.”

  “And now this!”

  “A river through the Sahara Desert!”

  “I didn’t believe it until I saw it.”

  “It’s draining the Mediterranean Sea!”

  “And all the earth’s oceans with it!”

  “This is the end of the world as we know it.”

  “Does anyone doubt global warming now?”

  “The Mayans were right!”

  A man stepped up to the podium, looking rather overwhelmed. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the man said cordially, but his voice could scarcely be heard over the din of the riotous crowd.

  He tried again: “Excuse me—please, please!” But the uproar continued without the slightest sign of letting up.

  Tired of being ignored, the otherwise polite man screwed up his face and yelled into the microphone, “Ladies and gentlemen, will you please be quiet!” He banged his white-knuckled fist on the podium, sending a loud booming noise through the sound system and dislodging a small glass globe that had been placed near the microphone for decoration. A hush fell over the tumultuous audience as every pair of eyes turned to watch the globe roll off the podium and then bounce three times on the marble floor. Its tempered glass did not shatter but cracked in a few places before it eventually came to rest.

  Now that he had everyone’s attention, the frazzled man took a deep breath, readjusted his necktie, and finally began his prepared remarks.

  “On behalf of the United Nations, I thank you all for coming to this emergency meeting of the General Assembly, convened this nineteenth day of April, at the United Nations General Assembly Hall in New York City. I believe representatives from all 193 member states are present to discuss the very important matters that are affecting our world.”

  “The citizens of Italy demand an explanation!” shouted the Italian delegation.

  “Our coastlines are devastated!” complained the Greeks.

  “And what about our farmland?” the Egyptians added. “The entire Nile delta is ruined!”

  “Coasts and farms can be replaced,” countered the consulate from Chile. “Easter Island is gone—disappeared overnight!”

  “Just like our economy!” the group from the Bahamas joined in. “Tourism to our islands has vanished ever since the mega-quake.”

  The man at the podium brought his hand to his face and rubbed his forehead in desperation. He had reminded them why they were all gathered together, which resumed the bickering. In all his years as Secretary-General, he had never witnessed so much energy in a meeting of the General Assembly. This nation was blaming that nation—this country taking sides with that country. A gathering that was supposed to be civil and diplomatic looked more like the scuffling you’d find in a schoolyard.

  “What do you expect us to do with this river that just barged across our borders?” the Libyans and Algerians wondered. “Our native tribes already don’t like us.”

  “The sea level keeps dropping every hour,” Spain and Morocco pointed out. “It’s only a matter of time before the Strait of Gibraltar becomes too shallow for ships to pass through—”

  “—and every port worldwide becomes inaccessible.”

  “What should we do?”

  “How do we pay for this?”

  “What do we tell our people?”

  “Who knows what Mother Nature will throw at us next?”

  “Why are these terrible things happening?”

  “The earth is seeking revenge for centuries of pollution!”

  “The time to go green is now!”

  “I’m telling you, it’s aliens!”

  “Mankind must flee to the moon!”

  “Who can save us now?”

  Suddenly, at the height of the panic, the double doors at the back of the room burst open. Everyone turned to see a man standing in the doorway. At his back was a brilliant light, outlining his strong physique but masking his identity in black silhouette.

  Alarmed by such a surprise entrance, the Secretary-General called for security.

  “Wait, sir!” the newcomer protested. “It’s me: Lionel Zarbock.”

  The Secretary-General thought for a moment and then, remembering, said, “Ah, yes: Dr. Zarbock, head of the International Atomic Energy Agency—isn’t that right?”

  “You are correct, sir,” Lionel replied respectfully, taking a few steps forward. “I have some very important information to report to the General Assembly, if I may—information that I believe each of you will find most vital to your meeting today.”

  Feeling relieved, the Secretary-General bowed and said, “The floor is yours, doctor.”

  Lionel commenced a slow walk towards the center of the room. It was a large hall, built for delivering speeches, with round walls that gradually tapered up toward a wide ceiling. At one end was a dais, the raised platform where the podium stood directly in front of a few chairs for the highest-ranking officials to sit. The rest of the room was filled with tables and chairs, all facing toward the front, enough to accommodate several hundred people. Mirrors lined the walls, and bright spotlights shined overhead.

  “Mr. President, Mr. Secretary-General, fellow delegates, ladies and gentlemen,” Lionel began in all professionalism, “these are perilous times—uncertain times, filled with headaches and heartaches, times that are bringing death and destruction to our very doorsteps.” He was standing well in front of the podium, not far from the first row of seats, preferring to use his loud and natural voice rather than the microphone.

