I see a line of cars and they're all painted black. With flowers and my love both never to come back. I see people turn their heads and quickly look away. Like a new born baby it just happens every day.

At the very top of Woodall Mountain in Mississippi sat a small square structure made of cinder blocks. Years ago local officials were told that the small building would house weather recording equipment for the National Weather Services. The building was surrounded by an eight foot high chain link fence that had razor wire adorning the top of it. A white vehicle with government plates sat parked along side the fence and had been there for two days unnoticed due to the lack of foot traffic in its remote location atop the mountain.

Far from the top of Woodall Mountain, in the coastal towns of Gulfport and Biloxi, residents were making preparations for an incoming storm. It wasn’t predicted to be an actual hurricane but rather a tropical storm. Some people just up and left while others boarded up windows and doors. They had been in this situation countless times before and they all knew the routine. The collection and cleanup of the oil spill had been halted some hours ago and was expected to resume shortly after the small storm had run its course.

Jen was told there would be a gathering at the Church. There, the parishioners would have fellowship and hear a sermon while they all waited out the storm. She actually looked forward to it because it was a change from her daily routine and she would be able to catch up with a few friends she had been meaning to see for some time now. She bought enough juice and snacks from the grocery store and was on her way to the Church for the meeting. Heading down highway ninety along the coast, the first few drops of rain from the storm began to accumulate on her windshield and she responded by turning on her wipers and headlights. She couldn’t have timed that trip to the store any better.

From within the small structure atop Woodall Mountain, a series of acknowledgments and commands were being relayed furiously. The communications were highly encrypted and anyone happening upon the signals would only hear static. There was a green glow from the monitors that illuminated the interior of the building slightly.

“Viper Two Seven receiving. Package is within my parameters and I am assuming control, over.”

The satellite imagery displayed a swirling mass of white on a green map that was dissected with intercrossing horizontal and vertical green lines. The man at the controls used two dials and watched the eastern most portion of the white mass suddenly expand two miles. He turned the dials back slowly as his parameters fell within their prescribed limits. He used two more dials and readjusted the western most portion of the white mass. As adjustments were being made, a small readout in the uppermost portion of the screen displayed a series of numbers form one to five. He had to keep that number between three and four for this project. The man then switched channels on his communications gear.

“This is Viper Two Seven, package is within my control parameters, establishing speed and course.” This was going to be tricky because he had to keep tidal flooding at a minimum. The man paused and rolled his chair over to another monitor. An infra red image of the coastal towns streamed by slowly. He could see the heat signatures of almost everyone gathered together in small groups here and there.

“Be advised, all Tangos are static. Marking Voodoo and possible remnants.” The man centered some cross hairs on a small church in Gulfport and clicked his mouse. He had marked all the pertinent positions in the days prior to today but there were a few more that he felt had to be added. There were always those that survived somehow and this time they had to make sure that those survivors would carry a specific message.

“All Voodoo established, corridors open, let loose your elves.” He then switched channels on his communications gear and rolled back to his green illuminated map. The man then connected with a facility in Gakona Alaska where he had received his long awaited package from.

“This is Viper Two Seven confirming control over package. Well done Mother, this one is eager.” He watched the outer perimeter of the white mass fluctuate with the slightest of adjustments from his instruments. This one should be a cake walk for him.

“This is Mother, your control is confirmed, Viper Two Seven you have the reigns, Mother out.” The communications gear beeped and then went silent. Viper Two Seven was able to concentrate on driving this very well formulated package to its recipients. The bulge in the ionosphere began making its way toward shore at great speeds, carrying with it all of the oil laden carcasses and tar balls that it could.

I look inside myself and see my heart is black. I see my red door and must have it painted black. Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts. It's not easy facin' up when your whole world is black. No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue I could not foresee this thing happening to you.

The storm was reported to be just a tropical depression but Jen couldn’t believe the wind at this point. If this was a tropical depression then she didn’t want to see what they considered to be a hurricane. She was able to see the trees blowing furiously through a small space between the planks of plywood that had been nailed to all of the windows in the Church. The local radio stations and electricity had gone down about an hour ago and all she and the rest of her Church members could do was wait it out at this point and pray.

