The Scream Of An Eagle: Thermals Of Time - Book One: Thermals Of Time, #1

THE SCREAM OF AN EAGLE

MARCUS LYNN DEAN

The Scream Of An Eagle is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and institutions are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, places, or events, either living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

copyright © 2019 By Marcus Lynn Dean

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author: Marcus.Dean@LastDitchPress.com

Published by: The Last Ditch Press - Bella Vista, AR

www.lastditchpress.com

ISBN: 978-1-7346746-0-6 Paperback

ISBN: 978-1-7346746-6-8 Ebook

For Karen

The love of my life

PART ONE

Somewhere high overhead, the chilling sound of an eagle’s scream pierces the quiet stillness of the Colorado morning. The Eagle; of all creatures, the one most loved by the Great Spirit. The eagle teaches the story of life. The man remembers first hearing the legend of the eagle when he was very young. From the veranda where he sits, he can’t see the eagle. It is shielded from view by the overhang of the roof. From his vantage point, he sees only a couple of turkey buzzards circling just above the horizon to the northeast. He watches as the buzzards glide down toward the earth. A thought occurs to the man – the story of life always ends in death .

Chapter 1

There was, of course, nothing that the Federal Reserve could do to stop the collapse at that point. Just as there was nothing that the IMF or the rest of the world’s central banks could do. They had already done way too much. The quantitative easing and debt burdens that had prevented the world’s economies from going over the cliff in 2008 had served mainly to astronomically increase the height of that cliff. The climb to the top of that economic peak was decades in the making. The fall, once the economy went over the edge, was a precipitous drop; wiping out those decades of economic gains in just a few short weeks. Fortunately for the world’s bankers and elites, having long ago seen what was coming, plans were already in place to take advantage of the crisis.

Robert Mendez sat in the same chair at the same large desk in the same office that he had occupied for the last seven years. The office was on the top floor of a major bank building in downtown Denver. The sign on his office door read Robert James Mendez – Senior VP. He had been promoted to Senior Vice President in charge of the investment division seven years ago, nearly to the day. Under Robert’s investment guidance the bank’s value, and the shareholders net worth, as well as his own, had grown astronomically. Now, all but the wealthiest and most powerful of those shareholders, and all of the common people who had deposits in the bank were pretty much losing everything.

The three large computer displays on Robert’s desk looked almost the same as they had for his entire tenure here. There were, however, some striking differences. The series of ticker tapes still scrolled continuously across the screen on the left, but instead of a series of stock and market listings and numbers, each ticker continuously displayed the same message; MARKETS CLOSED. All of the world’s financial markets had been forced to close. The world’s economic systems were totally frozen.

The central screen showed the same email inbox that it always had. The only difference was the incredible number of unread email messages sitting in wait.

The third screen, the one on the right, was the one that had captured Robert’s attention.

The third screen was the one with his favorite newsfeed. He had the volume muted but sat spellbound by the images on the screen. They were mostly a series of views from cities all over the United States, as well as most of the rest of the world. Views of riots in the streets, the rioters anger focused on governments and banks all over the world. Banks that had been locked down, the flow of money shut down completely, as governments and central bankers tried to figure out what to do now. As bank depositors rioted to get their money out of the banks, Robert sat there and knew that the money the depositors thought they had securely stashed away was an illusion. The money had always been, in reality, just an illusion. The world’s governments and central banks, the Federal Reserve of the United States and the IMF had, over time, created the world’s largest Ponzi scheme; and now, that Ponzi scheme was unraveling and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. Robert, along with the rest of the world, was now just a witness to the greatest economic disaster of all time. A disaster that would, in later years, come to be known simply as The Catastrophe.

