by Simon Rosser
“Terraformed?” Amber repeated, with a quizzical look upon her face.
“Yup,” her father said, taking a gulp of Cognac. “A process by which another planet’s ecology, atmosphere and temperature is modified, to make it suitable for life. In this case, alien life. Scientists have talked about the possibility of terraforming the Planet Mars for a long time. Giving it an oxygen rich atmosphere, to make it suitable for human life.”
Amber closed her eyes, horrified at the thought of her dad’s hypothesis.
“Either way, Amber, it would appear the Earth is in serious trouble. Whether they take our water, or terraform the planet, Earth will be unrecognisable from its present form.”
“Cheers to that!” John said sarcastically, raising his tumbler of Cognac. “Depressing, isn’t it. I’ve had to put up with your father telling me this since we first set eyes upon that thing out there.”
“Oh Dad, I’m so scared,” Amber said, throwing her arms around him, and hugging him again.
She pulled away. “I’m so happy that John found you after you’d collapsed, and brought you back here,” she said.
“Just pure luck, poppet,” her dad said.
Before Amber had told her story about her journey from London, her father had told her how he’d ended up at the farm. He’d gone for an evening walk and collapsed on the grass verge, in the lane running alongside the farm, a combination of too much heat, and a drop in his blood pressure. John, who he’d known for ten years or more, had found him, whilst driving back to the farm, and had resuscitated him.
The only reason he’d taken him into the nuclear bunker was because the farmhouse had been overrun by wasps, from a damaged nest in the eaves, and John had considered it too dangerous to take him into the house. That, and the fact that it was nice and cool in the bunker. It was also filled with medical supplies, including a large stock of bottled water, made it the logical place to stay.
Her father had refused to go into hospital, fearing he may end up with some worse ailment, and had agreed to spend the night, with John watching over him in the bunker, to recover.
Amber’s mum had, of course, been told, and reluctantly accepted it was best for her husband to stay there, for the night in order to rest, as it was extremely hot in their cottage also.
“If only your mum had come out for the walk with me,” he continued. “She could have spent the night with me, in John’s bunker, and survived too.”
Amber wiped away a tear. “She’d have probably insisted you go back home with her Dad, or to the hospital. Don’t blame yourself for what happened to Mum. No one could have foreseen what was about to happen and, if you’d gone home, you’d both be dead now.”
“That’s true,” her dad smiled. “On the Sunday morning John drove me home and we found your mum’s ashes in the bed. Terrible thing,” he said, shaking his head. “After that, I returned here with John. We’ve been trying to figure out what’s been going on ever since.”
Amber wiped a tear from her cheek. “I got nervous after hearing that NASA had tracked two objects entering Earth’s atmosphere last weekend. People were talking about it. It freaked me out a little,” she said.
“Yep. I must admit I didn’t pay too much attention, at the time. I thought it was a load of poppycock,” her father said. “I should have taken the stories a little more seriously.”
John slammed his brandy glass down on the table. “Jeez, look at the time. The broadcast is due in twenty minutes,” he said.
Amber looked at John, and then her father, feeling somewhat confused. “Broadcast?” she said.
Amber's dad looked over at John. “Haven't you told her yet?”
“Oh! Sorry, I haven't had a chance.” John turned to Amber. “We've been monitoring a transmission from the United States. Nevada to be precise...”
“What?!” Amber said, stunned at the revelation.
“Yes, two days ago, on one of the emergency channels. I've not been able to respond to the message yet, but I’m continuing to try. The message appears to be coming from the Nellis Airforce Base, situated there. Have you ever heard of Area 51?” John asked, tentatively.
Amber nodded slowly, still surprised by the development. “Yes, I've read about it. It's where the US Government supposedly hides its secret technology, including some recovered, crashed, flying saucers, allegedly.”
“Well, I’m not sure about that, but yes, that's the place. Come with me, the message is being broadcast every six hours. There's one due now, at midday,” he said.
