Several crewmen ran to secure the flapping tarp and things calmed down again in the dining room. Hank took a moment to evaluate his new roommates. Romy looked tense, but otherwise in control of herself. Fred, on the other hand, was visibly shaking and casting furtive glances around the room. He caught Hank looking at him and consciously clasped his hands together on the table in front of him, staring back at Hank in what was probably intended to be a defiant posture, but causing Hank to break into a grin.
“It looks like we’ll be spending some time together,” Hank said. “So let’s get to know each other. You two are from California?”
“Yes,” Romy replied. “Santa Barbara. I’m in public relations, and Fred is an executive producer of Hollywood movies. What about you?”
“Hank Donner from Houston, Texas, at your service, Ma’am,” he said, tipping his cowboy hat. “I’m an oilman, and I play a mean hand of poker. Just warning you.”
“I heard that crewman say you were traveling alone?” she said with obvious curiosity. It was uncommon to encounter single passengers on cruises like this one.
“Yeah,” Hank confirmed. “I’m a widower and this was actually a business trip for me. I’ve got some cargo in the hold of this ship intended for a job in the Tasmanian Sea. It sounded like more fun, as well as faster, to take it down there aboard the Sedulity than on a tramp freighter. And it’s looking like an even better choice now. I doubt many container ships survived what we went through last night.”
Romy nodded, but Fred was more nosey. “What kind of cargo?” he asked. Hank considered telling him it was none of his business, but decided to keep things civil for the moment. He’d set Fred straight privately, if his attitude didn’t adjust itself soon.
“A submarine,” Hanks said casually, watching their eyes widen. “I call it the Armadillo.”
“A real submarine?” Romy asked.
“Real enough to dive down to the bottom of all but the deepest trenches in the ocean,” Hank said proudly.
“How many people can it carry?” Fred asked, causing Hank to wonder if Fred was thinking of it as some kind of lifeboat in case the Sedulity sank.
“None,” Hank chuckled. “The Armadillo is an unmanned submersible drone used for deep sea oil exploration, pipeline repairs, wellhead installation, and critical recovery missions. I’ve used it off the coast of Angola, all over the Gulf of Mexico, even the North Sea. This was going to be the first time I used it down under. They found some promising oil deposits in the Tasmanian Sea and I was supposed to help them develop a field. I’m sure this damned asteroid has screwed that plan all to hell.”
“That sounds like an awesome job,” Romy said. “I wouldn’t want to go down inside a submarine, but it sounds exciting to send a robot to the bottom of the sea. Does it have cameras to let you see what’s down there?”
“It sure does,” Hank nodded. “Big floodlights too. They attract all sorts of sea monsters. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve seen down there.”
“Sea monsters!” Fred scoffed. “There’s no such thing.”
“Don’t be so sure, partner,” Hank smiled. “You would’ve said the same thing about a wave that could stand this ship on end, or a downpour of boiling rain, until last night. But when you see a forty foot sea serpent with a head like a horse and a mouth like Dracula on steroids, you’d probably call it a monster too. I sent that video to a scientist at Scripps. He said it was an unknown species. I call it a monster. And Romy’s right. I’m much happier seeing stuff like that from the control console aboard a ship, than being two miles underwater with it.”
Fred looked suitably humbled and held his tongue. Romy smiled. Hank smiled back and asked, “So, Fred, what movies have you produced? Anything I might have seen?”
Fred’s face turned ashen, but Romy said, “Did you see Sand Shark, or Killer Wave on cable? Fred produced both of them.”
Hank couldn’t help but laugh out loud. To think that this wimp had produced low budget horror and disaster videos brought new heights of irony to the current situation. Hank laughed loud and hard, drawing attention from others in the room. The fact that Fred’s face turned from ash to red only increased Hank’s amusement. Still sputtering, he said, “Oh, yeah, I saw them. You produced those? Were they supposed to be comedies?”
