Haruto was unfazed by Bechard’s patronizing words. She no longer cared if he or anyone thought she was right or wrong. She looked at Billy, smiling ever so slightly before turning her attention to the dragon tenderly resting his snout on her lap.
Billy offered his opinion, “Although our storms were not overly violent, they did create a hostile reaction, putting the tribes at risk. It’s like we’ve opened Pandora’s Box.”
Bechard said, “Right now, we need to focus on protecting the tribes. We’ll cease the displays of power until after this situation resolves itself.”
He continued, “Now on to what we must discuss. Governments have falsely claimed the indigenous people are trying to take over the world, but don’t be discouraged. We have the power to overcome this! However, heed this warning! If your government asks you to join them in peace talks—do NOT go! They will slaughter or imprison you. The governments have vowed revenge, but do not fear, I will do everything in my power to protect you!”
Bechard looked around and said, “Could the totem animals step forward?” Animals stepped out of the crowd, birds fluttered above, retiles slithered in, and fish and marine animals swam through the air to face the fallen angel, who asked them, “Since you have the ability to act as liaisons with the earth’s creatures, would you be willing to ask them to guard the tribes?” The totem animals nodded their heads. “Thank you.”
Bechard spoke to the people, “Next, we need to figure a way to let the world know our true intentions. Mankind will see things very differently once they understand we want to save the planet, not control it.” He turned toward Zachary. “Would you like to tell us what you’ve been up to?”
The young man was caught off guard. He hadn’t anticipated his recent actions being called into the limelight. He slowly moved toward Bechard, studying his face, trying to determine if the fallen angel was angry with him. Zachary nervously faced the crowd, saying, “Well, I shared a copy of the scroll with a reporter, and mailed copies to different news stations. I also submitted a photo of the scroll to a blogger, but the message was intercepted by the government.” He lowered his head. “Now I’m hiding out with Billy.”
Bechard said, “Although I wish you had discussed it with the group first, the information is making the rounds on the Internet.”
To prove it, he activated the glass ball, which displayed people around the world viewing the Earth Sentinels’ scroll.
Bechard smiled, proclaiming, “See! You’ve started something! The post has gone viral, but most people are still uninformed. Everyone! Please spread our message any way you can! Let the world know the Earth Sentinels want justice, not power!”
The Mysterious White Ball
US NAVY WARSHIPS sailed out of homeports into the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, as well as ports stationed around the world, such as South Korea, the Falklands, Sierra Leone, Kenya, Guam, the UK, Diego Garcia, Guantanamo Bay, Germany, Gibraltar, Brunei, Syria and Abu Dhabi. The destroyers each towed a floating platform that held a mysterious, gigantic white ball as they cut through the waves in the seven seas. Once they reached their destinations, the warships held their positions waiting for instructions.
Fire It Up
ABOARD THE USS Tomahawk, a sailor deciphered an encrypted message before handing it to the captain to read. After uttering a prayer, the leader issued the command, “Begin Operation Blackstorm.”
An engineering officer pushed several buttons.
Outside the ship, the white ball on the floating platform began to glow, emitting a whirling sound.
Next, the captain relayed coordinates that the officer entered into the shipboard computer system.
The mechanism inside the gigantic white ball began shooting a high-powered microwave beam at its target—an active waterspout in a remote part of the Pacific, just big enough to overturn a fishing boat. If left alone, the waterspout would have run its course, fizzling out long before it reached shore. Instead, because of the microwave energy, its wind speed intensified.
Over the horizon, two additional white balls were activated and began firing microwave beams at the same waterspout. The trajectory pattern amplified the storm’s strength, causing it to grow exponentially into a hurricane. At this point, the white balls shifted, directing the massive storm toward its intended target.
The Biased Media
AFTER SPENDING A chilly night in the woods, Zachary and Billy returned to the silver bullet trailer where Billy checked the ‘traps’ he had set that would have been triggered if an intruder, like a government agent, had opened the front door or tossed a seat cushion.
