by Brent Reilly
“Lorena, Lorena,” Wili called to his sister ship. “The USS Bush is going to capsize in front of us. We are turning to starboard, but we will soon turn back to face the swell head on. Recommend you do the same.” He knew the captain of the Lorena was trying to make sense of his radar screen. With that heads-up and with more room to maneuver, the Lorena should be fine. He, however, had to avoid a fucking aircraft carrier like an overturned tracker-trailer on the freeway.
“Lorena, the Bush is turning into the swell, but is getting hit at a 45 degree angle. Ay, Dios mio, instead of turning more into the wave, the wave is pushing away its bow. Oh mierda, the wave is lifting the whole ship up. It’s now getting hit broadside. It’s tilting. The ship is now a hundred meters higher than we are.”
Which gave the 2D ocean a weird third dimension.
“Turn to port! Lorena, we’re heading into the swell.”
Then Wili saw movement out of the corner of his left eye. What crazy idiot would be out on deck at a time like this? Incredulous, Wili turned his head just enough to see that fucking baby raptor. He stared through his window, suddenly oblivious of the swell and the carrier, his total attention dangerously captured by the non-extinct dinosaur on his weather deck.
Wili never was much of a mind reader, but he could tell the raptor was scared shitless and thinking, “What the fuck is going on?” His body language screamed anxiety as he chicken-walked past the bridge to the bow. Wili assumed it was a he. He really had no idea and certainly wasn’t about to radio the vet to ask how to tell the difference between male and female raptors. Not with the fucking Navy listening in. It had balls, whatever sex it was.
“Five seconds to the swell, captain.”
Those were the longest five seconds of his life. Even longer than losing his virginity. It seemed to stretch out as the baby hurried forward, curiosity winning over terror. Wili had to admire its courage. Not even a day old and already brave enough to watch a tsunami capsize a fucking aircraft carrier. It may run like a chicken, but it was no coward.
It looked more like a turkey than a chicken. With arms. With a much bigger tail. The vet told him that some fully grown dinosaurs were no bigger than chickens, but he could tell it was a baby. The tentative way it moved, the way it looked at everything around it, the innocent vib the monster gave off.
The baby reached the bow and looked up at the giant swell. Tiny figures were flying across the deck of the carrier and some of them, as they were thrown towards in the air, obviously saw the raptor before plummeting to their deaths in the freezing water. Through his binoculars, Wili watched the reactions of several of them as they recognized the dinosaur having a Titanic moment.
“3. 2. 1.”
“Brace yourself,” Wili yelled into the ship intercom while strapping himself into his chair.
The nose of the ship dipped into the swell and for a moment Wili feared the rest of the ship would disappear as well. Tons of water washed over the deck before the nose turned up and their momentum carried them forward. The rush of water swatted the tiny raptor, sending it airborne a hundred feet until it smacked hard against the bridge’s Plexiglas window, cracking it. As the ship righted itself and began to climb, gravity must have pinned the dinosaur there, just a few meters in front of Wili, obviously in agony and begging for help.
Past the dinosaur plastered to his window, Wili noticed several helicopters hovering above in the orange-yellow sky.
Violating his own safety rules, Wili unbuckled and approached the window. Only a centimeter separated them as they shared eye contact, a day-old baby raptor and a hairy Honduran in a wetsuit and pirate hat. Over the pounding waves Wili could hear the baby squeak through the cracked glass, very un-chicken-like, pleading with Wili to do something, anything. Wili put his hands where the dinosaur had his claws, trying vainly to comfort him. And Wili instinctively knew the raptor was a him. They communicated volumes in that brief moment of eye contact. The raptor understood his sympathy and stopped crying. The noise he made next sounded more like a duckling calling for his mother.
Holy crap, Wili thought. I’ve just been adopted by a dinosaur! I’m the proud mommy of a vicious raptor who snacks on Guatemalans. He suddenly tasted salt water that leaked through the growing crack. Feeling the rest of the bridge staring at his back, the captain searched for something soothing to say that wasn’t total fucking bullshit. He racked his brain, but all he could think of was, “I’m sorry.” Why he should be sorry didn’t occur to him. After all, Wili spent hours hunting him down with a shotgun.
