The Cataclysm Scroll

By G.E. Miller

The Internet firearm forums and blogs are passionately discussing the action scenes depicted in the first novel of the series, and are anxiously awaiting this book's release which brings closure to some of the questions left unanswered.

Target shooters, retired military veterans and arm-chair generals all over the world have enjoyed the author's method of blending good 'ole boys vs terrorists, sniper vs counter-sniper and patriotic Americans helping citizens who have become victims because they were not prepared for the hard challenges facing the Nation when its enemies bring the fight to American soil.

The Cataclysm Scroll - Continues the storyline launched in the first book of the New Madrid Trilogy called "A Matter of Timing", but delves into exploring regions traditional science doesn't understand energy cause & effect, the subconscious mind, and dream states as a Sioux Shaman enters to assist one of the heroines in bringing resolution to the chaos and mayhem spawned in the killer earthquake's aftermath.

Can the Shaman quell impending doom in a physical realm by using metaphysical and spiritual techniques? Will an associate professor from the University of Illinois be successful in her attempts to right a wrong in order to save Earth from annihilation? Will assassins hired by America's enemies eliminate our heroes?

Find out in this exciting sequel to the first book in the series. Visit http://www.gmillercompanies.com for additional sneak previews of all three novels, purchase links and reader reviews. You can even chat with the author on the web site if he is online... Stop by and say HELLO!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 31, 2009
• ISBN: 9781467848633

G.E. Miller

G.E. Miller was fortunate enough to see life behind the Iron Curtain in 1970 in his late teens, when invited along with a civil engineering group from Canada. He spent weeks behind the Iron Curtain touring Leningrad, Moscow and East Berlin, observing life under the fist of tyranny. He saw first-hand a majority of the Communists people oppressed and dirt poor, standing in long lines just for a loaf of bread, thousands of empty shelves in Moscows largest department store in Red Square. He returned home to America deeply appreciating the freedoms and liberty that living in a Republic and a free society offer. A life-long dedication to history study, mixed with a fascination with sciences that mankind currently has very little understanding of, creates a unique combination of old age and new age journeys for the readers enjoyment. The New Madrid Trilogy, comprised of A Matter of Timing, The Cataclysm Scroll, and Killing the Eagle, reflect the authors passions of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness entitled to all people throughout the world regardless of race, religion or geographical location. Visit http://www.gmillercompanies.com for more information about the author's works.

Book preview

The Cataclysm Scroll 

-1- 

The ugly, muddy water from Lake Mississippi flowed in and out of the caves in the bluffs south of what remained of St. Louis, Missouri the month following the strongest earthquake recorded in U.S. history. Thousands of years ago, the bluffs on the Illinois side of the river had been part of the natural terrain that held the Mississippi River in its banks. But as waters receded centuries ago, the limestone caves that were left in the bluffs had been found to be perfect for mushroom farms. The New Madrid killer earthquake that had rocked the area a month before had once again called on the bluffs to contain what now was called Lake Mississippi. Today, its muddy water lapped at the limestone shoreline, continuing to erode the bluffs in a process that Mother Nature had started thousands of years ago.

Congress had formally named Lake Mississippi only two weeks before, and it was considered the Nation’s sixth great lake. Slightly smaller in volume than Lake Erie, it ran north and south several hundred miles, from just north of St. Louis to twenty miles north of Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Not nearly as wide as Lake Erie, however, it looked like a big, fat river when looking down from the satellites orbiting Earth.

To a great extent, the anarchy that had dominated the area the first two weeks following the quake had subsided. The National Guard and the area’s militias had been largely responsible for initially quelling the violence and removing the war lords from their positions of power. United Nations troops had been shipped home, partly because their presence was inflammatory to many American citizens, but primarily because of what 130 Iranian terrorists posing as U.N. relief forces had done to National Guard and militia troops at a camp just south of St. Louis.

It had been dubbed the The Arnold Massacre, where a covert pocket of Iranian Special Forces troops had infiltrated the U.N. relief effort and slaughtered American soldiers and militiamen in their sleep in order to launch a secret terrorist attack against the United States. The camp had been located between Arnold and Fenton, Missouri, and work had already begun erecting a monument in honor of those who had given their lives defending the people who were trying to survive the chaos following the earthquake.

