Under a Tell-Tale Sky: Disruption - Book 1

by R. E. McDermott

  “If things get back to normal, I’ll take the heat for any decisions I make, and be thankful to do it,” Kinsey said, shaking his head, “but I honestly can’t see that happening. And as far as the other guys, they agreed to a fifty-fifty split on resources, as long as they kept the food and we documented everything.” He smiled. “I haven’t been in the service this long without learning how to cover my ass when necessary. Mike Butler is the chief in charge of the Aids to Navigation Team, and he’s taking over as CO of the Oak Island Station. We filled out the paperwork and had a short ‘change of command’ ceremony this morning. Me and the other guys going with you all officially requested transfers to the Marine Safety Unit in Port Arthur, Texas, which in his role of commanding officer, Mike provisionally approved since we aren’t in contact with anyone to say no. We followed the time-honored concept it’s better to apologize than ask permission.”

  Hughes grinned appreciatively. “Pretty slick, but what about all the stuff?”

  “We’re one of the first units to receive our allotment of the new solar panels, and it would be selfish of us not to share them with our unit in Port Arthur during this time of scarcity,” Kinsey said piously. “Nor can we in good conscience see valuable government property or, for that matter, this private vessel, which we have an obligation to safeguard, sail unprotected in this increasingly lawless environment. Therefore, we have drawn sufficient armaments and resources to execute that protective mission. Further to the execution of the mission, and in the US Coast Guard’s best tradition of making maximum use of limited resources, we are pursuing those multiple missions efficiently, by cost effectively transporting personnel, equipment, and dependents to their new duty station while simultaneously conducting said protective mission.”

  Hughes shook his head, still grinning. “I gotta hand it to you, Chief, you’re full of surprises.”

  Kinsey grinned back. “Oh, you haven’t seen them all yet, Captain. Matter of fact, I think we can expect visitors any time—”

  Kenny Nunez, the bosun, shouted across the deck from where he was standing at the ship side next to the terminal. “Captain, there’s some sort of armored car with a machine gun on top coming this way through the terminal!”

  “I was getting to that,” Kinsey said. “Now about those provisions…”

  M/V Pecos Trader

  Conference Room

  Day 9, 5:00 p.m.

  Hughes’ chair squeaked a bit as he leaned to his left and whispered to Georgia Howell, “Any word from Tex?”

  She shook her head and whispered back, “No, but it shouldn’t be long. She’ll either find something or she won’t, and I told her to call me on the radio, either way.”

  Hughes nodded and turned his attention to the group crowded elbow to elbow around the rectangular table that nearly filled the small conference room. He sat at the head, nominal host to the impromptu meeting, and opposite him at the far end sat a man of early middle age with chestnut hair shot with streaks of gray Hughes suspected weren’t there a week earlier. Dark circles under the man’s eyes gave testimony to lack of sleep. His ACUs bore the insignia of a major, and he was flanked on one side by a younger black man wearing lieutenant’s bars and on the other by a sergeant.

  On Hughes’ end of the table sat his three senior officers, and in the middle on either side were the two senior Coast Guardsmen, Kinsey representing the group sailing with the ship, and Chief Boatswain’s Mate Mike Butler as the new CO of Station Oak Island. Also summoned to the meeting at the suggestion of Dan Gowan (and looking decidedly ill at ease) was Levi Jenkins.

  Major Douglas Hunnicutt shook his head. “It’s a good location, but there’s no way we have enough people to secure it. We’re down to fifty combat effectives, maybe seventy-five if we multitask support people, and between the container terminal and oil terminal, there’s just too much perimeter fence. And we’ve still got over three hundred civilians depending on us.” He sighed. “I’d like to save those people at least. I’m thinking the wisest course of action is to get out of the city while we still have the means, and hope FEMA resupplies us.”

