Portent (37 page)

    'Shouldn't we get back to Hazelrod as quickly as possible?'

    'It won't take long, Diane.'

    She didn't argue: if the Dream Man was to be believed, then the environment was about to go through-no, according to that morning's newspaper, it was already happening-a massive upheaval, and it would have been selfish of her to persuade Rivers not to at least warn someone in authority first. Rivers, of course, was right-he'd be considered insane; but at least he would have done something to warn them. Perhaps they would soon begin to believe him when things really got out of control. She took a long swallow of her drink and still, in a comer of her mind, a tiny doubt nagged at her. It was all so fantastic, so incredible. Maybe both the Dream Man and Rivers were consumed with some kind of divine madness, and maybe she was catching it too! Oh God, she silently prayed, let that be the truth of it.

    Rivers recognized her fears, as well as her doubts, and he spoke quietly to her, talking of things other than the danger the world was facing, whispering feelings he had not expressed to another for a long, long time; and Diane responded, reaching for his hand, entwining her fingers in his, revealing her own concerns for the children and eventually, her growing affection for Rivers himself. Perhaps it was the circumstances they found themselves in that had drawn them together so swiftly; or perhaps the attraction would have been there anyway. Either way, it didn't matter, for it had happened, there was a bond between them and only time could test its strength. If there was to be any time for them.

    She became aware that Josh had moved when his feet brushed against her thigh. She turned to find her son had freed himself from his seat-belt and was kneeling in the seat so that he had a better view out the window.

    'What is it, Josh?' she said, sensing something was wrong and moving over to him. Rivers leaned forward too, curious to discover what had shaken the boy from his lethargy.

    Josh did not reply and Diane released her own seat-belt so that she could look over his shoulder and find out what interested him so. She drew in a sharp breath and instinctively put her arms around him.

    The Airbus had just passed over what had once been known as the Humber Lowlands, most of which was now under the sea, and was now beginning its descent approach to Gatwick somewhere over the flooded regions of East Anglia. Although the sky was still filled with turbulent clouds, there were clear breaks through which Diane could see the floodlands and new coastline below. Rising from them was a small but clearly defined pinpoint of light.

    At first she thought it might be sunlight reflecting on the water itself, or perhaps from glass on a boat deck, but she soon realized that the light was way above sea level and the sun was concealed by thick overhead layers of clouds anyway. And there was no doubt that this small ball of light was moving steadily upwards.

    'Jim,' she said urgently. 'I think…'

    Rivers was already on his feet and leaning forward. She moved aside a little to give him room.

    'Is it an aureole again?' she asked hopefully. 'Like the one we saw on our journey up.'

    It took a second or two for him to answer. 'No,' he replied, 'not this time. It's a warning. Oh Jesus…'

    Diane pressed close to the window again, for Rivers was now looking in another direction. She saw a further light to the north of the first.

    Passengers in the seats behind them had noticed their concern and were peering out their own windows. As surprised murmurs rose up, yet others followed suit and it wasn't long before even the cabin staff were leaning across seats to watch the strange lights that by now were performing a weird ballet together in the sky.

    'Mama.' Josh was pointing at the water below the dancing lights.

    It was still a long way down, even though the plane had begun its descent, and the area was gradually being left behind, but Diane and Rivers could plainly see a point in the water below bubbling white foam. At once the surface erupted and, because their angle had changed as the Airbus travelled onwards, they saw what looked like a huge fountain shoot into the sky.

    Although it appeared small to them, both Rivers and Diane realized the jet must have been hundreds of feet high to be so visible.

    

    

    
Above San Francisco Bay

    They had emerged from their homes to watch the strange lights that danced over the wooded hillsides, one neighbour alerting another that there appeared to be UFOs in the night sky. And the bright little lights had put on a dazzling display for them, skimming over the treetops like pearly fireflies, rising high into the air, then swooping gracefully to loop around each other like alien extras in an old Spielberg movie. Sometimes it seemed that they would collide, so fast and so set was their trajectory, but they would avert course at the last moment, leaving the observers below to gasp, then whoop with glee. The lights spread as they passed over Oakland, Berkeley and Piedmont. Students of Berkeley's University of California were provided with an extra attraction as they left their summer prom, the music long since over, but the loitering afterwards still in full swing. They stood around in groups, the girls wrapping their date's arms or jackets around their shoulders against the strong winds that blew in from the bay, watching the weird and exciting phenomenon with either cries or murmurs of amazement, depending on how deep was the effect on them.

    Many of the residents of these areas watched from the balconies or patios of their luxury homes and, indeed, they were afforded a fine view. Others, like Fire Lieutenant Antonio Degrazza watched from less flourishing quarters and with much more apprehension, for he knew that five months of continuous drought had left the surrounding woodlands tinder-dry. The lights-there appeared to be at least sixteen of them-were beautiful to watch, but he distrusted them for their fulgent glow. If they were hot, if they should spark…

    He had gone back inside to phone his chief and voice his concern when the lights did precisely as he feared.

    Their aerial ballet ceased and each glowing orb hovered twenty or thirty feet above the treetops, dispersed there in the night like twinkling stars, a heart-lifting sight that at last rendered the onlookers silent. Then they dropped, the paths of each directed to one spot a foot above the highest tree.

    When they converged-for this time they did not veer from their chosen course-they exploded in a blinding shower of sparks.

    The leaves and branches below ignited instantly as if the trees themselves had long awaited this fiery touch. The flames whoomphed into life and, urged on by the winds, spread through the dry timbers, ripening into a living thing that sucked in the dark air and devoured its own host.

