by Nico Augusto
SEASONS OF HEAVEN
Nico Augusto
Based on a true story…
PREFACE
I began writing this novel two years ago and I’ve since come to discover that writing one’s first novel is a huge event in a person’s life that will always be looked back upon as a turning point. It’s been said that writing a novel is like giving birth and releasing it is like turning your precious child out into the world to fend for itself. It’s all at once exciting and nerve wracking. I’ve always wanted to write about the things I’ve been privileged to experience in my life, my obsession with things that are unseen in this world, yet impact us at almost every turn.
I started working in the field of paranormal research ten years ago as a lonely investigator. I’ve spent many nights alone, deep in the woods. I’ve stayed in ruins and “haunted” places all across Europe, and although I can’t say without a doubt that ghosts do exist, I have to give credence to the fact that there is something there, possibly something that has yet to be identified. I’ve met many people who have witnessed strange and unusual events and were so affected by them that my own life was changed by their testimony. It caused me to begin asking a lot of questions about the world we live in, questions that have tugged at the souls of man for centuries. Questions like who and what we are, and why are we here? The age old question of what is the meaning of this life we’re living really hit home for me on April 8, 2012 and sent me out on a journey of self-discovery.
I’ve always believed that the animals that inhabit this earth alongside of us are equal to us as spiritual beings. They need us, but we need them as well. I also found out that suffering the loss of a beloved pet can be as heart-wrenching and devastating as the loss of a human loved one.
My wife and I adopted a puppy. He was a French bulldog and his name was Ani. When the original owner told us that he was having trouble finding a good family to adopt him because he was sick with a disease known as pulmonary stenosis we decided to adopt him right away. We took care of him and watched over him and we also developed a deep, strong bond with him. When I worked from home, he would lay on my knees and as he was drawing comfort from me, I was drawing it from him as well. We loved him as any person might love a child or their best friend.
One morning Ani was no longer able to walk. We rushed him to the animal hospital and while he was under anesthesia, because of his breathing problems, he passed away. The gamut of emotions that we went through following that is almost indescribable. Life is so unfair, and the good ones always seem to go first. I was angry and sad. I started having bad thoughts about myself and I had such a hard time getting past the unfairness of it all. I would have done anything to have him back, and I know that I’m not the first person to experience a loss like this, one that leaves its imprint on your life forever. I couldn’t bring him back; I’m not Dr. Frankenstein although at the time, I wished that I were. I don’t believe in zombies although I do believe there are many things in this world not apparent to the eyes alone. As I grieved, and my mind considered the solutions, I came up with only three options.
There was suicide with the hopes of being reunited in another place. There was acceptance and there was moving forward with life. I chose the last one finally and in doing so it allowed me to begin a story where I could channel my grief and preserve my memories. My little buddy would be the center of it, and the things that I learned in my quest for answers would surround him.
You’ll discover in this huge story that everything in it was inspired by true facts, places and events. You’ll hopefully begin to open your mind to the fact that this world we live in is not as quiet as you may have believed. As you read my story, I’d like to ask you to believe that there is nothing in this world more beautiful than respect and love.
I am dedicating this book to Ani, Leia and Obi.
To my wife who was always there.
To my family Mama, Dad, Anthon and Laura.
To Julien and his dearly departed mother
And to all of the people on this planet who have lost someone.
Prologue
New world
2047
As the new day dawned the rays of the sun cut through the early morning mist and lit up the tenebrific land. The beginnings of new, green foliage peeked out from amidst the concrete and steel and the deeply rooted trees struggled to survive. The rest of the world that had stood for centuries now lay in ruins. Pieces of structures still stood here and there, a testament to their construction…but the roofs are rotting and the glass is long gone from the windows. Doors are missing or hanging by rusty and rotted hinges. Molded, festering piles of rubble litter what is left of crumbling sidewalks and the smell of putrid rot hangs thickly in the air. Brittle bones left over from those who used to live here are strewn about the dusty ground, effectively turning what used to be a busy, main boulevard into a virtual graveyard for the unburied dead. They lay still now, whereas before they had shuffled like zombies from place to place giving no heed to the very things they needed to survive. As the bones turned to ash, those responsible for this devastation are returned to the very soil that their kind had trampled and disrespected for centuries.
Handfuls of survivors still live scattered throughout the universe. They do not mourn for civilization because that would be akin to mourning the very thing that caused the ruination. For centuries humanity lived as though they were the higher power. They plundered the valuable resources of the earth as if they were infinite. They stripped and polluted it as they took more than they needed and threw the rest away. There was little to no thought of the future and the horrors that would come once their vital resources were depleted.
The strongest animals still roamed the desolate planet, seeking food and struggling to survive. Much of the bright new foliage brought in on the wings of the wind had already been crushed by the constantly crumbling concrete that still stands. But, although the task of surviving has become a daunting one, it’s not impossible thanks to the omnipotence of nature. Now that the earth is shed of what wreaked havoc upon it, she will continue to replenish herself until once again she stands strong in her center of the universe because nature will always survive.
