Powders To FlexiCommander

By Wallace Berry

Embark on a thrilling adventure with "The Guardian of Bird Island: Powders To FlexiCommander" a gripping tale that will captivate fans of mystery, suspense, and action-packed science fiction. Perfect for young adult and adult readers alike, this novel follows the journey of Wally, a brilliant programmer who stumbles upon a groundbreaking discovery on a hidden sanctuary known as Bird Island.

Wally, along with his childhood friends must navigate a treacherous landscape of secrets, betrayal, and cutting-edge science to protect the island's long-forgotten treasures. As they uncover a cache of experimental microorganisms with extraordinary abilities, Wally and his team develop a revolutionary material called FlexiShield-X9, which could change the course of history and save countless lives.

But their mission is far from simple. With drug smugglers, covert operations, and shadowy figures threatening to expose their clandestine activities, Wally must forge alliances with unexpected allies like Dr. Elena Sanchez and Will James. As the stakes rise, readers will be taken on a heart-pounding journey filled with unexpected twists and turns.

The ultimate test arrives when Will and his team of Navy SEALs embark on a daring hostage rescue mission equipped with the FlexiCommander suits, powered by Wally's incredible inventions. The fate of innocent lives hangs in the balance, and the success of their mission depends on the strength of Wally's convictions and the power of his creations.

"The Guardian of Bird Island: Powders To FlexiCommander" is a must-read for those who crave a thrilling blend of friendship, loyalty, and the fight for a better future. With its perfect mix of heart-pounding action, cutting-edge science, and the unbreakable bonds that define true heroism, this novel will keep readers on the edge of their seats until the very last page.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wallace Berry
• Release date: Mar 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224344123

Wallace Berry

Wallace Berry was born in Little Rock, Arkansas, as World War II began, and his upbringing took place on a farm in the Arkansas countryside. His childhood was steeped in the rustic simplicity of farm life, absent of modern conveniences such as electricity, indoor plumbing, relying on wood stoves for warmth, and lanterns for light. This immersion in a world where nature and necessity dictated daily life deeply rooted in him a love for the wilderness. His adventures in the surrounding forests and the hands-on experiences of early rural living profoundly shaped his appreciation for nature and a life outdoors. As he grew older, Wallace chose the Texas Gulf Coast as his place of residence, carrying with him the values and passions developed during his formative years.

Book preview

Prologue

In the sunbathed heart of the Texas Gulf Coast, where the hum of civilization fades into the whispers of the bayou, lies a remnant of uncharted territory—a place where nature's secrets are as deep as the waters embracing it. Bird Island, a mere blot on the map to the uninformed eye, harbors a mystery that weaves through the very fabric of life itself. To the locals from the nearby fishing village of Chinquapin, it is a sanctuary, shrouded in lore and surrounded by the brackish currents of East Matagorda Bay, where the pull of the tides whispers tales of the unknown.

In the quaint shadow of this coastal haven, three young men—Pug, Richie, and Wally—forge a brotherhood in the embrace of nature's immense canvas. Amid the thrill of duck hunts and the serenity of fishing, their days unfold with a simplicity that belies the pulse of adventure running in their veins.

But Chinquapin's tranquil waters and expansive marshes are mere preludes to the unseen forces at play, where the microcosm holds dominion over the macrocosm. Here, unbeknownst to the three friends, a discovery stirs beneath the soil—a hidden cache of nondescript bags, each containing a peculiar blue powder. This substance, derived from a unique microorganism known as BRV-076, possesses the power to unlock the vast potential of the human mind, granting those who consume it an unparalleled ability to retain and recall information with crystal clarity.

As whispers of this cognitive marvel ripple through academic circles and graze the peripheries of corporate ambition, the island's true legacy embeds itself in the heartstrings of those willing to listen, to venture closer, to seek beyond the veil.

Today, the island calls, and tomorrow, the three friends will answer—unwittingly stepping into a larger narrative, one where Powders to Microorganisms is no mere title, but a protagonist in its own right—a harbinger of change that will test the bonds of friendship, challenge the ethos of humankind, and rewrite the rules of existence.

Let us rewind the clock, to a time before the sands shifted, before the simplicity of life in Chinquapin was challenged by science's quivering edge, and reveal the tale of a world on the brink of transformation, through an odyssey woven by the threads of curiosity, loyalty, and the sheer force of the human spirit. Welcome, dear reader, to the nexus of the tale. Welcome, to Powders to Microorganisms.

