This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters and events in this book are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published by Gatekeeper Press
3971 Hoover Rd. Suite 77
Columbus, OH 43123-2839
Copyright © 2016 by Richard Friedman
All rights reserved. Neither this book, nor any parts within it may be sold or reproduced in any form without permission.
Cover design and page layout by:
Debbie J. Friedman, Portfolio Creative Studio
ISBN: 9781619844971
eISBN: 9781619844988
Printed in the United States of America
DEDICATION
In loving memory of Stacy Birnbaum
CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
Read Richard Friedman’s debut novel, Escape to Canamith.
About The Author
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To Danny Bloom, the Godfather of Climate Fiction
CHAPTER 1
August 12, 2012 - Nitzana region of Israel
Jack Callahan and his 12-year -old son Billy drove through brilliant sunshine to the city of Kadesh Barnea for a quick breakfast before stopping at the local market. Jack loaded their cooler with ice, water, protein bars, and snacks to prepare for the expedition.
Jack sped their rented Mercedes-Benz onto Route 10, a road that straddled the Israeli- Egyptian border. A mesh fence was the only thing separating the two countries. Billy gazed out the passenger window as vast stretches of desert filled his field of view.
After a short ride, Jack reached driveway of modest house. A dog barked incessantly as a heavily built man greeted them at the door. He stood six feet tall and passed the two hundred and fifty pound mark long ago. Years in this arid, sweltering place had lightened his eyebrows to saffron, a color not found on his full head of brown hair. Jack Callahan had exchanged many text messages with the man, but they had never met in person.
“You must be Mr. Callahan. I am Marrick. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The Israeli stuck out his right hand. The host gave a slight squeeze and the knuckles on Jack’s fourth and fifth fingers compressed.
Jack withdrew his hand and the pain subsided. “Good to meet you too. This is my son, Billy.”
Billy readied himself for the introduction. He reached for Marrick’s hand and gave it a firm, strong shake. The child’s hand disappeared in Marrick’s meaty palm.
“It’s nice to meet you, young man. Come join me in a beverage before your journey. It will bring you good fortune!” said Marrick.
Jack loathed wasting the daylight hours making idle chit-chat, but rejecting the hospitality would be disrespectful. “We’d be delighted, thank you. I don’t hear much of an Israeli accent. Do I hear a trace of New Jersey?” asked Jack.
“That’s perceptive of you Mr. Callahan. I lived in New York City during the attacks on September 11th and decided that living in Israel was safer. I moved here in 2002.”
“Please, call me Jack.”
“Okay, Jack. I grew up in New Jersey. It’s a little town called Upper Saddle River. Charming place, ever been there?”
“Can’t say that I have. Do they have any old bones there?” He asked.
With a laugh, Marrick replied, “Maybe at the Senior Center.”
“What do you like about Israel?” asked Billy.
“There were too many people in the United States,” declared Marrick. “Out here, I’m in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes I go an entire week without seeing another living soul. I dabble on the internet, trade stocks, bonds, commodities, coins; I’m a jack of all trades. I’ve done okay for myself. I’m content to spend my time with Stevie.”
“Is he your son?” said Jack.
“Something in that vein,” Marrick pursed his lips and whistled, resonating throughout the yard. A beagle appeared from the backyard. The dog ran to the visitors, and began humping Jack’s leg.
“Stevie!” yelled Marrick. The dog responded by hopping off Jack’s leg and rushed to his owner’s side, where he sat back on his haunches, panting, tail wagging, waiting for instructions.
“I apologize profusely for his actions,” said Marrick.
Jack waved off the behavior, “I want to thank you for getting our permits in order. We couldn’t have done it without your assistance. You must have friends in high places in the Knesset.” “In the same way your government works Mr. Callahan, the Israeli Legislature moves slowly, and on occasion, with a little push from an associate with a hefty endowment check put in the right hands, bureaucracy progresses quickly.”
The adults drank tea and talked politics and sports. When the pleasantries were finished, Jack and Billy used the restrooms and moved to the door preparing their exit.
“Billy, go to the car and bring the bag from inside the glove box,” requested Jack.
He returned in a moment and Jack handed the bag to his host. “It’s a token of our appreciation for helping us while we’re in Israel,” said Jack.
Marrick ripped open the package.
The huge man was delighted, “A DVD copy of ‘Mud Man’s Greatest Moments!’ I love it! What a generous gift. And now I’ve met the star of the show, and his son. While the two of you go play in the dirt, I’ll be inside staring at the television and having a cold beer. Advantage…Marrick!”
“What if we find the greatest artifact ever discovered?” asked Billy.
“I’ll be thrilled to know that I had a minor part in your success, and I will brag about this fact, no doubt telling my acquaintances that I had a vital role in your success.”
Marrick escorted his guests to the door, keeping Stevie at bay with a constant kick of his right foot.
