The Bar Code Prophecy Part 14

Eutonah pointed the jammer at the scene once more. A strange glistening descended on everything and then it snapped out of sight as quickly as it had appeared. "I don't want to tip them off that we've seen them," she explained. "At least not yet. Hopefully, they'll think it was just some sort of solar flare glitch."

Chief Russell seemed unaware that the machines and trucks and equipment had disappeared. He stared at the place where they had been, his formerly serene face now twisted into an expression of horror.

"They are destroying the universe," he said.

"It fits," Chief Russell said as they sat deep in the interior of the cave in a shadowy section under the mesa. "This is the part of the prophecy we now call The Bar Code Prophecy." He placed the piece Eric had picked up and locked it into place with the earlier tablet that had been retrieved from the side of Spider Rock.

"What does it say?" Eutonah asked.

He drew his fingers along the horizontal line. "This is now and here's where the line divides. This is the path of respecting the Earth, our mother. It is the path that humans have not taken. This jagged line ascending to the sun will be our destiny now."

Eric pointed to a stick figure of a man climbing the jagged line. "What does this mean, Uncle?"

"I do not pretend to know what will happen. But there is a meteor currently in our orbit," Chief Russell replied.

"But it's supposed to miss us," Grace said anxiously. "All the scientists say it will pa.s.s us by."

"This man is climbing high," Chief Russell said, tapping the figure on the pictograph. "It's probably good advice for all of us."

"We have to tell what we know," Eric said urgently. "The world has to be made aware of this. It will affect everyone."

Eutonah nodded pensively. "Global-1 controls all the TV and radio stations. If they don't want the world to know what they've done, the news will never get out."

"In that case, I agree with Eric," Grace said. "It's up to us."

Pasadena Sun August 13, 2026 GLOBAL-1 SCOFFS AT TRIBAL COUNCIL WARNING. LOUDON WATERS CALLS IT FEARMONGERING OF THE LOWEST ORDER.

President Loudon Waters has publicly dismissed the warnings of the Tribal Council held recently in Canyon de Ch.e.l.ly, Arizona, as "bunk." The council, which comprises representatives from all the Native American Nations, has flooded the media with claims of an "end of days" scenario claiming that some obscure prophecy dating back to earliest civilization has finally come to pa.s.s.

"If these people feel the need to call attention to themselves and their various complaints, let them do it without trying to arouse ma.s.s hysteria," the president went on to say. "Global-1's team of the most eminent scientists in the world a.s.sure me that the meteor is safely traveling its path and there is no need whatsoever to be concerned that it, or anything else, threatens our way of life."

Global-1 has banned all its stations and affiliates from carrying news of the Tribal Council's warnings. The Cherokee medicine woman known only as Eutonah, recently released from the female Bedford Hills Correctional Facility where she had been imprisoned for her role in bar code tattoo resistance, told a local TV station, "The people of the world must take our warnings seriously," before static engulfed her message. The station's broadcast license was consequently revoked.

"My advice is to carry on with your lives and don't worry," said President Waters. "I'm told that in twelve days when the meteor pa.s.ses by us we'll get a terrific light display in the sky. My family and I will be out on the White House lawn to see it. You can rest a.s.sured of that."

"What do we do now?" Kayla asked. The Decode group, along with members of the Drakians, were a.s.sembled back at the Decode cave headquarters in the Great Basin Desert. There was murmured conversation, but no one offered a plan.

Grace sat beside Eric, Eutonah, and Chief Russell, watching the group. Eutonah rose to speak and everyone grew silent. "We must get the word out. That is our most important mission as I see it right now. We must all consider ourselves Postmen and go out to spread the word. Right now we have only each other."

"I agree." Everyone turned to see David Young striding into the cave along with his father, Ambrose Young. "We have to organize shelters worldwide."

"What's going to happen exactly?" Kayla called out.

"We're not sure, but we believe Chief Russell Chaca," Ambrose Young said. "In twelve days something dramatic will occur; something potentially devastating to our planet. Global-1, which controls not only our government but the governments of many nations with its financial dominance, has made it clear that it will not be utilizing any resources to a.s.sist. It is up to us."

"Face it! It's the end of the world!" a woman from the crowd shouted, inspiring another wave of anguished murmuring.

David Young held his arms up to quiet the crowd. "If it is, in fact, the end of the world, let us go out helping one another."

"How do you want us to start doing that?" Mfumbe asked as he climbed onto a flat rock. "Should we organize into task groups?"

David Young agreed that Mfumbe should divide them into groups, some to create leaflets on handmade presses, others to solicit donations for supplies. Anyone with medical expertise was to form a group, and Postmen would set off chains of oral communications that would hopefully spread like wildfire among communities and eventually travel worldwide. A squadron of hackers would also work at breaking Global-1's hold on the media.

When David Young noticed Grace standing there, he smiled at her. "What happens if this doesn't work?" she asked him.

"At least we'll all be too busy to worry," the Decode leader said with a smile. "I'd rather go out trying than sitting around shivering with fear."

