GRN RMY

BOOK ONE

LET MY ARMIES BE THE ROCKS AND THE TREES

AND THE BIRDS IN THE SKY.

CHARLEMAGNE

PROLOGUE

Helen Summers sat there on the other side of Ray Carson’s desk looking like a million bucks. But in reality, there would be no money changing hands today. On her lap sat Sampras, Ray’s dog, who had taken a liking to her.

“So what’s your budget for this ad campaign?” Ray asked.

Helen ran a non-profit organization out to preserve a scenic stretch of trail between the Hamptons and Montauk that was used by runners, hikers and bikers. The local power company intended to cut down the trees along the trail and put steel towers and overhead powerlines in their place. Save The Trail had other intentions.

“We don’t have a budget.”

“Don’t have as in undefined? Or non-existent?”

“It is a good cause, wouldn’t you agree Mr. Carson?”

Ray couldn’t get used to this 30-something calling him mister.

“Please, call me Ray.”

“And call me crazy,” Helen continued, “but after pouring your heart and soul into this for the last 8 months you’re not going to call it quits are you? You like to run on that trail, don’t you?”

She was good. Ray and his partner Farley had created the Save The Trail logo and designed the website for the group. But he wasn’t sure that Alchemy, their 3-year old ad agency, could survive another pro-bono project. The phone rang. Saved by the bell.

“Alchemy,” Ray said into the receiver.

“Ray, it’s Farley. I’m going to be a little late today.”

Ray glanced at his watch. It was nearly 4pm. “Perhaps you’re turning Japanese. It’s only 5am there.”

“I broke my finger.”

“Hitting the snooze button too hard?”

“Trying to get the last olive out of a bottle.”

“I told you not to shove it in that far.”

Helen sat there hearing only one side of the conversation and started shaking her head.

Ray threw some fuel on the fire. “You didn’t lose a fingernail in the process, did you Far?”

That was enough for Helen who stood to leave but not without a parting shot.

“Maybe you should go over to your partner’s house and do some spelunking.”

“Helen, don’t go,” Ray said.

“I’ve got a meeting with Mayor Haven.”

“Haven can wait.”

“Ha ha. Very clever. Always a pleasure Mister Carson.”

“It’s all mine, Miss Summers, all mine.”

She made for the door, and Ray made nice.

“I’ll think about the ad campaign,” he promised.

She said goodbye to Sampras and blew Ray a kiss on her way out.

Farley cursed on the other end of the line at the thought of more work for no money.

Ray hung up on him and gazed longingly at the door.

A moment later it opened, and Helen popped her head back in. “Just got a text from Haven who had to cancel. Can I buy you a drink?”

“Does the pope poop in the Vatican?”

They walked out of Alchemy and crossed the street heading for the local watering hole known as Atlantis. A bus passed by, belching dark clouds of diesel exhaust.

“Don’t breathe,” Helen said.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Ray said, pulling out a pack of smokes. He had a cigarette lit before the exhaust cleared.

“I don’t understand how you can be a runner and smoke.”

“The way I look at it, how can you smoke and not run?”

“You have some way of twisting logic Ray Carson,” said Helen, twisting her finger near her temple and looking at him cross-eyed.

With that, they entered Atlantis.

The maitre d’ approached them with a smile. “Table for two Mr. Carson?”

“Not tonight Antonio, I think we’ll just head to the bar. Busy?”

“Always. But never too busy for you.”

Helen whispered in Ray’s ear, “I think he likes you.”

“Threesome?” he whispered back.

“Oh, you are evil.”

Ray ordered a mojito for Helen and a Coke for himself.

“Hitting the hard stuff, eh?” she asked.

“I’m going to run later. Got a lot to think about.”

“Saving the world?”


“Well, the way I see it, this trail issue is the tip of the polar ice cap. Think of all the growth here. All those people need power to fire up their big screen TVs, charge their cellphones and cook their geese.”

“Yeah, but do we actually need to pave paradise in the process?”

“Spoken like a true Counting Crows fan.”

“I’ve always preferred Joni Mitchell’s original.”

“Is that so? There’s hope for you yet.”

“You’re so romantic, Ray. Almost makes me want to flag down a big yellow taxi to take us to my place.”

“Would that involve rolling in any hay?”

“Only if you get out your pitchfork.”

“Now who’s the devil?”

Outside, the world grew a little hotter.

CHAPTER ONE

IF YOU GOT WIND OF HIS RELENTLESS PACE, YOU’D THINK RAY CARSON WAS RUNNING AWAY FROM SOMETHING. TRUTH WAS, HE WAS RUNNING TOWARD SOMETHING, ONLY WHAT IT WAS HE HAD NO IDEA.

Lightning often struck Ray Carson on the running trail. He conjured up ads, wrote songs and dreamed up inventions while rocketing down his favorite path through the woods. Ray liked to think it was the fresh oxygen coursing through his blood that fed his inspiration.

“After all, the word ‘inspire’ does mean ‘to breathe,’” he said to his running companion, a small tri-colored cavalier spaniel. Sampras looked up at Ray with her goofy tongue-hanging-out-of-her-mouth smile.

As they ran down the tree-lined trail, Ray captured his thoughts by dictating into his iPhone. When he wasn’t dictating, he listened to music. Right now, Mary J. Blige and Bono were belting out One.

“Is it getting better?” Bono sang, and Ray thought, No, it’s not getting better if we let them cut down all these trees. Their leaves formed a canopy above him.

Ray thought about how the local power company planned to clearcut the trail so that they could build towers connected by overhead powerlines. Seemed like a crime, wiping out 25,000 trees. One he felt compelled to put a halt to. Or was he just smitten with Helen?

“Did I disappoint you?” Mary J. sang, and Ray felt her voice echo through him with adrenaline reverberations that propelled him forward.

“How do I not disappoint Helen?” Ray wondered.

On the trunk of a large tree alongside the path Ray saw an engraving of a heart over the word LOVE. “You won’t find the same four-letter sentiment etched on a 100-foot steel tower,” he said into the phone.

“One love,” Bono and Mary J. sang.

He ran down the pristine trail toward the power station that was the root of the problem. It marked the current end of the march of power eastward toward Montauk.

“One life, you’ve got to do what you should,” Rays earbuds refrained.

If the power company got its way, the remaining scenic miles of the trail would be decimated.

“We can’t let that happen, Sampras,” Ray said to his mutt.

The cicadas serenaded Ray and Sampras with their staccato rhythm section until the power station appeared, and the natural music of the insects was replaced by the incessant synthetic hum of the electrical lines overhead.

A faint but distinct odor of PCBs permeated the charged atmosphere. It was soon replaced by the scent of rain falling on warm pavement.

“I love running through the rain,” Ray said to Sampras, but his dog wasn’t listening. Sampras began to growl.

“What is it, Sampras?” Ray asked. He saw the severed powerline swinging towards him too late. Before he could change his course, the cable struck him, sending a paralyzing shock through his body. As the electricity surged through him, the last thing to run through Ray’s mind before he died was the title of Walt Whitman’s poem I Sing The Body Electric.

A dark figure emerged from the neighboring woods. He wore thick rubber gloves and a dark uniform with a stylized X on the chest.  Sampras snarled at him as he approached. He kicked the dog, removed a glove and bent over Ray to check his pulse. Finding none, he said, “Good riddance,” and grabbed Sampras saying, “I can probably get a pretty penny for a mutt like you.”

The killer grabbed Sampras and got into a Range Rover parked just off the trail. As they drove off, the weather worsened. The wind picked up, the rain turned cold, and the sky was painted black. Suddenly there was a crack of thunder coinciding with a flash of light and a bolt shot down from the sky bathing the trail in light.

The lightning struck Ray with such force his body levitated over the ground. For a brief moment that contained an eternity, Ray floated like a magician’s subject among a captivated audience of trees before the lightning released him from its grip. As it did, a pulse returned to his body, followed by Ray’s consciousness. His mouth opened before his eyes and emitted a painful scream that soon turned into more of an expression of pleasure as the pain subsided and was replaced by a sense of warmth and awareness the likes of which Ray had never experienced before.

He got to his feet and called for his dog, “Sampras! Sampras!” but there was no sign of him. Off the side of the trail, Ray spotted his iPhone and picked it up. He noticed the record button was still on and thought to himself, I must have turned it on when that cable jolted me.

Curious, he played back the digital recording and listened to the sizzle of the powerline zapping him, the thud of his body falling to the ground, the iPhone following, Sampras growling, then whimpering, and a dark voice saying, “Good riddance,” and “I can probably get a pretty penny for a mutt like you.”

“Sampras,” Ray said sadly, a warm tear streaming down his cheek. He made his way back down the trail with the wind at his back. It pushed him to superhuman speed and the rain parted before him, but Ray didn’t seem to notice.

He was preoccupied with replaying the recording of the man’s voice repeatedly, engraving it in his memory.

CHAPTER TWO

Ray ran back to his office hoping to design a lost dog flyer, but the power was out. Looking out the window, it seemed to be out all over town.

He thought about calling the police, but the prospect of spending the next few hours being grilled about what happened was the last thing he needed. He longed for the comforting embrace of Helen’s arms, and soon found himself at her front door.

“That was quite a run,” she said as she let him in. “How far did you go?”

“Only a few miles. I ran into a little trouble along the way?”

“Tree trouble? I wouldn’t be surprised if this storm knocked down a few. The power went out about an hour ago.”

“Nothing against the trees, but I wish that were the case. One of the powerlines came down and struck me in the chest, knocking me out?”

“What? Are you hurt? Let me take a look at you.”

“I’m fine,” he said, “but Sampras is gone.”

“Whaddya mean gone?”

“Somebody took him. I also think the powerline incident wasn’t accidental.” Ray pulled out his phone and opened the voice memos. “I was recording some thoughts when the cable struck me and found I had recorded this.”

Ray played back the recording as they sat there in Helen’s candlelit cottage.

“Ray, you’ve got to go to the police,” she said. “And the emergency room.”

“Can you imagine what a waste of time that would be with the power out? I’ll go in the morning. Right now I just need a little of your TLC.”

“Where did the powerline hit you?”

“Right in the chest.”

Helen peeled his shirt off and gasped. Even in the candlelight she could see the welt on his chest. It seemed to emit a light of its own as it pulsated in synch with Ray’s heartbeat.

“I’ve got some aloe,” she said and went to the kitchen where she snipped a large spiky leaf off the plant and cut it open to harvest its soothing gel.

Helen applied the aloe to the welt on Ray’s chest.

“That feels good,” he said, and leaned in to give her a kiss.

“Does it hurt anywhere else?” she asked.

“All over,” he said before giving her another kiss. Soon they were entangled in each other’s arms and made their way to the bedroom as one.

CHAPTER THREE

When Ray awoke the next morning, he was alone in Helen’s bed.

Making his way into the kitchen, Ray saw a note that Helen left him by the coffeemaker. It read, “Had to catch a flight and didn’t want to wake you. The power came back on while we were asleep, so I made coffee and baked you a cinnamon roll. Get your ass into the police station and ER this morning. I’m off to a Climate Reality conference. Be back next week. Take care of yourself. xoxo Helen.”

Ray poured himself a cup of coffee and parked himself in front of The Today Show while he savored the caffeine-laced brew. A week without Helen. He’d miss her. Ray thought about the prospect of visiting the police station and the hospital. “Double indemnity,” he thought to himself. “And work to be done.”

As Ray drank his coffee and thought about a productive day in the office, Al Roker sounded the alarm that a hurricane was approaching and it would make landfall on Long Island in the next 24 hours. Ray muttered, “Change of plans.” Roker mentioned something about climate change, but Ray wasn’t paying attention.

