Gaia Dreams (Gaiaverse Book 1)

by Pamela Davis

  "What?" she practically yelled into the phone.

  Zack heard and wandered closer to learn what was up.

  Maria continued in a slightly less loud tone, "I'm standing in front of a pyramid of ice! It's like I'm in Egypt or something except it's here in the U.S. and it's bigger than those pyramids over there and it's a whole freaking city! Why do they want me to leave here? What earthly reason could they possibly have for me to leave here?" she rapid-fired the questions into the phone.

  She heard Phoebe say in a trembling voice, "Um, there are tornadoes, big, bad, you gotta see-them-to-believe-them tornadoes. A lot of people are gonna be dead, Maria. A lot."

  Maria held the phone away from her ear and just stared at it for a minute, and then said into it, "Well, just what do they think we have in L.A. and now Las Vegas, a few dead? That this is just a minor skirmish here?"

  Phoebe replied, "You know how rare an F5 tornado is, Maria? Well, right now on the radar they are looking at ten of them! With more to come it looks like. So they're sending transport for you in half an hour." And with that she hung up. Phoebe was rattled, Maria thought, distracted. Must be the thought of tornadoes, all that mess. Phoebe couldn't abide mess.

  Suddenly Maria realized she was just standing there with the phone dangling from her hand. Zack was looking puzzled, waiting for her to do or say something.

  "Looks like we're off to see the F5 tornadoes, Zack, old buddy," Maria said blithely, and then turned and stomped off to gather her belongings.

  Louisville, Kentucky

  Sherry scrubbed down the counters of the diner with Lysol before making her avocado and tomato sandwich. She first tasted the combination of avocados and tomatoes during a visit to Janine, Sherry's best friend. Sherry's mom would call Janine a harlot if she ever saw her in that pink sequined halter top with the black spandex pants. That would never happen, though, since Sherry's mom was dead. A freak boating accident had placed her in a liquid cemetery.

  As Sherry got out the mayonnaise and pumpernickel bread, she stopped to tie up her waist-length, dirty blond hair in a garbage bag twist tie. She had thick, straight hair the consistency of a horse's tail.

  She began to slice the tomato into slices one-eighth inch thick with the large butcher knife. Next came the avocado, peeled, pitted, and scraped until a mound of perfect olive green with tinges of pale mustard yellow avocado lay on a sparkling white plate.

  Slathering Hellman's mayonnaise on the pumpernickel, Sherry felt it start to happen. The first bit of moisture in her mouth, the aching anticipation of that first bite of soft, squishy avocado between her sharp, square teeth. She wanted to just slap it all together fast and cram the delectable mixture into her mouth in one huge, gross bite, smearing avocado and mayo down her neck, letting tomato juice dribble over the curves of the tops of her breasts. But, no, that would spoil it. The moment must be perpetuated to be savored properly.

  Gently she laid the slices of tomato onto the mayo-covered, dark brown bread, overlapping the edges. One dash of salt was sprinkled on each ripe, red, meaty slice. Next came the entree--the avocado, sliced carefully due to its ripeness. A moment's delay as Sherry debated whether to lick off that small piece of green that had mashed out onto her finger. No...wait for it--that's what Janine had taught her--wait for it. She continued construction of her masterpiece with the avocado-smeared pinkie finger crooked out as if she were at tea in the Waldorf. Careful consideration was taken to place the avocado so that no spaces or gaps were left between each piece. It really was an art form, she thought.

  Raising the butcher knife, she then lowered it with precision to the skin of a bright, yellow lemon, measuring the distance until the blade was centered. Firm, quick thrusts of the blade revealed a pulpy, juice-laden center of tartness needing to be squeezed. Using the tip of the knife, Sherry pried each seed out of the lemon, flicking them into the large, black Rubbermaid garbage can at the end of the counter. Gently, but firmly, she squeezed lemon juice over the avocado. A fine spray misted the slices.

  Finally, another layer of tomatoes placed on top with a dash of salt on each and voila! The top piece of bread could be laid down over all, making sure that corners matched up exactly, but, yes, it was done, it was time, she was so ready for that first--no, wait for it. That's right. There was one more duty to be performed. Reaching into the appliance drawer, she grabbed the electric knife, plugged it in, and ever so slowly cut the crusts off the bread. Only an electric knife could accomplish such intricate surgery. Then a steady hand was required to guide the blade diagonally through the center, leaving two geometrically precise triangles of ecstasy waiting on the cutting board for Sherry.

