The Rainbow Warrior: Genesis

by C.G. Eberle

As Grandmother Earth retaliates against the ravages of industrial greed, natural disasters ravage the land, calling forth the one who would stand as a symbol of unity and protector of life. Alex, a seeker of his past, finds his future rewritten when he is imbued with powers that transcend human understanding—powers foretold by Native American legends.

The White Buffalo Calf Woman’s prophecy of a golden era hangs in the balance as Alex faces Regino Segel, a billionaire industrialist whose vision threatens the very fabric of existence. The Rainbow Warrior must navigate a path fraught with peril, where every choice resonates with the fate of the planet. This novel weaves a rich tapestry of cultural heritage and superhero lore, inviting readers to explore themes of identity, responsibility, and the interconnectedness of all beings. It is a clarion call to preserve the sanctity of life and honor the wisdom of those who walked before us.

Join Alex Harlow as he embraces his destiny, not just as a hero, but as a symbol of hope—the Rainbow Warrior.

Embark on the journey with “The Rainbow Warrior: Genesis,” where legend and destiny collide.

Excerpt

Prologue

Fact #1: According to scientists, a seiche (/ˈseɪʃ/ SAYSH) is a standing wave in an enclosed body of water. The most vital necessity for a seiche, is the body of water needs to be at least partially enclosed, allowing the formation of the standing wave, and they are customarily born when strong winds and rapid changes in atmospheric pressure push water from one end of a body of water to the other. When the wind stops, the water ricochets to the other side of the enclosed area. The water then continues to swing back and forth for hours or even days. On a small scale this can be seen in teacups, bathtubs, and swimming pools. On much larger scales this happens in lakes, as in the Great Lakes.

Lake Erie is known for seiches, especially when strong winds begin to blow southwest to northeast, which is what happened on October 18th, 1844. According to reports and the local media, a twenty-two-foot wall of water overflowed the lower districts of Buffalo, NY destroying many buildings, devastating a large area of the harbor front, and creating mayhem for the shipping industry. The Black Rock neighborhood was flooded with anywhere from two to eight feet of water. On the city’s east side, the water came as high as Seneca Street just below Michigan Avenue and completely covered the area. An accurate count of the dead was impossible to attain, due to a large number of homeless and destitute who were on the streets, and in the waterfront, who were swept back into Lake Erie, but at least seventy-five people were believed killed.

Fact #2: Calcite’s a crystalline mineral, and it’s been used in Ancient Egypt in carvings related to some of their goddesses. Nowadays it’s used in soil remediation and stabilization, and in concreate repair. During the Second World War, the United States Government took a great interest in the element for research and weapons’ development. Recently it was discovered a massive vein of calcite is under the Cattaraugus Indian Reservation in Western New York, unknown to the residents living there.

Separately, these details were minor bits of trivia for most, but eventually outside forces would forge a new path for a young man seeking his past, all leading to his destiny.

Chapter One

DAY I

Alex Harlow was staggered, and words escaped him. The man didn’t know how to respond or what to think, to the news he’d been waiting to hear. Finally, after a moment or two of stunned silence Alex was able to squeak out, “Miss Guthrie, could you say that again?” as he clutched his cordless phone, in a choking grip.

“Certainly Mr. Harlow,” a pleasant, almost sympathetic voice replied. “The state will be releasing copies of your files to my office, and we should be receiving your adoption records sometime next week. This means we will be one step closer to reuniting you with your family.”

Alex didn’t know that his caseworker, Marie Guthrie, was forced to pull the handset away from her left ear due to his overzealous “ALL RIGHT!”

“Oh my God! That’s the best news I’ve gotten since…I don’t know,” he told her with eyes wide open and his heart pounding. Alex began pacing around his living room, practically jumping.  “You’ve no idea what this means,” he added, then nervously asked, “So, any idea when I’ll actually see the records?”

At first, he heard papers being shuffling around, then his caseworker said, “Let me check here.” Alex presumed Marie was checking her hanging Lil’ Woofers Puppy calendar, he’d seen when he came into the Homeward Angels office for his in-person meetings. She drummed her knuckles on her desk loud enough for Alex to hear. “Barring a clerical glitch, I’d say within a week, give or take, knock on wood. Once I receive a confirmed date, I’ll call you so we can set aside some time.”