The storm was guided directly over and through the massive spill in the Gulf. The seas churned up huge chunks of tar balls and oil soaked sea life. The storm gained strength as the oil laden bodies of dolphins and other creatures were blown toward the shore furiously. The hydrocarbons were evaporating out of the disturbed oil and tar balls rapidly creating a huge pocket of very volatile vapors.

The preacher took his place at the pulpit and urged everyone to sit for a moment. The candles illuminated the interior of the Church in an eerie yellow glow while the wind could be heard howling outside. All eyes were now on the preacher and he believed he had received a message that he needed to share with his congregation. It had come to him all of a sudden as he sat praying for the protection of the Gulf Coast.

Tears filled the Preachers eyes as he opened his Bible to the appropriate page. “Please follow along with me in the Book of Numbers chapter eleven.” He paused as he scanned the verses and the congregation hurriedly leafed through their pages under the dim candle light.

“We recall how God had freed the slaves from Egypt. We recall how glorious that time must have been. Soon though they forgot what God had done for them and they demanded more. They demanded more and were not pleased with the manna that God provided them on their journey. Their hearts had become darkened and they did not consider the awesome work that God was doing for them. So God gave them what they wanted.” A loud thud startled everyone suddenly as everyone’s eyes looked to the ceiling when the first large tar ball struck the Church roof and stuck.

“Never mind that my beloved. This is what we get now. We demanded more and more to make our lives simpler and easier. We lost sight of the awesome work that God was doing for us already. We demanded more and so we’ll get what we wanted.” Another loud roaring wind and a thud as the carcass of an oiled dolphin slammed into the exterior wall of the Church. Everyone nervously shifted in the pews as the rain’s cadence intensified.

“Read with me my beloved in Numbers chapter eleven verses nineteen through twenty.” A loud roar of wind followed by more thumps as tar balls began sticking all over the Church and surrounding houses and buildings. Tree branches strained against the force of the wind as more tar accumulated on their branches. The Preacher read.

"Ye shall not eat one day, nor two days, nor five days, neither ten days, nor twenty days; but even a whole month, until it come out at your nostrils, and it be loathsome unto you: because that ye have despised the LORD which is among you, and have wept before him, saying, Why came we forth out of Egypt?" The Preacher slammed his fist down and wept.

Jen was terrified. This was only supposed to be a small storm but it sounded like a full blown hurricane to her. She couldn’t wait for the Preacher to finish so she could peek outside quickly.

“So this is what we have done my beloved. We have demanded more and more and now we will get what we wanted until it comes out of our nostrils! Seek ye the Lord while He may be found and repent! Pray for forgiveness and protection!” The preacher closed his Bible and hung his head in prayer. More thumps could be heard with every gust of wind now as the entire coastline from Louisiana to Alabama was being pummeled with the bodies of dead sea animals and tar balls.

The small facility atop Woodall Mountain remained unaffected. The man inside concentrated on the placement of his package. The eye would soon be over the target areas and that was when he would be shutting it down. He switched on his communications gear.

“This is Viper Two Seven, package has been delivered. Next phase in four, three, two, and one.” The man reached across the console and lifted the cover that shielded a toggle switch. He put the switch in the down position and the ionosphere snapped back into its original shape.

The whole congregation had moved to the lowest part of the Church by now. The winds had gotten so bad that they feared the whole building would be moved off its foundation. Everyone sat huddled together praying fervently. Suddenly their ears all popped at the same time and the roaring winds ceased. They couldn’t believe it. Everyone looked at each other in disbelief and began smiling. Jen made her way upstairs quickly to see the devastation through the small crack that she had been looking through much earlier.

The scene was horrific. Everything was black. Large clumps of black were scattered as far as she could see. She knew right then and there that nothing would be the same. What she couldn’t see were the vapors that were accumulating heavily in the air.

The man inside the small facility atop Woodall Mountain watched the particulate count rise. As the ionosphere regained its shape it created a higher humidity and pressure and with it highly volatile and flammable hydrocarbons evaporated out of the tar balls and oil rapidly. The count was just about right now.

