The Journey of Kyle Gibbs Box Set

by Wayne Marinovich

Gibbs walked past the African who stood a foot taller than him and smelt like a buffalo. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the skinny man, who’d gone a lot paler. Spinning around to his left, Gibbs punched the African in the throat with a vicious right hook, the crunch of the cartilage ensuring he stayed in shock as he struggled for breath.

  Dropping his left shoulder, he swung his left fist up between the man’s muscular thighs. The pop of his testicles spurred Gibbs on to finish him quickly. The big man dropped to his knees, then fell onto his side holding his throat and balls. A spoon with a sharpened handle dropped from his sleeve, the grip bound with resin, and it rolled towards Gibbs. He snapped it up then brought his right heel down onto the man’s contorted face. Two more heel strikes rendered the man unconscious.

  Gibbs flipped the shiv over and pointed it at a man who’d stepped forward. ‘Don’t take another step, fucker, or you’ll bleed out and die over this body.’

  Gibbs walked backwards to the door and thumped it twice with his heel. A creak broke the silence as it swung open. The warden appeared with a smile.

  ‘Excuse me, warden. Would you mind getting this sack of shit out of my cell?’

  The warden laughed and signalled to two inmates. ‘Get old Cyril out of here and to the infirmary. Wait there in case you have to toss the body overboard.’

  They dragged the lifeless body out of the door. Gibbs swung around and looked at the skinny man. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Mike.’

  ‘Don’t just stand there, Mike. Clean up the blood from my cell floor.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Gibbs walked towards the corner of the room, the shiv nestled in his palm. The effeminate young man stood up and smiled as he approached. ‘Don’t smile at me. Get back to your bunk. I won’t be needing your services.’

  The man’s shoulders dropped, and he started to chew on his nails. He smiled at Gibbs again.

  ‘Who is second-in-command here?’ Gibbs said, looking at the man who’d stepped in to help Cyril. ‘You?’

  The man nodded.

  ‘You a friend of Cyril?’

  The man shrugged. ‘We had a business arrangement.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘People here call me Butcher.’

  ‘Okay, Butcher. Your arrangement still stands, but with me. Do you want to challenge me for this bed? You say so now.’

  The man stared at him for a few seconds and then shook his head. ‘What do I call you?’

  ‘Call me Gibbs. You’ve been here longer than me so take whatever crap you want of Cyril’s possessions. You’ve earnt it. Just leave me that fan. Oh, and take Cyril’s girlfriend if you want him. I won’t be here long enough to have a proper relationship.’

  The men in the cell all started laughing.

  Chapter 42

  Hopen Island, Svalbard, Norway - 2021

  A lone figure trudged through the mossy tundra on the west side of Hopen Island in the Svalbard archipelago. Stopping briefly to glance behind her again, she readjusted the straps on her laden backpack and switched the Browning hunting rifle to the other shoulder. Scanning the horizon for the dangerous lumbering shape that posed a lethal threat, she felt relieved to be in the clear and continued up the tricky scree slope.

  A large herring gull floated above her on its way to prey on the guillemots’ roosting grounds among the rocks above her position. She knew that it wouldn’t be long before the guillemots would take to the air en masse to try and confuse the gull, swirling around in large black clouds as they headed out to sea. As she glanced down at the ocean again, something caught her eye. What the hell is going on down there?

  A large swathe of lighter coloured seawater ran parallel to the entire coast of the island. It hadn’t been there the previous day. She’d never seen anything like it during all her time in Norway and was so transfixed by the unknown phenomenon that she failed to spot the danger creeping up behind her.

  It moved swiftly across the tundra towards her, its large pad-like paws squelching through the small tundra plants under its starved frame. Its head was carried low to the ground as it moved, lifting it occasionally to sniff the scent of the human on the breeze.

  The woman remained transfixed on the wide band of bleached water in front of her. Plankton bloom, maybe. No, don’t be stupid, that is not possible. She had to get a closer look at it and decided to give the guillemots a miss and head back down to the rubber Zodiac. She looked up the slopes one last time and froze with fear.