“There were elements of comic relief,” Fred said defensively.
“So, how do you think the special effects in Killer Wave compare to the real waves wiping out the world right now?” Hank asked with a grimace. There was no need for an answer to that one. What they had witnessed on TV news overnight had put even the biggest budget disaster movies to shame. Hank shook his head and said, “Sorry, I shouldn’t joke about it. I guess we should all be thankful to be alive today. It looks like a whole bunch of other folks aren’t so lucky.”
“It’s horrible,” Romy said. “And the waves haven’t even reached Santa Barbara yet. Do think it will be as bad some of the other places we’ve seen get hit?” She was clearly terrified and Hank didn’t blame her. There wasn’t much he could say to comfort her either.
“I won’t kid you,” Hank said. “It’ll be bad. But Santa Barbara has a couple things going for it. I did some repairs to an oil rig off that coast a few years back, so I know the area. You’ve got the Channel Islands out there. They should block a good portion of the waves. And you have mountains right behind the city. Even after the earthquakes there should be time for a lot of the population to get to the top of them, even if they have to hike up there. The mountains are a couple thousand feet high, so anyone who climbs them should survive. I wouldn’t bet on many of the homes and buildings below making it through the day though.”
Romy was fighting back tears. Fred was less accepting of fate. “You don’t know that,” he said. “The islands could shelter Santa Barbara completely.”
“Maybe from a direct hit,” Hank commented. “I hope that’s the case. Still, I bet there’ll be a lot of backwash and reflected waves. The Santa Barbara coastline faces south and that’s basically the direction these waves are coming from. But hey, you’re right. I’m no scientist. Santa Barbara might make it through without a scratch.” He didn’t believe that for a second, but saw no reason to dash their hopes completely. They’d learn the truth from watching television over the next few hours.
“Well, now that we know a bit more about each other, and the ship has stopped rocking as much, what do you say we grab some breakfast?” Hank said, changing the topic. “It doesn’t look like a waiter will be coming to serve us, so I’m off to the buffet. I want to get back to the theater before the president makes his next address to the nation. He said he would do that before the waves hit California, so it must be coming up soon.” He set his cowboy hat on the table to reserve it and rose to get in line for chow. The other two followed him, although the conversation had pretty much ruined their appetites.
Chapter 6
The president of the United States was close to having a nervous breakdown. The presidential physician had already given him several mild sedatives to calm his nerves and insisted he wear a biometric monitor under his bulletproof vest. The doctor was concerned that the stress of this global catastrophe could trigger a stroke or heart attack. She couldn’t imagine the mental strain and anguish the president must be suffering in the hours leading up to the certain death and destruction of a significant portion of the nation he was sworn to protect and defend.
The doctor studied the president from across the Oval Office while his advisors surrounded him and the film crew prepared for his next televised address. The presidential physician was always close to the president, even in normal times. Her only job was to keep the president alive and well. She travelled with him on Air Force One and accompanied him to every function, public and private. When the president appeared in public she would stay just outside of any projected kill zone, but close enough to rush to his side in the event of an assassination attempt. Here, inside the White House, she could get close
r, close enough to see the sweat beading on his forehead before the makeup artist wiped it away and applied powder. A glance at her handheld monitor confirmed that his heart rate and blood pressure were elevated and he was breathing more rapidly than normal.
The doctor walked across the room and signaled for the others to move back. Even the Secret Service deferred to her authority. “Mr. President,” she said with a note of concern. “Your vital signs are elevated. How do you feel, Sir?”
The president took a deep breath and gave her a tired smile. “I feel like the sky is falling down on top of me. It doesn’t feel good.”
“I understand, Mr. President,” she nodded and smiled back in sadness. “Though everyone is bordering on shock and despair, the pressure you feel must be enormous. I need you to do the breathing exercise I taught you after the last terrorist attack. Slow, deep breaths. Try to relax, starting with your feet and hands, and then moving slowly up your limbs. Close your eyes and think about a happy memory. I know it’s hard right now, but we all need you calm and collected when you address the nation. I can give you another mild sedative, if necessary, but I think it best if you are clear headed and in full command of your faculties before you appear on television.”
