‘Scenes from areas further north, ahead of the wave strike to come, were extremely unpleasant with people trying to exit the coastal areas for higher ground. This was almost futile, as nowhere had we built our cities and roads to cater for this. The rapidly escalating panic simply resulted in the systems failing and the roadways becoming blocked. The mounting terror in the people involved was a dreadful thing to watch. Already we could see the civilized veneer falling off as people attacked each for the slightest perceived restraint against what they wanted to do, or if they felt they were being deprived of something others appeared to be getting. Here age had no respect, with able-bodied people, mostly adults, attacking all in their perceived path to safety, whether they were young, old and frail, or disabled, it made no difference. The authorities, those in any event still trying to assist, were simply ineffective and became targets for the anger and despair infecting the population at large.’
‘There were no more views of the oncoming wave towards any coastal cities, even from higher ground. The ability of the wave to sweep up and over what people thought was high-enough ground – resulting in the on-going disappearance of these cameras – had filtered through to the TV crews who now, like others, were trying to get to much higher ground and as far from the sea shore as possible. There was still coverage from aircraft though and from ground crews who realized the futility of trying to escape. These often continued filming and transmitting to the end, showing the scenes of pathetic despair, anger, panic, or simple resignation to their fate by the people in the path of the wave.’
‘The inundation of nuclear power stations in New Zealand, South Africa, and Australia was now prompting others further north to shut down ahead of the wave. Being placed along the coastline to utilise the seawater as coolant, or as in Europe along the major rivers but in mostly low-lying areas, the vast majority of these were going to be inundated. With the memory of the damage and potential nuclear exposure that occurred in Japan a few years before, these stations were either instructed to shut down or simply did so voluntarily. Most were just placed into auto emergency shutdown as the operators fled to gather their families and attempt to leave the areas. The resultant power outages were beginning to affect the newscasts, which were reducing in the number of different stations covering the event. Where we were located, we continued to have power during this as we received power from coal-fired generation plants, and we were very high above sea level. According to my father, less than 5 per cent of the world’s population lived anywhere near our altitude.
‘“Think of the northern hemisphere: it’s middle of winter, power and gas supplies are gone, and the vast majority of the cities, in Europe especially, are covered in sea water.” It was a sobering thought. I realized we had become so dependent on our amenities, and on others looking out for our welfare, that few knew how to look after themselves without it. It looked like my dad’s forethought was correct, seeing what he had done so far. I sure hoped it was enough after seeing what mankind, in this short space of time since the start of the wave, was capable of doing under panic conditions. I could not help wondering how I would have behaved in those conditions, and I prayed I would never have to find out. My thinking was interrupted by a question from my gran, directed at my father.’
‘“Why didn’t you warn them, let them also prepare for this?” Her voice was trembling, barely audible. Again, it was quite apparent that this hurt my father deeply. He took a moment before replying.’
‘“Everyone in the family, even my acquaintances, thought I was a little strange, right?” My gran said nothing. “If I had come to you eighteen months ago and said you must stop what you are doing, use all your time and money to build something like this,” he gestured around him, “and be ready to climb into it as the world is going to end as we know it, what would you have said and done?”’
‘In a way, it was a little brutal, but I suppose it was meant for Mom and me as well. The reality was, everyone would have laughed at him, and we would have ignored him. He had been right all along. Mankind would not change; he would not stop his comforts despite the damage to the world, until forced by circumstances to do so. He would always believe that it would not happen to him, and that it was up to someone else to make the necessary sacrifices.’
‘My dad continued, “Years ago, when a number of people built radiation shelters in fear of the potential nuclear war between the United States and Russia, they were labelled as crackpots, weirdo’s, and worse, and people laughed at them. Yet in reality, and what few people know, is that we came within seventeen seconds of exactly that nuclear holocaust due to a simple misunderstanding. Were they wrong to do what they did? If they still have those available, I am sure those who built them are going to use them.” Thinking on this for a few minutes, I realised how right he was. I had been close to him, and even after our discussions months earlier, I did not seriously believe it would happen until it actually happened. I remember my father admonishing me on the unnecessary riding around in my car, the excessive shower duration, and so on.’