Chapter 1

Awakening the Guardian

As dawn broke on the southeastern edge of Houston, a quilt of tranquility lay over the suburban landscape. Wally's home, nestled in the comfortable outskirts, was silent except for the gentle hum of a central heating system warding off the winter chill. The February air was crisp and sharp, carrying a whisper of distant sea salt from the Texas Gulf Coast.

Within the house, shadows retreated to their daytime corners as the morning sun filtered through half-drawn blinds. The soft rays danced across Wally's closed eyes, painting a patchwork of light and dark on his resting form. He was deeply ensconced in sleep, his rhythmic breathing attuned to the stillness of early morning.

His Hyundai Santa Fe sat in the driveway, untouched since his return from Chinquapin. Its sleek lines caught the dawn light, reflecting a glimmer onto Wally's prized ICON A5 seaplane model on a shelf nearby. The real thing, a beacon of his success with Flex-Code Software, rested in a rented hangar at a local airport—a symbol of triumph over distance and time.

Suddenly, a distant beep sliced through the silence like a hot knife through butter. Persistent and unyielding, it punctuated the calm morning air with an urgent rhythm. It was an intrusion into the sacred serenity of early morning—a call to action that could not be ignored.

Wally stirred from his sleep, his body responding instinctively to the intrusion. His eyes flickered open to find their focus on an LED panel blinking in sync with the beep—the motion sensor alert from Bird Island. The digital heartbeat quickened Wally's pulse as he registered its significance.

The island was not just land and sea to him; it held secrets buried deep within—secrets guarded by Jeff and him alone. Jeff knew about Wally's superhuman abilities bestowed by unique microorganisms and had borne witness to their effects. But he remained oblivious to the microscopic entities, their existence concealed in a shroud of confidentiality.

The discovery of the unique microorganisms happened as a byproduct of military scientists conducting water surveillance around Bird Island during WWII. They were initially looking into potential biological warfare applications by monitoring water quality. In the process, they came across mysterious bioluminescent microbes in the bay. These microorganisms were then studied in a bunker laboratory, where it was found that they could enhance night vision, leading to their classification as VAM-345 for military purposes. Bird Island's significance lies in the chance discovery of these microorganisms there during military experiments. The military researchers intended to weaponize the microbes, but due to the challenges in controlling their effects, the program was eventually abandoned. The knowledge of these microorganisms and their capabilities was left hidden in old logbooks, which Wally discovered and read, learning about their military origins for the first time.

As Wally's senses came alive, he reflected on the last time the alarm had rung out—an roving wild pig causing a minor commotion. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet meeting the cold floor with determination. This was a call he couldn't ignore; he had a responsibility, a promise to keep.

It was time to return to Bird Island.

WALLY PICKED UP HIS phone and dialed Jeff's number. As the line connected, he quickly explained the situation, detailing the strange alarm that had sounded from Bird Island according to the remote sensors. Though Wally wasn't sure what had triggered it, he knew something unusual must be happening on the deserted island to set off the alert. 

Jeff listened carefully, his brows furrowing as Wally described the anomaly. He agreed that something seemed amiss and promised to do a flyover right away in his seaplane to investigate. After confirming the timing, Wally ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket, feeling a nervous energy overtake him.

Jeff is an experienced middle-aged pilot,  known for his skillful handling of his Cessna 172M seaplane, Sally. Residing along the Texas Gulf Coast, he's deeply familiar with the region's treacherous waters and weather. As an ally to Pug, Richie, and Wally, Jeff provides critical aerial support for their protection of Bird Island, using his expertise and adventurous spirit to help unveil the island’s secrets.

While awaiting Jeff's callback, Wally decided to pack a bag, just in case this mystery required an in-person visit to the island. He threw in some clothes, flashlights, batteries, insect repellent, and other supplies he figured might prove useful, making sure to tuck an assortment of cookies into the side pocket of his backpack. Those would provide some quick energy if needed, he reasoned.

Zipping up the backpack, Wally paced around the living room, periodically glancing at his silent phone resting on the coffee table. The waiting only enhanced his unease. He kept picturing the remote, windswept island, imagining what could have possibly triggered the alarm that connected back to his homemade monitoring system.