Then something else caught his eye. Which, at 1092 feet in length, was understandable. The swell was hitting the USS Bush broadside even as it lifted the entire ship up. Because the heavy carrier sat so low in the ocean, the water level rose on one side and fell on the other. The imbalance quickly grew acute. The more the water rose on its port side, the more it pushed the ship over. First a 30 degree angle, then 60, then 90. The core of the tsunami then hit and flipped the aircraft carrier over onto its back. Even the raptor sensed something big as it shifted his head to look to his right.
One part of Wili felt horror at the thought of five thousand sailors being thrown into the freezing Southern Ocean with 100,000 tons of steel on top of them. Another part, however, realized that the carrier was going to miss the Lina. His last minute maneuver saved their sorry asses.
Hoo-rah!
The Lina passed the Bush right as it landed on its back, less than 100 meters away. However, the water displaced by this crash fell behind them. They were clear! As the carrier disappeared from view and as the raptor slipped back onto the empty deck, Wili looked around and saw that he was on top of a hill of water in the middle of the ocean. For a guy who spent his entire adult life at sea, this was really weird. But this was a day full of weird.
Even over the roar of the ocean, Wili could hear the groan of steel under stress. He looked at a monitor and saw the carrier floating upside down. For a moment it looked like the tsunami was going to turn it right side up again. But the strength of the wave ebbed and, like the Treasury, it remained under water.
Wili looked at the raptor which appeared pleasantly surprised he was still alive. The baby got up like he fell off a ladder and did what looked like a fucking dance, shaking off the water like a dog. He shrieked in joy at being not extinct.
Then the ship started going down the hill. Aww, fuck.
“Reverse engines! Full power. Keep us straight on! Prepare for submersion.”
The back of the wave was fortunately not nearly as steep as the front. Wili guessed it was twice as long and half as steep, which saved them. Speed was the last thing they wanted now. You want speed when driving up a long, steep hill, but driving down you need to keep a foot on the brake to avoid losing control. And you certainly don’t want to make a radical turn because that could flip you over.
Their hill of water was collapsing even as the ship descended the tsunami’s back going way too fast. Instead of a propeller, they had maneuverable water jets which gave them tremendous flexibility. They could turn far tighter than ships half their size. And now their water jets were in full reverse. Their momentum was still too great and the hill collapsing too fast. Still, it helped, and possibly saved them.
The baby dinosaur saw what was coming and understood what it meant . After staring down past the bow, he turned to Wili one last time. The damn thing looked sad! His face was far more expressive than any bird he ever saw. And more intelligent. He clutched his left arm next to his body, as if it was broken, but with his right arm it looked like he waved to Wili, saying “bye” and “thanks” and “sorry about the Guatemalan” all at the same time. At least so it seemed to Wili, who had an emotional roller coaster of a day. In any case, Wili tearfully waved back.
Then the bow dived into the ocean, the front deck was instantly underwater, and the poor baby dinosaur was washed away in the blink of the eye. He didn’t even look at what was coming, instead preferring to share his last moment alive saying goo
dbye to his mommy, a hairy Honduran cargo ship captain ridiculously dressed in a wetsuit and pirate’s hat.
“All engines stop! Initiate station-keeping.”
The natural buoyancy of the ship slowly lifted it out of the water, like a dog shaking off the rain. In vain Wili searched for his baby dinosaur. It startled Wili to sympathize with these vicious beasts like that crazy sexy vet. He better get a hold of himself or he may start empathizing with his neglected wife.
As they rose to their normal height, Wili ordered the ship forward again, surprised at how calm the ocean was now. Then the Lorena splashed down to their right. Wili had the helmsman turn the ship to face the Lorena, which rose out of the ocean and turned to face the Lina. Which was fortunate because the Enterprise crashed behind them, its bow sinking hundreds of feet deep before righting itself. The wave this created may have toppled them if it hit them broadside, but the Lina was facing the wave and the Lorena was facing directly away, so they both sliced through the wave, wondering when the fuck this ride is ever going to end.
