Northern Lights

By T. Rico

It was past midnight in Norway when Dante awoke to find his wife Hannah standing by the bedroom window. She was mesmerized by the red glare and high winds pouring into the bedroom from the Northern Lights. The freakish red tornado that touched down in the small town of Fredrikstad on this particular evening; brought with it much more than just a delightful display from the Aurora Borealis. Follow the story of Hannah and Dante as they become chosen by the forerunners to save as many people as they can from the horror that awaits them. Mutations now walk the planet under the emerald colored sky as the battle between good and evil ensues, who will prevail in this story of love and disaster?



Editors comments: The pleasure of this novel is that it is vividly imagined. The reader senses that the writer is really seeing the things he is describing. Thats no small feat. He also has a good instinct for pacing and maintaining suspense.


This book was so good that I got to within 15 pages of the end of the book and decided I didnt want it to end, so I started from the beginning and read it a second time just to prolong the ending.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 3, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481736336

T. Rico

T.Rico resides in New York. He liives with his wife Kim and has two children, Thomas Jason Rico, and Nicholas John Rico. He is an avid science fiction fan and writer. Although able to bring out the 'fear within' of his readers, it is his own fearful imagination that fuels his ability to capture his audience.

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AuthorHouse™ LLC

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2013 by T. Rico. All rights reserved.

Credits:

Cover design and other artist renderings by: Bob Cunningham

What do you fear poem by: Elizabeth Speakman.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/29/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4817-3632-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-3631-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-3633-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013906067

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter 1:     In the Evening

Chapter 2:     What do you Fear?

Chapter 3:     The Light Inside

Chapter 4:     Doctor Jorenby is in

Chapter 5:     A Friendly Smile

Chapter 6:     Beneath the Surface

Chapter 7:     This Love

Chapter 8:     The Awakening

Chapter 9:     Johnny’s Place

Chapter 10:   Shattered Lives

Chapter 11:   Aftermath

Chapter 12:   Solar Night

Chapter 14:   Receptors

Chapter 15:   51.4553129 N., 2.5919023 E

Chapter 16:   In the U.K.

Chapter 17:   The Caverns

Chapter 18:   Brain Parasites

Chapter 19:   The Dead Have Risen

Chapter 20:   CME Day 1

Chapter 21:   CME Day 2

Chapter 22:   Norway Meets U.K.

Chapter 23:   The Julson Event

Chapter 24:   A Beautiful Death

Chapter 25:   The World Grid

Chapter 26:   Peruvian Snow

Chapter 27:   MOTHER

Chapter 28:   The World As We Know It

Epilogue:      5 Years Later

Dedication

This book is dedicated to Helen Rico who is presently 90 years old and showing us how to grow old with beauty and grace. She is an inspiration to all that know her, I had hoped to publish this in time for her to read it; it appears I am too late.

Love you Mom!

And

To my incredible wife, Kim and my two awesome

boys, Tom and Nick

You’ve given my life meaning!

Post Script: Rest in Peace Helen Rico 2/18/22-11/19/12

INTRODUCTION

I often believe, that monsters are under my bed at night. I also think that there could be a zombie apocalypse. But the monsters and zombies that come to us in the night are the very ones we cross paths with every day. There’s so much good on this planet, so much joy and beauty in living life. But evil is out there, waiting and willing to devour all the good that life has to offer, crushing the foundation of our solid and pure souls. Evil acts shouldn’t be viewed as a sign of strength or power, nor should goodness be seen as weakness or passivity. However, there is a struggle going on between the two forces. As a human race, we should empower what is right, and embrace our strengths in love and unity for one another. Stare evil doings and daily atrocities in the face by outweighing their numbers, and demanding a more anorexic evil, one with less power and brawn. Northern Lights was conceived as a representation of the alternative, should hatred and corruption continue to thrive. It’s up to us to make sure that the monsters and zombies stay where they should be, dormant and weak with no fuel for survival.

I hope you enjoy reading this book, as much as I enjoyed writing it.