The red brick and mortar tip of a cathedral with dark gray smoke curling up above it and blending with the azure blue of the sky is visible to the east, as if to prove that the colors of nature do not need the artificial colors of humanity for emphasis. The sky has a surreal quality to it and it is more beautiful than the canvas of the most brilliant artist.
If one didn’t know the year they might look around and think they were visiting earth during the seventeenth century before modern civilization took hold. Across from the cathedral where busy buildings once stood was now a make-shift camp for survivors. It’s a well-organized camp thanks to one of the stronger survivors who was willing to take charge. Tired and ragged humans gathered around the constantly burning campfire and warmed themselves in between the business of surviving. Seven people sat there now discussing not for the first time the atrocities of what has become of their lives. They do this often, occasionally bickering amongst themselves about who is to blame, but most often ending up agreeing that it could have all been avoided if only people hadn’t realized their greed too late.
The man who was courageous and kind enough to take charge of the group speaks gently to the others and offers as much motivation as he can to keep their morale up.
“I need a group of you to go out and forage for food,” he told them. “Bring back whatever you can find that might be edible and we’ll go through it together. We’ll need fresh water too. You four will be in group one,” he indicated one side of the group with a wave of his arm and went on to say, “Go now so you can be back bef
ore nightfall.” He looked towards the other side of the ragtag group and said, “Group two I’ll need you to scavenge for useful objects for camp. We need supplies to build more appropriate structures to protect us from the weather.”
As the adults readied themselves to leave the camp and take on their assignments, two small girls played in the background. One of them had on a blue jacket that is much too long in the sleeves and it is coated with dust. Her face is grimy and her hair dull…but the bright blue of her eyes is like looking directly into the ocean. The other little girl is about five and her face still clings to the baby fat that forms her chubby cheeks. She’s clutching what looks like a small bow and arrow set.
While the girl with the blue eyes played with the remnants of toys and chattered to her friend about the hopes of finding a doll to play with, the other child looked off into the distance with a focused gaze. The wind was blowing through the fine hairs that surrounded her cherubic face and if anyone was watching it might appear as if time had stood still for a moment. As the earth stirred around these two children, it seemed to struggle against further collapse.
The small child saw something that intrigued her off in the distance. It’s an animal of some sort but she wasn’t sure of its name. She vaguely recalled seeing a photo of one in a book…before the world collapsed. They used to populate the forests but like everything else, humanity had depleted them one by one. She raised the bow and laid one of her arrows against the string. Standing very still and quiet she began to draw back with her arm and time world went silent around her. She was on the verge of launching the arrow when she was suddenly startled by the sound of the leader’s voice,
“Stop! Don’t do that!” She slowly lowered her weapon and pointed it at the ground before turning toward him. “Why would you want to kill her? She’s the first one we’ve seen in a very long time.” he asked.
Confused the little girl said, “We have to eat, right?”
“We don’t eat animals any longer. It’s been years since we have. Killing them will bring harm to those of us left here trying to survive.”
Still torn, the girl said, “I’m sorry. I just thought, maybe…”
The man noticed how upset she was and putting his arm on her small back he said, “It’s okay honey, don’t be upset. But please remember that we can’t eat them anymore. We don’t kill them. We were never supposed to.”
“I’m so ashamed to even think about it…Dad. How was it then…really? Will you tell me? Nobody will talk about it. Please tell me what it was like…and how my mother died.”
The man looked uncomfortable, but the eyes of his little girl pled with him.
“Okay honey, we’ll talk tonight. I’ll tell you everything I can. Deal?”
The little girl smiled up at her father. “Deal. Thank you Dad, I love you.” He smiled back at her and then she looked around and said, “Hey, where’s Nina?”
“Don’t worry; she’s around somewhere,” her father said, “Look there.”
The little girl followed her father’s outstretched arm with her eyes. He was pointing towards the animal…the deer. Nina was standing next to it and gently stroking her tiny fingers through its dark brown fur. He was regal looking with a massive six-point rack and his size dwarfed the blue-eyed child…but he stood calmly and gave her nothing to fear.
“Nina? Let him go. Don’t mess with him…” the other little girl was suddenly afraid the massive deer had seen her aiming her arrow at him. What if he wanted to get revenge by hurting Nina? She’d heard many stories about the animals seeking their revenge on the human survivors for what was done to them in the past.
“He’s so sweet. I love him,” Nina said. “He’s talking to me, Ana! Do you know what he’s saying?” Ana watched the dark brown deer walk away from Nina and disappear back into the forest. A small pool of almost invisible pollen floated in the air behind him and the man watched it thinking that nature was always at work. The small girl walked back over towards the camp. She looked like she wanted to follow the deer, but the forest around them is dense and dangerous and the girls know not to enter it.
