Stone Age

by ML Banner

  STONE AGE

  M.L. Banner

  STONE AGE is an original work of fiction.

  The characters and dialogs are the products of this author’s vivid imagination.

  Most of the science and the historical incidents described in this novel are based on reality, and so are its warnings.

  Copyright © 2014 by M.L. Banner,

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Cover Art: Keri Knutson

  Editor: Frankie Sutton

  Toes in the Water Publishing, LLC

  September 2nd, 1859

  Denver City, Western Kansas Territory

  Russell Thompson knew he was about to die.

  A fiery projectile from the heavens hit only a few feet from where he stood. Churning earth and burning debris lifted him up and over the camp, and discarded him into a pile of timber already ablaze. The flaming hell which was enveloping him and his mortal injuries worked at his consciousness. Before succumbing to the cruelness of his fate, Russell pushed back, willing himself to remember the euphoria of the providence that was supposed to be his.

  He was going to be rich. His father would have finally respected him. A tip from a dying man brought him here, leading to a vein of gold, and his destiny.

  Then destiny changed.

  He was wakened this morning by the same unearthly forces still jarring him from oblivion. It started as a sparkle, what seemed like the early morning light bleeding through his little tent, in an urban encampment.

  Maybe two hours past Midnight, it was too early for sunlight. Yet prospectors were stirring in their tents, and outside, others were preparing their breakfasts and getting ready to stake their own claim in the mountains nearby.

  Exiting the tent, he witnessed a sky beyond explanation. There were red, green, and even blue snake-like tubes of sparkling light, slithering in the sky above them. They were like gigantic ghostly serpents suspended above by unseen wires and moving in unnatural ways. The light from these celestial beasts bathed everything below in an eerie shimmering luminescence; bright enough that it looked like the sun had already partially risen.

  Then sparks and fire along the telegraph line, followed by the telegraph office exploding, and finally the Cherry Creek Saloon erupted an inferno, launching flaming cannonball-like debris into the air.

  A roar from the sky called him. He looked straight up and saw a reddish snake slithering out of the hellish nightmare above. It seemed to look right at him, just as his father often looked at him, with anger and disappointment. His snake-father then started to shake and pulsate, looking now more like a giant dragon, who glared his scorn and hatred right at Russell. It grew before his eyes, swollen by all the years of angry words and disdain towards his son, which could no longer be held back. The father-like dragon snake opened his mouth and erupted violence in the form of one of those fiery cannonballs. This one was reserved just for him.

  Dreaded realization hit him. He was about to be consumed by flames. There was no running away from his punishment. He would not realize his destiny after all.

  His eyes flickered open, aware he was moving, floating, his legs smoldering. Trying hard to focus, his vision cleared just enough to see. Pete, his best friend, mouthing words he couldn’t hear or understand, was carrying him. Finally, he could no longer hold his eyes open, allowing the peace of unconsciousness to take him away.

  “A Time Long ago…”

  The Valley of the Colo Tribe

  A solitary figure sat on top of the only hill in the valley. From a distance, his outline was unmistakable compared to the smooth pile of stones on the bare hill that made up his rocky seat; the colorful evening sky illuminated him. Gord did what no member of the Colo Tribe was allowed to do, he dared look up at the night sky. Doing this was not only against the rules, but was an action that tempted retribution from the snake demons which owned the night.

  No one was to ever gaze upon the eyes of a snake demon or they, and maybe their whole family, would be cursed with The Growth, and surely die. Prolonged angering might bring its wrath upon the whole tribe. Were he not a visitor, he would have likely been cast out as punishment; it was a certain death in the harsh environment outside the tribe, with food and water in short supply.

  The main reason for the Colo tribe’s consent to his night gazing activities was because Gord was considered a traveler. Few travelers were alive anymore, but when one passed through, they were afforded a high standing among the tribe’s elders. Their traditions, told through stories, always beginning with, “A long time ago…,” spoke of travelers, who were considered wise, some even having special powers. His father’s father, Stepha explained the origin of this was because of the original traveler who, before the mass death and The Growth and the colorful night skies, prophesied the coming of all of it. That traveler also foretold of a day when a future traveler would return and bring salvation to everyone. All tribes, like the Colo watched for this prophesied traveler.

  However, Gord had a job to do and he could not be concerned with their shortsighted superstitions. From his vista, he could see the whole valley, lit by their so-called “snake demons.” He searched methodically, unmoving, looking for some glimpse of the map he had memorized. Then he shifted his examination the measure of one hand length to his left and searched more, analyzing what he saw. Like the rising and setting sun, his head followed a similar track slowly from one side to the other, carefully surveying every part of his surroundings with an eye towards the mountains.

  There it was! The unmistakable three-pointed mountaintop as far as his eyes could focus. He quickly jerked his head to the left and then the right, making sure no one could see what he did next. He focused on the folded leather hide in his lap. Gently he drew open each end of its protective cover. When all four ends were unfolded, he examined with reverence what it held: a clamshell object with flat sides and wisdom within. Opening it up and examining its contents, he looked again at the three pointed peaks before him, now with more familiarity.