  “But we don’t really have to defend it all, sir,” Sergeant Josh Wright countered. “It’s ten feet high topped with razor wire, so we just have to control the gates and patrol the rest, while we use the containers to build an interior strong point if we need to fall back. If the Coasties move up and join us like Chief Kinsey and I discussed,” he added, warming to the argument, “we’ll have our back to the river and they’ll be protecting that. Besides, I’d rather take a chance on whatever is in these containers than FEMA. There must be a thousand containers here, and there’s BOUND to be some food in some of them.”

  “You don’t know WHAT’S in those containers, Sergeant,” the major countered, “and we don’t have the manpower to start a treasure hunt. And as far as moving the containers, we don’t even know if any of the equipment in the terminal is operable or if we have anyone who can operate it even if it—”

  “Sorry to interrupt, Major,” Hughes said, “but there are at least SEVERAL thousand containers in the terminal, and I suspect the sergeant’s right about the food. The US imports a lot, and it just makes sense some percentage of these boxes contain canned goods.” The major glared at him for interrupting and was about to cut him off when Hughes raised a hand. “But we’ll know soon enough. Our Coast Guard friends here were kind enough to ferry our third mate to the terminal. She’s sailed container ships and she’ll search the terminal offices for cargo manifests. We should know pretty quickly what’s in each box and exactly where it’s located in the terminal. There won’t be any need for a treasure hunt.”

  Hunnicutt sighed and settled back in his chair, then looked back and forth between Hughes and Wright. “Even presuming we identify useful resources, what you’re suggesting is looting, the prevention of which is one of our primary missions. The contents of those containers doesn’t belong to us, and I have no authority to appropriate private property. My orders are to prevent looting with any force necessary.”

  The room fell silent for a long moment until Dan Gowan spoke from Hughes’ right.

  “How’s that ‘looting prevention’ thing working out for you?”

  Hunnicutt glared at the chief engineer and was about to reply when Hughes cut him off.

  “Look, Major,” Hughes said. “I understand your position, but when did you last receive any orders you have even a remote chance of successfully executing?”

  Hunnicutt shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I haven’t gotten any orders that made sense since this whole fiasco started”—his face hardened—”but that doesn’t mean we should quit trying to execute our—”

  “Pecos Trader , Pecos Trader , this is Tex. Do you copy?” squawked Georgia Howell’s radio.

  “We copy, Tex,” Georgia said into her own unit. “Find anything?”

  “The mother lode,” came the reply, “but you really need to see this for yourself. I’m on the way back, be there in ten. Tex out.”

  ***

  Fifteen minutes later, the group watched impatiently while Georgia Howell leafed quickly through a thick stack of paper brought in by Shyla Texeira, the third mate. Tex retreated to the corner and leaned against the bulkhead, her arms crossed as she waited and watched.

  “Dammit, Mate,” Hughes said, when Howell was about a third of the way through the thick stack, “what’s the deal?”

  “Oh, sorry,” said Howell, looking up. “There’s tons of stuff here. I’m only scanning for food, but so far I’d guess at least a hundred containers, maybe more. Canned seafood of all sorts, pine nuts, water chestnuts and other Asian veggies … it’s just … a lot,” she finished, unable to articulate the sheer magnitude of their discovery.

  Hughes looked at Hunnicutt. “Well, Major, there’s obviously food here. What now?”

  Hunnicutt nodded. “Under those circumstances, I suppose it does make sense to secure this area as our new base of operations. We’ll use what we nee
d to sustain ourselves and distribute food to the civilian population until FEMA can get its act together and the power is restored—”

  “The power’s not coming back, at least not for a long time. Maybe never.”

  Everyone turned to where Levi sat, looking nervous at the sudden attention.

  “And how do you figure that?” the major asked, then looked back and forth between Levi and Hughes. “And who the hell are you, exactly? I can understand the role of everyone else here, but I can’t quite figure out what qualifies you to be in this meeting.”

  Levi opened his mouth to respond, but Hughes beat him to it.

  “Mr. Jenkins is a trusted member of my crew,” Hughes said. “And of all the people here, he’s the only one who’s been consistently right about what to expect since this whole mess began.” He paused. “So to answer your question, Major, he’s likely the only guy in this room with a clue, so my advice is to listen to him. Go ahead, Levi.”