After deeming it safe, the men sat in the warmth of the living room watching the news play non-stop clips of indigenous people angrily protesting, as well as the mishaps caused by the supernatural storms, such as the broken awnings, missing shingles on rooftops, damaged cars, and angry passengers at the airports whose flights had been delayed.
The segment switched to a reporter, who said, “Behind me is a Cherokee reservation. We can’t get close enough to see if this tribe is preparing for war, but we do know that the US troops are ready to invade all nationally recognized reservations. In order to avoid military action, peace talks between the tribes’ leaders and government officials must take place by noon tomorrow, otherwise the attacks are almost certain. Back to you, Steve.”
The anchorman responded with the perfect amount of decorum, “Thank you. Now let’s take a look at tragic events leading to what is being dubbed, ‘World War III.’” Steve narrated as a video began to play, “Here you can see tribe members blocking oil company trucks trying to cross a bridge…and here’s the scene after four Canadian utility workers were killed in an explosion near the Bear Claw First Nation reservation.” The camera switched back to the announcer. “For those of you just joining in, we’re going to replay footage of the supernatural, animal-shaped storms that struck over a hundred cities worldwide, right after these messages.”
Billy clicked the remote, switching to another news program. The headline, “Domestic Terrorism, Our Biggest Threat,” flashed across the screen.
An anchorwoman spoke directly into the camera, “Now let’s look at the recent uprising of the tribe near the Bear Claw Lake.” The scene showed the Bear Claw Tribe members refusing to leave the Canadian military base, then Chief Keme rushing toward the soldiers, but the segment cut away before the viewers could see the chief using his body as a shield to protect Cecile from the bullet that pierced his heart.
The anchorwoman said, “As you just saw, tension has been building for a while, and obviously reached a tipping point earlier. Here to discuss tribal culture is Professor Billings, who wrote the book, The Inevitable Demise of Indigenous People.”
The camera showed an older, white man dressed in a tweed jacket and bow tie. He smiled, acknowledging the audience.
The newscaster began the interview, “In your book, you mention that the only chance tribes have to survive is to integrate into society. Would you care to expand on that?”
Disgusted, Billy changed the channel. An anchorman appeared mid-sentence, “—let’s hear from Amanda Morris, live on the scene in South Dakota.”
Dressed in a camel-colored cashmere coat, Amanda held a microphone, bracing herself against the cold wind blowing across the open plains. “Thanks, Tom. I am standing at the battleground of Wounded Knee where the local Oglala Sioux tribe is outraged that a private investor is selling the property. The Sioux feel the land should be owned by the tribe and dispute that a private, non-native individual can sell the land where their ancestors were killed and buried. However, documents show that a Lakota couple sold the forty acres for a thousand dollars. The current owner says the tribe has threatened him, and even burned his house, museum and personal items to the ground in 1973. At the same time, Oglala Lakota militants and members of the American Indian Movement occupied the town for seventy-one days, resulting in a shootout with the FBI, and several deaths.”
What the viewers di
dn’t hear was that the land had been forcefully bought by President Woodrow Wilson in the 1930s, and redistributed as private parcels in an attempt to disrupt the tribe’s collective ownership concept—with some of the land being sold to non-natives. After decades of police corruption and brutality, unfair federal policies and the 371 treaties that had been broken by the US government, the tribe fought back, resulting in an FBI intervention and shootout that left two Native Americans and two federal agents dead, in addition to 12 indigenous members who were intercepted while loading supplies and never seen again.
Nearly 1,200 tribal members were arrested for this short-lived victory, which began a reign of terror on the reservation that included 61 unsolved murders, nearly 350 assaults by gunshots, stabbings, beatings, arson and cars being run off the road, as well as 562 arrests (only 15 resulted in a conviction). The “diversions” enabled the government to illegally remove rich molybdenum and uranium deposits from the nearby Gunnery Range.
