SURVIVING ABE: A Climate-Fiction Novel

by O'Brien, J. Z.

  Ela jumped, "Sure glad that worked, but it didn’t sound healthy. We need to be careful and try to miss that big hole on this side of the bridge when we go back."

  Con frowned, “Yeah, I’ll tell Hank about it on Friday, see what he thinks."

  Con continued to the proposed home site, near the well's location, on the raised gravel driveway. Though the clouds had lifted momentarily, the tops of the canyon walls were not visible. Even with the limited view Ela could see the potential and felt it would be a great location. The caveat being the cost of materials and labor required in taking it from a bare piece of ground and turning it into a place to live.

  Another thought occurred to Ela and she dug out her smart phone, "I hope there is a landline around here you can hook into, or we won’t be talking much. There’s no cell or data service here."

  Con dug out her cell and verified what her daughter had just told her. "You’re right, I didn’t think about that. That’s another thing to bring up to Hank. Other than that, what do you think?"

  "Mom, it’s hard to tell with this weather, but I'm sure the views are gorgeous. And it's good that it has the well. You might need a new bridge, though. We better check that thing really good before we try to go back over it, and I vote we do that now. It’s starting to get dark, and it's raining again."

  "I agree, let’s go," Con said starting the car. She circled around the home site shining the headlights on the wellhead and stopping briefly, "There’s the big draw of the property, that and the Discovery Channel buying land and pushing up land prices around Gateway."

  "Mom, look! The water is coming around this side of the bridge!" Ela grabbed her mom’s arm.

  "I see it. Let’s ease up there and see if we can get up on it," Con said with more confidence than she felt.

  "I don’t know, Mom. Everything I’ve heard says not to attempt to drive through water you do not know the depth of. How deep is that low spot?"

  The front of the car started angling down sharply and Con stabbed the brakes. Quickly slapping the shift lever into reverse and mashing the gas, she let off the brake slowly. The car didn’t go forward as the brakes released, but it didn’t back up, either.

  "Maybe we should have checked it before we crossed the first time," Con admitted through gritted teeth, willing the car to back up as she gave the 4-cylinder engine more gas.

  Ever so slowly the car started backing up, rocking forward, then back again, but the front end wasn’t coming up much until the tires finally dug down and found some traction. The front of the car popped up then fell down as if backing over a tall, square speed bump. In this case it was the top of the shoring timbers that had supported this end of the bridge.

  When the tires rolled off, the front of the car slammed down on the timbers with a sick sounding thud. Con winced, but she stabbed the gas again and they shot backwards for ten yards before she could let off and gain control.

  In the headlights the closest end of the bridge was sagging downstream. Con stopped the car with the headlights shining through the downpour of rain on the bridge. Then something gave on the other end, and the bridge became disappearing scrap lumber.

  "Did I mention how remote this property is on this side of the year-round water source?"

  "This isn’t the time for joking around. Can we cross somewhere else?" Ela was digging out her phone. "No service and no bridge out of nowhere. Where’s Sarah Palin when you need her?

  "Bridge to nowhere and a bridge out of nowhere, I get it. Are you calling your possible future inheritance nowhere?"

  Ela turned to her mother and opened her mouth—

  Con continued before Ela could speak, "And you said it's no time for joking around!"

  They both laughed for a moment because it was easier than crying this early in a crisis. After the laughter came silence as each of them took time to consider their new reality for the coming night. Torrential rain pounded on the car, the sound becoming louder, threatening even, now that it had washed out the bridge and trapped them.

  Con took action first and started with backing away from the overflowing stream and going back to the higher ground at the home site. She then slowly cruised around until the car was as level as possible, and parked facing toward the highway.

  "What timing, Mom. Hard to believe I’ve been racking my brain trying to solve a water shortage problem."

  "I’ve told you since you were in diapers about the power of positive thinking, have I not? One would think you would have learned to control it by now. How old are you anyway?"