He picked up his phone and called Farley. It went right to voicemail. Ray left a message.

“Hey Far, can you do me a favor? I’ve got to run out East and secure the house before the hurricane hits land. Can you create a lost dog flyer and post it online and around town? Sampras and I got separated on the trail last night and I haven’t seen him since. Thanks bud, I’ll check in with you later.”

Ray hung up the phone, transferred the remaining coffee to a go-cup and walked back to the office where he’d left his car.

Traffic and the rain were light as he made his way toward Montauk and the property his grandmother had left him when she passed away several years ago. It was a small cottage tucked in the trees on nearly an acre with a view of the Atlantic.

To Ray it was a sanctuary that he fell in love with as a kid. He grew up in Brooklyn and his family would vacation at his grandmother’s in Montauk every summer.  His dad had grown up there and developed a passion for surfing in his youth. Burt passed that love onto his son, teaching him to surf at a young age.

His mom Helen exceled more at mental sports, teaching Ray to read and write and play games. She also taught him that life is short. She died of skin cancer when Ray was 13.

His father went downhill quickly in the wake of his wife’s death, losing his job and a bit of his mind. He was a shadow of his former self except while surfing, where he exhibited a vitality that the rest of his life had abandoned.

The two of them moved in with his grandmother soon after his mom died and spent a good deal of time surfing together. From the cottage it was a short walk down the beach to Ditch Plains, one of the east coast’s best surf spots.

You’d often catch Ray’s dad whistling the Beach Boys’ Surf City or The Trashmen’s Surfing Bird on the walk. On the day he went missing, it was Dick Dale’s Miserlou.

The waves were epic that day, and there was a Coast Guard advisory to stay out of the water. Ray wanted to cut school and get out there with his father, but Burt wouldn’t hear of it.

“The only thing you’re cutting is your hair,” his dad said. “Damn hippie.”

“Burton Carson, do not talk to your son that way,” Ray’s grandmother said walking in on the two of them in the kitchen.

“My son? He looks more like my daughter!” Burt said, running his hand through Ray’s mop.

“Wait for me,” Ray said before heading out the door.

Burt had good intentions on honoring his son’s wish, but after his third cup of coffee and his mother’s persistent questions about his lack of gainful employment, he got tired of staring out the window at the giants breaking just offshore.

He told his mother he’d be back in a couple of hours, grabbed his board and walked down the beach to Ditch Plains. The surf drowned out his whistled rendition of Miserlou.

There was a handful of surfers on the beach watching the giants break offshore, but no one in the water when Burt got to Ditch Plains. He didn’t hesitate, running into the surf with his board tucked under his right arm. The spectators on the beach watched in awe as Burt paddled out toward the big waves and caught the first one he got to. He rode it beautifully, and there was some applause and chatter among the onlookers as he kicked out the back of the wave.

As he paddled back out to where the waves were breaking, Burt could see a giant approaching in the distance. He paddled faster hoping to position himself well for the incoming wave. As it crested, he stood up on his board and seem to float on the crest before descending the huge face of the wave, finding the curl as the giant loomed over him. The small crowd whistled and hooted from the beach. As the wave broke it totally engulfed Burt and you could no longer see him from shore. The onlookers waited for him to emerge from the barrel of the wave.

But they waited in vain. Burt never emerged from the giant.

Ray was in school counting the minutes until classes end when the police appeared and approached his teacher. She called out his name and the police took him into the hall, saying they were sorry, but his father was missing at sea.

They drove Ray to his grandmother’s house, and he lost himself in her embrace and a river of tears.

Burt’s board later washed ashore, but his body was never found. Ray found himself looking for it whenever he stared out to sea in the years that followed.

After going to school at Parson’s, Ray got into the ad business in Manhattan. But he would often escape to his grandmother’s place in Montauk on the weekends. He didn’t hesitate to make it his home after she died, and opened up his own small ad agency in Bridgehampton about a half-hour drive West.

On his way there the rain got heavier, and he made a mental checklist of what he had to secure before the hurricane hit. Ray turned off the main drag onto Surfside Ave and pulled into a narrow driveway to his right. The trees were already bending in the wind of the approaching storm.

The cottage had Ray’s idiosyncratic tendencies on full display. The light fixtures out front were made from seashells he’d picked up during his beach runs. Then there was the weathervane on the roof, a large fish constructed of assorted detritus that had washed up on shore. Its body was made of an old buoy, its dorsal fin was a worn piece of tire and its tail was a decayed rubber glove with holes in the fingers that the wind whistled through.

But the most unusual feature of Ray’s home was the bay window. It was made entirely of sea glass. Green glass made the shape of a giant wave crashing on a brown glass beach under a cobalt blue sky speckled with clouds made of clear glass turned frosty white by years in the roiling sea.

When the sun rose, it would cast a prism of colored light in the main room where an odd assortment of injured sea creatures recuperated in a large aquarium. When Ray was out of town his neighbor Carol, an old friend of his grandmother’s, would look after them.

As he walked into the cottage, he heard a squawk and a voice say, “Where the hell have you been?” followed by another squawk.

His gregarious one-winged parrot Buffett had washed ashore on a piece of driftwood one day. Buffett had an encyclopedic memory and liked to regale Ray with his limitless lexicon. Unfortunately for Ray, much of what Buffett liked to spout out were lines from TV shows and commercials.

“Good morning, Buffett,” Ray said to his foul-mouthed parrot. “I spent the night in Sagaponack with Helen. Did you miss me?”

“Like a dog misses its bone. Rawk. Where is the little guy?”

“Helen’s looking after Sampras,” Ray lied not wanting to alarm his bird.

“She should look after me,” Buffett said. “Since you never do.”

“Here, let me get you some fresh water,” Ray said filling up Buffett’s bottle.

“Could you put a little rum in there?”

“Ha ha. You are a corker. We’ve got a hurricane approaching. I’ve got to secure the house before it gets here. Want to help?”

“I wouldn’t want the wind to ruffle my feathers. I just got back from the beauty salon.”

“You are a barrel of laughs, my fine-feathered friend.”

“I’ll be here all week. I hope your homeowner’s insurance is paid up,” Buffett remarked before breaking into an insurance company jingle, “Liberty, liberty, liberty.”

Ray walked out the back door and could hear the surf pounding the beach on the other side of the dunes. He stashed a couple of beach chairs and a small table in the outside shower and brought his surfboard inside the house. Then he went to each window and closed the shutters. Inside he could hear Buffett squawk, “Who turned out the lights?”

When he was done securing anything loose outside, he went back inside and poured himself a glass of water. “I’m going to head out for a run before the storm comes,” he said to Buffett. “You want to join me?”

“You’re a regular riot, Ray Carson. A regular riot. Rawk.”

Ray was still in his running gear from the night before, but he threw on a fresh t-shirt because the one he was wearing had seen better days. As he did so, he noticed the mark on his chest was still red and pulsating. It seemed to resemble a familiar spiral, like the way a nautilus shell spiraled outward. He touched it and it was warm, almost hot.

“I ought to have that looked at,” he thought, pulling the t-shirt over his head.

“Hold down the fort,” he said to Buffett as he dashed out the back door.

“Aye aye, captain,” his bird said back to him.

Ray made his way down the sandy path that led through the dunegrass to the beach and heard the waves getting louder the closer he got.

He caught sight of them as he crested the dune and thought maybe he should be surfing instead of running. But he discarded that notion and kept on going, taking a left along the waterline, running into the wind toward the southern tip of Long Island.

“Always run into the wind on your way out,” he thought. “That way the run back is easier.”

But as he registered that thought, the wind seemed to part in front of him and was suddenly at his back propelling him forward at a pace he was unfamiliar with.

As he rocketed down the beach he became aware that he was not alone, that the wind itself had become a partner in this run and was guiding him to the sand where he would get the firmest footing.

And despite his pace, Ray never got winded. His energy and strength seemed to grow the further he ran, and the surf got more boisterous with each passing mile. He glanced at the waves and saw a pelican was flying alongside him keeping pace. “That’s odd,” he thought. “You don’t see many pelicans around here.”

“I got tired of the oil slicks in New Orleans after the Deepwater Horizon spill,” the pelican said to Ray.

“A talking pelican? Maybe I should see a doc,” Ray thought. “That powerline may have fried a circuit or two in my head.”

“Not so much talking as telepathing, Ray,” the pelican said. “And don’t worry, you’re better than ever. It’s the planet that could use your help.”

“I’m losing it,” Ray thought and slowed down to a walk. The pelican kept going.

By the water’s edge, Ray saw something green protruding from the sand and walked towards it. He bent down to inspect it more closely and saw what appeared to be a green army man half buried in the sand. He reached down to grab it and as he did a monstrous wave crashed over him and pulled him out to sea in its undertow. “WTF?” he thought, and the rip current sucked him out to sea quickly despite his efforts to escape it.

“Relax, Ray,” came a voice in his head and he noticed a dolphin to his right. “You’re gonna be fine. Just go with the flow.”

“OMG,” Ray thought. “I really have lost it. Now a dolphin is talking to me. I guess the mind conjures up this kind of shit when you’re about to die.”

“You’re not going to die, Ray,” the dolphin reassured him. “At least not on my watch.”

“You can hear what I think?” Ray thought.

“Dolphins are telepathic by nature, as are most creatures. For some reason the power hasn’t awakened in humans, with rare exception. My name’s Stormy by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Stormy. Where the heck are we going?”

“We’re going to pay a visit to a dear friend. Hang on if it makes you feel better.”

The dolphin came closer and Ray reached out to grab its dorsal fin. As he did so their speed picked up and Ray held tight as the dolphin dove into the blue.

“We’re about to enter an oceanic wormhole that will transport us to our destination in no time. It’s infused with oxygen, so you can stop holding your breath once we’re inside it.”

As they entered the wormhole, Ray cautiously took a breath and found sweet delicious air filling his lungs. He could tell they were traveling fast by the speed at which they passed the occasional fish. As he became accustomed to it, he found it exhilarating.

“Where are we going?” he thought out loud.

“Atlantis,” the dolphin thought back. “There’s someone you need to meet.”

“Aquaman, perhaps?” Ray joked.

“Lucent is her name. Words cannot begin to describe her.”

Suddenly an image popped into Ray’s head. It was perhaps the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen.

“Am I imagining that, or did you just telepath a picture of Lucent to me?”

“Words can be very limiting. And the brain processes images 60,000 times faster than words. We can also telepath feelings and sounds, though actual sounds have the added benefit of sonar, giving us a picture that the eyes may not be able to see.”

“So who is this Lucent? And why do I need to meet her?”

“She’s the leader of the Atlanteans.”

“Not that old myth.”

“That’s what they would like you to believe. But the truth is closer to the fiction: Atlantis is an underwater civilization of humans who have evolved in their isolated environment. And they’re concerned that their land-based relatives are entirely unprepared for the chaos that is coming when the seas rise.”

Ray wondered if his place in Montauk would be affected.

“The answer is yes,” telepathed Stormy.

As Ray tried to digest that piece of intel, Stormy said, “We’re here.”

They both popped their heads out of the water and Ray noticed they were in a large cavern with a beautiful sandy beach nearby.

“I thought this was an underwater civilization,” he thought.

“It is,” said Stormy. “You have a lot to learn. But this is as far as I go. Lucent is waiting for you on the beach.”

“Thanks Stormy. It was nice to meet you.”

“Ditto.” Stormy disappeared back under the sea and Ray swam towards the beach.