After nearly 45 tense minutes, the phone suddenly rang, jolting Wally from his thoughts. He lunged for it, seeing Jeff's name on the caller ID. Swiping quickly to answer, he didn't even get out a greeting before Jeff started explaining what he had seen.

It's the craziest thing, Jeff said, his voice perplexed yet tinged with excitement. There are lights - these strange, colorful lights - dancing over the bunker on the southeastern tip of the island. It was almost mesmerizing watching their unpredictable flickering and pulsing. At first, I thought it might be some sort of reflection, but as I did a second fly-by, it became clear the lights were originating from that area.

Jeff continued, I've never seen anything like it. The lights seem to be contained to just the bunker structure and the airspace above it. No sign of activity elsewhere on the island. I checked the shorelines and interior but couldn't spot any people, boats, or obvious cause for the lights.

Wally felt his adrenaline spike at the description, his mind racing to make sense of it. What in the world could cause such an anomalous sight out on the desolate island bunker? It seemed they had stumbled upon a genuine mystery begging to be investigated firsthand.

After a short pause, Jeff added with building enthusiasm, I'm willing to bet those lights are connected to the alarm triggering. And I know you well enough to assume you're itching to get out there ASAP and figure this out. I can meet you whenever you're ready. Just say the word!

Wally didn't hesitate. I'm all packed up. I will pick you up in 90 minutes in the A5 and we'll get to the bottom of this!

THE QUIET RHYTHM OF the morning was broken by the purposeful movements of Wally. His backpack, sturdy and well-worn, sat on the kitchen table, its canvas exterior hinting at many an adventure. With deft hands, he opened it and inspected the contents. Neatly packed rows of cookies caught the morning light, their ordinary appearance belying the potent microorganisms baked within. A satisfied nod affirmed his readiness; it was time to leave.

In this long-forgotten WWII bunker on Bird Island, mislaid amidst thick foliage and obsolescence, Wally had stumbled upon archival research—a vestige of classified military science. It laid out methodologies for deriving superhuman abilities from microorganisms. With careful precision, Wally harnessed this arcane knowledge, delicately lacing cookies with the potent powders—coded Red, Blue, Orange, and Violet—each imbued with its own exceptional attribute. This secret culinary alchemy was known to him alone, subtly granting him extraordinary endurance, eidetic memory, enhanced night vision, and acute hearing, all through the guise of an innocuous baked treat.

The drive to his hangar was a familiar one, a journey marked by anticipation and adrenaline. His Hyundai Santa Fe hummed beneath him, an eager beast ready to devour the miles ahead. Each passing landscape whispered of his destination: Bird Island. 

Bird Island is a narrow, flat expanse along the southeastern edge of East Matagorda Bay on the Texas Gulf Coast. Measuring 1.5 miles by 0.5 miles, it features a terrain of grasses, vines, and bushes, with a smattering of live oaks. It boasts a rich array of wildlife and contains remnants of hidden WWII structures. The island's shores are mostly mudflats with oyster beds and occasional sandy patches, marked by forgotten military bunkers and a varied ecosystem.

His hangar loomed large as he arrived, a silent guardian housing his prized possession: the ICON A5 seaplane. Affectionately known as 'Seawings', she sat gleaming under the hangar lights, her sleek body poised for flight.

The sound of an engine cut through the tranquility as Wally's seaplane roared to life. Propellers spun into a blur as he guided her out onto the open runway, her wings slicing through the early morning air with practiced ease.

Jeff's dock materialized in the distance, a welcome sight amidst the expanse of water. As Wally skillfully maneuvered Seawings towards it, Jeff's figure emerged from a shadowy corner, his wave cutting through the cool air.

The seaplane's gentle hum turned into a soft purr as Wally brought her in for a landing near Jeff's dock. Water splashed up against her floats in a joyful greeting as she settled into her temporary berth.

Jeff clambered aboard with an ease born of many such journeys together. His presence filled the cabin with an air of shared purpose and unspoken friendship.

Bird Island soon stretched out beneath them, its beauty raw and untamed. Wally guided the seaplane in a wide arc, allowing them to survey the landscape. Their destination, entrance E3, lay on the southeastern tip of the island, its clandestine nature hidden beneath layers of overgrown vegetation.

