by AJ Frazer
“It’s quite extraordinary. The thunder clouds form and the lightning strikes and the rain, it falls, but it never makes it to the ground because it evaporates too damn quickly. But the lightning sure makes it to the ground. Thousands of strikes hit the land, which is one giant tinderbox after months of dry weather.
“So this monster fire front is chewing through thousands of acres, but it’s moving away from our ranch. We all thought the risk was over. Until the wind changed direction. The spirit wind—as the ancients called it—brought the raging fire front down on the ranch. Of course, there were firebreaks, both natural and man-made, but this thing, this evil, it skips and jumps as the embers and flames are carried hundreds of feet through the air. It was a matter of hours before it hit our property. The fire was so hot and the front so big that it actually created its own weather system. Ever heard of condensation nuclei?”
“No.”
“Neither had I. Moisture condenses on all the soot and ash that the fire produces, which then creates cloud and more lightning. Basically, it becomes a living thing that is self-sufficient. Autonomous. Quite remarkable, really.” Sagen looked away and nodded, smiling, thin lips, crazy eyes.
Dominic found the gesture strange and disturbing, but he was mesmerized.
“I was away on business when the fire bore down on our property. When I learned what was happening, I headed home as quickly as I could. Most of the roads in the area were closed, so I had to drive cross-country—which is lunacy in those conditions, but I had no choice. I kept telling myself not to worry about my wife Emma and Jack, our four-year-old boy. We had a fire plan and Em was a country girl—she knew how to handle herself on the land.
“Eventually, I had to ditch the truck. I set off running toward the farm over scorched earth. Which is actually the safest place to be in a wildfire. Except for the widow-makers—burned trees and branches that fall after a fire’s been through. I was running, almost delirious from the heat and smoke when one landed on me. It knocked me out cold until the searing pain from a burning hot ember which lay across my face brought me back to my own personal hell.” Sagen, perhaps unconsciously, stroked the scar on his cheek.
“I kept running through the destruction, the fear rising up with every step. By the time I got to the homestead, it was gone. Just a black smoking mess. I was having trouble keeping my senses—the smoke and heat were immense. The cars were all burnt out, so I knew my wife and son would have headed to the river. That was our worst-case escape route. I ran that way calling their names.
“The river was about a mile from the homestead, over rough terrain. There’d been a lot of fuel on the ground and there was no actual track to follow. When a fire’s moving that fast and leaping huge distances, you can be surrounded by flames before you know it. And when you’re surrounded by fire, your options have pretty much run out.”
Sagen paused and looked down at the floor, his face blank.
“I smelled them before I saw them. I knew it was them. Burnt human flesh smells different to cattle and wildlife. Ever smelled burning bodies?”
Dominic had to nudge himself; he had been transfixed by Sagen’s story. “Y-yes. In Iraq.”
“Then you know the putrid stench that never leaves you.”
Dominic simply nodded.
“I walked slowly then. I didn’t want to keep looking, I wanted to run in the other direction. I was so afraid of what I’d find. But I forced myself to keep going. Then I saw Emma’s body lying face down. Her clothes were gone and her skin was blackened. As I got closer, I saw that she was actually on top of Jack. She’d tried to protect him from the heat by digging a shallow hole and covering him with her body, but fires like that get to well over a thousand degrees—that’s enough to melt metal. There’s no way to protect someone from that kind of heat. Can you imagine the bravery of laying yourself across someone while you’re literally burning to death?”
Dominic stared blankly, the pen in his hand frozen without a single note taken, unable to even shake his head. Though he had no children, he could feel the gut-wrenching terror and infinite grief of losing a loved one in such a brutal way.
Sagen’s tone changed to something resembling resignation, as if he was splintering off the memory and trying to leave it behind. “I sat there as Emma’s body smoldered, just staring at them. Then I started talking to them, as if they could hear me. Why hadn’t you got out earlier? Why didn’t you call for help? Why didn’t you run faster? Stupid, pointless questions.