Something bothered Ray as he emerged from the water and walked under a blue sky with wispy clouds streaking by overhead. The sun warmed his wet body and a shiver ran through him.

He looked up at the sky and wondered, “I wonder where the sun is coming from? Aren’t we on the sea floor?”

“We harvest it from above with a system of mirrors.” Ray looked down from the sky to see where the voice was coming from and found himself face-to-face with a beautiful woman.

“You must be Lucent,” Ray said holding out his hand.

“And you must be Ray,” she said, taking his hand in hers and leading him down the beach.

“But the warmth – that can’t possibly travel here with the light, can it? How far down are we? And how long have you been here? And where does the atmosphere originate from?”

“One question at a time, dear friend. The warmth emanates from a lava flow nearby. The Earth’s core, not the sun, is our source of heat.”

“And the air?”

“Let me answer your questions in order, if I may. We are forty fathoms down.”

“800 feet below sea level? But the pressure…”

“I have been here for 19 years,” she continued, following Ray’s original line of inquiry. “And the atmosphere is enriched by the underbelly of our roof. It’s a rare species of coral that thrives on carbon. We exhale CO2, the coral liberates the carbon…”

“Leaving the O2 for you,” Ray finished her sentence. “Brilliant.”

“All nature’s doing, Ray. We just stumbled upon it a few centuries ago.”

“It’s blue,” he said, pointing to the sky.

“It’s dying,” she said, looking directly into his eyes. He was locked in her powerful, mournful gaze.

“But if it dies, how will you survive? How will you breathe?”

Her irises turned from a seafoam green to gray. “We won’t,” she said. “We won’t.”

CHAPTER 4

“That’s why you’re here, Ray. There are some things you must know before we go.”

“We go? You mean…”

“I’m afraid it’s inevitable. The reef has already begun to die.”

“But what about living on the surface with us?”

“I’m afraid we’ve tried that, but after living down here in this pristine environment for so long, your air isn’t rich enough for our lungs, your sun is too scorching for our skin, and your water isn’t fit to drink.”

“Kind of like going to Mexico City,” Ray tried to lighten the moment, which had grown heavier than a blue whale.

“Yes, kind of like that,” she smiled and her eyes warmed before unlocking her gaze from Ray’s.

“And then there are the diseases we have no immunity from.”

“Like the Coronavirus?”

“Among others. Come. You have a lot to learn. But first we must eat.”

Ray noticed they had approached what looked like a cross between the Bilbao Museum and the Sidney Opera House, though its surface was more organic, like that of a shell.

“Has Frank Gehry been here?” he asked, rubbing his hands over the sleek surface of the structure’s entrance.

“No, you’re the first.”

“Why me?” Ray wondered for the second time that day.

“You are our Green Army Man,” she said, reading his thoughts. “Our only hope.”

Ray realized he was still grasping the plastic figure he found on the beach before being swept up by the rogue wave. He looked at the little green army man and wondered if it had been placed there on purpose.

Lucent said, “Consider it our bat signal,” as she led him into a magnificent pink and beige room with walls made of shell resembling the inside of a conch. There was a table with an exotic array of foods on it.

“Please, have a seat,” she said, pulling out a chair that appeared to be cut from the same shell as the walls.

“It’s not cut, we cultivate it this way,” she said.

“It’s like she’s reading my mind,” Ray thought to himself. At least he thought he thought to himself.

“I did read your mind,” she said without moving her lips.

“Not you too,” he thought, recalling Stormy’s telepathic abilities.

“Yes, me too,” she thought to him. “Shall we eat?”

He was suddenly very hungry.

“Thirsty too?” she asked and poured him a goblet of a brightly colored orange beverage.

Ray took a sip and his taste buds drank in the novel sensation. “That’s wonderful,” he said. “What is it?”

“Tango,” Lucent said. “It’s a fruit that’s a cross between a mango, an orange and a lime. We grow them in our greenhouse. You like?”

“I like.” He sipped again. The flavor was familiar yet unique, and it quenched his thirst immediately. “Pretty darn good.” And as he looked in her eyes it was as if her pupils were eclipsing the sun and solar flares were leaping from the black edges illuminating her gray-green irises.

He felt a warming inside and wondered if it was the tango or something else, something more animal, more human in its origins.

“Try the abalone,” she said, offering him a plate. “We sustainably farm them on our reef and consider them a delicacy.”

“I’ve never had it,” Ray said, taking a bite. “Mmm. A little like a scallop.”

“We have those too,” Lucent said, presenting him with another plate. “And you must try our oysters.”

“My God, they’re gigantic!”

“Not nearly as big as the problem we’re facing.”

Suddenly we were all business.

“Go on,” Ray said with a sense of foreboding.

“You’re aware of the Greenland Ice Sheet?”

“I’ve heard it’s melting.”

“Yes, which is a long-term problem in its own right, but something threatens to hasten that issue. And when and if it does, the seas are expected to rise 7.2 meters. That’s 24 feet. All at once. Let me show you how that will affect coastlines around the world.”

Lucent lead me to an adjoining room where a digital map illuminated a wall. The touchscreen featured parameters that she adjusted. “I’m changing the sea level. Here’s what happens when it rises 24 feet.” The map displayed the areas affected. It was not a pretty picture.

“Millions will die,” he uttered.

“And millions more will be displaced, with nowhere to go. Shanghai will be gone. Southern Florida. Cairo. Amsterdam. Bangladesh. The list goes on. The death toll will be unfathomable. Anarchy will be unleashed on the world.”

“Is this all because of climate change?”

“No, though it will facilitate the catastrophe. The real culprit is oil. And greed.”

“Gordon Gekko was wrong, eh?”

“Dead wrong. And only you can put it right.”

“How’s that, if I may ask?”

“You may, and I’ll answer your question, but first let’s get to the root of the problem. There was a deep-core ice drilling station in Northwest Greenland called NEEM. Its mission was to extract ice cores from the previous interglacial period called the Eemian, which ended about 115,000 years ago. It’s the last time the Earth was as warm as it’s going to be post-climate change. Scientists figured they could learn a good deal about the effects of global warming by examining that ice.”

“So what went wrong?”

“After drilling through two miles of ice, they struck oil. The largest untapped reserve of oil known to man.”

“Why haven’t I heard about that?”

“It was a closely guarded secret, known only to a handful of National Science Foundation employees. Most of them have passed away under mysterious circumstances. The only survivor we know of is Richard Hedd.”

“The Secretary of the Interior?”

“And former energy and oil lobbyist. One of his clients was funding the NEEM ice core drilling, and Hedd was overseeing the operation. And there’s another disconcerting bit of news today.”

“What’s that?”

“America has bought Greenland.”

“Are you kidding? I know we’ve made overtures, but they were in no uncertain terms rejected.”

“We suspect there was a good deal of coercion, but it was announced today.”

“So I imagine we want to extract that oil now, is that it?”

“There are some challenges to doing that, and a very ill-informed method of addressing those challenges is underway.”

“Which is?”

“Explosives to clear the ice from the area. A MOAB or Massive Ordinance Air Blast, commonly referred to as The Mother Of All Bombs. We have intelligence that indicates Richard Hedd and a team of mercenaries are on their way from Thule to NEEM on the next Greenland Inland Traverse. If they make it to their destination and detonate that bomb, our scientists tell us it will send the entire ice shelf into the sea. The consequences would be devastating.”

“Lovely. So how do I figure in?”

“Ray, something happened to you on that trail yesterday that triggered some very unique capabilities.”

“Was that only yesterday? Seems like an ice age ago.”

“With your newfound telepathic abilities, you have the power to marshal an army of forces to stop this, from polar bears to liquid fog.”

“Liquid fog?”

“It’s a type of Greenland fog that’s composed of supercooled liquid particles. It can do great damage, and in the right hands, could be a powerful weapon.”

“My hands get a bit chapped in the cold…”

“As Churchill said, “The price of greatness is responsibility.” We have ten days before the explosives arrive at NEEM. I suggest we use some of that time getting you ready.”

“Where do we start?”

“Stormy can guide you on the use of your telepathy with sea creatures and the ocean. But first you should get some rest.  

Lucent led Ray to a small room with a bed and an adjoining bathroom.

“You’ll stay here until it’s time to go. If you need anything – food, drink, a softer pillow – just think the words ‘room service’ and you’ll be attended to.”

“Wow. I doubt many Five Diamond hotels can make that claim.”

“Sleep well Ray. We have a big day tomorrow.” Lucent reached out her hand and took hold of Ray’s. “And thank you.”

“Good night,” he said, getting lost in the wonder of her eyes.

She let go of his hand, turned and walked away. Ray entered the room and pulled the green army man out of his pocket. He placed it on the bedside table, then lay down on the bed and sighed, exhaustion overtaking him. The bed didn’t look like much, but it was surprisingly comfortable. It seemed to embrace him in a sea of calm.

He reached over to the lamp by his bed but couldn’t find a switch to turn it off. But even the lamp seemed to read his mind and turned itself off. The green army man glowed softly on the table next to Ray.

While his body relaxed, his mind raced, drowning in the prospect of a 24-foot sea level rise. The devastation. The deaths. The migrations of millions with nowhere to go. The chaos that would follow.

It was so unfathomable, his thoughts turned to Helen and he wondered what she would think. Her response would be decisive and all out. Ray needed to find a way to leverage her strength. Before drifting off, he thought about Sampras and said a prayer that he was all right. “I haven’t forgotten about you,” he thought and dreamed he heard Sampras respond, “I know. I’m okay.”

CHAPTER 5

Ray woke to light streaming into his room and for a moment he thought he was back in Montauk until he opened his eyes and took in the strange surroundings.

There was a closet in the room and he decided to rummage through it to see if there was a change of clothes that might fit. The only thing it contained was a jumpsuit on a hanger. Ray thought, “When in Rome,” and proceeded to try it on. It seemed to be made of a flexible metal fabric, like some futuristic chain mail with a shimmering finish.

On the chest it bore a logo that looked like a mashup between a G and a lightning bolt. “What’s this? Gatorade Man?,” Ray thought to himself.

“Try Green Army Man,” said Lucent’s voice in his head. Ray turned to see her standing there in the doorway. The air around her seemed to glow and radiate a positive energy.

“Good morning,” Ray said turning toward her. “I was just looking for a change of clothes.”

“You’ve come to the right place. Looks good on you.”

 “And it fits like a glove. How did you know my size?”

“Your bed provided a good deal of input. And it’s a smart fabric that contours itself to the body.”

“I can’t believe how lightweight this is. Yet it’s metal, right?”

“It can change depending upon the environment. Underwater, it behaves more like a dolphin’s skin. In the air, it’s a wingsuit. On the Greenland ice, it provides warmth like polar bear’s fur. You’ll get used to it,” Lucent said with a wink. “Breakfast?”

Ray wondered what was on the menu in Atlantis.

“How do you like your eggs?” asked Lucent.

“Scrambled sounds good. Like my thoughts.”

“It’s all a little hard to digest I’m afraid. And there’s a lot on your shoulders. I don’t blame you for being a bit shaken. Let’s get you some coffee.”

Coffee sounded good. Ray followed Lucent into a kitchen where there was an array fruit, juices, baked goods and eggs. He filled a plate and Lucent handed him a mug of coffee.

“Mmmh, that’s good. Where do you get your coffee from?”

“We have a large hydroponic farming operation and grow it ourselves.”

“Below sea level?”

“Yes, we harvest minerals from the ocean floor and infuse desalinated water with them. The coral reef provides a rich atmosphere, and our mirrornet provides supercharged daylight on demand.”

“Mirrornet?”

