* * * *
WHILE DEATH WASHED through the northern side of the San Francisco Bay, the worst of it was turning around the San Francisco peninsula, towards San Jose to the south, shattering famous San Francisco tourist spots like Pier 39 into kindling and dragging them under the Bay Bridge. The black, oily water then whipped around the western side of the city where famous San Francisco sites like China Town and the financial district were likewise smashed apart and ruined.
Running parallel with the Bay Bridge that connects San Francisco with Oakland, the now half exposed BART tunnel that had been laid along the floor of the bay was ripped in half by the raging tsunami wave, drowning thousands of helpless subway riders in the cars. The foamy black edge of the still powerful wave was festooned with oil-covered debris and bodies, as it rushed onward towards the San Francisco International Airport.
The sea level San Francisco airport was filled to capacity with airliners and Las Vegas-bound passengers hoping to leave before the airport closed in accordance with the newest FAA daytime wind shear departure rules.
When the first quake hit, tens of thousands had been working in the airport, waiting in departure lounges or had already been seated in their jumbo jets, anxiously waiting for their captain to announce that they would soon be taking off.
The initial jolt had been so violent that the main runways of the airport immediately fractured as buckling tarmacs sank and wrecked the undercarriages of several parked airliners. Several of the jets were already on the taxiways, loaded with fuel and passengers.
As the tarmacs and taxiways failed, several of the heavily laden jumbo jets crumpled to the ground like mortally wounded fowl. Upon impact, the hot exhaust from their engines sparked a horrendous series of explosions all across the breadth of the airport as desperate passengers spilled out of the fractured airframes like maddened ants on fire.
Those who survived the first jolts in the airport departure lounges watched the carnage with horrified faces, each grateful he or she had not met a similar fiery fate. However, they soon realized that their destinies had also been sealed as people began pointing at a large tsunami wave now pressing down upon them with merciless fury.
Some ran, but most froze with fear as they watched the wave reach the airport, now dotted with burning airliners and collapsed air terminal buildings. As it swept across the helpless facility, it brought a quick, merciful death to the many burned, crushed and dying passengers and carried away several of the grounded airliners towards the communities lining the southern end of the San Francisco Bay. They, too, would soon be swamped by a wall of oil soaked water, fire, and a God-awful mixture of debris, death and smashed airplanes.
* * * *
SHEATHED IN DARK tinted glass and shaped like old-style computer hard drives, the Oracle buildings at Redwood Shores had miraculously survived the superquake by wobbling back and forth on the rollers built in between the floors.
While the captain of the Exxon Ayala, along with the other members of his bridge crew, had already met their fate, his niece, a security officer for Oracle, had been in the basement of her building when the superquake had first hit. Suffering only some minor bruises and cuts, she had raced up the stairs through the dim glow of the emergency lights to search for survivors once the shaking had stopped.
She had run to the top floor of the building and had already worked her way down to the fifth floor by the time the tsunami wave hit the building. Fortunately for her, the wave had reduced in height by some fifty feet and taken out the northernmost buildings in the campus, which had absorbed the brunt of the impact.
As the building shook from the flooding and damage happening on the floors below her, she looked out a window in time to see the fuselage of a Boeing 747 slam through a similar Oracle building next door. To her amazement, the building withstood the impact, swaying back and forth.
The next danger would come as the wave washed back out to sea. She knew they'd handily survive that, so she returned to the task at hand; giving aid and comfort to the few office workers that had stayed behind to crate the remaining equipment and computers for shipping.
Unlike her uncle, the captain of the ill-fated Exxon Ayala, she would survive the day, but only to face a future that now resembled an open Pandora's Box, out of which would spew dark consequences of misery and death for years to come.
* * * *
AS THE WAVE moved further south, the rushing force destroyed all of the small cities running along both sides of the San Francisco Bay. However, in terms of lasting misery and death, the worst was yet to come.
As the wave bore down on San Jose and the heart of the Silicon Valley, it washed through the myriad number of computer manufacturing firms, sweeping up the millions of gallons of toxic chemicals and heavy metals used to manufacture printed circuits and computer chips.
With its forward momentum finally spent, the wave receded. On its way back to the sea, it dragged along with it thousands of dead bodies and a deadly witch's brew of petrochemicals, crude oil, solvents and heavy metals. Some of it eventually washed out to sea, but most of it washed up on the banks and low lying areas of the Silicon Valley.
Some of those who survived would come to envy the dead, whose deaths had been quick and violent. This was because their deaths would be slow and agonizing because of the witch's brew of toxic chemicals and rotting bodies. The foul stench of it all burned their eyes and choked their lungs while the man-made chemicals destroyed their immune systems and ate away at their skin and internal organs till they were susceptible to every imaginable disease and infection.
It is said that in everything bad, there can always be found little bit of good. Such came to be after the catastrophic event that Californians would simply call “The Wave,” for centuries to come.
After the carnage, a few survivors turned up who would later come to epitomize the hope of the world for an eventual light at the end of the tunnel. They were the engine room crew of the Exxon Ayala. Because of the security systems and strength built into the ship, most of the men in the engineering compartment of the doomed oil tanker survived the ordeal behind double-thick watertight doors and bulkheads.
