Speed the Dawn

by Philip Donlay

  Janie pumped a gloved fist and glanced back at Lauren, smiling. “Bad day to be a Subaru, aye?”

  Below them, Montero was in a dead run. She went to the driver’s door, opened it, yanked a man out, and threw him hard to the ground. With one foot on the back of his neck, she pointed her Glock inside the SUV. Two other men piled out of the Tahoe, hands in the air, and lay down in a neat row next to the driver.

  Janie touched down forty yards from the wrecked vehicles, and Lauren climbed out of the helicopter and ran toward Montero.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “GO!” SHANNON SCREAMED as a tree lining the narrow fairway crashed to the ground, showering the truck with burning branches that shattered upon impact. Donovan stepped on the gas and the F-250 lurched forward and blew through a swarm of glowing embers, each piece pinging off the windshield before bouncing away. Above them, the forest canopy was on fire. Flames whirled and spread in all directions. Just to his right, through the trees, he spotted the sun glint off the ocean. Silhouetted against the water, he saw a small herd of deer racing through the trees.

  Donovan made a snap decision and peeled off the fairway. Shannon grabbed a handhold as he weaved the F-250 between the trunks of towering trees, racing through patches of burning pine needles. He held the wheel tight as they careened out of the trees onto another fairway. They sped downhill in the dwindling light, and Donovan slammed on the brakes to bring the truck to a stop just at the edge of a crater.

  He put the truck in park, slid out, and walked to the edge. The crater was maybe ten feet deep and thirty feet in diameter. He saw only dirt and sand at the bottom. Shannon stepped out of the cab, but instead of walking toward him, she headed for an overturned maintenance cart lying in the rough. When Donovan saw her sink to her knees and bury her face in her hands, he began to sprint toward her. As he neared, great wrenching screams erupted from her chest and carried across the empty golf course.

  Donovan slowed as he spotted the body trapped beneath the cart. The man looked to be in his twenties; a massive chest wound indicated that the end had been quick. Donovan knelt close to Shannon, and put an arm around her shoulders. He steadied her as she fought for tortured gasps of air.

  “It’s so senseless and random. He’s wearing a wedding band. Somewhere out there is a woman. She’s worried about him and he’s never coming home. Why!” Shannon screamed at the heavens and sobbed as her words poured out. “I listen to what my PTSD patients tell me, about what they experienced, the helplessness. I know about the deals they make with God to make it all stop. I can’t breathe. I need everything to slow down. I want the destruction and the horror, to somehow go away. When we made it to the golf course, away from the fires, I thought it would end. I saw this man lying underneath the cart. For a second, I thought he was alive. I hoped we could help him. We haven’t seen a single person today we could do anything for. When I saw he was dead, it just all hit me at once.”

  “Stopping here was the first relatively safe, calm moment we’ve had since we saw the first meteor,” Donovan said. “We haven’t had any time to contemplate what we’ve seen today. We need to accept the fact that neither one of us will ever be the same. But we need to keep moving forward. Our job is to survive. There will be time to try to pick up the pieces later.”

  Shannon made no effort to move as she continued to sob.

  “See that spit of land at the bottom of this hill?” Donovan pointed as she raised her head to look.

  “I see it.”

  “That’s where we’re going. It’s not far. If William is still there, we’ll find him and get out of here. We need to go before it’s completely dark.” Donovan put out a hand to help her to her feet.

  “What if we don’t find him?” Shannon said. “What will we do then?”

  “Then I can safely assume that he got out, and that we didn’t leave him here to die,” Donovan said. “Once we know, I’ll get you out of here. I promise.”

  Donovan walked Shannon to the truck and climbed behind the wheel. Shannon sat and stared out the side window. He put the Ford into gear and continued down the hill toward Cyprus Point. Donovan studied their surroundings. If his calculations were correct, the next fairway marked their first intersection with the front nine of Cyrus Point. Donovan sped toward the Pacific, turned golden by the smoky sunset. The 17th hole bordered the rugged rocky coast that ran south. There wasn’t much smoke coming from Cyprus Point, and all he hoped was that if William was still on the course when the wave hit, the elevation was high enough to have protected him from the tsunami.