    The fire became a rolling inferno and the residents of Hiller Highlands fled before its fury, taking little with them, for to delay was to bum alongside everything they owned. It swept through the homes that lined the hills and canyons of Oakland, becoming a monstrous conflagration, a napalm nightmare, that moved down into the seaport itself. The heat was so intense that water mains shattered, towers bearing high-voltage power cables melted, and propane tanks and electricity transformers exploded. Pumping stations soon failed and the emergency planning coordinator wasted no time in calling a squadron of air tankers and water-dropping helicopters, but all to no avail. The fire was too immense, and it was too powerful.

    It hurried towards the sea, a rampant beast that destroyed everything in its path and filled the sky with churning black clouds that obliterated both the natural and the false stars.

    

    

    They stood on the beach and watched with amazement the single light that hovered over the fishing boats, the distant bad weather providing an ominously dark backdrop which emphasized its brightness. The little light, with its subtle purplish corona, seemed to gleam a pureness that was dazzling to the eye, and the people wondered at its serene stillness. Not even the stiff breeze that came off the ocean could stir the light from its position ten metres or so above the boats that had gathered beneath it.

    Some of the sturdier boys on the beach swam out to cling to the fishing boats so they had a better view. They called out along with the fishermen and gesticulated for the wondrous glowing sphere to descend into their boats so that they could take it back to the shore where they might pay proper and due homage. But the divine light paid them no heed.

    Word swept rapidly through what had once been a small fishing town but which was now a bustling resort and residents and tourists alike left the coolness of the buildings to hurry down to the quaysides and beaches to witness this curious phenomenon for themselves. The evening took on an almost festive air and officials and photographers were sent for so that this unearthly event could be properly documented. The world would soon hear of the miracle of Cox's Bazar.

    A street hawker among the spectators, who had been deaf for half his lifetime, suddenly claimed he could hear, while another, this one a rickshaw-puller whose livelihood had been ruined by crippling arthritis fell to his knees in the sand and weepingly blessed the light for releasing him from the pain that had plagued him for so long. Women among the crowd fainted; a father carried his sick child to the water's edge and pleaded with the light to eradicate the cancerous blood cells from his dying daughter's emaciated body; further along the shore a holy man who denounced the light as a devil's evil eye was castigated by those around him when his rantings became too vociferous.

    All chatter, all motion, and all prayer ceased when other lights surfaced and slowly rose to the height of the first light. At least twenty metres apart, the same distance from the shoreline, they spread along the eastern side of the Bay of Bengal for as far as the eye could see. It was almost as if they had been pulled up by a single and endless invisible thread so uniform was their ascent, and now they hung there like the well-spaced fairylights that adorned the city streets in times of celebration.

    After the initial shock a great chanting broke out among the crowds. Some, particularly the children, clapped their hands in delight, while others stepped back in awe. Still more rushed into the sea where they fell to their knees or waded further out to offer up their arms in supplication. The more cautious hastened back to their abodes and locked the doors behind them. Many of the tourists busied themselves photographing the phenomenon.

    Neither the jubilation nor the adoration lasted long.

    The breeze abruptly transformed into a wind that tugged at their hair and clothing, and a great shout went up when the huge wave approaching from the ocean behind the extended row of lights was noticed. And emerging from the blackness beyond the wave itself was a sight all too familiar to the people who lived along the coasts and the islands of Bangladesh. The swirling white tower of vapour and water rushed towards them with incredible predatory speed (at almost 200 miles an hour, it was later calculated).

    The crowds lost all interest in the 'miraculous' lights and fled inland, making for their homes or hotels, the wisest of them fleeing further with the hopes of reaching the sparse high ground.

    The preceding tidal surge gathered up the swimmers and the frail fishing boats and swept them on to the land to be smashed against resisting trees and buildings. The cyclone, itself, swiftly followed.

    

    

    It was as if the night had lost patience with the setting sun, for the land was in gloom even though the day was not yet over. The thick, angry clouds from the mountain cast their shadow everywhere and dust muted the natural colours of vegetation, buildings, vehicles and even animals within a radius of a hundred miles. In Manila, fifty-five miles away from Mount Pinatubo, the people who had ignored the Philippine Institution of Volcanology and Seismology's warning to vacate the city watched the great mantle of smoke with considerable trepidation; tremors had shaken the buildings two days earlier and more were expected to follow. High winds and torrential rain had compounded the fear as well as the damage, but such alarmism could not be allowed to intimidate commerce. Then came the rumour that more than 30,000 Filipino Aeta tribesmen had fled their homeland by the old volcano because a shining omen had been seen above the rim just before smoke and ash had belched forth. While the more sophisticated businessmen of the capital dismissed such primitive superstitions, many of them arranged for their families to spend some time with friends or relations further south or even on one of the other islands. Sensibly (even though these kinds of superstitions had even less effect on them), the Americans were already evacuating Clark Base, headquarters of the US 13th Air Force some fifty-five miles north-west of Manila, and the Subic Bay naval base near Olongapo on the coast. The unease was widespread, the simmering sense of panic barely controlled.

    But tribal farmer Micker Ramos ignored all such hysteria and continued to tend his crops at the very foot of the volcano. The rich soil here had served him well over the decades even though he had been forced to flee at the last moment more than once in his lifetime. Damage could often be severe, but always the cycle of replenishment continued. It was true that his family had gone, his two girls and one boy taken by a wife who could no longer suffer the strain of living under this mounting threat. They had both seen the star hovering just above the volcano's lip before the earth had grumbled and black sulphur fumes had obscured it, and he had told her that it was a good sign, a holy sign, and that such a thing of radiant beauty could only be a symbol of hope and good fortune. Nevertheless, while he celebrated, she had left, and with her the children and his prize pig. How he would miss that pig.