“I stayed there for I don’t know how long, but it was getting dark when I stood up. In the distance I could see the bright glow of the fire front, still burning hard. I couldn’t leave them there. So I stumbled back to my truck. I was in a daze. I got a tarpaulin and some lights, then went back to them. It was pitch-black by then, but I had to do something. I tried to lift Em off Jack to put her on the tarp.”
Sagen was staring at his hands, which looked like claws. “But when I did, her skin slid right off her arms. I puked my guts up at that. Lay there heaving and retching when there was nothing left to bring up. After I pulled myself together, I managed to get her onto the tarp. Her back was completely blackened, but most of her front looked OK.
“And then I went to get Jack. I had a head torch on and, as I walked closer to him, the beam shone down on his face. It took everything I had to lay my eyes on him. He looked like a ghost, half-buried in the earth. He had barely a scratch on him, no burns or anything. He would have suffocated from the smoke or lack of oxygen. I like to think that they both passed out from the smoke and died unconscious before the flames did their work. Anyway, I put him on the tarp beside Emma. Then I carried their bodies back to the truck. I couldn’t do it one at a time—I couldn’t separate them. Not even for a minute. Em wouldn’t have liked that. I got them onto the back of my pickup and placed them gently beside one another. I lay down with them and stared up at the starless sky, the smoke reflecting the orange glow of the distant fire still raging.”
Sagen exhaled. “Next morning, I woke up and I knew, even after a fire, the flies would soon be attracted to their bodies, so I buried them near the homestead. Afterwards, I walked away from there and I never returned.”
Dominic stared at Sagen. “That is truly one of the most harrowing things I’ve ever heard. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through.” Even to Dominic, his comment sounded superficial and couldn’t do the story justice. He was hurting for the man just the same. He’d seen more than his fair share of human suffering, but it was almost always caused by the hand of another human. War, conflict, terrorism—so many ways for humans to cause suffering.
Sagen looked up at him with cold, dead eyes. “You wanted to know the moment that defined me. My origin story. There you have it. After I buried them in the ground, I buried myself in booze, pain, drugs, sex—whatever I could find. I was a deeply broken person, filled with the purest of rage. I tried to rationalize it, but rage has no rationale. After a long time in the darkness, I realized that my fury was directed at the one thing I could never exact vengeance upon—nature.
“Most nights I would get drunk, go outside, and scream at the sky. Can you imagine being angry at the sky, at the sun, the clouds, the trees? Ridiculous. I went mad. One night I sat on a beach, drunk and depressed, with a loaded gun in my lap. I stared out at the Pacific Ocean and waited for the sun to set one last time before I blew my brains out. But as I looked across the glimmering water, I saw an oil rig in the distance, and it all clicked. Human-induced climate change had been directly linked to the extreme weather we were now experiencing. In that moment, the crosshairs of my rage landed squarely on the people who were interfering with nature. In that moment, I had a powerful reason to go on living.”
Dominic had listened intently, both horrified and in awe of what he had heard, completely drawn in. This man had lost everything, yet had brought himself back from the abyss to exact his revenge. He was like the Count of Monte Cristo, but on an even grander scale.
“That is quite a remarkable and truly horrifying story. Do you think there will ever be a happy ending?”
Sagen shrugged. “Tell a story for long enough and eventually there’s a happy ending.”
Dominic was puzzled by his answer, but he left it. Time for a more direct approach. “Do you think your wife would be proud of what you have created?”
A none too subtle flash of anger crossed Sagen’s eyes, quick and fleeting. Dominic had touched a nerve and Sagen was caught off-guard. “Irrelevant. She’s gone. And to dwell on such things can make a man go mad. Trust me, I know.”
“But surely you would know if Earth Ghost would be something she would have supported?”
Sagen glared at Dominic. Wrong question, get back into line. “I actually believe Emma would have done exactly as I am doing. She would have made those responsible for the systemic murder of thousands accountable for their actions. You must keep in mind that my wife and child weren’t the only ones to have been killed during those fires, or through the course of our extreme climate change.”