That made sense to Grace, scared as she was. Eric put his arm around her. "If this is the end, then we'll meet it together, Grace," he said.

Letting herself melt into his arms, Grace raised her face as he kissed her. She held him tightly and his warmth melted - at least for the moment - the icy shards of fear forming inside her.

The group fell asleep late that night, sprawling anywhere they could find a spot to throw down blankets or a sleeping bag. Grace slept deeply, exhausted from her return ride from Arizona on the back of the motorcycle and all the events that had come before.

She dreamed of the dances and chants she'd witnessed at the Tribal Council they'd attended, where Eutonah and Chief Russell had presented the other half of the tablet to the a.s.sembled shamans and elders. The discovery engendered huge excitement. The elders agreed with Chief Russell's interpretation of the pictograph. Whatever was going to happen, it had to do with technology and it would happen very soon.

The red clay tones of the earth against the vivid yellow of the sky colored Grace's dreams. The impa.s.sioned songs of the tribal elders still played in her sleeping mind. Waking, she remembered how the tribes had called upon the Great Spirit to drive Global-1 from their lands since it was Global-1 that was pulling the precious mineral ore and underground waters from the sacred lands.

Then Grace fell asleep once more and dreamed of a giant, many-colored, fire-breathing bird diving into the ocean at tremendous speed. She awoke with a jolt.

This time she heard the crackle of a burning campfire. Kayla, Mfumbe, Allyson, Katie, Eric, and Jack stood by it, streaked with war paint. Grace sat up, alarmed. What were they doing?

And then she saw for herself. They were painting a mural on the cave walls and they were simply splashed with the paints they'd been using. Kayla saw that Grace was watching and smiled. "If this is the end of the world, we want to leave something behind," she explained. "Maybe someday someone will come back and wonder what happened to us."

"It's like the cave people left their drawings behind for us so many thousands of years ago," Mfumbe added.

They had already made a lot of progress and the mural was nearly fifteen feet long and almost ten feet high. It showed the GlobalHelix building with its spiral DNA roof sculpture. There was a section showing bar-coded wrists on weeping people. An outline of a six-foot human figure had its circulatory system mapped out in red. The molecule-sized nan.o.bots dotted the red lines and sent jagged lines up to satellites drawn in the sky. More lines showed signals being sent back to GlobalHelix.

Eric sat down beside Grace, still holding his paintbrush. "It reminds me of the prophecy tablet," he remarked.

"It does," Grace agreed.

Eric took her hand, and together they went over to the part of the mural that Allyson and Jack were working on. It was a vivid blue sky with a dozen swing-los in the air. "Have you built twelve of them already?" Grace asked.

"Almost," Jack said. "When you have the right equipment, they're not that hard to put together."

"Plus, we have room out here to work and lots of people to help us," Allyson added as she painted in an ocher-colored line on a tabletop mesa just below one of the crafts.

David Young approached them, taking in the mural. "Wonderful," he praised the work. "I heard you say you had twelve made?" he checked with Jack. "How fast can you make more?"

"How much money have you got?" Jack countered.

"A lot of money," David Young replied.

"Then I can make a lot of swing-los," Jack confirmed with confidence.

"And is the cloaking device working?" David Young asked.

"Like a dream," Jack a.s.sured him.

"Wait a minute. There's something I don't understand," Allyson cut in. "If we're facing imminent disaster, why are you so eager to rush production along? It's sort of an inopportune moment to be going into business, isn't it?"

David Young sighed and a sad smile formed on his lips. "When I decided to fund you guys, I was never really concerned with making money. I already have money."

"Then why did you do it?" Allyson asked.

David Young shrugged. "Maybe it won't be the end of the world. Who knows? Maybe we're all just panicked for nothing."

"But you said you didn't care about the money?" Grace reminded him.

"I'm a strange guy, I guess. I just like to see good ideas succeed. And I'm not one hundred percent sure this is the end. Maybe nothing at all will happen just like nothing has come of any of these end-of-times predictions in the past."

"Oh, something is about to happen, all right," Dr. Harriman said, joining them. He had been spending most of his time on his own, in a makeshift laboratory - but he still wouldn't say what he was doing. "I'm not a superst.i.tious man and I don't believe in prophecy or prediction. The mystical mechanisms of otherworldly communications are beyond my understanding. But I am in communication with a vast network of scientists who work covertly so as not to have their findings co-opted by Global-1. Among these colleagues are astrologists and astrophysicists."

"What do they tell you?" David Young asked.

"This solar flare activity is unprecedented. It is already disrupting radio signals worldwide. If it gets any more active, it has the potential to knock satellites out of the sky with the intense heat or jam their ability to receive or send signals."

Mfumbe stopped working on his part of the mural. "Does that affect the s.p.a.ce stations?"

"It could," Dr. Harriman replied.

"What about the meteor?" Grace asked.