“This is Viper Two Seven, the air is fine, engaging flares. Standby gentlemen.” With the flick of a switch, prepositioned thermite flares were set ablaze all along the coast. They were hidden in transformers, mailboxes, cars and just about everywhere. From Louisiana to Alabama, the entire coast line exploded like it was one big thermobaric weapon.

The man locked the door behind him atop Woodall Mountain. He secured the gate and entered his vehicle as he surveyed the enormous plumes of smoke rising from the coastlines. He was heading East now. There was more work to be done.

Jen survived the blaze. She had third degree burns and it took her several years to recover fully. Her and the few remaining Church members that survived now lived to force legislation for a green economy. All along the coast people that survived the hurricane wanted nothing to do with oil anymore. There were committees and groups formed that unified under the banner, “Numbers”, and they had a very powerful influence on world affairs.

The severity of the storm was blamed on the oil spill of course. It was something that the experts had not seen before and they couldn’t account for the catastrophe that ensued. All of them agreed though, this could never be allowed to happen again.


[edit on 23-6-2010 by jackflap]

Wow, that is... a very thought out piece of writing .

It's fantastic and if this is one of your first, I can't wait for your next!

Good work

OOOOOOOO! Really eerie. Really really liked this one.
Storm steering, huh? I have always wondered why there has never been a storm to hit Cape Canaveral even though some looked like they were going to be direct hits. Lots of expensive equipment to protect there.

You may be onto something. If only we could prove what we suspect!

Wow! what a great story. Well written, I felt like I could be there.
Great concept. I liked it a lot.

Sweet Story Man!

Great concept! Very much enjoyed it man, great job!

Kind of make you wonder about Katrina also.

Great~of course. I expect no less from ATS' premiere fiction writer!

Fantastic Jack!

Always did love your writting.

What a rough contest to judge...

Thanks for contributing!

~Keeper

Jackflap,

Your story had me holding my breath from beginning to end. Actually, I looked to see how long it was and was disappointed that it ended so soon.

Oh well that's okay, it's a short story, I understand. So incredibly real feeling, it's like I was right there in the church, with the candlelight illuminating faces and jumping when tar balls and animals hit the building. Man that is some writing.

The message and delivery together drive a sense of omnipotence home for me. It's amazing how natural you switch scenes from the top of a hill to all along the coast via flares to the church to the pilot. Your smooth transitions add to the emotional tension of your story.

Good luck,

Toni

What an outstandingly written short story my friend. A very big star and flag for the exceptionally thought out effort in painting it for us all and a caution to others that while such a story might never be a reality it very well could become one and here is why.

During World War II, a tremendous amount of effort was placed on Secret Weapons by all sides.

Firestorms are one of the most destructive things in nature as anyone who survived the firestorm in Dresden Germany will sadly tell you.

A lot of experimentation was conducted on unusual ways to create a firestorm.

One of those happened to be American and it actually entailed capturing and training thousands upon thousands of bats.

Yes bats, and each one was outfitted with a tiny vial of oil, and a tiny vial of nitroglycerin hung about its neck and a small detonation device. Yes our Government actually spent big money and the better part of two years developing this project.

The plan was to release the bats in Tokyo and they would all naturally seek out high spaces throughout the city to light upon and hang up side down to rest during the day. Many of the cities structures were wooden and once they had all gone to roost the remote controlled detonators on the bats would be triggered creating a tiny fire in tens of thousands of locations all at once.

The Atomic Bomb eventually ended up shelving this plan, but this is just one example of the very devious and extreme ideas that can be employed, yes, by even the American Government when it’s aim is population reduction.

Keep in mind like the fire bombing of Dresden and the Atomic Bomb dropped on Hiroshima these were not military targets, but civilian population centers, with the governments including ours, bent on depopulating the citizens.

Think such things can’t happen, they surely have, and there is very little if anything at all to prevent them from happening again. Governments with absolute power of life and death, will use it!

Great story my friend.

Great story Jack. It made me wonder what kind of people it takes . . .
to light those flares. Sickies !

I liked "We lost sight of the awesome work that God was doing for us . . .
already !"

You are a great story-teller.