“What do they want!?” Pahtia asked angrily.
Bechard answered, “It is difficult to explain, but I will do my best. These people search for the earth’s black blood, called oil, and other treasures, such as trees and animals. They take these things and exchange them for money. Money that is exchanged for other things.”
“I do not understand. Is there not enough where they come from?” Pahtia couldn’t comprehend the intruders’ unquenchable thirst for the jungle’s resources.
Billy said, “Let me try. When a person doesn’t understand the ways of the Spirit, they feel empty, and they try to fill their emptiness with money, but it’s never enough.”
The shaman looked at Billy. He could tell this man had seen the outside world and knew things he would never know. “I do not understand this emptiness, nor do I want to. I just want the intruders gone,” Pahtia said solemnly, holding his daughter close. From under her father’s arm, Conchita shyly glanced at Zachary, finding him attractive despite his light skin and lanky build.
It was now the Bear Claw Tribe’s turn to gaze into the crystal ball. Clustered together, they found Bear Claw Lake, watching it zoom closer until the oil disaster came into view. Black smoke hung over the land that was crisscrossed with fire channels. Wearing protective gear and oxygen tanks, firefighters sprayed foam over the flames, which kept reigniting because of the continual supply of crude oil oozing from the ground. The tribe’s outrage intensified when they saw the devastation in living color.
Tom Running Deer cried out, “No! Not our precious land!” He struck the glass with his fist. Lightning shot out, coursing through the sky, striking the oil company’s rigs and trucks, as well as the nearby military base’s planes, vehicles and buildings.
Down below, the Falicon employees and Canadian soldiers were stunned. Without warning, lightning bolted in every direction. There was nowhere to hide. People cowered on the ground. A pilot opened his plane’s door, falling to the pavement. Smoke rose from his head. His skin and clothes were blackened. Lightning struck an officer inside the air traffic control tower. He jerked back and forth as electricity tore through his body. Lightning filled the sky, continuing to strike until Tom removed his hand. He and the other tribe members were shocked, yet pleased, by the unexpected destruction.
Cecile reached over to touch the glass ball with her finger. A bolt of lightning hit one of the planes. The tribe members cheered.
Seizing the opportunity, Zachary ran to the glass ball, desperately searching for the oil rigs near his family’s farm. When they spun into view, he lowered his fist onto the globe. Lightning erupted, striking the oil rigs below, sending a worker flying. The man hit the ground where he lay motionless. One of the gas storage units exploded.
Zachary was horrified. He had assumed the oil rigs were unmanned. A man might be dead because of what I did, he agonized.
Bechard waved his hand over the glass globe. The blue mist reappeared. “We need to be careful how we use this power. It’s time to develop a plan.
After everyone had gathered around Bechard, he addressed them, “Let me begin with this thought, ‘If you could solve your problems with no limitations of time, money or physics…how would you do it?’”
The question took the Bear Claw Tribe members by surprise. After feeling victimized for so long, it was hard for them to shift gears to feel empowered.
“Anything?” asked Cecile.
“Anything,” Bechard assured her.
“Well, I’d stop the oil spill…and make the oil companies leave and never come back. In fact, disappear altogether. And then, I’d heal the land. Oh…and get our land back…the land the government stole from us.”
“I think that sums it up,” concurred Chief Keme. The other tribe members agreed.
Bechard looked at Haruto, “And you?”
“I want to stop the nuclear meltdown, and restore the land and sea, but at this point, it would take divine intervention.”
“I think you will find all the power you need right here,” Bechard offered, motioning with his hand.
Mahakanta shouted, “I want my life back! To live on the farm with my family, enjoying the fruits of our labor!”
Bechard nodded, then looked at Pahtia and Conchita, motioning for one of them to speak.
The shaman spoke, “Grave danger is heading toward our village. The intruders will come again, destroying the rainforest and my people. I want the intruders stopped…forever!”