  Donovan cut hard across the parking lot of the clubhouse and headed down a fairway that would take him to the ocean. “Keep your eyes open, it’s getting dark. He and his caddy could be anywhere.”

  Donovan honked the horn as he slowed. He located the switch to the light bar in the grill and lit up a wide swath of the rolling grass of the 18th hole. When he came to the 17th green, he rolled down his window, honked the horn again, and carefully drove around the putting surface and then began the slow drive down the 17th fairway.

  “William almost always hooked the ball to the left on this hole. That puts him along the tree line to our right.”

  Off to their left was the steep cliff that went all the way down to the ocean, and Donovan could hear the waves crash against the rocks below. He spotted something shiny at the same time Shannon pointed.

  Closing the distance, Donovan saw the reflection off the shaft of a solitary pitching wedge lying on the fairway. He stopped, jumped out, and as he drew closer, he began to feel the first flush of raw fear. Off to his left, in the rough, he recognized a mangled golf bag bent against the trunk of a tree. The bag looked like William’s.

  “William!” Donovan yelled as he hurried for the tree, searching for anything, a movement, a sound, something that would tell him his mentor was still alive. The sopping wet grass told him the wave of the tsunami had surged up and over the cliff onto the fairway. Behind him, headlights swept across the trees as Shannon repositioned the truck, flooding the long shadows with light. He broke out in a run as he reached for the rough, yelling for William. He stooped below the branches, and ten paces away, next to the crushed golf bag, he spotted colors that didn’t belong in nature. Pale yellow trousers and a blue pullover.

  William was lying on his stomach. The heavy strap of the golf bag had been pulled around the trunk of the tree and looped under William’s belt. His head was canted just far enough to the side for Donovan to see that his eyes weren’t open. He took two steps and then dropped to his knees and brushed the pine needles and grass from William’s face. Tears pushed to the surface of Donovan’s eyes as he whispered, “No, no, no.” He pressed his fingers into William’s neck and found nothing, then he dug deeper into the slack flesh and finally felt what he was searching for. A pulse. William was still alive.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  LAUREN ARRIVED AT the wrecked Tahoe just in time to hear Montero issue her first set of orders to the man who’d been driving. She’d rolled him over, and he was now lying on his back next to his two accomplices.

  “When I pull the barrel of this gun out from under your chin, you’re going to start talking, and it better be the truth. If not, I’ll pull the trigger and move on to your friend. Do you understand?”

  Montero was instantly rewarded with a wide-eyed nod.

  Lauren saw the fury in Montero’s eyes. It was a look Lauren had only seen once or twice. Each time it startled her.

  “Where did you steal this vehicle?” Montero said as she pressed her gun barrel against the trembling man’s forehead.

  “A parking lot near the aquarium.”

  “How did you get the keys?”

  “They were in the office, it was crazy, everyone was fighting over them. We all grabbed keys and started pushing buttons. This one started.”

  Lauren walked closer to the Tahoe; both doors on the driver’s side were still open. As she peeked inside, she saw a strap of some kind sticking out from
under the seat. As she pulled it out, she realized it was a purse. Upon closer inspection, there were several purses, and inside one of them were half a dozen men’s wallets. The last item she came across was Donovan’s briefcase. Lauren held up the evidence for Montero to see.

  “When did you leave the aquarium? What time?” Montero asked.

  “When that damn meteor came down and the tsunami siren went off.”

  “If you were in such a big hurry to leave, when did you find time to grab purses and wallets?”

  “We don’t know nothing about that.”

  Montero held up her free palm and turned her head to the side as if she was about to pull the trigger, and wanted to deflect the inevitable mess. The man began to thrash, and Lauren saw a wet spot form and spread out from the crotch of his jeans.

  “Them people was already dead,” he called out with his eyes wide, his lips trembling.

