“Stewart, check your watch!”
He was bewildered by her sudden command and shook his head, confused, “Why?”
“Never mind why—just do it!” The urgency in her tone made no sense, but he checked anyway.
He flicked it a couple of times and then said, “It seems to be broken.”
In vain, Ashlyn tried to make the radio work, “Mark?” There was no answer, and then more frantically she cried, “Mark?” She swallowed hard as panic began to run through her veins.
They felt that odd sensation again. She jumped to her feet and hurriedly headed up the stairs. Stewart knew he was missing something, so he followed her. Because there was a sliver of a moon and the stars were still visible, she had just enough light to feel her way through the rooms and up to the flybridge. Banging her knee on something as she went, she cursed under her breath.
Stewart was trying to follow as fast as he could. He found a flashlight in the pilothouse, but it didn’t work either. When he finally got up to the flybridge, he could see her silhouette against the backdrop of stars. They felt a third miniscule jolt, and far into the distance, a faint glow lit up the sky. There was nothing visible beyond that.
“This flashlight isn’t working either,” he said.
She didn’t reply, apparently not listening, or too engrossed in what she was doing to comment on his statement. She picked up the radio that was on the flybridge and tried again to communicate with Mark.
“Mark!” she nearly screamed it this time.
“Is this what happened the other night?” Stewart asked.
She didn’t answer, but studied the area for any indication of a mist or green glow of any kind but saw none. The ship seemed completely stationary, no slow spinning as before.
“No,” she answered; the hopelessness in her voice was almost palpable.
She and Stewart alternated back and forth, trying to use the radio; though they both knew it was pointless. She began to call out Mark’s name; if he had surfaced, maybe he would hear her. Stewart could hear her hyperventilating.
“Ashlyn, there is no reason to think he’s not okay”—he tried to reassure her—“we can’t reach him because our radios are out, that’s all.” He held her by the shoulders and tried to calm her.
“No, he’s not okay.”
Her certainty prompted the question, “Why are you so sure?”
“Because whatever that was, it caused an EMP,” she pointed to the northwest where they had seen the faint glow.
Stewart stood there thoughtfully for a second before asking, “You mean an electromagnetic pulse?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that could make sense, but what would have caused it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you sure this isn’t the same thing that happened to you guys the other night?”
“I’m sure!”
“So Mark should be fine, all an EMP would do is fry electrical circuits. That’s why our lights went out.”
She studied Stewart, trying to make out his face in the darkness. “Stewart, Mark’s rebreather system is electrical. It’s computerized.”
Finally, Stewart understood. Mark was under somewhere around one hundred feet of water. His breathing system would have stopped working just like all the ship’s systems had.
Stewart was silent and then stated, “Maybe he still has a little air.”
An uneasy silence passed between them before she whispered, “The best we can hope for is a very bad mix of gases.”
Stewart knew she was right; not only did the rebreather scrub the air with an electrical system but also the combination of gases was regulated by a built-in microcomputer. Even if he did manage to get to the surface before he became unconscious, he ran the risk of dying from decompressing too fast. If he managed to overcome those insurmountable odds, he would not be able to find the boat in the total blackness of the night. It was inconceivable that they would be able to find him.
***
Ashlyn stood there, frozen in a nightmare of impossibility, when a thought struck her. She didn’t try to explain it to Stewart or even say she had an idea, she just yelled, “Keep looking for him,” and she ran down the stairs.
In the dark, she ran into another obstacle, she was wearing shorts, and this time it didn’t just hurt. She felt sticky blood running down her bare leg, but she didn’t stop. She made it into the galley and felt around for a box of matches she had seen. At first, she didn’t find it and thought that maybe she had been mistaken, but then her hand made contact with the telltale, rough, striking strip on the side of the box.
She ran back up the stairs, leg dripping blood, through the pilothouse and up onto the flybridge. Barely able to see by the sliver of the moon and the starlight, she ran down the short flight to the motor boat. She had examined the area her first day aboard, planning an escape route in case Dierdra had shown up unexpectedly.
“What are you doing?” Stewart yelled, trying to make sense out of Ashlyn’s deranged behavior, but she didn’t stop to explain.
She pulled up on the tarp covering the boat. Running her hands around the inside, she found the can of diesel fuel.
Stewart repeated himself, “What are you doing?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Better idea than what? I don’t know what you are doing.”
Her plan was dangerous and a long shot at best. It might even end up causing more of a disaster than the one that she was trying to solve. She needed the light to look for Mark and wasn’t sure of how to pull it off without catching the yacht on fire. Worse yet, she might accidentally hit him with diesel fuel.
“Ashlyn”—Stewart screamed—“what are you doing?”
“The diesel will float on the water. The oil in the mix should help it burn longer than gasoline would.”
She climbed over the side of the boat onto the same walkway that they had used to escape Dierdra.
“You are crazy!—” he yelled after her—“You’ll start the ship on fire!”
