“I hope you’re staying out of trouble!”
Zachary hid his guilt. Everything he had been doing was to save the farm, but people had been killed and it troubled him deeply.
He went into the living room and turned on the television. A 24-hour news station displayed text that scrolled along the bottom of the screen, “Bear Claw First Nation Chief Killed by Canadian Army.” Shocked, Zachary put his head in his hands, unsure of what to think or feel.
Marilyn noticed her son’s reaction and came over to sit by him. “What’s the matter, Zachary? Tell me what’s wrong.”
“A friend died today.”
“Who!? What are you talking about?” She glanced at the TV screen.
“Chief Keme died.”
“I don’t understand. Who’s the chief? How did you know him? Does this have something to do with your new friend?”
“Yes, I met Chief Keme because of Billy.”
“Zachary, you need to be careful! I don’t want you getting hurt with radical stuff. It’s easy to get caught up in a cause.”
“Mom, that’s the problem! Nobody’s getting caught up in anything.”
“Zach, listen to me. Promise me you won’t get involved with these radical groups. You might get killed!”
He felt the fear in her heart. Nobody loved him more than his mother and he didn’t want to upset her, but he also didn’t want to lie to her. “How can you ask me to do nothing after the oil company destroyed our land and the government turns a blind eye?”
“It’s not fair!” Marilyn shouted, surprised at her own anger. She calmed down. “It’s not fair and I would love to take down the oil companies and corrupt politicians, but at some point, I just want to be happy. I don’t want to spend my life fighting.” She stroked her son’s head, brushing his hair to the side. “I want to enjoy the rest of my life with you in it. Please be careful.”
The moon shone between the clouds. An owl hooted from a nearby branch. Billy sat on a tree stump beside the small fire he had built. A light glowed inside his trailer. The dog warmed himself next to the flames, resting his head on his forepaws. Billy sprinkled tobacco over the fire, watching the smoke curl into the dark sky. He prayed, “Ancestors, a great warrior died today. Please welcome this brave man into your loving arms.” He sprinkled more tobacco into the fire. “Chief Keme, you are a good man. We’ll continue the fight in your honor.” He raised his beer toasting the chief, “It was a good day to die. Peaceful journeys!”
The owl hooted as if saying, “Amen,” and the crickets offered their condolences, chirping softly in the darkness.
The Crow
A CROW FLEW over the horizon tightly clutching a scroll in its claws. The expansive, well-manicured lawn of the White House came into view where the president and the first lady were being prepped for an interview showcasing their organic garden. The couple wore blue jeans and plaid shirts to fit the part. A makeup artist finished touching up the president’s foundation.
The famous television reporter, Barbara Phillips, approached the president and his wife. “We’d like to get some candid footage of you two working together in the garden, right after we ask you a few questions. Is that okay?”
“Of course, Barbara. We’d love to show the American people how important the environment and healthy living are to us—”
Barbara interrupted, “Excuse me, Mr. President, but we weren’t rolling yet. Could you save that and start over?”
“Certainly. We’d love to show the American people how important the environment and healthy…”
The crow swooped into the scene, fluttering over the president, dropping the scroll on his lap before flying away, cawing loudly. The president stared at the scroll, afraid to touch it. He jumped up. The rolled parchment fell on the grass. The first lady sat stunned.
A Secret Service agent rushed over to examine it, holding his arm up protectively toward the president. “Stand back, sir! It could be laced with something!”
Moments later, an official-looking man arrived on the scene wearing gloves and carrying a plastic bag. He cautiously used tongs to pick up the scroll, stating, “We’ll have it examined and get back to you with the results, Mr. President.”
“Let me know as soon as you find out anything,” the president instructed, trying to keep his cool. He looked at the reporter. “Sorry for the interruption, but I need to change my clothes.” He stopped walking mid-step. “Oh, Barbara, let’s make sure that footage doesn’t appear anywhere. Understood?”