“I know, Doc. Thanks,” the president said. “What I really need is a cigarette.”
“We’ve talked about that, Mr. President,” the doctor said. “Nicotine is a stimulant. It will only further elevate your heart rate and blood pressure.”
“That’s the least of my worries. I’m President of the United States. And, damn it, I want a cigarette. Now! Millions of my constituents are about to die and there is nothing I can do to stop it. The hell with the White House smoking ban! Don’t try to stop me, Doctor. If I keel over, you get to earn your pay.”
Normally the doctor would appeal to higher authority by calling the First Lady, but this was not a normal day. A cigarette might actually help the president get a hold of himself. The mild stimulant of nicotine would probably help him more than a sedative right before going on television. At least it would help to mentally calm his nerves. She nodded and a Secret Service agent magically produced a Marlboro 100 and a Zippo lighter embossed with the Presidential Seal.
*****
Aboard the HMAS Bounder the mood was grim. The rapidly deteriorating weather matched the global situation and Commander Anders’ mood was almost as foul as the weather, until he received another sat-phone call from the Sedulity. The frigate had already located the cruise ship on radar and knew that it had turned away from the impact zone. Anders was actually surprised the Sedulity had gone as close to the point of impact as she had. The Bounder’s weather radar showed a maelstrom forming near the gigantic column of steam.
“Hello, Captain Krystos, this is Commander Anders,” he said when a seaman handed him the phone. “I see you’ve turned about. What are the conditions like there?”
“Gale force winds and ten meter swells heading towards the impact zone, extremely low pressure and falling the closer we got to it. A meteorologist aboard thinks it’s sucking in air from every direction to feed the column of steam,” replied Captain Krystos. “We’ve reversed course and hope to escape the worst of the weather before turning south towards Darwin. We’ll also be transmitting the recorded data from our weather station to whoever wants it.”
“That sounds like the best course of action,” Commander Anders concurred. “We have requests for that data from all over the world. Have you been able to restore satellite internet service yet?”
“We’re working on it, Commander. My technicians think we will have it up again soon. That should also restore internet telephone, email, and Skype service, so it’s a top priority for many of the passengers and crew. I’m sorry that we couldn’t get closer to the point of impact for more weather readings, but we are facing hurricane conditions here.”
“I understand completely, Captain. No worries, mate,” the Australian Commander replied. “We’ve just been told than an American nuclear submarine is moving into position on the other side of the impact zone. They should be able to monitor both surface and sub-surface conditions while remaining shallowly submerged to avoid the bad weather. There are also Australian and American maritime patrol aircraft inbound to measure the atmospheric effects.”
“That is good news,” Captain Krystos said. “The Sedulity is no hurricane hunter. We’ve sustained a lot of damage and I have hundreds of seriously injured passengers and crew that need better medical attention than we can provide aboard ship. I hope your offer of a safe haven in Darwin is still open.”
“Yes, of course it is, Captain,” the Australian answered. “We’ll make our own close approach to the impact zone and then come about to join you. We’re also anxious to secure the samples of ejecta that fell on your ship. I’ll arrange priority air transport from Darwin for some of your samples to labs in the USA and Europe.”
“Excellent,” Captain Krystos said. “Is there any chance of sending some the surviving passengers on those flights? Especially burn victims who are citizens of those countries?”
“I suppose that depends on what aircraft are available, Captain. I’ll certainly suggest the possibility to my superiors. Darwin has a good hospital, though I doubt they are set up to handle as many cases of severe burns as you have reported aboard your ship. I suspect that Darwin will also be receiving injured survivors from other parts of the Australian coastline too. It would probably be best to send some of your casualties to areas less affected by this disaster, if there’s any space on outgoing flights. I’ll make some inquiries.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Captain Krystos said. “We’ll keep you advised of our progress and the weather we encounter. Good luck with your approach to the impact zone. Anything closer than twenty miles from the steam column will put you into hurricane conditions. Sedulity, out.”
