Broken Tide | Book 3 | Maelstrom

by Richardson, Marcus

  MAELSTROM

  Broken Tide Series

  Book 3

  By

  Marcus Richardson

  Mike Kraus

  © 2020 Muonic Press Inc

  www.muonic.com

  ***

  www.freeholderpress.com/

  www.facebook.com/pages/Marcus-Richardson-Author

  ***

  www.MikeKrausBooks.com

  hello@mikeKrausBooks.com

  www.facebook.com/MikeKrausBooks

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, without the permission in writing from the author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Want More Awesome Books?

  Want More Awesome Books?

  Find more fantastic tales right here, at books.to/readmorepa.

  ***

  If you’re new to reading Mike Kraus, consider visiting his website and signing up for his free newsletter. You’ll receive several free books and a sample of his audiobooks, too, just for signing up, you can unsubscribe at any time and you will receive absolutely no spam.

  ***

  You can also stay updated on Marcus Richardson’s books by checking out his Facebook page or heading over to his website.

  ***

  Special Thanks

  Special thanks to my awesome beta team, without whom this book wouldn’t be nearly as great.

  Thank you!

  BROKEN TIDE Book 4

  Available Here

  Chapter 1

  Sailing Vessel Tiberia

  Southeast of Cape Cod, Massachusetts

  Reese Lavelle stood at the helm of the thirty-six-foot sailboat Tiberia and smiled. His feet were planted wide on the deck as it gently rolled on the calm waters off Cape Cod. They'd been underway for two days, and in the distance, he could just see Nantucket. The sun warmed his face, the breeze cooled the sweat on his skin, and the gentle motion of the boat calmed his frayed nerves.

  He’d been away from home almost two weeks. The trip, a corporate sponsored deep-sea fishing excursion, had only been planned for four days. Reese frowned as he manned the helm. The mega-tsunami had flipped Reese’s life upside down the moment it crashed ashore. His best friend and closest colleague at work, Ben Helmer, had died after they'd made it safely to the mainland.

  It turned out surviving the tsunami had been the easy part.

  Once they’d made it to shore and got to high ground, events on the mainland went downhill—fast. Reese’s frown deepened as he gripped the silver ship’s wheel and corrected Tiberia’s course ever so slightly. He kept a weather eye on the mainsail as the breeze had proved fickle that morning—he was wasn't positive the afternoon winds would behave any better.

  Despite the hardships he and Jo had suffered over the past two weeks, they were still alive. His smile broadened. Nothing lifted Reese Lavelle’s spirits like sailing. He peered up at Tiberia’s mast as it towered over the deck. True, it wasn't exactly like being the master and commander of one’s own vessel, but he was still sailing.

  Nothing about the trip had been normal since the tsunami hit. Tiberia’s owner lay below deck in the V-berth at the bow, semi-conscious after the wound he’d received on the dock in Boston. Byron Jennings had been briefly lucid as they’d escaped the doomed city and had made known his objection to Reese taking over as skipper.

  Reese glanced at Tony Andrews, Byron's nephew. Though the young man wasn't as green as he been the last couple days, he clearly was not a sailor. Reese turned his head as the mainsail snapped in a brief gust of wind. Libby, Byron's wife, sat against the starboard rail and chatted with Jo as the two sorted through the remains of Jo's battered first-aid kit.

  A brief glance at the steering compass confirmed they were still headed due south, which was a good thing—he'd purposely sailed them just far enough offshore to avoid Cape Cod. The last thing he wanted was to run into a fickle wind along an unfamiliar shore. Reese would never get on Byron’s good side if he drove Tiberia into the rocks.

  Reese turned and glanced aft so that his gaze followed the taut rope tied to Tiberia’s stern. Intrepid, the other sailboat in their little flotilla, trailed behind like a duckling, pulled by Tiberia. Reese had never successfully towed another boat with a sailboat, and he didn't like the extra stress it put on Tiberia’s hull and mast, but if what Byron and Libby had said were true, that Intrepid was fully stocked with food and provisions, Reese couldn't fathom the idea of leaving her behind.

  He watched the waves slap against Intrepid’s sleek hull. She was a bit bigger than Tiberia—maybe a 40 footer—and there was no doubt that if they cast her free and someone sailed her alongside Tiberia, it would allow them all to make better time, but Libby was sure Byron would be a hundred percent against it. He didn’t trust the two survivors they’d picked up in Boston, plain and simple.

  Reese sighed and turned forward once more, both his hands on the wheel. He couldn't blame Byron, though—if he were in the older man's shoes, he’d hesitate before giving the treasure ship over to a stranger, too. And he certainly wouldn't let someone he didn't know sail his own ship.

  Reese grinned to himself again. Byron assumed Tony was at the helm, but it was all the poor young man could do to keep his breakfast down, let alone steer the boat.

  "You sure seem full of yourself today," Jo commented from the starboard bench with a hint of a smile in her voice. "What are you smiling about?”

  Reese shrugged. "I can't help it—we’re on the open water, we've got a good breeze, there's no one shooting at us, and the weather is on our side."

  Jo nodded. "Life’s good, huh?”