“Just keep looking for Mark,” Ashlyn commanded without stopping to second-guess herself. She poured a little of the liquid over the side, trying to keep it as far away from the yacht as possible and then threw a lit match. She was literally taking a shot in the dark. She couldn’t even tell where the fuel was and wasn’t sure she could make it combust.
She prayed softly for help and began throwing lit matches. It had taken three before she hit a pocket of gas vapor. She moved as fast as she could from one spot to another, starting small fires. The flames looked eerie floating on the top of the water. She wasn’t sure where the yacht fuel tanks were located and hoped that she would not find out. The hull would probably be safe from the fire, as long as she didn’t accidentally drip the liquid fuel onto it. She had to be extremely careful.
She was on the aft deck, pouring fuel over the port side, when she heard Stewart yell, “I see him—”
“Where is he?”
“—port side, near the bow.”
She practically flew through the double doors, and ran out onto the external walkway, which led to the front of the boat. Reaching the bow, she studied the water. There he was, floating face down.
Not taking a second thought, she dived off the boat and swam to him. She pulled his face out of the water, but it did no good. She couldn’t get the full helmet and face mask off him until she had both hands to use. She swam with all her strength, careful to avoid the flames. Stewart was on the aft deck lower landing waiting to help her get Mark out of the water. While she climbed out, Stewart pulled off Mark’s helmet.
Ashlyn leaned over his limp body and listened for breath sounds. She swallowed hard, and then said, “He’s not breathing.”
Chapter 9
You have rights antecedent to all Earthly governments: rights that
cannot be repealed or restrained by human laws; rights derived from the Great Legislator of the universe. — John Adams
~
; Ashlyn didn’t wait for Stewart to finish removing the rest of the rebreather unit. She began giving Mark mouth to mouth. The full-face mask had prevented fluid from getting into his lungs, but they had no way of knowing how long it had been since he had quit breathing.
Stewart felt for a pulse but found none. He spoke solemnly, “Ashlyn.”
She didn’t stop, this time he was more forceful, “Ashlyn!”
“What!” she yelled. She was exhausted and terrified at the same time.
“He has no pulse.”
She froze only for a second before ordering, “Help me get him up the stairs.”
Just as they reached the aft deck, the power and lights came back on.
She shook her head in amazement, “Can you believe the timing?”
With Mark’s rebreather out of the way, she started chest compressions, and then alternated back and forth with mouth to mouth.
After a moment, she stared at Stewart in disbelief, “Don’t you know CPR?”
“Well, yeah but—” Stewart was just standing there, looking devastated.
She cut him off and demanded, “Help me!”
“Ashlyn, I think it’s too late.”
She glared at him. “Start chest compressions!”
He began counting with each fast compression, “One—two—three.”
Each time he stopped compressions she gave Mark two quick, deep breaths.
More forcefully this time, “Ashlyn, it’s too late.”
She gaped at Stewart furiously, with tears streaming down her face. “Go to hell!” she yelled and pushed him out of the way so she could continue doing compressions. Stewart took over the breathing, and they continued for a few more minutes.
Ashlyn stopped; her energy spent, and just stared at Mark, lying there lifeless.
“Mark”—she screamed at him—“Mark!” She started CPR again, unwilling to give up.
Stewart ran down the stairs to where the emergency kit was kept, and brought it back up with him. He bared Mark’s chest, then pulled open a preloaded syringe of epinephrine. She leaned back while Stewart plunged it straight through Mark’s chest into his aorta.
Ashlyn had already peeled the backing off the first of the two defibrillator-electrodes. She placed one electrode on the right side of his chest, just below the clavicle. The second she placed on the left just below and to the left of the pectoral muscle and then connected the leads to the small automatic defibrillator machine.
She pushed the button and his muscles contracted with the electrical impulse. After three attempts, and what seemed an eternity, Mark took a deep breath and started to cough. Stewart glanced at her, relief washing over him.
The EKG monitor was now showing a strong, steady rhythm. She had no way of knowing whether he had suffered any ill effects from the rapid decompression. She hoped that the advantage of using a rebreather would have lessened the likelihood of the bends because of the oxygen regulation mechanism.
She disconnected the leads from the defibrillator, laid her head on Mark’s chest, and sobbed.
He was still unconscious when Stewart went to make sure that all the fires were out and had done no damage. Her heavy sobbing had lessened to a muffled cry when Mark became aware of his surroundings. Her head was on his chest, and she hadn’t noticed he was awake. He put his hand on her head and stroked her hair once before he ran out of energy. He felt as if he had been beaten by a small army.
She lifted her head and saw that he was watching her. “Mark?” she spoke through her tears. She needed to know he was all right.
Exhausted, he whispered her name, “Ashlyn.”
“How do you feel?” She was worried about the rapid decompression.
“Not quite ready to go dancing, but I think I’m in one piece.”
His attempt at humor flooded her with relief.
“I thought I had lost you.”
The tears were beginning to flow again. He put his arm around her for reassurance.
“I’m okay,” he promised, but when he tried to sit up, he found out that he wasn’t quite ready.