  Levi hesitated, looking back and forth between Hughes and Hunnicutt. He took a deep breath and started to speak.

  “I’m no expert,” he said, “but I’ve been reading about this stuff a long time. Solar storms are sometimes accompanied by coronal mass ejections, or CMEs for short, which generate power spikes in the electrical distribution grid. In this case, we’ve been hit by multiple CMEs. The way I understand it, the long transmission lines act like antennas to collect power, and it pretty much burns out anything connected to them, specifically the big transformers. Those transformers are big and expensive, and there are minimal spares. If the solar storm smoked even ten or twenty percent of those big transformers, power could be down for months or even years.

  “So ask yourself, where are they going to get those spares if there’s no power to the plants that make them? And supposing they did miraculously get spares, who’s going to install them? It’s not like a hurricane, where linemen from Maine or Nebraska or Washington State roll in to help out. This disaster is everywhere, and even supposing there was enough fuel in the right places to get repair crews on the road, all those linemen are trying to make sure their own families don’t starve. No one is going to voluntarily leave their family in danger or their own community in the dark to go help restore power somewhere else.”

  Levi shook his head again. “It took a century for electrical distribution to reach the stage it’s at now, or was a week ago anyway, and right now, we’re back to 1900. I think the power grid’s down for the count, and the quicker everyone accepts that, the better off they’ll be. Waiting for the lights to come on is right up there with waiting for Santa Claus, in my opinion.”

  The room fell silent.

  “That’s a pretty grim assessment,” Hunnicutt said at last, “and with all due respect, I’m not particularly inclined to base my actions on the theory of some random seaman. But supposing for the sake of argument you’re correct, what do you propose?”

  Levi shrugged. “We all saw those transformers exploding like a string of firecrackers, and we all saw the Northern Lights, so believe what you want, Major,” he said. “And I’m not proposing anything, because all this is way above my pay grade. I’m going to take care of me and mine, and that’s all I can really do. I just want y’all to go into things with your eyes open, that’s all.”

  Mike Butler spoke for the first time, nodding at Levi, “I just met most of the people in this room an hour ago, Major, but for my money, this guy makes more sense than anything else I’ve heard since this whole mess started. The way I look at it, we’ve got nothing to lose by assuming he’s right and acting accordingly, as in ‘plan for the worst, hope for the best.’ And speaking for the Coast Guard, we don’t have enough people to maintain a presence down at Oak Island and one here to guard what is apparently our only source of supply, so I’m moving my people and their dependents up here and forting up somehow, whatever you decide to do. There’s more than enough here to last us, all of us, for the foreseeable future, no matter what happens.”

  “Don’t think all these goodies y’all found are going to last forever,” Levi interrupted, “not the fuel in this ship and the terminal tanks, or the food in the containers. All of it has a shelf life.”

  “He’s right about the fuel at least,” Dan Gowan added. “This gas and diesel will last a year or two without stabilizer before it starts degrading, and there isn’t any way you’re going to come up with enough additive to stabilize it all. It will be useless in three years at the outside.” He shrugged. “I don’t know about the canned food, but I doubt it would last much longer.”

  “I can’t speak for anyone else,” Georgia Howell said, “but I’m not particularly thrilled about eating anything processed in China anyway, even if it was canned last week.”

  Laughter rippled through the group, easing the tension somewhat.

  “All right,” Hunnicutt said. “I’m not sold on this, but it does seem to be the only sensible plan at the moment.” He turned to the lieutenant beside him. “Lieutenant Arnold, set up a guard rotation for the gates both here at the oil terminal and also for the container terminal next door. One Humvee with a fifty caliber and two troops at each gate at all times. Knock a hole in the fence between the two terminals and keep two extra men and one of the civilian vehicles as a reserve force to support either location or respond to threats elsewhere on the perimeter. There are no apparent threats for the moment, so we’ll forgo full perimeter patrols until we get everyone inside and some sort of routine established. Also set up a schedule to ferry our troops and civilians here. I’d like everyone inside and things buttoned up by”—he looked at his wristwatch—”twenty-two hundred.”