It was evening, and two geology students and their associate professor were having a dinner meeting at the Red Lobster in Fairview Heights, Illinois, discussing their findings from the day. Laura Tanner was the associate professor of geology for the University of Illinois in Champaign Urbana, Illinois. The team had been working the bluffs south of Columbia, Illinois for the past week, doing studies on the effects of the earthquake and gathering samples of rock and sediment around the shoreline of Lake Mississippi. The U of I had received a small grant for earthquake research, and Laura had been tagged as the most qualified because she was a certified PADI dive master and her bachelors degree was in geology with a masters in archaeology. While the quake had been a disaster for most people, its timing couldn’t have been any better for her because she was writing her doctoral on tsunamis created by underwater earthquakes in the Far East.

The students, Josh, and Katie had been trying to stay focused on their research, but they were still in awe from the havoc and wreckage created by the 9.2 quake and all its aftershocks. Even after seeing the ruins first-hand, they still had a difficult time understanding how all the damage could have been done in two minutes. And several of the aftershocks had registered over 5.5, as if Mother Nature wanted to make sure that an entirely new landscape formed in this section of America.

There had been over thirty aftershocks, even one today registering 3.6. Downtown St. Louis had lost nearly all its major buildings in the initial monster, and those that had remained still had several feet of water flowing through their first couple floors. The new Busch Stadium, the home of the St. Louis Cardinals, was lying mostly in ruins, its shiny new bricks now just piles of moss-gathering masonry under seven feet of nasty water. Catfish had enjoyed the stadium franks, sacks of potato chips and pretzels that had become food for fish rather than baseball fans.

As the waitress delivered meals to the three, Josh continued to make his point, "But Miss Tanner, don’t you think all this water is way contaminated? Why in Hell would you want to scuba in any of those caves tomorrow?"

Katie agreed, Yeah, the visibility will be Z-E-R-O and there’s still bodies they haven’t recovered yet! Can you imagine bumping in to a person that’s been dead for over a month in this August heat? You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me. I’d totally hurl!

Josh laughed at how Katie had stated her opinion, in the best Valley Girl speak, and Laura smiled but shook her head in disagreement.

The professor said, There’s a couple dive teams still working the lake, and most of the bodies have been recovered according to the news. I have good dive equipment, and as far as any of the local officials know, nobody has been back in any of the caves yet that are now underwater to see what changes have occurred since the quake.

Josh continued the argument. But what if there’s another aftershock and the cave falls in on you? We can’t dive and we’d never be able to get you out!

Laura smiled and laughed at their parental concern, You guys need to quit worrying about me and think about why we’re here! There’s been so many changes to this area in the last month, we’ll spend years studying why it happened. Some day we may even be able to predict the next time the New Madrid fault’s going to go, and save a bunch of lives.

The banter continued as the team anxiously awaited their next day on the bluffs. Laura knew she was going to explore the caves the following day, regardless of her students’ concerns.

Early the next morning the team was on their way to the bluffs. Laura’s little Honda Civic’s interior and trunk was crowded with all their gear, but gas economy was important because of the fuel shortages in the area since the earthquake. State highway 159 now ran nearly parallel to the new lake and they had to use it rather than I-255 because the interstate had been built in the lowlands and was now entirely under water. 159 was still strewn with abandoned cars and trucks, mostly out of fuel, that had not yet been recovered by their owners. In many cases, their owners would not be picking them up – because the anarchy that had been rampant for two weeks following the quake had claimed their lives.

Entire subdivisions had been sacked by roving bands of lawless hoards, raping, murdering and pillaging suburban homes looking for food, water, shelter, guns and ammo. Many families had chosen to bug out altogether, moving to other sections of America that had little or no damage from the earthquake. But over half had decided to stay, either because they couldn’t get out or because they wanted to stay the course with their families and friends. And that decision to stay, for tens of thousands, had spelled death and carnage never before seen in this Nation. Many families that stood alone, especially those that had no firearms in the home, had been murdered in the anarchy. The families that survived had had the foresight to gather in force in farms and small rural communities that could be defended.

The government’s estimate for death due to the quake and the pestilence that followed was over a million, and the count was growing daily. Cleanup was slow mostly because of the fuel shortages, collapsed bridges and overpasses, and railways completely out of commission. For reconstruction of the St. Louis area, everything had to come from the West by truck because there were no bridges spanning Lake Mississippi. Supplies had to come from the East for rebuilding all the cities on that side of the lake, as far north as Alton, Illinois south past Memphis and beyond.

