The Bar Code Prophecy by Suzanne Weyn Page B

him an excellent candidate for the title.”
    “What about the heavenly bodies falling from the skies?” Eric asked.
    “We don’t know,” Eutonah admitted. “But we do know this: The Hopi believe that the land we were just now on is the center of the universe, and Global-1 is strip-mining it for minerals. Every day they use gallons and gallons of precious water to make a slurry of liquid chemicals and water because it’s the least expensive way to transport the minerals.”
    Grace realized Eutonah’s meaning. “The balance of the world is being upset.”
    “Of the universe ,” Eric amended.
    “The moon affects the tides; who’s to say that the mineral content of the Earth doesn’t affect things floating in space?” Eutonah said. “If the center of the universe is destroyed by the greed of Global-1, who knows what could happen?”
    Grace suddenly felt that she couldn’t catch her breath. This was all too much. “This is crazy,” she said, panic rising in her voice. “I don’t believe in prophecies. And even if it’s all true, what does it have to do with me?”
    “You’re the daughter the prophecy talks about,” Eutonah replied.
    “I’m not!” Grace refused to believe it. “I’m Grace Morrow and I have a family that is missing. I have no right to be fooling around with all of this right now. I need to be looking for them.”
    “Your best hope of finding them is with us,” Eric insisted as he laid his hand reassuringly on her arm.
    “I don’t believe you!” Grace cried, pulling away from his touch. “You’re all involved in this bar code tattoo resistance and that’s all you want me for.” She grabbed the keys Eutonah had placed on the virtual reality helmet case and opened the door. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. I have to find my family.”
    The moment Grace stepped out, she almost collided with a subway car zooming down the track. It plastered her to the side of the wall, throwing dirt and debris in her face.
    As soon as it had passed, she ran down the track and was able to pull herself up onto the platform at the end of the subway car and let herself inside. She slipped into a seat by the back car, panting heavily from the effort.
    Commuters slipped wary sidelong glances at Grace, and she realized how disreputable she must look, covered in dirt from the passing train and with her hair knotted and wind-swept from her parachute jump. Her stomach grumbled loudly, reminding her that all she’d eaten since the day before was a granola bar that she’d hastily bought on the way to the subway station.
    A dirty, disheveled man bearing a sign entered the train. It read: THE END IS NEAR . People moved away from him, seeming unconcerned with anything other than his pungent body odor.
    “Brothers and sisters,” the man addressed the crowd in a loud voice as the subway train left the station. “You must understand that we have reached the last days of this evil, corrupt world. Prepare to breathe your last.”
    Withdrawing a harmonica from his pocket, the dirty prophet began to play an old song that Grace recognized; in her head she sang the verses, which were about it being the end of the world as she knew it. When he was done, he leaned in close to each commuter, asking that they donate money in repayment for his song. The train was pulling into the next station when he reached Grace. She hoped to escape him but he blocked her path before she could fully rise from her seat. He leaned in so close that their cheeks touched. She recoiled from his awful odor.
    “I’m a Postman,” he whispered. “I know where your family is. Follow me out at this stop, but not too closely.”
    The subway doors opened, and before Grace could decide if she should trust him, he was moving toward the exit.
    In a second she would lose sight of him altogether.
    Grace began moving, uncertain if it was the right thing to do. But what choice did she have? If she didn’t act on this, she was at a dead end.