“Of course, sir!” She glanced at the cameraman. “Erase it.”
He nodded, hitting a button.
The Scroll’s Message
LATER THAT AFTERNOON while the US president was enjoying a cup of coffee in the Oval Office, his secretary announced that the head of the Secret Service was on the phone.
The president hit the speaker button. “Ted, you got the test results?”
“Yes. No toxins, viruses or any chemical considered dangerous.” The president sighed with relief. The head of the Secret Service continued, “However, because of the unusual circumstances, I thought you might want to read it. The scroll that is.”
“Sounds good. Send it over. I’ll take a look.”
An hour later, an internal courier delivered a copy secured in a black leather attaché case, laying it on the desk. The president was busy talking with his staff and barely noticed its arrival.
It wasn’t until later, when the president was in the middle of a private conversation with his chief counsel, that he remembered the scroll. He said to the lawyer, “An interesting thing happened this morning. I’m outside doing one of those bullshit photo ops with my wife. God, she loves those things. Anyway, a bird drops a scroll on my lap—”
“Excuse me, a bird!?”
“Yeah, strangest thing. Anyway, the scroll’s here. Would you like to see it?”
“Sure. This should be interesting.”
The president went to his desk and opened the attaché case. Inside was a copy of the scroll printed on multiple letter-sized sheets. The men stood side by side reading it.
This directive is intended for the President of the United States and all members of its government, sent on behalf of Earth who cannot speak for herself.
This letter serves as fair warning that if the following terms are not met there will be consequences:
1. You will phase out the use of energy sources that are not renewable and/or harmful to the environment, such as oil, natural gas, shoal fracking, dams and nuclear power. Within seven years, only Earth-friendly technology may be used for energy needs, which do not harm the environment during the process of collecting, installing, using or disposal.
2. The use, testing and selling of genetically modified organisms (GMO) shall cease immediately. A trust fund shall be established to compensate farmers of GMO crop failures, as well as those who were unable to sell their crops after being classified as GMO. This applies to any and all farmers throughout the world, including farmers whose crops were contaminated by neighboring GMO fields.
3. Use, storage and/or ownership of nuclear weapons is prohibited. These weapons must be dismantled immediately.
4. The use of natural or synthetic chemicals to kill any living creature, vegetation or human is prohibited, i.e. pesticides, herbicides, neurological chemicals, systemics, etc. The ownership of such chemicals will be considered a violation. You have one year to properly dispose of them in such a way that they do not contaminate the environment.
5. The production of non-biodegradable plastic is to cease within one year. The only exception is medical equipment and supplies.
6. You must humanely raise farm/commercial mammals/birds/fish and treat them with respect. All animals and birds must be kept in spacious facilities that are well-maintained, well-ventilated and allow ample room for them to move freely. All animals and birds shall have access to open-air areas. All fish farms are to provide ample swimming areas. All farms are to install video cameras that allow public viewing of i
nteraction between humans and animals to prevent cruelty. All feed must be compatible with their natural diets. None of the animals, birds or fish are to be given hormones, steroids or chemicals. Antibiotics can be used to treat current illnesses, but not for prevention. All slaughtering processes are to be humane with no pain or emotional suffering.
7. Pollution is to be reduced by 70% within seven years.
8. Only existing managed forests may be harvested. Existing farmland may be converted into managed forests. Trees in virgin forests cannot be cut for commercial purposes. Trees can be cut for forest management and forest fire prevention; however, all the trees (except diseased) that are cut in virgin forests are to remain within the forest, providing nutrients for the vegetation, as well as homes for the animals.
9. You will set up recycling plants in every city.
10. Weather warfare and geo-engineering, such as chemtrails, are prohibited and shall cease immediately. To help restore balance in nature, commission your indigenous people to actively work with the weather spirits.
This message has been delivered to government leaders throughout the world. All leaders are expected to work together to develop solutions and publicly share those solutions within thirty (30) days.