The day after the ship was run aground upon the barren rocks of Alcatraz Island, the Chief Engineer, along with a handful of his able-bodied men, had finally managed to cut their way out of the uplifted stern of the twisted ship and literally walk away from the disaster unscathed.
Their emergence proved to be a much-needed beacon of hope. Four months later, enough of the Golden Gate Bridge wreckage had been removed to clear the ship channel, and ships of trade once again began to make San Francisco and Oakland a regular port of call.
The communities of the San Francisco Bay area also struggled to return to a shadow of their former greatness, and communication was restored in only a month, as opposed to the initial estimates of three months. However, it would still be decades before San Francisco could again call itself “the beautiful city by the bay."
It was during this hectic period of reconstruction following “The Wave” that one of the first foreign ships to dock in San Francisco would bring with it a young sailor from the Orient who chose to jump ship for a better life in America. Little did he know that he had also brought the dreaded Three Gorges flu to America. Dormant until its carrier began to exhibit to flu like symptoms, the Three Gorges Flu spread quickly. A single cough could infect an entire audience as they watched a film, or a train full of commuters on their way to work.
So deadly it was, 3G had already decimated the populations of Taiwan, Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos and now would become western civilization's deadliest plague ever as well. A threat that would be suffered, challenged and finally overcome but at a terrible price.
* * * *
THE EFFECTS OF the Nibiru flyby had been the most catastrophic event in the recorded history of mankind, and Northern California was not alone it its misfortune.
Similar disasters had dotted the globe during the three days leading
up to the perfect opposition of Nibiru, such as the massive Hollywood quake that single-handedly destroyed California's lucrative film industry. During those days, the worst things imaginable happened as a whole host of volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, floods and fires beset the planet and continued at a diminishing rate for another five days following opposition.
By the fifth day following opposition, the many volcanic eruptions and fires that dotted the Earth obscured the sky to the point that the entire planet spent three full days in perpetual darkness—a fearful period that would haunt the memory of mankind for generations to come.
Oddly though, while some had expected global disasters that would affect every habitat of man, the carnage was randomized. Like a tornado that can raze one home clean to the foundation and then pass by a neighboring home without so much as moving any of the roof shingles by so much as a millimeter, the devastation wrought by Nibiru struck randomly across the globe. While great cities like San Francisco, Paris and Rome were torn asunder, others like Geneva and Denver escaped the carnage intact.
Overall, the countries in the middle latitudes, such as America, fared the best, while countries in the most northern and southern latitudes were more dramatically affected. However, it was equatorial and third world nations in general where human life virtually seemed to disappear.
After the Nibiru flyby, the “haves” of the world, became those nations with a ready supply of fresh water and water exporters like Turkey. In a strange twist of fate, Turkey would eventually become the wealthiest Islamic nation in the world and well regarded by all other nations in the region as being generous and fair.
The technology center in Las Vegas, Nevada had also escaped the destruction. Consequently, it put itself to the task of building more efficient hydrogen fuel cells for small uses and large magnetic electronic generators sufficient to power small cities and the desperately needed desalination plants required around the globe to save lives and the rich farmlands needed to feed the world's hungry. Lucky for mankind, its technology had survived this particular flyby of Nibiru for the first time, and it would progress beyond a point where all other preceding civilizations had failed.
Nibiru had destroyed a fourth of mankind during its flyby, and six months later, it finally reached the outermost fringes of the solar system, where it would not return for another 3,600 years. However, the news was not as widely celebrated as one would think, as half of those who survived the flyby would die lingering deaths because of thirst and hunger along with plagues and diseases never seen before. Mankind would still have a lot more dying to do, before it could hope to the find time to properly celebrate Nibiru's departure.
* * *
Legacy of Nibiru
FLANKED BY A UNE security team dressed in conservative business suits, Secretary General Antonio De Bono stood at the front doors of the ornate covered entry way into the Blue House, dressed in a tasteful maroon evening jacket, with Yvette Cochereau on his arm. She was dressed in a full-length sheer white evening gown topped by a stunning diamond necklace. As former Louisiana Senator Merl Johnston stepped out of his limousine, he waved at De Bono and Cochereau and they walked forward to meet him. As he stepped closer, Yvette took Senator Johnston's breath away just as she had that first day on the Secretary General's private Gulfstream scramjet.
A month after opposition, his wife Ginny was heartbroken by the suffering of her family and returned to Baton Rouge, Louisiana with their children to help her family. For the remaining five months, he slept as often as he needed with expensive call girls to satisfy his primal needs in the most erotic ways imaginable, but none could satisfy the emptiness he continued to feel in his heart.
After the disasters caused when Nibiru went into opposition, the former US Senator had managed to contact his few remaining relatives to let them know he was still alive and to ask how they had fared. After that, he never contacted them again as his own family seldom cared for his company and the feeling was mutual.
