METEOR STORM

by David Capps

  That afternoon white clouds started moving rapidly across the sky. Within an hour the clouds turned a dark gray. The Sherpas stopped and led us into a shallow canyon in the side of the mountain to our right. They pitched our tents but didn’t start a fire.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  Trent spoke with the Sherpas and came over to me and Ed.

  “There is a storm moving in,” he said. “We have to hunker down here until it passes.”

  “How long will that be?” Ed asked.

  “Hard to tell,” Trent replied. “Tomorrow, maybe the day after.”

  He handed each of us a cloth wrapped around some bread and jerky.

  “This is going to be it until the storm is over,” he said. “Make it last.” The wind started picking up. “Into the tents, gents,” Trent yelled.

  Just then the wind hit us full force. I found it difficult to stand up. We crawled into our tents and wrapped up in everything we had. The rain started pelting our tents and the temperature dropped precipitously. The rain froze and turned to snow. It was still around two in the afternoon, but it was as dark as night. The wind howled constantly and the tent shook harder than I did. I was cold and shivering. Eventually I was so exhausted that I fell asleep.

  When I woke up the wind was still howling. My feet felt numb. I quickly took my boots off and rubbed my feet, trying to warm them. I held them in my hands and wrapped my blanket around them. Gradually the feeling came back into my feet. I put my boots back on and wrapped them in the blanket again. I ate some of the bread and jerky and washed it down with some water from my canteen. I sat there for what seemed like hours, trying to stay warm. I fell asleep again.

  I woke up suddenly. I could still hear the wind blowing, but the tent wasn’t shaking any more. I thought the storm was finally breaking, so I tried to open the front of the tent to see what was going on. That’s when I discovered the tent was buried in the snow. It didn’t seem so cold now. The snow was insulating the tent from the bitter cold wind. I ate some more of the bread and jerky and drank a little more water. The sides of the tent were pressing in somewhat, reducing the interior space. I sat there listening to the wind for the next several hours and again fell asleep.

  I woke up groggy and disoriented with a headache. I figured it must be a lack of oxygen. I pushed on the side of the tent. The snow fell back and the top of the tent started to shake again. I ate the rest of the bread and jerky and finished the water in my canteen. My head was still pounding as I fell back asleep.

  I dreamed of Tia and the robot’s head again. In each dream I could see Tia smiling at me. I reached out to her and touched her cheek. Then a shadow appeared behind her. She seemed alarmed, looking around. In each dream she grabbed the robot’s head and ran to the left. This time the shadow became clearer. It was large and masculine, wearing a military type hat. I got a glimpse of two gold stars on the shoulder of the shadow. Now I became alarmed, as well. I knew who the shadow was and the danger it represented to all of us and to the robot’s head. I had to do something to protect us. I just wasn’t sure what I could do. The dream was so disturbing that it woke me up.

  I heard voices but I couldn’t understand what they were saying. The tent shook and the voices got louder. I sat up and looked around. There was light coming in through the canvas of the tent. A smiling Sherpa opened the front flap of the tent and motioned me out. As I crawled out into the sunshine the rest of the Sherpas cheered. Ed was already out and standing in the snow, and they were digging Trent out of his tent. As he appeared, another round of cheers came from the Sherpas.

  It took several more hours to dig all of the equipment out of the snow and get everything cleaned off. The Sherpas had built a fire about a hundred feet away where the wind had cleared the snow. We gradually warmed ourselves around the fire while the Sherpas cooked breakfast. It felt good to eat warm food again. In another hour, everything was packed and we headed up the valley.

  * * *

  Two days later we crossed into Tibet. An hour’s walk inside the border, we encountered a Chinese border patrol. Ten soldiers came rushing at us with rifles, bayonets fixed. The Sherpas quickly set their load down, dropped to their knees and looked at the ground.

  “Remain calm,” Trent called out. “This is normal.”

  A Chinese officer on horseback appeared from over the hill. Two of the soldiers kept their rifles pointed at us as the rest began patting us down and searching our clothing and back packs. They collected an old knife Ed was carrying, the currency Trent carried, and my iPhone, placing all of the items on the ground in front of the mounted officer. He swung his leg over the neck of the horse and dropped to the ground. He picked up Ed’s knife and examined it, then looked at Ed. He tossed the knife back down on the ground and looked at the small pile of currency. The soldiers had divided the currency into two piles, one for the Rupees from India and the other pile for the Yuan, the Chinese currency Trent had obtained from a bank before we reached Chitkul.

  The officer picked up my iPhone and examined it. He then slipped it into his coat pocket. Trent looked over at me. He must have noticed the panicked expression on my face. Trent raised his arms into the air and slowly approached the officer, speaking what I assumed was Mandarin. Trent presented the permit to the officer who took it and studied the document. Trent then pointed over at me and continued talking to the officer, who pulled the iPhone out of his coat pocket. The officer started to laugh and pointed to me. Trent laughed as well. Trent pointed down at the pile of Chinese currency on the ground and then at the iPhone. The officer smiled and handed the iPhone to Trent. Trent picked up the Chinese currency and handed some of it to the officer. Trent bowed and backed away. The Chinese officer looked each of us over carefully and then spoke to his soldiers who relaxed and quietly left. Trent walked over to me.

