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CHAPTER 12

LIKE A CRAZED pianist at his keyboard, I begin pushing buttons and twirling knobs. With no communication system, we are lost.

The black screen takes on a gray-blue color. It is one of those sickening, creepy shades that tells you there’s something wrong with your video systems. But in this case it is telling us that there is something wrong, terribly wrong, with the entire world.

Then the grayish color on the screen becomes haphazardly streaked with white lines.

“Look. You see those white lines?” Margo yells. “I think it’s water. Waves. Yes! It’s water!”

“How are they filming this?” Jessica asks.

I tell them that I can only assume that a dedicated newscaster, pilot, and cameraperson have taken to the sky in a helicopter. They may become the only survivors in all of Denmark.

The great blur of white lines and gray seems to wither away, then becomes smaller. The helicopter is flying higher and higher, trying to escape the tidal wave.

We watch, hypnotized, as the screen reveals what looks like a toy city about to drown.

The long view of the city of Copenhagen is nauseating and mesmerizing at the same time. We watch as the waves move closer, become bigger. There is no sound now, but the pictures are so compelling that we can imagine the roar. How big are the waves that have begun erasing the coast of Denmark? Are there actual words beyondbillions? Zillions? Mega-zillions? Infinite millions? Whatever the word is, the wave is ready to overwhelm the entire country.

I rub my eyes and bow my head. I think as hard as I possibly can. One thing I know for sure—this was planned. This is no simple freak of nature. This is, at the very least, a phenomenon viciously aided by a member of humankind.

Maddy jumps in, voicing my thoughts.

“Is it connected to the thing in Kyoto?”

“Yes. It’s a different kind ofthing,but it is an equally horrifyingthing,” I say.

Cataclysmic events like these are not coincidences. I know I’m right about this. This tidal wave was carefully calculated to annihilate the great intellects and scholars gathered for the awards ceremony in Europe. Just as the earthquakes of Kyoto were designed to do the same at one of the greatest brain centers in Asia.

The obvious question is: will this devastation today satisfy the evil goals of the person who designed it, or is this merely the beginning?

I will find out.

CHAPTER 13

EVERY CITY IN the world is on alert. But what can they do against mile-high tidal waves and disintegrating mountain ranges?

The news sources argue with one another. Each side blames the other. Politics, as always, overwhelms common sense. We all know there are no obvious solutions, but people are still scrambling for answers.

Many people blame the disasters on a mysterious force of nature. Some say we have always abused the environment. Now the environment is taking its revenge. Others believe it is the work of the god who made us. But what does that mean for those who don’t believe in God? The devil’s work? But who the hell is the devil?

I have meditated. I have turned the matter over and over in my brain. Yes, there is some terrible force at work. But I do not think it is mystical or magical. I do not think it is supernatural or paranormal. What we are witnessing is the triumph of a person of genius and passion, madness and hatred.

I sit in my communications room and brood. So far there have been no reports of destruction anywhere else. But I’m sure it’s just a matter of time.

Abuzzand aclickcome from my screen. I look up and see that Maddy is outside. I use a touch of my powers to allow her in.

“Have you looked at the sky?” she asks.

No, I have not. But my reflexive guess is that horror is soon to descend—clouds that rain chemicals, stars that hail firebombs.

“Look. Just look,” she says.

I snap on the sky-screen and see a small streak of black flashes. The image becomes bigger and bigger. The small streak is some sort of space unit composed of six or seven travel units. Not quite rocket ships, not quite satellites. For a nanosecond I imagine some sort of crazy Santa’s sleigh.

It comes closer. Then closer. I feel it might actually come crashing through my screen. Then it comes to a sudden stop. It hovers motionless over our backyard landing pad.

“What’s going on?” Maddy asks.