  A slight smile formed on his lips. He had found the clue that would lead him to Cicada.

  To: Maxwell Thompson

  From: bulletins@CMEResearchInstitute.org

  Subject: Increased CME Activity Expected

  BULLETIN

  25 June

  With its significant sunspot activity at the peak of an eleven-year cycle, we expect substantial Coronal Mass Ejection or CME activity from the sun over the next few days.

  Using observed and analyzed data from SDO, Hubble, ISS, and other satellites, a Solar Proton Event (SPE) was recorded measuring 100MeV, followed by two large CME’s. We estimate approximately 4% of the released magnetic fields and plasma will make contact with Earth’s geomagnetic fields in approximately 10 hours. In addition to satellite disruptions, and some minor ground based electrical disruptions around the poles, there will be above normal aurora activity in both the Northern and Southern Hemispheres, especially over Asia.

  For more information go to www.CMEResearchInstitute.org and click on “Bulletins.”

  1.

  The Kings

  June 25th

  O’Hare Airport

  Four days before the world they knew ended, Bill & Lisa King boarded a plane to Tucson, Arizona, where they planned to meet their adult daughter Sally, and then drive to their family’s beach house in Rocky Point, Mexico for a ten-day vacation. Initially, there would just be the three of them. Four days later, their two youngest, Darla, who was twenty-one and Danny, who was ten would fly all the way, joining the whole family on the beach. Since Sally had left for college and then went to work in Tucson, the
Kings had not vacationed as a family. It was no easy task, as Lisa had been planning this vacation for what seemed like the better part of a year. After last July fourth, when everyone complained, due to a jumble of excuses that the family never got together, Lisa put her foot down and said there would be no further discussion. They were getting together on the beach. Ever since all had agreed to “the trip,” Lisa has been giddy with excitement, often starting out the family phone conversations with, “You wanna talk about our trip?”

  Bill was different. He was more dispassionate about their trip until last week when a reminder on his iPhone calendar sang out with its announcing horn, reminding him the trip was almost here. At that moment, he realized for the first time in almost year, he would not be working 70 hour weeks, staring at two monitors and occupying his thoughts with all the worries his growing business required. Instead, he would be reading an eBook on his Kindle, drinking Margaritas, lounging by their pool or simply slipping his “toes in the water, ass in the sand,” as the Zach Brown song emoted. Mostly, he would be enjoying his wife and family in a few short days.

  That day was today.

  They were the second couple to pre-board the Boeing 757, and because they had accumulated over 2 million frequent flyer miles, due to Bill’s frequent use of their rewards credit card for his Internet-based business, they were flying First Class all the way to Tucson. There was the negative of having to take the later flight. However, in a way, it was his preference, as they would be driving through Mexico at night, when there were fewer drivers on the roads and the Mexican agricultural inspectors and local police were at home asleep, meaning almost no chance of their being stopped at the border or in the border town. In other words, smooth traveling all the way to the beach.

  “Good afternoon, welcome aboard,” greeted a flight attendant while hanging up the first passenger’s sports coat.

  After the doorway and turning left, another Disneyland-happy flight attendant greeted them with, “Good Evening. Can I help you find your seats?” she asked warmly, and just genuinely enough to be believable.

  “Those are ours,” Lisa said from behind, thrusting out her arm with two fingers pointing to 3C & 3D, two aisle seats across from each other.

  “Yes, ah, Mr. & Mrs. King?” The flight attendant looked up for confirmation in their faces, “What would you like to drink?”

  Bill felt a buzzing from his pocket. Dropping his bag onto his seat, but still clutching it with his one hand, he pulled out his ringing iPhone from his jean’s pocket and answered it with his other, “Hi, Dar. Your mom and I just boarded the plane. Did you pick up Danny from camp?” He cradled the phone between his shoulder and head and listened. “Okay…” He plopped onto the arm of his seat, knees in the aisle, deflating as he listened, shoulders slumping, “Not again.”

  “What’s wrong – Did he have an asthma attack?” Lisa whispered franticly, mouthing each word.

  He shook his head no, briefly facing Lisa, who was already seated, and then looking down, “Good. That damned Johnson kid is going to get his butt handed to him from one of his many victims someday.” His shoulders straightened more. “Thanks. You’re a wonderful daughter.”

  The flight attendant now looked more Six Flags than Disneyland, awaiting their drink order, while Lisa awaited details about their son. Another couple, wanting to get by them to the second row, grumbled their displeasure. All of them glared at Bill.

  To the flight attendant, Lisa held out two fingers and mouthed, “Two champagnes, please.”

  “Do you want to quickly talk to your mom?” Bill asked, now staring at Lisa with an expectant smile. He abruptly looked up, just realizing he was obstructing the lane, “I am so sorry.”

  The other couple pushed passed him with murmured sarcasm, trying to get away from the family conference convened in the aisle.

  “Okay… please tell Danny we’re proud of him and we’ll call when we arrive in a few hours.” Covering the phone with his right hand, he explained to his wife, “Dar just arrived at her class and can’t talk. They’re waiting for her, so say a quick bye.”

