Stone Age (8 page)

Prime Numbers

6:50 A.M.

Clear Lake, Michigan

“Prime numbers,” Steve Parkington yelled to the morning.   This revelation hit him while thinking about yesterday when his little nephew delighted in the act of squishing bugs in front of his sister, attempting without much effort to generate shrieks out of her, just as Steve used to do when he was a kid during the plague of cicadas. 

“Why didn’t I think of it the first time?” he chided himself. 
The key is all around you
, the message said.  He reasoned that the cicada had two known life cycles, 13 or 17 years.  Both were prime numbers.  The prime numbers listed on the final screen went all the way to 3301 and the cicada’s life cycle all pointed to some sequence of prime numbers.

Steve turned off the boat’s engine, and in one fluid motion, hopped onto his parent’s dock, while holding the mooring line.  He pulled the boat to the dock and then tied it off, quickly and precisely.  His mind and body were a buzz of excitement from both figuring out the answer to the puzzle and seeing Darla King.  She looked great, sitting in the lounge chair sipping her coffee.  He couldn’t wait to meet her again, tonight.

They played as kids so long ago.  He was secretly in love with her then, but she was so popular and beautiful, and he was still in his nerdy phase, with glasses and unkempt hair and clothes.  Then, a couple of days ago, his father told him she might be at the barbeque.   He looked her up in Facebook, surprised at how the years had turned her into such a beautiful woman.  But he didn’t friend her, although he couldn’t at this moment remember why.  He would cross those bridges tonight, but now it was the cicada and he had to share it with his father.

He stopped his jog at the patio door and then walked briskly to his father’s study to find the man who shared not only his genes, but also his interest in puzzles.  Together, since finding the clues, they tried to figure out together what it all meant and where it would lead. 

Steve opened the office door, and found his father sitting behind the same desk that Steve was at two days ago, trying to crack the cicada code.  The largest of the five screens had a map with a virtual pin on it.  His father was grabbing what appeared to be a color printout of the same map. 

He turned to the door where his son was standing. “Hi, just the man I wanted to see.  We solved it, Son.”

Steve was eager to hear, but also disappointed at the same time, knowing his father just figured it out too.

“It’s GPS coordinates somewhere near Boulder, Colorado.” John said, handing the printout to his son.  “It was the cicada that pointed to the prime numbers –”

“I know the life cycle of 13 and 17 years.  That’s why I came in here, cause I just got it,” Steve said, while looking up from the map.

“Yes,” John picked up, “I was looking at the prime numbers and the other cyphers you figured out.  They pointed to
specific GPS coordinates, which when entered, gave us this location.”

“But, what’s there?”  Steve asked the obvious.

“I have no idea.  You want to go find out?”

“Duh.  When do we leave?”

“I have a little business first,” John paused, “but then we’ll take the Cessna early tomorrow evening to Denver and then a rental car to these coordinates.”  He made an exclamation point with his finger, jabbing onto to the pin of the map he had printed.  “What do you think, sound like a great adventure doesn’t it?”

“Dad, that’s awesome.  Great work,” he said without as much enthusiasm as John had hoped.

“Everything okay?  Thought you would be more excited.”  Then it occurred to him, “You’re really looking forward to seeing Darla, aren’t you?”

“Busted,” Steve said, feigning embracement.  “There is a reason why most of your friends call you the smartest man they know.  When can we head over there?”

“Your mother had to go back to work because of some problem at the plant.  Everyone else will be at the dock ready to go at one.”

“Great,” Steve beamed.  He was filled not only with the joy from their mutual accomplishment and the upcoming sense of adventure, but from his eagerness at seeing Darla tonight.

Fireworks

1:20 P.M.

He saw her the moment they pulled alongside the King
’s dock. 

She was radiant, and far more beautiful than he ever remembered.  She wore a red, white, and blue bikini, with a wrap around her waist.  Her hair was long and black, and it sparkled in the afternoon sunlight.  Her smile, punctuated by her pretty red lips, turned into a laugh that she bellowed at two girlfriends facing her. Her voice reached their boat, and flew to him like the beautiful song of a rare bird.  
Wow
, he thought,
she’s gorgeous.

