BAD RAIN: A SCI-FICTION THRILLER

by Michael Mazzarelli

  Janet handed the phone to Jeff to verify the location and they agreed to meet at 11:00. On the way, Janet called Clare to fill her in and rescheduled their meeting to 2:00 p.m.

  Clare was on-site when Janet called, glad the meeting got put off because her team was still collecting dead wild life, water, soil and air samples. They were all in protective suits and gloves with special steel soles on the shoes and she knew it would have been tight trying to finish up to make it back to the Marriott by noon.

  “Maybe I should call the FBI and tell them what we’re doing. What if the alarms on the screen were a small plane or planes being used by terrorists for testing something weird under the cover of a thunderstorm. But then again, should I sound an alarm over what might turn out to be nothing?” Janet said, as she looked at Jeff for some kind of response.

  Jeff smiled, then nodded and said, “Wait a few hours.”

  A few minutes after 11:00, Jeff pulled up behind two airboats parked along Route 192 and got out. Stan was talking to the first driver and, when he saw Jeff, waved and told him to follow. A few miles down the road, the convoy took a right turn onto a dirt road and headed south. Most roads in this section of Osceola County were unpaved because few people lived in this vast, unruly and isolated swampland. About five miles in, the road ended in a circle and it was fairly obvious that you couldn’t go any further unless it was by airboat. Once the two boats were deboarded, Stan and Janet got on one, while Jeff and another FMP officer jumped onto the other.

  Airboats are quite unique, like a helicopter that goes sideways instead of up and down. The huge propeller is located in the back and enclosed by a wire cage to protect anything from hitting the deadly blade. The driver (with nerves of steel) normally sits just in front of this huge fan and the passengers sit in front of the driver. This whole setup is mounted high on a flat-bottom boat, allowing it to skim over water, vegetation and even land. The biggest problem with these boats is the noise. When the motor starts, you better have your protective ear gear on or your ears will be tingling for days. The sound is the same as a single engine propeller airplane revving its engine up and down, while taxing out to a runway for a takeoff. One definitely can’t sneak up on anything using airboats, as the noise can be heard for miles. The FMP uses them only for raids and other incidentals where noise or stealth is not a factor.

  Stan pulled out a map, studied it a bit, looked down at his compass and pushed the throttle forward. After a tremendous roar that could be heard even through the protective ear gear, the boat slowly started to move. Stan led the way with the second one close behind. As they picked up speed, they began heading almost in a straight line, skimming over patches of Lilly pads, small islands, open water and tall reeds. If egrets, coots, blue herons, wood storks or any bird had a say in a court of law, airboats would be outlawed. The boats crushed everything in their path as they skimmed across the nesting place of most of these birds, barely giving them enough notice to fly out of the way.

  After heading south for about five miles and scaring every living thing in the area into a panic flight for life or escape underwater, a strange thing happened. No more birds were flying. Not one.

  Stan began slowing down, then slowed completely, now at a stop along side each other, the passengers looking in awe at the scene before them. There it was again, the virgin with no clothes. An area about three hundred feet wide and as far as they could see in a straight line was stripped of everything. From a distance, it looked as though someone was constructing a small runway. To the right and left, everything was green and normal, but straight down the middle sat naked earth. The whole scene looked like a cartoon.

  With engines off, Janet, Stan, Jeff and the officer from FMP stared in silence for what seemed an eternity. Deep in their hearts, none of them wanted to ever see the scenes from yesterday’s destruction ever again, let alone on a scale ten times the size. Finally, Janet said, “You guys head down one side, we’ll take the other and hopefully meet where it ends.”

  Everyone agreed and the roar of the airboat engines was renewed. Slowly the boats separated and went along the outskirts of the bare earth on each side. For approximately a quarter mile, the scene was the same. Where the “runway” pasted over water, dead fish were floating. Where it touched, floating grass islands only roots just below the water surface could be seen.

  Over land, dead and still dying wild life were scattered all over the vegetation-stripped earth. In one section they came across an eight-foot dead alligator. As the boats came to the end of the so-called “runway,” they turned in toward each other and shut the engines off. They were now completely on the other side of the destruction and looking back. It looked as though someone had started building a runway. The bulldozer crews had started where the airboats first discovered the open soil and cut a quarter mile strip three hundred feet wide.

  Janet said, “Jeff, this looks like a tornado touched down and ripped up everything then just lifted away.”

  “I know it looks that way, but the destruction is too complete, too final. A tornado wouldn’t strip the land so completely, and besides, there would be debris scattered all over.

  “Let’s get a few soil samples and bring them back to Clare. This looks like whatever caused yesterday’s devastation did the same here. God help us if this continues. Let’s hurry with the samples and get out of here.”

  When the airboats reached docking, Janet, Stan and Jeff got into Jeff’s car to make the 2:00 p.m. meeting at the Marriott. Stan had left instructions with his people to secure the area and not allow anyone in. At this point, it was pretty much agreed that to blow the whistle to the feds would put everyone out of the loop and, besides, the EPA was involved in the day-to-day events anyway, so it was not really a usurping of power. Still, if things got much worse, they would have no choice but to notify the Department of the Interior who would, without question, turn on the FBI as a matter of course. But so far they had the luxury of calling their own shots.

