A young, remarkably musically talented, 14 year old girl dying of cancer, her father, a special government agent, a strange visitor from another planet simply calling himself the Music Man and the four powerful beings who accompany him converge on Earth to thwart a pending attack in our future.But can they do it in time?
Who can be trusted?
Will the young girl realize her destiny in time before she dies?
What will happen to Earth if she fails?
Why is all this related to only music?
What did a fifth airplane on 9/11 have to do with the young girl?
The Music Man has been sent here to Earth by four special beings. But why was he sent here and what does he know?
How can a 14-year-old girl save our planet?
What role does music play in this whole wild scenario?
What does the Music Man really know about planet Earth?
The Music Man and the powerful beings have deduced that planet Earth, on its current path of technology, has not even a faint chance of surviving the coming of the Mentones in the year 2683. The Mentones are an extremely advanced race of strange beings with an effective, yet sick way of harvesting planets to continue their species.
But the Music Man’s once simple mission becomes extremely complicated. The government blames the Music Man for misfortunes around the planet. The Mentones discover the Earth seed and set out to destroy it. Another powerful being, hidden eons ago, sides with the evil race of Mentones, as the Earth seed lies dying in a hospital. A genius inventor, a radical doctor and a NASA video surveillance specialist all become part of the now complex countdown.
So with the Music Man conducting a new evolution of music, a new technology using sound covering all aspects of the development and advancement of the human race, a chance to survive we may have. We just have to listen to the new music. We just have to listen to him. And we just have a little over 677 years to become prepared for the inevitable.
The only hitch is that in order to succeed, we must take the right path now.
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Excerpt:
Captain Blankenship lay unconscious as he was now passed out from loss of blood. The small red pool of blood broadened as the plane made its last turns. The hijackers said nothing. In fact, at this point no one said anything.
The F-18s were quickly narrowing the gap, racing closer to their target.
“Andrews Air Force Base, this is Nighthawk Flight 4, is suspect traffic approximately forty miles northwest of Dulles, southeast bound?”
Andrews Air Force Base answered, “Affirmative.”
“Nighthawk 4, descending to one thousand feet, heading 320 to intercept.”
The F-18’s screamed on with deafening roar.
“Andrews, this is Nighthawk 4—we have suspect traffic at ten o’clock and thirty-five miles. We are closing in quickly.”
“Roger, Nighthawk 4.”
***
Gail Damson and Bill Cramer helplessly looked at each other, and then they looked away. Bill was a mess at this point. He knew he was going to die.
My fear of flying, he sadly thought, and this is now my reward.
Gail tried to comfort him with words and a forced smile, but the hijackers threatened her once again. She closed up.
Several passengers began sobbing quietly, and the plane was flying way too low. The aircraft made its final banking right turn and was now well below seven hundred fifty feet, heading directly towards its planned target, Bethesda Naval Hospital. The plane, now bouncing about heavily, was flying barely above the shorter buildings and taller trees as it raced across the hopeless setting. It would hit the mark in less than sixty seconds. There was nothing anyone could do now but pray. Bill Cramer was praying, too. Even if they were going to crash, he wished that it would end soon. The strenuous emotions were much too overwhelming for him. He prayed for his family.
The hijackers insanely held tight the controls of the doomed plane, forcing it towards the hospital. Their eyes were fixated outward, yet looking at nothing. They prayed over and over, thanking their God for the events now in their sight. The weapon’s speed was nearly five hundred fifty miles per hour. The hospital was only two miles away at present, in clear view. There was now only twelve seconds until impact. But no one knew that, except for the hijackers, though co-pilot Stewart Farmer knew something. He could feel the plane descending for quite a while now. The altimeter alarms were going off. He also thought the end was near, as he could hear the hijackers repeat what appeared to be a prayer in their native language over and over. Passenger Bill Cramer had closed his eyes, and his mind had frozen long ago. He was far beyond being afraid. His brain was now basically shut down. He was ungraciously left with only a stuck picture of his family etched into his wasted, tormented mind. Flight attendant Gail Damson had also given up. She looked like a discarded, lifeless doll left on a barren floor. But no one expected what was to happen next. And it would happen very quickly.