His stomach felt like it was corkscrewing around like a roller coaster. “You don’t understand what this means to me,” he said, then he clenched up his right fist hard enough that all his knuckles crack on their own and sounded like shelled nuts being split open. It was a habit Alex acquired to fight off nervousness or to keep anger under control when needed.

“I wanna thank you for all the help you gave me this past year.” He stopped to let out a soft brief laugh. “Hell, I’d still be trying to figure out the paperwork for the appeals process with the state.” Then, uncharacteristically, Alex leapt without looking. “I’d like to find a way to thank you.”

“That isn’t necessary Mr. Harlow, I’ve only been doing my job.”

Alex imagined Marie had similar discussions from past clients who wanted to show their appreciation, but claim it was against Homeward Angels policy to accept gratuities, as a way to defuse uncomfortable situations, especially if it was more of a case of male hormones overriding common sense. Being fifty years old, Alex had dealt with similar situations, but now he knew how to handle moments like these. Yes, his caseworker was attractive, and he wanted to show her his gratitude, but that’s where it ended. By this point in his life, Alex didn’t cross certain lines.

“I get it,” he quickly chimed in. “But I don’t think you realize what this means, let me try to explain.” Alex needed a moment to arrange his thoughts and once he knew what he wanted to say, he continued. “Maybe someone else could say it more articulately, but when you’re adopted, you’re on one side of the fence or the other; either you don’t care about your biological family or have a need to know. For me I’ve always been the latter. I’ve felt this need since I was a kid and thanks to you, I’m a step closer to finding out the truth.”

Alex realized Marie had become silent and wasn’t sure what it meant. It didn’t feel ‘uncomfortable’ to him, but he didn’t know what she was thinking. Marie then asked, “What do you mean?”

“I’ll try to clarify it for you. I always felt incomplete, like

a jigsaw puzzle with the outer edges and most of the inside finished, but several vital central pieces missing. Without them you’ll never get the whole picture. Because of your help, my picture’s gonna be a little more filled in. Whether good or bad, I’ll know more than I do now, and trust me even if my biological family doesn’t want me around, knowing’s better than not knowing.”

After a moment of silence, Alex heard the understanding in Marie's voice, and more empathy than she’d ever shown before. He could tell by the warmth in her tone. "Mr. Harlow I understand," she said softly. “Across the street from my office is the West Seneca library building, inside’s a Spot Coffee, I admit I’m very fond of Chai tea.”

“I know it—been there several times since my mom’s a librarian there. Name the time and the tea and brownies are on me. And it’s Alex.”

“All right, Alex, I’ll let you know but only if you call me Marie, agreed?”

“Sound doable, Marie.”

* * *

After hanging up, Alex sat down on the beige love seat in his living room, nearly collapsing since he was still in shock, and he wasn’t sure what surprised him more; the news or reaching out to Marie the way he did.

Beyond grateful, Alex’s luck seemed to finally be changing for the better. Over the past few years, he faced several setbacks and regrets that still plagued him, and Alex frequently wondered when he became a punching bag for the universe.

To the world at large he seemed fine, truth was he kept things hidden and wore a mask. His anger and depression he hid from almost everyone, because there were days when he was overwhelmed by the emotions. They towered above him, making some days unbearable emotionally speaking. But somewhere deep inside there was a trace of hope, telling him to keep fighting to the last round, to keep swinging, even when the final bell is rung. For whatever reason Alex kept listening and didn’t submit when the abyss he stared into stared back at him. Somehow, he defiantly stood his ground and spit in its eye.

Alex tried to process everything, from the very beginning. When Alex was less than a year old, he had been adopted by Reggie and Celeste Harlow, and when old enough to understand what that meant, they explained everything to him. From an early age Alex knew his biological mother couldn’t raise him but loved him enough to make certain he’d go to a good family. That also meant Alex had unanswered questions, the key one being why? Like he told Marie he was an incomplete jigsaw puzzle.