“It’s a network of magnifying glass mirrored surfaces that amplify the sunlight while transporting it here. Once here, we’ve developed increasingly smaller more efficient ways of storing it.”

“I find it hard to conceive of storing sunlight.”

“No lightbulbs or wiring necessary.” Lucent smiled. “Try the spicy seafood sausage.”

“Wow. That’s good. Reminds me of something you’d find in New Orleans.

“Speaking of which, it would be a shame to lose it.”

“Shore would,” Ray said, affecting a southern drawl. His shallow humor elicited a Mona Lisa smile from Lucent before she continued.

“Even bigger losses would originate in China. Shanghai is home to 25 million people. And Jiangsu to its north houses 80 million. Imagine China’s response if America was responsible for that kind of carnage and chaos.”

“Could be nuclear.”

“Or biological. Or worse yet, both.”

“And compounded by America’s response to that. It could mean the end of the world.”

“So you see why we have to stop this.”

“It’s getting clearer. The big question is how.”

“We’ve given that a great deal of thought. When we’re done here, I’ll go over the gameplan.”

“Sounds like a plan. These eggs are awesome, by the way.”

“They’re Aix eggs. Or Mandarin Duck, as it’s commonly known. Pretty birds.”

“I remember there was one in Central Park for a while. Caused quite a sensation.”

“Let’s get to work, shall we?”

They rose from the table and brought their dishes to the kitchen where Lucent put them next to a sinkside bot that began to wash them.

“I need one of those,” Ray said.

“I’ll get you one when this is all behind us,” Lucent said. “Come.”

She led Ray to the room where they’d looked at the map of the world the day before.

“Here’s a map of Greenland. You can see the ice sheet covers most of the country. 94%, in fact. The NEEM camp is located up here in the north. It’s been shut down since 2012, but Hedd and his team are en route from Thule Air Base on the Greenland Inland Traverse, a fleet of ice-crossing vehicles used to ferry supplies to Summit Camp, down here. That’s normally a two-month excursion. But our sources tell us they plan to detour to NEEM and unload about half their cargo there, along with Hedd and his so-called NSF team. Which are not actually from the National Science Foundation.”

“Who are they then?”

“The Secretary of the Interior has enlisted a group of geologists, oilmen, explosive experts, and a paramilitary force of private contractors called the Xeros. A couple dozen in all.”

“And their cargo?”

“Drilling equipment, supplies, arms and explosives.”

“What do they need the arms for?”

“We aren’t the only ones interested in NEEM. There are other powerful oil interests – Arabs, Russians, Chinese – who have asserted a global right to participate in the oil extraction. And Greenpeace is planning to stage a protest. We should be able to get the job done before any of them arrive on the scene. This is not the easiest place to get to.”

“And how do you expect me to take on this private army?”

“You’ll have your own army. A polar bear militia will be waiting for you.”

“You expect me to fight armed mercenaries with polar bears?”

“Never underestimate a polar bear. You’ll also have Mother Nature on your side. And the ice itself. You have powers you don’t realize. You can summon all of them. And they will do as you command.”

“Am I living in a dream right now? This is all a bit too fantastic.”

“I’m afraid it’s all too real. If the bomb is detonated under the ice, it will send the entire ice shelf into the neighboring ocean.”

“Not good.”

“Not at all. The ice has a layer of meltwater under much of it due to climate change, and when the blast goes off, the ice will ride that meltwater to the seas. If that happens, the chain of disastrous events will be irreversible.”

“Let’s say we even get to the bomb. What are we to do with it?”

“We return it to the U.S. and draw enough publicity that they don’t repeat the mistake.”

“Not foolproof, I’m afraid.”

“The best option we could come up with. If you have other ideas…”

“I’ll think about it. In the meantime, fill me in on the gameplan for getting our hands on this bomb.”

“The Inland Traverse leaves Thule Air Base tomorrow morning. It will take them 10 days to get to NEEM. You will intercept them here in 3 days.” Lucent pointed to a remote place on the map on the Greenland ice shelf.

“How will I get there?”

“The bulk of the journey will be through an undersea wormhole, which will get you to Greenland in less than a day. You’ll leave tomorrow morning, and land here, Savissivik, tomorrow at dusk. You’ll be met by Kallik, an Inuit friend and ally. He will accompany you to NEEM, which you’ll get to on Kallik’s Ice Cat, a catamaran you’ll sail across the ice. With the wind’s help, you will be at ground zero in a day.” Lucent pointed to a red X on the map.

“Do we have to refer to it as ground zero? Sounds like a place where a bomb goes off.”

“Let’s hope that’s not the case.”

“So how will I find this guy Kallik on Savissivik? Sounds like a limerick. There once was a man named Kallik…”

“Savissivik is a small island with only 55 inhabitants. Stormy will alert Kallik you’re coming, and he’ll be waiting for you on the shore. You’ll then take a short trip to the mainland where you’ll sail across the ice to meet Hartwig and his army.”

“Da Bears,” Ray tried to lighten the air that had grown heavy.

“The team of polar bears will be at your command. They’ll help you stop the vehicles and overcome the Xeros.”

“Won’t the mercenaries just shoot them?”

“That’s where the liquid fog will come in handy. You can use it to superfreeze and disable their guns. You’ll then have to figure out which vehicle is towing the bomb, and commandeer it back to Thule Air Base where it will be transported to DC.”

“And how will I know which transport the bomb is on?”

“Listen to the NSF team’s thoughts. They’ll guide you to it.”

“There you go with that telepathic stuff again.”

“You have a rare talent. You just have to learn how to use it.”

“In the next 48 hours?”

“I dare say there will be some learning on the job. But in the meantime, Stormy can help guide you. Dolphin telepathic abilities are among the best on the planet. Let’s get you back in the water.”

CHAPTER 6

Lucent led Ray down the luminous corridor to the beach where Stormy appeared to be bodysurfing.

“Hey Stormy,” Ray said to the dolphin and waved.

“Hello Ray. Let’s use our telepathic voices today,” Ray heard Stormy say in his head.

“You got it,” Ray replied, catching himself speaking out loud again. “This is going to take a little getting used to,” he thought.

“You got that right,” Stormy telepathed. “Nice outfit by the way.”

“Thanks, does my butt look big in it?”

“Enough fooling around,” interrupted Lucent. “Be on your way.”

Ray said goodbye to Lucent and she replied, “Festina lente,” and turned and walked away.

“Festina lente?” Ray asked.

“It’s Latin for Make haste slowly,” Stormy telepathed. “When you arrive at the still point of the turning world, as your poet T.S. Eliot described it, time seems to stand still. It is there that you can transcend time, make haste, and be most productive. But finding that still point is an elusive quest for most.”

“Sounds like an oxymoron to me.”

“Without counterpoint, there is no meaning,” Stormy said. “Now let’s work on your command of telepathy. Why don’t you join me in the water. We’re going to see how you do with various sea creatures, but first I want to familiarize you with your uniform.”

As Ray waded in, he noticed how the material seemed to repel the water and glide effortlessly through it.

“Your jumpsuit is made from an advanced smart fabric that can exhibit different properties in different situations. In the water, it mimics a dolphin’s skin and helps you speed through the sea. In the air, it becomes like a squirrel windsuit that lets you ride the air. On land, it’s just a comfortable performance fabric with a light compression fit. On the Greenland Ice Sheet, it’s more like polar bear fur. It’s a smart nanosuit, and like the animal kingdom itself, it is at your command.”

“Wow,” Ray thought, feeling the fabric.

“It also has a helmet you can use if in deep water or, God forbid, deep space. And a healthy supply of oxygen. In water, it separates the hydrogen from the oxygen, using the hydrogen as a propellant while you get to breathe pure oxygen.”

“How do I activate the helmet?”

“Just think the command, “Helmet on,” and it will comply.”

“Helmet on,” Ray thought, and from the shoulders and upper back of the suit a helmet arose. Ray took a deep breath of the oxygen, dove underwater and found himself face-to-face with Stormy. “It’s like scuba diving without the tanks and mouthpiece,” he thought.

“I wouldn’t know – never done it,” Stormy replied with a smile. “And you’re about to do some things you’ve never done.”

“Such as?”

“Talk to a whale, for instance. Come on.” Stormy swam off in front of Ray and he followed. As he did he noticed the feet of his nanosuit had developed flippers that helped speed him along. He also saw fabric extended between his fingers of his hands turning them into flipper-like swimming aids as well.

“This is some suit,” he thought.

“Almost as good as mine,” Sandy thought back as she gave a flick of her tail and propelled herself forward.

They cruised along the reef among an abundance of crabs, fish, sponges, sea stars, jelly fish and shrimp. And then he saw it in the distance coming toward them looking like a white submarine. It was monstrous. A good hundred feet. And yet Ray could sense both the power and the gentle nature of the great white whale.

“Ray, meet Melville,” Stormy telepathed an introduction.

“Hi, Melville,” Ray thought back. “Any relation to Herman?”

“He and my grandfather I were close friends,” Melville said. “I was named after him.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

“On behalf of the cetacean community, we’d like you to know that we support your mission and will do everything within our power to help.”

“That’s great,” Ray thought. “But how are whales and dolphins going to help me once I’m on the ice?”

“Much like you humans have the internet and wi-fi, we can be the network for your thoughts and communication on a global scale. By linking our consciousness, we can give you instantaneous access to a global force of creatures and forces of nature by expanding your telepathic reach worldwide.”

“Uh huh,” Ray replied trying to grasp the implications.

“We’ve been at this for a long time, and you can benefit from our experience and abilities by amplifying your own telepathic powers.”

“Cool,” Ray thought. “Glad to be on your team.”

“And we are glad to be on yours,” thought the whale. “Now close your eyes and imagine seeing out of mine.”

Ray closed his eyes and thought about seeing the world from the whale’s vantage point. It took a moment, but suddenly he was looking at himself through the eyes of the giant cetacean. And as he settled into that vision he got the feeling that he was the link in a chain that connected a vast network of living creatures and a consciousness that encompassed all living things.

“You’ll never see the world quite the same way,” the blue whale thought.

Back in his own mind and body, Ray found himself looking back at Melville and thinking, “No, I don’t suppose I will.”

“I look forward to reconnecting with you soon,” the whale thought before giving a flick of his giant tail and swimming away.

“Wow, that was awe inspiring,” Ray thought.

“Just a glimpse of what’s possible,” Stormy responded. “Let’s take a trip to the surface. Grab a fin.”

Ray reached out and grabbed hold of Stormy’s dorsal fin and up they went.

“Now I’d like to teach you to swim like a dolphin,” Stormy said and leapt through the waves. Ray followed after him imagining his feet were like a dolphin’s tail. His uniform responded by shape shifting to create a tail that propelled him forward. It was initially a bit awkward, but the awkwardness was soon replaced by a sense of power and harmony with the ocean.

“You’re a quick learner,” Stormy said circling back to Ray’s side.

“The uniform doesn’t hurt,” Ray thought as they bobbed at the surface.

“It will also help you on the ice,” Stormy said. “It can mimic the polar bear’s fur to keep you warm and help you blend in with the landscape. And if you need the traction of a polar bear’s claws, you can summon that as well.”

“Supernumerous existence wells up in my heart,” Ray thought, remembering a line from Duino Elegies by Rainer Rilke.

“I love Rilke,” Stormy thought.

“How does a dolphin become familiar with the written words of a poet?” Ray wondered.

“Most of the great writers find their inspiration in our common consciousness. They think the lines before they write them, and we become aware of those thoughts. Sometimes we even inspire them.”

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for that,” Ray thought.

