The Zul Enigma (60 page)

The thought of holding
her in my arms is the only thing that makes me smile. When I think of Carlos,
all I do is worry.

My big news is I’ve decided to continue researching Zul and when I’m not
avoiding journalists, this is what I do. I put in so much work last year, it
seems wrong to give up now. I no longer believe for a moment Zul is what he
said – I’m not sure I ever really did – but I do know whoever
is
behind Zul won’t want to be found. So I need to be very, very careful.

But the world has a
right to know who committed such an unspeakable act, and I intend doing
everything in my power to expose them.

Friday 4th January 2013

I’m discovering that, like many others, after the initial horrific shock I have
a strong need to try and adjust to the new world and this first week of the New
Year seems as good a time to start as any. Those of us left are realising we
have to face up to what happened, we have to get on with life and the sooner we
do it the better. We have to – otherwise we will all go mad. And there’s
so much to be done to keep the world functioning.

I speak to Greg now and
then. I always liked him and I don’t want to lose his friendship. I told him
how hurt Carlos was, thinking Greg had pushed him away. Greg said he hadn’t
meant to upset Carlos and that he’d never thought he was behind Zul.

Greg is a good man. He
has a lot to carry on his big shoulders right now.

Still no one knows who’s
behind the massacre, although Greg has backed up what Carlos told me and what
I’ve read, that tests conducted on a random sampling of victims taken from
every country in the world confirm they were all infected with the same new
virus which, when triggered, became instantaneously lethal. But a lot more
research needs to be done before chemists can discover how the virus was
distributed and how it was triggered in everyone simultaneously. It’s even
possible this information will never be determined. Also, since chemists have
yet to find the virus in a pre-trigger state, they can’t say for certain
whether or not it was genetically engineered.

I learned from Greg that
when he first realised there was no evolution to fourth density… that the
bodies were those of the poor… his top priority was to rally functioning
countries to volunteer air forces, navies, armies and equipment, everything
they could spare, to assist the places worst hit in Africa, Asia, the Middle
East and South America. It’s a very emotive issue, however, since there aren’t
sufficient resources to send help everywhere it’s needed and the job of
prioritising, Greg told me, is a heart-rending one.

To try and minimise the
impact on those countries, he’s also working with the GCG and corporate bosses,
drafting emergency industry support plans and devising strategies to keep the
global economic and financial sectors afloat. With the decimation of the
populations of so many undeveloped countries, and with developed countries
losing an estimated tenth, or more, of their populations, this is a huge chore,
but he says the support is mind-blowing and he’s amazed by the progress they’ve
already made.

I feel sorry for the
people working in the forces – those sent into the thick of it to clean
up both urban and rural areas. What a gruelling task – gathering up
decomposing bodies to incinerate. And what about the survivors in those places.
The risk of disease and harmful effects of polluted drinking water is huge. It
looks like the worst hit cities may have to be evacuated.

And once again, the
brutal reality of what’s happened explodes in my mind. All the poorest people
round the globe have been eradicated. And the number they made up is shocking.
Estimates say six billion… that’s eighty-five per cent of our global
population. I hang my head in shame because I never truly grasped how
disgustingly privileged I’ve been all my life, until now.

But here’s the
sickening, disgusting thing. In spite of such overwhelming loss of life,
because there was none in the middle and higher echelons of industry, the
impact on the machinery of business and finance will be negligible. Of course,
it’ll cost money and manpower to clean up the remains and we’ll have to work
out ways to fill the gap left by losing all the low-income workers, but apart
from that, those people’s deaths will have very little affect on the way the
world works.

The message is clear.
The possession of greatest worth on this planet is wealth.

And all of a sudden, my
urge to assimilate into a world where the entire strata of underprivileged
people has been erased, is dashed when I realise that we survivors are in
danger of losing our humanity. Who will we care for now.

Sunday 27th January 2013

After four weeks, I visited Carlos for the first time yesterday. It was so good
to see him. He looks well and at first seemed pretty upbeat.

It was all very
spy-movieish. I was driven to the car park at Vañkovka Gallery in Brno where I
was transferred to another car, blindfolded and driven around for two hours.
After we stopped, the driver led me up to a house and knocked on the door. I
was taken inside and when I took off the blindfold… there was Carlos.

We cried on seeing each
other. He told me how well I looked and that he couldn’t believe how big my
tummy had grown. I gave him the books and magazines, and treats and the
Brazilian coffee I’d brought him – I don’t know how much longer we’ll be
able to get that in Vienna – and we curled up on the couch together to
talk.

To see his face, to hear
his voice, to feel the sensation of his lips on my lips and his heart beating
against my breast, all these things made me the happiest I’ve been since the
night of our last dinner at La Lucciola. In earlier times they were commonplace
pleasures, but today they are beautiful blessings to be cherished.

Carlos doesn’t live at
this house, he told me. They’d brought him there earlier from another secret
place where, he said, he was well looked after and the food was good, if
simple. He has access to a small library and a computer, but no Internet. He
looked well and rested and has lost the awful haggard appearance he had before.
I think he’s put back on a bit of the weight he lost before he left Vienna.

He asked about his
family, with whom I keep in touch, and I explained how the media attention had
forced them into hiding at a remote farm near Estepa in Andalucia. I also told
him about my mum and dad and my sister and her husband, who are also hiding
from the press. He asked about Greg. About Drew and Erika. About Corrinne. And
about Joseph. I told him that although Drew talks to Joseph, I haven’t spoken
to him since our dinner together and we laughed about him telling jokes that
night, which was so out of character.