‘“Just because you can afford to, doesn’t mean you should. Just because we have a solar geyser, doesn’t mean you can use excessive hot water. What about the water use? It’s more water contaminated, more water to be treated in the water works, more power and chemicals to treat it.” I must admit, I was simply too comfortable to take him very seriously, in even these aspects of life. What chance was there of anyone else believing him with respect to a comment such as the “world is going to end”? There was enough evidence of the way the world had ridiculed and laughed at those who had been saying exactly that over the past number of years’
‘My heart went out to him then. Knowing what he did, and also knowing that the knowledge would not benefit anyone else, simply because they would not take him seriously, must have been heart breaking for him. If he had approached his siblings to help him prepare something big enough for all, there would have been all manner of excuses, as normal, and he would still have had to do the vast majority of the work alone – except that then it would not have been finished in time, and they would all have arrived here expecting to simply walk in and benefit from it. How many of them too would have been able to resist the temptation to discuss their crackpot family member with others, exposing the place even further. Having seen the panic so far I could only imagine what would have occurred had people arrived expecting to be catered for and protected, and then be told it was not possible and they must leave. Hard as it was to accept, I understood now why none of the family had been shown or told where this property was. If they were not willing to believe or do their own work preparing, then I suppose it was fair that they found their own way. At least that’s how I justified it to myself, probably to reduce the feeling of guilt at having survived, while who knows what has happened, or was still going to happen to them. How then, must my father feel with this burden?’
‘Was I wrong in believing that?’ Angela looked up at me, and I saw that she was crying quietly. I noticed by the sudden coolness that my shoulder was wet where she had been resting her head.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said.
‘No, it’s alright, I am crying for you. I cannot imagine what being in that situation must do to you.’
I cradled her head back into my shoulder, thinking at how busy we had been back then all those years ago at simply surviving within the aftermath, and how this had assisted in lessening the trauma of the decisions leading up to our taking residence in the Hole.
Chapter 19
I woke slowly, feeling the pain in my left hip coming into my consciousness. Damn, I had slept for too long on one side again. Rubbing it firmly, I rolled over, trying to get my bearings. There was something strange about where I was. It took a few moments before it came to me. I was in one of the other villages, the smaller one closest to us. I remembered now. I had come to see Peter, who was the unofficial leader of the village but the
one whom everyone respected and simply accepted as such.
Arriving yesterday late, I had surprised them, as I no longer travelled, fearing my frailty could jeopardise those accompanying me. Two young lads had travelled with me, carrying the water and provisions we needed for the nearly three-day trip – for my pace at any rate.
After a meal for myself and my companions, I had a few quiet moments with Peter. He agreed to let me speak with the village after their communal dinner that next evening. I had decided I would pass the day talking and answering questions from their sensitive ones, the ones we had charged in this village to retain and grow the broader and deeper knowledge base of our coexistence with nature. I also needed to spend time alone with Jim, to test his feelings and obtain his impressions on the changes I felt. It was still too early though, and I lay there in the dark, still massaging my hip and knowing from experience I was not going to enjoy it when the circulation came back. My mind returned to the story I had continued to tell Angela, consoling her first for a few moments by stroking her hair, just as my father had done to me when I had got stressed or depressed. Sensing her calming down, I had continued.
‘We were able to watch for another almost full day before the power went off in our area. Few stations were still broadcasting up until then, those being located in the few high-altitude areas populated around the world, including here in South Africa. Even they were going off the air abruptly as the power supply in their areas stopped. The remaining presenters by this stage were dumbstruck and numb, and I assumed they either had no family or had a warped sense of loyalty to the job. Any hint of artistic flair had long since evaporated, and they simply pointed the cameras and described the scenes with a growing acknowledgement that the world as they knew it was no more. It was obvious they were beginning to resign themselves to whatever now befell them.’
‘We had seen the surge come in from the footage of a few remaining stalwart TV cameramen using aircraft from the airfields at the higher altitude, showing the rising sea level due to the enormous volume of ice that had slid into the sea. This was slower, much slower, but the inexorable rise was unnerving to watch as the previous destruction was simply covered in water: whole towns, villages, and most cities simply disappearing under the water. Only the tallest buildings in any city close to shore still showed some presence above the water – those that had not been bulldozed by the wave in any event. It was hard not to believe it was simply a Hollywood disaster movie. The disappearance of those settlements beneath the waves brought my thoughts to the undersea cities my father had discussed with me before. They had apparently succumbed over a period of time, sufficient time for the people to move all but the heaviest stone structures as the ice had melted rather than plunging into the sea.
‘During this time, we had seen some awful things. Exactly as my father had predicted, people began to panic almost immediately and behave irrationally, even those nowhere near the disaster areas and in no danger of being flooded. Faced with the pending loss of their support systems, people had begun looting food stores the very same day the catastrophe began. By evening of that first day, there was chaos in the towns and cities we saw, with little or no semblance of control by the authorities – and this in less than twenty-four hours after the catastrophe had begun to unfold. “So much for the disaster planning of national governments,” I heard my father mutter. Watching all this before the power went off was both fascinating, in a macabre sort of way, and terrifying, seeing how fast the civilized veneer was stripped off the human being.’
‘Are we really that shallow?’ I asked Angela.