“I helped write some of the songs on Dark Side Of The Moon.”

“No way!”

“Way.”

In his head he heard the refrain ‘breathe in the air, don’t be afraid to care.’

“That was yours?” he asked Stormy.

“Words to live by,” Stormy replied.

Soon they surfaced off the coast of an island with a crescent beach and a mount rising beyond. “Where are we?” I wondered silently.

“El Hierro,” Sandy telepathed. “One of the Canary Islands, once thought to be the end of the Earth before Columbus. Today it’s the first fully sustainable island on the planet. That peak is Malpaso. There’s a trail you’re going to train on that ascends to the top. It’s not an easy run, between the volcanic rock and the cloud forest, so you’ll want to summon some help.”

“And how do I go about doing that?” I wondered.

“That’s why we’re here. You’ll figure it out. Just look inside.”

“Inside what?” But Stormy had retreated underwater and left Ray without an answer. “Only one way to find out,” he thought, and swam to shore.

The sand under his feet was black and hot but the jumpsuit enveloped his feet in something resembling a laceless running shoe and kept the sand from burning the soles of his feet. He saw a trailhead at one end of the beach and jogged toward it. A giant lizard sat by the entrance and welcomed him with a wave of its tail. Ray said, “Hey there,” and the lizard responded, “Hi.”

“Is this the way to Malpaso?” Ray asked and the lizard again responded, “Hi.”

“Not the sharpest tool,” Ray thought, and the lizard picked up on it and said indignantly, “Hey.”

As he walked along the trail, he reflected on Stormy’s words “look inside.” Ray wondered if he’d come across some old ruins he should explore, or perhaps a cave.

Ray picked up his pace as the trail became rocky and steep. “This is not going to be a cakewalk,” he thought to himself.

“Few things worth doing are,” a voice in his head said.

It sounded a bit like Frances McDormand.

“Who goes there?” Ray asked.

“It’s your mother,” the voice said.

“C’mon, you don’t think I’d know my own mother’s voice?”

“Your other mother.”

As Ray contemplated that, he picked up his pace running up the steep trail. It was effortless. He felt like he could fly if he wanted to.

“That could be arranged,” the voice said.

As he run up the rocky slope, his feet barely touched the ground, yet his pace grew steadily as the ground beneath him blurred. “How can this be?” he wondered.

“Selective gravitational suspension,” she said in his head. “I don’t do this for everybody.”

“And seriously, who are you?”

“Some people call me Gaia. Ceres used to call me Tellus. But I prefer Terra.”

“Earth? I’m talking to the planet? You gotta be shitting me.”

“I assure you Ray, I’m not shitting you. But I am here to help you on your mission. Like the trail you’re running right now, it will be no cakewalk.”

The rocky trail grew steeper and Ray was amazed by the way he could accelerate up the hill.

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around this mission as you call it. How do you think you can help me accomplish it?”

“Well I can move mountains, for one.”

Ray felt the ground rumble and move beneath him. “Impressive,” he thought.

“I’m not sure I’d suggest that in Greenland though. Any movement of the land is liable to loosen the ice cap and send it cascading toward the sea. We’ll have to think more creatively about how we can collaborate to prevent that bomb from getting to its destination and wreaking havoc.”

“How do you put up with us humans? We pollute your air and water, rape the land and kill off entire species.”

“If you’re not careful, you’ll be one of those species.”

“Maybe the world would be better off without us.”

“Nonsense, I’d miss you. And there’s a lot of good you humans can do when you put your minds to it.”

“It’s a bit overwhelming to consider how one person can make a difference.”

“Hopefully you’ll be living proof of that very thing.”

“I’m beginning to feel your weight on my shoulders.”

The earth let out a belly laugh that shook the ground and echoed through the canyons.

“Ray Carson, you crack me up. I hope you and Hartwig and I can share a good laugh when this is all behind us.”

“Hartwig?”

“Hartwig is the polar bear that will captain an army at your command on the ice. Hartwig’s name means “courageous in battle” and I trust he will live up to it. Polar bears can be formidable fighters when the chips are down. And let me tell you, they are down.”

“Well I’m glad we have some time to strategize before I head north.”

“I’m afraid not. I’ve got a wildfire burning out of control in California, an oil spill in the gulf, rain forests being decimated in South America and Borneo, and I’ll be damned if that whale you met earlier just got caught in a drift net.”

“Melville? That’s terrible. Can I help?” Ray asked?

“You got a knife on you?”

Ray instinctively reached for his hip and sure enough he felt the handle of a bowie knife strapped to his waist.

“Let’s go,” he said turning around to descend Malpaso. “Time for a little Paul McCartney and Wings.”

All Ray had to do was envision it, and the fabric of his uniform extended under his arms and between his legs forming a wingsuit.

“I’ll have the wind pick up and get you to Melville. Just jump off that cliff to your right.”

“You sure this is gonna work?”

“Trust me. Just spread your wings and fly.”

Ray ran downhill toward the cliff with his adrenalin pumping and as he leapt off the overhanging rock he yelled, “Geronimo!”

His heart was in his throat as he initially started to drop and then the wind propelled him forward toward the ocean.

“You okay?” Terra asked.

“Steve Miller would be jealous. I’m flying like an eagle. This is amazing!”

Ray rocketed above the waves and rode the wind until he saw Stormy leaping above the water ahead.

Terra said, “Kill the wings, we’re going below.”

As he brought his hands to his side and his legs together, Ray thought, “Helmut on,” and his suit enveloped his head just before he dove beneath the surface.

He grabbed Stormy’s dorsal fin and together they made their way to Melville who was tangled in a large nylon fishing net.

“Seems I can’t leave you alone for a minute,” Ray telepathed to Melville.

“This thing is like a straight jacket,” Melville responded, squirming in the net’s embrace. “One moment I was swimming along, and the next it had me in it’s grasp before my sonar could even pick it up.”

“Seems you’re not alone.” Ray saw the net went on as far as he could see and had trapped all manner of fish – tuna, sharks, sunfish, sailfish, swordfish – most of which were already dead.

“Such a waste of precious life,” Melville said.

“Well, let’s try to limit our losses,” Ray replied and started cutting the areas entangling Melville’s fins. It was tough work. The synthetic netting was strong, and had probably been floating around the ocean for years doing indiscriminate damage to all manner of aquatic life.

“I could use some air,” Melville said, and started flapping his free pectoral fins to propel him toward the surface. But his tail was still caught in the net and hampered his efforts.

“Hang on, let me try to free your tail,” Ray said. Melville was badly tangled in the net, and it took Ray quite a while to cut through it all.

To distract himself, Melville began singing a song, and Ray could not only hear it, but feel it reverberating through his body.

“That’s a lovely tune,” he said to the whale.

“My mother taught it to me,” Melville thought. “She sang it to me after I got lost as a youngster. If you were to translate it, it would go something like, Have no fear, mommy’s here. I’ve always found it comforting.”

“A lot more comforting than these lines wrapped around your tail. Last one,” Ray said as he cut through the nylon freeing the giant leviathan.

The white whale flapped his tail and rocketed toward the surface breaching the water and sucking in air. With his lungs full, he splashed back down unleashing a loud smack and wall of spray that would make any cannonballing kid envious.

Ray surfaced and the whale approached him. Ray looked Melville in his giant eye and felt a huge wave of gratitude emanate from the whale.

“Thank you,” said Melville. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Glad I could be of help,” Ray thought back.

“I wish you the best in Greenland. Come back and let me know how it goes.”

“Will do Melville.”

With that, the whale took off with a flick of its tail.

Returning to the surface, Ray rejoined Stormy.

“Thanks for helping out,” the dolphin thought.

Ray’s helmet retracted and he thought, “Anytime, Stormy. Anytime.”

Ray was wondering what next when Stormy made a suggestion.

“There are some sharks in the water that were attracted by Melville’s distress. If you hadn’t have come along, they would have attacked him while he was caught in the net. Drowning would have been a kinder fate.”

“Oh my God, I never noticed them.”

“Perhaps we can use them to do some good. Why don’t you attempt to get inside their heads and direct them to use their teeth to tear apart the driftnet that Melville was tangled in. Might prevent it from capturing another sea turtle or sailfish.”

“Good idea.” Ray closed his helmet and resubmerged looking for the sharks. A chill ran through him as he was suddenly surrounded by them. All his instincts said to head back to the surface, but Stormy sent a reassuring thought his way. “Get into their heads.”

Ray took his advice and was suddenly aware of a dull menacing presence. He commanded the sharks to destroy the drift net and they immediately complied by gnashing the netting with their sharp teeth.   

Rejoining Stormy at the surface, he thought, “Mission accomplished. But I have limited appetite for revisiting their minds. So much more confined and agitated than yours and Melville’s.”

“I’d have to agree. But they serve their purpose.”

“Or porpoise,” Ray joked.

“LOL,” Stormy thought. “C’mon, let’s head back. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

With that, the two of them sought out the wormhole that would return them to Atlantis.

CHAPTER 7

“How was your day?” Lucent asked Ray over a glass of Atlantean wine.

“Eventful. I had the pleasure of meeting Melville and later freed him from a rogue driftnet.”

“That was very heroic of you. Melville manages a league of guardians of our planet and his loss would have been devastating. I take it you met Terra as well?”

“Yes, and I still can’t quite comprehend that. The planet is a sentient being? Hard to wrap my head around.”

“Sometimes you need to get out of your head to grasp the bigger picture.”

“Or out of your mind,” he said. “Esto es loco.”

“What’s really crazy is how self-centered people can be. The common good often eludes them.”

“I guess that’s true. What’s on the docket for tomorrow?”

“Weapons training.”

“Firearms?”

“No, we don’t condone guns. Your arsenal will be the elements. And once you learn to marshal them, you’ll find they’re much more powerful than conventional weaponry.”

“I think the Beatles wrote a song about that.”

“Really? I thought I knew all the Beatles’ tunes and I don’t recall that one.”

“Happiness is a warm sun,” Ray serenaded her.

“Ha. Very clever. I think our wine is going to your head. You should get some sleep.”

“I’ll see you in my dreams,” he sang, switching from The Beatles to Springsteen. He blew Lucent a kiss and retreated to his room.

Despite his exhaustion, Ray lay in bed unable to sleep. The importance of his mission plagued his mind with the prospect of failure and the consequences.

“Relax,” a voice inside his head said. “You’ll live longer.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“I’m the guy on your nightstand dressed in green.”

“A plastic figure is talking to me? C’mon.”

“Hey, never underestimate the power of plastic. You saw the movie The Graduate. Mr. McGuire was right.”

“Tell that to the pacific gyre.”

“Don’t blame that garbage patch on me. You humans discarded all that plastic into the ocean.”

“I can’t believe I’m talking to a toy soldier.”

“Telepathy is a marvelous thing, ain’t it. You might say I’m a channel for a collective consciousness that wants to see you succeed. And I’d like to help.”

“What can a discarded toy do to help fight an armed militia?”

“You’d be surprised. Take me along with you and I’ll be your eyes and ears to threats that may be beyond your perception.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Trade secret. Trust me, you need all the help you can get.”

“All right, just let me get some sleep. I’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“How about I sing you a lullaby?”

The green army man began to sing a song beyond words with a melody that was at once foreign yet familiar, hypnotic and calming. It didn’t take long to work its magic and send Ray into a deep slumber.

Ray was dreaming of Helen, her body wrapped around his in a loving embrace. He brought his face close to hers intent on kissing her when suddenly it’s not Helen but Lucent he’s about to kiss.

“Ray, wake up,” Lucent said out loud fending off his kiss. “We’ve got a problem.”