The seconds ticked away.
The seed will be protected.
The huge black creature, stepping inside the streaking aircraft from its own created dimension, materialized out of nowhere toward the front of the plane by the cockpit. Its large head, perched on its massive frame, brushed against and partially through the short cabin ceiling of the condemned aircraft as it stood ready to confront its target. The bizarre black creature knew exactly what it had to do and had little time to do it. It had to find the cause of this particular problem instantly and handle that, something it knew very well how to do; circumstances the creature had absolutely no tolerance for. The timeless Being, armed with innumerable capabilities created eons ago, assessed the current situation. Particle-beam technology, dark-matter infusion, propagation of antimatter into targets, and advanced electromagnetic pulse weapons were even long ago ancient history for this particular Being.
But today that would be all it really required.
The large dark Being, sensing a strange aberration of unacceptable vibrations coming from only four humans, turned its large head quickly to one side and then the other and experienced the source: the two hijackers in the rear cabin of the plane and the two in the cockpit. An immediate decision was made to remedy the problem. Though no one would see it, the enormous creature instantly created and expelled from its essence a highly concentrated, pulsating low frequency beam. Delivered via a carrier wave a hundred times lower than the human ear can hear, it left the strange creature at the speed of sound. The quivering shock wave fiercely locked onto the two hijackers in the back of the plane like a lion’s jaw and incapacitated them. Instantly near death, they instinctively tried to move one last time but couldn’t. The concentrated beam continued to hold them, frozen in complete agony, making them drop their cheap weapons. The beam created by the creature produces the same effect on a human body as if thousands of volts produced by an electric chair had just grabbed the victim, arching their body upright and forward in excruciating pain, thus leaving the target wasted.
Two seconds had now passed.
The Being then turned toward the cockpit and hit the two other targeted hijackers flying the plane with another beam of concentrated frequency waves, also rendering them useless. The nearly demised hijackers now found themselves slumped frozen over the controls of the large aircraft with the terrible beam holding them fast—like a stun gun, but a hundred times worse. Their unmoving eyes gathered their last visions before they left.
The targets have now been incapacitated, the strange creature thought. Yet they have no apparent use anywhere, it fatefully decided for them.
Then, pausing for a brief moment, seeming to make another rational decision, the Being raised its large right hand, which ejected a blinding flash of controlled violet light hitting only the four hijackers simultaneously. These new beams of light, carrying trillions of years of extremely advanced antimatter particle-beam technology, dislodged and dissipated all spinning atomic and subatomic particles in the hijackers’ bodies. The four hijackers never saw what hit them. Suddenly and instantly vaporized, they no longer existed. No one would ever see them again.
Five seconds had now passed.
The plane was now flying at only a hundred feet and would hit its target in fewer than six seconds. The creature then moved back away from the cockpit. It paused and looked around the interior of the plane and its occupants for a second, as if sizing it up. Then it calmly lifted its large hand once again, creating a brilliant flash of green and blue light that now engulfed the entire plane. These final rays of light held a technological secret the best Earth scientists would spend many thousands of years trying to duplicate. The bright flash of light caused the doomed airplane to vanish for a split second. Caught, then released from the temporary quarters of the Being’s own dimension, the Boeing 757 jet, with all of its passengers intact, reappeared eighty-five miles away from where it was a second ago and was now sitting safely on a military runway.
“This is Nighthawk 4, lost radar on possible traffic. It must be down! But Andrews, we don’t see any signs of an aircraft going down!”
“Roger, Nighthawk 4,” Andrews replied. “We have lost radar on suspect traffic. We confirm it must have gone down! Wait! We have a hit on Trans 394! What the hell! We have a hit at Quantico! That’s impossible! What the hell is going on here? It couldn’t have…”
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