Stone Age (3 page)

Dr. Carrington Reid

10:00 P.M.

Salt Lake City, Utah

Dr. Carrington Reid was predestined for this work, or at least it seemed this way.  Like him, both his father and grandfather were solar
astrophysicists, and were fans of Dr. Richard Carrington, an amateur astronomer who recorded the flare event on September 2
nd
1859 that bore his name.  He was such a devotee that his father even named him Carrington.  His father would take him all over the world to exotic locations and observatories to study solar flares, pulses, and coronal mass ejections or CME’s.  Carr, as his father often called him, loved the excitement of the travel, but most of all, he loved the science.  Exploring science today was as the New World was to explorers Perry and Livingston; full of all the thrill and adventure of making new discoveries. 

His interest in the science and the thrill of new discoveries was indeed part of his genetic makeup, but his passion and drive were born from a desire to prepare humanity for a much anticipated cataclysmic event.  Reluctantly, he was the biggest cheerleader and promoter of his own discoveries and theories, many of which were not shared by his peers, due to their eschatological bent.  His actions earned him a bit of a reputation
, most of which was not good.   He didn’t care, as long as he achieved his goals of preparing the world and providing ample warning of the next Carrington-sized CME.  This was why he had formed the CME Research Institute.

His thinking was that, if he brought in other scientists and students, who shared a common focus of study, coronal mass ejections and solar flares and their deleterious effect on Earth’s inhabitants, they would be able to learn more about the science and continually warn the world so it could prepare for the inevitable.  Science was the necessary part of CMERI’s mission, and it included creating new advances in notifications when new solar flare or CME events occurred, as well as simply making new discoveries.

Dr. Reid’s first notable discovery was on April 9, 2008, when he recorded an amazing cartwheel CME.    He remembered it as if it was yesterday.  A billion-ton cloud of gas launched itself off the surface of the sun and then did a cartwheel.  It pirouetted out of the sun’s limb in full view of the Kit Peak National Observatory in Arizona, first doing a cartwheel and then a backflip; a gymnastic routine, which had never been witnessed before in recorded history. 

He was the first scientist to show that the magnetic flux tube expelled from the sun began to heal itself, a magnetic reconnection also a new first in recorded science.  The data recorded from their Solar Dynamics Observatory or SDO, and from several satellites, along with their twelve scientists and students from the local university formed the basis for his Institute in Salt Lake City, and the many discoveries he had made since.

Each event or discovery created an opportunity to share publicly, with warnings attached through his website, social media, and press relations.  The press loved him because of his apocalyptic predictions and his “out there” theories. 

Dr. Reid was also the first scientist to hypothesize that the Earth would experience a Carrington sized CME within the next ten years.  Many of his peers pilloried his theories and attempted to ruin his reputation, calling him a crackpot and fear monger.  Although most had been silenced over the past couple of years, as many of his theories proved correct, few had embraced his dire prognostications.

Then in 2012, it happened.  A solar flare was released from the sun which was bigger than the Carrington Flare was, by almost 50%.  It was just dumb luck that the enormous CME emitted subsequently missed the Earth entirely.  Had it been discharged a couple days sooner or later, the Earth would have been brought back to a new Stone Age.  We were lucky then, but
it looks like our luck may have run out
, he lamented.

He looked at the data from multitudes of sources, and the analysis from his scient
ists, again and again, but the result was always the same.  This time was one that he wished science supported one of his doubting peers and could prove him wrong.  The current solar activity appeared to be far more excessive than had been estimated in this expiring solar cycle.  He was frankly more than a little worried about the potential CMEs that were going to be launched.  They might be even worse than the Carrington Flare which would be devastating to his generation’s world.

Miguel

6:00 P.M.

Rocky Point, Mexico

I make mucho people angry at me
, Miguel Fernandez thought to himself, feeling a growing nervousness about being late.  This was the second time in a month he caused his band to be tardy for a gig.  Miguel was pretty sure Lupita would yell and dock his band’s pay for it.  His wife Maria would be disappointed if this happened and so would his band.  Worse of all, Señor Max would be disappointed. 

Miguel knew he was pushing it by spending that extra time with Maria and their unborn baby, Anna, who would enter this world in the next two weeks.  He just couldn’t interrupt his solo.  It was his special engagement, at a far more important venue than any his band played, certainly more than Lupita’s bar/restaurant.   He was playing “La Consecuencia” to his daughter, whose applause was
her happily kicking in Maria’s abdomen and his wife’s tender kisses of appreciation.  There could be no better payment for his music. 

Then, mindlessly, Miguel left his guitar by Maria’s bedside and was a mile away before realizing it, causing Pedro to turn the car around to retrieve it.  Pedro and Juan, his older brothers and part of
Los Hermanos Mariachi, picked him up every night for work.

