THE SHIFT
By M.E. Henton
Copyright 2012
Smashwords Edition
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For my Mother Charla, for without your endless love, guidance, patience and encouragement, these pages would not exist.
THE SHIFT
Having been roommates off and on for over 20 years, Zada and Megan were quite sure everyone thought they were together, as in a couple...“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” Neither one really gives it much thought - in fact, it’s a great cover! They’re just two companions in life, who happen to be best friends.
“Hetero Life Partners” Megan once called themselves and the name stuck. They had both been through ups and downs with relationships, were completely over the dating scene...even sex wasn’t important anymore. All their friends refer to them as Zada and Megan. Even their Christmas cards are addressed to the both of them.
Now in their late 40's, living in the boondocks in a tiny town near Sebring Florida called Clara, life is perfect. Its spring 2010 and Clara with mostly orange groves and a handful of residents is far from a modern town. There’s a feed store nearby, one convenience store and miles upon miles of hilly citrus groves, forests and pastures. The closest grocery is 20 miles away and the two plan trips to make sure they get everything they need in one visit.
With many of her life’s adventures lingering in photographs on the walls, Zada’s cozy office is where she spends most of her time. The windowed - sun lit room opens up to a large screened in porch surrounded by lush greenery and it is her sanctuary. Furnished in bamboo, throw pillows and hanging chairs, the space overlooks the most beautiful view she has ever seen. Surrounded by nature, wind chimes, and wildlife, it is her peaceful little hideaway - the perfect spot for her yoga and meditation.
The search for self and higher consciousness is a connection she and Megan have shared since they met. They are “soul sisters” who believed they had lived many lifetimes, somehow entangled together. They make a point of meditating daily and it has become a part of their lives. The quiet, self-awareness is something they each need... like food or water. Never having stepped foot inside a church except for weddings and funerals, Zada believes that organized religion is what has always divided people. She cherishes the thought that one day, all religions would simply vanish, taking with them all the wars and hate that have plagued the planet since their inception. Believing simply in personal karma, she finds orthodox religious views to be based on fear - a concept she considers absurd.
The divorce 6 years ago had left Zada feeling completely lost, as if the path she was on in her life suddenly did a 180. It was a radical shift and she felt it coming. Her independent streak (which she guessed caused the breakup in the first place) had turned to resolve and she found herself starting over. The twenty years she spent in the zoological field with exotic animals now just memories of her distant past - she was ready for a change. An animal career was a dream come true for Zada when she was young, but overtime she became aware of the “dark side” of captive animals and her joy slowly evolved to sadness and empathy.
When she saw an “opening available” sign at the local library, she immediately applied and was hired within a week. It opened doors to her love of writing she never knew existed and the years crept by. She loved being surrounded by all the books and knowledge in the quiet old building and would read endlessly. Just having published her first novella last year, the royalties were beginning to trickle in and it finally became time to pursue her real dream of full time writing.
“Zada, you can do anything you want to do - YOU are the captain of your ship!” Her Mother always said. It was advice she carried with her all her life since she was a child. She always considered herself to be the “earthy” type...never seen in a dress and heels, or makeup for that matter. There was a natural quality about her - a mass of blonde graying curls, a perfect match for the laugh lines and wrinkles that now outlined her face. With a peaceful, Zen view on life, her small frame belied the strong woman that she had become.
Her dreams became filled with story lines, and characters - taking on lives of their own and she would wake at all hours to chronicle each one. At times a familiar woman’s voice echoed in her sleep, as if guiding her to write, giving her inspiration. Eventually, she took a leap of faith and gave notice at the library. It was risky...quitting an actual job to write full time, but it was a risk she was willing to take. Her intuition was pulling her down a new path and she listened.
Enjoying the taste of being a writer and her new found confidence, she is happier than she had ever been. Spending hours at her computer, in the quiet comfort of the old house on the hill, she thought she had finally discovered her true talent.
Megan, a gifted artist, is a year older than Zada and one of the last remaining hippies. Long red curly hair down to her butt, usually in old jeans, T shirts and flip flops. Best friends since they’d met, the two women have developed a sort of dialect only they could understand. Constantly leaving notes for each other, with funny, cryptic drawings, their language had taken on a life of its own. The two had the ability at times to know what the other is thinking and feeling, sort of like how twins just understand each other, from the inside out.
Having studied the various principles and genres of art, Megan works at a small, independently owned T shirt shop, about an hour’s drive away in Lakeland. Computer graphics comes easily to her and although she loves her job, her true talent of free hand sketching and painting is her real passion. Constantly creating art work at home, she would paint or draw on almost anything! Zada returned one weekend from a trip to her Mom’s to find Megan had created beautiful designs on every single switch plate in the house.
Teaching Zada the methods of Trompe L’oeil, or “painting that deceives the eye”, the two had painted various doors walls and windows around the house, creating strange illusions. A faux fireplace on the living room wall, complete with brick work, mantle and flames, a castle door leading to Megan’s loft and a vine that wraps the kitchen cabinets are only a few of their projects. It is a hobby they both love and with each passing year, the house displays more and more of their combined talents.
They met at the Miami Ocean Park in 1987. Zada had applied there for months and had finally been offered a job as a trainer. When Megan was hired, several months later, the two became thicker than thieves. Working with dolphins and whales was like a fantasy come true for both of them! Married more to her job than to Paul, Zada’s marriage slowly fell apart and Megan was there to pick up the pieces. Getting married at 23 was, in retrospect, pretty stupid. She wasn’t ready and deep down she knew it. Living in Miami in the 80's and 90's was an adventure! Two single women, playing with dolphins during the day and enjoying South Florida’s constant partying at night. They had shared everything from apartments and clothes to life changing experiences.