Dr. Harriman's eyes traveled across the group and Grace sensed his reluctance to tell them what he had to say. Everyone felt it and stopped what they were doing to pay attention. "If any of those disabled s.p.a.ce stations get in the path of the meteor, they could dramatically shift its trajectory."

"And send it toward Earth?" Mfumbe asked.

"And send it toward Earth," Dr. Harriman echoed somberly.

Grace's breath caught in her chest. She knew that a meteor hit was what had wiped out the dinosaurs. Was it possible that these were really their last days on Earth? Closing her eyes, she felt the ground beneath her spin and she staggered, feeling faint.

Eric caught her arm. "Steady," he urged softly.

Breathing deeply, Grace willed herself to be strong. "I'm all right," she told Eric as she bent forward to bring blood circulation back into her head. As she hung there, hot tears brimmed her eyes and she realized how much she loved being alive. The idea that very soon she might no longer live - that none of them would - was more than she could cope with.

The Bar Code Prophecy had to be wrong. It had to be.

But a line from the prophecy played and re-played in her mind. The heavenly bodies will be pulled from the skies. Was that what Global-1 had done? By taking the precious resources from the Earth, had they upset the balance of the universe so that this meteor would be pulled from the skies?

It certainly fit.

Grace wanted her family, but they weren't here. Instead, she looked around at this strange new family she'd found.

And she thought, What are we going to do?

"Why isn't this all over the news?" Kayla fretted several days later as she, Mfumbe, Eric, and Grace stood at the mouth of the cave with several other Decode members looking out. It seemed to Grace that the sky had grown much more yellow and that the heat had become nearly unbearable.

"Even if we don't care about being tracked, we can't get a phone to work," Kayla went on in an agitated tone. "Are we supposed to just wait here for this meteor to blast us to bits?"

Mfumbe put his arm around her shoulders but said nothing. His serious expression radiated the tension they all felt. "Maybe a Postman will come with news," Mfumbe suggested.

"Grace and I are Postmen. I think we should go see what we can find," Eric offered.

Dr. Harriman joined them from inside the cave. "I may have an easier way."

Grace turned along with the others and saw that he held a disc in the palm of his hand. "Grace, this is the invention that has caused you so much trouble," Dr. Harriman revealed. "It's the thing I won't give Global-1, the thing that they want so desperately. I've only now finished it. But I think it might just work."

"What is it?" Grace asked him.

"It's a messaging device that bypa.s.ses the satellites," Dr. Harriman replied. "It can be bounced off any metal that's floating in s.p.a.ce - any meteor, any planet or asteroid."

"But no one can own those things," Kayla said.

"Oh, the countries and companies are trying, but so far, no. They can't. It's free communication for the planet with no one monitoring it."

"I can see why Global-1 wouldn't want that to get out," Mfumbe remarked.

"It would be far too empowering to humankind," Dr. Harriman concurred. "But we can use it right now to see what's going on out in the world." Sweeping his fingertips across the screen made the device light up. Several taps brought a picture to the screen. "Jonathan! It works!" a man on the screen said. "Good to see you. Is Grace with you?"

"Dad!" Grace cried out, recognizing the voice immediately. "I'm here!" She stood beside Dr. Harriman, looking at her dad, Albert Morrow, on the screen. "Is everyone all right?"

"We're fine, Grace. We were so worried until Jonathan got in touch and told us you were okay," her father replied.

"What do you hear?" Dr. Harriman asked. "We have a news blackout here."

"So do we. Global-1 isn't letting any news through. They're claiming that solar flares have created havoc on all their systems. They probably just want to run for cover before anyone else can."

"Cover from what?" Grace asked.

"The rumors are that the solar flares have knocked out all the controls of the International s.p.a.ce Station and that it drifted and collided with the meteor. Both are headed for Earth's atmosphere as we speak."

"Does anyone know where they might be expected to land?" Dr. Harriman asked.

"Right now they're saying they're going to hit in the Pacific, somewhere near the California/Mexico border."

"How close to land?" Dr. Harriman inquired.

"No one knows."

"How soon?" Dr. Harriman asked.

"They're basing their calculations loosely on Skylab, which fell to Earth in 1979," Albert Morrow explained. "There were nine days between the time the s.p.a.ce station hit the atmosphere and when it struck the Earth. But that's just an educated guess. There's a lot more tonnage coming down on us this time."

"Hmm," Dr. Harriman mused. "My colleagues at NORAD estimated the meteor to be twenty million tons and traveling at a speed of twenty-three thousand miles an hour. I have no information on how heavy the current s.p.a.ce station is or how much of it will actually hit us. But I can tell you this: Even if some of the s.p.a.ce station rips apart and the meteor splits in the atmosphere upon entry, we're still looking at an impact equivalent to many atomic bombs."

The low hum of conversation that had arisen suddenly quieted. Everyone had caught the last statement and was stunned by it. David Young and Ambrose Young had come in, and they appeared as shocked as the rest of them.

"We're looking at nine days?" David Young checked.