  Arnold nodded. “Yes, sir, but that’s pretty quick. There’ll be some bitching from the civilians.”

  “Let ‘em bitch all they want, but make sure they understand we’re moving, and if they want to move with us and be protected during the move, they better be ready. If not, they get left behind and make their way here the best they can.”

  “Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Arnold said, and Hunnicutt turned to Sergeant Wright. “Sergeant, since this was all your idea, I suggest you start looking at the office buildings in both terminals and figure out how we’re going to turn them into accommodations.” He looked over at Mike Butler. “And since we’re sharing space with the Coast Guard, I suspect you need to coordinate with Chief Butler here.”

  “Yes, sir,” Wright said, “about that. It’s going to be pretty tight. However, there’s that RV dealership down Carolina Beach Boulevard. I bet there are a hundred RVs and trailers just sitting there, and a lot of them even have their own generators. Since fuel’s no longer a problem, I think they could be real useful.”

  Hunnicutt glared at him momentarily and then sighed.

  “What the hell. I guess if we’re going to be looters, we may as well be thorough,” Hunnicutt said. “Take what you need from wherever you find it, under one iron-clad condition. Under no circumstances are you to take anything occupied or actively claimed by civilians, even if you suspect they may have acquired it by less than legal means. We’re not in the confiscation business. All those poor bastards out there are having it hard enough without us adding to it. Are we clear on that?”

  “Crystal, sir,” Wright said.

  “There is one more thing we need to discuss,” Mike Butler interjected. “We haven’t talked about water. We’ve still got water at Oak Island, but I suspect that’s only because there’s a pretty big water tower for a fairly small population. However, we checked the buildings in the terminal and it looks like everything is drained here in Wilmington. I suppose we can boil and filter river water if we have to, but it will take some time to jury-rig some means of filtering and sterilizing water on a sizable scale.” He looked at Hunnicutt. “Y’all have any water to spare?”

  Hunnicutt looked at Wright, who shook his head. “A week or ten days drinking water for our own group. I don’t know—”

  “I think we can help you out there,” Hughes said, nodding tow
ard Dan Gowan. “How about it, Chief? Can we spot our friends here some water?”

  “Sure,” Gowan said. “We came in almost full, and I’ll be able to make some more on the way down to Texas. I could probably let you have two hundred tons with no problem.”

  “Ahh … how much is that in gallons?” Wright asked.

  “A bit more than fifty thousand,” Gowan said, “though I don’t know where you’re going to put it all.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Wright said. “You pump it and we’ll find a place to put it.”

  Chapter Nine

  M/V Pecos Trader

  Main Deck

  Wilmington Container Terminal

  Day 10, 4:00 p.m.

  Gowan leaned his elbows on the ship’s rail and squirted tobacco juice into the void between the ship’s side and the dock.

  “Damned if he didn’t do it,” Gowan said, watching a mixed group of North Carolina National Guardsmen and US Coast Guardsmen wrestle a heavy hose into an aboveground swimming pool erected on the dock near the stern of Pecos Trader . Two identical filled swimming pools rested in line with the pool currently filling, covers in place to protect the precious drinking water. Two Coasties were adding a fourth pool to the line, erecting it rapidly with a practiced ease gained from assembly of the first units.

  “Sergeant Wright is nothing if not resourceful,” Hughes said. “Will he be able to take the whole two hundred tons?”

  “He found a whole damned container full of those pools,” Gowan said, “and he wants to erect two more. That’ll give him capacity for almost two hundred and fifty tons, and I’ve a mind to give him the extra if you have no objection, Cap? I can distill almost that much on our southbound passage, and these guys are going to have their plate pretty full without having to immediately solve the water problem. Besides, it’s not like we’re not making out on the deal.”