  As they headed to the airport, all three were quiet, still somewhat shocked over what they just saw, which was now becoming an enlarging problem. Janet was first to break the silence. “There must be some connection with the white dots picked up at OIA and both areas of destruction. The only logical connection I can make is the radar picked up a small plane that was too high only long enough to be picked up for one sweep. It’s either terrorists testing some biological, chemical or otherwise corrosive cocktail or a plane with something badly wrong with it.

  Jeff responded, “That makes sense, a small plane in a thunderstorm trying to stay under radar could easily be bounced around and up high enough, induced by severe updrafts, to be picked up by radar. But that’s almost suicidal to fly a small plane in a thunderstorm, and why would anyone take that kind of risk when they could accomplish the same thing during the day at some other time than a deathtrap. This area has thousands of square miles of total isolated land and swamp, where no one would notice what a small plane was doing in broad daylight, and to go down might be to end it all, with no chance of even being discovered by those looking for you, let alone anyone else.”

  Stan added, “Jeff’s right, there are areas out there where man has yet to venture, by airboat, even helicopter for that matter. So why risk thunderstorms to top it off?”

  Silence fell on everyone listening. Janet then looked at Jeff and uttered, “They need the rain!”

  3

  JUST BEFORE 2:00 P.M. THEY ARRIVED AT JANET’S room, where they met Clare and Al talking quietly in the hallway. Once inside, everyone grabbed a soda or water and sat down around the conference table. It had been a long morning and they hadn’t stopped for lunch, so the liquids would have to do for now. Janet filled them in on events of the morning and the discovery of the new site.

  Everyone wanted to know if Clare had anything on what was causing the devastation. “We took samples of everything possible, even leaves, and our people are back at the laboratory doing all the testing they can think of, t
hen some. We’re not going to have any results until tomorrow and I wouldn’t try and guess at this point what caused that mess. Al’s testing of the soil is a day ahead of ours. I’ll let him tell you what he found.”

  “The soil definitely was saturated with some form of chemical corrosive,” he said, “but it’s currently dormant. All testing so far indicates the soil has traces of what I believe are hydrochloric and sulfuric acids, but the molecular structure is not the same and definitely not like anything I’ve seen before. The bacteria are unknown and also dormant. I’m using small samples of the soil on grass, plants and even laboratory rats to see if either the chemical or bacteria or combination of both causes a reaction, seems they did their damage then went into a dormant stage, if you can believe that.”

  Janet asked, “Do me a favor and try water on the tests with the soil and see if anything happens. Meanwhile, I’m going to inform the FBI, at least they can start doing some research on any local radical or terrorist groups while Clare’s people can continue to run tests on the sites. I’ll also call Harry at Orlando International Airport (OIA) and ask him if he gets another alarm to call me right away. God forbid this happens again, I’ll call everyone right away. Otherwise, let’s meet again tomorrow at noon, right here. By that time maybe Clare or Al’s people will have something.”

  As soon as everyone left, Janet placed a call to Harry at OIA and described what they had found on the ground after the two mystery dots showed up on the screens and rang his alarms. She requested two things, first, review the tapes and records for any other erroneous alarms that no one thought important and, second, no matter if he be on duty or someone else, call if another alarm comes across, no matter what time. Harry expressed his concern on what she found and said he would get as many people on it as possible.

  Brad Balder was the assistant director of the FBI, whom Janet knew because her job sometimes required assistance and he was the one who got it accomplished no matter how complicated the request. What could be more pressing than the current dilemma and so Janet made the call. She didn’t pretend to understand how the FBI delegated their resources nor did she care, simply taking her time to explain everything in detail to enable the appropriate decision. Brad said he would do some preliminary investigating from Washington, but would have two agents there at the scheduled noon meeting.

  The next call went to her supervisor, describing in detail what had happened, stressing that although this was not yet a FEMA problem had it happened over a populated area she didn’t even want to think what kind of disaster it would be classified. Her supervisor agreed and said to stay there until new information was received, but to keep her informed.

  It was now about 5:00 p.m. and supper time was weighing on them both. Jeff asked, “About ready to eat?” Janet’s means of transportation, Jeff had stayed after the meeting while everyone else headed out to do their jobs.

  “Yeah, I’ve made all necessary calls, and it’s a waiting game now. Everyone has my cell number, so eating sounds great. Wish we could just go to a bar and have a few drinks. After what I saw today, I could use something to blur my mind but suppose we should stay alert.”

  She didn’t want to go anywhere fancy and wasn’t super hungry, so Jeff decided to take her to Friday’s located near the airport on Route 436. He noticed off in the distance familiar thunderstorm clouds building with massive anvil tops, sucking all the air in the area into tremendous updrafts and wringing every drop of moisture into huge holding cells, waiting for just the right moment to unleash deadly lightning in all directions and deluging everything below with millions of gallons of storm water. Because Florida is so flat, highways are one of the highest points and can provide clear, unobstructed views in all directions. This was one of the reasons Jeff loved to photograph thunderstorms, clouds and lightning, but also small rainbows high up in the clouds miles from the storm and clear blue skies in the opposite direction. To the nature enthusiast and pure photographer, the Florida clouds were a thing of beauty, to watch and dream about.