  The phantom creature was standing fifty meters above her, moving its head from side to side, contemplating its attack, and with its known burst of speed it could be on her in seconds.

  ‘HA…away!’ she screamed, waving her arms to try and scare it off.

  The bear groaned out loud and drew more resolve from its elevated position so took another step towards her. Slipping the long Browning rifle from her shoulder, she chambered a round and switched the safety off.

  The starving bear stopped, groaning as its nose filled with the scent of a possible meal. Turning its body slightly towards the woman, the huge animal lowered its head again. She raised the rifle and aimed at the rocks in front of his nose and squeezed the trigger as she had done on so many previous occasions. The bullet smashed into the rocks just in front of the bear’s nose, sending shards in all directions. The bear recoiled, growling, then turned away and ran over the hill.

  Her heart was still thumping wildly in her chest when she turned back towards the ocean and began her descent to where the black Zodiac was moored. The incident with the bear drifted from her thoughts with possibilities of what could have caused the bizarre ocean discolouration.

  • • •

  Hours later she raised her hand, and the pilot of the rubber Zodiac eased off the throttle, and they slowed to a halt. Flipping open her waterproof case, she reached inside for five small plastic sample containers. Leaning over the side of the boat, she stared at the sea beneath them.

  ‘Bubbles?’ she said. ‘It’s bubbles, not plankton.’

  Marine biologist Sigga Lauridsen was busy with her doctorate on the effects of climate change on the diminutive Brünnich’s Guillemot of the island, but her heart belonged to the sea. In an ocean full of mysteries, this was a true mystery.

  Scooping out four samples of whatever the mysterious gas was, she quickly sealed the containers to trap the gas in the water. The water had no distinctive smell so she was not sure what gas it could be. Her mind raced through the possibilities, but nothing made any sense. ‘Let’s get back to the ship, Mika,’ she said. ‘And make it quick.’

  Once back in her lab, she sat on a small stool in front of the computer, going over the tide charts and weather patterns for any possible clues. Whatever it was, the sheer size of the event meant that it had to be a release that would have been triggered en masse. She knew of no gas pipeline that ran through the region. It had to be natural.

  ‘It’s methane, Sigga,’ a voice behind her said, making her jump.

  ‘What? Are you sure?’ she asked her assistant. Sigga walked over to the lab bench where the samples had been placed into a larger sealed glass container with a portable manometer to determine the type and quantity of gas.

  ‘Without a doubt, and it’s in a very high concentration so I wouldn’t light a match in here,’ her assistant said, a cheeky grin appearing on her face.

  ‘Jesus. This is dangerously high for an ocean release. Set up some standards right away so we can work on a two-week testing cycle before we alert anyone,’ Sigga said.

  ‘Sure thing. Do you think that we have a large-scale methane hydrate melt happening here?’

  ‘I don’t want to speculate, to be honest. The sea in this area is quite shallow, so I’m not sure if someone has already researched the island. We don’t know if someone has mapped and accounted for all this methane in previous studies,’ Sigga said.

  ‘But the readings we’re getting must mean it’s more than an isolated pocket. This is
a few kilometres long, and the sheer size of the release could have a marked impact on the planetary climate.’

  ‘Just hold on now. Science has proven that most of the mixture of methane gas and water that makes up the ice-like particles of methane hydrate, and that covers the ocean floor, would dissolve or be oxidised well before reaching the surface, never mind making into the atmosphere. You would have learnt that at university.’

  ‘Of course I did. But the sheer expanse of shallow seas around the planet that have not been explored to date poses a threat that more of these massive melts could occur.’

  Sigga nodded. ‘There could be more in the future.’

  • • •

  ‘Good afternoon, Sigga, this is Professor Victor Greenway, chief scientist at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.’

