“I’ll make sure she gets it,” Ryan said.
“No!” Milt shouted into the phone. “You need to get to that location quick!”
“Why, what’s so urgent?”
When Milt told him, Ryan dropped the phone and dashed out of the room.
37
Ryan thought Celeste was out of her mind trying to tackle Mt. Hamilton Road in the middle of the night. It was harrowing enough driving the treacherous road during the day, not knowing if any moment he would cut a corner too close and send them soaring over the edge.
But that wasn’t the case as he soon discovered traversing down the perilous mountain. As there were no other lights illuminating the road, the terrain beyond the reach of the Mustang’s headlights was lost in the darkness, eliminating that panicky sense of vertigo he had experienced before so there was less distraction, like a horse wearing blinders.
For over three hours they drove: navigating the mountain roads and eventually through the passable city streets of San Jose to Interstate 280 and north to Highway 92 where they crossed over another mountain range into Half Moon Bay, only to find that the coastal town had been ravaged by the tsunami tidal waters.
Ryan gunned the Mustang up Highway 1 on the muddy tarmac, dodging stalled vehicles and trees ripped from their roots, partially blocking the two-lane road. He checked the clock on the dash. They had another two hours or so before daybreak.
Celeste had the dome light on so she could consult the map on her lap she had marked up before they left. “Up ahead should be Princeton Harbor.”
“You honestly think there’ll even be a boat we can use?”
“Let’s hope so.”
Ryan turned left off the highway and followed a road that curved down to a structure that had been demolished at the entrance to a long pier. Even in the dark and fog, Ryan could see sailboats and fishing trawlers that had been stripped from their dock moorings, smashed upon the boulders of Pillar Point, the outer breakwater jetty meant to protect the harbor but unable to hold back the devastating high wave of the tidal surge.
“Now what?” Ryan stopped the car. He kept the headlights on and climbed out. The mist was cool on his face and he zipped up his parka.
Celeste got out on her side. She walked around to the front of the car and stared out over the pier. “Ryan, I see a boat with some people onboard.”
Ryan saw a small crew moving about on a fishing trawler. “Come on!” he shouted and they ran down the wharf.
When they were almost to the boat they heard a man on the bow yell out, “I wouldn’t come any closer!” Ryan could see that he was holding a rifle. In his excitement, he hadn’t thought to grab a weapon from the backseat though he had his sidearm strapped on his belt. He knew if he reached for it, the man could easily gun him down.
Rather than use force, Celeste chose a more diplomatic approach and explained why they had traveled to the harbor and how they desperately needed the fisherman’s help. As soon as he heard the reason for her request, he immediately invited them to come aboard.
“Welcome aboard the Maggie Bell. I’m Kevin Price.” After Ryan and Celeste properly introduced themselves, Kevin explained that he was the captain of the fishing trawler and that his wife, Maggie, and their son, Donny, had been crabbing twenty miles offshore when the tsunami hit so they were able to ride it out on the open waves.
“You were lucky,” Ryan said, standing in the pilothouse with Celeste and Maggie. Donny was outside looking over the bow, ready to signal his father if he saw anything in the water that might damage the trawler’s hull.
“Wish I could say the same for the others.” Kevin turned the helm when Donny pointed off the portside. Ryan looked out the porthole and saw what looked like a capsized sailboat floating by.
“So, have you been living on your boat?” Celeste asked Maggie.
The woman looked to her husband. “What’s it been, now? Six months?”
“Closer to seven,” Kevin replied. “We have a portable desalination unit so fresh water hasn’t been a problem though we have to go sparingly. You’ve heard that expression ‘there’s plenty of fish in the sea’ so we’ve been able to sustain ourselves with our catches. Rock cod and lingcod mostly, and anything we pull up in our crab pots.”
Ryan looked out the front window of the pilothouse and saw Donny duck as a wave washed up over the bow.