He decided that it might be best to just go home. Not that there was any chance of rioters being able to breach the bank’s security, but there was nothing he could do at this point to change a thing. No, nothing to be done now, he thought. It would be a few days before he would need to be back at his desk. It would take a little time for the Federal Reserve and the International Monetary Fund to implement their long-planned policies. If the rabble was protesting now, wait until they saw what came next. Oh, they’d be able to get some of their money out of the banks, but there would be a catch. Most people would be demanding cash, and cash they would get, in strictly limited quantities, of course. But they’d get something else along with the cash they withdrew, they’d get a brand-new tax; a tax on cash.

Most people hadn’t given much thought to the tiny magnetic strip that had been placed in bills over the past few decades. They had no idea how that little strip would be used to, once again, force them to bail out the big banks. Robert Mendez knew. Relatively simple really, charge interest on deposits, and let them take the cash out to avoid that interest. Then, when they spend that cash, that tiny little magnetic strip in the bills electronically takes a percentage of the transaction. A truly amazing construct – a tax on cash. A tax that, just like previous bailouts, goes back to where wealth truly belongs, in the hands of the elite few who rule the world’s economies and, by extension, the world’s governments. Robert may not have been in the very upper echelon of that elite group yet, but he had his plans. He knew his stock in the bank would have to become forfeit, and that it would have to appear that upper bank management had lost a great deal of wealth. He also knew that appearances of loss can be very deceiving.

He took one more look at the three screens on his desk before shutting them down. The elevator that was just across the hall from his office door took him directly to the second level of underground parking. He threw his briefcase into the back seat of the Cadillac SUV, slowly drove up the ramp that came out in the alley behind the bank, and headed home to Castle Pines.

Chapter 2

Summertime at last! He had been anticipating spending some time out at his Grandpa’s ranch since school started ten months ago. At twelve years old, it wasn’t that he didn’t have friends and playmates, but they just couldn’t compete with the Blue River Ranch on the western slope near Kremmling. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he was especially looking forward to spending time with Anna.

James, you have to promise me that you will do whatever Grandpa asks. I still don’t feel very good about sending you out there by yourself. James smiled at the worried look on his mother’s face.

I’ll be fine, Mom. Maybe you and Dad can drive out and pick me up, so I don’t have to ride the train back.

Noni Mendez smiled at her son. It had been five years since the Catastrophe, and the world seemed to be getting somewhat back to normal. Public transportation was probably as safe as it had ever been, and she knew that somewhere in the crowd of people getting on the train, there would be at least one member of the Mendez security team. Someone whose sole purpose in being on the train was to keep Robert Mendez’ heir safe. It had been Robert’s idea to let James experience travel with the masses. Noni wasn’t really worried about her son’s safety. What really bothered her, more than letting James go to Kremmling by himself, was a longing to go with him. A longing to return to her childhood home.

I know you’ll be fine, James, she tried to hide her longing from her son. It’s your Grandpa I’m worried about. He’s not getting any younger, you know. You just make sure you help him every way you can.

Grandpa Chuck didn’t seem old at all to James. In a lot of ways, Grandpa Chuck seemed to be in better shape than his dad. Of course, it was probably easier to stay in shape as a rancher than it was sitting behind a desk on the top floor of an office in Denver, even if the office had its own private gym.

Grandpa’s not old, he can probably still ride circles around most anybody else on the ranch.

He’s probably right, she thought. Dad probably can still ride circles around most anybody. She grabbed James by both shoulders, amazed once again that her little boy was nearly as tall as she was. And his shoulders seemed so broad and strong.

I know you’re right James, I just worry about him more since your Grandma died. Wish he didn’t have to be all alone on that great big ranch.

James put his arms around his mother and hugged her.

You know, Mom, he’s not really alone. He has the whole Duran family living just down the lane in the old house. You just wish we could live there too, instead of here.

Noni hugged her only son. He knows me too well, she thought, as tears formed in her dark brown eyes. I told myself I wouldn’t cry.