“When will you be back? How will I know if you require assistance?” asked Marrick.
Jack continued out the door, saying, “We’ll be fine! I’ve got a cell phone and satellite phone if needed. Thank you Marrick.”
Marrick closed the door and headed directly to the family room, where he broke the seal on the DVD. The dog sniffed the empty plastic wrapper.
“That’s not food, Stevie. We’ll have a feast if our guests arrive home.”
The dog cocked his head to one side.
“I mean…when they get back home.”
CHAPTER 2
August
12, 2012
Later that morning in the Negev desert
“Damn, it’s hot,” declared Jack. “Drink more water, you must stay hydrated.”
“I’m fine dad. I’ll take a few more sips in a minute,” said Billy.
The father and son duo stood several miles from the road. The clouds helped keep the morning temperatures to a minimum. Jack hoped that they could find relief from the rising afternoon temperatures.
“What type of clouds do you see today?” asked Jack.
Billy covered one eye, blocking the sun while he inspected the white puffs resting upwards of 6,000 feet.
“Stratus?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” said the teacher.
“I’m telling you. Stratus.”
“Correct. How can you tell?”
“They’re uniform and flat.”
“Correct, now drink,” said Jack. “I’ve reviewed the satellite images we received from Israeli Intel, courtesy of Marrick. I requested rock formations. I’m surprised they sent it, considering how close we are to the Egyptian border. They did send a substantial amount of what I wished for.”
He motioned the boy to come closer and pointed to the first picture.
“See, this is a picture from early in 2010, prior to the flooding. Check the corner, there’s an enormous rock formation that is 200 feet from this approximate spot. Take a view at the next one. Same overhead view, they’re satellite views taken after the flood. You can see where the water blasted the valley and penetrated that entire rock formation. That ground stayed undisturbed for centuries. Those huge boulders are scattered all around the site and there’s bound to be fossils worth finding.”
Billy didn’t care for the technical lingo. “We’ll know soon enough. Heck, even if the highlight of our trip is finding old camel bones, it beats sitting on the couch back home and ordering pizza from Geraci’s.”
Billy struck a nerve with that comment. You could say many things to Jack Callahan and he wouldn’t get upset, insulting Geraci’s pizza was grounds for a fight to the death.
Jack shot the boy a good-natured glance.
“I can picture it. We’ll open a Geraci’s Italian Restaurant right smack in the middle of the Old Jerusalem Market,” laughed Jack.
Jack held the second photograph with his left hand and his GPS device with his right. He searched for familiar shapes.
“I wish we had a helicopter, it would be easier to compare this photograph to the view we’re getting here on the ground.” said Jack.
“Mind if I take a peek?” asked Billy.
He handed him the picture. Billy searched back and forth between the photo taken by the Israeli Air Force and what he saw now. He turned the photograph clockwise and gave the image back to his father. The picture had military codes at the edges, written in Hebrew and a crystal clear image in the middle of it.
“Well young Einstein, what do you think?” asked Jack.
Billy pointed and said, “Straight ahead. Study the picture. See the layering of the rocks in the picture?”
Jack nodded in the affirmative.
“Compare that to the rocks that lay ahead of us. They have similar traits. The land is full of peppered lines from the water. Those lines resemble the ones that run across our path ahead another quarter mile.”
Jack took another glance at the photograph. “Your mother would be proud of you. You studied the maps I gave you last month.” Jack removed his map and black permanent marker. He drew a large circle around the rock formation that Billy had identified and wrote “Billy-1” at the top of the picture. He jammed the picture in his backpack.
“To me, ancient means older than 500 years. To find artifacts that old in this part of the world is to hope that somewhere along the line, a group of people had a city, or an outpost, and without warning, some cataclysmic “event” occurred that essentially wiped them off the map.” Jack explained.
“You mean like Mount Vesuvius or Krakatoa?” Billy said.
“Yep. Many people have claimed this land as theirs. Even today the land is in dispute. War, fire, flood, and the changing climate over time gives us hope that we may extract artifacts that have remained concealed for hundreds, or even thousands of lifetimes. That thrill of the unexpected find is what drives me.”
Jack preferred silence while he worked. Billy stroked and pushed the ground and rocks from one pile to another, without finding much of note. The elder Callahan found a few pieces of clay pottery that dated back to the time of Abraham Lincoln. They broke for lunch and drank water. The sky cleared and the temperatures rose. In an instant, their lives would change.
Billy was the first to sense it.
“Is that a motorcycle?” he asked his father.
“I doubt it. We’re too far off the path to sense vibrations from a bike.”
“Don’t you feel it?” Billy asked.
“Shit! Quick follow me!” shouted Jack.
“What’s wrong?” Panic filled Billy’s eyes.