Zachary asked, “The stuff that happened in the glass ball. Did it actually happen?”
The fallen angel looked at everyone before him and said firmly, “Let me be very clear on this. Everything we do here in the spirit realm will manifest in the physical realm, which is why we need to be careful.”
The Bear Claw Tribe members were especially happy with this news, because it meant that the oil company equipment and military base had been destroyed.
“Maybe we’ll actually get our land back,” Chief Keme commented.
“Who wants it now? It’s all messed up!” Tom complained bitterly.
Bechard walked over to the glass ball, waving his hand over it. The mist dissipated, revealing the earth inside. “You know the old saying, ‘oil and water don’t mix?’ Look closely.”
Everyone watched the lake water spin around and around with such intensity that it became a waterspout, lifting the oil from the lake and washing it from the surrounding lifeless trees, offering it to the heavens. A wind swept down and gathered the oil, animal carcasses and tar balls, carrying the ravages of senseless human actions above the clouds. The water fell back into the lake, creating waves that flooded the forest, extinguished the flames, then slowly ebbed, returning to the lake. At the same time, the ground shook and trembled, shifting the land, filling in the cracks and crevices, sealing the oil below.
The Bear Claw Tribe members were amazed that the oil spill had been stopped, the water was clean and the fires were out. The lake and surrounding area looked fairly healthy, despite the dead plants and trees.
“Don’t worry. The land will recover,” Bechard assured them.
Chief Keme vigorously shook Bechard’s hand. “Thank you!”
“You’re welcome, but if you want to save the rest of the planet, we’ll need as many people as possible. A group effort you might say. Is everyone in?”
They all nodded.
“Wonderful! Let’s begin by inviting shamans from every corner of the earth!”
Inside the crystal ball, a remote Siberian tundra came into view. A shamaness hiked with two reindeer toward her cabin. Her multi-colored skirt flapped in the chilly wind. The reindeer obediently followed her inside where they rested on the dirt floor. She chopped wild carrots, adding them to the stew simmering over a fire, but stopped when she sensed a presence in her home. “Tell me, Spirit, what do you want?”
Bechard answered her telepathically, streaming the recent events through her mind. She quickly grasped what they were trying to achieve and responded, “Nay, I prefer to be alone. People bring heartache.”
“True enough!” Bechard agreed. “But how long before the oil companies trek across your land, destroying it with oil spills and pipelines?”
“Let me deal with it when the time comes,” she replied.
“Why not put an end to it now? We can insist that the world use Earth-friendly solutions. And if we make our demands together, they won’t be able to ignore us.”
“Why don’t you do it? You seem powerful enough.”
“It’s complicated,” answered Bechard. “Let’s just say there are universal laws that prevent me from interfering…too much. For this plan to work, it needs to be carried out, for the most part, by inhabitants such as yourself.”
The shamaness pondered his words, then reluctantly said, “Feels like I’m dealing with the devil, but I’ll work with you.”
Bechard nodded, and then said, “We are honored to have you!”
The Messengers
WHEN BILLY
AND Zachary returned from the spirit realm, the sun was low on the horizon. The forest cast eerie shadows and was filled with strange noises. A crow sat on a nearby branch observing them. The atmosphere agitated Zachary.
Billy studied the young man knowing the recent events were a lot for him to deal with, and it wasn’t over. In Billy’s hand was a rolled scroll tied with a blue ribbon that had materialized from the spirit realm.
Zachary asked, “Can I see it?”
Billy untied the ribbon. The ancient parchment unfurled, displaying a flourished message written in vibrant blue ink. Zachary studied the document a moment before pulling out his phone, snapping a picture of it.
“What do you plan to do with that?” Billy inquired.
“Every time I think I’ve lost my mind, I’m gonna look at this and know it’s real.”
“Well, let’s send it on its way.” Billy rolled the scroll back up, tied the blue ribbon around it, then held it above his head. The crow swooped down, snatching it with its feet. The men watched the bird fly above the trees and out of sight.