***

The train ride from Denver to the small town of Kremmling, Colorado was long and slow. At times it seemed like he could have made better time walking. It was one of the combo trains that had been put together in the years after the Catastrophe. With most people no longer able to afford the costs of personal transportation, the quickest solution to transport problems was to add some passenger cars to freight trains to better facilitate mass transit. This particular train had both; one of the old Amtrak cars, and one of the new people mover cars that had been designed to carry more people on shorter trips. It also had ninety-eight freight cars, at least twenty of which were empty coal cars, and thirty loaded fuel cars; as well as the usual thirty or forty blue tanker cars that carried water to the parched west. The whole thing was pulled and pushed over the mountains by three diesel-powered locomotives in the front and two in the rear. All along the way, there were signs of the construction projects that were running power lines along the tracks. Power lines that would, someday, enable the replacement of the diesel locomotives with electrics.

James was lucky enough to get one of the window seats in the new people mover car, where he could watch the scenery slowly passing by. At the moment, the scenery was at a standstill as the train sat on one of the sidings, waiting for another train coming from the west to pass. The only things making much progress were the water in the river and the trucks and a few cars on the old highway across the canyon from the parked train. James had seen this canyon from the other side a few times in his young life, as he and his mother had traveled along highway 40 back and forth from Denver to Kremmling. Most times when they traveled by car, they used I-70 through the old tunnels instead of driving over Berthoud Pass. As he thought about those trips, he realized that he could only recall his father accompanying them once. That was when his grandmother had died. He was very young at the time. The trips by car were always much faster than this trip by train, even though, to James, it always seemed to take forever. James remembered seeing trains on this side of the canyon from Highway 40 on the other side of the river, but this was the first time he had ever seen old Highway 40 from this vantage point.

Still seems odd to see so little traffic on the old highway, the older man seated next to James said. Of course, you’re probably too young to remember what it was like before; before the Catastrophe that is.

James had been mostly trying to ignore the man, but the man was one of those people who can’t help but talk to people, whether they’re being ignored or not. James actually could remember when, what everyone now called the Catastrophe, had happened, but he didn’t have many memories of the way things were before. He had only been seven years old when his dad came home from the bank, locked the big iron gates at the entrance to their driveway and told him not to dare leave the premises.

When I was your age, the man continued, "that highway was filled with vehicles of all kinds. It was bumper to bumper traffic, especially on weekends. Now look at it, a few of the autonomous freight haulers and even fewer cars. Only rich folk can afford to travel by car anymore. Normal people can’t even afford fuel for their old clunkers, let alone the price of a new EV.

James couldn’t help but notice the contempt in the man’s voice, especially when he spoke of rich folk. He hadn’t given too much thought to it before, but he knew that his family was included in the rich folk that the man spoke of. After all, the Mendez family always traveled by car. Robert Mendez had just recently made his yearly purchase of a brand-new Cadillac. It was totally electric, but what impressed James the most was the seating arrangement. It had two seats in front and two seats in the rear facing each other with a sort of console table in the middle. The two doors, one on each side between the seats, were nearly all glass, offering all four passengers fantastic views of whatever scenery was passing by. No one actually drove the car; the computer that was built into the center console drove the car. James wished he was in that car now, speeding along that old highway on the other side of the river.

How long do we have to sit here? James asked the man who had spoken to him.

Not much longer now. The man replied, just as the east-bound train started flashing by the window on the other side of the train. Where you headed, anyway?

James felt a little bit uneasy about telling the stranger much, so he just said, Kremmling, and turned back to the window.

Kremmling, huh, that’s my next stop as well. Bud Johnson, the man said, thrusting his hand out to shake.

James could see the extended hand from the corner of his eye, so he turned toward the man and shook hands. James Mendez, he said, I’m going to visit my grandpa. He didn’t really know what else to say, so that was it.

Business trip for me, Bud Johnson was a salesman. That was obvious even to a twelve-year-old boy. I’m with Pro Foods, meeting with some of the ranchers out there.

James, like most people, had never heard of Pro Foods, but he did catch the part about meeting with ranchers. My Grandpa’s a rancher, he said. His name’s Chuck Pierson.

What a coincidence, your Grandpa’s one of the ranchers I want to meet with. Pro Foods wants to buy all your Grandpa’s cattle. We’re going to revolutionize the way America eats.

