The Null Prophecy

by Michael Guillen

  “Wait a minute. I remember hearing about that. They said she was—oh, my gosh.”

  It all came back to Allie.

  Coronal mass ejections—sudden cannon blasts of solar particles—usually weren’t aimed at Earth. When they were, the particles bombarded the upper atmosphere, creating dazzling aurorae high in the sky. In some instances the radiation penetrated more deeply and disrupted communications.

  In one horrific case, four years earlier, a CME was so powerful and the Arctic’s magnetic defenses were so inexplicably weakened, radiation broke in and incinerated everything in its path, all the way down to the surface. The scientist—her name was Nell O’Reilly, as she recalled—was doing research outside on the ice when it happened.

  “Oh, Calder, I’m so, so sorry. I had no idea she was your wife.”

  He didn’t reply.

  In the quietude she could hear and feel Hero hydroplaning across the choppy seas. She grew weightless whenever the vehicle became airborne, like a stone skipping across the surface of a pond. It was unnerving at first but she was getting used to it.

  Still, as they hurtled across the open ocean at breakneck speed she was keenly aware of the danger. Hero was made of an impregnable ceramic-metal laminate, but she only of flesh and blood.

  She wondered what Calder was made of.

  “When Nell was alive,” he said, breaking the long silence, “I set up my lab in Kangerlussuaq, on the west coast of Greenland—just to be close to her. It was great. During the week I worked on Hero; on weekends we came together and talked about the future.

  “When Sara was born we homeschooled her. Like I told you before, she’s in Australia now for an internship. You’ll get to meet her—she’s close to one of the stranding sites. She’s nineteen, a great kid. I really miss her.”

  She waited for him to continue.

  “When the commander of Naval Base Point Loma happened to hear the news of Nell’s death and my research, he invited me to relocate to San Diego—offered to lease me an unused hangar on the base. It was in bad shape, he said, but he was willing to have it retrofitted according to my special needs. That meant making the building fireproof, bomb-proof, radiation-proof, you name it—to protect the outside world from the possibility of my quantum vacuum experiments accidentally exploding. In exchange for all that he asked me to grant the Navy certain rights to exploit my invention. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse. At that point I’d used up all of my own money on Hero; I was close to being totally broke.”

  “What sort of rights? Do you worry about how the Navy might use your technology?”

  “That’s something I’m not free to discuss. But, anyway, their license is non-exclusive. It means I’m free, within reason, to take Hero into the marketplace, which is what I’m planning to do.”

  At length she said, “Well, this trip will help, that’s for sure. You’re getting millions of dollars’ worth of free publicity.”

  She looked through the windshield at the white caps whizzing by.

  As long as nothing goes wrong.

  TUESDAY, APRIL 25 (5:33 P.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME)

  CANADIAN FORCES STATION ALERT; NUNAVUT, CANADA

  Dallan spent an hour in the communications office trying unsuccessfully to phone his assistant in Boulder. The magnetic instability over the Arctic was allowing radiation to penetrate deeply into the upper atmosphere, making communications impossible.

  Brody said he would’ve evacuated the base by now, but the magnetic disruptions were playing havoc with the aircraft’s electronic navigation systems as well. It was unsafe for even one of his most experienced pilots to fly under these conditions.

  Dallan walked into Brody’s office for an update.

  “There you are!” the major said from behind his computer. “Come have a look at this.”

  Becky Anawak, the Inuit biologist, was standing next to him. She looked at Dallan with large, doe-like eyes and smiled.

  “Hey, Becky,” he said, entering the room.

  She looked positively beautiful without her bulky cold-weather gear on.

  “Hey,” she replied.

  Dallan came alongside the two and bent forward to see the computer screen.

  “It’s the latest intel from our global net of magnetometers,” Brody explained. “The information is sensitive but not classified, so I’m allowed to show you.”

  Dallan recoiled at what he saw. “What?! No way!”

