Gaia Dreams (Gaiaverse Book 1)

by Pamela Davis

  Gaia Dreams

  by

  Pamela Davis

  Copyright 2011 by Pamela Davis

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction.

  Any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, characters, events, locations, or businesses is purely coincidental.

  This book is dedicated to

  Nathan and Brianna,

  my son and daughter.

  Chapter 1

  Kalahari Desert, Africa

  Tiknay lay flat on the dusty ground, sun baking her dark brown skin in ninety degree heat. Her face was still, hands clenching sandy dirt by her sides. The wailing voice she had heard for months was changing. A new tonality was surging through the vibrations of the music of the earth. The woman trembled as she sensed rage in the defiant tones. What did it mean?

  She had heard the music all her life. It was there as she gathered the mongongo nuts and it was there in her dreams. The pulsing constant voice of the earth changed in its tones like the rhythm of seasons, but she had never been afraid. Even when the voice had changed dramatically in the past few months to the eerie keening wail, she had not been afraid. The voice of the earth told her through the years about animals who were dying and warned her of poisoned water her people could not drink, so she could understand the music of grief that wound itself around her body and mind day and night. The wail mirrored her feelings as she watched her tribe dwindle in numbers. It accompanied her delivering misshapen babies who lived only for minutes, watching the young men leave the tribe for the new ways of the white man and his paper money. Still, there had been no fear in the old woman of the tribe until today. She had performed the dances and sung the songs meant to heal the earth, but she had no remedy for the rage she heard now.

  The old woman rose slowly and walked back to her hut. She knew this anger was not directed at her people, but she also knew they were in danger. She must persuade the tribe to travel far away from the ones who caused this. Something terrible was about to happen.

  Salmon Creek, Idaho

  "I guess you could say I was there at the very beginning. Well, maybe not at the beginning, more like the beginning of the end. But I sure was there on duty at my station the night Miss Maria got the call that sent her flying outta here like all the bats of hell were nipping at her heels. That's how I knew she was onto the biggest story of her career. Guess it turned out to be the biggest story of all time, didn't it? But how I knew this was she practically threw her keys at me and tore out of that revolving door so fast it just flew around a couple of times after she was gone. And that's how I knew, 'cause she never left on a story without a smile at me and saying, 'Wish me luck Fred and water the plants please!' Even when there was that scare in the Mideast about a nuclear bomb, even then she still smiled and asked for luck. But not this time, no sir, she just ran.

  "And another thing was she looked scared, and she never looked scared before that night. She's got that kind of skin that always looks tan, but that night it was like it had turned white underneath. Yep, it was a scared look and that scared me 'cause I know she knows things before almost anyone else. She'd have to, being the best damn reporter SNN ever had! And her so young and pretty. Have you ever seen hair so dark brown and shiny like satin and her eyes? Why they're that kind of brown that is almost black--but it doesn't matter if she is the prettiest reporter they've got, she is still the best and they always call her first when anything big is happening.

  "So when she left, I reached under the counter and turned on my little TV set. I always said even if a doorman is on duty he still needs to know what's going on 'cause people are always asking, 'Hey, Fred, what's going on?' and I liked to be able to tell them the very latest.

  "So I kept an eye on SNN, but sure enough that night there wasn't any news right away. It was probably an hour before there was anything about California, which is probably how long it took for Miss Maria to get to the station and get it all figured out for them down there. Of course, it turned out to be an even bigger story than Maria Santiago could handle by herself."

  Sonoran Desert, Arizona

  Sometimes Margaret thought her sole purpose in life was to provide amusement for the cosmos. What she had discovered in the stark, sandy beauty of the Arizona desert was hard for her to believe. It also scared her to death. She had known for a week a major earthquake was going to hit California--who would want that kind of knowledge? Earlier in the week she had tried to convince various people in positions of authority that the quake was coming. But no one had believed her. She was left with her dreams of the dead, knowing she was powerless to stop the carnage that was coming. The involvement of crop circles added just the right note of insanity. It was so ludicrous and so awful, tears and laughter had caught her unexpectedly all week. Tonight would be the beginning.

  Kalahari Desert, Africa

  "Did they say why they were leaving?" Alex asked, tossing her waist-length braid over her shoulder.

  "No, they won't talk. It's maddening," said Nathan. "A year of research down the drain because they decide to stop talking to us and move away."

  Alexandra Hobson and Nathan Ames had spent a year, which was the beginning of a five year study, taking detailed histories of this tribe of Kung. They were following in the footsteps of other anthropology research groups who had come to the Kalahari Desert to study an indigenous people who still lived a true hunter-gatherer lifestyle. Their interactions with this tribe had gone well, in part due to their intense study of the language before arriving in the desert. Alex was thrilled when the oldest woman of the tribe, Tiknay, who appeared to function as a healer, seemed eager to share her knowledge. Nathan's work with the men of the tribe had not gone as easily, but he felt he was making progress every day. Then today the old woman came to their tents announcing, "We are leaving," and had walked away. When Alex ran after her, she refused to talk. Nathan had just come back from questioning the men, who told him nothing.