  “So what was that all about?” I asked.

  “He was going to give your iPhone to his girlfriend back in Beijing. He said you were stupid for bringing it out here, as there are no cell phone towers and no internet service.”

  “He knew what it was for?” I asked.

  “Oh yes. I told him this was an older model and his girlfriend would much prefer a newer model. I offered to give him the money to buy a new one for her.”

  “Thank you,” I replied.

  Trent handed the iPhone back to me. “GPS?” he asked.

  I looked around feeling embarrassed, and then looked back at Trent.

  “You keeping a log?” he asked directly.

  I grimaced at the betrayal this might represent to Trent.

  “Probably for the best,” Trent said quietly as he looked around. “The guardian is getting old. This may be his last trip to the cave. To my knowledge he has no one to replace him.”

  I felt relieved that Trent actually thought keeping a record of how to get to the cave might be a good idea. The Sherpas had picked everything up and were heading out. As we joined them Trent said softly, “Speak to no one of this, and don’t let them see it again.”

  * * *

  The following afternoon we reached the monastery. The walls were constructed from smooth gray stones surrounded by prayer wheels and brightly colored streamers undulating in the wind. As we approached the entrance, the massive wooden doors opened and we were greeted by several Buddhist monks in saffron robes. Trent bowed and spoke to them briefly. They bowed in return and welcomed us inside.

  An old, frail looking Buddhist priest wearing wire rimmed glasses emerged from the back of the monastery and approached us. He studied Trent for a moment and then smiled and embraced him. They spoke for a while. Trent pointed to me and Ed as the old priest looked us over. Trent introduced us, and identified the old priest as the guardian. He motioned for us to enter the building behind him. As we entered, the large room seemed dark, but our eyes quickly adjusted to the lower light level. Flickering lamps were placed strategically around the room. Along the outer walls stood wooden statues of Buddha in various poses, and at th
e far end was a massive carved wooden mandala.

  Trent explained that the lamps were fueled with butter which was produced locally. Oil was very expensive and had to be carried across long distances. We were shown to a moderate sized room where we placed all of our equipment and back packs. We rested for a while and were invited to join the guardian for dinner.

  The meal consisted of rice and lentils mixed with a spiced goat milk sauce. Tea was served after the meal. Trent then spoke to the guardian about our need to visit the cave. The guardian looked us over again and got up and left the room.

  “He is going to pray over our request,” Trent said.

  “So when will we know?” I asked.

  Trent shrugged his shoulders. “We can stay here until he decides.”

  “So all of this could be for nothing?” I asked.

  “Patience, my boy! Have a little faith,” Trent replied.

  After dinner the Sherpas, Trent and Ed went into the room where our packs were. I looked around. This was the only room. I paced around trying to think of what I could do. Trent came back out of the room. “Ed has agreed to stay awake and guard you during the night. I know it’s not ideal, but you will be safe.”

  “Look, I…”

  “No,” Trent said, “John’s orders. Ed is here to protect you with his life. Let him do his job, alright?”

  My mind was spinning. I felt panicked. I rapidly glanced around the monastery but there was nowhere to go. I felt the walls closing in around me.

  “We have to stay together,” Trent said. “There are wild animals outside; Snow Tigers and other beasts. I’ll stay up with you. We can talk.”

  I reluctantly agreed. We went into the room and Ed had a place selected for me in a corner. Ed placed his hand on his knife. “I can protect you here,” Ed said. “No one will get anywhere near you. I promise.”

  I settled down in the corner and leaned against my back pack. Trent and I talked well into the night before I gradually fell asleep.

  * * *

  I awoke early in the morning and quietly logged our GPS position on my iPhone, identifying it with the title Monastery, then stowed it in my back pack. The Sherpas were starting to stir and rise for the day. We all migrated into the main room and waited for the guardian to enter.

  He appeared and spoke briefly with Trent and then invited us to join him for breakfast.

  “He’s agreed to take us to the cave,” Trent whispered. “The Sherpas will have to stay at the base of the mountain while we go up to the cave. We leave right after breakfast.”

  “How far is it from here?” I asked.

  “About two and a half days walk, if I remember correctly,” he said. “It’s been twenty eight years since I’ve been.”

  After breakfast we headed out from the monastery. The air was cold and crisp with a fresh feeling you get only at higher elevations in the mountains.

  * * *

  That evening we made camp near a small pool at the base of a waterfall. After dinner Trent came over to me.

  “The guardian wishes to speak with you,” he said.

  I followed him over to the guardian who sat on a rock next to the pool of water. Trent bowed and spoke with the guardian who looked at me as he listened to Trent. I sat down on the ground. The guardian spoke and Trent translated.

  “He wants to know why you have come here to see the cave,” Trent said. “Speak honestly and openly with him. He is completely trustworthy.”

  “I have come into possession of a piece of the old knowledge hardware,” I replied. Trent looked surprised as he translated. “I have learned of a meteor storm that happened 63,000 years ago and is about to happen again, either this summer or next. If I am to properly warn people and help them survive, I need to know exactly when the meteor storm will happen.” Trent looked alarmed.

