“We don’t have a great deal of time,” Lauren said to Joshua. “Can you please roll the tape?”
“Sure.” Joshua reached for a switch on the panel and pressed a button.
Lauren moved closer as a destroyed yacht materialized on the small screen. Her eyes danced around furiously as she tried to take in every detail. As the image stabilized, the camera angle panned right to left along the superstructure of the boat when in the upper left-hand part of the screen, a blurred object shot into the frame. Moments later, the camera swung to the left revealing a man waving his arms. Lauren’s breath caught in her chest and then the screen went black.
“Can you play it again and freeze the final image?” Lauren refused to look at the others as she exhaled slowly and tried to ignore the blood vessel pounding in her neck. Three more times she watched the scene unfold, and each time she tried with every fiber of hope to convince herself that the man was her husband, but she couldn’t. There looked to be someone in the passenger seat of the truck, but the glare from the sun washed them out. Lauren turned to Michael and Montero. “I honestly don’t know. The man is standing in the long shadow cast by the helicopter. Khaki pants, a dark-colored shirt that I can’t tell if it’s black, dark green, or navy blue. Then there’s the leather jacket, which I don’t recognize at all and makes him look larger than Donovan.”
“I know what you’re saying,” Michael said. “But what was your gut instinct the first time you saw the tape?”
“Same as you,” Lauren said as she shrugged. “Though, I was anticipating it being Donovan, so I’m not sure that proves anything.”
“Montero,” Michael said. “What do you think? Is there a definitive answer here?”
“No,” Montero said. “We all know how unreliable an eyewitness is at the scene of a crime or an accident. We see the man on the tape for less than three seconds, and none of us can identify him as Donovan. In fact, as Lauren pointed out, if we look at the truck and the jacket, there’s more evidence that it’s not Donovan.”
“If I had to make a decision based on this, I’d say no,” Lauren said. “What it does tell me, though, is that there are survivors out there.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SHANNON SLOWED WHEN the Spanish-style clubhouse came into sight. She leaned out the open side window toward Donovan. “Where do you want me to go?”
“I have an idea. Go around front to the parking lot,” Donovan said as he tried to determine what condition the building was in. He kept one hand under William’s head as a cushion while Shannon rounded the 18th green and pulled onto the pavement. She swung the Ford into an arc and stopped with the truck’s high beams aimed at the front door. “I’m thinking we go in and find some pillows and blankets, maybe some bottled water to make things more comfortable for William.”
“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” Shannon called out as she slipped out of the cab, jogged up to the door, and pushed inside. Donovan was startled when she came out moments later holding something in her arms and running as fast as she could.
“There’s a gas leak—it smells like rotten eggs in there.” She called out as she tossed Donovan a large section of heavy material and scrambled back behind the wheel and drove away.
Donovan spotted the hooks that ran along one edge of the fabric and realized that Shannon had walked in, smelled gas, yanked down the closest set of drapes, and ran. He did his best to cover William, if nothing else to try to protect him from the wind swirling through the bed of the pickup. As Shannon approached 17 Mile Drive, he tapped on the rear glass and signaled her to turn right. As she swung out and accelerated, he focused on the rough ride, and how to keep William stable. As she negotiated each curve, Donovan swore under his breath and knew that this was a bad idea. They needed to stop someplace safe and reassess how best to care for William.
“Shannon,” Donovan called out and motioned for her to stop the truck.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“This isn’t working. We’re both getting thrown around back here.” As he spoke, he spotted several points of light on the hill above the road.
Shannon turned as well and saw what Donovan had seen. “Houses with lights. Not everyone evacuated.”
“Make the next left turn and drive up the hill. The first house we come to with electricity, pull in the driveway, and honk the horn.”
Donovan felt them climbing and was relieved the road didn’t have as many sharp curves as 17 Mile Drive. He felt Shannon slow and then make a right turn. With his limited view out of the front of the truck, Donovan saw what he guessed was her destination. A house, all lit up, sat just ahead. She made the turn into the driveway and pulled up to the massive front door. Twin matching chandeliers hung down from the towering eaves that protected visitors from inclement weather. Shannon blew the horn on the truck and then switched off the engine.