Amber curiously followed John out into the corridor, past the kitchen and into a large study, where computer monitors, hard drives, and an assortment of radio equipment, both old and new, had been set up.
“This is my little operations room,” John said. “I'm a bit of a nerd when it comes to computers and I’m also an amateur ham radio operator. It's the main reason why my Mrs divorced me,” he said, smirking.
He led Amber over to a modern-looking item of equipment, with green and red LED lights blinking on and off in sequence, and picked up a set of headphones. He then carefully turned a large dial on the tuner in front of him.
After a while he nodded slowly, and removed the headphones. “Got it,” he said, reaching out and pushing a yellow illuminated button next to the dial.
Amber immediately heard a man, with a slight American accent, speaking succinctly and clearly.
“To anyone still out there and whoever might be listening. This is a pre-recorded message from US Black Ops Division, Scientific Advisor, Herbert Montgomery, speaking from Nellis Airforce Base, Groom Lake, Nevada, USA. Earth appears to have been invaded by an alien species, clearly intent on taking over our planet for its own purposes. We do not know how much of humanity has survived the cataclysm that has been wreaked upon us, but we assess a few pockets of us remain. We have a dedicated and highly specialised unit, of less than one hundred scientific and military personnel, based at a secret, highly secure, underground location. In a few moments, those listening will be able to attempt contact, using AM frequency, 282.80000.
We are using all our resources to assess the threat we face. We have limited, but effective, means to attempt intervention but, and we have no doubt, our prospects are grim.
So we say to anyone who gets this message; contact us, and we will tell you how to get to us. Humanity must regroup, and fight back against the alien menace, that has swiftly and comprehensively destroyed everything we know.
I finish this broadcast with a quote from the Bible;
Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord, your God, goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.
To anyone listening, please attempt to make contact now.”
Amber sat in stunned silence, wiping a tear from her cheek, as the voice of Herbert Montgomery broke off. Now, more than ever, she realised the hopelessness of the situation they were all in. How can we possibly fight back?
John had quickly picked up the headphones and had tuned the station to the frequency advised. He began speaking into a microphone, confirming that the three of them had survived, giving brief details of how they had managed it, and their approximate location, in Wales, UK. He ended the message by giving details of the equipment he was using, and the best band and frequency for them to use, to make contact.
John finished speaking, removed his headphones and turned to Amber.
“That’s it, love. I have left the same message three times but, so far, no contact. However I’m confident this Montgomery chap will be in touch. We just have to be patient.”
Amber was standing in the lounge, next to her father, looking out over the fields towards the Atlantic Ocean in the west, and the setting sun. John was walking across the fields towards them, from the direction of the small hut. He’d just been to collect more bottled water, from the large stock he thankfully had, and to feed Pegasus, making sure the stallion was comfortable, before locking the horse inside the undergroun
d bunker for the night.
“You know, Amber; human beings are a remarkable species. We have been around for two-hundred thousand years, and have survived everything that Mother Nature has so far thrown at us. So, I am sure we can overcome this, too,” he said, squeezing her shoulder.
Amber looked at her father, reassured, but not convinced by his comment. She smiled. “At least I’m here with you Dad. I love you.” she said, wrapping her arms around him.
“I love you too, poppet. Everything will be ok, I promise.”
Amber listened to her dad’s comforting words, and felt his reassuring arms around her; as the sun dropped out of sight, ushering in a new and uncertain night for the three of them.
The End
Amber Lee will return in Vaporized 2. Landing, December 2015.
Author Bio
Simon Rosser LIb, was born in Cardiff, South Wales, UK, in 1968. He is a personal injury lawyer and author of Action-Adventure-thriller novels with an Ecological/Apocalyptic theme.
Favorite authors: Ed McBain, James Patterson, Lee Child, Lincoln Child, Douglas Preston, Patrick Lee, Clive Cussler.