  “I should have known something like this was afoot when I heard from John,” Trent said.

  The guardian spoke again and Trent translated. “He said the fire from the sky that destroyed the old civilization, is that what is coming again?”

  “Yes,” I replied.

  The guardian spoke again with a worried look on his face.

  “He wants to know how you will use this information.”

  I lowered my head momentarily and then looked up at him. “I believe the people who govern our society either already know the meteor storm is coming, or they will shortly know. In any event, I do not believe they will act to protect the common people from the destruction that is coming. They will act to protect only themselves. I must warn the common people and show them how to survive the meteor storm.”

  “And if those who govern come against you?”

  “True knowledge is power,” I replied. “Force is the only way they know, but that is not an answer. I must use my knowledge to help others, not to destroy them.”

  “And if the people will not listen?”

  “I can only offer them the truth. If they will not listen there is little else I can do,” I replied.

  “We will speak again at the base of the mountain,” he said.

  I got up, bowed, and left.

  * * *

  The following night we arrived at the base of the mountain with the cave somewhere above us. Trent again summoned me after dinner to speak with the guardian.

  Trent translated. “He wants to know how long you will need to be in the cave.”

  “About two and a half hours. Why, does it matter?” I asked.

  “He says that if you are in there for more than ten minutes, the old spirits will awaken and you may be in danger.”

  “I may need the old spirits to awaken to learn the information they have,” I replied.

  “You understand you may not survive if they are angered by you?” he asked.

  I looked over at Trent. “The cave has its own guardian,” Trent said. “An invincible warrior.”

  “I don’t have a choice,” I replied. “I need the information.”

  The guardian studied me for a while.

  “I also have some requests regarding tomorrow,” I said, remembering the content of the dream and the identification of the shadow. “I must safeguard the location of the cave. There are satellites that can track every footstep we make. There will be a four hour window where there will be no satellite coverage. We need to reach the cave within that four hour timeframe. Once inside, we will have satellites overhead for the next two and a half hours, and then there will be another four hour window where we can come back down the mountain. If we can follow that schedule, we can keep the exact location of the cave secret from the NSA.”

  “You think they are watching us?” Trent asked.

  “They already know about John and the Survivalist Network. My guess is he’s on a watch list. Everything from the satellites is recorded. It’s only a matter of time before they track everyone associated with John.”

  Trent looked very concerned as he translated for the guardian.

  “He says he will pray about your request.”

  My sense was that Trent’s concern was not lost on the guardian.

  * * *

  Trent and I returned to the campfire. Ed was waiting for us.

  “So, you going to tell us more about life on Mars?” he asked.

  “Indeed,” Trent added in. “I’m really curious now.”

  “Okay,” I replied. “This conversation doesn’t go beyond the three of us, agreed?”

  Ed and Trent agreed enthusiastically.

  “I was working at JPL, the Jet Propulsion Lab in Pasadena, California. That’s where the Mars Rovers are controlled and where all of the digital information from the rovers is processed. The rovers have photographed evidence of a past civilization on Mars.”

  “I’ve seen the photographs,” Trent said, “but I didn’t notice anything that would suggest an ancient civilization. Besides, Mars’ atmosphere is less than one percent of Earth’s and is mostly carbon dioxide. There’s basically no oxygen and no plants to generate i
t.”

  I smiled. “So let me ask you a question. In the photographs, what color was the sky?”

  “Red,” Trent replied.

  “And why was the sky red?” I asked. This was a logic trap, and Trent was walking straight into it.

  “Red dust in the air,” Trent replied.

  “If the atmosphere on Mars is less than one percent of Earth’s, how can there be dust in air that doesn’t exist?” I asked. Both Trent and Ed stared at me, dumbfounded. “In order to get to less than one percent of the atmosphere on Earth you have to get up to around 100,000 feet above the ground. That’s also above the atmosphere.”

  Ed sat back with his mouth open. “I have a friend, a test pilot, who’s been up that high.”

  “And what did he see?” I asked.

  “He said the sky was black, not blue. Something about the air scattering the light and filtering out the red wave lengths making the sky appear blue from the ground.”

  “That’s correct,” I replied.

  “So the atmosphere on Mars is denser than we’ve been told?” Trent asked.

  “It’s more like Earth’s atmosphere at around 15,000 feet,” I replied. “The rovers have also photographed large dust devils moving across the Martian landscape.”

  “Yes,” Ed said. “I’ve seen a program on the science channel where they showed a series of dust devils up to a thousand feet high.”

  “Exactly,” I replied. “Swirling air has to have a certain density in order to suspend dust in the vortex. Below a certain density you can’t lift the dust off the ground.”

  Ed’s shoulders slumped as he said, “Huh.”

  “Why would they lie about the atmosphere on Mars?” Trent asked.

  “They don’t want people to know there is life on Mars. It generates too many questions regarding our own beliefs about life, religion, academic theories and political power structures. Once telescopes were invented, scientists have been observing seasonal changes on Mars. We’ve been seeing the same change of seasons at the JPL for several years now.”