Eventually the 90's came to a close and the party ended. Megan moved to California to go to art school, Zada moved back in with her Mother near Tampa when her Dad passed and was soon hired as a zookeeper at Tampa Bay Zoo. They kept in touch as the years passed, both knowing that one day, the “soul sisters” would be together again.
Zada and Scott dated for a year before he popped the question and despite her inner doubts - she said yes. Finding herself married again, Zada hoped this time she could make it work! The old house was on the auction block in 2001... “Quaint fixer-upper” the flyer said and with a modest offer and the sound of a gavel, it was theirs. An hour’s drive from everywhere, it was the center of the universe to her. The moment she stepped foot into the 90 year old home, she was in love!
Sitting empty for over five years, the aged house at the top of a hill had an energy and charm that immediately sucked her in. Headstrong and tenacious, Zada began to renovate with what little they could afford. Scott was a lineman for Central Energy and with Zada’s zookeeper salary all their combined income went to restore the old house. Arguments were frequent and over time it was far more than they had bargained for. Constantly in need of some repair or another, the home’s financial burden took its toll on the marriage.
When the breakup was final in ‘05, Scott didn’t want the expense of the big old house, so Zada refinanced it and she and Megan have lived there together since. It’s like an old friend to her, a labor of love and a gem of a house...far from urban sprawl, hidden in obscurity. The tiny hamlet of Clara is located on the southern tip of the Central Florida Ridge. A lovely, hilly area with thousands of ancient sinkhole lakes...actually about 200 feet above sea level and a nice change from the flat expanses of land on either side.
The house was built in 1920 and apparently added on throughout the years creating a strange, sprawling space with hardwood floors throughout. The rooms are arranged in such a way that most visitors, of which there are few, always get lost. The odd floor plan is like a maze and getting from the office to the kitchen to answer the phone before a call is missed is always a trick! There is a library in the old house with floor to ceiling solid wood bookshelves and the old piano. It’s a dark room that neither Megan nor Zada spend much time in - other than to find a book. The dim lighting and completely wood interior creates an almost cavernous, spooky feel.
The mysterious thing about the library is the secret room - a small space, about 6' x 8' under the stairs, behind the bookshelves. You would never know that room was there and whoever built it wanted it that way! The odd thing about the secret room is the panel on the floor that you can move and actually slip down underneath the house! Hurricane supplies are kept in there now... dried rice and beans, canned food, candles, matches, flashlights and water, just in case. It has really become more like a novelty, something they show to friends on occasion.
There is an old swimming pool just off the East side of the house, built sometime back in the 50's. Small and unusually deep, it’s lovely tile work in the image of a mermaid sprawled across the bottom and despite its age, was in immaculate condition. Zada swims every morning in the summer, as she cherishes the feeling of being enveloped in water, weightless and free. It is one of her favorite diversions and brings back memories of the dolphins and whales she spent so much time with in her youth.
On occasion, her left shoulder, which was dislocated during a dolphin show back in ‘89 would remind her in a more painful way about those crazy and wonderful times.
“We’re just getting older, man.” Megan would say...”remember, you’re not a kid anymore.”
Her shoulder would periodically pop out of the socket, and Megan begged her not to swim alone, or do tough projects without her. Zada considered the old injury as a kind of “badge”, a token of the salad days that was always with her, constantly mindful of it.
Megan lives upstairs in what used to be the attic, now a perfect space for her and her two dogs, Ed and Bean. Enclosed by the arched faux painted door, the steps wind steeply toward a 90 degree turn. Ascending up to the middle of the room, the narrow steps opened to Megan’s “hippie heaven”. Hanging beads decorate the space, along with antique furniture eclectic pieces of artwork and incense burners.
One corner was dedicated to her tarot cards and rune stones. With oversized bean bag chairs, a ceramic statue of the Buddha and a few candles, the corner had a welcoming eeriness Zada loved. Since the two had met, Megan had always had them. She would read Zada’s cards and rune stones often, and was usually right on target. Runes date back to ancient Norse tribes and perhaps even as far back as the Bronze age. Used as a type of language, each symbol represents aspects of the self and concepts to further spiritual growth.
“Forewarned is forearmed” she used to say. She would read for anyone who asked, and always enchanted Zada’s family with her impressions when they came for a visit.
The ceiling is angled in such a way that it’s only about 4' from the floor near the sides and corners, with 3 large glass sun lights running the length of the center of the room. There are two storage areas up there completely filled with stuff that in order to enter, one must hunch over or crawl. Neither one of them could throw something away that they thought they “could use later”. Not considering themselves to be hoarders, if someone entered one of the storage areas, they would beg to differ.
Megan’s tiny balcony overlooks the pool on the east side, giving her a lovely view of the hilly landscape and the sunrise. Facing northwest, the front of the house looks deceivingly small, like a cottage built into the side of an unusually steep hill. The old wooden front porch wraps around the Southwest side of the house on the highest point of land. The opposite and back side of the house faces southeast and overlooks a steep decline of wild vegetation down toward the lakes. It stands on two acres of hillside with the pool and house at the peak and the front one acre yard fenced in for four dogs.