Favorite movies: Good The Bad and The Ugly, Jaws, Deliverance, Star Wars, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, It's A Wonderful Life, Scarface, Play Misty For Me, Electra-Glide In Blue, The Abyss, Deliverance and many others.
Books - THE A-Z OF GLOBAL WARMING, Climate Fiction eco-thriller; TIPPING POINT (Robert Spire adventure 1), Techno-thriller; IMPACT POINT (Robert Spire adventure 2) and third Spire Action-adventure thriller; MELT ZONE.
Future Books; Fourth Robert Spire Action-adventure thriller, CATACLYSM of the ANCIENTS, will be released late December 2014.
My first writing experience, if you could call it that, came from my love of horror movies. Saturday night would be horror movie double bill night. I'm talking about all the Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee and Vincent Price films, vampires, monsters, mummies and werewolves. I kept scrapbooks of all the films I saw between 1977 and 1981, and still have them to this day. I'd spend hours drawing a little picture of the film and appraising it - the writing part!
Roll on 25 years; I decided to write the factual A-Z of Global Warming to clarify the complex subject of climate change. My thrillers are a mix of ecological and techno-thriller with a bit of science fiction thrown in for good measure.
If you enjoyed reading any of my books, and have the time, please stop by and leave an Amazon review. If you scroll to the last page on your Kindle now, you will be taken to a ‘review’ page, which you can also share with your friends on Twitter and Facebook if you wanted to – how cool is that? All reviews are much appreciated, thanks.
Or;
Review Vaporized on US Amazon here, or UK Amazon here –
Thank you.
Author’s Note:
Vaporized is my fourth novel and I hope you enjoyed the adventure. The book took me 8 months to research and write, and I’d appreciate it if you could leave a review on Amazon to let other potential readers know about the book. Reviews from readers are so important and not only help a new, unknown author like me, improve on the book they have written, but also improve their next book/s. I’d like to thank my editor; Cheryl McLeod, for her professional editing of the manuscript, together with my Father John Rosser, who also spent a great deal of time picking out and spotting the inevitable error and typo that always seems to escape me.
Reviews help other readers decide whether to buy a book and also to find the books they want to read. So, I would be eternally grateful, once you have finished this book, if you would leave a review on Amazon, to let other potential readers know about my book. You can do this by clicking the links above or at the very end of the book.
Why not try a Robert Spire Action-Adventure Thriller. The series can be found here –
TIPPING POINT
IMPACT POINT
MELT ZONE
And just released, fourth Spire adventure;
CATACLYSM of the ANCIENTS
FREE PRIZE ENTRY – After leaving your review, please e-mail me at [email protected], with your name, and I will enter you in my free Kindle Fire HD/Paperwhite/$160 Amazon gift voucher giveaway, due to take place on August 1st 2014 and every 4 months thereafter! Just mention VAPORIZED in the title of your e-mail. You will also get the first 3 chapters of Spire’s next adventure, Cataclysm of the Ancients, due out late 2014. Please also visit my website www.sirosser-kindle-ebook-thrillers.com for further information. Many thanks, for your time, Simon Rosser.
ROBER SPIRE ADVENTURE
TIPPING POINT - SAMPLE
PROLOGUE
April 5
“ONLY ANOTHER FOUR of these trips and we're done,” Davenport shouted to his friend, as he looked back at the jagged cliffs rising out of the ocean on the bleak leeward side of the Ile de l’Est.
“Thank God! Don't ever ask me to sign up for anything like this again. After the year we’ve spent down here, I’m sure we'll both be exempt from having to do any further voluntary research for a while,” Hawthorn replied.
Dawn was just breaking over the windswept isles, as the old wooden fishing boat chugged out of the make-shift port on Ile de l’Est, one of six islets that make up the French Crozet Islands, in the Southern Indian Ocean. The sub-Antarctic archipelago - part of the French Southern Territories since 1955 - was uninhabited, except for a small research base on the main island, Ile de la Possession.