“Girls, come on,” their father called to them. “Do me a favor and go grab some wood. It’s time to make some food and get camp ready for the night. Later I’ll tell you a story, I guess…”
*********
As night began to fall the brilliance of the sun and blue sky was replaced by a matte charcoal black sky covered in thousands of bright, silver specks. Star after star danced across the moon and the flickering flames of the fire fought to cut through the darkness the moon and stars were unable to reach.
The sounds of singing floated across the expanse of the campsite. The words the man was singing were designed for the purpose of incanting souls from another dimension. After the extinction the brains of the survivors had begun to evolve. The rationalism and speciesism began to disappear and human kind began to rely heavily on their instincts as their ancestors had. Looking back in history as far as Descartes, the skeptical rationalism of the brain was introduced and encouraged. Science advanced daily and the humans began to believe they were growing ever closer to being as powerful as God.
The result of that was forgetting their place amongst the other living creatures that roamed the earth. For four centuries civilization continued to push forward and humans concentrated on building a world only for themselves. Today, things were different. The survivors learned from the demise of the others. The singer is the leader of the group and he is now the equivalent of what used to be known as a Shaman.
The man and his two girls sat down around the fire pit. He called them in close and said, “Today was a special day, my girls.”
“Why pap?” Nina asked.
“I’m so sorry I aimed at the deer today,” Ana said.
“It’s okay,” he told her. “You’ve done well. You’ve both done well with what we have had to endure and I think you’re ready. I’m going to tell you a story about how everything changed, and why. Now everything we do must be with them.”
The three of them stared into the dancing flames and the memories began to flood his brain. He grasped at them and tried to separate the real from the irrational before he began to speak….
CHAPTER ONE
“Wótʼááh”
Yann felt as if he had just woken up from a long sleep. Confused, he quietly listened to the noises around him. He could hear the sounds of an engine and a soft chugging sound in the background. They were familiar sounds, yet they were not. He knew that simple statement made no sense, but that was how he felt. It was like he knew he was on a train, yet he didn’t. He looked around him. There was a window to his left and rows and rows of empty tan seats in front of and behind him. His own seat rocked gently back and forth as the train slid along the tracks, and as he took all of this in he wondered,
“How did I get here, and where am I going?”
He looked out the window to his left, onto the landscape that was passing by pane by pane. There were trees in the forefront of the picture that looked to be in the process of transforming their leaves from green into fiery fall colors of orange and deep and intense reds. The greens were not completely gone he noticed, most of them had just faded into yellow. Yann had no memories…yet he did. The colors reminded him of fire, yet it was a fire without smoke or flame. There was no rage like the one that normally came with fire either. Instead, the day was shrouded in a calm, tranquil shroud and the flamboyant leaves lay still in their trees and scattered about covering the ground.
Further in the background of the picture out his window the sun poked its warm head over the mountains that lined the pink and purple sky. Winter was trying to come, summer didn’t want to go and the result was a battle of vibrant colors left splashed across the countryside.
A little farther down the track, Yann spied a lake that sat so calmly it almost appeared to be painted onto the deep green grass that surrounded it. The only indication that it was real was the reflection of the siz
zling colors of the trees off of its mirrored surface.
Yann looked around him and confirmed that he was all alone. He wasn’t supposed to be alone. He wasn’t sure why he knew that thing in particular when he didn’t seem to know anything else. But he had a feeling, one that seemed to be deeply ingrained in him that said he should always be with someone else, someone older, and someone to watch out for him.
He felt confused, yet there was a strange feeling of peace and calmness that surrounded him still. He glanced out the window again, still trying to figure out where he was and where he was going. In the light on the window from the sun that seemed reluctant to completely rise up from behind the mountains was a reflection of his little boy eyes. They were dark pools in the window, surrounded by a thick cover of lashes and it almost seemed to Yann like the little boy was looking in the window at him, rather than him looking out. The boy looked as confused as Yann felt. He didn’t know where he was coming from or where he was going either. Yann could hear the train whistling and somehow he knew that meant they were either entering a crossing, or a tunnel. Yann braced himself for the tunnel. Somehow, thinking about the dark replaced his sense of calm with one of fear or anxiety. It was just a flutter and it was gone as quickly as it came. The shroud of peace once again blanketed him in its warmth.
After several minutes he realized that it must have been a crossing. The sunlight continued to splash rays of light and warmth across his face. He glanced around again, still wondering, about everything. As his eyes once again scanned his environment, he spotted a blue backpack sitting on the armchair in front of him. It had two small wings on each side of it and it seemed familiar to him, so much so that he leaned forward in the seat and took it into his lap. Letting his face rest onto the side of it, he inhaled deeply. He recognized the smell of it, and he instinctively knew that it was his backpack. He unzipped it and looked inside. He could see a leather bound book, tied closed with an old and frayed shoestring. He reached in and took it out, recognizing it at once as his scuffed up old journal.