The trees vines and plants around the property are left to grow wild, creating an almost impenetrable jungle. Four years ago, Megan planted a dozen bougainvillea and bamboo along the fence line and perimeter of the house, which now were at least 30 feet tall. Over the years, everything the two had planted thrived! Even their tiny vegetable garden and pecan tree produced unusually large, delicious produce.
The natural barrier creates an illusion from the road that there isn’t even a house behind it. The two love the freedom and “invisibility” that nature had built for them. Some locals believe the house is haunted, its antiquated charm is to say the least, esoteric. Even though over the years both women had heard unusual sounds and experienced strange shadows and voices, neither one found them frightening. The cryptic nature of the old house and the possibility of other worldly occupants only made it more interesting and fun. Cloaked in vines, flowers and obscure history, it is their perfect secluded paradise.
The only structure visible from the road was the small garage containing “The Mater”...a red 1973 VW Beetle. Zada owned a ‘71 while living in Miami and when she found the Mater 6 years ago, she just had to have her. The little car mostly sits in her comfy space in the garage and Zada drives her occasionally. Even though sometimes she sits for weeks without being started, as soon as her key is turned, the little engine wakes up and purrs perfectly.
CHAPTER TWO
Over time, the enduring house stood up to dozens of tropical storms and hurricanes and back in 2004 four named storms battered the area. As soon as the clean up after one was done, another was on its way. A live oak with a squirrel’s nest had fallen out back and with all the mayhem after a storm, there was Zada, rearing three little baby squirrels.
As winter finally rolled around, it was time for them to be on their own and she decided to take them to the woods across from her Mom’s house to release them. Most of the oaks around Clara were bare, and since Mom’s place had avoided direct hits from the storms, they would have plenty of acorns through the season. There must be 1000 squirrels there, and Zada had felt responsible for at least half of them!
The hour drive West to Mom’s house is a county road and semi-truck route winding through vast hilly orange groves, then opening up to the flat expanses of the phosphate mines. The recent storms had left their mark on the landscape and the mangled trees reflected the brunt of nature’s fury. Sprinkled with a few tiny towns and mile after mile of open pasture land, it was a way Zada knew well. As she drove with the squirrels tucked safely into the release cage in the back of the Ranger, listening to public radio as always, a distinct voice in her ear rose above the radio chatter...
“Look to your left Zada”.
Startled, she did exactly what it said. Looking left, there he was, only about a foot tall, sitting directly on the yellow line of the shoulder, his head hanging down...almost touching the ground, a pitiful looking tan and gray puppy - in the middle of nowhere. Zada had heard the faint voice before. It was somehow always there, guiding her. Ever since she was a child, she could remember having felt its presence. She thought everyone had their own personal voice with them, like a friend, helping out through life’s ups and downs.
Pulling the truck over about 20 yards away on the desolate road, she got out.
“Hey little dude, are you ok?”...she asked, kneeling down. He stood up, looked directly at her and ran toward her like a gazelle, leaping at her from about 6 feet away, right into her arms. The moment she caught him, she could smell the putrid stench of mange! His skin was completely covered in oozing pustules, almost devoid of hair. Little ribs poked out of his side. He was a mess. She plopped him on the floor of the passenger side and he fell asleep immediately.
She drove the entire way with all the windows down due to the repulsive smell, constantly checking on the frail little puppy as she went. Finally reaching her Mother’s, she released the squirrels across the street and went to tend to the weary, emaciated animal who she thought was on death’s door.
“Who do we have here?” Mom asked opening the truck door as Zada lifted out his limp body.
“He’s pretty bad Mom, I’m not sure if he’s gonna make it...can you start the water in the tub?”
Over the years, Zada had brought home countless strays, orphaned or injured animals and her Mother was always there to help. Even as a child, any creature she found that was in need, was brought home and mended. It was something she felt compelled to do, as if her empathy and love could somehow cancel out the pain.
As the two bathed his feeble little body, his shallow breathing waned and for a moment and they thought he had slipped away.
“Grab a can of cat food for me?” Zada asked Mom as she placed his dripping body on a towel. She held the smelly dish under his nose. He woke as if shocked out of a coma, inhaled it in one gulp, and collapsed again.
“I’ll call the vet, honey...” Mom said rushing to the phone.
In the vet’s waiting room, Zada avoided the sympathetic looks of the other people - focused entirely on the declining creature in her arms until her name was called.
“Is he gonna make it”? She asked the vet nervously...
“If he does, it will be a miracle...this dog is in bad shape.”
The veterinarian said in a matter of fact tone.
He slept through the entire exam - even the spoon up the butt to check for parasites and the blood draw didn’t wake him.
He looked as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. His gums were white with anemia and the pads of his little feet were red and worn completely smooth.
“He’s shutting down. We can euthanize him...” the Vet began to say and Zada interrupted her immediately.
“No, that’s ok...I’m taking him home.”
“You can try these” the Dr. said, handing her several bottles of medications...
“But, I really think he’s too far gone. We can try and stabilize him, but I can’t make any promises.”
He soaked up two bags of fluids through the catheter within an hour and she carried him back to the Ranger, gently placed him inside and whispered in his ear...
“You are gonna make it little man, I’ve got faith in you!” and he gently wagged his tail, without even opening his eyes.
She drove back to the house on the hill, feeling a little defeated by the Doctor’s pessimistic words, but she held tightly to the hope that her love and care could change this animal’s destiny. The dog slept for 3 days, only waking up to eat. He didn’t even try to relieve himself. She checked him every few hours to make sure he was still breathing, pretty sure the next time she would find him dead.