“You know, Adam, I could think of better things to be doing during my gap year. Monitoring penguins and sea creatures doesn’t feature high on the list,” Hawthorn said, turning the boat towards the sampling zone.
“Don't forget it's your turn to update the catalogue; with whatever marine samples we find,” Davenport shouted, throwing the well-used notebook, across the deck, to his friend.
Adam Davenport and James Hawthorn had been based on the main island, Ile de la Possession, along with five other research scientists for the last eight months, and were now embarking on the final four months of their placement, as part of an international monitoring team, studying the many different species of penguins, seals, birds, flora and fauna unique to the archipelago. The islands were, in fact, one large nature reserve, since being declared a national park back in 1938. The two researchers felt long forgotten by the outside world. The monthly food drop, by small plane, from the French Kerguelen Islands - some 1300 kilometres to the east - was their only real comfort.
The boat’s bow rose up on the crest of a wave as they motored out of the protected inlet toward Ile de la Possession, and the buoy that marked the research area, some two kilometres out from the eastern shore.
“It sure is calm out today,” Davenport said, looking out over the horizon. A group of five petrels circled above the boat as they arrived at the marker buoy.
Hawthorn cut the engine, letting the boat drift toward the orange buoy. “Pass the rope, so I can tie her up,” he yelled.
Davenport threw him the frayed end of the rope, which he secured to the chain on the buoy. The boat bobbed up and down on the light swell as Davenport went to retrieve his packet of Marlboro's from the wheelhouse. “How many pots are we supposed to be pulling up today, James?” he shouted over to his friend.
“Looks like we dropped eight overboard last week,” Hawthorn replied, flicking through the scruffy, worn notepad which dated back to the 1960s. “It's going to look like seafood pick and mix by the time we haul them all up.”
Davenport leaned over the side of the boat, taking in a deep breath of sea air. He pulled a Marlboro from the packet, licked the end of it, and placed it between his lips. “There’s a very strange smell on the port side,” he shouted to Hawthorn, who was getting the sampling kits ready to drop overboard.
He flipped the top of his Zippo lighter open and struck the flint. Before Hawthorn could answer him, a flash of light and heat exploded around them, completely engulfing the wooden fishing boat.
Hawthorn felt the force of the explosion as he was thrown into the shattered wh
eelhouse, followed by an instant of agonizing pain, then darkness.
Davenport opened his eyes. He was in the water, surrounded by flotsam, and covered in burning oil. He tried to swim through it, but the task was futile. He screamed and dived under the water. The last thing he felt was a searing pain in his lungs as he sank into the freezing depths.
CHAPTER 1
London, April 15
DR. DALE STANTON sat at his desk, in the darkening room of his Russell Square apartment, staring blankly at the glowing computer screen, his eyes tired and sore. His face was impassive, except for the visible, nervous, twitch in the corner of his mouth, which revealed his gathering thoughts.
He was putting the finishing touches to the presentation that he would be giving to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change conference in Oslo, Norway, in a little under a week's time. Stanton had been working on his current project for almost eight months and the conclusions he'd reached, he had little doubt, would concern the scientific world. Reaching over, he turned on the desktop lamp and rubbed his eyes, before leaning back in his chair to stretch his aching neck.
Looking back at the monitor, he started reading over the salient parts of his presentation, to check it one final time before finishing for the evening. He resumed typing; making what he hoped was the final amendment to his paper.
We know the Ocean Thermohaline Circulation is an important Atlantic current powered by both heat ( thermo) and salt content ( haline ) which brings warm water up from the tropics to northern latitudes. Without it, the Eastern Seaboard of the USA and climate of Northern Europe would be much colder. I have been re-analysing all the data amassed by the RAPID-WATCH program and my calculations reveal that the measuring devices have been incorrectly calibrated. Twenty-five of the thirty devices used to measure ocean flow were set by the manufacturers to measure fresh water. When calibrating the data to factor in measurements for denser salt water, the figures revealed...