CHAPTER 1

In the Evening

Hannah and I were startled out of a sound sleep the night she was contacted a few years ago, in December of 2021. People called those that turned The affected ones. The northern lights were brighter than usual on that December 14th. Hannah jumped up and stumbled to the window to see what was causing the flood of a red glowing haze that was pouring into our room. I’ll never forget the look on Hannah’s face as she peered out of the bedroom window of our split-level home in Norway, frozen like a pillar of stone. She looked back at me after a minute of gazing outside, with terror in her eyes. A red glare cascaded in from the window and contoured the profile of her beautiful face, making her normally angelic silhouette appear eerily satanic. The glare danced around her face as she gazed outside; changing colors, fading from red orange to yellow, and deepening into a dark blood red. Her strawberry blond long hair was reflecting the changing hues off the mirror of the dresser next to the window. We hadn’t known why this particular night’s aurora had been brighter than other nights at the time. We felt an extreme heat surging in through the window with the same intensity as the lights. It was apparent that this was no ordinary northern lights spectacular on this particular cool winter’s eve.

Hannah and I were used to seeing the northern lights, having grown up in this small Norway town of Fredrikstad. It was a relatively common event especially in the winter. Depending on where you are, the lights will show every night, every other night or at least a couple times a month entertaining tourists or locals who would host parties to view the aurora borealis. The area that has the best view of the lights in town historically has always been just over the hill across the field from our own property. The darkness of the night blankets the field so heavily you wouldn’t see your hands in front of your face if it weren’t for the sparkling illumination of the stars hanging above.

We’re on about 30 acres of farmland that Hannah’s Mom and Dad left her when they went missing after a car accident back when we were 18. A beautiful piece of property; known as the ‘Thorgen farm.’ My name is Dante Julson. On one side of Fredrickstad, running about 48 kilometers to the south is the River Glomma. Just a few kilometers past that is Oslo. To the north, where our bedroom faces, is a spectacular mountain range. It’s breathtaking during fall foliage season or when the winter clouds eclipse the skies and envelop the range with snow. Out the French doors from the downstairs den, about a hundred yards through the woods, there’s a clearing with a hill that rises up about four stories. Off in the distance, as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but mountains. When Hannah and I were kids, we would climb up to the clearing almost every winter night when the sky was free of clouds. We would hike up the hill with a blanket and a thermos of hot chocolate and snacks, and just lay there and wait. Day turned to dusk, and dusk to night, and the night to a kaleidoscope of colors in the heavens, back dropped by the twinkling stars. We still looked back on those nights as some of our most innocently romantic ones, even though we were just kids at the time. Memories are a friendly foe, they can haunt you, or they can bring a peaceful bliss to your life as you age.

Even if the auroras weren’t active on any particular night, the amount of stars that you could see was mind blowing. There were no lights in the area to drown out their illumination. There appeared to be billions of stars scattered across the velvet black night, dotted like diamonds floating in a dark midnight sea. All the constellations, clustered together since the beginning of time. Many other stars, just hanging in the night sky twinkling away, purely for the enjoyment of countless people captivated by their beauty. As kids, Hannah and I would lie atop the hill and tell each other stories all night long. She would dream of the future and her aspirations. I would tell her stories of aliens and space beings, coming from the night skies to destroy our planet. I loved to tell stories, especially to Hannah. I was sweet on her at an early age and making her laugh or stirring her emotions in any way gave me such a kick. Stories of the inevitable and eventual global destruction we would have to endure would scare her and make her pull closer to me. Some of them were grim stories I would cook up in my head of mutilation and genocide, mass destruction and global contamination. I’ve always had a very vivid imagination when it came to science fiction. It was something I found very hard to contain; the unknown fascinated me. Unidentified flying objects were the focus of my attention, so much so that it sometimes disturbed me in my sleep, to the point where my thoughts and dreams tormented me at times.