On the 4th day, she woke up early to find him sitting up in his crate, wagging his tail. He was going to make it after all! After months of treatments, the disgusting pustules had given way to short nubs of black hair, he had gained twice his body weight and his coat became shiny black and smooth as silk. The only area that isn’t black, is a small butterfly shape of white on the center of his neck, like a little bow necktie.
She named him Petey and she and Megan nicknamed him “Mr. Wiggles” or “Wigs” for short. When he wags his tail he undulates as if he’s wagging his entire body, sometimes knocking down anything nearby. Zada had always felt when you rescue an animal like Petey, so close to death there is a sort of kinship that’s formed. It is a bond that can’t be broken. She had never known where that voice came from...the one that told her to “look left” - the familiar, woman’s voice who directed her to Petey that brisk winter day out on the desolate back road. She hoped that someday she would find out.
Sometimes, people would bring her baby squirrels, possums the occasional bunny or skunk, and she always welcomed their arrival. Somehow, it was her way of giving back to Gaia, Mother Earth, helping the helpless. Never having children, she guessed it’s just her maternal instinct at work. Many of the wayward animals she tended to were released out back and over the years, Zada was able to identify most of them.
Standing with the binoculars on the back porch, she could pick out even individual squirrels and rabbits she had once bottle fed and was always delighted when she saw them with their own broods. Everyone was named, and over time, the names became more and more bizarre!
“I think that’s Boobs” She announced one morning to Megan.
“Boobs” was an orphaned squirrel she had released a few years back and every season the little rodent would return and nest just outside her office window. Zada loved being able to watch each new litter grow and become adults themselves and she even named the babies.
“There goes Brazen and Raisin...” She said, happily handing Megan the binoculars.
“How do you know man?...I mean, they all look the same to me.” Megan said squinting...
“I can just tell, they’re all different.” she answered in a matter of fact way.
Every morning out back, the ground was usually alive with animals and birds enjoying the free buffet that was sprinkled there. Sometimes new visitors would pique her curiosity. One morning, she spotted a tiny newcomer creeping amongst the gathering diners near the fence out back. At first, it appeared to be a mouse or maybe even a juvenile rat, but at closer inspection she realized he was a little Salt Marsh Vole. The dried blood and recent injury on the side of his face gave him the appearance of a Lilliputian boxer...his little ear looking as if it had been entirely bitten off and she named him Ivander Voleyfield.
He was holding his own, surrounded by birds and squirrels. She could see him struggling to find tid-bits, sometimes dodging attacks from blue jays and mockingbirds...he looked pitiful. She began sitting on the steps of the porch with a dish of seeds, when she saw him. Within a week, he was eating from her hand. With a dab of antibiotic on her fingertip, she would swipe his wound if he got close enough and a brief kinship was born. He would climb up the tree outside her office window and peer in and she looked forward to his solicitations. Voles only live about a month and Zada was sad when his visits came to an end. She felt happy to have made his short life just a little bit better.
She keeps a large can of powdered puppy and kitten formula in the fridge and a stash of several different sizes of baby bottles, various cages and sleeping boxes in the garage - just in case. She hadn’t had any babies to tend to in a while and she felt a bit lonely, not having to wake up during the night and bottle feed little mouths.
Zada’s bedroom opens to the “sun room” an entirely glassed space that she and Megan use as an art room. It’s always in a state of disorder, with paints, brushes, canvasses (some blank, some half started), an easel in the corner and the old rattan couch the dogs use. The nearly 180 degree view from the room encompassed two perfectly circular lakes, their little vegetable garden, and Grace.
Grace is the aptly named, 80 year old pecan tree, dominating the landscape between the house and the lakes. It creates the feeling of being in a tree house. Her enormous branches offer a cover of shade and protection over the house. Surrounded by orange groves to the North and West, there isn’t a house or structure in view for miles. Except for the crazy neighbors around the small lake, they are pretty much isolated.
JoAnn and Carl, along with their psychotic son, Carl Jr., live just to the South on the side of the small lake. They are the kind of “God fearing, bible thumping, righteous minded scary people” Zada had always tried to avoid. They wave and say hello on occasion, but mostly just tolerate each other. Carl Jr., now in his early 20's, is schizophrenic and over the years has gotten in trouble with the local police, burned down the travel trailer Carl Sr. and JoAnn bought for him out back, attacked JoAnn on several occasions, and basically scares the hell out of both Zada and Megan.
A phone call out of the blue one day from her friend Dee, a county sheriff gave her concern.
“You didn’t hear this from me, but Carl Jr. has attacked his Mother again”.
Dee had known him from his many encounters with her in the past. She was called to the house to find JoAnn locked in her bedroom - the house was a wreck, Carl Jr, was in a fetal position on the floor and obviously had a relapse. During her interview with him, he began to ramble incoherently, telling crazy stories that he surely contrived. He told her he hears Zada’s voice in his head telling him to do things! She and Carl Jr. have never spoken a word to each other, so how in the hell did he hear HER voice? Since that episode she has basically avoided contact with the entire family.
They Baker Acted him after that and sent him away for “help”, but he is back now and hopefully taking his medication. He has that kind of empty look in his eyes that you can’t see through, as though the mind behind his eyes is a hollow vacuum. Sometimes they would see him outside, standing by the lakes. He stands quietly for what seems like hours, just gazing out through his empty eyes. Deep down Zada felt a sense of empathy toward Carl - a young man, who instead of searching for his dreams and finding his way in the world, is held hostage by his broken mind. Despite her sympathy for him, she had a feeling of unease, and she kept a little .38 caliber by her bed...just in case.
