Gaia Dreams (Gaiaverse Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

gold cross removed from around her
mother's neck, Maria gazed unblinking out the windshield of the van. Her eyes
were dry now. Jaw clenched so tight pains shot up the side of her face. Maria
repeated the words to herself spoken to her dead parents less than an hour
before. "I'll make you proud of me. I'll do a good job."
    Turning abruptly to face Zack, she asked, "Where's
the cat?"
    "What? What cat?" Zack asked.
    "Cleo. She was Mama's cat. Where is she?"
    "Uh, Maria, she's probably dead somewhere in the
house," Zack said gently. "I'm sorry."
    "No, you don't understand. Cleo always, always,
slept on top of Mama's feet. She's a big tabby cat, and it was a running joke
how Mama had such cold feet even in the warm weather here and how Cleo took
care of her. That cat never slept anywhere at night but on Mama's feet. You and
I both saw the bed." Maria's eyes glazed over for a moment, the scene of her
parents' death forever fixed in memory. She shook herself. "Anyway, I didn't
see a cat anywhere in that bedroom, did you?"
    "No, no, I didn't," Zack said thoughtfully.
    Maria's brow furrowed in thought. "I just don't
get it. Cleo would never have left Mama's side. She was always around during
the other earthquakes they've had out here. When we get time, I want to go back
there and call for her around the neighborhood. Maybe she made it."
    "We still have some time now and we're not that
far away," Zack said. "If you want to go back--"
    "No. Hand me the phone. I have a job to do. I'm
calling New York. We're going live in half an hour from wherever the van is
then located. If Cleo's still alive, she'll fend for herself until I can come
back. She's very independent."
    Cleo's not the only one, Zack thought as he
handed her the phone, swerving through the maze of downed trees and utility
poles.
     

Chapter 2
    Cape Fair, Missouri
    White lace curtains fluttered in the cool
evening breeze as Mrs. Philpott sat down to dinner in the sunroom. She called
it the sunroom because it had eight windows that let in brilliant sunshine
every morning to nourish the jungle of plants lining the walls. The room was
mainly used as a dining room. Mrs. Philpott loved the feel of the old oak table
under her fingertips. Tonight the bare wood expanse was unadorned by tablecloth
and held Mrs. Philpott's china dinner plate, cloth napkin, and a silver fork.
The china had been her mother's and had tiny blue flowers etched on the rim
that were covered up now by a slab of lasagna, salad and garlic bread. Mrs.
Philpott made terrific lasagna. However, she wasn't concentrating on the taste
of her dinner.
    As she watched the gathering shadows outside the
windows, she thought about her dreams. Lately, her dreams seemed more vivid
than at any time in her life. They also seemed connected. Every night for the
past month, Mrs. Philpott felt she had been seeing a story unfold in her
dreams. Except for one night a week ago, when she had dreamed about an
earthquake in California. She hadn't thought much about the dream until two
days later when the morning news was interrupted with the story of the "big one"
hitting California. An earthquake of 9.8 magnitude at least, the geologists
were now saying, but essentially an earthquake of immeasurable force.
    Mrs. Philpott had always been a practical woman,
not given to flights of fancy. She read constantly; usually she had three books
going at once. As a scientist, she believed there were things that could not be
explained in this world, but generally felt that was only because we had not
learned enough to figure them out. She was brought up as a Methodist, but
decided around age forty that most religion was based on myth and legend. The
supernatural might be fun to read about in a Stephen King novel, but it never
entered into her daily reality.
    She put down her fork, straightened her
shoulders, and took a deep breath. "All right, Virginia," she said to herself, "go
ahead and say it out loud. You are having an inexplicable experience. It