Some discussion in Washington had been bantered about for a new bridge to span the lake, but FEMA and Homeland Security took a hard position on rebuilding what had been ruined before beginning new engineering efforts on 3-mile wide bridges. A cottage industry had spawned the last couple weeks by enterprising boat owners, ferrying people and equipment back and forth between Illinois and Missouri.

* * * *

The team reached the bluffs near Valmeyer, Illinois, where they had been working gathering samples. The lower sections around Valmeyer had been flooded out in the great flood of ’93 and the town had been rebuilt on higher ground rather than in the flood plain again. Apparently the town’s citizens saw Mother Nature’s warning in ’93, because now the lowlands were under Lake Mississippi. It had proven a wise decision to move the town, indeed.

The morning embraced the team with a beautiful sunrise, 70 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. It was as if the sun had forgotten the earthquake, ignoring the bloated bodies scattered around still floating in the water. Turtles, catfish and crawfish had found the food supply seemingly endless. A few boats filled with volunteers out on the lake were visible by the team, still searching for what was left of the bodies before turtles could finish stripping the bones like piranha.

Josh shook his head at the professor while she was putting on her dive gear. He said, Boss lady, I still say you’re crazy for getting in to these caves, they’re way too dangerous.

Laura laughed as she finished putting on her wet suit, struggling to get the tight lycra over her shoulders. She said, And you worry too much. I’ve been diving for five years, Josh. Lots of hours logged underwater since my certification.

Katie piled on, "And how much cave diving have you done?"

Laura smiled at their concern, There are some really cool caves in an old quarry called Blackwater just north of Columbia, Missouri. Three years ago I got some hours in their underwater tunnels, and I’ve also dived Bon Terre mines just a couple hours from here. It’s a great big underground cavern that was a lead mine a century ago, flooded when they mined it out and left. It’s great diving!

Katie nodded and said, Yeah, I’ve heard the water’s really clear in Bon Terre mine. But the water in these caves is muddy and you have no idea what you may find in them.

Alright, then you two can tend my rope if it’ll make you feel any better, Laura said. If I get in trouble, I’ll just yank the rope twice and you guys pull me up, okay? She slipped on her wet suit booties.

The students looked at each other, agreeing on the compromise.

Josh said, Alright. But you be careful.

Laura nodded, grabbed her mask, fins, snorkel and backpack that held the scuba tank. It was older Scubapro equipment that she’d bought used when working on her Master’s degree, but it had never failed her and was still good quality for an amateur diver. The tank was a pewter colored U.S. Diver Professional 80 cubic footer. Josh and Katie had kidded her it was exactly like the scuba tank used in the original Jaws movie to blow up the shark at the very end. She was also carrying a small dive light and a ‘goody bag’, a string-cinched nylon sack about two-feet square, to carry rock samples and other curiosities she found worthy of bringing to the surface.

She carried the equipment down a steep hill that approached the water being careful not to slip on the loose rocks, with the two team members close behind carrying a 200 foot rope. She stopped when she reached the water, swung up the stabilizer jacket with its backpack that held the tank, strapped it on, then slowly walked into the water carrying her mask and fins. She put on her lead weight belt at the water’s edge, because without it the wet suit made her too buoyant. Josh then tied the yellow nylon rope around her backpack’s carry handle. He jerked it a bit to ensure it was tightly snugged up.

All good to go back there? Laura asked, turning around as much as she could with all the gear on.

Yep, Josh nodded. I’ll turn your air on. Ready?

Let’s go! Laura said anxiously. Once Josh had finished opening the tank’s valve, she tapped the button on the regulator above the mouthpiece to ensure air was flowing. It shot out some air, telling them all the equipment was working fine.

Laura slowly walked into the water, stepping on rocks and the nasty mud deposited by the lake already. She slipped a bit, nearly falling backward because the weight of the tank hanging on her back made keeping balance difficult. Once she was waist-high in the water, she slipped on the swim fins one at a time, spit in her mask and wiped it around so it didn’t fog, put on the mask and smiled. The students laughed at the same time, Laura’s funny-looking smile being twisted out of proportion by the mask resting on her top lip.

She put the air regulator in her mouth, took a couple breaths, and glided into the murky water. Josh and Katie let the rope slip through their hands as Laura slowly moved down and away from them. They didn’t know how good, or bad, the underwater visibility was for Laura, but they lost sight of her just inches from the surface.