  The smile faded from Reese’s face as he thought of Cami and Amber. The last text message he'd received from his family had been days ago—when they'd been on the outskirts of Boston. Cami had been overjoyed to learn that he'd survived the tsunami and made his way inland and reassured him that all was well at the house. But the turn of phrase she used, that Marty had given her pointers on ”hardening the house,” had raised Reese's anxiety level to the stratosphere.

  Marty Price was a crotchety old man, a military veteran—though of what branch—no one knew—and if he’d been forced to come out of his hermit-like existence and give Cami tips on how to defend her home, then the destruction and chaos that he'd witnessed every step of the way from Mount Desert Island south had also managed to land at his doorstep.

  Reese clenched his jaw and turned into the wind. The idea that Cami and Amber had faced what he'd seen so far by themselves made him at turns weak in the knees and furious beyond recognition.

  "Don't you agree?" asked Libby.

  Reese blinked. "Sorry?"

  "I said, when Byron wakes up, I think it would be a good time to suggest that we let you sail Intrepid—don't you agree?" Reese stared at the endless blue swells that rolled into the distance before them. Eight hundred miles south along the coast, his wife and daughter waited for him. "Well,
" he said thoughtfully, "I won't argue that splitting the boats up and sailing them side by side would get us south a lot faster. But I don't want you to think I'm trying to take over your boat or anything," Reese added quickly.

  Libby scoffed and adjusted the wide floppy straw hat she’d pulled up out of storage below deck. The bill flapped up against her forehead. "I don't think that at all. I want to get south as fast as possible. You helped rescue us when those wretched people tried to trap us back in Boston."

  "Yeah, but would those people have been there to attack you if they hadn’t been looking for me and Jo?” Reese asked.

  Jo frowned into the morning sun. “You sure know how to look a gift horse in the mouth, don't you?"

  "I just don't want to come off as—“ Reese began.

  "Don't worry about it, dear," Libby said as she waved off his concerns. "I understand completely—you're not trying to take over, this isn't your boat, and no man is satisfied sailing another man's ship. Boat," she corrected herself with a nod and a smile toward Reese. "Byron would feel—has felt—the same way before. Deep down, he understands you're not trying to steal his girl. The boat will always be his. But if we don't get south, and soon…”

  "You worried about mom, aren't you?" Tony asked. He swallowed and looked ready to throw up again.

  Libby shared a gentle, if sad smile for her nephew who sat on the opposite side of the boat. "I wouldn't be a very good big sister if I wasn’t, now would I?” She sighed and adjusted her hat. “I've always worried about your mother, dear. Took care of her since the time we both could walk.” She shrugged. “It's just who we are. But if what we've seen since New Hampshire is any indication of what the rest of the country looks like…” Libby looked from Tony to Reese. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply—“

  Reese shook his head. "Don't worry about it. It's not like I haven’t been thinking it since the tsunami hit. Cami—my wife—is a resourceful woman, and one of the strongest people I've ever met. She won't crack, I just worry about the people around her."

  Jo snorted. "Sounds like my kinda gal.”

  “Oh, you two will get along great,” Reese said with a grin.

  "Well I, for one, can't wait to get back on solid ground," Tony said as he clutched at his stomach and moaned. "I hate feeling like I want to throw up 24 hours a day…”

  "You get used to it," Reese and Libby said at the same time. Jo laughed.

  He turned aft again and stared wistfully at Intrepid. "She does look fast," he muttered more to himself than anyone else.

  "Oh, she is—as far as I know," Libby said. "I've only been aboard her when…Saul and Mary…” she said, as her voice trailed off. "When we were at harbor. But Byron always said she was a real rocket on the water. Saul had aspirations of racing her, you know.”

  "Yeah, count me out,” Tony said with a wave of his hand. “I saw that once on TV, those boats are tipped over sideways. I don't know how the crew holds on…”

  "The point is, we need to get south as fast as possible,” Libby persisted. “Not only for your family but also for mine," Libby said with finality. "My sister and her husband are pretty far back in the hills away from the Chesapeake," Libby explained to Jo when she raised an eyebrow.

  "Yeah but, that should be a good thing, Aunt Libby," Tony argued. "They're out there by themselves on the farm." He groaned. “What I wouldn’t give to be on the farm right now…”

  Libby nodded and adjusted her hat is it flapped in the breeze. "That's also the problem—they’re out in the middle of nowhere, sitting on good land. They have some animals and some crops—it's been that way in our family for the past 200 years.”

  Jo frowned. “I guess I don't see the problem?"

  "Well,” Libby said as she turned on the bench to face Jo and held onto her hat. “If people are turning into savages like we've seen in Boston, what's to say they won't go out into the country when the cities are all burned to the ground?" asked Libby. "Look at Boston—you can't tell me there's enough food for the people that are still trapped in the city to stay there much longer. People are going to have to go out into the countryside to find food or they'll starve to death. Without electricity, without trucks and trains and planes all delivering food on a daily basis, anyone still alive will be forced to head north, west, and south to find food and safe water. It's only a matter of time before people start getting sick…”

  Reese hadn't even considered such lovely post-apocalyptic door prizes like typhoid fever, dysentery, and cholera. Boston—what was left of it—would be a cesspool before long. He glanced up at the sun as it reigned supreme in a clear, blue sky. Out on the water, with the breeze and the salt spray, a person could forget how warm it truly was. Back on land, without a stiff breeze, the humidity would quickly increase to an unbearable level, especially with…bodies and rotting garbage strewn everywhere thanks to the tsunami.