Hannah, on the other hand didn’t entertain those same beliefs in alien life that I did, but then again she could sleep like a baby at night. I envied her ability to remain narrow minded on the topic. We’d often debate the issues as to whether or not aliens actually existed; and the evenings’ aurora always got me going. My mind wandering to the universe and all it had to offer. I would often tell her as we gazed at the night sky, look at all the galaxies out there. With all those galaxies in the universe, and all the stars in those galaxies, think of all the planets revolving around them. There just has to be more intelligent life out there. To expect our planet to be the only one to support intelligent life was an ignorant point of view. After all, we are just a small part of this huge Milky Way galaxy. She would just laugh, gently graze my shoulder with her hand, unknowingly filling my heart with joy and love, and say Oh Dante, that’s just crazy. Where do you dream up this stuff? In fact it was my dreams that cultivated my imagination, but I never told Hannah of my sometimes horrific dreams, she wouldn’t understand my tortured mind, and I was afraid if I told her I would run the risk of losing her friendship forever. Telling her scary stories under the night sky was one thing, but the night terrors I experienced may have been too much for her to handle.

My imagination had also been fueled over the years by the town I was growing up in. The history of Fredrikstad is one from ancient times, a town founded in the late 1500’s. It hasn’t changed much since then either; people that get the chance to visit us are offered a glimpse of what a Norwegian town looked like several hundred years ago. The old buildings in the historic district have been converted into studios for craftspeople and artisans, with the beautiful architecture of yesteryear still very much in tact. The original old town of Fredrikstad is surrounded by a moat, with a water wheel and two cannons at its entrance. It lends itself to an old world, sometimes eerie feeling for those who visit.

The town was mesmerizing to town folk and tourists alike. While tourists were originally drawn to the town by the northern lights, its architecture also inspired awe. You wouldn’t expect the ambience of the colorful night lights to be enhanced by the low lying clouds. Or for the mountainous territory off in the distance to be so captivating, but it was; and it is truly a special place to live, especially when the lights begin their dance. I felt very fortunate to have grown up here. Although on this particular night, when we were startled out of bed on December 14th 2021, nothing I ever saw was like the auroras’ of that evening. Hannah turned away from the bedroom window, the glare too much for her beautiful big green eyes to handle. I remember the deluge of red glare into her green eyes terrified the hell out of me as I stared from underneath the covers in bed briefly. She threw her arms up in the air as if to block the intensity of the flood of colors and wind swarming into our bedroom. Although the window had been slightly ajar to let some of the cool winter air in, the strengthening wind blew it open further. Hannah ducked as the wind crashed into the swinging window outside, and pieces of glass broke and shattered along the cement patio below. I thought it was just a rogue gust of wind mixed with the northern lights; but the wind was too strong to be classified as a mere gust. The lights were too bright to be our friendly visit of bending light particles in the night. I jumped from the bed to Hannah’s side and held her tight. As I looked outside; I grabbed the swinging window with one hand, and pulled it in to latch it. The winds were too strong and it blew back out of my hands and crashed against the outside of the house breaking all of the glass panes at once this time and splintering the wooden frame. The frame appeared to be buckling under the pressure pulling outward as if being sucked out. I could feel a vacuum of air being sucked out of the room too. I looked at her, and saw fear in her eyes from the northern lights for the first time. The reddish glow of light coming in the window was deeper now, and I watched as the panic in her eyes grew. She looked devilish while captured in its grip. In all our years of gazing from atop the hill I have never seen her afraid of the lights. She normally embraced them and reveled in their beauty. She just stood there trembling. Beads of sweat were forming on her brow from the inexplicable heat coming in from the window.

I thought to myself that it was about 3-4 Celsius outside and yet heat was emanating from the swirling lights. It frightened me to look into Hannah’s eyes. They seemed dead inside, focusing in and out of my eyes. I shook her body trying to get her to respond to me. One moment focused and seeing me, then the next unfocused away from my eyes, and not seeing me. Then it seemed she was seeing through me, but still gazing blankly. I rattled her to get her to come out of the trance she was in. She finally focused on my face. Her pupils were contracting inward as she looked at me, finally seeing me. She seemed to come out of it for a bit, coherent for the moment. We both looked into the night sky and the northern lights took on an evil, bewitching personality, taking on a life of its own. The wind and the heat coming together in a tornado swirl. Usually, the twirling array of bending lights and intertwining colors, and the combinations of different color spectrums left us in absolute awe. Looking at the sky for hours on end; we felt bliss from witnessing the beauty of nature and science being unveiled all at once. The skies beauty always made us feel insignificant in comparison to the magnitude of the universe, but not that night, that night was simply filled with fear.