  The strength of the magnetic field directly above the North Pole was nearly gone. If the deterioration continued there would be a gaping hole in the field hundreds of miles across. When that happened solar radiation could penetrate freely into the atmosphere; bulldoze its way down through the layers of air until it ultimately reached Earth’s surface. Everything within ground zero would be fried.

  But that wasn’t the worst of it. The map showed weak spots opening elsewhere around the globe, high above the cities of San Diego, Nagasaki, Humpty Doo in Australia, and Cádiz in Spain. If they continued growing, the same fate awaited those cities.

  He looked to Brody. “For god’s sake, when did this all start happening?!”

  “After we got back from Thule. But until now we weren’t sure how much of it was real. We’re still not one hundred percent sure—the San Diego spot seems to be going away.”

  “But this is crazy,” Dallan said, straightening up and running a hand through his greasy, unwashed hair. “What in the world’s going on?!”

  “That’s what we were hoping you’d tell us,” Becky said.

  WEDNESDAY, APRIL 26 (12:17 A.M. MOUNTAIN DAYLIGHT TIME)

  PARKER CENTER FOR BEHAVIORAL HEALTH; DENVER, COLORADO

  Lorena decided it was time to make her move. Her plan to get away was simple: sneak out, take a cab home to get her passport, then continue on to the airport, where she’d fly to Israel.

  She thought of Dallan and her spirits nosedived.

  Forget it!

  Nothing matters now but getting to Jerusalem.

  Ever so stealthily, she eased herself out of bed and got dressed.

  Fools.

  For the past few days she’d pretended to go along with the doctors and nurses; to behave like a model patient so they’d relax their vigilance of her.

  She recalled a verse in Matthew as she pulled on her sweater.

  I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves.

  They’ll see.

  Quiet as a church mouse, she cracked open her room’s door and surveyed the dim hallway—first this way, then that.

  The coast was clear. She rushed out on tiptoes.

  A minute later, just as she was within sight of the front entrance, she noticed a man sauntering toward her.

  No!

  She quickly sized him up.

  Janitor.

  Looking around, she spied a women’s bathroom and dashed into it.

  Please, Lord, please. Protect me.

  Locking herself inside a stall, she held her breath for what seemed like ages. But eventually she exhaled and soon thereafter worked up the courage to peek outside.

  The man was gone.

  She stared hard at the reception desk; it was unoccupied.

  Now!

  NOW!

  Without hesitating, without thinking, she sprinted across the vestibule. Then she pushed through the revolving door and fled away into the cool night air.

  “Thank you, Jesus,” she whispered. “Thank you!”

  CHAPTER 15

  SEA OF QUESTIONS

  WEDNESDAY, APRIL 26 (4:05 P.M. JAPAN STANDARD TIME)

  EAST CHINA SEA

  Allie was awakened by a bell-like alarm and Calder saying, “Okey-dokey, then, we’re just about there.”

  “Nagasaki?” she croaked. Looking outside, she blinked at the sight of choppers overhead and a tall cityscape in the near distance. “So soon?”

  “You nodded off and I let you sleep.”

  Between the extreme je
t lag caused by zooming through multiple time zones, having to sit in one position without a break, and natural concerns about safety aboard an experimental vehicle, she had struggled to relax last evening. It surprised her she’d finally fallen asleep.

  She stretched her arms.

  The body knows what it needs.

  The cabin alarm gave way to an intermittent, deep-throated horn.

  “We’ve got traffic,” Calder said—his voice, as nearly always, not betraying any emotion.

  Abruptly, Hero slowed to an idle.

  She looked outside and saw, dead ahead, a fleet of large boats with Japanese markings.

  Whalers?!

  “Harbor Police to Rescue One, can you read us? Over.” The voice on the radio was heavily accented.

  “Rescue One to Harbor Police. Yes, we read you. What’s happening here?”

  “Whaling ships. Please do not approach any farther. You are in violation of our territorial waters.”

  “Allie, can you hear me?” It was Eva’s voice coming through her earpiece.

  “Yes, chica, yes. I was just about to hail you. We’ve arrived in Nagasaki but they’re telling us to stay away. I don’t believe it.”