As a display of power, we recently stopped the oil spill at Bear Claw Lake in Alberta, Canada, relocating the oil waste and casualties to the Canadian parliamentary complex in Ottawa, Ontario.
Respectfully,
Earth Sentinels
Oh, God, another nut, thought the president.
The lawyer said, “Seems like a tall order.” He chuckled.
The president scowled. “No nuclear weapons? Phase out oil? Impossible. Weather spirits? Ridiculous.”
“You could probably do number six—”
“First, I am not doing anything. Second, this obviously came from someone who needs help.”
“What’s that at the bottom?” the lawyer asked.
“Earth Sentinels?”
“No, here.” He pointed at the last sentence. “Where it says they stopped the oil spill at Bear Claw Lake, relocating the oil to Ontario. I didn’t know that happened.”
“As far as I know, it hasn’t,” replied the president.
They were both right. The oil was being carried by the wind and wouldn’t drop onto the Canadian complex until morning.
Haruto’s Choice
HARUTO WAS MEDITATING in the garden under an old cherry tree where moss grew on the shaded rocks nestled between its roots.
The Voice whispered to her, “Haruto…who have you been listening to?”
What do you mean? she thought, perplexed.
“The lightning strikes…the dead men,” the Voice reminded her. “These were not loving acts.”
We had to do something! Haruto bitterly ruminated that the government did not fully comprehend the damage caused by the ongoing Fukushima disaster. Right after the meltdown first occurred, the politicians proposed building a new nuclear plant, relinquishing the idea only after massive protests by the Japanese people. Rebuild? Had they learned nothing from history? She recalled the United States dropping atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki during World War II. Nine years later, the US accidentally radiated a Japanese fishing boat while testing a hydrogen bomb in the Pacific. The fishermen returned to shore, sold their contaminated fish, and then developed acute radiation sickness. In an effort to mend fences, President Eisenhower compensated the fishermen and built the nuclear reactor in Fukushima. He dubbed the gift, “Atoms for Peace.”
She wondered, What could possibly be going through their minds? What draws Japan to nuclear catastrophes like a moth to a flame? What karmic lessons are they doomed to repeat, over and over again, until they learn from their mistakes?
“Still examining the darkness, little one?” the Voice asked.
No! I’m done. We will fix this problem and put an end to this stupidity!
“Ask yourself if what you are doing is loving.”
It’s loving to the planet, she countered.
The Voice suggested, “Why don’t we visit the shoreline near the nuclear plant?”
Haruto agreed. Instantly her spirit floated over the beach where she viewed the bloated carcasses of whales, sharks, dolphins and fish. The stench was overpowering. She gagged, desperate to get away until she noticed the spiritual essences rising out of the dead marine mammals and fish, swimming happily in the air around her. Haruto’s long, black hair began streaming in an invisible current and her clothes billowed as if she were under water. Playful dolphin spirits frolicked through the mystical sea while energetic shark bodies circled on the surface over the slow-moving, gigantic whales. Translucent fish darted in schools around her. Haruto embraced the love and unity among their souls, feeling her heart soar, but then she glimpsed the nuclear plant, causing her joy to screech to a halt.
The Voice advised her, “It’s your choice. Which do you prefer to see?”
Haruto beheld the spirits frolicking around her, then viewed the nuclear plant again, becoming enraged by the steam rising off the boiling sea while workers in bio-hazard suits moved about the facilities. “It’s not right! They can’t do this!” she yelled, clenching her fists.
The spirits faded away. Haruto found herself once again sitting in the garden. She immediately regretted letting her fear take over, shouting, “I chose wrongly!”
The Voice spoke to her, but Haruto couldn’t hear It. Her anger and regret blocked it.
She felt utterly alone until she remembered the spirit guides—the samurai soldiers, crone and priestess—who might help her. Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes, letting her spirit roam free. Clouds rolled in.