Commander Anders hung up the sat-phone and stared out at the torrential downpour driven by wave whipping winds that sprang from nowhere. The weather radar and satellite images on the bridge displays were truly daunting. Dense clouds spewed out from the impact zone and spun off in every direction, forming countless storms that grew stronger by the minute. It was much darker than normal for mid-morning, due to the thick overcast and pounding rain, matching the dark and unspoken thoughts of his crew.
Word had spread quickly about the catastrophic damage inflicted on the Australian coastline by the tsunamis. Since the vast majority of Australians lived within a dozen miles of the ocean, every member of the crew feared for the lives of friends and loved ones. Everyone aboard the Bounder was anxious to turn for home as soon as possible.
Commander Anders was relieved that an American submarine would soon take over the job of monitoring conditions near the impact zone. Those Yanks wouldn’t have to brave the deteriorating weather conditions on the surface and Anders was glad that his ship would be tasked with escorting the Sedulity back towards Australia. He could only imagine what the people aboard that ship had gone through, so close to the impact event, and shuddered to think of the suffering and loss of life. He shook his head grimly with the realization that what transpired on that cruise ship was mild compared to what was happening to millions of others across the globe. The loss of a single human life is a tragedy, the loss of a thousand lives is a catastrophe, but the loss of millions becomes a statistic. The rational human mind is simply incapable of processing that much emotional pain without going insane.
*****
“They won’t let us go up to my suite until later today,” Hank said, returning to the table after conferring with a crewman near the restaurant entrance. “I want to see the news for a while longer anyway. Now that I have some food in my belly, I think I’ll go back to the theater to witness the end of the world. You two coming?”
Romy and Fred exchanged glances and nodded hesitantly. They rose from the table to follow Hank out of the restaurant. None of them were anxious to see the coverage of tsunamis destroying major population center
s in California, especially Romy and Fred, but not knowing what happened to their homes would probably be worse. There was no denying the fascination of watching a disaster unfold on live television. They all remembered seeing the Twin Towers fall, as well as the first days of Shock and Awe during the long war in Iraq. Hank even remembered watching the first air strikes of Desert Storm live on CNN during the first Gulf War. Those historic moments in television news history were all eclipsed by the live images of unprecedented destruction being aired today.
“The president should be making his next speech any time now,” Hank said, setting a fast pace towards the bow. The ship was pitching and rolling with the swells, though not half as disturbingly as before. Many passengers were still lined up to learn if their staterooms were intact. Others were clearly upset upon learning that theirs were not. Members of the crew were explaining that new rooming assignments would be made as soon as an accurate tally of survivors and available berths was completed. Hank was glad that he had gotten to the front of the line before they decided to toss a bunch of old fogies into his suite, and hoped that Romy and Fred were the only ones he’d have to share it with. He wouldn’t mind sharing his bed with Romy, but suspected she would end up on the foldout with Fred. He certainly didn’t plan on offering his king size bed to the displaced couple.
Hank took note of the other passengers in the public areas he walked through. Some were wandering around in a daze. Others had found places to sit down, a difficult proposition when all of the cushioned chairs and couches were soaking wet and loose furniture had been swept away or thrown into tangled piles by the recent floodwaters. There was a palpable sense of confusion and despair drifting among these people. Nothing in their life experience had prepared them to face the disaster that had befallen the Sedulity, let alone the cataclysm still sweeping the shorelines of five continents. Hank could understand their shocked looks of apathy at what appeared to be the end of the world. It reminded him of the stunned looks on the faces of hostages, right before terrorists cut off their heads on internet videos.
Sedulity 2: Aftershock (Sedulity Saga) Page 10