No, nothing sweet or beautiful was happening on this December night. Looking out across the field, spinning down from the sky were long blood red tendrils of light. Thin at first and seemingly transparent, but coming together in individual strands like rope twining together. Braiding and thickening; making the array more solid and unable to see through them. It was a combination of lights; swirling in a ghostly red; to black red color. Like the devil himself had descended from the sky, the light strands wrapping around one another feverishly getting thicker and tighter; stronger in its mass. Heaving in and out like a large man climbing up a flight of stairs and gasping for air; as if alive and bulging in its strength. It was clearly not the cause of the wind. The wind was cutting across our home in an opposing direction, from the river south to north as it raced across the field and upward towards the hill and the mountains. The air was warm in the vortex of the tornado as it swirled by our window. But all around the farm was frost bound tundra icing up thicker and thicker with every second that went by. We saw a cold gust of frigid white frosty air whipping up through the trees curling over the treetops. Grabbing the tops of the trees and squeezing them like a fist, freezing the tree tops immediately. We could hear the thin twiggy branches at the tops make a ‘crunching’ sound as they froze instantly. The field atop the hill, frost covered in a matter of seconds in a thick layer of white crusty ice. It reminded me of pictures I’ve seen of the arctic, deep thick icy craters quickly frozen solid as far as we could see up the hill.

As we watched, the thick blackish red rope that took shape in the sky changed, it was now contouring horizontally and spherically shifting its shape as it moved. The icy wind was still opposing its’ direction, frozen on the outside of the tornado; and hot and mesmerizing at its core. This ‘tornado’ of light was a self contained disaster, destroying everything in its path, but only in its path. All around it was clear sky as I glanced to the south over River Glomma. What was happening here is tearing its way through Fredrikstad only, destroying things in its path and now heading north. As the winds were whipping up to the hilltop; the plasma like thick rays had illuminated down from the empty sky above. Simultaneously, I saw off in the distance some of the homes in the area, the lights inside them flickered. At first I thought everyone in town was witnessing the same event as us and were turning on their lights to get a better look. Maybe some of them were; but some of the lights were just flickering in the night. Old man Bergem that lives down the street was visiting his daughter in Oslo for the weekend, yet his lights were flickering on and off like it were New Years Eve at midnight. The sphere of light from the sky was swirling in a counter clockwise movement; the strands of rope getting thicker and thicker. It appeared to be moving away from us towards the lake in the north. I looked at Hannah and she was enraptured by the movement; almost drawn into its powerful pull. I couldn’t look away either as it was drawing on both of us, with some type of tractor beam force pulling at us.

I looked away from the light momentarily, and the longer I looked away I felt a release from the grip it had on us. As if in a hypnotic trance and someone snapped their fingers to bring me out of it. I tried to pull Hannah away from its deadening grip. As I continued to look away for about 30 seconds more, it felt more like I was regaining consciousness. Hannah was silent and her eyes were glazed over in some catatonic like state of mind. I tried to pull her away from the window; Hannah was not a small frail woman either, as she stood almost eye to eye to me and weighed about 77 Kilos. In her mid-forties, she was still a strong woman of both body and mind. Although I’m about 20 centimeters taller and a good 40 Kilos heavier, I could barely get her to budge from the force pulling her near the window sill. I witnessed the buckling of the window frame itself straining to keep from blowing apart and being sucked into the vortex of the swirling lights. The center of the vortex was pulsating from its core like a heartbeat; pulling at anything that wasn’t nailed down. It was throwing over all our patio furniture outside, lighter items being sucked into the core. From the window I heard glass breaking downstairs then flying up into the center. I wanted to look but wouldn’t, I know it was sucking up the lanterns and wind chimes from the yard below. I heard the chimes clanging together, just before their sound stifled all at once as they disappeared into the core of this monster. The mirror on the wall next to us crashed to the ground spreading glass all over the bedroom floor.