  She lifted up one half to her partially opened, waiting mouth and lips and tongue, slight shallow breaths coming more swiftly now. As her teeth sunk into the bliss that was her late lunch, Sherry heard a roaring sound.

  "Today, at 2:35 p.m., a tornado ripped off the roof of this diner in Louisville, Kentucky as it plowed through six city blocks. The buildings on these blocks are crumbling shells, and all reports indicate that the employees were sucked up into the giant vortex and spit out about ten miles down the road. The tornado was one of ten rated F5 that struck Louisville today in a freak weather occurrence as they all appeared at roughly the same time. In every area struck by a tornado, there are no survivors. Unofficial estimates are that approximately 25,000 people died in the attack of killer tornadoes. More tornadoes hit all across the state of Kentucky, but there is no word at this hour on the number of casualties. This is Maria Santiago for SNN news, reporting live from Jake's Diner in Louisville."

  Fort Walton Beach, Florida

  Fine, white sand, warm from the day's sun, heated the soles of Lisanne's feet as she walked along the beach, heading for home. Small, quiet waves lapped the shore, aqua color shading into midnight blue in the twilight. Lisanne had not walked this stretch of beach in months, usually too consumed with the quest for alcoholic oblivion by this time of day. Since the mysterious message on her computer yesterday, she had been afraid to take a drink. Time to stop running away, she thought, time to face my life, such as it is. Reaching her apartment door, she opened it, calling out to Merlin, "I have an announcement to make."

  Merlin walked into the living room, watching her warily.

  "Okay, here's the deal--I'm not going to run away anymore. I'm going to face my life head-on. I just wanted to tell you that, to keep me honest. It will help to know someone else knows I'm trying. So--no matter what crazy idea led me to leave that message on my computer, I'm not leaving, I'm not running away. It's time for me to grow up. Well, are you proud of me or what?"

  Merlin yowled at her, arching his back, fur standing on end. Lisanne gazed at him in surprise and said, "What the hell??"

  The cat was livid. Of all the stupid, asinine decisions to make. Fool! Now, at the worst possible time, she decides not to run away. Idiot, he wanted to say, running away is the only thing that will save you now. He ran into her bedroom, saw she wasn't following him and ran back to her and meowed, and then ran back to the bedroom. Lisanne followed, muttering, "What is wrong with you, you crazy cat?"

  When she reached the doorway, however, she abruptly stopped talking and stared. A mound of her clothes and shoes had been heaped in the middle of the bedroom floor. Approaching the pile of clothing gingerly, she reached out to touch a purple rayon blouse and whispered, "Oh my God, what have I done?"

  Merlin meowed loudly at her, circling the distraught young woman.

  "I know, I know, I didn't have a drink today! When did I do this? Am I losing my mind? I must be, I must be going nuts...what the hell am I going to do?" Lisanne wailed. Gulping a deep breath of air, she continued, "Okay, don't panic, there's got to be a logical reason I would dump all my clothes in the middle of the floor. No, there's only one explanation, I'm crazy, I've lost it. Calm down, can't afford to be hysterical now. Oh, Merlin, what am I doing?" Lisanne became aware that Merlin was meowing like crazy and pawing at her arm. She wa
tched as the black cat leaped into the clothing and picked up a blouse in his mouth, teeth gently grasping the soft material. He dragged it across the room.

  "Hey, watch it, you stupid cat--you're going to put holes in it if you..." her voice trailed off as Lisanne watched Merlin place another piece of clothing on top of the pile. "What are you doing?" she asked wonderingly.

  Merlin dashed into the living room and hopped up onto the computer desk. Howling at Lisanne to follow him, Merlin slowly typed out a message on the keyboard. Lisanne stopped abruptly in the middle of the room as she saw what he was doing. Fear gripped her stomach and she was afraid to move.

  "What in the name of all that is holy is that cat doing? And why am I afraid?" she said softly.

  Merlin finished and sat next to the monitor, meowing for Lisanne to come near. Lisanne continued quietly to herself, "Okay, now I know I'm not hallucinating...no alcohol today or yesterday...so the cat is probably just imitating what he has seen me do, although that does seem like kind of strange behavior for a cat...."