  Ela ignored her question and asked one of her own, "Good thing I got you that massage today, huh? You’ll be much more pliable 'parking' tonight with your daughter!" Ela giggled. "Got blankets?"

  "I'll invoke the Fifth on that one, or you’ll claim you have evidence of my juvenile delinquency."

  "I already have copious evidence of that. So, let me get this straight. We have a flooding stream between us and the highway, and enough of a ridge that we can’t even see the highway, right?"

  "You are correct, so far."

  "It's raining so hard that cats and dogs are expected momentarily."

  "Check."

  "We're incommunicado."

  "Check."

  Ela opened her mouth to continue, but she’d run out of steam.

  "Buuut," Con accentuated and then continued, "Lucky for you it is your old mom you’re stranded with and I can confess that sleeping bags, food and water are stored in the rear compartment for emergencies."

  "What kind of food?" Ela asked with some dread evident in her voice.

  "Oh, some granola bars, trail mix, and other goodies."

  "I’m not yet hungry after that big lunch," Ela answered with some alarm. "What is it with granola anyway? Every time something bad happens, or is about to happen, somebody starts breaking out granola bars. They've become a bad omen; they scare me!"

  "Okay, already! You can have the trail mix, Sweetie," Con soothed.

  "Thanks, Mom. How about a bedtime story too?"

  Con quickly opened her door and jumped out, slamming it shut. Just as quickly she was in the backseat followed by the rear door’s slam. "First dibs on the backseat tonight."

  Ela watched as her mother folded down half of the backseat for access to the rear cargo compartment. A flashlight came on and she started opening bags, digging around briefly, then turned back to Ela, her blindingly bright headlamp full in Ela’s eyes. "Oh sorry," Con said taking it off her head and putting it, inverted, around a gallon jug of water. The opaque water jug gave off a comfortable glow, so they now had light without danger of running the car’s battery down.

  "Ela, I’m very sorry about this. We have three-quarters of a tank of gas and plenty of food and water, so we’ll be fine. As soon as it gets light in the morning we can probably find a place to cross the creek and walk up to the highway to get help. It’s an adventure!"

  "Adventure is hardship—remembered in comfort!" Ela reminded her mother of one of her own sayings, and then asked, "Hmm, where did I hear that?"

  "Okay, if you want comfort we can lay the backseats down flat, spread out the sleeping pads, then the sleeping bags, and then I’ll tell you a bedtime story."

  "Oh gee, it’s a sleep over with Mom, in a car, in the middle of nowhere, with a bedtime story. This is the stuff adventure vacations are made of?"

  "It comes with granola bars too," Con added.

  "Not on my side. Keep your granola crumbs to yourself."

  "Ingrate," said Con.

  After a bit, Con asked, "Got any dollar bills? How about some Liar's Poker?"

  "I know better than that, you’ve already cleaned me out a few times. So, are you two going to buy this place?"

  "We might. Neither of us wants to take on building a house at our age, so that’s not on the radar. It does have a well and Hank says putting in a septic tank is no biggie; conceivably we could pull a camp trailer full of food up here and hook up to basic necessities. We’re thinking it wou
ld be a good fallback position, if things in the cities start to disintegrate for any reason. Even if things go on as they have been, retreats and recreational properties are still popular, so resale should be good. We might even make money on it by just putting in a septic system and graveling an RV-type site by the well."

  "I can easily see it as a survival property, and I hope we do," Ela added.

  "Do what?"

  "Survive on this property. Is this a reality show, Mom? . . . A Candid Camera merge with Doomsday Preppers episode?" Ela started examining the rear view mirror looking for a hidden camera.

  Con laughed, enjoying her daughter’s sense of humor and effort to make this as easy as possible. "While you’re trying to find all the hidden cameras I’ll prepare the guest-quarters, turndown your bed, and see if I can find a chocolate mint for your pillow."

  That was followed by grunts, moans, and a few under-her-breath swear words as Con crawled around rearranging things in the back and throwing any unnecessary items for the task-at-hand into the driver’s seat. "You look pretty flexible back there, but do you need some help?" Ela asked sweetly.