Donovan looked around to see if anyone was responding to their arrival.
“The day is starting to look up,” Shannon said as she stepped out of the truck and stood for a moment, as if taking in the entire dwelling. “Wow.”
“Check the door and see if it’s locked,” Donovan said as he lowered himself out of the bed of the truck.
Shannon pushed and pulled on the handle, as well as rang the doorbell, which triggered a chorus of bells inside. “I don’t think anyone is home. Which window do we break?”
Donovan grabbed the pry bar he’d taken from the body shop and followed a brick sidewalk around the garage, through a gate, until it finally spilled out onto a massive patio. A swimming pool glistened blue from underwater lights, and somewhere on the treed property Donovan heard the muffled roar of a generator.
Shannon walked to a large sliding glass door and peered inside. “I don’t see a soul.”
He gripped the pry bar and using the flattened end punched a hole in the glass. He repeated the process until he could reach in and unlock the door, sliding it open effortlessly. He listened for an alarm, but there was only silence. Even if there was a silent alarm, no one was going to respond.
They stepped inside and Donovan worked his way through the house to the entryway foyer where he unlocked the double doors and hurried down the steps to the F-250. Donovan climbed into the bed of the truck, set the pry bar aside, and kneeled next to William.
“What if we find a mattress and pulled it down here for him to ride on,” Shannon asked. “Would that work?”
“I thought about that, but even if we make it to a hospital, I’m afraid it would be evacuated. Then we’ve gained nothing.”
“Do you have any idea how far away the nearest hospital is?”
“I remember seeing signs on the highway when we came back from dinner last night in Carmel.” Donovan, as he’d done for twenty-five years, lied and was vague about anything having to do with his past as Robert Huntington. In reality, he knew exactly where the closest hospital was located.
“What are you saying?” Shannon asked. “That we stop here and wait for help to arrive? That’ll be tomorrow at the earliest.”
“No, I’m saying we stop here for now, quit beating William up in the back of a pickup truck, and I go and see if I can find help. I’ll try to get to the hospital. If anyone’s there, I’ll come back with help or an ambulance.”
“That makes sense,” Shannon said. “What if we move him to one of the chaise lounges from the pool area? We could roll him inside. It has an adjustable back, and wheels. We could clean him up, keep a closer eye on him, and he’d be much more comfortable.”
“Great idea,” Donovan said. “It would almost be like a gurney.”
“I’ll go get one.” Shannon hurried down the sidewalk and vanished in the darkness as she headed for the pool.
Donovan put his palm on William’s forehead, and it reminded him of when he was a teenager, just after his parents died, and he went to live with William. It had been a hard time for Donovan. He missed his parents horribly, and he often felt abandoned, cast aside. When he was sick,
William always took great care of him, and even if he didn’t have a fever, the feel of his hand was always reassuring, and made him feel protected.
Donovan had William to thank for so much, and what Donovan needed more than anything was to make sure he did everything in his power to make sure William survived. He heard the squeaky wheels of the chaise lounge as Shannon came into view, pushing it around the corner of the house toward the truck.
“We’re going to get you off this metal onto some cushions,” Donovan explained. Together, using the drapes as a combination hammock and stretcher, he and Shannon were able to slide William to the tailgate, and then Donovan gently lowered him onto the chaise lounge. A long groan slipped from William’s lips as Shannon stabilized his shattered ankle and arranged his injured elbow onto his chest. Donovan covered him with the curtain and together he and Shannon wheeled him around to the back of the house. With William supported by the cushions, it was a simple task to pull the wheeled chaise up the steps into the kitchen.
In the bright light, Donovan winced at the scratches on William’s face and hands. The inside of his wrists especially were rubbed raw from his efforts to hold on to the tree trunk to keep from being swept away. The golf towel wrapped around his ankle was almost completely saturated with blood and needed to be replaced.
