Sedulity 2: Aftershock (Sedulity Saga)

by David Forsyth

  “I’d better get back to the weather instruments,” Kevin said. “First I want to check on Emily and Amanda.” He excused himself and went to join his family in the former staff captain’s suite. He found them in the matching dayroom on the opposite side of the bridge where the Farnsworths had taken residence and Mrs. Farnsworth had been keeping Emily until Amanda returned. All three were now sitting on the couch in front of the television, but it had been turned off and the two women were engaging Emily in a game of patty-cake.

  “Did you see what happened?” Kevin asked Amanda.

  “Yes.” She raised a finger to her lips indicating not talk about it in front of Emily. Kevin nodded and moved towards the door to their connecting bedroom. “Wait,” Amanda said. “I put an injured woman in our bed to rest until they find a room for her. She’s exhausted and she lost her husband last night. They were on their honeymoon.”

  “Oh, that’s awful,” Kevin said, turning away from the door. “Well, I only wanted to check in on you. There will be news about what’s happening at home soon.” He was careful how he worded it in front of their daughter, but she caught on fast for a three year old.

  “Is everything okay at home, Daddy?” Emily asked innocently. “Did the sky fall there too?”

  “No, pumpkin,” Kevin said. “The sky didn’t fall on our house, but there will be some big waves at the beach near there. You know how Daddy has to know all about the weather for his job, right? So I have to go back to work now.” He bent down to kiss her cheek and ruffle her hair. “You play with Mrs. Farnsworth for a minute while I talk to Mommy. Okay?”

  “Okay, Daddy,” Emily laughed as Mrs. Farnsworth clapped her hands and held them out for Emily to smack. Amanda followed Kevin out to the corridor.

  “We saw the president collapse,” she said as soon as the door closed. “Oh, Kevin, what’s happening? It feels like the end of the world.”

  “Close enough,” he admitted. “And it’ll get worse before it gets better. I’m not sure if the president is dead, or just incapacitated, but that’s the least of our worries. The tsunamis are only minutes away from San Diego now. Then they’ll roll up the coast. The earthquake damage at home looked horrible, but this will be infinitely worse. Everything we knew and loved back home will be swept away during the next hour.” Kevin grasped her shoulders and pulled her into a tight embrace. “You don’t have to watch it. You can stay with Emily, but I have to see what happens. I have to know if there’s anything left for us to go home to.”

  Amanda was crying when she said, “I know you do. You’re right, I don’t want to see it happen. I don’t even want you to tell me about it. I don’t think I’m strong enough for that.”

  “You’re stronger than you think, baby. We’ll get through this just fine. You’ll see. Hell, we’re already the closest survivors to the point of impact. And we have a safe harbor to go to in Australia. We’ll be fine. I don’t want you to worry too much. Just take care of Emily. I’ll only tell you what I think you need to know about what happens back home. Okay?”

  Amanda nodded into his shoulder and he kissed the top of her head. They clung to each other for another few moments before she pulled back to wipe her eyes, offered the hint of a smile, and returned to Emily. Kevin hardened his emotions while walking back to the captain’s dayroom to await the next stage of the disaster.

  *****

  Armando had never felt so much pain. The doctor had given him painkillers, but they simply dulled the screaming nerve endings beneath his burned skin. The pain had become much more intense overnight. He never could have done any of the things he did after the asteroid strike, if he had felt like this. The doctor explained that adrenaline and endorphins were pumping throughout his body during the crisis, numbing the initial pain of his burns. It was only after he gave his body time to rest and recover that it tortured him.

  The doctor had agreed to let Armando return to his quarters, opening space for another injured passenger in the treatment room. Mrs. Krystos had escorted him down to his bunk, clearly worried that he was leaving the med center before he should. She tried to give him comfort and encouragement, assuring him that she would send food, water, and fresh bandages to him. He thanked her sincerely as she helped him climb gingerly into his bunk.