They tied up alongside another boat already docked, but Steve unable to wait any longer, dove into the cool lake water.

Waiting for his head to break the surface, John yelled, “Hang on, Steve, can you grab the cooler?”

“Sorry, I’m coming,” he yelled back from the dock a few moments later. 

Pulling himself out of the water, he realized his suit clung to him somewhat more snugly than he would have wanted.  Tugging on his suit edges, he looked up and saw Darla and her two friends, now quiet, staring right at him.  Feeling flushed, he smiled, quickly turned and walked over to the boat docked to his family’s boat.  His heart raced and his face red, he reached for a large cooler his father handed him.

Darla was beside herself with excitement, ignoring the giddy schoolgirl remarks from her friends, watching him grab a cooler from his father and walk down the dock towards her.  She thought he was cute when she saw him in the boat this morning, but OMG, he turned out to be a major hunk.

She smoothed her wrap, and simultaneously combed back the right side of her hair, pulling it over her right shoulder.  “Do I have anything in my teeth?” She breathed quietly to her friends, who were now ignoring her and watching Steve approach.  They all waited, breathlessly.

“Hi, Darla.  I don’t know if you remember me from years ago.  I’m Steve,” he said with a slightly nervous voice, making eye contact with her.

“Hi, Steve,” she said playfully. “How could I forget?  You saved my dignity when we were kids and my top came off when we were diving off this very dock.  Your friend Robbie Benson wouldn’t give it back to me, even after I begged him.  You threatened him. It was something about his braces…” she trailed off trying to remember.

“Wasn’t my friend.  I told him I would pull his braces out of his mouth with pliers if he didn’t return your suit.  “No wardrobe malfunctions today, I see.”  He hated himself for saying this, not wanting to sound like he was only interested in her body.  He tried hard not to let his gaze drop from her eyes.

“No, and it looked like I wasn’t the one having trouble with my suit today,” she said playfully.

“Are you here through the fourth?” he asked, wanting desperately to change the subject.

  “No -” she started to reply, a voice behind her interrupting, “Darrrrrr.  Grandpa wants you to go to the store to get something.”

“That’s Danny, my brother.  Ahh, we leave really late tomorrow night.  We’re flying to Rocky Point to meet my mom, dad, and my older sister in Mexico.”  She paused, distracted.  “Sorry, but I have to go run an errand for my grandfather…” she smiled mischievously, “You wanna come?”

Of course, he agreed, after apologies to his dad, who was helping Dar’s grandfather, Fred, with the BBQ duties.  She drove and talked almost the whole way to the Clear Lake Market and back.  She talked about her final year of studies, what she planned to do in the IT field – one more interest they shared, about where she wanted to live, and her family.   They compared their travel plans for tomorrow evening and how their planes might even pass each other in the air, even though Steve and his dad were flying much earlier than she and Danny.  He enjoyed her every word, and felt the time breeze by just listening.  She loved how he listened to her so intently and how he answered her questions with strong confidence.  Before they knew it, the twenty minutes it took for the round trip was over.

Later, after each made rounds with their mutual friends, swam, and ate with their respective families, long after the sun had set, Steve and Darla ended up in two Adirondack chairs, next to each other.  Their conversation picked up where they had left off and continued non-stop, pausing only to listen and sip on a cold beer. They were completely captivated by each other’s words.

“What time do the firew…whoa, look at that.  That looks like an aurora,” Steve pointed at the northern sky, about where the fireworks should be discharging at any moment.

Two wispy shimmering green clouds slowly snaked along the horizon moving towards them and to the west.

“Yeah, you’re right.  I saw an aurora during an Alaskan cruise with my family many years ago.  I thought you could only see those in Alaska or the North Pole,” she said, face pointed more towards him now.

At any other time, the auroras would have been ominous to both of them, but a larger force was at work.

The green light from the aurora illuminated her face, lifting the veil of darkness which had covered them both for the past few minutes.   She had an expectant smile, which was even more alluring because of the green vaporous radiance above.  He could not restrain his feelings for her any longer.  Leaning closer, he kissed her.

First surprised, then she was fully accepting. 

Slowly, he pulled away.  “I’m sorry, but I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you.”  He sounded repentant, but felt no regret.

She kissed him back.