“Come on, kid, let’s head back.” Billy picked up his drum, slinging it over his shoulder.
They were almost out of the woods when Zachary asked, “What do you think about the lightning strikes? I mean…people are dead because of it. I feel really bad.”
Billy didn’t answer right away, contemplating his answer. “I don’t like attacking anyone, but I’m not afraid to fight. You think innocent bystanders were killed, but each of us chooses his own destiny.”
“I don’t understand,” said Zachary.
“Shit happens! The oil company employees and soldiers knew it was wrong—being paid to protect the selfish interests of a few old men. My father used to say, ‘If you sleep with dogs, you’re going to get fleas.’”
“But getting fleas is a long ways from being killed!”
“After you spend enough time in the spirit realm, you’ll understand we don’t die, we just change form. Those people aren’t dead. They just don’t have bodies at the moment.”
“Not sure you’re making me feel better.”
“Wasn’t trying to make you feel better, just understand, or at least see it from a different perspective.”
Meanwhile, in Africa, a shaman wearing a multi-colored wrap stood outside his hut, resting on a gnarled-wood staff while holding a scroll tied with a blue ribbon above his head. A Bateleur eagle perched on the thatch roof cocked his head, then flapped his giant black and white wings, taking to flight, seizing the scroll out of the man’s hand. The bird’s giant wings stirred up the dusty ground as he ascended, flying toward the capital city of Kinshasa, located in the Democratic Republic of Congo.
In Siberia, the shamaness and her reindeer stood at the edge of a birch tree forest. A snowy-faced owl sat on a branch hooting, his round eyes staring at the old woman. As if on cue, he silently glided toward her, snatching the rolled parchment from her weathered hand.
The Conspiracy Blogger
NORMAN P. DUNSTEAD scoured the Internet looking for suspicious weather phenomena, UFO sightings and government cover-ups. He typed “strange weather” in the search bar. The top search result read, “BREAKING NEWS! Lightning Hits Canadian Military Base Near Oil Spill, Killing 3 Soldiers.” He read the juicy details, complete with the first-ever photos of the Bear Claw Lake oil spill. Now that the air force base had been destroyed, there was no one on hand to prevent reporters from taking aerial shots and invading the property. The article quoted an anonymous firefighter as saying, “The lightning came out of nowhere! There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.” But the article also explained that, while unusual, lightning has been known to travel as far as 10 miles, striking people out of the blue on a sunny day.
Yeah, but this just happens to be over an oil spill, Norman countered, pondering the possibilities. Weird military testing using its own facilities as Guinea pigs? Geo-engineering? Aliens? Norman rested his chubby fingers on the keyboard trying to find the right words for his newest blog post.
Uninspired, he browsed the search results again. He found a news video that had just been posted in Alberta, Canada.
An attractive reporter spoke into her microphone, “This is Lisa Bantoné from Channel 5 News live at Bear Claw Lake reporting on the bizarre weather patterns we’ve been experiencing, which so far have included an earthquake, waterspout and a windstorm that literally swept away the oil spill that once covered this lake.” The camera panned to show the healthier lake, although oil residue could still be seen on the tree trunks. “Combine these events with the lightning storm from earlier today, and you gotta admit, it’s mighty strange. The locals claim the land is protected by the Bear Claw Tribe’s ancestors taking revenge. At this point, I might believe anything,” she said with a half smile. “Back to you, Gary.”
Gary sat in the newsroom shaking his head in disbelief, “Wow! Incredible stuff, Lisa.” He turned, looking directly into the camera, “We’ll keep you informed of any changes in the situation, and of course, our condolences to the families of the fallen heroes. Now on to the news. Two men are dead after—” The video ended.
On to the news? Christ almighty! They should have 24-hour coverage at Bear Claw Lake. Who knows what’ll happen there next? Norman thought. He began enthusiastically writing a blog post, complete with a video clip.