  They made it to Friday’s just as the sky turned coal-miner black and the winds picked up. Once inside the evident safety of this casual but quite unique franchise eatery, a sense of security overcame them. The blackness of a severe oncoming thunderstorm can unnerve anyone and as the hostess led them to a table for two in the non-smoking section, both felt relieved to be inside with the comfort of others.

  They both ordered soup and salad, then split a grilled Cajun chicken sandwich. While waiting for the meal, Jeff noticed that Janet was in deep, disconcerting thought, her pretty eyes looking tired and depressed. He wanted to get up and sit next to her and put his arms around her in consoling fashion, but it was obvious she was reviewing the past two days events and wondering what would come next. He interrupted her thoughts and said, “If the FBI gets involved, will they take over everything and take us out of the picture?”

  Janet replied, “God only knows what will happen when they get a nod. As strange as this case is, they might know something we don’t and shut us all out. Then again, you saw the devastation and how it affected the wild life. Can you imagine the panic if that happened in a populated area? FEMA would definitely have to be involved, so I don’t think they’ll pull me off this until we have a solution and know it’s not going to happen again. No matter what happens, I’ll request they allow you to stay on and continue to work with me. You started this and you know the area, besides I enjoy your company.” She smiled and pushed her hand across the table and placed it on his. He wanted to give her an affectionate soft squeeze, but the meal arrived.

  Jeff’s cell phone rang just as he polished off his chicken sandwich. It was his friend, Sharon, another meteorologist at his work place. She often called when he was not at work to alert him if a severe thunderstorm was in the area. Jeff had so requested the courtesy because of his lightning-chasing hobby with Al. It gave him time to call Al and let him know where they should meet if he could get away. When Sharon gave Jeff the location, direction, speed and lightning hits of the storm, he wrote them down on his table napkin and thanked her. Sharon added, “Jeff, be careful with this giant, I show two hundred lightning strikes registered already and it’s still growing. Don’t get too close— I don’t want to have to get up early and cover for you on the morning news because you did something stupid.”

  Jeff smiled and hung up, thought for a second, then said to Janet, “How would you like to go on a storm chase with me? I’m sure it will take your mind off what has been happening around here. If we’re needed, we both have our cell phones. What do you say?”

  Janet’s eyes widened and she said with a smile, “I’d love to, as long as you don’t make me stand in the storm with a tire iron in my hand to attract a lightning strike so you can take pictures.”

  Jeff replied with a smile, “Trust me, you won’t need a tire iron!”

  Al was at home and agreed to meet them at the Seven/Eleven on Route 15 at 9:00 p.m., just off the Beeline Expressway. When Al arrived, Jeff told him not to worry about moving the equipment into one vehicle because they were only going down Route 15 a short distance and they could follow each other.

  As they pulled out of the convenience store parking lot, they could see flashes of lightning off to the south. About four miles down the road, Jeff took a right onto the only side road for miles. Half a mile in, they pulled off the dirt road very close to a wide-open field. This would give them the opportunity to see in all directions. Once stopped, Jeff told Janet to wait in the car while he and Al made some preparations.

  Over the years, Jeff and Al had refined their method of setting up, always trying to get to the darkest spot to reduce the glow of the city or streetlights, thus getting optimum conditions. The first thing they did was put on infrared goggles. Back in the old days, they tripped and fell over everything. With the infrared, they had “night vision” and could set up the cameras and meters in an isolated field without tripping over ant hills, cow chips, branches and stumps. It also
helped in setting up the equipment properly.

  Jeff set up two cameras, one a digital video recorder the station let him use, the other an automatic Sony 50 mm, 30 frames a minute, wide angle lens. Al had a special meter attached to a steel pole. If lucky, a lightning bolt would strike the pole and he would get a reading. This whole process was extremely dangerous because, although the storm was miles away, lightning could still strike well away from any center mark, putting them at risk of being struck while setting up the equipment. Considered by many to be crazy, Jeff and Al felt emotional highs from such encounters in ways other people could never understand. In the right spot at the right time, you could actually see a thunderstorm form and build. At first the high cumulus clouds look like huge cotton balls, floating in air, and as these clouds suck more and more moisture into them, they begin to turn dark at the bottom and grow to thirty thousand feet, sometimes more, where they encounter the stratosphere layer of the atmosphere. At this level the storm head does not elevate any higher, instead spreading out into an anvil shape formation. The more moisture available to the storm, the wider and darker it gets, always a clue to potential strength. If still daylight, the huge dark mass can be seen coming toward you. If the observer finds himself in an open area, the sky above can provide a backdrop for the massive movement of the blackness slowly approaching from afar. The thunder produced from lightning a long way off can sound like muffling by a huge pillow, but as the storm comes nearer the sound grows more distinct and sharp. As such, during daylight, you can see which direction the storm is heading, but at night, the sounds of the thunder are the only clue as to direction.