The lowering of the seaplane was a well-rehearsed interplay of atmosphere and ocean, with Seawing's pontoons lightly brushing the top before coming to rest with a soft splash. Wally switched off the motor, their trip finished—for the present. They had come to Bird Island, their escapade only starting.

AS THEY NEARED THE source of the alarm, their footsteps echoed softly through the thicket, swallowed by the rustling of cordgrass under the breeze's gentle persuasion. The coastal air was a heady mix of sea salt and the robust earthiness of decaying vegetation. An eerie illumination pulsated around the bunker, casting an ethereal glow that made their surroundings seem surreal.

The spectacle that unfolded before them was anything but ordinary. Strewn haphazardly across the damp ground lay empty bags—discarded remnants of what appeared to be a hurried operation. Their labels, bold against the gathering dusk, were a jumble of puzzling words: Fish Emulsion, Seaweed Extract, ESP-628, 13-13-13 Standard, Chicken Manure. A motley collection, suggestive of a potent fertilizer concoction. The presence of ESP-628 hinted at an experimental endeavor—its properties known to enhance plant growth.

As Wally and Jeff surveyed the scene, it was clear, unmistakable, that wind or recent rainfall had scattered this peculiar mix far and wide. The earth, greedy for nourishment, had imbibed this unexpected bounty. The cordgrass and vines seemed to quiver with an accelerated life force, their growth unusually swift and vigorous under the influence of ESP-628. They pulsed with an inner light that lent an almost alien quality to their appearance.

Their investigation led them closer to the bunker entrance where the bioluminescent spectacle seemed most concentrated. There was an undeniable correlation between the luminescence and ESP-628—an unexpected effect, perhaps, but one that cast a captivating dance of light across the island's undergrowth.

Yet there was more to this clandestine operation than a simple horticultural experiment gone awry. Traces of drag tracks hinted at recent activity—a hurried visit shrouded in secrecy. As they ventured deeper into this mystery, they found themselves teetering on the precipice of an illicit scheme.

Was this the work of smugglers who had unwittingly created this botanical wonder? Could this be an audacious attempt at a rapid-growth operation, exploiting Bird Island's seclusion? Or was there something more sinister at play, hidden beneath the surface of this seemingly innocent experiment?

WALLY NODDED TO JEFF, Keep an eye on Seawings while I take a look around. He headed off down the shoreline, his feet crunching on the sandy gravel. Once he was out of sight, Wally reached into his pack and pulled out three small, colored cookies - one blue, one red, one violet, and one orange. He had baked them himself, each containing a special microorganism to enhance his natural abilities.  Wally infuses his homemade cookies with microorganisms like CLF-532, which enhances his endurance, allowing him to carry out strenuous activities without tiring. These cookies provide him with discrete yet potent physical advantages, subtly baked into his snack.

Popping them quickly into his mouth, he chewed and swallowed. The effects were nearly instantaneous. Information began flooding Wally's mind as his photographic memory kicked into overdrive. Each minute detail of the landscape - every shell, stone and cordgrass stalk - imprinted itself in perfect clarity. His muscles surged with renewed vigor, fatigue vanishing. But most incredible was the way the world began to glow, a unique aura enveloping all living things.

Wally moved steadily, his senses heightened. The snap of a twig drew his gaze to a bobcat slinking between palmettos, its tawny fur illuminated as if from within. In a tidal pool nearby, he could discern each microscopic organism, radiating its own bioluminescence. Then his acute hearing detected voices ahead. Approaching cautiously, he spotted two men near a stand of live oaks, inspecting agricultural equipment. From their discussion, it was clear they were the source of this clandestine operation. Wally crept back the way he'd come, eager to tell Jeff what he had uncovered. The island's mysteries ran deeper than they could have imagined.

WALLY CREPT THROUGH the thick foliage, moving stealthily towards the voices drifting through the humid air. As he drew nearer, the men's conversation became clearer, though they remained obscured by a dense stand of cordgrass.

I'm telling you, this stuff works wonders, one man said, his gruff voice tinged with excitement. Just look at how the plants are growing here - it's insane!

Yeah, yeah, I see it, the other man replied impatiently. But what the hell are we supposed to do with super-plants, huh? This ain't what we came here for.

