Mac turned and headed back to the bridge. He picked up the red bridge phone and rang the flight deck.
“Flight deck, this is the Captain. What is the condition of the landing platform? We’ve got choppers incoming.”
“The deck is clear, Captain. We’re standing by to receive.”
“Very well, stand by for an ETA from the CIC,” he said disconnecting the line and redialing.
“CIC: Minichino,” the voice on the other end replied nervously.
“Lieutenant, what’s the status of our away teams?” he asked as he groped for his pipe in his pocket.
“Captain, we lost power to the comm links and tracking systems when we were hit by the wave. They have switched over to back up, and we are reacquiring their position now,” he stated. “Captain, the chartroom says that monster wave carried us over six miles. Also, the Blakeslee reports no serious damage, but the Milford is listing badly to port after sustaining heavy damage. Luckily, both ships have reported only minor injuries, no fatalities.”
“That is good news, Lieutenant. Have the away team's communications link patched through to me on the bridge. I need to speak to Colonel Sears.”
“Yes, sir, right away.”
“Alpha three two-niner, this is the Hazleton. Do you copy?” he said. After a long moment, a response finally came.
“Hazleton, this is Alpha three two-niner, it’s good to hear you Captain,” Sears’ voice boomed over the bridge loud speaker.
“Colonel, it’s good to still be here. You are clear for landing on the platform.”
“Roger, Captain; be advised that we have visitors on the Sea Knights.”
“It wouldn’t happen to be Turner, would it?” he asked.
“That’s affirmative, Captain. It’s Turner and his team.”
“I’m looking forward to shaking his hand, Colonel. Hazleton, out….” He picked up the phone again and called the radio room. “Radio shack, get me Admiral Borland at COMLANTFLT.” After a few minutes, the admiral’s voice came over the other end.
“Go ahead, Mac. What have you got?”
“Be advised, Admiral, there’s a tsunami headed your way. We just barely survived the front end of it here off the coast of La Palma.”
“Can you give me a height estimate, Captain?”
“I’d say between one hundred fifty and two hundred feet, sir.” There was silence from the other end of the line. “Admiral…are you there?”
“I got that, Captain. I’ll report this to the President,” he said. “You are to continue your mission of offering aid and assistance to La Palma. They’re most likely going to need it. The State Department will be contacting the local government there, and I'm sure they will be grateful for the help.”
“What about the east coast of the United States, Admiral?” Mac asked, somewhat apprehensively. “They’re gonna get the full brunt of this tsunami.”
“Evacuation and relief efforts have already been implemented back home, Mac,” Borland said. “All we can do is wait and see what transpires.”
“God help them,” Mac said. “I’ve seen tsunamis in my life, but nothing the likes of this.”
“My people will keep you posted, Mac. Just do what you can there for now.” Borland finished, ending the conversation.
“Commander Ewell,” McKnight said to his first officer as he hung up the phone. “Once we’ve retrieved the away teams, set course for the western coast of La Palma. Have the well stand by to dispatch the LCM-8s with relief supplies,” he ordered as he looked out at the crimson sky that announced the coming night. “It’s been one hell of a day,” he said to no one in particular, “one hell of a day.”
***
The massive surface wave generated by the La Palma landslide quickly subsided from its original height as it moved into the deeper waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Fortunately, the Hazleton and her escort ships were spared the initial wave coming off shore towered at almost four hundred feet. Its height rapidly diminished to nothing more significant than a one meter hump as it traversed the vast, deeper regions of the Atlantic Ocean. It was almost imperceptible to the many ocean-going vessels and container ships traveling its surface.
The tsunami pressed onward, relentlessly reaching out for anything in its path as it moved closer and closer to the shoreline of the eastern seaboard. Ultimately, the massive pressure wave traveled up the continental rise to the shallower waters of the mainland, unstoppable in its quest for landfall. It seemed to sense the cities lying in its path and, with relentless fury, bore down on their hapless inhabitants.
38
At noon that day, President Alan Clark announced the initial threat of the tsunami to the nation. He spoke of the impending danger and issued a coastal evacuation warning for the entire eastern seaboard. Though not mandatory at that time, the warning served to place the populace on a standby alert. The announcement coincided with the emergency broadcast system interruption of all media outlets, such as television and radio.
To handle the immense traffic flow expected, state and local emergency management bureaus were dispatched to coordinate evacuation routes from the coast in conjunction with police and National Guard units.
Many citizens decided not to wait for the mandatory evacuation. They fled well beyond the fifteen-mile safety zone prescribed in the warning broadcasts by the U.S. Geological Survey and FEMA.
Massive traffic jams ensued along the coastline as people packed the few belongings they could carry and fled to points inland. Some found respite with friends and family. Others, not knowing where to go, crowded the streets in panic and confusion, which worsened the situation for law enforcement.
The Federal Emergency Management Agency, under the direction of Stephen Boyle, had been mobilized well in advance. In his mindset, the confusion and lack of planning that transpired after Hurricane Katrina would not happen on his watch. Relief teams with supplies, mobile emergency rooms, and medical units were deployed all along the coast.
