I sat there, too stunned to speak. It was to be a trying day, very draining due to the emotional charge. I could not help thinking of my friends, of other family members. Surely this could not be happening. I was hoping beyond hope that my father was wrong, but the on-going TV coverage and satellite imagery were available all day from the TV in the Hole as I had nicknamed the underground lair my father had created. The financial markets were apparently already in turmoil. On one of my frequent trips into the sun that day, I noticed my father talking to my mother way into the trees behind the house. He walked her back after about ten minutes and sat with her quietly. She did not look good – devastated would be an apt description.
We ate little that evening. It had been the longest day of my life, out of contact with everyone I knew and knowing what I knew from Dad. How did one deal with that, dammit? The TV was still on, with the commentary turned down. That overly dramatized reporting style had always irritated my father. After putting my mother to bed, he came over to me. ‘Watch mom, please. I have given her a sedative, but she doesn’t know. Just let her sleep. I need to go do something. It will take me about four hours. Stay inside.’
‘Where are you going?’ He looked at me sadly. ‘It’s happening tonight. I’ll see you later.’ A quick hug and he was gone. Alone, with mom sleeping, the situation seemed to close in on me, and I struggled to breathe. I wanted out of the Hole, but outside right now was equally terrifying. I looked at my mom, sleeping quietly, and focused on her, using my memories of her strength and resolve to quiet my mind, to help me to breathe. Gradually I came back into some semblance of control.
Glancing at the TV, I realized over an hour had passed. I had automatically assumed that my father had taken the car, yet I had not heard him go. It seems his soundproofing was very effective. Although it was night where we were, the South Pole was close to midsummer, so the satellites had no problem getting daylight images of the ice cap. On top of this, long-range aircraft from a number of countries, as well as those privately hired by the different TV stations were sending back images from various parts of the cap. Even without the commentary, the rising tension could be felt. It was palpable. Was this from the TV or simply my inner sense? I checked on Mom and headed for the outside.
It was a lovely warm, wind-still evening, with a crescent moon hanging lazily about halfway above the horizon providing a dim light over the fields. I checked up on Mom now and then, but I could not remain alone in the Hole. Over the hours, my tension slowly eased, and my breathing became deeper and slower. As the moon prepared to drop into the horizon, I felt a sudden chill run through my entire body. It seemed suddenly as if everything out there had stopped, just simply stopped. It was hard to explain this feeling and for a short while I was at a loss as to what it meant. After a minute or two, it struck me. The insects too had stopped their night music – all of them. Had it happened? As I stood up off the grass to go inside and check the TV, I heard a vehicle in the eerie stillness. I waited, hoping it was Dad. I felt a terrible weight bearing down on me, and I needed him around now. The lights of the vehicle were headed this way, along the only road in.
Watching from the cover of the trees until I was sure, I walked out to the car as he pulled up as close as he could to the entrance to the Hole. Opening the door of the vehicle activated the interior light. There were other people in the car! My spirits lifted. He had fetched Ouma and Granny. I grabbed him and squeezed him in a serious hug. He jumped in my arms, having not seen me while he stood for a moment outside the vehicle.
‘It’s happened’ he said simply.
‘I felt it too’ I replied to his statement.
‘Help me get them inside.’ They both hugged and kissed me, Ouma saying more than once, as we assisted her through the low opening and into the Hole, that she was “happy to be going on holiday with us”. My dad followed us in, assisting his mother through the opening. His mother was full of questions, and she must have driven him a little crazy on the trip in, I suspected. She could talk, his mother.
As he came in behind me with Granny he noticed me standing, rigid, in front of the TV. Ouma was looking around, oblivious to the happenings on the TV, seeming to admire her “holiday accommodations”, doing her usual best not to offend anyone. Dad watched for a moment, the particular broadcast showing a high-altitude view of what looked like a white continent on the move. Its sheer size made it look slow, but already almost half the ice cap was off the land and into the sea.
‘How big is that thing?’ I asked.
‘Probably at least about one third of the size of the United States, perhaps bigger’ replied my father as he headed for the door. “Keep an eye on Ouma, I need to move the car,” and he was gone.
I tore my eyes off the TV long enough to offer the two old ladies some coffee or tea. As usual though, Granny asked for a “stywe dop”, in her case, referring to a large glass of wine.
‘No such luck, Granny. This place is dry’ I said, referring to the absence of alcohol. Dad had mentioned that although we may feel we could do with a drink after what was going to happen, it would not be wise, so he had simply refrained from wasting storage space. ‘In that case tea will do, was her reply. While busy with the tea, I watched the TV, not being able to take my eyes off it for more than a few moments at a time. I placed the tea and ouma’s coffee on the simple table at which the old ladies now sat, caught by the drama unfolding on the TV. I know my ouma did not grasp the scale of what was happening, which was to prove a good thing for her along with her increasing loss of memory. My gran too, at this point, did not yet fully appreciate the scale of it, but she would later. She adapted surprisingly well though, something I am certain my father had not been expecting.