The USS Enterprise apparently landed at an angle, as it listed around 30 degrees to starboard before returning to an upright position. That was sure to clear their shelves. Hope they locked their cabinets. Wili saw through his binoculars that its entire bow was fucked up all to hell, like King Kong used it as a punching bag, whereas the Lina’s amorphous metal bow was fine. But it floated. 51 years old and it looked like it was going to live long enough to be scrapped. Thank goodness both carriers flew off all their planes before the impact, then put all their helicopters into the air right before the mega-tsunami hit. Ironic that the oldest carrier survived while the newest perished.
But their work wasn’t over yet.
“Lorena, we are commencing rescue operations.”
The Lina and Lorena raced to the Bush to see how many sailors they could save. Amid all the debris, this was going to take awhile. But they were alive! Well, except for the baby dinosaur and the Bush, they were alive.
Then his entire crew heard the unmistakable sound of a roaring T-rex, following by shrieks from the raptors and ratites.
Great. That’s just fucking great. Wili couldn’t believe his lousy luck. The fucking dinosaurs have woken up!
42
Jackson looked for the tallest among them because, at 6 and a half feet, that was always his son. With his heat resistant outfit and florescent helmet, his thin son looked as alien as the landscape. Jackson motioned for his father to follow him. They met at the side of the heloplane where his son was emptying canisters of compressed hydrogen gas into the aircraft. Jackson opened his visor and they did the same.
“I want to see the hole.”
Sure, he pointed his thumb back at the wall of smoke that rose to the heavens, but they knew instantly what he was talking about. And they both knew lots of reasons why it was a bad idea. Like dust killing their engine in mid-flight, or falling regolith knocking them out of the sky. Instead, they nodded their heads and waved everyone into the heloplane.
With everybody aboard, David flew high around the wall of smoke. They passed around three sets of binoculars, stunned at their state’s transformation.
“It looks like Mercury,” the professor concluded, pointing to all the craters they saw.
David flew carefully around the billowing hole where they could get the best view of it. Not that you could see much, past the dust, smoke, and gases. Jackson looked around for where Highway 10 used to be, but could not see it. He sure as hell hoped Arthur blasted the regolith clear.
The crater hole looked alive, like Godzilla was about to leap out and fuck up Tokyo. Chava naturally filmed the hell out of it. Not wanting to waste fuel, Jackson pointed to the mountain ridge that towered over the crater, where David battled cross-winds to carefully land on what he hoped was stable land.
As they stampeded out of the heloplane, the first thing that confronted them was the intense heat, like the mother of all bon fires. Steam rose from the ground at their feet. Everywhere they heard the sound of popcorn popping. Getting out of the aircraft was like opening an oven door and climbing inside. Unlike a rose, it looked like a volcano, smelled like a volcano, and burned like a volcano. It even had the billowing smoke coughing up burps of gases. The many background noises merged into one constant rumble. What couldn’t be heard were normal noise -- the chirping of a bird, the hum of street traffic, someone blasting Beyonce.
The sight of a smoldering hole one hundred kilometers wide and twenty-five deep captured the senses and drew them nearer like a magnet. Jackson couldn’t even see the bottom of the damn thing. It looked big enough to fit the Moon. Nobody seemed to mind the dust and smoke enveloping them. Dirt balls pelted them like hail. Even from their vantage high on the mountain overlooking it, they could not see past the crater. The view was simply stunning. The crater looked perfectly round, with a small ring in the exact middle, inside a larger ring around it. To the crater’s north stood a high plain that extended to both the east and west as far as the eye could see. Which, admittedly, wasn’t far. Even at this height.
Then, suddenly, Jackson heard another big meteorite strike over the northern horizon. They all stopped to look up to see if anything was coming down at them. Like lightning striking twice, it would really suck to get killed by a meteorite while standing alongside the newest mega-crater in the world. Then they heard another rumble, exactly like the first one. Chava took off north to see what he could film. Jackson and his father removed their helmets to hear better. Sure enough, they heard another explosion just like the first two. Same size and distance, and coming at regular intervals.