“It’s going to get a little choppy,” Kevin said as the boat lifted up a few feet and slammed down. The vessel continued to rise and dip in the swells like a short-circuited elevator car unable to make up its mind.
The ocean ahead was an undulating dark blue dappled with thousands of white caps. The unsettling motion was making Ryan seasick.
Maggie must have seen it in his face and handed him a cup of water and a couple of pills. “Here, swallow these.”
Ryan gave her a weak smile and washed the pills down. The water helped with the nausea. He hoped the medication kicked in quick as he didn’t’ relish the idea of being on deck, puking his guts out over the side, especially in rough waters.
The journey out to sea took them two hours before they arrived at the Farallon Islands, which were 32 miles directly off the coast from the Golden Gate Bridge.
“Sailors used to call them the “Devil’s Teeth Islands” because the waters around them are so treacherous,” Kevin said, sounding like a charter boat tour guide.
Ryan had to admit the islands looked uninviting with their sheer cliffs and steep rocky shorelines. The slopes were crowded with seabird colonies, the granite stained white with guano. Large groups of seals and sea lions were gathered together, resting on the boulders at the water’s edge. Even inside the pilothouse, Ryan could hear the pounding waves.
Donny waved and motioned for everyone to come out and join him on the bow.
Reluctantly, Ryan followed Maggie and Celeste out onto the deck. They grabbed the railing and looked over the side.
Ryan saw an immense fish glide alongside the trawler’s hull.
“That’s a great white. Twenty-footer,” Donny shouted.
Celeste had taken a pair of binoculars from the pilothouse and was staring up into the morning sky that was turning a golden salmon as the easterly sun began to crown. She looked down at her watch then gazed back at the sky. After a moment, she shouted, “I think I see it!”
Maggie and Donny looked up.
It took a few seconds before Ryan saw the single parachute.
Kevin stared up through the front window of the pilothouse and changed course.
Everyone watched as the escape capsule drifted down and splashed into the sea.
Donny slipped on a pair of thick gloves and climbed over the side onto a narrow platform as the trawler maneuvered to the floating spacecraft.
Ryan could see Russian lettering on the exterior.
The young man slid down and climbed onto the bobbing escape module. He gazed through the porthole. “I see someone. She’s alive!”
“Thank God,” Celeste said.
Donny opened the hatch.
Cass Freeman poked her head out. Her face was haggard and her hair was greasy and she looked like she was in serious need of a bath, but she still managed to give everyone a great big smile.
“Welcome home,” Celeste shouted down.
Donny helped Cass out of the hatch. Maggie had gone to relieve Kevin at the helm so he could assist Ryan as they pulled the astronaut on board. Cass’s legs were too weak from spending so much time in zero gravity that she couldn’t stand on her own. The boat pitched as the men tried to keep their balance and carry Cass into the pilothouse and below deck to the berthing compartment.
Once they’d put Cass on a bunk and covered her with a blanket, Celeste had to ask the burning question. “How in the world did you do it? We saw you from our observatory, pushing Mother Lode off into space.”
“That wasn’t me you saw. It was Rob. I programmed the robonaut to pilot the Zveza as its thrusters had the most fuel. When I saw that i
t was working, I made a quick call to you guys.”
“That’s when you gave Milt your landing coordinates.”
“Yeah, I figured it was the closest spot. Luckily, I was able to squirm my way into the Soyuz descent module.”
“I have to say, you’re one amazing woman,” Ryan said.
“You don’t think I could trouble anyone for a cup of hot tea?”
“Coming right up,” Maggie said and headed off to the galley.
Ryan and Celeste sat side by side on the opposite bunk.
“So,” Cass said. “What’s been going on down here?”
“Plenty,” Ryan said, and before he knew it, he and Celeste were swapping horror stories with Cass like three long-lost friends.
38
Twenty years later...
Frank stood at the front window and peeked out through the curtain. “She’s just pulling into the driveway.” He kept watching as Wanda got out of her Jeep and headed for the porch steps. “Everybody hide!”