“Lupita is going to kill us for being late,” Juan said, as Miguel got back into the car, this time with his well-worn guitar.

“Com permiso?” Miguel asked plaintively to his brothers.

Although Miguel was related to Lupita, when it came to the business of her restaurant, it meant nothing.  Lupita’s closeness to Señor Max was the difference of his losing some pay versus being fired.  Miguel could not shoulder the loss of this job.  With Maria not working recently because of the pregnancy, they were saving every peso they could get their hands on.

Praise Jesus for Señor Max
.  He had always taken care of him and Maria, starting with that first day they met many years ago, when he was barely 20, without a job, before Maria.   

There had been a gang of cholos from the local cartel.  For no reason, other than his being at the wrong place at the wrong time, they started picking on him.  Miguel had never run away from a fight, but this was four to one, and they had knives.  He instantly grasped the trouble he was in and desperately looked for a way out, but there was none.  The rest happened so quickly, it was mostly a blur.  He remembered seeing one of the gang advancing on him with what looked like a machete.  Then, this stranger, he later learned was Max, came out of nowhere.  In less time than it took to recognize what happened, Max removed their knives and reduced these “bad asses,” as Max referred to them, to whimpering children who ran away in fear for their lives. 

He later heard a story that Max had made a personal visit to the cartel leader, returning the knives and making a payment of restitution.  The cartel leader was so impressed by Max’s cojones that he let him live, even though Max had embarrassed his people, one of whom was the cartel leader’s son.

After this, Max found Miguel and his brothers this gig at Lupita’s restaurant, along with many odd jobs over the last few years.  Recently, he and Max had taken trips to Max’s ranch in Chihuahua or worked on his house at Dorado Beach.   He never asked any questions, sure that Max was involved in something not quite agreeable with Mexican law, but otherwise, he knew Max was a good man.

Maria was another direct benefactor of Max’s unending kindness by helping her to launch her cleaning business, before they were even married.  Max provided the materials to help him remodel their house, even helping him build what he called a “special room,” that they still did not understand.  No matter, they were truly blessed to have Señor Max looking out for them.

They pulled into the dirt parking lot and drove right to the back door, parking a meter away.  Lupita was standing outside, waiting for them. Her angry eyes pierced holes through their dusty windshield, staring straight at Miguel. 

They exited the car, grabbing their equipment sheepishly, but quickly headed directly towards Lupita.

“You’re late!”  Lupita yelled to her second cousin.

Arrival

6:30 P.M.

Tucson, Arizona

Sally first saw her mom and dad on the remote monitor, walking down the concourse towards the waiting area.  
First ones off the plane
, she chortled to herself, while shaking her head in mock disbelief.  
That’s definitely Mom
.  She is the Type A of the couple.  “Everyone needs a Type A,” her dad would always say in support of his wife whenever someone made a quip about their punctuality or one of her many lists.  She was always organized, enough for the both of them.   She remembered when her mom readied her for school.  Everything had a label: her food, her books, even her dang clothes.  It was embarrassing. 

As an adult now, she realized how great Mom’s methods were.  In fact, she had adopted many of the same habits throughout most of her professional and personal life.  Perhaps that was why she was still single. 

She thought her last boyfriend might be “the one,” but after a fiery argument and break-up a few weeks ago, she was left to consider once again what she might have done wrong.   It always made her mad after a breakup, with each beau essentially wanting her to change her ways to conform to his own lack of flexibility to change his ways.   What angered her most was that she was made to feel guilty. 
Why am I the one who has to change?  Was your life so damned perfect
? 

She was starting to get mad again.  This is why she thought a break from work and hanging at the family’s Mexico beach house was a great idea.  She was against it at first, what with all the work she had to do and Dylan’s needs.  During one of her weekly phone calls with Mom, she relented to the pressure of spending time with her family.   Now, the idea felt great and the timing even better with Dylan out of her life.

All week, she had been excited about getting to the beach and spending time with both her mom and dad. 
Yes, she loved her parents
and enjoyed spending time with them
.  The fact that Dar and Danny were coming later was the icing on the cake, or should she say honey on the sopapillas, since she was headed to Mexico?

There they were coming down the escalator together, holding hands, as always.  The consummate couple, one of the many things she loved about them.   A large smile formed on her face. 
Could she really be this excited about seeing her parents
? 
What was she, a freshman in college
?  Her mom saw her first.

“There she is!”  Lisa screamed.  “On time, just like I taught her.  Honey, we are so glad you decided to join us,” Lisa yelled loudly, as she dismounted the escalator, embracing Sally and blocking the way for all others to pass through the protective gate.

“Come on, you two, you’re not the only people in the airport,” Bill said, while inviting his daughter with his outstretched arms.

“Hi, Daddy,” she said softly, accepting his bear hug. 