  “Over the last several months, we have watched strange events rock our world,” he continued. “A so-called earthquake that swallowed part of the Atlantic Ocean and snuffed out hundreds of thousands of lives.” He motioned to the representatives from the Islands of the Bahamas, who accepted the condolences. “An entire island in the Pacific that erupted in lava and sank in waves, taking all of its people and history with it.” He no
dded at the Chilean table. “And, just days ago, a string of events more surreal than the others: the devastating collapse of an Egyptian pyramid, the reversal of the mighty Nile, the draining of the Mediterranean Sea, and the emergence of a Great River in the middle of the Sahara.” He made eye contact with every nation that had been affected by the recent events.

  “And now, here we are, gathered together to try and make sense of it all. You know, despite our differences, there is a common thread that unites us all today: we are all victims. We—you and I—are the victims of these heinous acts, committed by an unknown hand. Well, I’m here today to tell you that I know whose hands are responsible for these atrocities. They are not the work of Mother Nature—oh no. They are the result of the selfish actions of one man—a young man, in fact—named Ret Cooper.”

  Lionel had an absolutely captivating effect on the audience. Every single person—from the delegates to the clerks to the translators—was listening to Lionel’s every word, almost in an attitude of worship. The hall, which had hitherto been as clamorous as a zoo, was now as silent as a morgue.

  Yes, Lionel certainly knew how to work a crowd. Everything he had to say seemed to be everything his listeners wanted to hear. His words flowed like sweet music. With an age in the thirty-somethings, his dark hair and dark eyes combined to bestow upon him a radiant countenance not unlike lightning. Tall and strapping, he was a man with a commanding presence, and, for whatever reason, you wanted him to like you. All in all, he was a composite character in the prime of life.

  “And who is Ret Cooper, you ask?” Lionel pressed on, knowing he had everyone’s undivided attention. “Well, let me tell you. I know him quite well, actually. You see, we first met in a place called Sunken Earth.” Lionel took out his cell phone, synced it with the hall’s projector, and used it to display pictures from Sunken Earth on the large screens up on the walls. Each photo was greeted with “ooh” and “aww” as Lionel showed off his slideshow, solidifying the truth of his words.

  “Sunken Earth was the name of the city that once existed underneath the Atlantic Ocean. It was home to an advanced civilization, millions of innocent people, and—” he paused for dramatic emphasis “—the earth element.” The crowd replied with grunts of confusion. “Yes, the earth element—the source from which all dirt and soil and minerals on this planet come. It is a small thing that wields immense power. And Ret stole it—he took it right out of Sunken Earth. That earthquake—the one whose aftermath we all have to deal with now—was no earthquake at all. It was the collapse of an underwater civilization.”

  A hundred whispered conversations filled the air in response to Lionel’s revelatory words, sounding like a colony of hissing snakes.

  “But that was just the beginning,” Lionel resumed, killing the quiet conversations. “Ret moved onto the next element in his greedy quest for power: the element of fire.” Lionel walked as he talked. Beginning at the very first table, he looked directly into the eyes of the delegates from Afghanistan and smiled until he knew he had their trust, either out of faith or fear, which didn’t take long. Then he slowly grabbed the small replica of that country’s flag, which was positioned right next to the placard bearing that country’s name, and moved onto the next table, Albania. There, he followed much the same protocol, gaining their trust and then collecting their flag. Algeria, Andorra, Angola—one by one as he continued his narrative.

  “And I bet you can guess where the fire element was hiding,” Lionel said. “Why don’t you tell us, Chile?”

  “Easter Island!” a pair of indignant voices shouted back.

  “Indeed!” Lionel rejoined amid angry grumbles, which only intensified as photographs of the island’s demise flashed across the large screens. “But did Ret care? Did Ret show even the slightest ounce of concern for those nearly 900 moai statues that you and I came to adore? No.”

  More flags: Cambodia, Cameroon, Canada. One of the Canadian delegates was wearing a bowler hat. Lionel removed it from the man’s bald head and asked, “May I borrow this?” Intimidated by Lionel’s confident character and debonair demeanor, the Canadian obliged with a nervous nod of his head. “Don’t worry,” Lionel reassured him, “there’s nothing to be worried aboot.” The Canadians smiled to hear Lionel employ one of their colloquialisms, and their trepidation quickly turned to trust. With such ease, Lionel had won over the hearts of yet another delegation. He flipped over the hat and used it to hold his growing collection of flags.