He dashed over and joined Dillon and Amy who were crouched behind the sofa with their five-year-old son, Daniel.
“Are we going to scare her?” Daniel asked Frank.
“It’s a surprise,” Frank whispered and put his finger up to his lips.
“Should I go Boo?”
“No, Daniel,” Dillon said. “It’s not Halloween.”
“Shush you two,” Amy said. “Or you’ll ruin it.”
Frank could hear Wanda’s boots coming up the steps. He glanced over and saw Ally and Ryan waiting in the kitchen for the right moment.
The front door opened.
“Surprise!” everyone shouted, appearing from their hiding places just as Wanda stepped into the living room.
“Oh my God,” Wanda said with a genuine look of shock on her face. A banner hung on a wall wishing her both a HAPPY BIRTHDAY and HAPPY RETIREMENT.
“Thought it might be nice to celebrate them together.” Frank walked up and gave his wife a kiss.
“You guys, you shouldn’t have. Kill two birds with one stone, huh?”
Abbie, the family’s golden retriever, rushed over to greet Wanda and received a welcoming pat on the head.
“Wait till you see the cake Gamma,” Daniel said.
Wanda smiled at Dillon and Amy and picked Daniel up. “I can hardly wait,” she told the boy.
“We couldn’t fit all the candles on the cake ‘cause you’re so old.”
“Daniel! Behave,” Amy said, clearly embarrassed.
Wanda looked at her son. “Gee, Dillon. Does he remind you of someone?”
“Mom, I was never like that.” Dillon put out his arms to take his son. “Come here, you little brat before you break Gamma’s back.”
Frank saw Wanda shaking her head and knew exactly what she was thinking.
Like father like son.
“What’s this?” Wanda asked, reaching out to fondle Dillon’s goatee.
“Amy thinks it looks cool,” Dillon said with a proud smile.
“No, I don’t,” Amy piped in. “Stupid thing’s scratchy.”
Wanda turned as Ally and Ryan came over and gave their mom a big hug.
“This is such a wonderful surprise,” Wanda said, unable to contain the tears. “How did you get here? I didn’t see any cars.”
“We parked behind the barn,” Ryan said.
“Are you still driving a Trans Am?”
“Sure am.”
“How have you been?’ Wanda asked Ally. “Keeping busy?”
“Our hospital is sponsoring another animal rescue, so yes, we’ve been quite busy.”
“How about I make everyone some drinks,” Ryan volunteered and headed for the kitchen.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’m going to change out of my uniform for the last time,” Wanda said, and headed up the stairs.
Frank saw Amy staring at the small screen on her cell phone. She turned the device off, stuffed it in her jean pocket, and walked over to Frank.
“That was my dad sending me a text. He wanted me to tell you that he was sorry he and my mom couldn’t make it today. He’s still shook up about Jack’s death.”
“I heard. We were always kidding that Jack had nine lives like a cat. Tell your father it’s okay, we understand.”
Frank could hear the blender grinding in the kitchen, which meant that Ryan was making up a pitcher of margaritas.
“Can I go play outside on the swing?” Daniel asked his father.
“Only if you promise to stay out of trouble,” Dillon said with a stern voice.
Daniel gave his father a perplexed look, like he had no idea what he was talking about.
“Just go.”
Daniel ran into the kitchen.
“And don’t wander off!”
But it was doubtful if Daniel was even listening as he dashed through the open door into the mudroom and bolted outside, slamming the screen door.
“A chip off the old block, eh?” Frank said.
“I wasn’t that bad. Was I?” Dillon looked like he expected an answer but Frank just grinned.
Ryan came into the living room carrying a pitcher and placed it on the coffee table. Ally brought a tray of short-stemmed glasses with salt around the rims and put it next to the pitcher. Ryan was acting bartender and began pouring drinks.