  "I don't know what's going on, Alex," said Nathan. "They looked at me like I was the enemy. Definite animosity in their posture toward me."

  "Well, I'm not just going to give up," said Alex. "Come on. Pack up your gear. We're going to follow them until they agree to at least talk to us."

  SNN Headquarters, Atlanta, Georgia

  Under the icy calm that Maria exuded was sheer terror. Please let them live, please let them be alive, she prayed over and over. They're my parents, always there for me, so strong nothing could hurt them--could it? No way. Impossible. They're fine, they have to be fine. Please, please, please let them be okay, let them be safe.

  "Maria!" yelled Phoebe. "I've got you on military transport leaving in forty-five minutes with Zack."

  "Phoebes, you're an angel. I'm voting you secretary of the year," said Maria. "How did you ever finagle this for me? Never mind, I don't need to know."

  "Did you eat anything on your way in?" Phoebe asked. "You know how you get airsick if you fly on an empty stomach."

  Maria smiled ruefully. "Are you kidding, Phoebe? What would I have grabbed to eat from my refrigerator? All I have in there are onions and cucumbers, and I don't even like cucumbers!"

  "Don't worry, boss, I'll have the commissary send up your favorite."

  "Thanks, I'll be in Bob's office," Maria said as she left Phoebe dialing for food. Please, please let them be alive. They have to be okay, they sacrificed so much for me, oh God, please let them live.

  "It's coming over the fax now," Bob Rutherford, her producer, was saying to Zack as she walked into her producer's office.

  "What is?" Maria asked.

  "Info on the quake from the USGS about the magnitude--initial estimate only," replied Bob.
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  Hands shaking, Maria ripped the page from the fax machine. The paper felt like a bomb as she stared at it, unable to comprehend the symbols on its slick surface.

  "Well?" Bob asked. "What are we looking at? Is it the big one?"

  She thrust the paper at Zack Tyler, her cameraman, who looked at her quizzically, then read. "USGS unofficial estimate, blah, blah, oh, here it is, oh my god--9.8? I didn't think that high a number was even possible!"

  Maria sank into the black leather chair in front of Bob's desk. No, no, no, please no, she thought.

  Sonoran Desert, Arizona

  Margaret found herself thinking about how she ended up in the desert, sitting under the stars with a Navajo shaman. It had taken years in therapy with Dr. Grainger to understand and accept a horrific childhood and its effects on her life. Dr. Grainger had encouraged her explorations of alternative healing methods, so perhaps this visit to a Native American wouldn't seem so strange to him. But even good old Dr. Grainger would have labeled her crazy this last year. Had life ever been simple and normal for her? Not really.

  Margaret Larson, attorney-at-law, graduate of Columbia Law (with honors). Law school had been torture for Margaret. She had expected black and white in the law, good or bad, right or wrong, all clearly delineated in the law. Instead, all she found was gray--umpteen different shades of gray. She was encouraged to argue any issue, any question, from both sides. It became a game when she went out with friends, every topic argued endlessly among them. And Margaret played the game like an expert. Adjusting herself to accommodate any perspective was something she'd learned as a child as a way to survive a severely dysfunctional family.

  However, the panic came more and more often--that fluttery feeling in her throat, like her heart, had decided to change location and imitate the wings of a hummingbird in her chest. After graduation, Dr. Grainger entered the picture. It took quite a while to face the emotional and sexual abuse of her early life. It took even longer to move beyond the flashbacks, the horrid memories that bubbled up to the surface, triggered by some simple, small, every day event. Falling while walking across her bedroom. Nothing in her way, just one minute she was walking, and the next she was sprawled in a tangle of limbs that seemed to belong to someone else.

  Science fiction, in movies and books, was always her escape. She liked to think that we were all put here by some alien species, a student's lab experiment. Studying crop circle formations seemed like a natural outgrowth of her interests, such an innocent pastime at first. Margaret felt drawn to the unnatural circles found by farmers in their fields. If aliens were not causing the crop circles, then what was? Following discussions about this phenomenon on the internet, Margaret educated herself. Her vacation time eventually was spent on trips to locations around the world to see the evidence. The puzzle of the crop circles first amused, and then intrigued her.

  A year ago, she became fed up with the legal mumbo-jumbo of her career and decided to focus her energies on herself. To her law firm's amazement, Margaret distributed her work among the other partners and walked away without looking back. In her reading on healing, she was most often drawn to beliefs found among Native Americans. As she made the decision to move to the Southwest, Margaret didn't tell her friends about the recent increase in crop circles in that area. She told herself it was something she might investigate if she had the time.

  Kalahari Desert, Africa

  "Alex, slow down!" yelled Nathan as his head banged into the metal strut of the jeep's rooftop.

  "If you hadn't taken so long to get your things together, I wouldn't have to be driving so fast," she replied curtly.

  Nathan glared at her, but clamped his jaws shut so he wouldn't bite his tongue on the next jolt of the jeep as it traveled over the rough terrain. There weren't any real roads in the area they were searching. Alex's remark stung, the latest in a series of criticisms. "She is so impulsive," he thought. "Probably would have started on this adventure without checking any of our supplies, and then where would we be? Stranded somewhere in the desert without food or water. But does she think of any of that? No-o-o, no that would mean she'd become a reasonable person who gave some thought to her next action, and if that ever happens, I'll die from the sheer shock of it--that is, if I don't die in this jeep first."