When the Clear Lake fireworks started, both smiled at each other, not just from the pleasurable kissing they shared, but because they both felt like they were part of an overdone ending to a romantic movie.   Wanting more, they kissed each other again.

The foreboding green auroras were lost in the smoke and haze of the fireworks, and any concerns about them were lost in the fog of their kissing and newfound love.

Worrying

7:20 P.M.

Rocky Point, Mexico

As Max finished unloading his supplies in the warehouse, carefully stacking them in their allotted areas, he was lost in thought considering if he forgot anything.  He felt like he had done just about everything he could to provide for their survival of what he knew was perhaps coming as early as today.

He just wished he could do something for all the others.  So many would die from what was about to happen.  Not right away, but in months from now.  Mexico would be a little better off than the US, but even this generation of Mexicans was more and more like their American counterparts, relying on supplies and services that were delivered just-in-time.  This method of delivery of goods and services was very efficient in a diverse, global economic world with lots of technology.  However, it meant when the delivery systems stopped, people on average only had a week’s worth of food, and even less water.

When the panic starts, not at first, but in a few weeks, fueled by a realization that help is
not
on the way and their fear and pangs of hunger take over, then it would get really ugly.  Neighborly love and friendship would be replaced with survival, not only for self, but also for one’s family.  However, what really caused Max to lose sleep lately is the result of when weeks turn into months.  That’s when the mass death would occur.  What life wasn’t taken by disease, which would be rampant, would be lost when neighbors killed neighbors for a few morsels of food, or even one drink of water.  Then there would be the gangs.  Human nature included the ability to commit deplorable acts against one another.  Those wired with one too many Y chromosomes or with a few extra brain cells and a Napoleonic complex would assemble like-minded miscreants, who together would rape, murder, and take from others.

He dreaded those days, which he knew were as inevitable as each day’s sunrise and sunset.  What would
he and his friends become when he/they took lives to protect their own?  Would they become the cold-blooded murderers he reviled?  Would they eventually forget their humanity and their love for others, being only concerned for their survival at all costs?

He believed that these concerns separated him from the
extreme survivalist, who desires the apocalypse, drawn by a longing for a license to murder with impunity and embracing the accompanying loneliness that would follow civilization’s downfall.  Like most preppers, Max prepared so that he and those whom he cared for could survive.

He wanted no part of the coming apocalypse.   Nevertheless, whether he wanted it or not, he was ready for it. 

“Done,” he said out loud.

Max would have loved to sleep now.  He desperately needed it, having only had a few hours of sleep the last few days of long driving and lots of physical exertion.  He was exhausted, but the Kings’ party was minutes away, and as exhausted as he felt, he made a promise.   Much more,
living with so many worries, he needed the mental diversion and to be with his friends.

He exited from the front door to keep up appearances, just in case someone might be watching.  After locking up the
beach warehouse
, he stopped and stood on the street, looking with admiration at his years of work and some of his finest preparations.  He was sure no one could tell that this home was any different from any of the others on this block.  He had a lot pride in the planning, its design, and the workmanship that went into this house.  However, worries always filled his mind with doubt, and an overriding need to be careful.  So, even though he had conducted this exercise what seemed like a thousand times, he once again scrutinized the house objectively, making sure there were no breaches in his security and that no one could see the secrets within.  No, he was sure. 
It looked damned good
. 

He started walking toward his beach home, but then another sensation stopped him cold.  He felt as if someone was watching him.  He hesitated and then turned around, facing the beach warehouse once more.  His prideful smile now erased, he started to look around the street and then to other houses.  He was probably just being paranoid and was just second-guessing himself, but his life and the life of the Kings depended on his being careful.  He searched for something out of place, or someone who didn’t belong.   There were two different trucks he didn’t recognized parked near the beginning of their block, but that was not uncommon with so many visitors to this place and a
couple of houses being rented to people he didn’t know.  Out the corner of his eye, he sensed some movement at Feinstein’s bedroom window, but immediately dismissed this as well.  There was no one there.  He was tired.  The movement was in his mind.

He turned and walked through his beach house gates and into his home to clean up and relax a little.  It was time to celebrate his preparedness.  After this, he believed they might never again have reason to celebrate.  He was right.