Synopsis:
A nuclear conflagration - the outcome of a world rife with war, poverty, terror and a shredded ecology - renders the earth desolate. All living species face imminent extinction. The Seas intervene to prevent this. Using tsunamis and Mermaids/Mermen, some humans and other species are rescued and cocooned in the lost underwater realm of Atlantis.
The Atlantean Merfolk return humans to earth after centuries. Humans pledge to abolish violence and refrain from repeating the destructive mistakes of their ancestors.
The human New World Order, however, suffers a reversal of fortune when a sinister faction of the ruling Council - the
Atavida - sieze power with help from extra-terrestrials.
The Atlanteans ally with human liberation forces to defeat the Atavida and expel aliens. This is only possible through the workings of a great Portend and an endangered leader-to-be.
Extract from Chapter 2:
Since his banishment from the Atavida-controlled Council of Sages, Mamood-the-Good had long ceased to comprehend the meaning of peace and personal stability. Yet after decades of deadly hide and seek with the dreaded Atavida, he was still unwilling to give up his very difficult life. He resolutely refused to entertain neither any thoughts of mortification, nor
notions of quitting. Regrets and capitulation had no place in his personal belief system. The Portend had undoubtedly
decreed his existence to be tempestuous and he had long since come to terms with it. Labouring in the service of the
Portend gave ample meaning to his life.
Mamood viewed the issues at stake as being of much more importance than himself or any personal comforts that could be his. He also regarded them to be of even greater magnitude than the opposition Council of Redemption that he so faithfully served. To him, the Council itself mainly existed for one paramount reason - to employ any means to ensure that the
Portend came to pass. That also meant to prevent the derailment of the Portend by the mysterious workings of chance or those lurking surprises that life always has in such inexhaustible supply. His own obligations were equally clear.
The Atavida should never apprehend him, and he had to save Her, come what may!
Mamood sat on a carved redwood stool in front of his camouflaged cave midway up the wooded slopes of the Wawa Ranges in the African land, formerly known as Ghana during the previous age of Erstwhile Earth. His personal bodyguards were in attendance but stationed forty paces away, forming a crescent perimeter covering the cave's frontage. Though
ostensibly safe from prying eyes in such a remote location, Mamood knew enough not to take chances, hence the
bodyguards. The Atavida enemy had a long reach indeed.
Mamood was grappling with shock, staring at his wife, Zafar. The woman, who had for decades been his backbone in his extraordinarily difficult quest, now appeared to doubt him. This meant she doubted the Portend too! ‘But how could she
harbour such negative thoughts after so many years of suffering, sacrifices and a destabilizing life on the run, as people of never a fixed abode?’ - he asked himself, aghast at her prevarication.
His stare, however, was having no effect on his wife:
“How are you going to save the Bloom?” - She asked him.
“ I don't know as yet” - he replied, his face mirroring his disbelief.
“What do you mean by that?” - Zafar persisted.
“The Portend says it is I who will save her and I'm still searching, which you're well aware of so why this interrogation?”
“This is ridiculous You've said year after year that the Bloom is our only salvation. And is it not your duty to save her and thus save us all? Is she not the one to neutralise the cursed Atavida? I've never doubted you Mamood. But if at this late stage you still don't know, then maybe the Portend is not as accurate as you think and where does that leave us?”
Mamood continued to stare at his wife's pretty but aging face, his thoughts centring on her. She was a good woman; a
loving wife and a wise and able partner. Life had capriciously withheld the blessing of children from her and it was
probably just as well, since being of never a fixed abode did not quite auger well for child bearing and nurturing. But she was not bitter and had spent a good part of her life supporting his dangerously 'subversive' devotion to the Portend.
She herself has consequently never much been out of harm's way.
Pained by her insufferable persistence, Mamood stood to reply. Clad in a plain black smock with matching togas, he stood reasonably tall at just over six feet, his build slender but tough. His originally handsome features, however seemed to have lost out to the leathery, craggy parchment of facial skin he had acquired from constant battle with the elements as a
necessary part of his ceaseless searches and flight. His grizzly salt and peppered hair, both on his head and on his face, though kept close to his skin, had otherwise been left to their own devices. He had neither time nor vanity to attempt
cosmetic grooming of any sort. His policy for his person was to stay scrupulously clean and as to the rest, well let them do as they would!
He spoke firmly, with deep feeling. “My wife, please don't ever doubt the Portend. We've both lived much of our lives in its service. But have you now become a non-believer, sowing seeds of doubt in my mind to undermine the mutual faith that has sustained us all these years? Are you now the fabled biblical temptress Eve of Erstwhile Earth, seeking to destabilize our most important beliefs? Are all our sacrifices to be in vain? Just leave me alone and hold your peace. This is too much to digest now.”
The woman, however, remained unfazed, her eyes not wavering either. She stood to face him, decidedly declining to hold her peace. Zafar was not so lean but much assured in her demeanour. Like him she was Caucasian, a rare and currently
unpopular breed since the creeping reinstitution of racism into their troubled New World Order. Her chest had a natural
forward thrust to it that appeared challenging, her not insignificant breasts firm and upstanding for her fifty-year sojourn on earth. She stood a head shorter than him.
Equally resolute, she replied: “This is precisely my question. Is it all to be for nothing? My life as you know has been to support you and what we both believe despite harrowing consequences. But I ask because I worry. I appear to taunt because we need meaningful answers! But never question my faith, Mamood or my loyalty. Never!”
Mamood now clearly understood his wife's meaning. Her eyes said it all. She was as sincere as ever, as supportive as ever. Perhaps, he had reacted negatively to her forthrightness because he himself was secretly beset with worry, which was rare for him. In fact, in spite of what the host of engraved lines that criss-crossed his leathery face seemed to imply, he was usually someone who could hardly ever be ruffled, going through the passage of his tumultuous life with an easy elegant
attitude. But things were different now. 'Maybe she can see signs of my disquiet and seeks to bring my concerns out in the open as a good partner ought to do' - he thought to himself.
In deeper contemplation, Mamood sat down again. Zafar sat as well, lost in her own thoughts. Mamood shifted his
unfaltering gaze from her, transferring it to the cracks of pale grey skies he could see through the intricate, latticed patterns woven by the intertwining tree branches and leaves. The skies had been hinting at rainfall all morning but with no actual rain in sight. The strident, purposeful breeze, that usually dispelled the uncomfortable humidity while serving as harbinger of light amicable showers, was not having its usual cathartic effect on him.
Irritated by the never-ending trickeries of the weather and of life itself, he now turned his gaze on the hefty rows of tree trunks that stood like strong, silent, ever-watchful sentinels, keeping his temporary abode concealed. He reflected that things were now becoming different, the stakes even higher. The foretold signs heralding the coming of age of the Portend were unfolding rapidly and falling into place. And he Mamood had an indispensable role to play in this up-coming life-drama, which was to have life-altering implications for all species. And come what may, he had to fulfill his part. Such was his destiny.
“ I have to go,” he said to his wife.
“I know”, she replied calmly and got up to help him prepare once more for what appeared to be his never-ending journey in search of the very necessary but so-far-elusive Bloom. After all, without the survival of the Bloom - there would be
nothing left to live for. They would all be do doomed!...