  Nathan and Alex had known each other for two years. Their relationship was one of constant fluctuation due to diametrically opposing personality types. Nathan was organized and thoughtful, reflecting on any decision before making a move. Alex was scattered, jumping into things, functioning on an intuitive level most of the time, following her impulses, which were usually correct. Both were brilliant in their field, and their qualities dovetailed into a working relationship that gave them both some balance. It also created heated debates over how to best proceed in any situation. The saving grace that kept them working together was that they had learned to compromise...sometimes.

  "How could they have moved so quickly?" Nathan wondered aloud as he looked for some sign of the tribe on the horizon.

  "Maybe they don't have a need to carry every single belonging with them when they travel, unlike some people I know," Alex replied. "Was the guitar absolutely vital?"

  "Alexandra, give it a rest," Nathan said.

  Alex glowered at him and opened her mouth to retort when Nathan yelled, "Hey! Over there, see that dust? It must be them. Why aren't they stopping? They can see us coming."

  "Obviously, they don't want to talk to us. Somebody must have done something to upset them," Alex said.

  "If anybody upset them, Alex, it was you with your constant questions about sexual promiscuity. Ow!" Nathan said as Alex punched him in the arm. "Okay, okay, truce. We've got to figure this out. I really don't want to end up on the receiving end of one of those spears." The Kung hunted using spears tipped with poisoned arrows. The poison acted on the central nervous system of the animal while hunters tracked it. The animal died over a two-day period. Arrows were carefully guarded in camp to prevent accidental poisoning of any tribal member.

  "Nathan, you don't think they would attack us, do you?" Alex asked, incredulous. "None of the researchers studying the Kung have ever been attacked. Why, they are one of the most peaceful people on earth!"

  Brushing tousled, sun-bleached-blond hair back from his forehead, Nathan shrugged and said, "I don't know. All I'm sure of is this behavior we are witnessing today is not usual for them."

  Tiknay heard the jeep's engine for several minutes before it appeared. She knew it was pointless to try and avoid them, but she wasn't sure what she could tell the two young white people. They came from a culture different than hers, and their beliefs were not those of the tribe. She knew they did not believe in the visions of her people; how would they understand the changes that were coming? She joined the rest of the tribe to discuss what should be done.

  SNN Headquarters, Atlanta, Georgia

  Maria stared at the plate of scrambled eggs with cheese wrapped in a flour tortilla, salsa on the side. Her mother fixed this breakfast for her almost every school day. They would sit together at the Formica-topped kitchen table, her mother sipping the strong black coffee she loved so much, and they would have "girl talk." Consuela Santiago was a diminutive, lively woman, determined to see her daughter succeed in America. She and Jorge, Maria's father, had immigrated to the U.S. from Mexico one year before Maria's birth. She was their only child and they worked hard to give her everything she would need to make her mark in the world. They still lived in the suburb of Los Angeles where they had raised Maria.

  "Oh Mama, where are you?" Maria said as she dialed the number again and heard the recording say the lines were out of order.

  Cape Fair, Missouri

  Behind the big stone house, the mountain peak disappeared in a mass of dark clouds. A waterfall could be heard but not seen. Harry knew it was there. He'd visited it lots of times with Samantha. She had oohed and ahhed and told Harry it was their very own secret place. Could that be where Samantha had
gone today? He didn't think so. Harry walked back to the gray stone house, the house that was his home. It was a big, rambling two-story with apple and cherry trees growing in the back yard. The sound the apples made as they fell to the ground in the wind and rain today bothered Harry. It was as if the plopping apples were gigantic raindrops slamming into the soaked, black earth.

  Harry didn't like it outside anymore and took off running for the house as lightning stabbed the ground. He knew the house was snug and warm with a fire in the fireplace and his own favorite blue rag rug waiting for him to stretch out on.

  "Harry! Come on in boy, you'll get chilled in this storm," called Samantha's mother, Jessica. Into the hole in the door Harry ran. "Ah, warm house, dry air, a dog couldn't have a better place to live," Harry thought.

  He had lived with the Samuels family for six years. Jessica Samuels had always wanted a golden retriever. She told her husband John when they moved to the stone house in Cape Fair, Missouri that she wanted a retriever and a child, in that order. Jessica was a fairly organized and determined woman who believed in creating her own reality. So it was no surprise to John that Harry the dog and Samantha the child were both settled in at the stone house within a year of their moving in.

  They had decided to move to the small town nestled in the Ozarks as a compromise. Jessica's parents were in San Francisco, and John's mother and sister lived in New York City. Missouri seemed about halfway between the two families, and they had been charmed by Cape Fair when passing through once on a vacation. The Ozark Mountains were one of the most unheralded, naturally beautiful places either one had ever seen. Heavily forested, the rolling hills contained a variety of small towns located near lakes or small rivers. Cape Fair was located on Table Rock Lake, fifty minutes from Springfield, the closest large city, and twenty minutes from Branson, the entertainment capital of the region.