  She tiptoed silently over to the desk, afraid to make much noise. Afraid of what, she didn't know. There, in large blazing letters on the screen was Merlin's message:

  YOU IDIOT

  WE HAVE TO LEAVE HERE

  NOW

  DANGER NEAR

  BIG STORM COMING WILL KILL YOU.

  "Idiot? Who do you think you are, calling me an idiot," Lisanne began, and then clamped her lips firmly shut. She looked at the screen and the cat, back and forth several times, her mind totally engaged in deciphering this puzzle, putting together the pieces and finding it unbelievable, but faced with the evidence.

  "What the hell?" she sputtered, "Merlin--Merlin, it was you who typed in that other message. It wasn't me so I'm not crazy after all--well, okay maybe I am but still it was you, not me! But how? How can you do this? It's impossible, but it isn't 'cause here it is and I saw you do it. So you were pulling out my clothes so I would pack to leave...but why? What is the big deal? We aren't in any danger here. Remember that big storm the other day? We were fine here, in fact, it was kind of cool watching the lightning out over the water--"

  She stopped as Merlin jumped in front of the keyboard and laboriously typed in his response:

  THIS NOT LIKE THAT

  HURRICANE A SURPRISE

  NO WARNING

  WILL BE TOO LATE TO LEAVE

  HAVE TO GO NOW

  "But, Merlin...this is crazy," she began.

  Merlin angrily typed again:

  NOT CRAZY

  YOU NEED TO BELIEVE ME

  NOT CRAZY IS REAL

  Lisanne collapsed into the chair in front of the computer and put her head in her hands. "This is really too much," she said loudly. "I'm fucked up enough already, and now my cat has decided to become extraordinary and start communicating with me. In English. On my computer. And the first thing he communicates....it couldn't be a message like 'Hi. This is your cat Merlin talking to you'...no, he has to start out with dire warnings of impending doom. In some ways, it doesn't surprise me. I have that kind of life--doom filled. Why shouldn't he start out with that--I mean, really, this is just too fucking much!" She ended with a yell.

  Merlin growled at her and sat waiting.

  "Okay, okay," she said and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Leaning back in the chair she searched Merlin's eyes, looking for signs of the intelligence he had exhibited. And as their eyes met, Lisanne knew, knew in her gut that this was really happening. That Merlin was talking to her. She knew, with a trembling feeling of growing excitement, that the world was a much more complex, surprising, and wonderful place than she had ever imagined.

  Allenville, Texas

  When the river broke through the dam, a wall of churning water cut through the town of Allenville. There was no warning siren, no news flash on the radio or television--just the sudden roar of water. The town was inundated from 5:38-5:41 p.m. In those precious three minutes, families sitting down to suppers of meatloaf and mashed potatoes or fried chicken and biscuits heard the loud roar and felt the ground tremble. In those three minutes, picture windows shattered by the force of the water, shards of glass sweeping into the waiting bodies.

  The oldest woman in the Johnson family was Ella Mae. She had just started to tell her grandson Joey about the time she decided to raise arugula to sell at the farmers market when she was slammed into the next room as the dining room wall was pounded in by the water.

  Henrietta Taggart was building a fort made of blocks with her three year old daughter Jenny. "Now what shall we name our fort?" Henrietta asked as she heard the roar. Looking up from the toys, Henrietta and Jenny had a moment of life and sight left. People, parts of people, dogs, cats, pieces of houses were all bearing down on them with the ferocity of a freight train made of water. There was not time to scream.

  Mary London was supposed to be on a boat to Bermuda. Her condo was being remodeled. Torrance, Mary's boyfriend, had offered the trip to Bermuda in an attempt to convince her to accept his marriage proposal. Mary, however, needed more time, so she was staying at the Longview Motel in downtown Allenville. She was on the phone with Torrance when the line went dead and the roar began. "What the...?" Mary started, only to be lifted off her feet by the torrent of rushing water. The air was sucked out of her lungs as the watery hands squeezed her body in half, slamming her over the dresser, driving splinters of wood into what skin remained. She was a rag doll, limp and torn.