  “Well, believe it. Our chopper’s streaming live video of it right now. Turn on your mic and start talking.”

  Fully awake now, Allie quickly cleared her throat and flipped on the audio switch. “This is Allie Armendariz inside Rescue One. We’ve just been given a warning by Japanese authorities to abort our mission. No explanation as to why, but it’s not hard to guess what’s going on.”

  Over the years she’d done many news segments on the Japanese whaling industry and its many controversies. That’s why she was certain those ships out there right now were capturing wayward whales as they headed into shore—an atrocity akin to shooting fish in a barrel.

  “Decades ago Japanese fishermen whaled their coastal waters to death. Since then, they—”

  “Dr. Sinclair, please acknowledge our order. Over.” The accented voice sounded stern now.

  She stopped talking so viewers could see and hear for themselves what was happening.

  “Yes, we copy, sir,” Calder said. “Requesting innocent passage so—”

  She spotted a trio of official-looking speedboats, all rapidly heading in their direction. “Calder, look!”

  “Good lord!” he exclaimed. “These people are nuts!”

  “Dr. Sinclair,” said the radio voice, “this is your final warning. You are in violation—”

  “Calder!” she cried out. “Please, let’s just get out of here!”

  In the blink of an eye Hero’s engine roared to life. For several anxious moments she watched over her shoulder through the windshield, then finally breathed easy—the boats giving chase were now well behind them. Still shaking, she reached up to worry her hair but her hand was blocked by the helmet.

  WEDNESDAY, APRIL 26 (9:10 A.M. CENTRAL EUROPEAN SUMMER TIME)

  POOR CLARES’ SACRED HEART CONVENT; SEVILLE, SPAIN

  Following this morning’s Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, Mother Yolanda returned to her cell and donned her threadbare woolen robe. Shuffling across the room, she felt heavy knowing the Sacred Heart community—the priests, sisters, and kids—were all counting on her well-known, great faith to help save the 160-year-old orphanage.

  She paused before the aged prayer bench, looked up and sighed, and then, bracing herself, slowly descended onto her knees. “Holy Mother, full of grace, come quickly to our rescue. For the sake of the orphans. For the sake of the Kingdom.”

  The plea went on for many minutes, after which she struggled to her feet.

  “Mateo 19:14, this is Rising Son, can you hear me?”

  It took a moment for her to recognize the handle of the incoming radio greeting. But then it came to her. It was her old friend the Reverend Mother Mary Pius from the Monastery of St. Clare in Nagasaki. Mother Mary Pius helped found that community more than forty years earlier with a dozen sisters from the Poor Clares in Los Angeles.

  “Mateo 19:14, this is Rising Son, can you hear me, please?”

  Even though she was moving at top speed it took Mother Yolanda some time to reach the radio.

  “Mateo 19:14, this is—”

  “Yes, Rising Son, this is Mateo 19:14. How good to hear from you, Sister. It’s been too many years. Over.”

  “Oh, thank heaven. For a while there I thought—yes, it’s been far too long. How are you, my dear sister? Over.”

  After catching up on each other’s life, Mother Mary Pius said, “I’m calling about the boy—the man—you are looking for. I believe I have found him for you, praise God.”

  Mother Yolanda, feeling a chill course through her frail body, wrapped the robe more tightly around herself.

  “He was on television here in Japan. His name is Dr. Calder Sinclair. He has invented a special boat that can travel very fast.”

  Mother Yolanda began to weep and silently thank God for His faithfulness. She could not be certain this was indeed her man but knew she must try to make contact as quickly as possible.

  “But how can I get ahold of him, Sister?” she said. “Do you have any ideas? Over.”

  “That’s the best part, Sister. It’s a miracle. The television showed a map of where he’s headed. After Australia, which is his next stop, he’s supposed to be in Spain. In Cádiz.”

  CHAPTER 16

  HEART OF COLD

  WEDNESDAY, APRIL 26 (6:25 P.M. CHINA STANDARD TIME)

  KEELUNG CITY; EAST CHINA SEA

  At Calder’s request, the U.S. Navy hastily arranged an emergency pit stop at Keelung, a port city in northeastern Taiwan. It enabled Allie and him to hit the bathrooms before continuing to Australia.