  Armando’s cabin had suffered partial flooding, with watermarks at waist level, but his upper bunk was dry and still perfectly made up when he arrived. There was no sign of the three other crewmen who shared the cabin; Armando hoped that was a good sign. Every able bodied crewman was on double shifts in the wake of this disaster, so there was a good chance his cabin-mates were working instead of injured, missing, or dead. In any event, there was no sense in dwelling on the possibilities now. He was far too emotionally drained to take on any more worries.

  The impact of the tsunamis on the Philippines had crushed more than a nation. It had broken Armando’s spirit at the instant it wiped out his home and family. He knew there was no chance of them surviving that mountain of water, even if they had succeeded in going out to sea on the old Panga pump boat. The loss of his loved ones drove the pain from his burns deeper into his tortured body, drawing tears from eyes missing lashes and brows. The smell of burned hair and the sickly sweet odor of burned flesh had followed him from the med center, adding to the atmosphere of despair in his cabin. Nevertheless, Armando had promised his father that he would survive to carry on the memory and honor of his family. He would endure this misery and do his utmost to make them proud, hoping they were looking down from heaven.

  Armando’s pain and grief were interrupted by a knock at the cabin door. “Come in,” he croaked through a throat made horse by the smoke and heat of the previous night.

  “Armando?” a timid voice called as the door opened a crack. “Are you here?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me, Phong,” the visitor said. “Can I come in?”

  “Sure. If you can stand the smell of my burned body.”

  “You smell better than the rest of the ship,” Phong said as he came inside, closing the door behind him. “You wouldn’t believe the mess upstairs! All my beautiful veranda staterooms destroyed.” He sounded heartbroken. Armando knew how much pride the cabin steward took in maintaining those luxury rooms. The blast wave and tsunamis must have gutted them.

  “I can imagine,” Armando said. “I saw enough of the destruction while getting these burns.”

  “Of course,” Phong said while bowing his head. “You must have seen much worse. I only see rooms after fire and flooding. I found a dead body in one of my staterooms. All burned up, but might have drowned to death. It was horrible.”

  “I’m sure,” Armando said. “So why are you here, Phong? Do you need something?”

  “Oh, so sorry to disturb you, my friend,” the Taiwanese steward said. “I need advice. Someone to talk to. Some of the crew talk about making trouble. You must not tell anyone I say this.”

  “What?” Armando turned to focus on Phong. “What kind of trouble?”

  “You must promise not tell anyone I told you this. They will hurt me. You too. Maybe even kill us!”

  “What?!” Armando actually tried to sit up, until the pain gripped him. He couldn’t imagine anything Phong could say that would put them in danger from the rest of the crew, but he had to know. “Okay, Phong, I promise to keep your secret. What’s going on?”

  “You know the captain is sailing west now, but he plans to turn south towards Australia when we get past this storm, yes?” Phong said, looking back to make sure the door was closed.

  “Yes,” Armando confirmed. “I heard someone say that we will go to Darwin.”

  “That’s right,” Phong agreed and lowered his voice. “Many of the crew are from Indonesia, the Philippines, Thailand, Taiwan, and other countries in Asia.” He looked Armando in the eye. “They want to go home. They talk about going on strike or even taking over the ship to force the captain to take them home.”

 
“Mutiny?” Armando whispered. “They talk of mutiny?”

  “Yes,” Phong nodded. “We all fear for our families. Most of us lived close to the ocean. That’s one reason we went to sea. Now we want to go see if our families need help. Some of the crew are willing to do anything. I want to go see my family too, but I do not like their ideas of how to get there. What should I do, Armando?”

  Armando was speechless for several seconds. He could relate to Phong’s concerns, and those of the other crewmen. He might have felt same way, indeed did feel the same way, but had seized the chance to make final contact with his own family, make some sort of peace, and come to the realization that they were now gone and there was nothing he could do to save them, or any way to turn back the tides of time. Armando’s pain, both physical and emotional, was intense, but his moral compass remained firmly fixed on his duty to honor himself and his family.