“Just stay here for now. I’ll get you a pillow.”
She started to move, but he held her arm and didn’t release it.
“Stay …please,” he said gently.
She smiled and lay down on the deck next to him. She put her arm across his chest, her face buried against his neck. She wanted to be close enough to hear his every breath.
Stewart returned after a few moments. “I don’t know what happened, but the fires are all out. There is no damage.”
Ashlyn hadn’t been thinking about the fires, but she was relieved anyway.
“Fires”—Mark questioned—“what are you talking about?”
“I’ll tell you later Mark. Right now you need to rest.”
“Hey Ashlyn, look at that,” Stewart exclaimed, pointing up.
She got up and walked out to the edge of the boat where he was standing. The night sky was dancing with brilliant colored lights—another enormous aurora.
“All that light would have been very helpful a while ago,” he said.
“No, kidding,” she agreed.
“What is it?” Mark asked.
“It’s another aurora maybe even brighter than the other one.”
“The sun is going crazy,” he said weakly.
She didn’t want Mark to worry about the EMP. She wasn’t sure what had caused it, but the lights in the sky were strong evidence that it was related to a solar flare or something like that. She would have to talk to him about it when he was feeling better. Tonight, she wanted him to rest and so she changed the subject.
“Let’s get you to bed.”
Stewart helped her propel Mark into a sitting position, and when his dizziness passed, they helped him onto the sofa. He sat there for a few more minutes before announcing that he was ready to try for his room. They helped him out of the wetsuit he had been wearing and into some sweats.
She looked at Stewart‘s pale, bruised face. “Go to bed Stewart, you still need to recover. I will stay with Mark and make sure he is alright.”
“I’m glad you’re safe.” Stewart patted Mark on the shoulder.
“Thanks, it‘s been a rough day for all of us.” Mark responded. He sounded exhausted but smiled weakly.
Stewart went to his room, and Ashlyn lay next to Mark on his large bed, listening to him breathe while he slept. It was hard to believe what a short amount of time had passed since they had experienced the green mist and the apparent time travel. It was only the night before last. So much had happened. Ardently, she prayed the next day would be nothing like the one they had just endured. However, she had a feeling that the last thirty-six hours had only been the start of something much bigger.
***
The faint jolt they had felt had been from a nuclear powered submarine at the South Florida Testing Facility (SFTF) located at the Port Everglades inlet in Fort Lauderdale. The underwater testing area was used for electromagnetic research, among other things. Several malfunctions caused by the electromagnetic pulse and the shaking from the Earthquake had sent the sub headlong into a test mine, which exploded on impact.
The series of events had led to the accidental detonation of one of its onboard ballistic missiles. It had created a fifteen-kiloton blast, instantly vaporizing a mile in circumference and knocking down every building within a three-mile radius of the testing area. It created an enormous wave at the blast site, but as it spread through the ocean, it lessened in intensity. By the time it reached the yacht, it could barely be felt.
All across North America disaster had struck suddenly, and without any significant warning. The first EMP had spread nearly to the west coast, pushing down toward the equator, disabling and destroying almost every civilian electronic device in its path. The power outage made response to the destruction and fires from the earthquake virtually impossible. The devastated cities stretched for hundreds of miles in every direction.
The surge had
blown every transformer and knocked out the entire electric grid. All the electronic transmissions, including cell phones, in the United States, Canada, and Northern Mexico, were abruptly lost. Virtually all electrical systems and devices within the continental U.S. and Canada were destroyed or disabled from the blast of the solar plasma against the torn and weakened magnetosphere.
Government systems, with EMP protection systems built in, had survived the initial shock of the first EMP. However, they didn’t survive the unexpected ferocity of the near simultaneous and unprecedented coronal mass ejection. It had barely skimmed the western hemisphere of the northern pole of the earth. The domino effect took out nearly every electronic device that had been spared. The only exception being certain extremely well protected government communication systems, which were based on satellites that were luckily orbiting near the South Pole when the mass hit.
The coronal mass also took many earth orbiting satellites. So many relay stations were destroyed that the Internet was virtually lost. The loss of power and connection with each other and the outside world crippled the U.S. Government, in spite of its preparations for a possible large-scale electromagnetic pulse. The U.S. was helpless against the ever-spreading series of disasters that ensued.
Within twenty minutes, the Earthquake, EMP, and solar plasma impact had caused such disruption that every aircraft over the U.S. and Canada, large and small alike, experienced complete instrument failure; most could not maintain control of navigation. With no one able to guide them from the towers, many suffered midair collisions and only a few of them managed to land without substantial loss of life.
The number of downed aircrafts totaled well over six thousand and included Air Force One. Most of the planes had pummeled the Earth, like missiles. With not a single enemy weapon fired and in less than one hour, the United States of America had lost its military supremacy over the earth with no hope of reclamation.
The destruction continued unabated as nuclear power along the east coast of Canada, and several in the U.S. faced cooling system failure. One by one, they went critical blanketing the northeast coast with radiation clouds.
Time Storm Shockwave Page 10