“I’m going to go see if I can find a first-aid kit,” Shannon said as Donovan continued to examine William’s wounds.
“A proper blanket and some pillows would be good as well,” Donovan said to Shannon as he spotted a butcher block on the counter holding a pair of scissors among the knives. “Hand me those scissors, will you? I need to get a look at his elbow.”
Shannon passed them to Donovan. “Do you need me to stay for this?”
“I’ve got it,” Donovan said as he snipped a small opening in William’s pullover.
“I’ll be back as fast as I can.” Shannon started to leave, hesitated, turned, and waited until Donovan looked up at her. “Earlier, I’m sorry about my, you know, meltdown. It won’t happen again. I was just caught off-guard, and a little overwhelmed.”
“You’re human,” Donovan said. “As long as you keep getting up and pushing forward, you and I are fine.”
“Thank you,” Shannon said, then turned and walked from the room.
Donovan focused his attention on William and was surprised to find that he seemed to be squinting against the light, trying to comprehend his surroundings.
“William,” Donovan said. “How are you doing?”
“Oh God, it hurts,” William said quietly, straining to form the words.
“We’re going to get you comfortable, okay? Do you want something to drink?”
William nodded.
Donovan eyed a bottle of water in the nearly empty refrigerator, twisted off the cap, knelt, and helped William take a sip. When he’d had enough, Donovan set the bottle aside and picked up the scissors to continue cutting William’s sweater at the elbow.
“This is my favorite Argyle sweater,” William managed to whisper.
“I’ll buy you a new one,” Donovan said as he opened enough material to finally expose William’s broken elbow.
“What do you see?”
“Your elbow is definitely swollen, so it could very well be broken. I’m going to leave it the way it is until someone can take an X-ray.”
“I gather we can’t call 911?” William managed to say as he closed his eyes.
“Oh, we can call, there’s just nobody at the other end.” Donovan pulled the curtain up over William’s arms to keep him warm.
“How bad is it out there?” William asked.
“There are fires burning in Pacific Grove, Monterey, and Pebble Beach. All of the power is out, no cell phones or landlines, no emergency vehicles. We caught part of a radio broadcast about evacuation routes. I think between the tsunami and the fires, the entire area has been evacuated.”
“What about Lauren and the others?”
“I have no idea,” Donovan said. “I’m assuming they diverted somewhere safe and are stuck on the ground. It’s dark outside, plus the smoke and fires would make it difficult, if not impossible, for Janie to fly any kind of search-and-rescue mission. They also don’t have any idea where we are, so, for the moment, we’ll have to orchestrate our own rescue.”
“I heard you talking to Shannon,” William said. “Is she okay?”
“She’s a little rattled, but she’ll be fine. It’s been a tough day. My immediate concern is you. We don’t know if the area hospitals are open or have already been evacuated. Driving from point A to point B has proved problematic with all the fires. Plus, bouncing you around in the back of a pickup isn’t doing you any good. My thinking is to wait here until I can venture out and find help. Best scenario is that I’ll bring the right people back here to help you. If I can’t, I’ll come back, and we’ll wait it out until morning. Once the sun comes up, someone will find us.”
“Okay, I found a few things,” Shannon called out as she bounded into the kitchen with her hands full. “Not much in the way of first-aid supplies. This house is virtually empty of personal items, but there were lots of towels, blankets, and pillowcases. I figure we can improvise some bandages, and maybe make William a sling for his elbow.”
“Good work.” Donovan took a stack of towels and set them down on the chaise lounge near William’s feet.
“William, you’re awake,” Shannon said with more than a trace of surprise in her voice as she knelt down next to him. “How do you feel?”
“Not great. I do need to thank you for helping find me.”
The sky outside flickered as bright as daylight, and Shannon visibly jumped as explosions rumbled and echoed through the hills. By the time Donovan reached the window, the last of the meteors were breaking up and had vanished below the tops of the trees.