However, his wife, Ginny, had come from a traditional, large Louisiana family, and her sense of family was strong. Had he paid more attention to her and their children, perhaps she would have stayed, he reasoned. She had also been deeply annoyed by his mysterious comings and goings and his persistent evasiveness about what he was doing. Wives despise secrets, which he figured was her right, and that probably had been the last straw. He missed her and the children, but with them gone, he was free to pursue his studies and other activates without the distraction and he grew to like that new sense of freedom and power very much, despite his loneliness. Tonight would be different however, as he now had good cause to celebrate. De Bono greeted him with outstretched arms and wrapped his arms around him. “Congratulations, my friend,” he said as he hugged Johnston. “Tonight, we shall enjoy a feast in honor of your good fortune."
The former Senator hugged him back feeling warmed and especially welcomed. Over the last six months, the two men had cultivated a warm and mutually valued friendship.
They stood back from the embrace with warm smiles. Yvette leaned towards him and kissed him gently on the cheek. “Congratulations, Senator,” she cooed.
“Well, let's proceed to our modest celebration then,” De Bono said as he led them through the massive bulletproof double doors of the expansive UNE estate. As they strolled through the elegantly appointed hallways and chatted, the security team followed from a discrete distance. “I'm sure you'll enjoy this evening, as I gave Yvette a free hand in organizing this little celebration dinner.” He looked at Cochereau who had until now been walking silently between the two men. “Yvette, you might want give him a little description of what he is going to experience this evening."
She smiled coyly and turned to the Senator. “It will be the four of us alone this evening in a small dining room that I happen to adore because of the chandeliers."
“The four of us,” Johnston asked.
She smiled. “I've taken the liberty of inviting a friend this evening. Her name is Danielle Peters. She works in the UNE public relations office. She was born and raised in England and received her Ph.D. in Public Relations from Stanford University in California."
“Get to the best part, my dear,” De Bono teased.
She twitched her nose at him. “Well it also seems,” she continued, “that Danielle is a culinary genius and will be preparing our meal tableside this evening."
“And what a meal it's going to be,” De Bono added with relish. “She will be preparing Angus beef filet mignons this evening, pan-seared with a delightful Cabernet Sauvignon and fresh Bing cherries. Along with that, we shall enjoy fresh spargel from one of my own family's private farms near Heidelberg. The season is young, but I believe you will find it a real treat."
“This sounds wonderful,” Johnston exclaimed. “Pardon my ignorance but what is spargel?"
De Bono laughed boisterously. “My dear friend, it is heaven on the tongue and well loved in Germany as a seasonal delicacy. I believe you Americans call it asparagus, but what you get are green stalks that frankly leave me quite unimpressed. This is because German spargel is cultivated with a covering of earth to keep it pale white. Tonight, Danielle will serve it in the traditional manner. She will saut© it in pure creamery butter, and it will literally melt in your mouth."
“Sounds heavenly,” Johnston replied with growing enthusiasm.
“And speaking of heavenly, wait till you see Danielle Peters,” De Bono added. As they approached the entry to the small, private dining room, Phillip Boretti, De Bono's Chief of Staff, greeted them politely as he opened the double doors with a refined flourish.
Johnston walked through the door, stopped in amazement, and quickly realized why Yvette so adored the chandeliers. Their dazzling cut crystal designs accentuated the flickering lights given off by concentric rings of pleasantly scented candles that filled the room with a warm, golden glow.
In the center of the room was a square, hardwood dining table with four, velvet padded high-backed chai
rs close enough that they could enjoy a casual conversation during their meal. The carefully laid place settings featured De Bono's favorite bone china, silver and crystal glassware.
However, the most dazzling thing in the room was standing to one side, in front of the large cooking cart positioned next to the table. It was Danielle Peters and she was nothing like Johnston had expected just a few moments earlier.
Dressed in a black low-cut, mid-length evening dress, her long shapely legs dominated her five foot eight height. He was immediately drawn to her large, dark blue wide-set eyes and her soft full lips accentuated by her small delicate jaw line, high forehead, perfectly framed by a tempest of full-bodied, ash blonde hair that fell gracefully along her shoulders and down to her mid-back.
She was wearing a white apron that seemed to accentuate her melon shaped breasts that hung firmly above a short, curvaceous torso with a narrow waist. His eyes followed the outer edges of the apron along her perfectly shaped hips, which seemed to him to be naturally made for holding close in the passion of the night.
On cue, Boretti closed the doors, leaving the four of them alone in the room. Gently flowing like water, Danielle walked up to Johnston and extended her hand. “Congratulations, Senator, and I hope you've brought a good appetite with you this evening."
Johnston took her hand and quickly realized that his stomach was not the only thing beginning to growl. “Thank you Ms. Peters,” he replied in a polite, gentlemanly tone with a distinctive flourish of southern accent. “And may I add that I do so look forward to enjoying your artful cooking this evening."
She nodded with an approving smile and gestured towards the table; “Shall we begin?"
They talked about little things as they took their seats, and Danielle immediately served chilled iceberg lettuce salads with her own special raspberry vinaigrette dressing. “Secretary General, I took the liberty of decanting the wine about thirty minutes ago, if you like."
Godschild Covenant: Return of Nibiru Page 10