  “Here’s my advice for all three of you,” Montero said calmly, but her tone left no doubt as to her level of intent. “If my friends who rented this vehicle turn up dead, you’d better plead for the police to keep you in jail for the rest of your miserable lives. The day you walk free is the day you’d better start looking over your shoulder for me.”

  “Drop the gun!” a highway patrolman yelled as he stopped ten feet away, his service weapon drawn and pointed at Montero.

  Montero set aside her Glock and raised her hands and placed them behind her head. “Officer, I’m former FBI agent Veronica Montero. This is a rental car, and these men stole it from our colleague. They also have stolen purses and wallets in their possession. I placed them under citizen’s arrest.”

  “Dear God, you’re the Agent Montero?” The trooper lowered his weapon and tipped the brim of his hat in a gesture of respect.

  “That’s me.” Montero nodded and lowered her hands.

  “I’m Dr. Lauren McKenna, with the Defense Intelligence Agency.”

  Ernie was breathing heavily when he finally approached the group. The trooper turned and held up his hand for Ernie to slow his approach.

  “This is Mr. Rincon with Cal Fire,” Montero said. “He can vouch that we’re on a mission of some importance, and the only reason we’re even here was to alleviate the traffic obstruction. These carjackers were a bonus.”

  “Yes,” Ernie said as he caught his breath. “They’re with me.”

  On the road, traffic was moving again, and on impulse, Lauren waved. Her action resulted in a chorus of honking, waving drivers, showing their appreciation for being under way again.

  The trooper glanced at Lauren and then turned back to Montero. “I’ll take these men into custody. If I need a written report on this later, can I count on you to provide me with one?”

  “You bet,” Montero replied and handed the trooper a business card. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we need to go.”

  Lauren held her husband’s briefcase as if it were her own.

  Montero reached down for her Glock, and as she did, she leaned closer to the man she’d terrorized. “Don’t forget what we talked about.”

  Four minutes later, with streams of cars all honking and waving as they passed by, Janie brought the power up on the helicopter and lifted off.

  “Are you okay?” Lauren asked Montero.

  “Sure, why?” Montero answered as if startled by the question. “Oh, those guys. I saw the trooper coming, and knew I didn’t have much time to extract the truth. That tactic is usually pretty effective, especially when there’s more than one of them.”

  “Really, so you can just turn that rage on and off?”

  “It’s never actually turned off,” Montero said as if she were sharing common knowledge. “I just control how much people get to see.”

  Lauren wasn’t sure how much to believe, though a part of her understood that her friend might be telling the truth.

  “Nice grab with the briefcase,” Montero said. “I was afraid the trooper would want it as evidence.”

  “Ernie, exactly where are we going now?” Janie asked via intercom.

  “Straight east—I want to get a look at Highway 101, and then we’ll head west to the fire base.”

  As Janie was banking the helicopter around in a wide turn, a huge flash lit up the entire western horizon. Through the smoke and haze toward the ocean, the light flickered twice and then went dark.

  “What the hell was that?” Montero asked.

  “Forget the highway,” Ernie said. “Turn toward the ocean. I need to know what just blew.”

  Janie kept the turn coming around as a shock wave buffeted the helicopter. She kept the 412 steady and raced toward the point where they’d seen the explosion. In the dark of the smoke-induced twilight, they flew in silence until they saw the flames.

  “We just flew over this part of Seaside earlier, and it wasn’t burning,” Janie said. “Now it looks like a straight line through town is on fire.”

  “Ernie, look,” Lauren said as they approached the devastation. “That wasn’t a meteor. What caused that?”

  “A gas main,” Ernie said as he turned from the window. “It’s not supposed to happen. There are check valves that close, sectioning off the pipe and the contents. Even if it’s ignited at street level, it should just burn off the remaining gas aboveground and then go out. I don’t understand. Janie, you’d better get us out over the water. We’ll be safer out there.”

  Lauren sat back and thought of Ernie’s earlier description of a huge theatre fire. All she could do was hope that Seaside had already evacuated due to the tsunami, and the gas explosion didn’t kill anyone.