By 1:45 Eastern Standard Time, the FEMA mobilization began to fan out just as the partial landslide on La Palma occurred. It was then that the President issued a mandatory evacuation and also reluctantly ordered the Tomahawk strike on Bishamon complex.
President Clark sat pensively, having just received word of the approaching tsunami from Admiral Borland. He closed his eyes and endeavored to imagine the devastation that was about to befall his country. His mind whirled as he tried to contemplate all that would transpire in the aftermath of this catastrophe.
Clark had been hesitant at first in using the Tomahawk missile. He received the report that progress of the initial landslide had been halted, but had no confirmation from the Turners of their success in halting the Scalar weapon. He had been advised by the Senate Majority Leader, Speaker of the House, and others on Capitol Hill that failing to take action would be irresponsible to the American people.
The conference call debating the issue was heated at times. When the fiendish plot was linked to Robert Pencor, Senate Majority Leader Dobson suddenly became quite agitated, and insisted that swift action be taken.
A senator for twenty-five years, Leader Dobson had served in the Senate hearings during the investigations into Pencor and held little compassion for the former oil tycoon.
Clark was second-guessing himself. He wondered if the natural course of events, or his actions with the release of the Tomahawk, had unleashed the hideous nightmare presently headed for the east coast. Turner warned him of the risks of taking such measures, even though his scientific adviser could not confirm nor dismiss the results.
“Mr. President,” FEMA Director Stephen Boyle said, interrupting his reverie, “all disaster teams have been mobilized, and are standing by. Our evacuation teams report the process is going as well as can be expected. Major coastal cities are reporting total gridlock. All exits out of New York City are at a standstill, even with all access roads and tunnels designated one way out. The smaller coastal cities and towns are proceeding in an orde
rly fashion, but law enforcement officers making last minute checks are finding bands of armed looters all along the coast. In some coastal cities, total anarchy has erupted and law enforcement is being fired upon.”
“It’s like the roaming gangs in New Orleans after Katrina, but on a much grander scale,” Homeland Security Director Tim Byrd said in disgust.
“Furthermore,” Boyle continued, “many people have decided to remain and ride it out despite our recommendations to evacuate.”
“Those fools don’t know what they are up against,” Under Secretary Robertson added to the conversation.
“Stephen, I want all of our people out of harm’s way by 5:30,” President Clark said. “If there are those who insist on risking their lives foolishly, then it’s their decision. I won’t risk the lives of the good men and women under our authority for the sake of fools and looters.”
“I’ll make sure all departments get that directive, Mr. President,” FEMA Director Boyle stated.
“Mr. President, I think we have basically covered all contingencies on this crisis,” Robertson said optimistically. “By our actions today, many American lives will have been spared a tragic death.”
“No, James,” the President countered. “We owe most of this to Turner and his associates on Tenerife. If it wasn’t for them, we would have been blindsided by this act of terrorism. They're the real heroes on this day.”
The Oval Office became strangely quiet as each reflected on the massive undertaking that lie before them. Alan Clark’s mind couldn’t stop thinking about Senator Dobson. Why was he so insistent on the missile strike? My gut tells me he’s hiding something, he thought in a troubled manner. The buzzing phone interrupted his silent respite.
“Yes, Maggie.”
“Mr. President, I have Peter Markson from the U.S. Geological Survey on the line.”
“Put him through, Maggie,” he replied as Markson’s voice came on the other end of the line.
“Mr. President, I thought you should be aware that according to our calculations, the wave will be somewhat less in size than predicted. Our field scientist on La Palma reported that approximately one half of the predicted land mass slid into the sea. This should have a negating effect on its size when it reaches the mainland of the United States.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” Clark responded, relieved to hear any positive news under these circumstances. “What can we expect as far as wave height?”
“It’s difficult to be precise, but our people feel we may see a tsunami run-up of thirty to fifty feet, possibly more. Seeing we have no tsunami buoys in the Atlantic Ocean, it’s a best guess scenario. We are pretty sure that the worst of the wave will impact the Mid-Atlantic States.
“Rest assured, Mr. President, there will still be tremendous damage from the momentum of this tsunami. Structural damage will be significant, but its run-up inland should be greatly reduced. Although it is still bad, we think it is likely to affect two to three miles inland from the coast line rather than the original ten to fifteen we predicted,” he said.
“Thank you, Mr. Clarkson. Let us know if you discover anything new. Good-bye,” Clark said, hanging up the phone.
“All we can do now is wait, gentlemen,” President Clark said, folding his hands together. “We wait, and hope for the best.”
39
Atlantic City, New Jersey
It was a typical warm summer evening in the posh New Jersey resort town of Atlantic City. Towering hotel casinos lined the beach, and the setting sun’s rays shimmered off their glass facades. Interspersed among the glamorous casinos on the strip were a multitude of high-rise condominiums and apartment complexes, home to many long-time residents who lived and worked in the thriving resorts.
This evening was markedly different. The normally bustling city streets were strikingly devoid of activity, casting the resort area into an eerie silence never before witnessed. The countless tour buses that inundated the town on a daily basis were nowhere to be found. Most had been commandeered by the New Jersey State Emergency Management Team for the evacuation of the city's countless visitors and residents who had no means of escape from the danger zone.