Return to Bear Claw Lake
AS SOON AS the Bear Claw Tribe members handed off the scroll, they headed toward the lake intending to verify that the oil spill had indeed been remedied. The young and old alike hiked through the woods carrying sacred totem objects and sage to cleanse the area of its negative energy. When they reached the lake, the people mourned for the dead plants and trees, but were relieved to discover that the oil was no longer gushing from the cracked reservoir. Finally, the land could heal.
Chief Keme led them in prayer, thanking the Great Spirit for bringing Bechard to them. After completing the prayers and burning the sage, the tribe trudged to the military base. As they drew near, the smoldering trucks and planes came into view. The base was abandoned except for the Channel 5 News crew, which was hurriedly packing up their equipment, trying to make it back to the station before dark. When they saw the Bear Claw Tribe emerge from the woods, the crew quickly unpacked the camera, rushing over to interview them.
Lisa held out her microphone. “What do you have to say about these recent events?” She waited for someone to speak, but the tribe members remained silent as they looked around assessing the damage.
A convoy of covered army trucks rumbled onto the base. As soon as the trucks stopped, soldiers jumped out. A Royal Canadian major shouted through a megaphone, “This is government property! All trespassers will be prosecuted! You must leave immediately! I repeat, you must leave immediately!”
The army’s presence and demands reignited the tribe members’ anger. Empowered by recent victories, the tribe stood its ground. The soldiers aimed their guns, advancing toward them, halting a short distance away. Some of the soldiers dropped to the pavement, propping their weapons, ready to shoot.
The Bear Claw Tribe had seen this all before, generation after generation, century after century. Tired of being displaced, abused and kicked around, they refused to obey.
“Leave or we’ll shoot!” the major threatened.
Chief Keme weaved his way through the group, taking his place at the front to protect his people. He shouted, “We were here first! You stole our land, then destroyed it! You go home! Sail across the ocean, back to your ancestors. This is our land!”
One of the soldiers readied his gun, aiming through the scope.
Chief Keme instinctively jumped in front of Cecile just before the shot rang out. The bullet caught him in the heart. He crumpled to the ground.
“Hold your fire! Damnit! Put your guns down, NOW!” yelled the major. “Somebody get a medic!”
Cecile wailed, “Noooo! Oh, God, no!”
Chief Keme’s dead eyes stared blindly at the sunset. He had di
ed on the land he loved—the land he had played on as a child. He had died a warrior.
The major demanded that the news crew turn off their camera and erase the footage, but it was too late. The live feed had already been transmitted to the station.
Cecile lay sobbing over Chief Keme’s body. Others cried or grieved silently. A few raised their fists threatening to attack the soldiers.
A strong breeze rattled the leaves. Snowflakes carried by an arctic wind began falling. The flurry turned into a blizzard, leaving the soldiers confused and blinded by the instant snowstorm that fell short of the tribe, acting as a barrier between them.
Tom knelt by the chief, picking up his body, beginning the solemn journey home.
The tribe followed, vowing revenge.
Zachary Returns Home
THE DAY’S EVENTS in the spirit realm weighed heavily on Zachary’s mind as he parked the truck in the driveway. He noticed the light in the kitchen window and wondered if his parents were still up.
He slowly walked to the back of the house, entering the dimly lit kitchen. The dogs that had been sleeping under the table drowsily got up to greet him. His mother sat there gazing at nothing. Zachary quietly closed the door, waiting for her to notice him.
“We tested the soil,” she said somberly, continuing to stare into space. “It’s bad. The water is ruined.” She looked at Zachary. “We can’t drink it, or take a bath, or irrigate our crops.”
Zachary saw the fear in her eyes. He walked over to her, bending to hug her. “It’ll be all right.”
Marilyn accepted his loving gesture. “I know.”
She changed the subject. “Where have you been?”
“Out…with a friend.”
Earth Sentinels Collection Page 6