  "Last night, the little town of Allenville, population 6,073, was obliterated from the face of the earth in a ravaging flood. Allenville was located below the Corey River Dam, which burst last night at approximately 5:30 p.m. Authorities are baffled by the break in the dam, saying it passed recent inspections with flying colors, and are calling it a sunny-day dam failure. The water level of Corey River was nowhere near flood stage and officials have no answer as to why this disaster occurred. The destruction of Allenville is the latest in a string of disasters that defy explanation. This is Maria Santiago, reporting for SNN live from the remains of Allenville."

  Yanking the earpiece from her ear, Maria threw the microphone at Zack. "Let's get the hell out of here," she said forcefully. "I can't stay another minute knowing six thousand people are buried under all that water." Pacing back and forth in front of the newly formed lake, Maria started to shake. "Zack," she said, in a trembling voice, "I don't know if I can do this anymore."

  "What? What do you mean?" Zack replied.

  "I mean it--I can't see another body, another town destroyed. How many have there been now, Zack? How many dead? How many towns just wiped off the map? It's not right! You know it's not right." Maria's voice cracked as the words tumbled out of her mouth in a flood. "Everybody is afraid to say it, but it isn't normal, it can't be a coincidence. There's just no way so many disasters could hit in so short a span of time. Tornadoes, desert hail storms, earthquakes, now dams bursting when they shouldn't. And people--all the people, Zack, dead every time! The crushed dead, the floating dead, the exploded dead, the burned or frozen dead, bits and pieces of dead everywhere. And I'm supposed to look pretty and tell the world all about it in a reassuring voice. It's too much, it's just too much. I can't do this anymore." Maria's speech ended in a whisper as the tears flowed down her face.

  He pulled her to him and held her close while she cried. About time, he thought. It's been crazy these last few weeks. And she's right--why is it happening? Can't be normal.

  "Is it God doing this, Zack?" Maria whispered.

  "Oh, Maria, I don't think so, I really don't," Zack replied.

  He cringed inside at the thought of what some religious groups were starting to say about the disasters, knowing that his parents were certainly saying the same things. Zack had fought against his parents' beliefs of a vengeful God who dealt in retribution and wrath his whole life. Born Zachariah Tyler, he had legally changed his name to Zack in adulthood to get out from under the religious overtones that had colored his childhood. A Bi
blical name was only one aspect of his parents' influence. They had started out as born-again Christians, floated into a Pentecostal group that spoke in tongues and fell to the ground when filled with the Holy Spirit, and eventually started their own small church to preach their twisted version of zealous Christianity. The Tyler Church of the Natural Way in God studied only scriptures that described examples of God cleansing the flock after they had gone astray. Their God was a vengeful one, whose love didn't enter into the picture. Zack felt pretty sure there was some kind of higher power in the universe, but his parents' fanaticism had left him with no desire to participate in any kind of organized religion. The closest he'd been to a church in the past ten years was when he and Maria hid inside one in Bosnia trying to escape sniper fire.

  "Maria," he said slowly, "I'm not even sure I believe in God, but whatever power there is out there that created this earth is not causing the disasters. I feel that in my gut. But I think you're right. Something is causing this--it isn't happening for no reason at all. Lately, well, I don't know how to talk about this, but lately, I've been waking up in the night feeling like I almost know what is going on--I know, it sounds crazy. Why would Zack Tyler know what it is when nobody else does? But it seems so real. Oh, hell, I know this sounds nuts."

  Maria had lifted her head from his chest and her brown eyes, darkly soft as silk velvet, peered up at him with puzzlement, but he saw that she was calmer and listening intently.

  "Go on," she said quietly, "Tell me what you mean."

  Zack took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  "Since the earthquake, whenever we've gone to another one of these disasters, I'm almost not surprised when we get there and see the destruction. I'm shocked and horrified the same way I am at anything that kills so many people, but there is a feeling--like déjà vu, yeah, that's it--like I've been there before. Not that I knew it would happen, but that it seems so familiar when I see it. The first time was in Las Vegas. Way below the feelings of shock and awe, I felt like I knew already, that I was expecting it to be there--that, of course, Las Vegas would be covered in ice. But that would be the last thing anyone would have expected. And since the tornadoes I've been waking up at night from dreams, but I can't ever quite remember them. They seem to be important dreams, and I end up with the frustrating sense that I could figure everything out if I could just remember! It's maddening. The only concept I hold onto when I wake up is that the dreams are connected to the disasters. Today, when we arrived here at Allenville was the strongest impression I've had that I knew about a disaster before we got word of it."