  "No, I need a breather," Con puffed. "It’s going to be nice and cozy. I bet you’ll remember this for a while. Great story to tell during those long, boring civil disobedience sit-ins, don't ya think?"

  "Oh, I think I’ll save this for doing jail time after we get arrested for the sit-ins."

  "I don’t want to hear about my child in jail. Stop it! Tell me about all the potential knights in shining amour that are, as we speak, feeling your stress and saddling up to ride to our rescue."

  "Don't you mean knights in armor?" asked Ela.

  "Knights in amour or armor . . . it's your choice; I already know which one I'd pick," said Con with a wink.

  "Most of the knights I’ve met recently were in jail," Ela said lightly.

  "It’s worse than I thought," Con moaned.

  "I’m joking. I’ve been arrested with a group only once. We were held in a paddy wagon with our hands cuffed behind our backs for hours, and then we were taken to the police station and held for a few more hours; then finally released. No charges were filed, but we were effectively taken out of the fray while it lasted."

  "The stuff of a mother’s nightmare, enough sea stories," Con said as she struggled into a raincoat with a hood. "I’ll be back,” was followed by a blast of cold damp air and a slamming door.

  Ela put on an extra headlamp her mother had handed her, and looked over the rear accommodations. Bedrolls on sleeping pads all topped with an old wool blanket that Ela recognized as the one her mom had always kept in her vehicle. The preparations pleasantly surprised Ela, it looked comfy with plenty of full-length room to stretch out. To roll over, though, not so much, it was pretty close quarters for two adults.

  A few minutes later the back hatch opened and Con stepped under it out of the rain. "Ela, I think the best way to do this is for you to come back here and take the rain jacket, so you can use the facilities before bed. Then, whenever we need to go, we can put on our shoes and the rain jacket in the very back of the car, to try to limit the mud and wetness inside it. Sound like a plan?"

  "Okay, let me get my shoes. It’s getting colder! We’ll need to warm up the car for a bit when we get done with having the hatch open."

  By the time Ela came in from the rain Con had all the extra stuff piled in the front seats, so they had the whole back of the Forester to sleep in. Neither of them were really sleepy, and with the storm’s noise, and the gusts of wind shaking the car, it didn’t make sleep seem possible.

  "So, Mom how’s your financial situation? You are doing okay, right?"

  Con took a breath, "Using my sixty year old woman’s perspective I'm doing fine. The house is paid for and I have some money in the bank, so I’m lucky. I got that way by saving and paying extra on the mortgage every month, and putting a few dollars aside every time I got paid. I’m just continuing to do the same thing I’ve always done. Now I’m paying ahead on food and supplies, instead of putting money in the bank, so my golden years don’t depend on the honesty of bankers or getting a part-time job doing menial labor."

  "That’s the stuff of a daughter’s nightmare, so enough of that. You still making jewelry?"

  "Not as much, in the summer the garden takes all my spare time. But in the winter I still grind on a few rocks and bend wires. A friend of mine has a stand at the weekly Farmer’s Market in the summertime. I help her run it and in return get to sell a few pieces, but lately the garden makes more than the jewelry."

  "And when someone pays cash for something you record it and pay the proper taxes?" Ela asked.

  "I’m getting tired, and I think I’ve got a little gas from that rich food at the restaurant," Con changed the subject.

  "Mom! Okay, okay . . . no more tax questions. Think we will be able to sleep?"

  "More than we did in the tent we put up in the yard when you were little."

  "Night Ma," Ela drawled and turned off the water jug light.

  Not long afterwards she heard a soft snore from her mom, so she knew at least one of them was going to get some rest. She remembered her mother never needing much time getting to sleep. When asked about it Con would laughingly say that was one of the Marine Corps’ most valuable lessons, learning to sleep when the opportunity presented itself, rather than being a slave to a schedule.