  He suppressed an internal shudder. "You're right, I think," Reese said. "Wild horses couldn't keep me in a city as it fell apart—the only reason I even considered going further into Boston was to rescue Jo."

  "And I’m much obliged, I tell you what,” Jo replied quickly.

  “Especially with gangs taking over and all the violence…” Reese shook his head. "You're definitely right, Libby. Survivors will flood out of the cities and head to the countryside."

  Libby nodded. "Now you see my point. People will be starving and looking for food—they'll naturally go to farms, where it's peaceful, quiet, and loaded with meals on the hoof." She squinted up at the sky thoughtfully. "We’re getting onto the end of summer now, and the harvest will soon be ready to be brought in. That can be even more tempting for starving, desperate people. If they make it out into the countryside and find crops ripe and ready for the taking…it’ll be a recipe for disaster. There's just my sister and her husband and young Tony's older brother and his family on the farm."

  Tony laughed. "Greg's as mean as they come. I wouldn't want to be messing with him or his family at a time like this. I bet he's got that place turned into a fortress by now."

  Libby nodded. "I hope so." She looked back at Reese. "But that's why I want to get to Baltimore as fast as possible. Poor Byron just doesn't get it. He's an only child and doesn't have any relatives that he knows of. To him, life revolves around the ocean and me," she said with a small private smile. "But I have to think of my family. I can't not go to them at a time like this." She looked hard at Reese. “I think you, more than anyone else on this boat, can understand that.”

  "Understand what?" asked Byron in an unused voice that was thick with sleep. He cleared his throat and squinted up at them from the mid deck hatch. One eye was almost swollen shut, but the other locked on Reese in an unabashed glare. "What's all this?" he demanded. "What’re you still doing on my boat?" he growled as he staggered up the steps.

  "Uncle Byron!" Tony yelped. He jumped to his feet and rushed across the deck to help his elderly uncle make it up from the cabin below. The old sailor angrily shrugged out of his nephew's grasp and glared at him for a moment before he steadied himself against the mainmast. “Answer my question," he said simply at Reese.

  "Byron Leonard Jennings," Libby said formally as she got to her feet and ripped her hat off in a fit of matronly outrage. "Of all the ungrateful—you haven't acted this way since the night of my sister’s wedding!”

  Byron turned his one-eyed glare upon his wife. "Don't talk to me like a child," he snapped.

  “Then stop acting like one!" Libby snapped just as harshly. "You apologize right this instant. Reese and Jo have done everything they could to rescue us and keep you safe and get us out of harm’s way."

  Byron appeared mollified, but still made his way toward the wheel. Reese waited until the older man was close enough to take the wheel, then lifted his hand from it and stepped back in surrender. "I never intended any harm—I certainly didn't want you to get hurt."

  "But you didn't have any problems taking over my boat, did you?" Byron blurted. He ignored Rees
e's apology and continued to settle himself behind the wheel. He checked the mainmast, the sail, the rigging, and glanced over his shoulder. He gazed on Intrepid behind them, still following along its taught towline. He grunted and settled himself in a sailor’s wide-legged stance on the slightly tilted deck.

  "Well?" Libby demanded, her hands on her hips

  Reese was about to say something, then caught Jo’s look and kept his mouth shut. She gave the barest shake of her head to indicate he should remain silent and then looked at Libby and grinned.

  The old man cleared his throat. “Well…you appear to know what you're doing, I’ll give you that much," Byron said grudgingly. "I would've trimmed the main a bit more, but…” He glanced over his shoulder at Intrepid again. "She's a little too low in the water for my likes, but all in all…not bad. I guess.”

  “Thanks…” Reese said warily. "I think?"

  "Byron!” Libby hissed.

  Byron's ferocious attitude evaporated, and he scrunched his shoulders as if flinching from an impending blow. "Fine. Sorry," he said sullenly.

  "Stop acting like a 70-year-old teenager," Libby said, exasperated. "I am so sorry, Reese—Jo," she said to both of them. "I can only assume the blow my husband suffered to his head is the cause of this unseemly rudeness."

  "Well, what was I supposed to think?" Byron argued.

  Reese sucked air in through his teeth. He’d been down that road with Cami before. Byron was only digging a hole deeper and deeper by not giving in. Again, he opened his mouth to say something, and again Jo prevented him with a stern gaze.

  "I get knocked on the head and dragged down into the main cabin, then wake up and we’re God-knows-where out in the middle of the ocean, and a stranger with one arm is manning the helm—“

  “Uh, for the record, I do have two arms," Reese pointed out. He raised he raised his right arm slightly, still bound by the sling. "I can actually move it now, too,” he added with a smile.