Dane turned to Ahana. “I know ozone is important. But I don’t know why. Exactly what is it? What form is it in and how could we get some?”
Ahana paused, assimilating the questions, and then answered … Ozone consists of three oxygen molecules bonded together. It actually makes up a surprisingly small percentage of the atmosphere-or did. If compressed into one layer, ozone would be a very thin band in the stratosphere less than a tenth of inch thick. However. This small amount is spread in a band about twenty kilometers wide in the stratosphere.”
Dane held up a hand interrupting her. “Where exactly is the stratosphere?”
Ahana pointed up. “From here to an altitude of fifteen kilometers is the troposphere. 1be five kilometers above that is a transition zone, then you hit the stratosphere, which extends mother twenty to fifty kilometers.”
“I thought it was all just air.” Dane said. “Oxygen. With carbon dioxide and water in the forms of clouds.” He felt ignorant. But he’d learned early in his Army career to ask the stupid question if it could get information that could save his life and, in this case, perhaps the planet.
“The atmosphere is indeed mostly oxygen, which is formed by photosynthesis. Ozone. As I said, is three oxygen molecules bonded together. At the very top of the atmosphere, high-energy ultraviolet radiation from the sun hits oxygen molecules-which is 02 They split into single oxygen molecules. Some of these single molecules, as they circulate down, bond to form 03 which, in turn, rises and is broken down again and descends in a perpetual cycle.”
“All right. I know what it is and where it is, but why’s it so important that we’ll all be dead soon because it’s gone?”
‘”Ozone screens long-wave ultra-violet-C light and the majority of ultraviolet-B radiation. Although the most immediate threat would be various forms of skin cancer if exposed to se types of radiation, it also does other things. Deeper inside our bodies, our immune systems would be suppressed if exposed to high levels of these wavelengths of light. Various viruses, such as chicken pox, HIV and papilloma would be activated or re-activated by exposure to UV-B. Increased exposure to UV has also been linked to elevated risk of malaria, tuberculosis, leprosy, and various infections including e. coli.”
“All this just because we get more direct sunlight?”
“More unfiltered sunlight,” Ahana corrected. “It would also lessen the effect of vaccinations. And you have to remember, it’s not just humans who are going to be effected. Every living thing on the surface of the planet, including plant life, will be affected negatively. No one is really sure which part of the ecological system will collapse first. But there’s no doubt something will go relatively quickly. Then, the chain reaction of disaster will become an avalanche. Most people have no idea how inter-reliant all living things on the planet are.”
Ahana wasn’t done. “Radiation also causes mutations. Although most people think of mutations in the science-fiction term of five-legged dogs, it’s much more serious than that. Mutations happens quicker the faster something reproduces. Bacteria and viruses reproduce at a phenomenal pace. We could see new deadly forms within weeks, if not days, occurring much faster than science’s ability to fight them. We’re still trying to deal with HIV — imagine a dozen new strains occurring next week.”
Dane was beginning the feel bad about asking. He’d hoped the threat would be simple and that perhaps there would be a simple solution. But it appeared the only solution was to replace the ozone layer.
‘’Can we manufacture ozone?”
“Yes. But nowhere near the quantities needed now.”
“Is there any place where we can find a large source of ozone?”
“Not on this planet. The Shadow saw to that.”
“Then we’ll have to go get some,” Dane said.
CHAPTER SIX
Robert Frost disliked the cold intensely, and he was bitter both because he had not listened closely enough, soon enough. And because now that he was listening, this is where he ended up. He had an intense headache, a sign of something impending. The sun was still below the horizon, but the rays were stronger, bouncing off the cloud cover above. The clouds were swirling as if a storm was brewing. Frost looked about, searching the desolate terrain and trying hard to ignore e pain and keep his mind open for a message.
Frost had first heard the voices when he was nine. His mother told him he shared her gift for what she called “second hearing” and “second sight.” He had not been impressed with the gifts. His father died when he was eleven, leaving his family with only eight dollars. They were forced to move to New England, where his hatred of the cold began.
Standing on the bridge atop the sail of the Nautilus, Frost coughed several times, trying to clear a blockage in his throat that had been there for a week. He wasn’t sure if it was related.0 the cold or something to do with what had-happened to the planet south of them and was slowly making its way north. His hair felt electrified, and he “heard” faint whispers. He wished the voices were louder and more specific. He’d tried. It wasn’t much consolation at the moment. but he had tried.
In late 1946, he’d seen a vision of a large, round flying craft at the South Pole. Along with the sight had come an intense feeling of dread. There was pending danger, of that he b.ad pad no doubt. He’d gone to Washington to try to get someone to act.
· He knew the power of words. But something went wrong. He hadn’t used the words correctly. He knew that because no one believed him. Was it too late?
The hatch opened and Captain Anderson appeared, along with an ensign carrying a wooden box. Frost followed them as they climbed down the ladder on the side of the sail, reaching tile broken ice. They carefully maneuvered around the large blocks until they were clear. “Where?” Captain Anderson asked.
Frost closed his eyes, then pointed. ‘’That way.”
Hey moved another hundred meters when Frost held up his hand. “Here.”
The ensign put the box down on the ice. Frost unlocked the top and flipped it open. Inside rested a crystal skull with a dull blue glow deep inside.
“Now what”
“We wait”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Crazy Horse sprinkled dirt from a gopher hole over his body and then over the horse he was mounted on. He ignored the stares of the other young warriors around him on Lodge Trail Ridge. He· was already painted for battle, with a lightning bolt on his face and hailstones on his body. The dirt, which he always carried in a small leather satchel around his neck, was because of a vision-dream he had had a few years previously, where the “voices” had told him that the dirt would protect him from bullets. Because he had yet to be shot at, he had no idea whether there was truth to the vision. But his mother had taught him to trust such things. She had assured him he had the “eye” as she had and her mother before her lad and that he must pay close attention to whatever it showed him.
He could hear shots from the northwest, over the ridgeline where others of Red Cloud’s warriors had surrounded a group of woodcutters from the white man’s fort, which lay a mile and a half to the south, along the Bozeman Trail. Crazy horse, and the other four warriors with him, watched the fort loosely. They knew the shots could be heard inside the wooden palisade, and they could see blue coats running about.
“It is a good day to die,” Crazy Horse said, stretching his urns wide and pushing out his bare, painted chest. It might have been a good day to die, but it was a bad day to be practically naked. December in the Montana Territory, near the Big Horn Mountains. Was guaranteed to be cold. And the gray sky overhead hinted heavily of snow.