“I see. Did anyone else who lost loved ones contact you to be part of Earth Ghost?”
Sagen gave a wry smile. “Not that I am aware of.”
Dominic nodded, staring at the desk in front of him. He knew he needed to tread carefully. “So, since establishing Earth Ghost, has there been a moment when you felt that revenge had been fulfilled—an eye for an eye—that you could pack it in and call it a day?”
Sagen’s eyes darkened as he leaned forward over the desk. “Let me be clear. While my reasons for starting Earth Ghost were very personal, my enduring dedication is down to something far broader. Which is, to save us all from ourselves. So no, I have never had a moment when I thought our work is done. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to continue this interview later.”
Dominic felt a wave of regret. The interview had lasted just a few minutes, and he’d already rattled his subject and caused him to pause. A more junior reporter would have apologized and become obsequious in an effort to regain rapport, but that was never Dominic’s style.
“Yes, of course. If my questions make you uncomfortable, I am merely asking you what I know our readers would want to ask you.”
“I’m sure. Nonetheless, we shall pick up on this later.” Sagen stood and ushered Dominic to the door.
Sagen looked haggard and Dominic realized that the emotional scars Sagen carried were far deeper and more gruesome than the one on his face. Picking at the scabs on these sorts of scars was never a pleasant experience. Dominic rose slowly, loathing the fact that he was being dismissed as if he was a child in the principal’s office.
Chapter Nine
Later that day, Dominic was summoned by Sagen yet again. Like a lackey or an assistant, he gathered his things to go see his subject in his office. He was getting fed up with this. His pride was taking a beating. Too many years of being pampered and worshiped had taken an invisible toll on his ego’s resilience. Was he really so hyper-sensitive? When had this happened? As a soldier and a journalist, he’d never been concerned with such petty irrelevancies. He wondered if Ray and Jacs and others at Jagged Edge saw this side of him?
Sweeping the self-analysis away, he entered Sagen’s office and settled back into the chair in front of the eco-warrior, considering his next move.
“So how would you like to proceed, Victor?”
“Well, first, I must apologize for ending our last meeting so abruptly. Truth is, I have never spoken to anyone so fully about the loss of my family. It unearthed feelings that I’d buried long ago. Feelings that I thought had dulled, like broken glass left in the ocean for years.”
Dominic nodded. “Understandable.”
Sagen was a different person now, lighter, more relaxed. “Understandable, but not acceptable. So, please, ask away. I am all yours.”
Keep it convivial, thought Dominic. Nice and easy to start with. “So what do you do to unwind? Where do you go for holidays?”
“You can do better than that, Dominic.”
An awkward silence landed between the two of them. Dominic was never uncomfortable with silent pauses in meetings and conversations, they were tactics, power plays, but the way Sagen looked at him created a level of discomfort that could only be assuaged by writing notes feverishly on his pad.
“Do I intimidate you, Dominic?” asked Sagen flatly, without a hint of arrogance or one-upmanship.
Dominic looked at Sagen. “No, though you do possess an intensity that I find somewhat unnerving.”
Sagen nodded slowly. “Most people find me intimidating. I can understand why.”
“Really? Why do you think that?”
“I have a higher purpose. Most people don’t. And so when they are confronted with someone who does, it can make them feel … inadequate.”
Dominic considered this for a moment, it rang true. He was fairly certain he had a similar effect on people around him. Perhaps he and Sagen weren’t as dissimilar as he thought.
“Not surprising. The most powerful thing in the world is a person with clarity of focus.”
“Very true. So, what’s your higher purpose?” asked Sagen.
Dominic took a deep breath and exhaled. While he needed to keep the focus on Sagen, it never hurt to open up and share something of one’s self with the subject. Vulnerability was the core to building trust.
“To create truth.”