Ray shook off his sleep and said, “Good morning.”

“Not that good,” said Lucent. “The Xeros have been driving the Transverse around the clock. We hadn’t counted on that. We need to get you to Greenland pronto.”

“Pronto, wasn’t he the Lone Ranger’s sidekick?”

“No time for fun and games. Grab your uniform. I’ll meet you in the map room.”

Ray stripped down, put on his jumpsuit and was walking out the door when he heard a familiar voice say, “Hey, aren’t you forgetting something?”

He hesitated for a moment and then went back into his room and grabbed the green army man tucking him into a pocket.

Lucent was standing by the map of Greenland and said, “We’ve got to get you on your way, but first I need to brief you on your rendezvous with Hartwig.”

“I bearly know him.”

Lucent ignored him and pointed to a place on the map with no name. “Hartwig and his tribe will meet you here tomorrow at 0700. The rendezvous point is programmed into your suit’s GPS.”

“I didn’t know it was GPS-enabled. Does it make a mean cup of coffee too? I could use a cup.”

“I’ll have someone bring you a pot. In the meantime, let’s go over the gameplan from there. You and the polar bear squad will arrive at the NEEM camp by noon, and we don’t expect the Xeros until 2. If all goes well, you’ll have a couple of hours to set a trap before they arrive. Hartwig will have some ideas on that front.”

“That’s good, because I haven’t a clue.”

 “It’ll come to you. Terra can help.”

“It’s Terra versus the terrorists.”

“They don’t think of themselves as terrorists. This is strictly power and greed. But they may be aware of the consequences and not care. They can insulate themselves from the ensuing chaos, particularly with the kind of wealth they’ll soon enjoy.”

“But the U.S. bought Greenland. How can individuals profit from this?”

“The President declared it a public/private partnership and proceeded to invite his cronies into the private side. But we digress. Once you’ve overtaken the Xeros, you need to secure the bomb. We need to make sure it gets returned safely to the Americans or there will be hell to pay.”

“Copy that,” Ray said. “But we should first extract a guarantee that they won’t try anything as stupid in the future.”

“I fear that would be an empty promise. You’ll need to transport the device back to Thule where a U.S. cargo plane will take it home.”

“And then what?”

“Then you’re free to go celebrate saving the world.”

“I’ll drink to that,” he said, raising his coffee cup.

CHAPTER 8

Post-training day evening with Lucent?

The following day, Stormy was waiting for Ray in the cove and greeted him with a leap. Ray bid Lucent goodbye with hug and felt her warmth fill his body and spirit.

“Wish me luck,” he said as he waded out to meet Stormy.

“Break a leg,” she said, blowing him a kiss.

“Let’s go Romeo,” telepathed Stormy who pulled up close to Ray offering him his dorsal fin. Ray grabbed hold and thought, “Helmet on,” summoning his underwater suit. Together they submerged to begin their journey to Greenland. Ray let go of Stormy’s fin and imagined himself as a dolphin. His uniform responded and Ray now resembled some fantastic sleek sea creature, part man/part dolphin. With a powerful flick of his tail, he caught up to Stormy and tried to mimic his graceful leaps through air and ocean.

“Is Lucent single?” Ray asked Stormy, still tingling from their embrace.

“Can we focus on the task at hand? I think it’s going to take every bit of your splintered attention span to succeed.”

“Aye, captain.”

“Today we were going to train you in weaponry,” Stormy said. “Now it’s urgent that we get you to Greenland immediately. But maybe we can practice a bit on the way.”

“Whatever you say, Storm.”

“Let’s say you wanted to create a wormhole to speed you to Greenland. How would you do that?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be telling me?”

“The best way to learn is by doing. You’ll learn more from your failures than any words I can put in your head. Now how would you begin?”

“Maybe by envisioning a wormhole?”

“And what is it about the wormhole that makes it special?”

“It’s filled with air, for one thing. Otherwise I’d have drowned on my way to Atlantis.”

“Good, so where are you going to get that air?”

“From the surface?”

“Very good. So there’s your starting point. You need to create a subterranean El Niño. You’ve got to harness and amplify a jet stream and send it undersea.”

“Uh, yeah. No problem. I’ll get right on that,” Ray thought facetiously.

“You’ve got the power. You just need to have faith and focus. Now reach out and connect with the atmosphere and envision the wind funneling down and through the water.”

Ray took a deep breath of the oxygen-rich environment within his helmet. He tried to envision the air, but it was difficult to ‘see’ something that is essentially invisible.

“But it’s not really invisible. Look closer.”

Ray looked inward and things became clearer. He was suddenly able to see a mixture nitrogen and oxygen and water vapor and he imagined them moving faster and faster creating a funnel of air pressure that he commanded to dive into the ocean.

They could see the wormhole rocketing towards them. “OMG,” Ray thought and braced for impact.

“Ray! Swim in the same direction it’s going and then get right alongside it until we’re drawn in.”

“If you say so. Let’s go.”

Stormy and Ray set off heading north and could feel the wormhole next to them moments later. They steered themselves closer until they were right next to the tunnel of air. Ray reached out to where the air met the water and as soon as he broke the surface he was sucked into the wormhole and moving at an incredible clip. He could see Stormy next to him and thought, “This is amazing.”

“Yes. Stay focused. Imagine the wormhole and the GPS in your suit connecting and it will guide us to Greenland.”

Ray only needed to think it and he could feel the two magically connect. “I think it worked.”

“Yes, I think you’ve got it. As you get used to your power to connect with the forces of nature, it will become second nature. Like breathing. Or walking. You don’t consciously think of your lungs expanding and contracting, or moving one foot in front of the other. You can do them both subconsciously.”

“That’s great,” said Ray. “But what I don’t get is why me? There have to be people better suited than an out-of-shape ad man for this job.”

“You’re too modest, Ray. You’re actually in pretty good shape for a human. And your profession isn’t necessarily a representation of what your soul desires.”

“You’re saying I wanted to do this?”

“On some deeper level, yes. But it’s all about connections. Your connection to Helen might have been a bit of a catalyst.”

“She did get me thinking how much the trees lining the trail mean to me.”

“Trees are amazing beings.”

Ray was taking in Stormy’s observation when he heard an urgent voice yell, “Incoming!”

Ray recognized the voice of the green army man in his pocket whom he’d totally forgotten about.

Suddenly he and stormy were joined in the wormhole by a massive great white shark. Ray instinctively tried to get inside the shark’s head but found himself blocked out. The shark opened its fearsome jaws that were filled with razor sharp teeth and thrashed toward them. It was nearly on them when something broke through the wormhole and grabbed the shark in it’s even bigger jaws. Ray immediately recognized their savior. It was Melville.

“Thank God!” he thought, and then, “Thanks Melville!”

“Anytime Ray! I owe you.” The great white whale swam out of the wormhole with the great white shark clamped between his own impressive set of teeth.

“Now that’s what I call the jaws of life,” Ray said to Stormy.

“That was close,” replied the dolphin.

“Why couldn’t I get inside the shark’s head,” Ray wondered.

“There are some darker forces at work here, and they must have been commandeering the great white. The disturbing thing is, they must know we’re coming for them.”

“That could make the mission more difficult,” Ray thought. “We lose the element of surprise.”

“True. But we always have Terra on our side. You can call on her when all else fails. Of course, it doesn’t hurt to have friends like Melville.”

“I get by with a little help from my friends.”

“That’s right, Ringo.”

The two of them sped their way toward Greenland with a song in their head and the wind at their backs.

CHAPTER 9

As they reached the end of the wormhole off the coast of Greenland, Ray felt his adrenaline level kick up a notch. They surfaced near an iceberg traversing Baffin Bay.

“That iceberg broke off from the mainland yesterday. It’s indicative of the instability of the ice cap right now,” Stormy said.

“It’s beautiful.” Ray gawked at the huge floating block of ice.

“Yes. Well, this is the end of the line for me,” Stormy said. “I’ll be rooting for you, Ray. We all will.”

“Thanks, Stormy. I hope to see you when the dust clears.”

“Let’s just hope it’s not a nuclear dust cloud.”

“Amen to that. Goodbye my friend.”

“Goodbye my friend. And good luck.”

Ray swam towards shore as Stormy watched him go. “There goes one brave human,” Stormy thought to himself.

But as he made his way through the bitter cold waters of Baffin Bay, Ray wasn’t feeling too brave. How the hell were he and a pack of polar bears going to prevail against armed mercenaries? “This is ludicrous,” he said out loud, and began to tread water. “I should be back on Long Island looking for Sampras.”

“Soldier on,” he heard a voice in his head say and thought, “WTF? Wait, I know that voice.” Then it dawned on him it was the green army man in his pocket. He reached in and pulled his little green friend out and said, “You talking to me?”

“Soldier on,” the toy soldier repeated. “You go back to the Island now and you and that mutt of yours will be doing a dog paddle in the Atlantic. And you won’t be alone.”

“Damned if I do, damned if I don’t,” Ray lamented.

“Never give up. Soldier on.”

“Since when am I a soldier? I’m just an ad man.”

“You are now a captain in the Green Army.”

“I don’t recall enlisting.”

“You’ve been drafted. There’s no turning back. You must soldier on.”

“I think I’d rather go AWOL.”

“Don’t be an A-hole. And you won’t be alone. I’ll be there with you.”

“Does that plastic gun of yours fire real bullets?”

“I have something better.”

“You gotta flask in your pocket?”

“Better. If you get in a bind, we can provide air cover.”

“Flock of seagulls?”

“Force field. Our collective consciousness can be a powerful shield that will deflect bullets or knives.”

“And how would I summon this force field?”

“Soldier on. Just think it.”

“Boy, that seems to be the answer to everything lately. Just think it. I think Nike missed their calling.”

“There’s still plenty of do that needs doing. Let’s get going.”

Green Army Man’s words of encouragement must have sunk in, for Ray summoned the jets in his suit to speed them to shore.

Emerging from the icy water, Ray looked at the desolate landscape and wondered who could live here.

“I could,” a voice said and Ray turned to see an Inuit in a fur parka. “I am Kallik,” the man said offering his hand through the falling snow. Ray took it and said “Ray Carson, pleased to meet you Kallik.”

“I’ve heard much about you Ray Carson.” 

“All fabrications, I’m sure.”  

“Nonsense. I was just talking with Melville and he told me of your rescue.” 

“And now we have a problem that’s even bigger than he is. So when did you start talking with whales?” 

“Walk with me and I’ll tell you.” Kallik led them down the beach toward a catamaran. “In 1967 as a young man looking for a way out of Greenland, I joined the U.S. Air Force. A year later I was part of the crew on board a B-52 bomber on a chrome dome mission.” 

“Chrome dome?” 

“Yeah, that’s what we called it. We would have 12 bombers in the air constantly near the Soviet border. It was the cold war after all, and we were a deterrent to them launching a nuclear strike on the U.S.” 

“Does that mean you were armed with nuclear weapons?” 

“That it does. Which was not a good thing on this day. We had a fire on board and when the pilots could no longer see their instruments because of the smoke, we had to abandon ship. All but one of us got off. I was one of the lucky ones.” 

“How do you ‘get off’ a B-52 mid-flight?” 