Wanda came down the stairs, having changed into a blouse and a pair of jeans, and graciously took a glass. “Thank you, Ryan.”
Dillon walked over to the flat screen TV mounted over the fireplace mantel. A program was on but the sound had been muted for the surprise party. “Isn’t this that award-winning documentary that’s been chronicling the restoration?”
“Looks like it.”
A young filmmaker had come up with the idea and had produced over 30 separate two-hour long documentaries of how Earth was almost destroyed; segments about the asteroid belt and the deadly meteor showers, scientific studies of the tiny alien life forms and how they were able to transform insects into giant creatures; bleak footage of the military having to enforce Marshal Law; time progression of cities rebuilding their infrastructures, eventually sending up more communication satellites and restoring the Internet.
“Have you been downloading the series?” Frank asked.
“Yeah, I have most of them. I play the one with your interview all the time.”
“How flattering.”
“Daniel calls you The Bug Man.”
“That so?”
“Strange how things panned out. The bugs dying off like that.”
“Even the life forms couldn’t alter the fact that insects, like everything else, have a life expectancy,” Frank said. “Nothing lives forever.”
“Do you think they got all of them?”
“The bugs or the life forms?”
“Both.”
“Let’s hope so.”
Ally screamed from the kitchen.
“What the hell?” Frank placed his glass on the mantel and headed for the kitchen.
Wanda and Amy were also in the kitchen, standing by the counter where they had been preparing a platter of snack food.
“What’s going on?” Frank asked as Dillon and Ryan joined him, gathering in the doorway.
Abbie crowded between their legs to see what was going on.
“Will you please tell Daniel to take that somewhere else,” Ally pleaded.
The boy was holding a mason jar in his hands and was taunting Ally with it.
“Daniel, stop that!” Amy said.
Frank and Dillon stepped into the kitchen.
“What do you have there?” Frank asked.
Dillon knelt beside his son and looked through the glass. “Daniel’s got himself a tarantula.”
“I caught it outside.”
“Did you know the scientific name for tarantulas is Aphonepelma?” Dillon said.
“How’d you know that?” Daniel asked.
“Frank told me when I was about your age.”
“I can’t belie
ve you remembered,” Frank said.
“Can I keep it?” Daniel asked his father.
“I’ve a better idea,” Dillon said. “How about we take it outside and let it loose in the field across the road. That way it won’t scare anyone and it can be with its friends. I don’t think it’s much fun being cooped up in a jar, do you?”
“I guess not.”
“Come on. I know a special spot.” Dillon stood and smiled. He let Daniel go first and followed his son through the mudroom and out the screen door.
Frank went back into the living room and retrieved his drink from the mantel.
Amy came out with the platter of snacks. Ally passed out paper plates while Ryan topped off everyone’s glasses.
Frank put his arm around Wanda’s shoulder, raised his glass in a toast, and gazed at her lovingly. “Happy birthday, dear. Here’s to a new chapter in our lives.”
Ryan, Ally, and Amy raised their glasses. “Happy birthday, Mom!”
Abbie joined in with a loud bark.
THE END
Read on for a free sample of Cave Crawlers
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank Gary Lucas and the wonderful people working with Severed Press that helped with this book. Special thanks to Nichola Meaburn for her editing and keen eye. It’s truly amazing how folks we may never meet and who live in the most incredible places in the world can truly enrich our lives. And I would especially like to thank my daughter and faithful beta reader, Genene Griffiths Ortiz, for making this so much fun and sharing these bizarre and incredible journeys.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Gerry Griffiths lives in San Jose, California, with his family and their five rescue dogs and a cat. He is a Horror Writers Association member and has over thirty published short stories in various anthologies and magazines, as well as a short story collection entitled Creatures. He is also the author of Silurid, The Beasts of Stoneclad Mountain, and Down From Beast Mountain as well as Death Crawlers with the follow-up standalone novels, Deep in the Jungle, The Next World, and Battleground Earth, all published by Severed Press.
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