“You wanna go to Mexico?” Lisa yelled to her daughter and husband.

~~~

“You kept Stanley in great shape, honey,” Bill yelled from the back seat.

“Thanks, Dad.  I still remember the day you taught me how to tune up my first car.” Sally yelled back.

“You having problems with the back window?”  Bill yelled again.

“I’m waiting for a part from Mike.  He says it should come in next week.  Sorry it’s so loud back there.”

It was a lot louder than normal in the back of her 1992 Chevy Blazer.  Its oversized tires, which were better suited to four-wheeling than highway driving, created a loud vibrating ambient noise that made it hard enough to hear.  Additionally, the passenger window, on the driver’s side was open a crack, allowing the 75 MPH air to scream through the narrow gap.  He tried to close it but it was cranked as far as it could go.  “Sorry, you’ll have to live with that window being slightly open.”  Sally yelled after seeing her father attempt in vain to close the window.  “I hope you don’t mind.”

He didn’t.  In spite of its age and the occasional replacement of parts, like the window crank, he loved this vehicle.  He bought it new in 1991; bare bones with no extras.  It was his first new vehicle and he bought it to go hunting with his buddies up in Wisconsin.  He rebuilt the engine and even changed out the electronic ignition system for a more reliable points system.  He liked a car engine he could work on in the field if a problem arose.  It served him well for many years, until ten years ago, when he gave it to Sally, who inherited his love for working on vehicles.  She babied it more than he had.  Besides giving it the name Stanley, the reason why escaped him, she tricked up the suspension and added the tires so that she could off-road around the deserts of Tucson.   She even kept their mechanic Mike, who had to be about 70 by now.  He had found him for her when he drove Stanley down to Tucson many years ago, so that she would always have someone to look over the vehicle when she didn’t take the time to do so herself.

From the back seat, Bill could see all of Stanley’s outward blemishes; window crank not working, seats starting to crack from years of exposure to the dry desert air, carpet showing its age and stains from the occasional dropped soda can of a passenger, but he knew the bones were in great shape.  In other words, it was perfect.  Sally made more than enough money to buy a brand new 4X4, but Stanley was a known commodity, they knew was dependable and it held sentimental value.  She was proud of it and its connection to her father.  He smiled at these thoughts and was surprised to see that Sally was smiling back at him through the rearview mirror, perhaps having the same thoughts.

“Are you sure Stanley is safe all the way to Mexico?” Lisa spoke up from the front passenger seat, barely audible, but intruding somewhat on their shared moment.

“Mommm,” she exaggerated with all the drama she did when she was just a child.  “You know how well I keep up with Stanley’s care.  Besides, I drove him down in January with Stephanie.  Remember?”  Sally responded defensively.

“Yes…  ust …ot ...re why you don’t buy some--g …this century that gets more than 10 miles to t—g--n,” Lisa continuing her new car argument, as she did every time she rode in Stanley.  Bill was straining to hear the conversation, even though he’d heard this many times before.  Lisa obviously didn’t feel safe in an older vehicle.  She didn’t understand the emotional connection Bill and Sally had for this vehicle.  Besides, if there was a problem, they were much more likely to be able to get parts in Mexico for Stanley than for some of the newer vehicles.

“It’s
sixteen miles to the gallon
.  I thought you and Dad liked Stanley.”

“We do,” Bill interrupted.  “You know your mom.  She just worries about the “what ifs” especially when driving to Mexico.”

Less than three hours after pulling out from the airport, Sally slowed down and pulled them into the Indian casino parking lot in Why, Arizona, as always for a potty stop and so Bill and Sally could switch places.  Sally didn’t care for the Mexico leg, even though she’d done it probably 20 times over the years.  Mostly, she didn’t like driving at night after almost losing control, swerving to avoid a cow in the road some years back.  It was long past sunset, and this moonless night was dark.

Less than a mile down the road, they rested at the stop sign at the T in the road.  Bill turned and posed a rhetorical question that was obvious to his family, “You know what time it is?”  He held out his hand.  Sally, on cue, reached from the back seat, across her mom to the glove box and pulled out what she knew would be there, a much worn CD case.  She opened it and handed him the CD.  He inserted it into the player Sally added a few years back and put the Blazer into gear.  He steered them South on Highway 85 towards Lukeville, Arizona, the border town to Sonoyta, Mexico.

The familiar beat started, with its guitars, steel drums, and then harmonica.

“Nibblin on sponge cake.  Watching the sun bake,” all three sang out in happy unison, continuing the tradition, they started so many years ago.  Always at this turn, when they were really headed towards Mexico, even though it was still 25 miles to the border, and 89 to Rocky Point, they would start singing Jimmy Buffett’s
Margaritaville
.

“
Wastin away again in Margaritaville.  Searching for my lost jigger of salt.  Salt.  Salt.  Salt
.”

Sally leaned back while mouthing the words that she knew by heart. 

She opened her purse, anxious to take advantage of the last of her US cell service.  She pulled out her iPhone and typed out a text message to her sister, “We’re singing Mville now.  Will b xing border soon.  CU and D next week on beach.  Pls email after this.  Kisses.”

She didn’t realize it until later, but this was the last text message she would ever send her sister.