  Fifteen minutes out of port, Hero was once again flying across open water at (according to Calder) some 450 knots. Allie, nestled in her seat and feeling wooden with fatigue, listened with half an ear to Eva rave about the mission’s success.

  “The Nielson ratings for this morning’s launch beat the Super Bowl. People are hooked. You guys are huge!”

  “What’s Stu saying?”

  “Oh, my god, he’s in hog heaven. In fact he’s letting other networks carry a few of your reports a day. He’s charging them a fortune.”

  Allie grinned and shook her head.

  Note to self: ask ol’ Stuey for a raise when I get back.

  “So I made the right choice by coming, huh?” Allie winced. “Oh, man, I’m sorry, chica; I’m sorry. I’m just tired.”

  There was silence; then Eva said, “Hey, the San Diego stranding is totally gone. That’s amazing, right?”

  “No, you’re amazing,” Allie said, waggling her head in self-reproach. “What about Nagasaki? Why didn’t they let us in? Is it what I’m thinking?”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “They didn’t want us barging in on the stranding because they’re fishing the poor whales, right?”

  “Like shooting birds in a bucket.”

  Allie didn’t have the energy to correct Eva’s butchered saying. “It’s disgusting.”

  “Yeah. And they’re using the latest technology to do it: factory ships, diesel-powered whale catchers, everything. It’s criminal. The whales don’t stand a chance. Planet First and some other groups are threatening to take them to international court. We’ve got a camera crew at The Hague waiting to get it on tape for the special.”

  “Awesome. What about the Kilroy story?”

  “Nothing new. The computers are still flying off the shelves; his family wants to commit him; and the little sh—the little punk’s assistant isn’t returning my calls for a second interview. But I’m not giving up.”

  Allie managed a tired smile.

  The original pit bull.

  “Anyway,” Eva said, “that’s it for now. Everything’s fine; I’m on top of things. Get some rest; you sound tired.”

  “I had a long nap just before getting to Nagasaki. But it’s hard sleeping in this cha
ir and my mind’s totally in a fog from all the time zones. But I’ll be fine. Thanks for everything, chica. I mean it. Dulce sueños, okay? I know it’s really late where you are.”

  “What’s the latest?” Calder asked as soon as she signed off.

  She filled him in on the mission’s popularity and apparent success in San Diego.

  “Great. Why don’t you try grabbing some winks; it’s a long way to Australia.”

  “I wish I could,” she said, stifling a yawn. “I’ll try.”

  Allie closed her eyes but after several futile minutes gave up.

  She looked outside. Since leaving San Diego, Hero had been traveling in the same direction as the sun, which meant they had experienced only daylight. But as they sped southward to Australia, the reddening orb was falling into the Pacific Ocean like a stone. Several hours later the first star appeared in the darkening sky.

  “Hey, Calder, make a wish.”

  “What?” His voice sounded tired.

  “Star light, star bright . . .”

  He chuckled weakly. “Wow, I haven’t heard that since I was a kid.”

  She waited in vain for him to elaborate.

  “So . . . you grew up in Seville? You don’t look Spanish.”

  It took him a while to answer.

  “I’m half Spanish—on my mom’s side. My dad was British.”

  “Oh, really? My maternal great-grandfather was supposedly from Seville,” she said. “One day I want to go there and find out. I hear it’s a beautiful city.” She added, “You speak the language?”

  Again, silence.

  “Sí, muy bien,” he said finally—with a surprisingly good accent.

  “Wow, that’s great,” she laughed. “I like speaking Spanglish because it helps me stay grounded. I never want to forget where I came from, you know? I love my East LA roots. I love my family.”

  She fought away worrying thoughts of Lolo and her mom.

  Moments later she realized Calder hadn’t said anything to keep the conversation going.

  Argh! It’s like pulling teeth.

  “What was it like growing up in Seville?”

  “Good and bad.”