Wally edged forward, parting the stalks of grass silently to get a view of the men. They stood amongst vegetation glowing an eerie neon blue, towering abnormally high above their heads. The first man gestured enthusiastically at the bizarre flora.

There's gotta be a way to make money off this, he continued. Ain't nobody else got plants growing like this. We could sell 'em to some crazy scientist or...I dunno, start our own nursery!

The second man scoffed. A nursery? You been drinking seawater? We got a good thing going here smuggling in the usual cargo. I say we ditch this scifi gardening crap and focus on what we do best.

Wally's eyes widened as understanding dawned on him. These men were not horticulturists - they were drug smugglers, using the remote island as their staging ground. He had stumbled upon a major operation, it seemed.

Easy there, the first man said. No need to do anything drastic yet. We gotta figure this out, see if there's an angle we can work here. Ain't ever seen anything like this...

His voice trailed off as they stared at the mysterious glowing flora, contemplating their next move. Wally had heard enough. Moving silently, he slipped back through the cordgrass to brief his friend on the true nature of their activities here on Bird Island.

JEFF, WALLY WHISPERED as he approached their rendezvous point, his eyes glinting with determination.

Jeff was leaning against Seawings's hull, his arms folded across his chest. He turned towards Wally at the sound of his name, his face betraying a hint of worry.

I've got news, Wally began, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. We're dealing with smugglers.

Smugglers? he echoed, disbelief etched in his voice.

Wally nodded solemnly. They're up to something big, he explained. And they're using our island as their playground.

The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on them both. Their haven was under threat, invaded by those with no respect for its natural beauty or ecological significance.

But we need to outsmart them, Wally continued, his voice resolute. We can't let them ruin Bird Island.

A silence hung between them as Jeff absorbed the news. Then, with a firm nod, he broke the silence. So what's our plan?

Wally glanced towards the thick foliage from where he'd just returned, the bioluminescent glow now visible in the growing darkness. We need to make them lose interest in this place, he said. They must believe that whatever they've found here is not worth their time or risk.

Jeff studied Wally for a moment before asking, How do we do that without revealing ourselves?

We need to use their ignorance against them, Wally replied, a glimmer of a plan forming in his mind. They don't know what's causing the plant growth, and we need to keep it that way.

He looked back at the bioluminescent glow. They think they've stumbled onto something valuable, but what if it turned out to be dangerous instead?

Jeff's eyes widened as he caught on to Wally's train of thought. So we make them believe they're messing with something that could backfire?

Exactly, Wally confirmed. They're here for easy profit. If we introduce an element of risk, something that could endanger their operation or themselves, they'll back off.

The two men stood in silent agreement, their resolve strengthening under the starlit sky. They would protect Bird Island at all costs. Their clandestine operation had just begun.

WALLY PACED ALONG THE sandy shoreline, mind racing as he formulated a strategy to deter the smugglers from Bird Island. The men had already caused enough damage with their careless disposal of experimental fertilizers. Wally needed to convince them that their presence here was perilous, without actually harming the island's ecosystem.

His friend Jeff sat nearby, fiddling with a makeshift net for catching specimens of the glowing blue plants. We've got to scare them off for good, Wally muttered, boots scuffing the sand.

Jeff glanced up. I know. But how?

Wally paused, staring out at the moonlit bay. A breeze rustled through the oak trees, carrying with it a familiar odor. Wally inhaled sharply. Poison ivy!

What? Jeff asked.

That's it! Wally exclaimed. Remember those thick poison ivy vines all around the eastern cove? That stuff doesn't hurt the environment, just irritates human skin like crazy.

Jeff's eyes widened with understanding. So if we transfer it onto surfaces the smugglers frequent...

We can convince them this place is hazardous without actually damaging anything, Wally finished eagerly. C'mon, let's start harvesting.

Working quickly under the moonlight, the two friends gathered armfuls of the toxic vines, taking care to avoid contact with their skin. At the smugglers' known spots—the bunker, the western dock, the worn footpaths—Wally and Jeff smeared crushed leaves and sap.

Soon their trap was set, the poison ivy diluted but still potent. Wally hoped this passive deterrent would be enough to convince the smugglers that Bird Island's mysteries weren't worth the risk. As he and Jeff headed back to Jeff's homestead, Wally felt assured that