"My God, Laura thought to herself as she felt her way along the bottom just a few feet from the surface, Zero visibility is an understatement!" Her dive light cast so little light in front of its lens, it reminded her of a candle in an auditorium. The water was so murky she couldn’t see more than a foot out in front of the light. She had never been in water that, in broad daylight, was pitch black only a few feet below the surface.

It was also easy to get disoriented in the muddy water. She was heading what she believed to be south along the cliffs, now down about twenty feet she guessed. She reached out and brought up the hose that held her depth and tank pressure gauges to look at their numbers. Holding the dive light right on the instruments only inches from her mask, she could barely see the gauges: 18 feet deep, 2600 pounds of air left.

"Lots of air," she thought to herself. She continued moving along near the steep incline on her left, meaning she should be heading south. A few minutes later, it got even darker immediately beneath her.

"A cave!" she thought, and moved her legs and fins to glide down toward the gaping darkness that resembled a huge open mouth waiting to swallow her. The dive light barely illuminated her path as she moved into the darkness below.

How far you think she’s gone? Katie asked Josh.

Josh shook his head slowly, Not sure, I’d say about eighty feet or so. We’ve got a little more than half the rope left. They both glanced at the rope lying on the ground next to them, watching as it slowly diminished in size as their professor continued her dive in the lake.

Laura had collected a few rocks and placed them in the goody bag as she moved further into the cave. One rock felt particularly interesting, about the size of her fist She noticed there was less water turbulence in the cave, and the clarity was slightly better. She could see about three feet with the help of the dive light. In the back of her mind, she’d been wondering how much rope was left.

She kept moving deeper in to the cave. It had indeed been used as a mushroom farm. She passed over the top of some tables that had rusting small tools laying on them. She placed a pair of rusted needle-nosed pliers in her goody bag to show the students when she got topside.

As she shined the flashlight around the inside of the cave, there was a faint flash on the wall. She moved closer to inspect it, wondering what could possibly be shiny amongst all the mud and slime. It was only about three feet away, peeking out of the rock and sediment wall near the top of the cave. It resembled the bottom of an aluminum tin can, but larger in diameter, she guessed about four inches across. It was sticking about three inches out of the rock.

She tapped it with the dive light. Metal. It made a strange sound, and even under water, it didn’t make a sound like she thought it should have. She tapped on it again with a fingernail. It definitely sounded like tin or aluminum. She tried pulling it out but it wouldn’t budge. Wiggling it back and forth in the rock and mud, it moved a bit. She pulled again, harder this time by turning her body around and bracing her swim fins up against the wall. With more torque, the object began to move toward her. Slowly, just inches. With about eight inches of the metal thing out of the rock, Laura could grab more of it and she pulled even harder. It began to slide out of the rock more easily. Two feet, then three. Suddenly the far end of the metal thing cleared the rock and it gently floated down to her hands outstretched below it.

Laura was elated. "Whatever this is, it’s been here a while! What a find!" she thought to herself. She tucked it under her left arm with a firm hold and began swimming out of the cave. She couldn’t swim fast enough. Even if she had air left, she didn’t care because her dive was over. This thing had to get to the top so the team could investigate it. She followed the bright yellow rope out to the cave’s opening.

When she’d cleared the cave, Laura grabbed the rope being tended top-side and yanked on it twice.

She wants us to pull her up! Josh said excitedly. Gimme a hand here.

Katie helped take up the rope as Josh fed it back to her as he tugged and pulled the rope toward him. He could feel Laura on the other end, apparently coming their direction because the rope kept getting more slack in it.

There’s her bubbles! exclaimed Katie, pointing out onto the water’s surface about 60 feet away. Each time Laura exhaled, the bubbles raced to the top and the two could see her getting closer fairly quickly.

Laura was ascending nearly straight up now, periodically pushing a button on the dive instrument hose to shoot a little air into her stabilizer jacket, inflating it as she rose. She was anxious to get to the top. When she broke the surface, she took the air regulator out of her mouth and ripped off the mask. She looked back at the shoreline where the cave had been to make a mental note of its location for her next visit.

I found something! Laura shouted from about 50 feet away, now moving toward them with strong kicks from her fins while floating on the surface.

Josh and Katie glanced at each other, wondering what it could be. Laura held up the metal container so they could see it as she neared the shoreline. Josh finished pulling her in the rest of the way as Katie quickly wound up the rope.