~~~

After passing through the military checkpoint around eleven, they headed East on highway 37 about 6 miles to a turn-off down a hard-packed, sandy road for a couple of miles to a development called, Playa Dorado and their beach home.

Puerto Penasco, now known as Rocky Point or RP to the Americans, who resided or vacationed there, was a small fishing village a couple of dozen years ago.  Because of its proximity to Tucson and Phoenix, land-locked desert dwellers flocked to Rock Point for two reasons, which made it unique and greatly desired:  an ocean and beaches.  In fact, the miles of sandy beaches, the Sea of Cortez’s warm waters, between Baja California and the western inlet of Mexico, and warmer still, the Mexican people were a big draw for Americans.  Infamously, Al Capone favored RP for the same reasons.  That and its foreign port to smuggle liquor through Arizona was appealing to him.  Afterwards, mostly vagabonds, partiers, or anglers from Arizona or California, were its frequent visitors, until the 1990s when Mexican law changed, making it easier for foreign investment, especially in beach towns like RP.  Then the building boom came, adding thousands of resort units and beach homes, drawing Americans from Arizona and California who wanted to buy into a paradise that was only a short drive away. 

Bill and Lisa King had been coming to RP since their college days at the University of Arizona in Tucson, only four hours away.  When they were dating, they would come down with friends and party on a stretch of beach known as Sandy Beach; now home to over one thousand condo units, and further north, a new homeport for cruise ships, recently built by the Mexican government.  Even when they moved to Chicago for Bill’s job and later his current business, they still traveled to RP, even buying a home there that would one day become their place of retirement.  Until then, they and Sally would enjoy it when each was able to, like now.

Like most Julys, they figured that they would be among only the few ‘crazy Americans’ who didn’t care about the heat and wanted to celebrate July 4
th
on Dorado Beach.  Sandy Beach was bloated this time of year with Mexican tourists who flocked from mid-country locations, taking advantage of bargain travel packages sponsored by the condo complexes, whose units were offered for rental.   Most Americans didn’t care for the excessive heat during July through August, and often flocked to the cooler temperatures of the mountains or California beaches.  However, most Mexicans, who had holidays this time of year, didn’t care, as they would rather experience hot temperatures on the beach than inland.  Beach home communities south of downtown RP rarely saw many visitors during the full heat of summer, especially their community of Playa Dorado.

Their beach house was modest by American standards.  It was built of excellent materials and had many modern conveniences, but it lacked one thing that would seem so common and essential to most Americans.  It was not connected to city electricity.  Instead, it was outfitted with the latest solar cells, battery storage units, and a special A/C unit that ran so efficiently that if they were careful with their power, they could actually survive during the summer.  With their pool, lots of shaded areas, and the warm ocean waters, they could enjoy their place even in summer.  It was for these reasons that the Kings loved their piece of paradise.

Often, when Bill and Lisa came down, their next-door neighbor Max Thompson, as well as some of their other neighbors, would join in their many activities.  To afford the Kings privacy, since the beach was always open, Lisa’s rule was, when the curtains are closed,
we want privacy
.   When they are open, it means,
come on over
.  Besides being their neighbor, Max was one of Bill and Lisa’s best friends and certainly their favorite in Mexico.  In fact, Max was like one of the family.  This feeling carried over to their kids who all called him “Uncle Max.”  Max was the one who convinced them to buy in Mexico after renting the house on the other side of him some 20 years ago.

Max also looked after their home, making sure everything worked properly and that workers did what they were supposed to.  One summer, he even fought off a couple of drug dealers who tried to occupy the house.  He never said how he did it, only that they would never be coming back again to bother the house.  Bill knew Max had an in with the local police and maybe even the Federales, but he was always somewhat afraid to ask, honoring his friend’s secrets, of which there were many.  With his connections, it was also not surprising that Max knew everything that was going on in Rocky Point.

Max was also a survivalist, but not the camo-wearing, ready to go crazy at any moment kind of survivalist that most of the media envisioned.  He was known as a “prepper,” as in someone who prepped for the end of the world or for society’s eventually collapse.  Shortly after meeting Max, Bill later understood Max was buying supplies and storing up for the end of the world that he
knew
was right around the corner.  Bill never knew where he kept everything, as his house didn’t look that big.  Nevertheless, almost every time they were down, Max had just returned from a trip where he bought 1000 MREs, or some sort of water storage tank, or 1000 batteries in hermetic enclosures.  As far as he could tell, Bill was the only one Max shared this information with, including his end of the world theories.