But none of these events were mentioned. Instead, the camera showed the attractive reporter standing in front of a dilapidated fence decorated with weather-worn feathers and ribbons, as well as tattered t-shirts, making the burial ground seem insignificant, although it held nearly 300 Lakota men, women and children who were killed by the US Calvary, left frozen on the ground before being buried in a mass grave.
Back in the newsroom, Tom announced, “Sorry to cut away, Amanda, this just in…the US and Canada, as well as Mexico, have officially joined forces, determined to act before the tribes have a chance to use their black magic again.”
Zachary and Billy looked incredulously at each other, simultaneously reiterating, “Black magic!?”
The newscaster added, “We expect more countries to participate. Stay tuned for updates and...”
What have we done? Zachary fearfully worried about the ramifications.
Disgusted, Billy was about to shut off the TV when a foghorn-like sound blared from the set and a “Hurricane Warning” flashed on the screen.
The weatherman stood in front of a global map, explaining, “This is an important update. Numerous category five hurricanes are expected to make landfall within the next few days. They’re predicted to hit Mexico…” A red target icon appeared on the map. “Africa, Indonesia, Australia, the Philippines and Peru.” The map was covered with red targets.
The hairs on the back of Zachary’s neck stood up. “Oh, my God! One’s going to hit the Amazon rainforest…Conchita!” Wide-eyed and scared, he said, “We have to help her!”
Whale Totems
BECHARD, ZACHARY, BILLY and Chief Keme were gazing into the crystal ball when Conchita arrived, stepping through an invisible doorway.
Zachary’s face lit up at the sight of her.
Conchita strode toward the lanky young man.
When she reached him, he pulled her close, holding her tightly.
The men averted their gazes, giving the young lovers impromptu privacy. After what seemed a respectable amount of time, Billy coughed, trying to capture their attention. When that didn’t work, he held his hands to his mouth, calling out, “Lovebirds! We’re on a time crunch here!”
However, it was another voice that broke them apart. Pahtia, who had just entered the spirit realm, shouted, “CONCHITA! Get away from that boy!”
The startled young lovers stepped apart, but continued holding hands.
Pahtia stared disapprovingly at his daughter.
Billy broke the standoff by announcing, “Pahtia, there’s a hurricane headed toward your jungle!”
Pahtia did not understand the importance of the statement, since the tribe had endured many such storms in his lifetime.
Bechard interjected, “It’s not just a storm. It’s a man-made hurricane. Come see for yourself.” He waved his hand over the glass sphere, revealing the oceans obscured by swirling cloud formations. The scene magnified, dipping below the hurricane funnels, showing a Navy cruiser guarding a floating platform holding a glowing, white ball. “What you’re seeing is the newest weather warfare machine developed by the US government. Creating man-made storms is inexpensive compared to other methods, and the government doesn’t have to admit they attacked another country…they can simply blame it on God.” He chuckled at their ingeniousness. “But this time, they plan to blame the storms on the Earth Sentinels to gain public support for the war against us.”
Pahtia implored, “Why not talk to the hurricanes? Ask them to stop.”
“I tried…it didn’t work. Here, you try,” said Bechard, motioning for the shaman to step up.
Pahtia viewed the storm inside the crystal ball, shouting, “Hello! Can you hear me!?”
The storm cried, “What’s wrong with me? Help me!”
Pahtia shouted at the top of his lungs at the glass sphere, “STOP!” But the storm continued crying as if she never heard him.
Bechard explained, “The storm is overcome by the energy. After I destroy the government’s machines, it should be able to hear us.”
Chief Keme asked anxiously, “What about protecting the tribes from attack?”
“Of course!” Bechard responded, “We will take care of both, but first, I need to do this.” He placed his hand on the glass ball. Lightning erupted, racing through the sky toward the floating platform, striking the whirling ball. Its electric fingers sizzled over the orb, but failed to penetrate the mechanism. It was as if an invisible force field protected the weapon.