CHAPTER THREE
As the spring of 2010 waned into summer, Zada sensed a peculiar change in the air, an almost imperceptible - gut feeling that something big was coming, something that couldn’t be stopped...or understood, for that matter. As news came of the insidious oil gusher in the Gulf, her thoughts became consumed by it. Vivid nightmares with dolphins, birds, turtles and fish - so real their impressions dominated even her waking hours.
Her intense dreams were as if she was witnessing the devastation first hand...actually present with countless drowning victims in the brown, filthy sludge... engulfed and strangled. Sometimes waking and gasping for air, she thought she could feel the pain of the planet herself, a kindred connection that was now almost unbearable.
The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming as she tried her best to hide her anxiety and get on with daily life. On the news everyday they showed the deep well of oil gushing thousands of barrels a day into the Gulf like some unstoppable demon tearing into the world and killing everything it came across. The torment and loss went on for months.
There were images of blackened, oil soaked pelicans and turtles constantly on TV and in the papers. It seemed like everyone she saw, people on the street, even friends and family, were all impervious to what was happening. Except for her Mother, who, like her, felt personally affected by it and they spent most every night on the phone quelling each other’s fears. Grateful for her Mother’s comforting words, Zada would tell her about the nightmares while Mom did her best to console, each helping the other through what was a long relentless summer.
Zada’s Mother was the quintessential “Mom” to everyone who knew her...no one used her actual name, which she didn’t mind. “Kezziah Jerushia Shafer”, a name passed down through many generations always stymied anyone trying to pronounce it, so the moniker “Mom” worked just fine.
Patient, kind and generous, she was always counseling others and helping in any way she could if someone was in need. Her house was filled with old photographs and mementos of her travels as a young lady. A true adventurer at heart, she had visited the kind of places that Zada had only dreamed about. She always asked Mom to re-tell her fascinating stories about Africa, Egypt, the Far East and her journeys through South America. Even though Zada had heard the accounts at least a hundred times, she always found them enchanting and could listen for hours.
As weeks turned into months, each sweltering day was a facsimile of the one before and the muck gushed endlessly. There was even a live “oil cam” at the bottom, broadcasting the volcano 24/7 on most TV stations. After several frustrating attempts, they somehow plugged the hole and the clean-up began. In her mind, the Gulf was dead... “they’ve killed it” she thought, “it will never be the same.”
The oil company poured and sprayed millions of gallons of “dispersant” into the water and to many it was miraculously cleaned up. The truth was the chemical sank all the oil to the bottom of the Gulf so it didn’t wash up on the beaches. Awesome for the beaches, but what are the consequences beneath the waves? All she could picture was a thick layer of death, like ghastly blankets on the ocean floor in the Gulf.
As beach towns and resorts vied for tourist dollars on billboards and ads showing white pristine sand...the absolute destruction was hidden deep beneath the surface. There were commercials on the tube and in the papers announcing the fabulous fishing in the Gulf, miles of unspoiled shore line and discounted vacations - all paid for by the oil company, in lame efforts to save their asses and maybe breathe some life back into the dwindling economy.
“Come and eat our fish”, the ads blared, trying to convince everyone that by some miracle, the fish were healthy, the water was clean and everything was back to normal. Deep down, people knew better. Tourism, theme parks and the entire fishing industry continued to struggle.
Her brother Ian, 8 years her junior, told her to stop worrying about it...
“Zada, ya can’t let this get to you...kiddo, you can’t DO anything about it. They’ll clean it up.” he said one night, hugging her and patronizingly patting her back. He and his longtime fiancé Ali live with Mom, in Valleydale, a small suburb not far from Tampa. It’s a large ranch style home with a master bedroom on each end, with plenty of space. Ali is an office manager at a local Doctor’s office, where she met Ian 15 years ago. Ian works part time with a security company where he tolerates his job and goes to school part time, earning his forensics degree.
Suffering with Cystic Fibrosis, he had spent the large majority of his childhood in hospitals and came very close to death on a number of occasions. Deeply in love, Ian and Ali had been engaged for over 13 years and everyone wondered if they would ever actually tie the knot. She and her family moved to Florida from Liverpool, England when she was in high school and shortly afterwards her Mother passed away. Her father, Gil, lives about 60 miles north, near the West coast, so he visits now and then.
Usually around the holidays, her extended English family, either come to Florida for a visit, or Ali, Ian and Gil go to England. They had invited Mom to go numerous times, but, now in her 80's, she hadn’t much wanted to travel. The crazy English gang was always welcome when they would visit! Zada’s favorites are Ali’s cousin Robbie and his wife Sue...they are almost impossible to understand when they speak, with their odd English accent then coupled with the fact they can each put down a whole pint of beer before she could even take two sips, made conversation even more of a challenge! She would find herself just laughing and nodding, having no idea what the hell they were talking about!
Robbie, short and stocky, with the appearance of a rugby player, his shaved head, gleaming blue eyes and constant smile is a joy to be around! His wife Sue, a lovely woman only about 4 feet tall, has the sweet disposition of an angel, always warm and welcoming, hugging everyone she meets. Having invited Zada to come visit them several times, she had hoped to one day make the trip...even perhaps going out to see Stonehenge and Silbury Hill, which were both definitely on her bucket list!