“Ejector seats. Not an experience I highly recommend. Some of the crew members were able to guide their parachutes toward Thule Air Base, but I had a problem with mine and landed in Baffin Bay. Needless to say, it was cold and I quickly suffered hypothermia and was losing my ability to stay afloat. I was barely conscious when I saw a huge pair of jaws swallow me up. I thought I’d become a whale’s lunch and started to give up hope. Then I heard a reassuring voice inside my head say, “Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you. Just keeping you warm until I can get you somewhere safe.” I thought I’d become delirious due to the cold, but it soon became clear that the whale was talking to me. Telepathically, of course, but it was a hard concept to grasp. I had no choice but to go with the flow, and we started to converse. We learned quite a lot about each other, and it wasn’t long before my new friend delivered me to the shore not far from the air base.” 

“Did you tell the Air Force about this conversation?” 

“Are you kidding? They’d have locked me up and thrown away the key. I made no mention of the whale in my report.” 

“What happened to the plane? And more importantly, its payload?” 

“Crashed into the ice about 7 miles from the base sending nuclear debris everywhere.” 

“Yikes. We need to avoid another mishap like that.” 

“I believe that’s why you’re here,” Kallik said as they walked from the beach onto a dock by the sailboat.

“Welcome to Garfield,” he said as they boarded the catamaran. 

“Wow, this is some cat,” I said taking in the sleek sailing vessel. 

“It can travel on both water and ice, making it particularly useful for us right now. We’ll sail to the mainland and then across the ice cap to our rendezvous point.” 

Ray knocked at the hull of the ship wondering what it was made of. 

“Graphene,” Kallik responded. “Ten times stronger than steel, and extremely lightweight. My son and his team at MIT made it with our mission in mind. Speaking of which, we ought to be going.” 

As if by magic, the boat left its mooring on the beach and made its way toward the open sea.  

“How is Garfield powered? I don’t hear an engine.” 

“When we’re not sailing, Garfield runs on batteries. Thanks to Elon Musk.” 

“Elon Musk? As in Tesla and Spacex?”

“There are many great minds behind our mission, Ray.”

“Maybe if we don’t succeed, he could fly us all to Mars.” The dark humor was lost on Kallik.

“While I’d love to see Mars, I’m afraid failure is not an option in this case.”

“Who else knows about our mission? Sounds like I was the last to know.” 

“Terra has been grooming Green Army for years. But until your spirit was awakened, we’d been missing a vital link.” 

“How’s that?” 

“You alone can communicate with all the forces of nature. Green Army has been waiting for a leader. And you arrived in the nick of time.” 

“A good part of me still thinks you got the wrong guy.” 

“Let’s hope not.” 

As those words sunk in, Garfield’s sails unfurled and the catamaran sped through the water.  

“Who’s driving this thing, anyway,” Ray asked. 

“I am,” Kallik answered. 

“But how? I haven’t seen you touch a button or grab a rudder or a wheel.” 

“The hood of my parka houses a network of receptors that transmit my thoughts to the onboard computer.” 

“So you just have to think, “Take me to Greenland,” and the boat responds?” 

“In simple terms, yes.” 

“Wow. Another case of Just think it.” 

“I believe Think fast would be a better mantra moving forward.” 

“Garfield is certainly thinking fast. You should compete in The America’s Cup with this vessel.” 

“I believe we have more important races to run.” 

As they raced over the open water, Ray became acutely aware of the need for speed in accomplishing their objective. 

“Come, we should eat. You never know when we’ll get another chance.” 

Down in the galley, Kallik took a couple of burgers out of the freezer and put them in a frying pan. 

“What are the burgers made of? Seal? Caribou?”  

“Soy,” Kallid said.  

“I thought you Inuit ate things like whale and walrus and polar bears.” 

“Gave ‘em up for Lent. There’s no reason on Earth human beings should still be eating other animals. It’s not only barbaric, it’s fueling climate disruption. And besides, we now have great-tasting plant-based alternatives.” 

Ray bit into the burger and was amazed by the beefy taste and texture. “This is really good!” 

“Good for you. Good for the planet.” 

“So you have a son at MIT. Any other kids?” 

“Funny you should ask. My daughter works for Impossible Foods, the company that made these burgers.” 

“That’s great. What does your wife do?” 

“Anjij watches over us. She died of cancer eleven years ago. We suspect it was from the radioactive fallout from B-52 crash. She lived not far from the crash site.” 

“So sorry to hear. How did you two meet?” 

“I like to think Melville was our matchmaker. After rescuing me at sea, he dropped me at shore where Anjij was waiting. I had sustained some injuries while ejecting from the plane and was near death by the time Melville got to me. He kept my spirit alive with his singing while transporting me to shore, where Anjij nursed me back to health. In the process, we fell in love.” 

At the mention of love, Ray thought of Helen and wondered what she was up to. He missed her. 

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Kallik said, reading his thoughts. “Let’s see where we are.” 

Kallik led them into a cabin off the galley with a large display mapping their progress.  

“So your batteries power the ship and everything on it, but I didn’t see a plug or power source when we were on shore.” 

“Garfield’s sails are sun-catchers. The fabric is embedded with photovoltaic cells that turn the sun’s light into electricity. That in turn is stored in the batteries lining our hull.” 

“Brilliant.” 

“Iceberg spotted ahead,” a familiar voice barked from the boat’s sound system. 

“My God, that sounded like Waze, the traffic app I use.” 

“SeaWaze,” Kallik said. “Invented for us by a team at X, Google’s moonshot factory. Comes in handy. Let’s go up on deck and take a look at the iceberg. We have a very shallow draft so we can get rather close without risk of hitting it. 

The hulking block of ice was a towering presence above the water. 

“There’s far more of it below the surface. This is a substantial piece of ice that was part of the mainland yesterday. We see the calving of icebergs with increasing frequency these days. It’s rather unsettling.” 

“I can imagine.” 

As they navigated around the giant floating island of ice, Ray could see the mainland in the distance. Along with a dynamic view of the sea ahead of them, the screen displayed a wealth of data including their speed.

“200 knots? Holy ship!”

“Between the wind, the aerodynamic hull and the solar powered jet propulsion, Garfield can move rather effortlessly across the water. And when we get to the ice, we’ll go even faster.”

“What’s that on the screen?” Ray asked pointing to some objects on the horizon that were growing larger.

“What the heck?” Kallik zoomed in on them and it appeared to be a flotilla of oil tankers. “They’re trying to block our approach.”

“Who’s they?” Ray asked.

“Most likely Hedd and his cronies in the Xeros.”

“The barricade seems to go on forever. How will we get around them?”

“We won’t.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“We’ll go under them.”

“Don’t tell me this is a submarine too.”

“Musk thought of everything when he was building Garfield. The sails and mast retract with the push of a button and the twin hulls function as ballast tanks that fill with seawater in order to submerge. As long as there’s room between the hull of the tanker and the seabed, we should be fine.”

“And if there isn’t?”

“Can you say Exxon Valdez?”

“I’d rather not…”

Kallik’s hands moved across the control console like a concert pianists, and Ray saw the monitor display multiple frames showing the sails retracting, the masts reclining and the ship submerging. Garfield slowed to 50 knots as it began its descent, but it still came dangerously close to colliding with the tanker in its way.

On the screen Ray saw a couple of objects appear in the water.

“What are those?”

“Depth charges I’m afraid.”

“Since when do oil tankers carry depth charges?” Almost instinctively, Ray knew what he had to do.

“SOLDIER ON!” he said activating the force field green army man had told him about. One explosion after another boomed through Garfield’s hulls rocking the boat violently as it descended below the tanker’s hull.

“Damage report!” Kallik said and Garfield began spitting data. “Leak in Starboard bow,” was Garfield’s overriding assessment. “Repair,” Kallik said and Garfield acknowledged, “Repair underway.”

“Wow,” Ray said. “Garfield repairs itself?”

“To a degree,” said Kallik. “As long as the breach isn’t too large.”

“Smart boat.”

“Yes, but until the repair is made, one of our hulls is taking on water and we’re heading to the seabed. An unfortunate delay.”

“WARNING!” Garfield barked. “Depth charges in water.”

“SOLDIER ON!” Ray shouted, hoping that the Green Army Man in his pocket could once again channel the protective shield of common consciousness.

A blast echoed through the cabin sending the boat sideways and flipping it over. Ray and Kallik fell to the roof of the cabin and struggled to reorient themselves as icy seawater poured in and the boat settled upside down on the sea floor. The water continued to rise replacing the air in the cabin until they were up to their eyeballs sucking in a last deep breath. “Stay calm,” Kallik said before they were submerged.

While Ray’s instinct was to panic, he could sense the calming presence of both Kallik and the collective consciousness emanating from Green Army Man. Before going under he remembered his suit had a helmet and he thought, “Helmet on.” He breathed in the fresh oxygen filling his helmet and wondered how Kallik would survive without one.

But Kallik looked remarkably collected as he sat underwater in a meditative pose with his eyes closed.

“How long can you stay like that without breathing?” Ray telepathed.

“The record for men is 11 minutes 35 seconds. I would like to break the Guinness World Record if it comes to that.”

“To hell with the record, I’ll just take a Guinness,” Ray replied.

“Main cabin repair complete, evacuating water,” Garfield said, though it was garbled coming through the water, which was quickly being replaced by air.

“I guess the previous record will stand,” Ray thought out loud.

“Hallelujah,” the Inuit replied silently.

When the water receded, Kallik said to Ray, “Now we have to right the ship.”

“How do you propose we do that?”

“Well, we could summon a whale if one is nearby, but I have another idea. Grab hold of something.” Ray found a railing to grasp and Kallik said, “Garfield, raise the main mast.”

“Raising the mast, captain.”

The boat started to tilt as the mast pressed against the sea floor. Suddenly they were off the roof and the boat was standing on its port hull.

“Now what?” Ray wondered.

“Garfield, pump air into the port hull and water into the starboard.”

As Garfield did as Kallik commanded, the boat righted itself.

“View above,” he said and the huge hull of the oil tanker appeared on the screen. “They’re still up there. We’ll have to run silent and deep till we get to the coast. With any luck, we’ll stay out of depth charge range.”

“I can’t wait to see what’s waiting for us on shore,” Ray said dripping with sarcasm.

They wouldn’t have to wait long. Garfield moved swiftly underwater until the depth got shallow and the ice got nearer.

“How will we get from the water to the ice cap?”

“With a little help from our friends,” Kallik replied with a smile.

As they surfaced, Ray noticed they weren’t alone. For as far as the eye could see, Belugas and Narwhals surrounded the boat.

“Wow, I’ve never seen a Narwhal before. They’re magnificent!”

As he said this, a large Narwhal sidled up to the boat and stuck his ten-foot tusk toward Ray. Ray reached out and gently grabbed the tusk giving it a light shake. “Pleased to meet you,” he said.

“Pleased to meet you, Ray,” the narwhal thought back at him. “I’m Tusky. Let’s get you guys onto the ice.”

Tusky led them around some icebergs that were calving off the glacier and into an area were the narwhals and belugas were working on what appeared to be a ramp leading from the water to the ice cap.

“Nice work, Tusky,” Kallik said admiring the feat. “Garfield, raise sails and head for that ramp.”

As the sails unfurled, the boat picked up speed and rocketed toward the on ramp. Dozens of belugas surrounded the boat and seemed to lift it onto the ramp, assisted by the wind in the sails. In moments, they were on the ice cap.

“Thank you!” both Ray & Kallik shouted back at Tusky. Tusky raised his long tusk and waved it back and forth. “Good luck guys!”

“How long till we meet up with Hartwig?” Ray asked Kallik.

“Around 4 am,” Kallik said. “You should get some sleep.”

At the thought of it, a wave of weariness rose up in Ray and he began to yawn. “Not a bad idea,” he confessed, and Kallik showed him to his room. Ray lay down and noticed the mattress was still soggy from the flood they had in the cabin. But before it could bother him, he was asleep.