Pahtia grumpily asked, “What do we do now?”
Bechard seemed perturbed until an idea popped into his head. “I know some totem spirits who might help us.” He raised his arms and his blue-tipped wings expanded, making him resemble a magnificent deity. He closed his eyes, beckoning totem spirits from another realm.
A blue tint filled the air.
In the distance, whale calls echoed.
Splashing noises were heard.
Conchita’s hair floated in a phantom water current while a school of fish swam in front of her. Seaweed drifted past.
Zachary tried touching a fish, but it flitted away.
A Sperm Whale spirit swam into view, followed by Humpback, Blue, Beluga and Orca spirits blowing air out their blowholes. The sound reverberated throughout the realm.
Bechard was pleased by their arrival. “Welcome! Thank you for coming. The humans have developed another method for manipulating the weather and we need your help stopping them.”
The Sperm Whale was skeptical. “Why should we help?”
“Good question! We are trying to prevent mankind from ruining the planet. However, our power only goes so far. I tried destroying their hurricane-making machines, but the military installed a sophisticated lightning-rod system. I could overpower the machines with stronger lightning bolts, but that would electrify all the marine life within miles of the strikes.”
The whales listened, contemplating whether to participate or not.
“We need to destroy the machines as soon as possible!” Bechard declared. “Will you help us?”
The World’s Response
THE US PRESIDENT walked down a red-carpeted hallway, stopping at a podium with the official seal of the United States affixed to the front. He spoke into the camera, “Good afternoon, fellow Americans. For the past month, the world has been experiencing supernatural storms, but these events were minor compared to the devastation about to unfold. Level five hurricanes currently headed toward Peru, Mexico, Africa, Indonesia, Australia and the Philippines are about to cause unimaginable property damage and loss of life. It goes without saying, these countries have our heartfelt prayers and support.
“Our intelligence agencies and allies have confirmed that these storms were created by the geo-terrorists known as the Earth Sentinels, a group of indigenous people from around the world. This unfortunately includes our own North American tribes.
“In a humanitarian effort, we offered the US tribes an opportunity to relocate into monitored communities…an offer they steadfastly rejected. And
while this country has supported their freedoms in the past, the indigenous tribes have resisted assimilating into our society. The Earth Sentinels’ attacks have left us no choice but to take forceful action against them. May God have mercy on their souls.”
In the Congo, the prime minister fumed over the betrayal by his trusted advisor, confident that the shaman knew in advance about the hurricane headed his way. Now the people were rallying against him, thinking he was cursed. I need to demonstrate that I have control over this situation, the prime minister thought, pondering a solution. He yelled for his butler, who quickly responded, stopping obediently at the dining room entrance, waiting for his instructions. “Tell Manyara to come here.”
A few minutes later, the out-of-breath driver appeared holding his cap between his hands. “Sir, you asked for me?”
“You drove a man, a shaman, home last month. Remember?”
“Yes, well...actually, I didn’t drive him home. After a few miles, he got out. Said he wanted to walk the rest of—”
The prime minster screamed, “I asked you to do one thing! One thing!”
The driver lowered his head. “I couldn’t force him to—”
“Get out!” the prime minister commanded, watching the driver scurry down the hall before making a phone call to his deputy minister. “Lionel? I need you to get me a dozen prisoners who were sentenced for witchcraft.” He paused to listen. “Because we’re going to make examples out of them.”
In Russia, the president glared over the city, trying to figure out how to round up the shamans responsible for the current predicament. During the 1920s, Russians went on a bloody rampage killing all known shamans. In the early 1980s, the government officially announced there were no more shamans alive in its country.
Do I admit there are shamans? Or do I blame the storms on shamans from other countries that foolishly let them live? The president contemplated his choices, finally deciding, Let the other countries do the dirty work. What few shamans we have left couldn’t possibly have created these disasters.
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