“How close?” Shannon asked as her body trembled.
“Not close at all,” Donovan said to Shannon. “Those meteors impacted far out to sea. Why don’t we focus on getting William as comfortable as possible, and then we’ll talk about making a run for the nearest hospital.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LAUREN STEPPED OUT of the close quarters inside the news van and took a few moments to take in some fresh air. She was angry with herself that she’d put so much faith in the man in the video being Donovan. She’d allowed her hopes to soar, when in fact, she knew better than to start on that particular roller-coaster ride.
Having collected herself, Lauren hurried back inside the Jet Center. As she neared the conference room, she heard what sounded like angry raised voices. She pushed open the door, and Ernie, plus three other men, stopped talking.
“Dr. McKenna,” Ernie said. “Welcome back. You’re just in time to hear what FEMA has in mind, as well as the US Forest Service.”
An older, stocky man with short gray hair came toward Lauren, and held out his hand. “Dr. McKenna, I’m Joseph Guerra. I’m with FEMA. I’ve heard a great deal about you over the years. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”
“Mr. Guerra, thank you.” She shook Guerra’s outstretched hand and then waved at the others.
“I’m James Reston,” said a tall man who stood where he was and raised his hand in greeting. “I’m with the United States Forest Service.”
“Mr. Reston,” Lauren said and returned his wave.
“I’m Paul Frantz, Monterey County Emergency Services,” said the third.
“Mr. Frantz,” Lauren replied as she took stock. Of all the men, Guerra had his tie knotted firmly, his shirt crisp with razor-sharp creases. A good four inches shorter than anyone else in the room, Guerra’s body language seemed poised to push his agenda.
“Please, join us,” Ernie said. “We were having a bit of a disagreement about the proper course of action.”
She went to the table. There was a map of Monterey County, and next to it was the infrared image Lauren had dropped off earlier. “Okay. What’s going on?”
“We
at FEMA were considering the best place to set up an evacuee center,” Guerra said. “Salinas is the logical choice, but I’m being told I’m getting in the way.”
Ernie jumped into the conversation. “An urban fire of this magnitude is virtually impossible to stop. I’m not sure we can stop it from reaching Salinas—there’s simply too much fuel from the extended drought combined with all of the man-made accelerants. I don’t want to have to try to evacuate those people yet again.”
“Mr. Frantz,” Lauren said before Guerra from FEMA could start talking, “I represent the military interests in the area, and from what I’ve seen already, the governor will, if he hasn’t already, request the National Guard to be called up to help fight the fire. Keeping that in mind, in terms of logistics, what’s the current state of emergency services in the Monterey Peninsula? How many people have been evacuated, and where can we put these people so they’re not in the way?”
“We believe that the cities of Carmel, Carmel Valley, Pebble Beach, Pacific Grove, Monterey, and Seaside at this moment are nearly ninety percent evacuated. I can confirm that all hospitals, nursing homes, and assisted-living communities have been evacuated, as have all of the detention centers and jails. Traffic on Route 68, where we’ve focused all of our efforts to keep open, has dropped considerably in the last hour. If it were my decision, the evacuees should be moved another thirty miles north of Salinas, so as not to interfere with the logistics of Cal Fire, the military, or the Forest Service.”
“What’s the status of the firefighting efforts?” Lauren directed her question at Ernie, as well as Reston, with the Forest Service.
“Our firefighters aren’t making a dent in this fire. It’s too dangerous, and we’ve pulled back. We’re waiting for more reinforcements from the Forest Service. The aircraft can’t fight fires at night, so we’re preparing for a big push at sunrise,” Ernie said.
“Reinforcements being?” Lauren asked.
“We’re assembling all available aerial tankers to start a systematic pattern of fire retardant disbursement in key areas starting at first light,” Reston said. “We’ll have five very heavy tankers at our disposal. They’ll be operating out of Sacramento.”
Speed the Dawn Page 10