CHAPTER FOUR
The height of the economic crash was upon everyone - along with crazy weather and worst of all...uncertainty. Many people had lost their jobs, houses and hope. The New Year was finally here and it felt good to say goodbye to such a traumatic span of time. The usual parties were happening and many invitations came that Zada had simply ignored.
She wasn’t feeling it this year. She and Megan stayed home with their animals and toasted a glass of cheap champagne...it was a perfectly fine New Year’s Eve for them. The first day of 2011 felt normal, like any other day. As usual when she is off work, Megan logged onto the internet to take a look around.
”Zaaade, c’mere...you’re not gonna believe this, man”. Megan called from the office.
“You gotta see this!...”
“I’m coming...need more Jo?...” She yelled, pouring herself a hot cup.
“No, just get your ass in here!” She could hear Megan still calling.
Blowing steam from her cup, pulling a chair up next to Megan, she settled in and leaned toward the computer monitor...what she saw blew her away! Millions of birds had fallen from the sky in Arkansas, Texas and other places. There were mass die-offs of fish in rivers all through the central US. Multitudes of sea creatures... crabs, even octopus, were being found washed up on beaches by the billions - worldwide.
“Oh my God! Those poor animals, what in the hell could have killed them, in numbers like this?”
“I don’t know, man, it’s like they all checked out at the same time - weird!” Megan said, staring at the bizarre reports moving across the screen. Men in bio suits were shoveling feathered bodies off roadways and people’s lawns... news video of cars casually driving over flattened blobs in the road. Miles of rivers choked with lifeless fish bodies bobbing in the sun, and beaches strewn with corpses of every possible variety flickered across the monitor as if they were watching a bad horror movie.
Sue had even phoned Ali from Liverpool and told her about the strange animal die offs there as well. They had awakened to millions upon millions of dead crabs along the waterways there and people were out collecting them in buckets.
Zada became so interested and curious about it that she spent hours online trying to figure out what was happening. Surfing the net and sifting through news...the usual mass media bullshit was there “fireworks may have surprised the birds”...“pollution in the river killed the fish”, all types of stupid reasons for what was happening.
Some websites were saying that HAARP, a government secret weapon located in Alaska was to blame. The die-off continued through January into February and by early spring had slowly disappeared from the headlines. No one knew and as usual, everyone got back to their busy lives and forgot about it...Zada didn’t.
Seeing contrails in the sky from high flying jets wasn’t anything unusual - but something odd was happening. Now, there were grid patterns of streaky jet emissions that would linger for hours and then spread across the entire sky causing it to turn to an almost yellow hue. Sometimes the lines and streaks in the sky were almost in a perfect X or chessboard configurations nearly blotting out the sun and she found them disturbing. Everything she could find online was either conspiracy theories or de-bunkers, neither of which quelled her curiosity.
“Maybe they’re just saving us from radiation” Megan offered on a particularly busy day of spraying and Zada shot her a frown.
Whatever was being sprayed in the skies was being kept a secret and Zada wanted to know. She found that some people in Oregon had actually caught rain water after a heavy day of spraying and found high amounts of aluminum and barium.
“Maybe Megan is right” she thought, reading through the bloggers claims, “or maybe they are hiding something from us...” Her thoughts spun. Despite all her research, the mainstream media ignored the trails in the sky and so did most everyone else.
The bizarre news that the sun rose two days early in Greenland was the clincher. She knew something was happening; not just something in Greenland, but something was happening to the entire planet. Gaia was bending under some heavy weight. Was she simply over our assault? Was some other planetary body having an effect on her? As strange events unfolded all over the globe, it was clear we were headed for something that no one was ready for...but what?
In early March, the earthquake and tsunami happened in Japan. It was as if she couldn’t tear herself away from the computer screen watching all the devastation on the other side of the planet. So many people killed - so much loss, so much pain. It was then that she and Megan started monitoring the earthquake websites, strange weather patterns, and anomalies around the world. This, on the heels of the huge Haiti quake, then more in Bolivia, Peru, Chile, New Zealand... all over the globe…it seemed quakes were happening in succession, unstoppable.
News came of the flooding along the Mississippi and how they had to open the dikes to release water into farm land all along the river delta. Farmers were devastated, and months after, still were unable to farm their land. It seems that run off from the last year’s blizzards had caused much of the flooding. There was so much water it flooded from the Ohio valley into Mississippi and surrounding states. They called it “The 100 Year Flood”, although somehow she knew the next 100 year flood wouldn’t take that long.
Hurricane season was busy as usual, but every storm was pulled up by the jet stream and avoided the wang entirely. Megan called Florida “the wang”, as it just sort of hangs out of the country like a penis, so far avoiding much of the catastrophes. Most of the storms either went out to the Atlantic or ended up in the Northeast, some of which caused terrible flooding. Seeing so many strange weather patterns, terrible cold up north, earthquakes, tsunamis and hurricanes impacting as far north as Vermont, they somehow felt very safe on their little peninsula.
As summer slowly turned to fall, a small pimple-like growth had appeared on Zada’s right cheek. At first she barely noticed it, and then thought it was a zit. It grew so fast and so large during the month of September, that by the time she saw a Doctor in October, she was scheduled for surgery two days later. It turned out to be a malignant squamous tumor. The scar wasn’t as bad as she imagined it would be and she felt lucky they got the entire thing.
“Half a face-lift!” She thought, as it was actually nice to see the scar and ugly stitches where there once was a horrible, vein- laden tumor. Healing quickly over the next couple of months, Zada monitored the internet daily and slowly picked away at her current novel, a mystery set in ancient Sumer. Intrigued by what archaeologists believed to be the first human civilization, she found herself entranced and writing constantly.
