The Prophecies Trilogy (Omnibus Edition): A Dystopian Adventure

by Linda Hawley

  The vision ceased suddenly, and I desperately gasped for air as though I’d been held underwater. I choked back tears as I tried to breathe deep, trying to slurp the natural power of the falls into my soul, as though I were a vessel waiting to be filled.

  “Why, why, why!” I screamed. “If all this evil was to come, then why did you have us do it?” I yelled, questioning the universe. “We were the Wisdom Keepers, responsible for protecting mankind from themselves! We were given the keys to set things right and the power to cause this,” I called out, begging for understanding.

  The anguish I felt for all the dead—the millions who were yet to die—caused excruciating pain that tore my heart apart. As my ears drew into the pounding falls, a peace began to seed itself within me, and with my next breath, I felt the oxygen-rich air hit my very soul. It was then that another vision opened up to me.

  I saw wise people throughout the world—today—realize what’s to come, and they began to plant. Now. They knew that a storm was brewing, and they prepared themselves. They not only planted seeds, but they collected water and pooled their resources into small groups. They shared what they had. They talked and bartered with one another. They visited with each other on their front porches as the sun set. These wise souls were resourceful. In this world to come, natural leaders—who were pure of heart—emerged. These would be the leaders of the next generation; these were the leaders and organizers who would right the wrongs of our generation. This is what mankind was meant to be. This was utopia. This was why the world was reset.

  Peace filled my vessel, and I felt light. The box inside me was empty, and I saw it float away.

  Then I heard a voice. “Sweetheart…you believed…just as I knew you would.”

  I collapsed backward in the cave, the rock rising up to collide with my skull.

  Epilogue

  The Year 2016

  Chow and Edwin found my body in the cave, the shroud of death hovering near. The blood that saturated my hair convinced them that I’d suffered a concussion. They took turns carrying me back to camp as I mumbled incessantly about a new world and a need to plant food.

  They put me in the back of the only car that ran—the Land Rover—and after filling it with our security forces, scrambled back to the safe house. Vanessa was pleased to drive. The rest of the team packed up the horses and headed back as well.

  It took three days for my brain to right itself, and the team nursed me back to health. By the fourth day, I was up and about and asking what had happened. I remembered everything from the cave but had no memory of the four days I was unconscious. Somehow, I felt altered. There was a gentle tenderness that had rooted within me, and everything that was dark or painful was simply gone. I kept trying to explain it to my team members, but I failed every time. Finally, I gave up trying and instead felt grateful for the change in me.

  I’d been sleeping on the couch in the living room at the insistence of the medic, so he could keep an eye on me, but on the fifth day, he cleared me to sleep in my own bed.

  In my bedroom, all three Herkimers lay together on my nightstand, and it comforted me. As I fell into my real bed, snuggling down into it, I easily and quickly drifted off to sleep.

  I found myself on the Woohoo with Armond in the San Juan Islands. It was the middle of the night, and we were sleeping peacefully in the bow, snuggled together in our double sleeping bag. Elinor slept on the long cushion on the starboard side of the main cabin. The sailboat rocked gently with the tide.

  I awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in the V-berth, hitting my head in the process.

  “Are you okay?” Armond asked sleepily as he peered up at me.

  “I had a horrible dream. We were skiing on Mount Baker, and I couldn’t find you anywhere.” It felt as though I’d had the dream before.

  “Oh, come here, it’s okay, babe,” he said, pulling me close.

  “This was a warning,” I said in his ear, remembering the eerie dream.

  He pulled away, looking into my face, where tears flowed down.

  “It’s gonna be okay, Ann. It’s gonna be okay,” he reassured me, kissing my tears away.

  “No. It’s not,” I said forcefully.

  He pulled me tight to him as I began to sob uncontrollably. I gasped for air as the dream wracked my conscious. Images of Armond caught in an avalanche mixed with a scene of him on a stretcher, and his last words. “The Herkimer,” he’d said. “Believe…”

  “Oh my goodness,” I said, pulling away, enlightened.