  “They’re moving the fire base further north,” Ernie reported as he listened to reports streaming in from the earpiece of his handheld radio. “Janie, I need to get back to San Jose. All senior emergency services officials are going to rendezvous at the airport.”

  Lauren felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, and a quick glance told her it was Michael. She pulled off her headset and answered.

  “Lauren, it’s Michael, can you hear me? Where are you?”

  “I can barely hear you. I’m in the helicopter,” Lauren said.

  “I think I saw him,” Michael said. “I think I saw Donovan on television. I was watching news coverage, and the studio cut to a live shot from their news helicopter just before they lost the feed. I swear I saw him, waving his arms.”

  “What station? Where are you now?” Lauren had a million questions—and just as many doubts.

  “It was Channel 10, that’s all I know. I tried calling them, but I keep getting a busy signal. In fact, I’m surprised I reached you. Right this moment, I’m standing next to an empty helipad. The same one where you guys dropped me off earlier. How soon can you pick me up?”

  “Janie,” Lauren shouted above the rotor noise. “Flying time to Stanford Hospital?”

  “Twenty minutes.”

  “We’ll be there in twenty minutes. Michael, how certain are you of this?” Lauren needed to hear a number, something she could latch onto and process. She counted on Michael to give her the unvarnished truth.

  “In reality, maybe fifty percent,” Michael said. “I only watched it once, but, Lauren, the instant I saw the guy, I shot up out of my seat and yelled at the television. My gut tells me it’s him.”

  “We’re coming as fast as we can.” Lauren ended the call and then pressed the phone against her chest and closed her eyes and tried to control her soaring hopes.

  “What’s happened?” Montero asked.

  Lauren slipped her headset back on. “Okay, everyone. That was Michael. He’s still at the hospital. He was watching a live TV feed from a news helicopter, and swears he saw Donovan, alive. The feed was lost, but we have a station, Channel 10. We’re going to get Michael and then drop Ernie at the San Jose airport.”

  “Once we land at San Jose, I want to top off the fuel tanks,” Janie said.

  “Where’s Channel 10 located?” Montero said and began typing into her phone.

  “Channel
10 will be waiting when we land,” Ernie said. “I’ve already been alerted that there’s a media presence starting to gather outside the Pacific Jet Center.”

  “Perfect,” Lauren said and then put her hand over her microphone and leaned toward Ernie. “How bad is the situation now, with a fire base in retreat?”

  “Bad. I’ll know more when I get all the updates on the ground. I hope you’re not thinking of going back down into the fire, at night?”

  “If I know where my husband is, and that he’s still alive, then, yes. If it was your family, what would you do?”

  “Firefighters are my family, and I know for a fact that dozens of my brothers and sisters are missing. This could be the single biggest loss of life event in Cal Fire history. My job, and yours, is to use our positions to try to save the population. Or to put it another way, you and I need to help everyone get out of the burning nightclub.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “WILLIAM, I NEED you to talk to me.” Donovan was afraid to move his friend without knowing what his injuries might be.

  “Oh God,” Shannon said as she arrived at Donovan’s side. “Is he alive?”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to move him yet.”

  “His foot.” Shannon put her hand over her mouth and pointed to William’s right golf shoe.

  Donovan saw the blood-soaked sock and the peculiar angle of his golf shoe. He crawled on his hands and knees until he could lean over, and with two hands, ease up William’s pant leg. In the light from the headlights, he saw the whitish bone protruding from William’s sock. Trying to be as delicate as possible, Donovan attempted to examine the wound by widening the hole in the sock. William let out a cry of pain and blindly reached out with his right arm.

  “William, can you hear me?” Shannon said as she put her hand on his cheek. “It’s Shannon and Donovan. We’re here.”

  William tried to talk, but a cough drowned out his words, and he spit out some grass and water.

  “I know about your ankle,” Donovan said. “Can you tell me where else it hurts?”