I didn’t dare get any closer to the window, for fear it would grab onto the both of us and rip us out of the window and from our home. Finally, I wrapped both my arms around her body from behind, and yelled for her. Hannah! Stop staring at the tornado! We have to get away from the window. Hannah! I pulled back and threw us both on the bed; I felt the immediate release, as we fell away from the window. As our bodies hit the bed, she began to wail uncontrollably, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her body was shaking, hands trembling, and her lips quivering and still, she wasn’t in complete control of her body or her mind. Her body felt warmed over like it had been under a heat lamp for hours, her forearms were beginning to blister. She tried to speak but only uttered a few unintelligible sounds then her eyes went blank. The heaving in her chest reminded me of the heaving of the tornado; an attempt to grab at air desperately. The feverish breathing was beginning to subside as she curled herself on the side on the bed. The sheets were soaked in her sweat, and the room had become intoxicated with the smell of our radiating bodies. Fear was still in this room, or maybe just lingering in my brain. I loosened my grasp and gave her room to breathe, I needed to let her rest but more importantly, I had to find out what caused this strange phenomenon. I left her on the bed, crept back to the window with trepidation. I was stepping on the broken mirror glass on the bedroom floor with my bare feet as I approached. There was no escaping the broken shards of glass. It covered the floor, and my slippers were across the room. I felt my arches being punctured by the glass, as I tried desperately to avoid the pieces blown all over the bedroom floor. Peering out the window I could hear and see the winds dying down, like the thunder of gods coming to a rest. As I reluctantly gazed out the window to the north I saw off in the distance the small remains of the swirling red aurora tornado above River Glomma. It had slowed its churning and now had been about 30-40 kilometers north of the Thorgen farm. The people of Glomma and Lake Aursund were the next victims in its path.

It was now only about the size of a softball from my vantage point, and as I looked out the window I watched it wrap itself into a tight swirling circle like a sphere with a lighter whitish halo around its rim. I was roughly 30 kilometers away and I could still see it; I imagined the effect it was having on the homes in the area. Then all at once the red softball glowing sphere dropped straight down; like a stone plummeting down from the sky. Right into the river or lake just below, the heat in my yard from the vortex was gone. The frost on the hill was transforming back to its original state; wet and glistening in the moonlight. The winter night air became colder, now restoring balance to the temperature in the area just before ‘that thing’ ripped through the woods of our property. The winds died and the frost was dissipating. It was as if it had never happened, the entire event was only about 20-30 minutes long but it seemed like it went on in slow motion for an hour, Hannah was motionless on the bed.

CHAPTER 2

What do you Fear?

My head was spinning; I didn’t know what to do first. Mr. Bergem’s house down the street was empty and yet it was lit up like a Christmas tree during the tornado. What could be happening all over the rest of the town? I considered going down the road to the local tavern to ask what everyone else had seen. After all, it was just passed midnight and I’m sure the bar would be full of the regulars. Can I leave Hannah in the house alone? I thought. I reminded myself to remain calm, turn on all the lights and check all the windows and doors, as though that even made a difference at this point. I opened the door to the hallway and started hitting on all the switches and checking the door and window locks frantically. I felt like I was 9 years old again, back when my obsessive compulsive disorder was at its worst. No matter what I did, I couldn’t control my need to feel safe in my own home. I had to go back a dozen times to make sure I hadn’t missed a lock, or made a mistake and unlocked one by accident in my fervor. My O.C.D. back then was diagnosed as being brought on by a home invasion we had some time earlier at my parent’s house.