  Armond looked at me, alarmed.

  “You must promise me something,” I said, serious.

  “Anything, my love.”

  “You must not ski this year,” I said, hoping he’d listen.

  “Done.”

  “Just like that?” I asked.

  “Just like that. I believe you,” he said, kissing my mouth fully. I kissed him back, passionately.

  As I woke from the dream, I opened my eyes, and they fell upon the bedroom door of the Texas safe house. I felt Armond’s lost kiss still upon my lips.

  Moving my hands to my face, I felt the tears that had soaked my cheeks. The dream still fresh, I sniffled.

  I heard a soft sound from behind me. I turned around to look.

  “Are you okay?” Armond asked, brushing his short brown hair out of his face as he sleepily rose onto his arm.

  My tears burst forth from the dam that had held them captive since I’d lost him on that mountain so many years ago. Aching sobs erupted from me as I reached my hands out to touch his face. I was compelled to verify that he was here—alive—in 2016. My hands shook as they landed upon his warm face. I gasped as I looked into his steely gray eyes, which had also filled with tears. He eagerly snatched me, pulling me to him as pure electricity flowed through us both. As I shook in heaves of weeping, euphoria radiated throughout my entire being.

  Armond pulled me to him and laid his sweet lips upon mine, passionate. My body responded as though we’d been separated a thousand years.

  * * *

  The solar flares continued for a year, throwing every country back to the pre-industrial revolution. We were pioneers again, but it was the year 2016.

  * * *

  Hand in hand, Armond and I hiked through the mountains of São Paulo, Brazil. We moved a bit slower, now that we were much older.

  “Ooh, I just had a déjà vu moment,” I said to Armond, stopping and facing him.

  “What was it?” he asked me.

  “Remember the dreams where you watched over me and guided me when I needed you most?” I asked him.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “It felt like that.”

  He pulled me to him, our bodies pressed together, and kissed me. “It was you who believed, you know.”

  I looked into his eyes and softly moved my hands to his face. “And it was you, my love, whose spirit never left mine.”

  We stood there, at the mouth of the shaman’s cave, held in a warm embrace.

  Then we turned, hand in hand, and entered together.

  We would return the three phantom Herkimer diamonds to this sacred cave, where perhaps mankind could use them again in another time, to save humanity from itself.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Linda Hawley is a published author of several novels in the dystopian science fiction genre.

  Before she became a full-time author, Linda Hawley supported herself as a freelance writer. Her experiences working on diverse projects requiring significant research stretched and refined her composition skills. It also inspired her to become a novelist.

  The author writes her novels in the “faction” style (a literary work that is a mix of fact and fiction). Most of the technologies, conditions, and places in her novels actually exist. It's the characters and their actions that are pure fiction.

  Before becoming a writer, the author spent many years in the U.S. intelligence community. This experience helps her today in creating suspense, perspective, and colorful
characters that jump off the page.

  Linda Hawley has made her home in the Pacific Northwest, where she and her husband parent their two youngest children.

  THE AUTHOR’S VIEWS

  In The Prophecies Trilogy, I’ve created a dystopian world, where government control trumps all citizens’ rights. In interviews I’ve given since the first book was published, I’ve often been pressed about my political views. Until now, I’ve never explained my perspective on the issues I’ve written about in The Prophecies. By opening up about my views on government control, tracking humans, excessive taxation, and other dystopian issues, I hope that you will consider your own opinion and talk about it with at least one other human being. By initiating a dialogue, I hope that we can begin to change our world.

  Since that horrible day in U.S. history, 9-11, America’s leaders have been making mistake after mistake in our policies, laws, and military decisions. One example is the Patriot Act, which was signed into law by Congress and President Bush in 2001. That it was conceived, written, introduced, voted for, and signed forty-five days after 9-11 makes it one of the speediest laws ever passed in American history. There are only two ways it could have been written in such a short amount of time:

  1. It was already written.

  2. It was written by a dedicated team, such as a lobbyist group.

  Think about that.