CHAPTER 10

While most of his rest was deep and dreamless, as morning approached, Ray found himself dreaming of Helen. They were on the beach in front of his grandmother’s house. He could hear the lullaby of the waves and the sun warming his entire body. Squinting, he turned his head to look at Helen beside him and the warmth of the sun on his skin was met by a warmth coming from inside him. It engulfed him in a peaceful euphoria that he wanted to last forever. And then suddenly the sun was blocked out and everything cooled down. Moments later they were engulfed by a tsunami trapped them underwater and catapulted them through the seaglass window into the house that was now inundated and uprooted and rocketing toward oblivion. He reached for Helen’s hand but as he did the house broke apart and she was carried off in another direction. Ray screamed her name waking himself up.

“Who’s Helen?” asked Kallik standing in the doorway.

“Just a friend,” Ray said.

“Like hell,” Kallik mumbled, shaking his head. “There’s coffee in the galley.”

“Thanks Kallik. I take it it’s been smooth sailing so far?

“We’re making good time. We’ll be at NEEM before nightfall. And then the fireworks begin.”

“Well let’s hope we can avoid the big fireworks,” Ray said, thinking of the bomb that must not go off. He hoped his dream wasn’t a sign of things to come.

“Good morning captain,” Ray heard Green Army Man telepath. “I have a message from Hartwig: Look forward to making your acquaintance at rendezvous point at 1600.”

Ray looked at Kallik. “Are we still good to meet up with Hartwig at 4 o’clock?”

“The wind has been a great help. Barring unforeseen circumstances, I expect we’ll be early.”

“Tell Hartwig we’ll be there,” Ray telepathed Green Army Man. “With ribbons in our hair.”

“Captain, I’m not sure a polar bear will understand that last sentiment.”

“Well then make it ribbons in our fur.”

“Aye.”

Ray got out of bed and made his way to the galley. After pouring a cup, he joined Kallik in the command center.

Looking at the screen, all Ray could see was white stretching out as far as the eye can see. Noting the speed of 450 knots, he said, “Boy, we’re flying.”

“Good to have friends in high places,” Kallik said.

A portion of the screen displayed where they were on a map. Ray could see both NEEM and the rendezvous point with Hartwig. And then he saw another dot moving toward NEEM. “Is that them?” he asked, pointing at it.

“That’s Hedd and the Xeros on the inland traverse. It seems they’re making good time as well. We project their arrival at NEEM at 4:20.”

“How long will it take us after we meet up with Hartwig?”

“Ten minutes.”

“That’s cutting it close. Can we get this thing to move any faster?”

“If you can convince the wind to blow a little harder.”

Ray closed his eyes and envisioned the wind picking up. As he did, the speedometer inched up beyond 500 knots. “That’s better,” he said.

“Not bad for a blowhard,” Kallik tried his hand at humor.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Hey Seinfeld, I’m curious: If we can see them on our radar, can they not see us?”

“Garfield uses stealth technology to minimize visibility, but it’s hard to totally disguise a vessel moving at 500 knots. If they’re looking for us, they can probably find us.”

“Let’s hope they don’t have a rocket launcher on board.”

“Or a drone overhead.”

“After the oil tanker incident, I wouldn’t put either past them. Green Army Man, soldier on.”

“Aye, captain.” Green Army Man summoned the collective consciousness force field which had never been tested by a rocket before.

They sped along in silence wondering when the Xeros would next strike.

They didn’t have to wait long. Green Army Man telepathed, “Incoming.”

Kallik saw the rocket approaching on the monitor and tried maneuvering Garfield in a zigzag to see if they could avoid a direct hit.

An explosion rocked the boat but appeared to be largely deflected by the force field.

“Another incoming,” Green Army Man alerted them. “The field may not recharge in time to deflect the next one.”

“Now you tell me,” Ray replied, distraught. “Terra, can you help?”

Suddenly he and Kallik were thrown sideways and wound up on the floor. “WTF?” said Ray.

On the monitor, their position had shifted and the rocket tried to correct its course narrowly avoiding them and exploding on the ice cap off the port bow.

The explosion threw them the other way now, but the ship was still intact.

“How did you do that?” Ray asked Terra.

“You’ve never felt the earth move before?”

“Only looking at Helen,” he quipped. “Thanks, Terra.”

“You’re welcome, Ray. “I’ve got to run. Some cattle ranchers are burning down more of the Amazon rainforest. Good luck, and call me if you need me.”

“Thanks Terra,” Ray said, wondering how many environmental battles are being fought around the world.

“Ray, we’re nearing the rendezvous point,” Kallik said. “Let’s introduce you to Hartwig and company.”

Ray and Kallik left the comforts of the cabin and braved the elements on Garfield’s deck. The weather wasn’t bad, but at the speed they were sailing the wind chill was severe.

“Soldier on,” Ray telepathed Green Army Man, curious as to whether the force field would shield them from the wind. He didn’t have to wait long to find out. The wind seemed to part before them and they were engulfed in stillness, like the eye of a hurricane.

“Handy expression,” Kallik said, raising an eyebrow at Ray.

Up ahead the horizon became bumpy and started to move. A white wave seemed to be rolling toward them and as Kallik slowed Garfield to a crawl, Ray could make out that the wave was the polar bear army. There had to be a hundred of them. “More of a platoon than an army,” Ray thought to himself. But still, he couldn’t help but feel a deep-down fear being so close to so many powerful predators.

“Ray, meet Hartwig,” Kallik said as Garfield slowed to a stop. “Hartwig, Ray Carson.”

A giant polar bear that was leading the pack looked directly at Ray and he heard him say “G’day, Ray.”

“Hello Hartwig,” Ray telepathed. “Since when do polar bears have Australian accents?”

“I’ve been spending too much time with Peter Garrett.”

“The lead singer of Midnight Oil?”

“I’ve known him since I was just a cub. He’s a true champion of animal rights. He was also Australia’s minister for the environment.”

“Australia’s on the other side of the world from Greenland. How did you two meet?”

“Story for another day.” Hartwig’s telepathic tone got more serious.

“What’s our battle plan?”

“I was hoping you had some ideas there, mate.”

“Matter of fact, I do,” Ray said, getting on his knees and drawing in the snow with his gloved hands. “Here is the NEEM camp, here’s the bomb on the inland traverse, and here we are, right between the two. If we can stop the traverse in its tracks and gain control of the big snowcat, we eliminate the bomb threat.”

“And how do you propose we stop the traverse?”

“Maybe you and your army form a blockade. They’re not going to run over a bunch of polar bears.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“When they stop, I’ll board the snowcat carrying the bomb and take control.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be easy. It will be heavily protected by the Xeros. You’ll not only be outnumbered, your powers will be limited inside the cat. I think you’re better off getting them off the vehicles and onto the ice where your allies can be more effective.”

“You’ve got a point there, Hartwig. But it would be naïve to think they won’t be armed. I worry there could be some bloodshed.”

“We’re prepared for that and know sacrifices will be made. But the alternative ain’t any better. The Arctic ice is disappearing at an alarming rate, and if Greenland’s ice cap goes, it’ll only hasten our demise. It’s now or never, I’m afraid.”

“You’re a brave bear,” Ray thought.

“Back at ya,” Hartwig thought. “Rather than a blockade, we might try an ambush of sorts. Our scouts have spotted a crevasse in their path that should bring them to a halt and force them to get out of their vehicle to construct a makeshift bridge that will enable the tractor to cross the crevasse. That will give us an opportunity to, shall we say, thin their ranks.”

“Why wouldn’t they just go around the crevasse?”

“It stretches for miles and would be a significant detour. My guess is they’ll be too eager to get to the Neem Camp to delay their arrival.”

“What if we could disguise the crevasse? Maybe their tractor would get stuck in it, or better yet, swallowed up.”

“Not a bad idea there, Ray. But how do you propose we do that?”

“A severe snowstorm might obscure it enough that they won’t see it until it’s too late to avoid it.”

“My weather senses are pretty good. I don’t feel a storm on the horizon.”

“What if we make one?”

“How’s that?”

“The weather is on our side. As is the Earth itself. We just need to summon their help at the right time.”

“If that’s the case, maybe the crevasse could open a bit wider and swallow the entire vehicle.”

“As long as it doesn’t swallow the bomb. That would kind of defeat the purpose, eh?”

“Good point.”

Ray focused on telepathing Terra asking for help, but a voice inside his head said, “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“What? Who’s that?”

“We haven’t met yet, but I have a feeling it won’t be long. Allow me to introduce myself: Richard Hedd.”

“Well allow me to call you Dick.”

“You wouldn’t be the first. But face it, Ray, you and your tribe of polar bears are no match for the Xeros. So why don’t you mosey on back to Montauk where you belong?”

“And why don’t you get out of my head, dickhead.”

With that, Ray severed his telepathic connection with Richard Hedd and focused on conjuring up a sizable blizzard. The wind picked up. The temperature dropped. And the snow began to fall.

Soon there were near white out conditions, and Ray had trouble making out Hartwig nearby. The polar bear’s white fur blended in with the snow and the landscape.

“I’m here, Ray,” he heard Hartwig telepath. “Nice work on the storm. Now what?”

“I don’t know. I’m making this up as I go.”

“Well get your crevasse in gear.”

“Let’s get over there so we can get the jump on them should they get out of their vehicles.”

“I’ll stay with the ship if you don’t mind,” said Kallik, as Ray, Hartwig and the polar bear army made their way toward the crevasse.

CHAPTER 10

The blizzard made the going slow, but Ray’s helmet provided him a GPS view of the landscape, complete with the crevasse and the vehicles approaching it. And the polar bears seemed to know where they were going.

But the Xeros must have also had some sophisticated equipment on board. The vehicles slowed before reaching the crevasse, and a dozen mercenaries began hauling something out of the back of the tractor that looked a flat metal sheet that would bridge the crevasse.

“We don’t have much time,” Ray thought.

Hartwig sprang into motion with a small army of polar bears behind him. They caught the men working on the bridge unawares. Most of them were so horrified, they leapt into the crevasse rather than facing the wrath of the polar bears.

Then the lead vehicle lurched forward toward the makeshift bridge. Ray saw Hartwig trying to dislodge the metal sheet from the ice and yelled, “HARTWIG WATCH OUT!”

But it was too late. The tractor plowed into the polar bear sending him off the side of the bridge and into the crevasse.

Ray raced toward the crevasse and with the aid of the wind got there in seconds. Hartwig was nowhere to be found and the tractor was nearly across the crevasse.

“Ray, I’m fine,” he heard Hartwig telepath. “Stop that tractor.”

“Where are you?” Ray asked.

“In the crevasse. Don’t worry about me.”

Ray peered down into the cavernous split in the ice cap. “Why can’t I see you?”

Out of the corner of his eye he caught some movement, and it was Hartwig’s hefty paw waving. His other paw had a tenuous grasp on the ice shelf about ten feet down.

“I got you,” Ray said and began to descend over the edge of the crevasse.

“Don’t worry about me, go after that bomb.”

“All in due time my furry friend.”

Ray was able to stand on the shelf that Hartwig had his claws dug into and grabbed his free paw. He pulled with all his might, but the big polar bear was just too heavy.

“Terra, help me out here. What can I do?”

“Not you again. Just kidding. You know I’d move heaven and earth for you. And in this case ice.”

Hartwig felt his paws gain a foothold in the moving ice as the crevasse narrowed and he climbed out with Ray’s help.

“Can we get on with the more important business?” Hartwig said. “We’ve got to stop that tractor.”

Epic battle ensues