Laura slipped off her fins and tossed them on the shore, handed the container to Katie, and accepted Josh’s extended hand to pull her the rest of the way out of the mud.

Laura was breathing heavily, but it was more from excitement than from the quick ascent and swim to the shoreline. She sat down, unhitched the stab jacket, and swung it with the tank still attached away from her, then laid it on the ground.

Laura was excited and smiling. Grab a towel for me if you would, Josh. And Katie, use another towel to dry that metal thing off please. She then began telling them about where and how she’d found it, and what a hard time she’d had getting it out of the rock.

They both hurried to help Laura, and in a short time, all three were kneeling in a circle around the metal object giving it a thorough inspection.

Josh tapped it with a pencil. Doesn’t look like stainless steel or aluminum, Prof, he offered. It’s not porous at all.

Katie nodded and said, "As I was wiping it off, it felt weird, kinda slick. And it’s way shiny. Slick, like glass would be. I think Josh is right. There’s not a scratch on it. The metal is flawless."

What kind of metal could it be then? Josh asked, looking at his professor for an answer.

I have no idea, Laura said slowly, deep in thought while she rolled the object gently over in the grass to better inspect it.

The canister, or whatever it was, sounded hollow when they tapped it. Josh had measured it as exactly 36 inches long and 6 inches in diameter. It seemed to be tightly sealed because there were no seams or cracks they could see on it anywhere.

Let’s call it a day and head back to the motel, Laura said to them. I don’t want it to get scratched or anything out here in the open. The two nodded agreement and began packing their gear back in to the Honda.

As they drove toward Fairview Heights and the Motel 6 they were staying in, Laura checked her cell phone for a signal. Nothing. Since the earthquake, very few calls were getting through in this part of the country. The combined damage done to the cell towers as well as the Iranian Trojan virus launched against the phone company landlines had brought the Midwest’s communications to a crawl. When she’d asked the motel’s desk clerk where she could use her phone, she had been told the only ‘for sure’ way to get calls in and out was by using a cell tower close to Scott Air Force Base just east of Belleville. Military bases had the top priority for reestablishing communications – both data as well as voice, after the disaster.

Laura said, I’m going to swing east on I-64, guys. I need to use my cell phone to contact the university.

Katie nodded and replied, Maybe they’ll have an idea what kind of metal this thing is! She was looking down at it as it lay across her lap.

Josh turned around from the front seat and said, We’d probably have to have some kind of sample off it to send, don’t you think, professor?

Laura nodded, Probably. But maybe Professor Katz can help us with his best guesses until we get it back to the labs in Champaign.

They drove on in silence, fully occupied looking at the damaged buildings, downed power lines, and abandoned cars.

-2- 

His dreams last night had been extremely disturbing, and he had begun his trek of about eight miles to his favorite power spot in the woods to attempt a vision quest. It was getting late in the day, and the walk by foot would get him there just before dark. He felt a sense of urgency, and was hurrying as fast as his 75-year old feet would carry him.

Mahkah was a Shaman, gifted with a second sight into other realms that few people could perceive. He had never known his father, but his mother had explained his lineage to him when he was very young, just before she had died. Left alone at age 8, he’d lived in a tribal orphanage in southern New Mexico until he was 14, then adopted by Wakanda, a middle-aged Sioux woman in South Dakota who had been visited repeatedly in dreams by a young Indian who called himself Mahkah. Wakanda’s name itself meant possesses magical powers, and she and Mahkah had immediately bonded for reasons neither one understood.

Wakanda’s father had been the tribal Sioux shaman in the later half of the 19th century, descended from a long line of shamans who had passed their knowledge from father-to-son for longer than could be remembered. But Wakanda’s father had only been blessed mid-life with one offspring, a girl. Although it had been against tradition, he had trained his daughter in the shamanic arts during the years he had left on Earth. He had lived until his late 80’s, although nobody had known his age exactly. Wakanda had never married, choosing instead to perfect the art her father had passed to her, working on skills that even today ‘advanced science’ did not understand or acknowledge. Dream control, alternative perception, energy focus, intent of the will, body, mind and spirit balance were just a few of the arts she had devoted her life to understanding and perfecting. And she, in turn, passed the knowledge on to her young apprentice, Mahkah.

Wakanda had continued to live in the small cabin her father had built in the