In my pause, Angela said quietly, ‘I don’t think so. Fear is a terrible thing. Remember what we have done to survive? You will do anything to protect the people you love from being hurt.’ Recalling what we had done to the renegade group that threatened us, I had to agree, but the thought was less than comforting. We had survived that terrible, seemingly senseless time, only to appear to have operated in a similar manner to survive. What was the difference between us and them, then, if there was one? I could not immediately find an answer, and it was disquieting to be in that position. I put this into my subconscious, and continued.
‘Over the next month, my father kept us strictly contained, allowing only short periods outside the Hole in the sunlight. This period outside was necessary, for both our health and sanity, for the time spent inside was claustrophobic. Not knowing what was occurring outside of our small environment was maddening, and coming to terms with what had occurred, accepting that whatever life and plans we thought we had before us had simply vaporised, was extremely tough. Our minds simply did not want to go there, and dad insisted on discussing it, bringing it into the open, forcing us to discuss the reality, to plan how we were going to live. I understand now that he already knew what we had to do, but he was using this approach to get us to focus on the future and get away from the past.’
‘“There is nothing we can do about the past now – lamenting it is a waste of time and energy and will in all probability get us killed. Focus on what is, on what we need to do.” My father was unyielding in this approach, and I have to admit, I would have simply succumbed to self-pity, despair, and inability to function had he not done so.’
‘Slowly, and with the disaster pictures fading in our minds as my father replaced them with pictures of what needed doing, we were able to drag ourselves out of the comfortable lethargy of self-pity and back into reality. What toll this took on him, I can only imagine, as I can still clearly recall how tough it had been for me to pull myself back up, and he had three of us to drag with him back to a semblance of functionality. Ouma was not a problem here, as she simply did not comprehend for long enough to understand the enormous gravity of what had occurred.’
‘We were forced to watch Ouma carefully though, as she simply forgot our situation and headed off “to check the flowers” or for some other reason known only to her. Luckily, getting out of the low entrance proved difficult for her old body, and we were usually able to get to her before she got out. It was an indication of how deep in thought we all were that even in that confined space she could still get that far without someone noticing. Mom took strain with this, seeing the problem now and knowing she had precipitated Dad to fetch them. Granny helped here though, taking some of the strain off Mom and giving her a break where she could spend some time with Dad outside or, on occasion, with me.’
‘Dad had some sort of sixth sense going which he must have been able to develop while being alone on the plot, away from the bustle and stress of normal life back then. He always knew when someone was in the area, and despite being quite secure, it was unnerving with the need to be especially quiet and having to endure the wait until he gave the all clear. This was taking its toll, as it went on day and night, sometimes a number of times per day. Mostly the groups were eerily quiet, not at all normal. “Out scouting or hunting for food,” my dad explained. “You don’t announce your presence if you need to surprise others and not be surprised by them.” Until then, I had not noticed that the groups kept to the trees wherever they could.’
‘I had not initially noticed the change in the groups, but after five weeks it struck me. “The groups are smaller,” I remarked to my dad.’
‘“People are dying from fighting, starvation, and disease. It will get worse.” A chill ran through me as I realised that there was no one to bury the dead. There must be simply too many. That thought and the pictures my mind conjured up occupied a section of my brain for days before I was able to gain control again. My dad had noticed my despondency and made a huge effort to keep me occupied, discussing many of the aspects that we needed to master to have any chance of survival. Without that support, I am not sure where my mind would have wandered, so what chance did all those people in the cities and towns have, in the middle of all that fighting, deprivation, and lack of hope?’
‘After about six weeks, and at my query
as to whether I could help out, my father began to spend more time with me, firstly outside, hidden from view in the trees surrounding the entrance to the Hole. “Practice to quieten your mind, and then simply listen to the world around you.” I eventually plucked up the courage to ask what I was listening for. “The changes in the energy – everything is energy, remember?” I had nodded, but how does one listen for energy, I had asked? It had elicited a small smile, and I was grateful for that. It was the first smile I had seen on him since the day he had collected Mom and I and brought us out here. “When we have intense emotions, or are aggravated or fearful, as all of the people passing through have been, it affects the energy fields around us. You need to also listen with your body, which is an antenna for both receiving and sending energy signals.”’
‘I sat quietly, trying to digest this. “Remember a few days ago? You were sitting with me when those three men walked by a few hundred metres away and one of them suddenly turned and looked our way. I told you to be calm, not to move, and I stroked your neck and upper back.” I could not honestly recall that part and simply nodded. “The contact, and stroking you as I did, relaxed you and slowed your breathing. Your high energy level of fear subsided, and he lost the thread, causing him to feel he had been mistaken, and he had moved on. I also forced you to stop looking at them by redirecting your attention. If you focus directly on something with intent, it will feel it and respond. When observing, you need to be detached, and not to focus on something directly. That way the object of your attention has little to go on and will generally not become aware of your attention”’
0.0.0.0 Would Our Legacy Survive? Page 14