  ‘Hello, professor. I’m of course familiar with all of your work,’ Sigga said. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘Allow me to apologise in advance for having to question your findings that have just come across my desk,’ he said, his voice sounding hollow over the ship’s satellite phone.

  ‘It’s okay, professor.’

  ‘We need to make sure these astonishing results are correct and above question. Are you sure of your results?’

  ‘I am, sir.’

  ‘Okay then, but be aware a few of my colleagues are querying their validity because of the alarming weekly increase in the quantity of methane that you document as being released into the atmosphere.’

  ‘I expected pushback and doubt from everyone, which is why we’ve been meticulous in our testing and have actually over-tested in most cases because of the alarming nature of the results. The numbers are shockingly high.’

  ‘High, is a bit of an understatement, Sigga. We’ve never seen levels like this in any ocean. If we extrapolate this out over a few months, we’re talking about a global catastrophe.’

  ‘I concur, professor, and what’s more worrying is that the surface area we are talking about has expanded by a few square kilometres in the last week.’

  ‘That’s astonishing.’

  ‘It’s now all you can see from the island we work from.’

  ‘Thank you, Sigga. May I ask that you keep the numbers coming daily? Please send them to me directly from now on,’ he said.

  • • •

  ‘Good Lord! It’s getting worse,’ Professor Greenway said and sat back in his chair, staring out over his view of night-time Washington from his office. His thoughts drifted to his grandchildren and the world they might have to live through. It was past midnight, and he was the last one left in the NOAA office. It’d been two weeks since his last chat with Sigga, and he flipped over the latest aerial photograph, reading the pencilled notes on a white label – Greenland. It’s spreading to other parts of the planet. Time to alert the world.

  Two days later, he felt the butterflies in his stomach as he stood at the metal lectern in the George Washington Lisner Auditorium. As he flicked through the images taken from an orbiting satellite, a discernible hush swept over his scientific colleagues in the auditorium. They were his peers from all over the world, and he had piqued their interest.

  ‘As many of you are well aware, I’ve long been outspoken about the dangers of the feedback effect methane could have on climate change and the warming of our planet. I now firmly believe that we have passed the point of no return. We now find ourselves in a negative feedback loop. One which we will not be able to reverse.

  ‘Even though methane oxidises to become CO2 after about a decade, it is this longer-lived oxidation product that I believe has caused the excessive atmospheric warming of the planet. Over the past two years, we have seen more unprecedented glacial melting resulting in the 0.5 m sea level rise that has started to wreak havoc in the lower lying areas of the planet.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I have new devastating research that the sea level rise will worsen quicker than estimated. The timeframe of between 2070 and 2150 is no longer valid. I believe there is enough corroborating evidence of an imminent climate change catastrophe and that the world must prepare itself for a two to three-metre rise in the next five to ten years,’ he said, looking down at his notes. A weight lifted from his shoulders.

  Consternation erupted within the auditorium. A thin weasel of a man stood up and called him a delusional old man while others shouted that he had misinterpreted the facts. Fierce arguments broke out between attendees, with ushers having to pull them apart as they came to blows.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please,’ he shouted, bending down to reach the microphone. ‘The statistics are here for all to study, along with the latest data to prove that the permafrost and Arctic shelf methane hydrate melting is also getting worse, and is accelerating as I speak.’

  A figure at the back of the room calmly sat in his chair, paging through the thick dossier given to him when he walked in. He slowly shook his head at the facts that had been highlighted for his benefit by a confidential source in the NOAA. It didn’t matter if the professor believed it would happen in the following five to ten years, or if the catastrophe would hit in the next fifty years. The fact was it was going to happen, and there was nothing they could do to reverse it.

  The short slim-figured man stood up and walked out of the auditorium, and he dialled a number on his mobile phone.

  ‘Lord Butler, it’s Dr Watanabe.’

  ‘Hello, doctor,’ he replied.

  ‘The catastrophic event that we’ve been predicting seems to be well underway. I recommend we call together an urgent meeting of the Grand Founders. There is a lot to discuss.’