Looking up from placing the cups, the picture had changed to that from one of the lower-altitude aircraft, somewhat offshore it seemed. It was filming the wave, and from this perspective and altitude, it simply looked like a rather large ripple in a pond as a consequence of there being no frame of reference out in the open ocean. The cameraman began zooming in, and I picked up the TV remote to increase the volume, not realizing the commentators were simply dumbstruck and not saying anything. The “good heavens! There’s a ship down there,” came through loud and startled all of us, including Dad coming in through the blanket hanging over the entrance. I reduced the volume to a manageable level while watching the picture zooming in as the cameraman tried to see the ship better. Sure enough, there it was, a large container ship, already dropping down as the leading edge of the wave trough ahead of the wave itself bore under it. ‘It’s over for them’ said my father. ‘The wave is too big and fast for the ship’s buoyancy to save it.’ Sure enough, as the leading edge of the wave reached the ship it appeared at first as if it was going to rise up the wave but only a little way up the wave slope, the ship simply disappeared into the wave, the crew having not the slightest chance as the water closed over it, leaving no visible trace of its existence. The panic and terror in the commentary from the TV crew was chilling, and I muted the sound as quickly as I could. That large ship had appeared tiny in comparison to the wave and had finally given some perspective to the viewers as to the size of the wave.
My father broke the disturbing silence, trying to take our minds off what we had just heard. ‘That is the displacement wave. It’s caused by the ice plunging into the sea and simply pushing the water out of the way. Behind this first wave will be a massive rise in sea level, a tsunami-type wave that will also travel far inland, but that will result in the inundation of the entire continental coastline as well as flooding large portions inland where the wave will overtop hills and lower mountains between the coastline and inland areas. I think there will also be another set of waves later, waves caused by the ‘pulse’ effect when the ice finally leaves land and drops fully into the water. The weight and speed will cause it initially to submerge, who knows how deep, and then rise again to the surface, overextend
ing, and going down again, repeating until the buoyancy settles. Much like when you drop something that can float into the bathtub. This action will create a series of on-going waves for who knows how long. They will only stop when the enormous amount of energy being released here finally dissipates.’
The sombre mood and our discussion had woken my mother. She was standing behind us, watching not the TV but my father. When he felt her gaze and turned, I saw her mouth a quiet ‘thank you’ and then hug her mother from behind as she sat in the chair. Her mother-in-law also got a hug, which prompted her to speak. I suppose it was too good to last. ‘Your husband robbed a pharmacy’ she said to my mom, who still appeared somewhat drugged. ‘What?’ was all mom could muster.
Dad explained he did not rob the pharmacy. After picking up the old ladies, he had stopped at a late night pharmacy to get more insulin. He had told the young pharmacist that he had found out his mother, sitting in the car outside, was out of insulin, and could he get just one unit without prescription to get her through the night safely. The young pharmacist on the night shift was not comfortable with this without a prescription, but watching the TV and all the associated drama was obviously upsetting her, and she reluctantly agreed, possibly simply in an attempt to get rid of my father so she could concentrate again on the TV. Once my father saw where she kept it, he dumped the money he had removed from the safe at home on the counter, walked around with the packet he was carrying, and simply took the entire stock of insulin on the shelf. ‘If the money is not enough, my name and address are on that piece of paper. Call me in the morning and I will arrange the rest of the payment.’ He then left, driving away before either the young lass or the security guard, who had been absorbed by the TV drama, could do anything about it.
I looked around, the practical aspect of having the two old ladies present now coming home to roost. My dad noticed this, and beckoning to me to follow, disappeared into the deeper recesses of the Hole, walking between his piles of stores. I caught up with him, and he handed me a simple foam mattress. He followed behind, back to the living section, with another mattress. I had not taken notice earlier, but there was a recess next to my room, formed by the packages and boxes. The two mattresses fitted quite comfortably. He disappeared, coming back with a pillow and blanket for each. It appears my dad had prepared for the eventuality that he was unable to fully follow through with what I was beginning to understand was a necessary requirement for survival.
Having them here now, I realized the challenges we were going to face to make this work had increased many fold. In our requirement to try to save others, we had placed a significantly increased burden on ourselves, and I suspected more heavily on my father. I saw now why he had planned this ahead of time and moved us early. The simple fact was that at this point I was having difficulty with even the most basic thinking. In this state, how could you think lucidly and do anything constructive? And to top this off, we were apparently part of a seriously small minority of people who were prepared – but we were, thanks to my father, of course. I could not imagine how most others were going to take this, and we had still seen very little of the destruction I was now sure was to come.
Chapter 18
A cheeky call from the rondavel door brought me back to the present.
‘I have breakfast for you two lazybones.’ I recognized Jenna’s voice. She was a real sweetie and had made it her mission to ensure everyone got breakfast. After the night guards, of course; they deserved to be first. Angela released me and stood up. When had she moved closer? I had not been aware of it at all. Going to the door, she greeted and thanked Jenna.