Jack yelled, but the sound of the earth splitting open made his shouts inaudible. “It’s an earthquake, that’s what! Follow me to the side of that rock formation ahead.”
The ground began to move. Neither Callahan had experienced an earthquake first hand. Despite Jack’s age and travels in earthquake prone lands, this was his first encounter.
Walking in the Negev during an earthquake was akin to dancing on the top of a swimming pool. Jack tumbled, thrusting his right hand forward to support his fall. His hand landed on a sharp rock and blood oozed from the wound. Adrenalin kept the pain at bay. He struggled to his feet and reached for Billy, who had fallen to both knees. The rocking tossed the child from left to right and back to his left a second time. Jack stretched for the boy, but missed when another sideways tilt of the ground sent him hurdling past the boy. Billy told his brain to reach for his dad’s bloody arm. His arm barely moved forward. Terror seized Billy and confiscated his ability to move.
The ground ripped apart and made horrible grinding crunches. Tectonic plates gnashed against each other. A Hollywood special effects crew in Hollywood couldn’t replicate the true horror in the sound the quake generated. The evil clatter petrified Billy. Jack maintained his composure and focused on saving his son. The ground jolted forward and back.
“Get up!” screamed Jack. The quake nearly drowned out his voice. “Get to the edge of the rocks to your right!” Jack fell and landed hard. The ground rose and dropped him back. He staggered to his feet, blood seeping from a fresh wound to his leg.
Billy nodded, but didn’t budge. He remained frozen with fear.
“Billy! Get up now!” shouted his dad. Jack’s pleas fell on terrified ears.
Jack staggered to his feet and headed back towards his boy. The ground continued to shake. Billy finally rose, and as he reached a half crouching position, Jack grabbed his son and helped him stagger to the closest rock formation. Pieces of rocks tumbled from other outcroppings and hurtled at the Callahan’s resembling bumper-targets in a twisted pinball game played in the Negev desert. Jack continued to bleed, and tried to calm his son.
“I’m okay Billy, it’s a flesh wound.”
Billy was barely hanging on to reality. His legs stopped functioning normally and his father practically carried him to a potential safety spot away from falling debris.
The average length of an earthquake is between two and four minutes. This trembler, later named “The Negev Monster,” lasted five minutes.
Halfway through the disaster, a collection of raised flat rocks that provided temporary safety became Jack’s mortal enemy. A huge piece of rock fragmented and flew towards Jack. He had to make a split second decision. He gathered his strength and shoved his boy away from his body as hard as he could. Billy sailed to the right and landed with a thud. A huge section of rock fell on top of Jack, killing him instantly. His satellite phone tumbled to the ground. Billy was attempting to get back to his feet when the ground split and he slid fifteen feet into the freshly
opened gaping hole. His right leg scrapped against the edge of the rock wall and rubbed his skin raw. The blood flow was barely more than a trickle, but the pain was intense.
“DAAAAAAD! Where are you?” the boy shouted. The ground continued to shift. The two sides of the rock would pancake Billy if they converged. Instead of the land moving closer together, it moved further apart, leaving a five foot wide chasm that enabled Billy to painstakingly guide his way down the sides until he reached solid footing, twenty feet below the surface of the land that he had walked on top of seconds earlier.
“DAD!” he shouted. No reply. Jack’s body lay adjacent to the rocks. Billy felt the ground moving. The sides of the walls teetered, moaned, and wretched. He searched the side of the walls for a place to climb out of his potential burial plot. His torso remained upright, bending his knees and squatting reminiscent of King Kamehameha riding a wave in Hawaii. If he could stay on his feet, he could avoid the falling debris that rained overhead. Billy didn’t know which direction to turn. He kept his head on a swivel, spinning from side to side, hoping to avoid getting hit. He headed right and met a dark earthen wall, sheared clean by the quake. There would be no escape on that side of the wall. To his left was a wall of dirt. He moved closer, careful to avoid incoming threats, snugging close to the wall, inspecting it for a spot to secure his hands or feet. His father failed to respond to his calls and they were miles from help. He caught the reflection of the satellite phone near the wall and grabbed it. It had fallen into the hole along with Billy. The boy tried to steady his hands to operate the telephone. Then he saw the entire back half of the phone was missing and the internal guts of what he was holding smashed into a useless collection of circuit boards. He tossed it aside. Undeterred, he dug his left shoe firmly in the dirt, and peered above to search for a spot to place his secure his right hand. He raised his right shoulder a few inches and found a stable spot. He elevated his left leg with the anticipation of kicking it into the side wall and getting it to stay. As he removed his right foot, his right hand slipped out of its fragile spot and Billy slid back the few feet that he had achieved. He was back to square one. He eyeballed his throbbing leg and winced. He searched the walls for a better spot to retry his exit. The ground continued to rumble.
The Two Worlds of Billy Callahan Page 1