While researching for the book, she became mesmerized with the sheer number of ancient archeological sites being discovered around the globe, spending long hours reading and digging deeper. Finding a mix of only theories and carbon dating debates, it appeared to her to be anyone’s guess on the actual age of our earliest civilization.
All over the planet people were discovering stone remains of such architectural accuracy that were simply impossible for humans to achieve in that era of our so-called evolution here on Earth. Many scientists agreed that humans were unable to build these structures today even with our modern machinery. Some of the ancient sites were thought to be at least 20,000 years old, and according to mainstream archeologists, humans had only crawled out of the Stone Age 10,000 years ago. Many sites recently found were under several hundred or even thousands of feet of water, still pristine, below the waves.
Zada was filled with unanswerable questions about things like crop circles, codices, ancient stone temples and monoliths. Finding she was especially drawn to the Great Sphinx at Giza, its enigmatic gaze, staring off into the Eastern sky like some kind of guardian of time itself. Orthodox answers to its age and construction were nonsense to her, given its erosion and position among the pyramids. She postulated it must be thousands of years older than Egyptologists allege.
Frustrated by the unwillingness of Egypt’s archeological mainstream to study it further, she was sure there was more to this mysterious stone entity than what meets the eye. There were several ground penetrating radar studies allowed, which showed enormous caverns directly beneath its immense paws, but that is where the research was halted. How she wished she could one day learn the truth and see it for herself! Much of her research led to strange places like the Bermuda Triangle, the South Atlantic Anomaly and the Zone of Silence in Mexico, where Earth’s magnetism goes haywire, planes crash, and radio contact is lost.
Having traveled to Mexico with Megan back in 1991, they toured every ancient site possible and even rented a VW Beetle to drive the countryside searching for ruins to explore. The memory of that trip is etched in her mind...the enormity of the stones, the energy she and Megan felt when they had finally hiked their way to the top of their first pyramid and the childlike joy they felt walking in the footsteps of such ancient people. They each bought handmade woven hoodies on the trip and despite their age, were still in beautiful condition. Probably the best winter wear they had - they both wore them when it was cool... a warm reminder of their adventures in the Yucatan.
Recalling that journey helped as a basis for her novel as she researched and wrote for days on end. Sometimes, Megan would return home from work to find her, still in her bed clothes, sitting at the computer, not having moved all day.
“You’re like Howard Hughes, man...ya hermit, you at least have to eat!” Megan lamented, eyeballing the messy space, littered with paper, half eaten bread, books and notes.
“I totally lose track of time, it’s weird, I sit down to write and when I check...hours have passed. It’s a time warp Meg. You’re right though, look at me!” Zada agreed... raising her arm toward Megan.
“I haven’t showered in like 3 days!”
“I love that you’re writing so much”, Megan said - leaning back. “But I’m your best friend, you gotta get out some, at least go to the store or something! Just sayin’!” she said, flicking the back of Zada’s head.
Tempered by reason, Zada did her best to balance the rest of her life with writing, visiting the family more often, finishing little projects around the house, and spending time with the animals. Only writing on odd days, gave her time to think, and it was usually about the book. Often reading to Megan in the evenings, her insight was always broadened by honest feedback and on those odd numbered days, Zada waited in earnest for Megan to get home to torture her with yet another chapter.
Spending so much time searching on the internet brought her to web sites she didn’t expect...sometimes to survival forums, where people offered advice for the coming apocalypse, occasionally to blogs and conspiracy theorists...all spouting their own breed of cataclysm.
Finding her curiosity piqued about the whole 2012 thing, the Mayan calendar’s elegant timekeeping gave her pause and she began to find it hard to deny that something was taking place. Even ancient prophesies from the Hopi Indians and others, matched the same timeframe and were remarkably similar.
The earthquakes became more frequent now... even in such strange places as Oklahoma. Megan had found a website called Solarvision24, a very detailed site showing solar images, sun spots and coronal mass ejections (CME’s), that she checked daily. The sun was entering what they call “Solar Maximum”, when every 11 years, it flips its north and south magnetic poles and goes through what some were calling temper tantrums.
“What if one of those CME’s hit us?...could be why your tumor grew so fast!” Megan asked...”Remember the caterpillars we found on the passion vine last summer - they were dangling there like little french fries!! I’m gonna look that up”...
“Oh yea the caterpillars!” Zada remembered...
The wild vine that had started in the side yard had eventually made its way almost completely around the house. It was passion flower with amazing purple blooms followed by large kiwi sized fruit. Megan had trained it up a trellis, around the front porch and up the railing.
In the summer months it was completely covered in little orange caterpillars, then masses of orange and black butterflies. On a particularly hot day, they had discovered hundreds of the caterpillars dead and stuck to the leaves and stems of the vine. They looked like they had been cooked, their little tubular bodies deflated, black, and almost crispy looking.
Megan found there had been a large CME burst in July that caused some satellites to fail, bringing beautiful auroras to as far south as Kentucky. She had the mind of a detective. If there was something she didn’t know, she would search until she found out, always finding new and curious tid-bits online to share with Zada.
It was becoming a strange season...already deadly cold in the northwest, even for early November...places were frozen under feet of snow and power was out in many cities. The news was calling it “Snovember”. Zada always hated the way they create silly names for disasters...the smiling, talking heads on the TV. While some states were under feet of snow, others were breaking records for the warmest temps. Florida had been getting the typical cold fronts, with rain and wind followed by gorgeous cool nights and clear days.