The Atlantic City Medical Center transported its patients to the outlying community hospitals, where they received the care that was needed. Critical patients were being airlifted to specialized facilities in Camden and Philadelphia.
The only people remaining were those who opted to stay, in total disregard of the evacuation order issued earlier in the day. Many residents felt a false sense of security in the numerous casino towers and residential high-rises that lined the beachfront of Pacific Avenue.
There were others that remained in defiance of the evacuation order. Lawless, anarchistic mobs now roamed the silent streets, plundering and looting the vacant shops, stores, and hotels that lined the streets and boardwalk.
These bands of armed gangs were kept at bay by the authorities earlier in the day. However, the emergency management’s mandated retreat from the danger zone at 5:30 allowed the hordes of looters and criminal elements to make their presence known.
Numerous, bloody firefights erupted throughout the city. The most violent were the attempted assaults on the casinos, where outnumbered security personnel did their best to halt the onslaught. The few casinos that completely evacuated were totally ransacked by multitudes of fortune seekers. Overturning and smashing thousands of slot machines on the casino floors, they carried their ill-gotten booty of coins out using table cloths from the many restaurants within.
Hundreds of armed people now wreaked havoc in the streets, committing murders, robbery, and rape on a grand scale. These were the worst of mankind; the debased, cruel, and anarchistic ones. They held no fear of justice and rejected any sense of remorse. They killed for the sheer joy of it, and shot at the occasional state police helicopter that came within range.
Law and justice ceased to exist at this dark moment in time, but a justice more cruel and swift than anyone’s worst nightmare was moments away. Indiscriminate in its fury toward the innocent or the guilty, its unseeing and uncaring malevolence moved in like a veil of death.
At 7:03 PM eastern time, more than a thousand people reveled on the vacant boardwalk and beach. They enjoyed their bounty of stolen money, beer, and liquor, courtesy of many businesses throughout the city. Many violent encounters erupted, most ending in gunfire as bodies lie scattered all along the town’s beaches. It was a massive celebration of lawlessness, with most in attendance intoxicated beyond any semblance of sound reason and oblivious to the fate that was about to consume them.
The New Jersey State Police helicopter approached from the downtown area, flying north towards the midtown section by the beachfront. Under command of the emergency management team stationed off shore in nearby Galloway Township, Trooper Tom Putney was making one final pass in a last ditch effort to warn those who might be foolish enough to remain on ground level.
To his utter amazement, he saw the throngs of people milling on the beach and boardwalk, with many actually swimming in the ocean.
“Command, this is Zulu-Victor-two-six-three. I’m coming up on the mid-town sector now. Be advised, hundreds of people are on the beach and many are in the water. I’m going to try to warn them. Over….” he said, reducing his speed and coming to a hover high above the boardwalk.
“Roger, Zulu-Victor-two-six-three; be alert for weapons fire. Other patrols report being shot at from the ground. Over….” the dispatcher responded.
“Copy that, command, will advise. Out….” Putney replied. He picked up the external PA microphone and switched it on, then began descending toward the boardwalk. “To you people on the beach: you must get to higher ground immediately. Failure to do so will put you at extreme risk of losing your lives,” he shouted into the microphone, above the disturbance of the helicopters rotors.
He saw the flashes of gunfire immediately erupt from below him. One bullet smashed through the fuselage ju
st above his head and exited the other side of the aircraft.
“Damned fools,” he yelled, quickly pitching the helicopter away from the boardwalk and passing over the beach in the direction of open water. He checked the gauges for any sign of engine trouble from the barrage, but could see none. Reaching a distance off the beach that was safe from gunfire, he saw a forty-six foot Cigarette speed boat cruising slowly below him.
My God! They’re having a party, Putney thought in stunned disbelief. He came to the realization that there was nothing he, nor anyone else, could do for these misguided people. Putney prepared to swing his craft around to leave, but stopped when he saw a sight that he would carry to his grave.
The water’s edge began to draw back from the beach, further and further, as if a gigantic blue-green carpet was being rolled up. The velocity of the outflow turned the Cigarette boat completely around and carried it with the rushing current until it finally bottomed out on the sand. The sleek, bright red craft was left sitting high and dry, more than three thousand feet away from what used to be the shore line.
Putney could do nothing but stare at the horror-stricken faces of the boaters as they abandoned the speed boat and began running wildly toward the beach. Most of them became bogged down immediately in the loose muddy bottom, stuck like flies in a spider’s web. Putney could see their silent screaming and desperate waves to him for help.
He glanced at the beachfront to see a mass of people strolling down to the now exposed ocean bottom, seeking a closer look at the phenomenon.
Putney, not able to endure the sight anymore, decided to leave. As he spun the craft around, he witnessed a sight that would haunt him for years. His eyes locked on a rapidly approaching, monstrous wall of white foaming water. Higher and higher, the boiling maelstrom rose from the depths. The sixty-foot high wall of death and destruction bore down on the unfortunate individuals on shore, their fates now sealed.
Zero Point Page 32