  “Find out as much as you can about their plans,” Armando said. “Don’t do anything to make yourself part of their plot. They must be stopped. The truth is that all our families are probably dead already, or will be soon. All we have left is this ship, our duties, and our honor.”

  “How can you say this?” Phong asked in apparent shock.

  “I spoke to my mother and father last night on a sat phone from one of the lifeboats,” Armando explained. “They had already suffered from earthquakes and were expecting to be hit by the same waves that Captain Krystos took us over after the asteroid strike.” Armando was becoming more familiar with the term that Mr. Summers had yelled out after that infernal thing flew over the ship. “My family went out to sea in a small boat, hoping to reach deep water and ride over the waves, like we did. But I know they could not survive such a thing. They are gone. My home is gone. My village, my nation, all gone. There is nothing left to go back to. Not for me, and not for most of the crew either.”

  Phong’s mouth was agape and tears welled in his eyes. “You spoke to them? Oh, I wish I could have called my family. My wife and children were staying with my parents in the fishing village where I grew up. The mountains are not far away, but I don’t even know if they tried to get there. I had no way to warn them. I didn’t even know they were in danger until word spread through the crew that waves were destroying every coast around the Pacific. And now we want to go look for our families.”

  “I’m afraid that’s hopeless,” Armando said. “Even if some of your loved ones survived, they would have to be far from the coast, maybe in refugee camps. That’s probably the best possibility, but there would be no way for you to find them. And even if the captain started dropping crew members off in the closest countries of Southeast Asia, we would run out of people to run the ship before it ever reached your home in Taiwan.”

  “I didn’t think of that,” Phong said with sadness.

  “And what about all the passengers?” Armando pressed. “We are responsible for their safety and wellbeing. We can’t abandon them. Can we?”

  Phong looked down at his shoes and spoke softly. “That is another thing that bothers the crew. Many refuse to serve the passengers the way we were trained to. Some say that we won’t get paid anymore, that many of the passengers have also lost their homes and wealth, and that money might not even mean anything after half the world is washed away.”

  That was something Armando hadn’t thought of. It was a frightening possibility, but he didn’t see how it really changed the responsibilities of the crew to the passengers, at least until the ship reached a safe harbor. “Some of that might be true, Phong. I don’t know how bad things will be after this disaster. But we are all lucky to be on this ship, the crew as well as the passengers. Captain Krystos is a great sailor and good leader. He saved the ship last night and I know he cares about everyone aboard. He even took time to talk to me and send me down to the med center last night. He will do the right thing. I know he will. We must follow his orders, now more than ever.”

  “You are wise and brave, Armando. I am full of fear and confusion. That is why I ask for your advice. I think it is good. I will not take part in any mutiny, but I will listen to their plans and tell you what I learn. Now I will let you rest. Get better soon, my friend.”

  “Thank you, Phong,” Armando said. Phong retreated from the cabin and closed the door behind him. Any thoughts of sleep had been driven from Armando’s mind, first by the pain and now by the burden of knowing that some his fellow crew, probably good friends of his, were seriously thinking of conducting a mutiny aboard the Sedulity.

  Chapter 7

  The monster wave bore down on the California coast from the southwest, breaking in a solid line up the coast of Baja. That sparsely populated coastline was mostly desert and the there wasn’t much for the waves to destroy until they hit Ensenada, which was not a large city, but on any other day its destruction would have risen to the level of a catastrophe. On this day it was simply an appetizer for the main course.

  The Coast Guard C-130 that had paced the waves up the coast of Baja fed continuous video into the Military Command and Control network. Generals, admirals, and politicians, along with their subordinates, were privy to views of this wave of destruction barreling up the coastline. They watched, most of them speechless, as the water along the beaches first drew back rapidly, exposing half a mile or more of the seabed in places, only to be engulfed by colossal tsunami waves that wiped out the whole coast. These waves climbed mountains, or churned many miles inland, depending on topography, destroying everything in their path.