The truth was that this was the first time he had ever said that; he wasn’t sure where it had come from, but in the moment it felt right.
“Is truth created or is it simply communicated?” Sagen seemed genuinely interested.
“Truth must be created, manufactured in a way, because with access to so much information from so many sources, the truth becomes elusive, scatty, and subjective. I have created a machine that creates truth, free of political, commercial, religious, or idealistic influences.”
Sagen appeared to listen intently, nodding with a smile that suggested intrigue. “This is why I chose you, Dominic, for this interview.”
“Because I create truth?”
“No. Well, yes, but mainly because I see so many parallels between our two organizations. You have built a machine to create truth. I have built a machine to create change. Truth and change; the only two things worth a damn. Just imagine the possibilities of our two organizations coming together. Wouldn’t it be remarkable?”
Dominic suddenly wondered if he hadn’t fully grasped the real reason he was here. Was the interview contrived to hide an ulterior motive?
“Wait, you got me here to talk about a merger under the guise of an interview?”
“No, that was not my intention at all.” Sagen sported a wicked grin. “But the possibility is attractive, is it not?”
“In case you missed it, I said Jagged Edge was free of ideology. Not to be would mean we could not create truth. I mean, what if you’re wrong? What if the Earth doesn’t need the change you’re advocating? What if humans aren’t to blame for climate change?”
Sagen sat forward in his chair and stared earnestly at Dominic. “I wish we were wrong. Unfortunately, every counterargument has been lost. Every scrap of skepticism shown to be groundless. We have no choice but to be part of the solution. To do otherwise would be tantamount to biocide—species-level suicide.”
Dominic lowered his hand from his jaw. “Perhaps part of the solution is precisely what we are. Perhaps a deep behavioral response to climate change has already been set in motion—nature’s way of managing our population. In which case, our behavior is adaptive in the evolutionary sense and our destruction is pre-ordained. To stop climate change would be against our nature and ultimately a greater threat to the Earth.” It wasn’t a view Dominic truly believed in. He was being contrary to test Sagen—to see how he would react.
Sagen stared at Dominic for a moment. “A very Malthusian perspective—but there’s nothing to substantiate such a possibility. It also lacks any faith in humanity and,
as a war correspondent, I know you believe that people can change, otherwise, why would you have gone to all those places and put yourself in the line of fire?”
“It’s a naturalist view rather than a humanist view, that’s all. Nature will sort us out a lot faster than we could ever hope to sort out nature.”
“I believe that we have the power to change and avoid ecological catastrophe. The problem is we are hardwired to react to clear and immediate danger. That’s how we evolved. We like to fly by the seat of our pants. We’re equipped to deal with the immediate, with the urgent. The climate is changing quicker than we can evolve new genomes and new systems of response, but too slow for us to perceive a true threat. Which is why we’re sleepwalking into annihilation.” Sagen looked quizzically—almost humorously—at Dominic.
Dominic could see why he was the leader of the largest, most active eco-movement in the world. “OK. Well, let’s say for a moment that you are right. How will you create the large-scale behavior change required to reverse the damage?”
Sagen leaned forward, raised a fist and peeled his index finger up in the air. “The first thing we have to do is shift our thinking from anthropocentric to deep ecology. We need a democracy of nature, where all organisms are treated equally. Then humanity must commit to reversing the worst holocaust event in our history—the industrial revolution. And in doing so, create a sustainable, pro-life Earth which—”
“Come on, Victor, spare me the brochure rhetoric! We’ve heard it all before. What I want to know is, how far are you willing to go?”
Sagen seemed taken aback at being interrupted from his monologue. He looked back at Dominic with a nervous smirk. “We will do what is—”
“Victor, I’m sorry, but I want to know what you are prepared to do, not the royal we of Earth Ghost. You are accused of breaking international terrorism laws—murder for Christ’s sake.”
So much for trying to maintain rapport. But it was time to take it up a notch. Dominic needed Sagen to break away from the press release or else this interview would be plain dull.