  Chapter 43

  Canary Wharf, London, England, UK - 2021

  The new offices of the Phoenix Council were located at the top of the popular and iconic HSBC building in Canary Wharf, London. Lady Winterton had been unanimously elected as the first chairperson of the Council after Lord Butler had endorsed her candidacy. No one voted against him.

  Standing behind the lectern, she welcomed everyone. ‘Like everyone here, I don’t have a lot of information behind the reason for this urgent meeting, but Dr Watanabe has new critical data that Lord Butler felt had to be shared with the group as a matter of urgency. Doctor, it’s over to you.’

  The slim and smartly dressed Dr Watanabe stood up from his plush leather seat alongside Lord Butler and walked around the large mahogany table where they were all seated to take his place behind the ornate lectern that had been placed at the head of the table. Shuffling a few pages around, he cleared his throat. ‘Good afternoon, everyone. I’ve just returned from an emergency meeting of the NOAA called by Professor Greenway with alarming news about an imminent climatic catastrophe.’

  A low murmur spread amongst the members.

  ‘The Greenway report has shown incontrovertible evidence taken from two large sites, that we have entered a phase of irreversible methane emission which will dramatically increase the global temperature. This will result in a colossal ice melt in the north and south glacial areas. All of this means that our oceans will rise to devastating levels.’

  ‘How do we know this isn’t another doom and gloom computer projection?’ Lady Winterton asked.

  ‘You have answered your own question, Madam Chairman. Everything before this was based on projection, forecasting and computer modelling. This report is based on pure science and facts from the field studies in the affected areas. We need to make the necessary changes to our strategies and accelerate all of our plans immediately.’

  ‘Climate scientists have been wrong before,’ Lady Winterton asked. ‘How do we know that these findings are sound?’

  ‘I have looked over their analysis and findings that come from a source in the NOAA. I deem them to be correct. We’re passed the point of no return with the climate and cannot reverse the downward spiral we now find ourselves in. With the average temperature rising, colossal glacial melting will be imminent in Greenland and the Antarctic Region. The sea level will rise by a minim
um of two meters which will decimate low-lying inhabited areas around the world. Professor Greenway estimates a three-and-a-half-meter rise as most realistic over a five-year period.’

  ‘But if that is the case, it means cities like New York, Los Angeles, most cities in Florida, California, cities in Bangladesh and even European cities will be flooded,’ Jürgen Kohler, the Grand Founder from Germany said.

  ‘And don’t forget about our dear London,’ Lord Butler said.

  ‘Yes, all of those cities are in danger of permanent flooding or, at least, being decimated by the daily tidal surges. What’s more, the sheer number of climate change refugees who will look to migrate from those low lying areas to safer cities and towns on higher ground will cause major social and economic problems,’ Dr Watanabe said.

  ‘You’re correct. It will result in chaos and unrest in all of those areas of a magnitude never seen before on this planet,’ Lord Butler said. ‘Can we trust these timescales if we decide to change our strategies?’

  ‘We’ve known about these issues for decades, Lord Butler, and they’ve gradually been getting worse,’ Dr Watanabe said. ‘These latest developments were predictable.’

  ‘To cut our timeframes and change our strategies so dramatically would be unachievable,’ Lady Winterton said.

  ‘The timescales are irrelevant. It will happen, of that I’m convinced. Let’s not find ourselves in the same situation as the crew of the Titanic, standing on the deck, arguing about how quickly the ship is going to sink. In the end, the result was the same, it sank. We need to get ahead of the game.’

  Lord Butler laughed and nodded his head. ‘Okay, doctor, point made. Now, what do you propose?’

  ‘I believe that whatever remains of global governments will attempt to control the effects of the sea level rise like the population displacement, changes in temperature, food production and health. They will fail to prioritise nuclear plants, oil refineries and desalination plants built at sea level that will be flooded and cease to produce much of our needed energy. It is that energy that will drive everything else.