***

The big old 2019 Ford dually truck was the only vehicle James had ever known his Grandpa to drive. As they dodged the potholes in Highway 9, James wondered why Grandpa Chuck didn’t get one of the new autonomous vehicles, maybe even electric instead of diesel.

Grandpa how come you still drive this same old truck? he asked. He didn’t think his grandpa was poor. He wasn’t like so many of the people back on the eastern slope who couldn’t afford to own or drive a personal vehicle at all.

Well James, I bought this truck new back in 2018 when we had a president who was making America great again. At the time, I really believed we were on the road to great things. Guess it’s just a reminder of better times. Besides, being a rancher, I get enough fuel subsidy to help pay for the high cost of diesel. Besides that, I don’t much like electric vehicles. Suppose I’m just old fashioned.

It was about a twenty-mile drive south on Highway 9 from Kremmling to the confluence of Spider Creek and the Blue River, where the Blue River Ranch was located. On that drive, Chuck and James only met one other vehicle. James noticed that it was also an old beat up looking ranch truck, and Chuck waved at the driver as they met.

Wonder why John’s headed to town? He muttered, as much to himself as to James. The ranchers who lived sparsely scattered out through this part of the country didn’t make the trip to Kremmling very often. Chuck, himself, tried to limit the trip to about once a month. Probably just needs to stock up, he thought to himself. Hope he can find what he needs, shortages are definitely getting to be more common than they used to be.

Have you got a horse ready for me to ride? James’ question interrupted his grandpa’s thoughts. Does Anna know I’m coming? He was getting more excited as they got closer to the ranch.

Whoa, I thought you came out here to see me, not Anna. Chuck teased. As for a horse, I have a surprise for you this year. I’m going to let you pick your own out of the herd. If you can catch it and ride it, I’ll give it to you for your birthday.

James blushed slightly at the tease about Anna and then frowned. Dad won’t let me have a horse, Grandpa. You know that, he said.

Chuck smiled. Guess it’ll just have to be our little secret. Your horse can live here on the ranch and it’ll be yours whenever you’re here. Your dad doesn’t even need to know. Then the thought occurred to the old rancher that it might be fun if Robert Mendez did know about the horse, just to piss him off.

***

James was watching anxiously as they drove up the lane to the Blue River Ranch headquarters, but there was no sign of anyone, let alone Anna. Chuck pulled the big Ford truck into the metal shop building near the big house.

Where is everyone? James asked.

The Durans are all helping get the herd up to the high country. Had to trail them up this year, diesel’s too expensive to haul ‘em. All but Shelly, that is. I bet she’s in the house getting dinner ready. You looking for Anna? Chuck teased, knowing that was the case.

Ralph and Cody and Anna all got to help move the herd? James asked, careful to put Ralph and Cody, Anna’s younger brothers, ahead of her. Wish I’d got here sooner, so I could help, too. Trailing the herd seemed like a great adventure to James.

They’ve been out for three days. Should be home this evening. It’s a long ride up to Elk Park and back. Think you’re up to three full days in the saddle?

Sure – I love riding. James was as certain as he sounded, the inexperience and optimism of youth blinding him to the rigors of three long days on horseback.

It was almost dusk when James heard the sound of hooves on the graveled lane behind the big house. He’d been sitting on the front porch; Grandpa Chuck was inside. He jumped up and ran to the corner of the house to meet them. Anna was in the lead riding Pintada, her black and white paint, followed by her brothers, Ralph and Cody. The two boys were riding side by side, and Clyde Duran, the longtime ranch foreman, was bringing up the rear. Clyde was leading three pack horses in a line behind him. The pack saddles were all but empty. They’d been used to haul supplies for the two cowboys that would spend the summer with the herd up in the high country. Someone, normally Clyde, would be making that trek with fresh supplies every couple of weeks for the rest of the summer. It would only be a two-day ride, now that the herd was already up there,