Jenna stared at Angela for a moment, and then, bless her, said, ‘I’ll fetch you two some tea, you look like you need it’ and disappeared. Angela returned to where I was now sitting and handed me the plate. As much as I did not feel like eating at that point, I forced myself to do so, understanding the amount of energy reserves I had probably been consuming with my narrative.
Jenna had left the door open, which was not a problem at this time of day. It was a simple device and consisted of a frame braided with thin twigs that had dried and hardened, akin to wicker. Although closely woven to allow a minimum of aperture, it was light and was able to slot into a groove in the floor; when hooked by the loops attached on the upper section of the door frame on each side it would fit snugly enough to prevent snakes from getting in. Scorpions too, were a concern at night, especially the small, flat, black one. We had two cases to date, one fatal on a young boy, the other older person surviving. Probably as a consequence of the ratio of venom to body mass, but I had no way of knowing for sure.
We ate in silence. Jenna was right, Angela looked troubled.
Jenna arrived before we were finished eating and simply left the tea on the small table, leaving without a word. I would need to thank her when I saw her again, especially as I later found out she had spread the word in the village to leave us be and be quiet around us. Drinking the tea, I noticed it was sweet. Jenna, you are an angel. There was no one more loving and caring than her in the village.
I looked at Angela over the top of the mug. ‘I apologise for disturbing you so.’
‘It’s alright,’ she replied, ‘I just cannot imagine what it must be like to be forced to leave people behind and to watch what you were watching.’ It seems Angela was intuitive enough to sense closely what I felt. That was a good sign, but one had to learn to be empathic without necessarily taking on the pain of the other. Doing so could easily exhaust you and render you ineffective. I would need to discuss this with her soon.
The fact that our village, as well as the other two, saw no black art in what we are able to sense and do, but rather saw it as positive in the village, was a major objective my father had drilled into me.
‘We have to ensure the soft aspects, the esoteric if you want to call it that, are seen as a positive. It cannot be allowed to be supressed as it was in the past, causing millennia of strife and pain again simply because people did not understand it. You have to find others with your sensitivity, your skills, and pass on what you know to as many as possible, ensuring they see it all as a positive and natural aspect of life.’
Well, it looks like we are succeeding so far, Dad, I thought to myself. A shiver went through me, and I felt his energy all around. He had always told me that the shiver, especially with the hair standing erect on his body, indicated for him categorically that what he was busy with, or thinking about, was correct. It seems the same was true for me. Bringing my attention back to Angela, I continued the story.
‘We watched the chilling unfolding of the catastrophe the remainder of the night and through the next day. The old ladies slept on and off, especially my ouma. I don’t think she had the capacity anymore to comprehend the extent of the situation, and she kept forgetting what was happening in any event. I suppose for her this simply appeared a bit of an adventure. My gran, however, in the early hours of the morning, finally made the connection and asked my dad when the other kids were coming. Although he must have been anticipating this question, his shoulders slumped visibly. He tried to hide the tears in his eyes but failed quite miserably to do so.’
‘“They are not coming,” he said simply, trying to avoid her gaze.’
‘My gran stared at him for a few seconds, and then said quietly, “What do you mean?” I believe the question was simply an automatic response, her face beginning to pale and crumble.’
“‘Simply what I said, they are not coming. Look around you. We cannot put them up here. It would mean the end for all of us. This planet is going to see a drastic reduction of human population, and we are going to struggle to survive against the appalling change the majority of the population is going to go through. I believe some of us have to survive with the knowledge we have, to assist in building mankind up again quickly, back to civilized man, man who respects others, nature, and the universe. Failure to pass
this on quickly and effectively will see us back in the Stone Age. We all have to do what we can, and many of us are going to die trying to do it.” My gran sat there, clearly devastated and with tears in her eyes, but said nothing further, her eyes reverting to the TV and the pictures of the wave already crashing along the shores of South America, New Zealand, and shortly South Africa.’
‘The wave was terrifying to watch. Estimates put it at well over 175 metres high, out at sea! Coming on shore, it seemed to take on a life of its own, climbing higher and higher, engulfing city after city. Small towns were simply swept away, the debris swept either inland or further along the shore, acting as battering rams against whatever it encountered. If anyone in its path survived, it would have been a miracle. The tsunami pictures we had seen from a few years before this paled into insignificance by comparison. This was not a shallow surge in the level of the sea. This was a fast-moving, gigantic, amorphous mass of water with no conscience, no ability to comprehend its actions or the consequences thereof. Its momentum took it far inland, even up steep slopes in the topography, often spilling vast quantities of water into valleys beyond the sea shore. When the upward flow stopped, it simply reversed and went back out to sea, taking debris, animals, and people indiscriminately. Anyone who survived the inrush surely perished in the retreat of the water back to the sea, crushed and shredded by the maelstrom of moving, thrashing debris – debris which at times was the size of medium buildings. Sickening as it was, I could not at the time help thinking about the bonus the predators and scavengers of the sea were receiving. “Something positive always arises out of something negative, and vice versa” I remember my father saying more than once ’
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