We had been robbed while visiting relatives, and when we returned the house was turned upside down. How could I ever feel safe again? An intruder was in my room for god’s sake! He took things from me; from our family I remember thinking as a child. I would imagine him lurking around corners every day, coming back for more. My parents wouldn’t let me see the token he had left on the front lawn, but I was able to sneak a peek when no one was looking. The burglar had shot our kitten Maggie; she must have gotten in the way during his rampage. What an animal to do such a dastardly thing, he probably had no feelings in his heart, just blackness. He must have been pure evil, dead inside devoid of the capacity to love in any way shape or form. I kept waiting for him to come back, imagining he was outside in the cold waiting to return to the scene of the crime to finish what he started. I lay there shivering under the blankets, tossing and turning. I was afraid of every noise; the sound of the house settling was that monster approaching from the street. The pitter of a light rain on the window turned into the creaking of steps, steps of that monster sneaking into the house. I was sure of the fear ahead; sure to be haunted by it for years. I would break into cold sweats at the thought of going to bed; night after chilling night getting the best of me, night shakes turning to night terrors. I would suffer from dreams where I was being torn to shreds, unable to wake from the shocking images crashing though my brain. The thought of him coming back consumed my life slowly and steadily with every passing night. First I had nightmares of a burglar and then they advanced to shocking mutant images tearing at me. He took more from us that night than just material things. He took our safety net away, our ability to rest easy in our own home. Something you take for granted until you’ve been trampled on, the way we were. Everyone should have a sense of safety in their own home, especially a child, we all felt violated.

My mom and dad wouldn’t show it but I know that they felt disgusted by it as well. Dad slept with a knife in his night stand and one under the mattress. He would pretend he wasn’t worried; but it was clear that he was. I wasn’t sure if he was afraid really, or if he just wanted a chance to slice through the guy’s neck with one of the knives he had stashed. Either way, it didn’t make me feel any better. I was sure he would return, and when he did, I was sure I would be his next victim. I used to recite the same thing over and over in my mind while lying in bed. "Better lock the windows and doors, or he’s coming back to kill some more," tossing back and forth in bed under the covers. Holding my teddy bear for dear life, it was the only thing that made me feel safe. I couldn’t go through another robbery. Better lock the windows and doors, or he’s coming back to kill some more. So I continued to check, double check, and check again, all doors and locks and windows were securely fastened night after night, week after week. Just waiting for a robber or burglar or some mutant man to take me by surprise, and sneak into my home. Now, all these years later, it was like I was 9 years old again, all at once thrown back in time to the unsettling feeling that my home was no longer secure. I had to make sure we were safe. Once again, after the fact, after the unwanted has gone; after the monster in the night left. It had been done to me again. I scurried through the house like a terrified rat in his maze; checking to make sure Hannah and I would be safe through the night. The locks, of course, had been securely locked all night, but that knowledge was not helping me rest easy.

What was happening to us tonight wasn’t something you could keep behind a locked door or window anyway. It wasn’t going to be denied. It was not of this earth. It wasn’t a burglar of flesh and blood. Hell, I didn’t know what it really was. I did know however, that I was scared out of my mind… . After I checked the house, I found my thought’s returning to Hannah again and decided to go back to the bedroom to make sure she was okay. As I entered the room, the stench of sweat filled the air like it had been used as a dungeon of torture. I regurgitated in my mouth a bit at the sight and the smell as I entered the room. Hannah had been so beautiful to me and to see her like this now was maddening; she looked catatonic, her eyes wide open and staring straight to the ceiling. There were dried tears on both sides of her face, and her lids were not closing periodically to moisten her eyes as they should. I took a thick blanket to cover the window that had busted open, then turned my attention to Hannah.

Reviews for Northern Lights

[urthwild · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I received a hard copy of this book for free from the author's publicist for an honest review in January 2014, after the author and I connected via twitter.

I found it a frustrating read. I do not need to be repeatedly bashed over the head with plot points. Too many times characters would repeat exactly the same thing the narrator had just described, not just once but sometimes twice in the same scene.
I also found the character descriptions on the whole routinely jarring and quite irritating.The male characters in particular were overly melodramatic, most of the women did not warrant a personality, they were satisfied with simply being pretty, or good cooks.
A promising mystery alluded to throughout around a character called Bergem left me feeling thoroughly cheated by the book's conclusion.
Some good Points;

There is a proper story.

There was a proper ending.

The loose threads were tied up.

It is a pity GR do not allow half points. On the whole I am giving it 2.5.
Reviewed on my blog in more detail.