  A few minutes after Ensenada was wiped out the waves obliterated Lobster Village in Puerto Nuevo and flattened high rise condos along Rosarito Beach before rolling over the densely populated slums of Tijuana and hitting the US border. International boundaries meant nothing to this indiscriminate force of nature. Hundreds of thousands of people stranded in San Diego had mere seconds to live.

  The crew of the C-130 viewed the destruction spread with growing horror. Crossing over the US border they also discovered that the airspace was unusually congested. Aircraft of all types and sizes were taking off from over a dozen airports along the coast. Most of them turned inland immediately, seeking to put as much distance between themselves and the tsunami as possible. However, some of the smaller planes and numerous helicopters chose to circle over the city and coastline as the waves approached. A few of them were news helicopters, broadcasting the event live, most of the others were from the military and emergency services, but several were private pilots of small planes who remained out of morbid curiosity.

  One such pilot was Tommy Mack, a medical supply salesman who had flown his trusty old single engine Cessna 172 down from Las Vegas for a convention that week. It had taken him hours to extricate himself from the partially collapsed San Diego Convention Center after the earthquake, and it took several more painful hours to limp from there to Lindbergh Field, gawking at all the earthquake damage along the waterfront. He was relieved to find his Cessna intact on the tarmac where he had tied it down, and happy that the ground crew had refueled it before disaster struck. Tommy was among the tiny percentage of people along the coast with a means of escape, but his curiosity got the better of him. He got the airplane started and, ignoring the line of larger planes full of refugees lined up for the runway, and with total disregard for air traffic control procedures, Tommy hit the throttle and took off on the taxiway. He narrowly missed a helicopter and was airborne, but instead of climbing and turning inland, as common sense dictated, he turned back towards the ocean, flying low over the city and across San Diego Bay to survey the damage.

  Tommy was so intent on gazing down at the crippled city that he didn’t even register the approaching wave until it was almost on top of him. His attention was captured instead by what was happening in the bay. Water inexplicably rushed out to sea, exposing the floor of the bay and thousands of fish flopping around in the mud. A moment later, focused on the earthquake damaged center span of the Coronado Bridge and still flying below 500 feet, he was suddenly
stunned to see a mountain of water roaring up the coastline. It towered close to a thousand feet higher than his current altitude, and its speed was at least as fast as his little Cessna could fly. He began a steep climbing turn inland, but by then it was far too late.

  “Holy crap!” exclaimed the copilot of the C-130 flying overhead. “Did you see that Cessna get smashed by the wave? What was he thinking?”

  The Coast Guard pilot had seen it, but didn’t bother to respond. The loss of that little plane was trivial compared to the total destruction of San Diego. They watched helplessly from high above as the city disappeared beneath the raging waves, knowing that this was only the beginning of the horrors that would be inflicted along the West Coast of the United States.

  “Oh, shit,” the copilot muttered.

  *****

  Hank Donner sat spellbound in the ship’s theater, witnessing the end of the world in vivid HD. The room was silent, aside from scattered sobbing, sharp intakes of breath, and mumbled prayers. Even the television commentators were speechless as live feeds from helicopters hovering high above San Diego shared the final moments before utter destruction. In the minute before the wave’s arrival the water of San Diego Bay rushed out to sea, grounding the remaining ships and boats on the muddy bottom. The mouth of the bay, between Point Loma and Coronado Island, turned into a raging river of rapids as all the water in the bay tried to escape at once.

  Emergency vehicles with flashing lights could be seen speeding down earthquake damaged streets, but it was far too late for anyone near the coast to escape by land. Hank could see aircraft still taking off from the international airport and the Navy base on Coronado. Every life they saved was a blessing. Half a dozen airliners were still lined up nose to tail at the end of the runway and taking off with only a few seconds of separation, but he could see that some would not make it aloft in time. The mammoth waves were already sweeping across the Silver Strand and into the bay. Nothing could stop them. The city and anyone still in it had run out of time.