CHAPTER FIVE
Rain falling on the tin roof of the porch outside woke Zada up. Petey, Jack and Kato, all in their usual spots on the bed, were already awake and seemed to be looking toward the lakes with strange awareness. Kato leaped from the bed and ran to one of his hiding spots nearby as Jack headed to the porch, (the usual when a possum or rabbit are in range), but this time was different. Instead of barking an alarm, he simply stood there, looking out into the darkness toward the lakes, as still as a statue.
Jack is Zada’s sentry, a guardian of the house alarming them to everything from the mailman and the neighbors arriving home, to a passing vulture. He barks his alarm, runs around making sure everyone hears it, whines a little, then settles back down until the next event arouses him. He is an enormous 100 pound animal with a strange mix of what looks like a Saint Bernard and a Boxer. His huge head looking much too large for his body, he has the appearance of a giant teddy bear.
Jack arrived out of the blue the evening Megan moved back in.
Celebrating Zada’s freedom and Megan’s return, they cracked a bottle of expensive champagne and toasted.
“Welcome back Soul Sister.” Zada said, holding up her glass,
“There’s no place like home!” Megan said as they toasted.
Suddenly, the combination of wolves howling and deafening barks interrupted their sip.
“Somebody’s at the gate man, sounds like they want in!” Megan said. Grabbing the flashlight, they walked outside to see what all of the ruckus was about. Just outside the gate an enormous dog was jumping and leaping around as if about to explode! As Megan opened the gate, he bounded past them, somehow made it through the porch railing, and launched himself directly at Petey.
Expecting a ferocious fight, they both picked up something to chase off this crazy giant dog who just barged right in. Instead, the animals behaved as if they were having some kind of reunion...wagging tails, sniffing, and then they began to frolic and play like puppies! Upon closer inspection, they noticed his coat was a mess of briars and stickers, the pads of his feet and nails were bloody with gravel embedded in them and his ribs and hip bones were poking through his thick mass of hair.
They brought him inside and sat on the kitchen floor, drinking champagne and slowly picked stickers and weeds from his coat and cleaned up his bloody feet. He was treated to 3 cans of dog food and at least a gallon of water. Sighing loudly and with a heavy “whump” he plopped down in front of the fridge and fell asleep. They never knew where Jack came from and no one answered their posters and ads. It was as if he had been away for years and finally returned.
Jack and Petey were kept inside for the first few weeks after his arrival so that the rickety old picket fence could be reinforced. One day, after leaving Jack inside for the day, they returned home to find him in the front yard! Megan’s window upstairs had been opened, the screen still somehow dangling from its frame... the only hypothesis they had was that Jack had broken out and jumped off the roof...not a scratch on him!
Over the years they’ve had him, he has jumped out at least 10 windows, having the uncanny ability of getting his enormous body out of the window, leaving the screen still somehow attached. The little wooden fence surrounding the front of the property was a mere annoyance to him when he would break out to take a swim down at the lakes...sometimes followed by the other dogs. He always came back, usually covered in pond scum, soaked to the bone and smelling like rotten eggs.
Zada and Megan have layered that old fence in everything from chicken wire, hot wire and even chain link buried into the ground. He somehow still escapes now and then, especially during the hot summer...and they would fix the various holes and weak spots they could find, only to discover him down at the lakes again within a few days.
Jack was called the “shape-shifter”, somehow getting his huge form through a hole in the fence that looked as if a rabbit would have a hard time getting through! No one ever actually witnessed one of his escapes, although Megan’s humorous theory is that he transforms himself magically into a snake or a rat, wiggles through the fence and turns back into Jack on the other side!
He is the guardian, always on patrol, offering a wonderful sense of security. Since his arrival, Zada sleeps with the windows and screen porch doors open at night, knowing that if anyone or anything tried to come in, they would have Jack to deal with! She had always believed that people and animals are drawn together, either by fate or unseen force and his timely appearance at the front gate that evening was proof enough for her!
Petey, on the other hand, could sleep through anything, allowing Jack the duties of security guard. But this time Petey was up, still on the bed but standing stiff, like a hunting dog who found his prey in the grass. It must have been 2 or 2:30 in the morning and Megan was still asleep, Usually Zada would hear her up around 4:30 getting ready for work, but this time all was quiet. As she walked out to see what Jack was looking at, putting her face directly on the screen to see outside through the darkness, all she could hear was the frying egg sound of light rain on the metal roof of the screened porch. As she stood peering out, the sound slowly became louder, “wow, it’s really coming down” she thought, turning to head back to bed, a strange rumbling noise came into her ears...like a far off truck without a muffler.
Turning again to face the lakes the rumbling sound became louder, very slowly at first and almost imperceptible. She stood there next to Jack, frozen...waiting. A faint trumpet sound emanated through the rumbling from everywhere around. What seemed like 10 minutes passed and the sound remained, along with the rain. Jack never moved a muscle he just stood there in the stillness surrounded by this odd sound. Petey joined them and the three of them just stood - out in the darkness, listening.
Her mind whirled with reason...
“It’s just a truck, or a jet flying overhead. Maybe someone started a generator” she thought. Whatever it was, it was out there and the warm safety of her bed seemed very welcoming. She went back to bed leaving Petey and Jack standing on the dark porch.
The morning sun comes directly through the East facing sun room windows and wakes her at its first light. She loved watching the sun rise through the almost mystical view from her bed.