The dragon appeared, examining Haruto with his golden eyes. His voice rumbled as he said, “Ah, I see you have returned. Very well, follow me.” He led the way, his large frame lumbering through the mist. Once more, they came to the ornate iron gate, moving past it, entering the forest where eventually they met the spirit guides, who were relaxing around the fire pit.
The samurai soldiers and priestess stood to bow, pleased to see the Miko again. Haruto returned the bow.
The crone who remained sitting, heckled, “Back again, heh?”
The priestess motioned for Haruto to join them by the fire. “Tell us what is on your mind.”
Haruto confided, “I’m frustrated. I don’t understand why my desire to heal a disaster is having such a negative response.”
“There’s nothing wrong with trying to help. It’s how and why you do it that matters. Learn how to love the spirit behind these events and the events will respond to your love, transforming themselves.”
Haruto was unsure. “Hmmm…let me ask you this, ‘How can the nuclear disaster be fixed?’”
The priestess smiled. “That is easy. Forgive it. Through forgiveness, you reinforce our oneness, our perfection, and refuse to be deceived by outward appearances.”
Haruto felt her resistance to this advice welling up. How she wished she could let her anger go.
“Remember, you are never angry for the reason you think you are…” the priestess said as her voice faded away.
Everything went black. Haruto opened her eyes. The sun was setting. A chill was in the air and the garden walls cast long shadows across the ground. Shivering, she followed the path back to the temple.
Conchita
IN THE RAINFOREST, water softly dripped from the moist vegetation. Most of the tribe members were napping to avoid the mid-day heat. Sitting inside a hut, Conchita played peekaboo with the baby Capuchin monkey that popped its head up from under the arm of its surrogate mother, Sonsala, who was breastfeeding her baby. The well-fed monkey hid its head again. Conchita giggled, then asked Sonsala, “Have you named this one yet?”
“Her name is Bebe. A good monkey, but hopefully, she and the older one will return to the forest where they belong.” Sonsala petted the creature on the head. Bebe drowsily closed her eyes, enjoying the attention. “Why don’t we see if th
e monkeys remember each other?” Sonsala suddenly stood up, carrying a baby in each arm.
They strode across the common area and entered the hut where the adult Capuchin lay recuperating. Although still weak from his injuries, the monkey’s eyes lit up when he saw a familiar face. He raised his arm, beckoning Bebe. The little one was curious, but afraid to let go of the woman who had given her a second chance at life. Sonsala set the baby monkey on the ground, nudging her toward the male monkey. Bebe hesitantly walked over to him. He tenderly reached out, stroking her head. She smelled his arm, remembering him, touching the scar on his face, tracing it with her fingers.
As Sonsala watched the two monkeys interact, she mentioned, “The women like him. He is a good patient. Never bites!” Sonsala’s own infant began to fuss. She soothed him, then said, “Tawka likes you. Maybe you will get married and have babies?”
Conchita was torn. She had thought Tawka would make a great husband until she met the pale outsider with green eyes, who was always on her mind. Does his skin feel the same as mine? Can he climb a tree as well as the other men? Can he stealthily move through the forest? But her most prominent thought was, Does he like me? “Who knows what tomorrow brings,” she replied, avoiding the question.
“You will break the heart of Tawka if you do not marry him.”
I need to be happy, too, Conchita thought, but how would the pale outsider and I ever be together? I would never be able to live apart from the rainforest and he would not want to live here.
Analyzing the Scroll
THE CIA DIRECTOR entered the US president’s office. “Good morning, sir. I have a delicate matter to discuss with you.”
The president crossed his arms. “Have a seat. What’s on your mind?”
Frank said, “It’s the scroll, the one delivered weeks ago. We’ve done our homework and here’s what we know. The parchment is 2,000 years old—highly valuable in its own right. The blue ink is the same type used in Egyptian tombs. The ribbon is ancient silk from China, carbon dated at 600 BC.”
Earth Sentinels Collection Page 7