  Ela figured it might have to do with her nightly intake of herbal essence, from her earliest memory she knew her mother used marijuana instead of drinking alcohol. It was all part of seeking the alternate route, which aptly described the original plank in her mother's contrarian platform. Ela saw her mother as one who preferred being with a friend or two, passing a cherished pipe in a garden, rather than at a table in a crowded bar sipping a martini. Thinking about the aging individualist she had for a mother, Ela drifted off.

  Day 3

  Tess - Chester River, Chesapeake Bay, MD

  Up early, Tess turned on her SSB radio to let it warm up before the morning radio-net and then started gathering weather data, anxious to see the overnight changes in Abe. Once the connection was made between the HF radio and her laptop, she began downloading satellite images and atmospheric data.

  As the images appeared, Abe's symmetrical shape struck her; Abe looked like a hurricane over the four corner's region of the U.S. She knew the symmetry wouldn't last; when his easterly movement started, later today or tomorrow, Abe would morph to resemble a comma. What now appeared as Abe's center of circulation would become the head with a long, cold front for a tail that would eventually stretch from the Great Lakes to the Gulf of Mexico.

  Along that frontal boundary, battles to survive an atmospheric collision of epic proportions would take place. Based on temperature differentials between the two air masses, and the precipitable moisture content, high precipitation rates were very likely to occur all along Abe's cold front. Combine high precipitation with slow movement and catastrophic flooding is inevitable.

  Tess felt privileged to witness such an extreme storm forming and evolving in the atmosphere above her. At the same time she dreaded the implications for the people in Abe's path, which included her. Knowing Abe was approaching and saving his last punch for the Mid-Atlantic States heightened her urge to prepare; and that started with making Chestertown today.

  Time to stop planning and start doing. As soon as she heard her segment called she planned to read her weather forecasts and news, and then pull up the anchor to make way for Chestertown. The forecast she'd put together for today read more like a warning than a forecast, but boats from Maine to Texas needed to be aware of threatening weather conditions coming toward them, survival conditions for most:

  Forecasts:

  Today, please be advised of the dangerous weather that is in store for most of the Eastern Seaboard and Gulf Coast:

  A kink in the polar vortex is forcing extremely cold air south into the Western U.S. today, and in the next few days, as far south as the Gulf
Coast.

  Our atmosphere is setting the stage for a frontal passage that will be dangerously turbulent in passing, and then will freeze the wreckage in its wake.

  Hard to believe, but check your propane tanks, because the outside temperature is about to take a drastic dive across most of the Southeast.

  News & Conclusions:

  The East Coast heat wave will cause rolling power outages across the eastern third of the U.S. this afternoon during peak usage hours. Municipal Water shortages are anticipated in some cities, including Washington, D.C.

  Reports from the U.S. Southwest include widespread power and communication outages in areas affected by winter storm Abe. Some officials are reporting that cyber terrorists are targeting U.S. communications networks. Our ability to predict weather depends on communicating with satellites, and that ability is said to be at risk.

  Food for thought; we can watch and prepare for nature's storms only if our defenses against cyber warfare are up to the task. If they are not, we're blind to the dangers from nature and our enemies. Please check local weather sources and stay informed.

  Fair Winds from S/V Robin

  Under way when the first breeze rippled the river's surface, Tess looked forward to sailing the Chester River to Chestertown. She loved moving the boat and the Chester River offered her a beautiful venue to do that. Tess watched how the red-colored nylon ribbons sewn into the mainsail's trailing edge streamed, indicating which way to adjust the sail. When all four streamed straight back, it indicated the air left the sail cleanly, and that the sail was using the available wind efficiently. The tell-tail at the top of the sail kept Tess busy, it had the shortest attention span, and tended to be the first to indicate the mainsail needed trimming.

  Tess easily got lost in her passion of reading the wind, trimming the sails, steering the boat, and keeping the boat speed up enough to gain lift from the keel. She only used the autopilot when her attention, or both hands, were needed elsewhere; otherwise helming her sailboat satisfied her soul’s need for harmony with her environment.