  With the stroke of a pen on October 26th, the Patriot Act became permanent law, and in that moment, three American rights were lost.

  1. Without probable cause, the U.S. government can search and seize the papers and effects of any American.

  2. Without any trial, the U.S. government can indefinitely jail any American.

  3. Without suspecting criminal activity, the U.S. government can monitor political and religious institutions.

  The Frosting on the Patriot Act was the passage of the National Defense Authorization Act, a federal law quietly signed by President Obama on December 31, 2011, while America was distracted with ringing in a new year. The NDAA defines the whole United States as a battlefield and gives our military the authority to arrest and hold any American indefinitely, without any charge, nor any right to a lawyer. As though passing it wasn’t bad enough, Congress voted again to refund it through Fiscal Year 2013.

  The Patriot Act and the NDAA are not the only laws that have destroyed the rights of the American people.

  Right now in the USA, you can own more than ten acres of land and yet have no right to farm it, because of local laws preventing you from doing so. Yes, you heard right—you can own land but cannot use it for your livelihood. In The Prophecies, I’ve sometimes mentioned chickens. I must admit, I really do adore those funny creatures. There are many places in Washington State where you cannot own a single chicken (even two or three hens for eggs) on ten acres of land. Local governments are setting those laws, usually through a city council, and you—the landowner—have no right to appeal. City councils throughout the United States are creating annexation plans as I write this, where they decide what new land, homes, and farms they will bring into the city, forcing their laws upon them. They do this for one single purpose—to bring new taxes into their local system. Taxation by local government is so obnoxious that in some locals, you cannot change out a single window in the home you own without first paying a hefty fee to get a permit. In America, local government has become business, where profits are pursued at the expense of their citizens. The excessive control of local government is a plague that is hurting its citizens. It’s big brother in our business, and they do not belong there. It’s simply wrong.

  Excessive taxation of the working class is nothing new to the world. The Romans did it, greatly contributing to the fall of Rome. The British Empire did it to the thirteen colonies, fueling the American Revolution. Now America itself does it within its own borders. America has become what we resented the British for.

  Every example of taxation written into The Prophecies series is based upon real life examples that I personally have knowledge of. In most of America today, property owners receive a bill for a perpetual tax on their home, land, or farm. The amount of this tax is decided upon by your locality, using a rate invented by the taxing locality themselves. There is no true appeal process. This is in addition to federal income tax, state tax, sales tax on things you buy, and a host of other taxes. Excessive taxation in America is an epidemic that is destroying the American Dream.

  The loss of individual freedoms has extended far beyond American borders. As of the date of this writing, there are 72 countries around the world who track their citizens’ movement through biometric passports, which include RFID chips. All of the RFID technology I’ve written about in The Prophecies either exists today or is actively in development. Many countries also track their citizens through RFID in their ID cards or driver’s licenses. Some of these countries have also collected biometric data on their citizens and married that data with RFID technology. (Google the country of India and biometric data and see what you find.) Tracking citizens on a broad scale is an example of how power throughout the world has shifted from the people to governments. It’s a quiet, global crisis, and it’s happening right now.

  This only skims the surface of the dystopian world we are becoming in 2012. What you do with this knowledge now is up to you. You do, after all, have your own free will.

  Thank you for reading The Prophecies and for pondering the story.

  Linda Hawley

  P.S.

  The threat of EMPs is scary stuff. An EMP can originate from a nuclear blast, an EMP-bomb, a solar storm, or by our own sun erupting at the surface. An EMP can (or will) disrupt the way of life we’ve come to rely upon.

  THE PROPHECIES TRILOGY

  To view insider’s tidbits, read an interview with the author, and ask questions about the series, visit:LindaHawley.com

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  linda@lindahawley.com