Ah! Jackson relaxed. While one drone started dropping gamma-ray bombs from San Diego going east, another started at Yuma going towards San Diego. While one started at Santa Clara going north, another started at the Nevada border going south down the California side of the Colorado River. While one went from New Mexico to San Antonio, another started from San Antonio towards New Mexico. And, lastly, while one went from Yuma to New Mexico, another blasted from New Mexico towards Yuma.
To hide behind the meteorites, the first ones were the biggest bombs, which the computer models said would clear a circle several kilometers in diameter with an optimum airburst. They needed to detonate those big ones right after the main impact and before the asteroid’s immediate trail crashed into Earth. The highway farthest from survivors would be cleared last.
Holy crap! He was going to have a corridor 1500 miles long, from San Diego to San Antonio, right through the thickest regolith. As the distant explosions continued with regularity, Jackson felt his anus unpucker. He gestured to everyone that everything was okay.
Lorena took her helmet off and motioned for the rest of them to do the same. They huddled together to hear what she had to say through the filter mask covering her mouth and nose. Never in a million years would Jackson have guessed what was on her mind. His anus re-puckered in anticipation.
“Henry Frances Jackson, thirty years ago you promised to build me the home of my dreams. Ever since I have lived where you wanted me to live. Now it’s my turn. This is where I want to live. Build me my dream home right here.”
Jackson could easily tell she wasn’t kidding. Lorena had that don’t-you-dare-fuck-with-me tone of voice that her kids were so wary of. Beneath her filthy hair, dirty clothes, and dust for makeup, Lorena never looked better. Lots of practical objections immediately rose up, like the nearest grocery store is a thousand miles away, or bringing material will be really fucking expensive. Or there is no water. Or electricity. Or roads.
But none of that really mattered. He did indeed promise her a dream home, and apparently what he built in Green Valley wasn’t it. And money really wasn’t a concern. They could get here by heloplane. The ridge was big enough, and it sloped down before the mountain rose up and away from them. Hell, there was enough room for several thousand homes on this ridge. He could even custom-build Lorena’s out of amorphous metal, then airlift it here. And he could
generate his own electricity with solar panels and wind turbines. He could get TV and phone service through OmniNet, if he could wrestle control of Butler’s company. If Butler stayed at his log cabin, then Jackson would have to talk to his heirs, who would probably be happy to sell.
“Dad, all this land belongs to the main Tohono O’Odham Indian Reservation. Without infrastructure, they can’t live here now, and they lost their three Desert Diamond casinos, so they’re gonna be hurting for money. And I did save their fucking lives by flying them out of here. You and the chairman are old buddies. Do you think you can get the council to sell me their main reservation and the San Xavier District near Tucson?”
“That’s like 4500 square miles. Where would they live? How much you gonna pay them?”
“The government isn’t gonna let them keep Ground Zero. There will be intense pressure to turn it into a national park, so they’re gonna lose it anyways. They might as well make some money from it. Start my offer at $10 million, but I’ll go up to $100 million. With that, they could build themselves several thousand McMansions in the San Lucy District near Gila Bend.”
“A hundred million! Dollars?” Lorena seemed shocked. “You don’t need to spend a hundred million just to make me a home. I’ll live anywhere you want.”
Both Jackson’s father and son laughed.
“He can afford it,” the professor assured her.
“Dad, how much you gonna make? Several trillion?”
“At least,” his grandfather agreed. “The markets dropped dead, so he stands to make trillions once he covers those shorts and triggers them derivative contracts.”
Jackson desperately tried to hide his surprise. He had a pretty good chunk of the world’s $500 trillion in derivative contracts, most of which would soon trade for a tiny fraction of their former value. Before the impact he collected several trillion from thousands of smaller financial institutions, hoped to collect several trillion more from the world’s blue chips, and assumed he would be owed several trillion more that he would never be paid.