  Lisa shook her head yes, and craned towards the phone that Bill held to her ear, “We love you, Dar. Thanks for taking care of everything. Kisses to you and Danny,” she said in a louder voice.

  “Okay, we’ll talk some more later, love you.” He pressed the end button on his phone’s screen.

  “Danny stood up for two friends who were being bullied by that delinquent Johnson, who didn’t like it and took a slug at him.”

  Lisa reacted, “Oh my. He’s alright, isn’t –“

  “Yes,” Bill cut her off. “It was just a little bruise on his cheek. One of the counselors saw the whole thing and stopped it immediately. Johnson is permanently banned from camp, although camp is over. Anyway, our little man is home now playing X-Box, while Darla is, of course, at her class. Well, you heard that part. His asthma is fine too. Oh, and Dar wanted to remind us that they’re driving to Mom and Dad’s tonight to take in some of the lake activities. Guess your penchant for the water rubbed off on our daughter.” He thought, how funny that Sally runs down to their beach house in Mexico all the time, they live off Lake Michigan with Danny begging to go to the beach, and Darla, when on breaks from college, visits his parents in Michigan at their lake house every chance she gets.

  “I told you we should have all come down together,” she said only half kidding.

  After getting settled into their seats and sipping on their champagnes, Bill watched his wife admiringly as she pulled a pair of slippers from her carryon, which she then swapped with her walking shoes. She was a beautiful fifty. Still a natural brunette, who kept her hair short for its utility, which now seemed to give off an extra measure of radiance, maybe reflecting the peace she felt starting their vacation. As always, her eyes drew his gaze, just as they did when they first met thirty years ago. A barometer to her personality, they were often mysterious, always thoughtful and discerning, and yet frequently playful. When her face exploded in a smile, her eyes would sparkle like a July fourth finale. Those same eyes now returned his gaze. First, she acted puzzled, then self-conscious, reflexively straightening her shirt, and then smiling, realizing her husband’s gaze was a compliment. There’s that sparkle, he thought.

  She resumed her routine, grabbing a Sudoku book and pen, and two little black bags. Sitting down, she handed one to Bill. “What’s this?” he asked.

  “A surprise for later. What are our movie choices?” Lisa asked.

  Studying their inflight magazine for a few moments, until he selected the right one, “One Second After, it’s about the American power grid going down due to a terrorist’s exploded nuclear device generating an EMP.”

  “How uplifting,” she said deadpan. Now her eyes and smile reflected her playful side.

  2.

  Steve Parkington

  4:30 P.M.

  Clear Lake, Michigan

  Steve Parkington was up to the twelfth level of Killer Zombie Apocalypse Part XII on the X-Box, when an unfamiliar tone from his computer prompted him to stop. Just before a Nazi zombie was to take a bite out of him, he hit the pause button on his controller and examined the smallest of the five computer screens to the right of his primary screen. His search algorithm had been scanning the net for specific keywords and it scored a hit. He clicked on the link on his screen. This took him to an unfamiliar Internet message board page. The page contained a simple text message of stark white letters against a solid black background and an image at the bottom. It said:

  Hello again. Our search for intelligent individuals now continues.

  The first clue is hidden within this image.

  Find it, and it will lead you on the road to finding us. We look forward to meeting the few that will make it all the way through.

  Good luck.

  3301

  Below the text was this image:

  “Ha. There you are Mr. Cicada,” he exclaimed excitedly.

  He heard about
Cicada 3301 from an Internet Relay Chat group where he often communicated with fellow hacker-friends. Most were twenty-something like him. By the time that he tried to follow the trail, it had grown cold. He wrote the algorithm to scour the Internet in hopes that it would appear again. His efforts paid off.

  Arguably, his interest in this was due to a gene passed down to him by his father, John, who founded two successful Internet-based companies, the second called Picshare made his family wealthy. Steve, like his father, was an IT person by vocation, founding his own digital security company prior to beginning high school. However, his skills for this test were spawned by his long-time passion for hacking and cryptography.

  “Okay, what is hidden in this image then?” he asked out loud, considering his next move in this chess-like game. He reasoned that it must use some form of digital steganography, the concealing of secret information within a digital file. He started picking apart the pixels using an open source program he loved using. He ran different combinations, adjusting the color of every first pixel, and then second, and so on. On the fiftieth pixel combination, the image changed and revealed writing. There was a reference to “Tiberius Claudius Caesar” and a line of seemingly meaningless letters. He deduced it must be a Caesar cipher, an encryption technique used for private correspondence by its namesake Julius. He also knew this as a shift cipher, one of the most widely known encryption techniques, consisting of substituting or “shifting” letters in a message with corresponding letters some number of positions down the alphabet. Since Tiberius Claudius was the fourth Caesar in Rome, Steve reasoned that for every letter in the meaningless jumble of letters, he would substitute a letter four letters forward in the alphabet. This gave him a web address, which he entered into his browser, excited to see what it would reveal.