  “And most recently, our dear friend, Ret Cooper,” said Lionel, moving to a new set of pictures, “had the wherewithal to launch a personal attack on the Egyptian pyramids—those iconic symbols of mystery and majesty.” The people from Egypt voiced their agreement. “He destroyed the Nile and the Sahara.” North African delegates sounded a rallying call. “And now every coastal nation is watching its shores recede ever farther—all for what? So that Ret Cooper could get his precious ore element?”

  Haiti. Honduras. Hungary.

  Each picture either showed what once was or what now is, reminding everyone of the destruction wrought by this dreadful person named Ret Cooper. With each image, Lionel poured salt into the delegates’ already-deep wounds.

  Philippines. Poland. Portugal.

  “Three elements down, only three more to go,” Lionel told them. “He already has the device to collect them, thanks to the Oracle in his pocket, and he will soon know where to find them, thanks to the scars on his hands. The question for us, my friends, is where will he strike next?”

  “Could it be you, perhaps?” he said, glaring into the eyes of the Russian representatives who, without hesitation, picked up the Russian flag and presented it to Lionel like a gift. “What destruction will he wreak next? How many more lives will he see fit to extinguish as he continues his rampage across our world?”

  “What must we do?” someone shouted.

  “He must be stopped,” came Lionel’s quick reply, “stopped at any and all costs. There’s no telling what might happen if he collects all six elements. He’d be more terrible than a thousand tyrants!”

  “How? How can we stop him?”

  “Send a battalion of UN peacekeeping forces.”

  “Our nation pledges ten-thousand troops.”

  “Capital punishment!”

  “We can supply a dozen drones.”

  “No, no,” Lionel rebutted, “it can’t be done that way. Enough blood has already been spilt.”

  “Then what do you suggest?”

  “Let me take care of it,” Lionel told them. “I know where the young man lives. I know where he goes to school. I know who his family and friends are. I know his strengths, his fears, his weaknesses. Grant me ready access to your resources, and I will promise to stop Ret Cooper before he collects the sixth element.”

  Singapore. Slovakia. Slovenia.

  “All in favor of pledging unto Dr. Lionel Zarbock free access to each nation’s resources,” the Secretary-General announced from the podium, “please vote in the affirmative.”

  “The United States objects to such a resolution,” the American delegates promptly declared.

  “I can understand your hesitation, my fine American friends,” Lionel said. “So let me tell you something else that I’m sure you’ll find most intriguing. If everyone would please turn his or her attention to the image on the screen.” A satellite image of the world appeared next in the slideshow, with the Atlantic Ocean in the center. “This was the position of the earth’s continents just before Sunken Earth imploded and triggered the so-called mega-quake.” It looked perfectly normal, as far as anyone could decipher. “Now, let’s compare it to the continents’ positions today, shall we?” When Lionel advanced the presentation, the current slide remained unchanged while a second satellite image of the world came into view, except it was more transparent so that when it was laid over the first map, the onlookers could clearly see any differences between the two images.

  And there certainly were differences. And they certai
nly saw them.

  Gasps of shock bounced off the round walls of the assembly hall as everyone learned a startling fact.

  “Yes, it’s true, ladies and gentlemen,” Lionel stated soberly. “The natural movement of the continents has not only been reversed but also greatly accelerated. You see, each element exerts tremendous and continuous amounts of energy, but when one becomes trapped inside the Oracle, it leaves behind a great void in the earth. This sudden power struggle is what causes plates to shift, seafloor to buckle, and volcanoes and pyramids to crumble. So, the void in the Bermuda Triangle pushed the North American continent in a new, southeastward direction while the explosive demise of Easter Island pushed South America into a northeastward one. And all the recent activity in Africa has already sent that continent heading westward.”

  Such a troubling reality cast a dark cloud of silent terror over the proceedings.

  “Well, that explains why our barges have been taking longer to sail to and from the Americas,” the Chinese said amongst themselves.

  “Maybe this is why the fuel usage for many of our airplanes has been so erratic,” the delegates from India debated.

  “You’ve known this for over a year and are just now telling us about it?” the American consulate accused with continued distrust. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

  “I tried,” Lionel confessed. “Do you not remember when I approached this very assembly last year and reported on the condition of all the world’s nuclear reactors following the so-called mega-quake? In my remarks, I said that I had reason to believe that the regular movement of the earth’s tectonic plates may have been disrupted.”

  “Did you now?” the American scoffed. Then, calling out to the archivists, “Check the minutes.” While the archivists skimmed the electronic archives of past proceedings, the Americans glanced back at the unsettling images on the screen and confidently reasoned among themselves, “How could we forget something like this?”

  “Actually, as I recall,” Lionel grinned, “the assembly dismissed my claim as non-threatening and said it would be investigated at a later date.”