With no Internet access,
Carlos gets his news from radio and the TV. He’s heard about the vocal group
that doesn’t believe humans engineered the virus. This group is split into two
factions, one that disregards the coincidence of the virus striking on the
precise date Zul predicted, putting it down to a catastrophic natural
phenomenon and another that claims Zul is real and believes aliens are using us
and our planet in an experiment.

We talked about these
theories, clinging on to them like life rafts, because if one of them
were
true it would prove Carlos’s innocence. But eventually he confessed that since
he’s been in hiding he, too, has reached the conclusion that Zul is human, and
the underlying depression that had lifted when we first saw each other surged
back.

Then he told me he has
never felt as down as he does now. Not even when he was in hospital last year.

We talked about the
Emergency Session of the UN General Assembly held in the New Year, some of
which was televised, and we cried together remembering what a wretched and
somber occasion it was. How Greg held himself together through the meeting, we
have no idea.

The Assembly agreed that
the United Nations Security Council, the UN organ charged with maintenance of
international peace and security, should have the responsibility of looking
into events leading up to the global holocaust. The Security Council then
called its own Emergency Session to focus on developing guidelines as to how
the inquiry should be structured.

Members unanimously
agreed to establish an International Criminal Tribunal to investigate the
global massacre. The Tribunal immediately petitioned copies of the reports NASA
and the National Intelligence agency drew up last year, as well as copies of
the messages and holovideos plus transcripts of all relevant meetings conducted
at the UN and the White House, and we can only hope it will somehow expose the
truth.

But it doesn’t help that
every couple of weeks or so Carlos’s name is plastered all over the press. Like
it was last Tuesday. “GONE TO GROUND” the headlines announced in huge letters.

He’s worried about my
safety too, so I was happy to tell him what a gem Greg’s been. That he got me
an unlisted number and has provided me with protection round the clock.

I’m not sure whether to
tell him about my own plan to continue investigating Zul, because I’m scared
he’ll tell me to stop… so I decide not to say a word. Not yet.

And then he told me the best news I’d heard in an age, that we could spend the
night there together. I hadn’t dared contemplate that possibility and it made
me cry again.

Monday 11th March 2013

I feel so low.

Vienna, traditionally a
city with so much to offer year-round, has lost its vibrancy. As a mark of
respect for the billions of dead, the colourful Christmas decorations and
sparkling lights were taken down last year and all the festive markets and
balls were cancelled. None of the skating rinks have a single blade mark on
them. Like everywhere else, it’s still a city in mourning.

I try to rev myself up,
to get enthused about cooking a meal for Erika, Drew and the boys for instance,
or going shopping for the baby, or doing more research to find who’s behind
Zul, but it’s so hard to get motivated. Most days when I finish breakfast I
sink onto the couch and still find myself sitting there when it’s dark and time
to go to bed, my former resolve forgotten.

I worry about Carlos.
Constantly. Two and a half months and he’s still in hiding because he’s still
in danger. By now only a few New Age fanatics continue to believe Zul is real
and the others, the vast majority, are baying for someone’s blood… most of them
for Carlos’s.

The Tribunal’s called in
several people to give evidence, including Carlos, who was granted in-camera
status as a result of the death threats. He said they quizzed him for hours
about the overpopulation of the planet, a view he’d expressed publicly on many
occasions, but it hasn’t yet made any indictment and who knows what conclusion it
will come to.

And all the time my
head’s buzzing, trying to get to the bottom of it all. But I’m not getting
anywhere. So earlier I decided to set out my thoughts in writing to see if that
would help.

The key, I was positive, has something to do with space, and I began thinking
back to last year when I was researching my idea that the US military was
behind Anderson’s death, and I dug out the notes I made about space ownership.

Full-spectrum dominance
is a strategic intent that has already been adopted by the US military and
unless challenged, space ownership will naturally follow. Space ownership is
when a military structure has control of all space, maritime, air and land
based assets across the whole spectrum of battlespace, including control of
information, which is where DARPA’s brain-to-brain communication project
“Silent Talk” fits in.

Of course, space
ownership is an extremely attractive status to achieve, since the nation that
“owns” space will control the world and considering the US military’s disclosure
that it’s pursuing a doctrine of full-spectrum dominance, it’s highly likely
there’s a faction pushing in the space ownership direction. And I wondered if
this group could be behind Zul. It certainly would not have welcomed the amount
of public attention Anderson would have stirred up by reallocating NASA’s
budget to DARPA.

And then another thought
struck me. Because of his passion in pushing OOSA’s mission to promote
international cooperation in the
peaceful
use of outer space, Carlos
wasn’t just a threat to Anderson, he was a threat to the US military too.
Perhaps in addition to silencing Anderson, getting Carlos out of OOSA was
another objective of the plan.

But the plan was also to
wipe out eighty-five per cent of the entire world’s population. All the poor.
Something extraordinarily crucial must have been behind that decision. So I
thought about how the group would have benefitted by this disgusting
extermination.

For the first time since
the tragedy, I tried to look past the current mayhem and global suffering
towards the future, and realised that all the previously powerful countries
like the USA and others in Western Europe that had the least poverty would
recover far more quickly than those with high poverty levels. I also realised
that many of the worst affected countries were ones that the USA and the West
had felt threatened by, or had been at war with. That was enlightening, as was
the fact that Islam had been dealt a devastating blow, since the global Muslim
population had been reduced by half. But I couldn’t believe these reasons alone
pushed the group into murdering over six billion people… which included 120
million of their own. There had to be more to it, surely.