Alex’s thoughts switched from a mishmash of eagerness & expectations to concern, when he realized he’d no idea how to break the news to his parents. They always supported his natural curiosity regarding his biological family, when he reached out to the state, and finally going to Homeward Angels, whose mission was to reunite families that were separated for various reasons. No matter what he said, or how Alex told them, he knew the Harlows would be shaken up, particularly Celeste. He just had to figure out a way to tell them, without it being a verbal slap to the face.

While he sat there, in a perplexed state for a few minutes, Alex finally realized his stomach had been snarling like a wild animal, sounding like a growling wolverine or badger, which wasn’t surprising since he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and knew he’d better figure out what to make for dinner. With his parents out at their monthly cousins’ luncheon, the man knew he’d be cooking for one.

Alex stood up, rubbed the back of his neck, attempting to massage out the tension he felt, which is when his peripheral vision caught sight of something he’d recently seen several times, and he momentarily forgot about everything else. Through the sheer, semitransparent curtains hanging in front of his living room window, Alex saw a dark blue SUV, the same one he’d sporadically seen for the past two weeks.

Alex first noticed the SUV about two and a half weeks ago, parked at various points on his block. At first, he didn’t think anything about it, figuring one of the neighbors got a new truck, or someone had company, but things didn’t add up; the frequency of days, with some weekdays, some weekends, and the SUV was never in any of the driveways, always parked on the winding block, within proximity to the Harlow home.

Alex’s instincts kicked in. His mother always said Alex had a sixth sense stronger than anyone she knew, let alone heard of, and this was one of those times the man listened to his instincts more than his common sense. Something about the SUV bothered Alex and he followed his gut.

In a previous life the one-level, ranch style house, had been a local doctor’s office, while she lived in the original half of the house, the nine-room wing add on, became her office/exam rooms. When his parents bought the property, it was being sold as a three-bedroom, with an in-law suite. After Alex moved back in to help them with the property and chores, he had the doctor’s offices as his own half of the house.

Alex exited from his own private entrance, alongside the Harlow’s two-car garage, that was attached to his wing of the house. He walked down the four-car driveway, past his, steel-blue, gun metal, Charger right towards the sidewalk at a casual pace. As he headed through the glaring, white sunlight, into the cool, darkening shadow from his neighbors’ towering pine tree, that cut across the street, Alex’s glare tightened up, and became laser focused.

Once he stepped onto the blacktop, the SUV’s engine roared to life without warning, then pulled away from the curb at what seemed a dangerous rate of speed for the quiet neighborhood.

As a cool, fall breeze began gusting, Alex watched the truck head towards Lackawanna, right on the border of Alex’s neighborhood, and thought Glad no kids playing out here, because there’d be no way the driver could have stopped if anyone was in the street.

His mind went somewhere between curiosity and concern. Nothing screamed “DANGER” to him, but no one entered the SUV, which suggests the driver had been sitting there for some time, and Alex’s mind started to come up with possibilities. Could’ve been on their cell or checking their email. Maybe they were trying to decide what radio station to pick. There could have been a fussy kid in the backseat a parent had to deal with, or just be a coincidence, yeah, a coincidence. As Alex ran down the options, and knew it was all bunk: everyone who knew him knew how he felt about coincidences.

* * *

Back inside Alex did the only thing he could think of, start dinner. Cooking would help him calm down. For Alex, cooking was a form of therapy, because no matter what else was going on, when he baked, roasted, or broiled something, everything changed for him, he slowed down his thinking, his breathing, the way he did almost everything, bordering on a meditative state.

Alex decided on Asian chicken with Chinese veggies for dinner and soon had some sesame oil heating up in his copper skillet. As the aroma of chicken, seasonings, soy sauce, and veggies filled the kitchen, the clock radio, which sat on the top of the stainless-steel refrigerator, played the classic hit, You’re the Inspiration by Chicago, when Alex heard the familiar, earsplitting alert, usually reserved for Emergency Broadcast Tests. He stopped, cold, at the announcement.

Buy

PRINT
Amazon Print

Genres