Season 2.5 - Blogisode 2.5

LOCATION: 8 MILES NORTH OF GAKONA, ALASKA

YESTERDAY

Sirens wail out into the Alaskan night. The near full moon hangs low to the South casting a twilight luminescence over the frozen tundra. Past the heaps of fresh and tinted snow, through the methodically chopped and planted tree lines sits the High Frequency Active Auroral Research Program’s Gakona station, burning to the heavens.

“How in the hell is this supposed to stop a fucking earthquake?!?”

Christian runs full on heavy through the knee deep blanket of crystal flake, away from the wall of blue flame that reaches up the night sky behind him.

Constantine rushes words through labored breathes, keeping tight pace behind Christian as they reach the tree line that separates the station from the rest of the indiscernible Alaskan north.

“You need… to first… understand… you need… Stop!”

Christian halts his progress, gripping the nearest tree with an outstretched arm, allowing the momentum to bring him to his knees at its side.

Constantine falls to knee and heel at his side.

After a seconds break to catch his breath Constantine speaks.

“You need to first understand that what the HAARP programs true intention is. You see this station is not meant to monitor the physical and electrical properties of the ionosphere as most believe. It is in fact designed to manipulate the ionosphere, in short, create weather.”

“You’re telling me that the HAARP station is a weather machine?”

“Well when you put it like that it sounds silly, but yes. This machine is meant to be used tomorrow to create a catastrophic earthquake reaching between Vancouver and LA, the same quake that acted as a catalyst to all of the madness and destruction that eventually lead to the collapse of our society between the years 2010 and 2012.”

“So what, we prevent the quake and now the world doesn’t end?”

Constantine allows a small chuckle to roll out from behind his tongue.

“Hardly, this is only one of many precursors to the end of man and certainly not one of any major weight. All this will do is provide a momentary nuisance for the ones behind your earth’s catastrophic spiral. Secondly, we didn’t stop the earthquake, we just moved it.”

“To where?”

“I wish I knew.”

The flames flicker and snap as the intricate web of wires and steel snap and contort to the ground below. The sirens fizzle and then vanish behind the sound of snap, crackle and pop.

“What about the kid?”

“Who Liam? I think it’s safe to assume he didn’t make it.”


LOCATION: VICTORIA, BRITISH COLUMBIA

LAST WEDNESDAY

Christian and Constantine stand at the front door of the second floor apartment, rest atop the quaint store front, flower shop and concrete lot.

“So tell me again about this guy?”

“He’s a class four prophet. I understand that you’re not yet familiar with what that means but put simply he’s very important. The term prophet, in our context, is meant to describe someone with a deep and clear vision of a thing that exists on this earth, either in time or space, that he or she has yet to encounter in their day to day lives. A class four prophet is a dormant prophet, someone who does not know what he knows.”

“I’m sorry I asked.”

“Bottom line, without him we won’t be able to complete our task.”

“And what task is that.”

Constantine turns to Christian, a smirk round the corner of his lip.

“That’s what we’re here to find out.”

He lifts his knuckle to the door and knocks three times.

“Constantine, exactly how do we get information out of someone, about something they’ve never seen, that they don’t know they know?”

Christian looks across at his companion to see the chiseled fragments of glistening green and black scale covering his face, the thick razor fangs hinting on his bottom lip, eyes black and yellow, void of soul.

“We scare it out of him.”

The lock clicks from inside the apartment, the door swings wide.


TODAY

A television set illuminates a silent street corner in downtown Vancouver, pitching out from a storefront window.

The news anchor on screen speaks from a teleprompter as images of death and carnage slideshow behind his right shoulder.

“Authorities in Chile put the official death toll from Saturday's 8.8-magnitude quake at 214, but said they believed the number would grow. They said 1.5 million Chileans were affected and 500,000 homes severely damaged by the mammoth temblor.

President Michelle Bachelet, who leaves office March 11, declared a "state of catastrophe" in central Chile. Bachelet said the government had not asked for assistance from other countries. If it does, President Barack Obama said, the United States "will be there." Around the world, leaders echoed his sentiment.

As night fell Saturday, about a dozen men and children sat around a bonfire in the remains of their homes in Curico, a town 122 miles (196 kms) south of the capital, Santiago.

"We were sleeping when we felt the quake, very strongly. I got up and went out the door. When I looked back my bed was covered in rubble," said survivor Claudio Palma.
Fabian Miners, 22, was put in charge of tallying damages in Curico and surrounding villages. He said he had counted 90 deaths in the area, mainly people over 50 or 60 who could not get out of their falling adobe-walled homes in time.”