Coastal Event Memories

by A. G. Kimbrough

  It was before midnight of Day-1 when Zeke set both anchors in a slough East of a hill. He was awakened early on Day 0 by the blast of wind out of the East that just kept increasing. By 8:00 AM, the tide was running out at a tremendous rate, and by 9:30 the Flush was setting on the mud.

  By noon, the earthquakes were occurring every few minutes. Zeke was worried that the mud would swallow the vessel. The big one happened in the afternoon, a few minutes after the incoming tide had floated the Flush free of the mud. He heard it coming, just like the previous shocks, except the noise was many times greater, and it went on for several minutes. He could see trees shaking, and falling. Then the hillside split and slid down into the slue. It pushed the Flush sideways, dragging both anchors, washing over the starboard side, until the port side was driven into the trees on the East bank of the slue.

  The tide continued to rise, until Zeke had to retrieve both anchors to avoid over stressing their systems. He set the sea anchor and hoped the drift would not drive the Flush into anything. The wind had shifted to come from the West, along with a driving rain that never quit.

  Visibility was zero, and the sea anchor had snagged on something. It held for an hour and then came loose with a lurch. Zeke caught a few hours sleep, on the bridge, with his life jacket on.

  On the morning of Day 1, the Flush ground to a halt, against something that prevented the wind from driving it further east. The tide had stopped rising, but the wind was still blasting, and the rain continued its deluge.

  Zeke had stowed most of the electronics before the worst of the Solar EMP storm. He retrieved the multi-band radio receiver, and reconnected the external antenna. All he found on any band was static. He then fired up the GPS and was able to capture two satellites. The GPS indicated a current position on the West Side of the San Joaquin Valley, near the town of Clovis.

  The wind eased to a steady 15-knot blow, by Day 5, and the downpour continued. Zeke spent his days inspecting the vessel for leaks, and checking for damage. The nights were spent in a fruitless effort to find any radio traffic He still slept in his life jacket. He was in good shape for food and fuel. Since there was no sun he had to run the small generator a few hours every other day to recharge the air storage tanks.

  On Day 48, the wind died and the rain decreased to a light drizzle. The visibility increased to a half mile. Zeke reinstalled the radar antenna package, and repaired some connections on the solar arrays. The solar power output was still minimal because the only daylight was a dull glow.

  Chapter 5

  USMC Captain Walter Brent was 28 years old, and looked like a recruiting poster. He came through the El Toro gates at 0700 on Day -2. He was scheduled to be on call as the pilot of the VIP Osprey V-22 aircraft. On the rare occasions when he had flown a VIP mission, it was to take some General from one base to another. Usually they used fixed wing aircraft unless there was no landing strip, and the distance was out of helicopter range.

  Walter figured that he would spend the day doing paperwork in the ready room. Things were tense at the base. The President's Emergency Declaration had significantly increased the security level, and civilians were not being allowed on base.

  Major Bert Walker, his Wing Commander, came in waving a flight plan. “We have a hot one. You need to pick up some Homeland Security bigwigs at the helicopter pad on the LA Federal Building.”

  “Where are they going?” Walter asked.

  “Some spook facility up near Reno. You better grab your overnight kit, the weather is not looking good.”

  When he went to the flight line to start the preflight checks Walter was surprised to not find his usual Crew Chief. “Where's Gunny Larson?”

  “The Duty Crew Chief replied, “ Gunny Larson and his whole crew got loaded up along with a full service and repair package and flown out of here yesterday.”

  “Where the hell did they go?”

  “It was supposed to be hush hush, but Corporal Benson said they were going somewhere in Northern Nevada.”

  Walter called home while the Flight Engineer was running a computer check. He told Sue, his wife, that he might have to overnight. He the told her he loved her, and asked her to kiss the kids for him.

  His copilot, Lt. Marsha Rothermal, looked pissed. “I had a date for the Angels game tonight,” she said.

  Walter knew she was a rabid fan. “I guess you'll have to listen on the radio, or watch it on the DVR when we get back”.

  The computer check completed, they taxied out to the runway, rotated, and took off. When they checked in with LAX Traffic Control, Walter was surprised to have a Red Priority, which took them directly to the Federal Building.

  As soon as the Port engine was shut down, a group of men approached the craft. There were four guys in suits and six guys in full combat gear, carrying automatic weapons. Walter thought that the contingent of bodyguards was a bit of overkill.

  One of the bodyguards came in to the flight deck and asked for their cell phones, in a polite, but demanding tone. Walter was not pleased, since he planned to call and speak to the kids when they got home from school. “This must be some hot shit secure mission, what gives?” He asked.

  His answer was stony silence, and the bodyguard's hand out.

  “OK, you guys have all the guns. But we’re all on the same team. Give him your phones.”

  The flight to a set of GPS coordinates took a little over two hours. Walter had checked his charts, and nothing at that location was shown. It was in the middle of a restricted area.

  They landed on a pad next to a large, heavily reinforced hanger that was built into a cutout on the side of a mountain. As soon as they touched down, the hanger doors opened, and a couple of black SUVs pulled out. After the guests departed, a small tractor pulled up, attached a tow bar and pulled the Osprey into the hanger. The massive hanger doors started to close after them.

  “Grab your bags guys, it looks like we're going to spend the night here.”

  He was not surprised to see Gunny Larson driving the tractor, and the other members of the service crew setting the tie downs.

  “What in the hell is going on Gunny?”

  “All they told us is that we’re here until the emergency is over. There's a monster bunker under this mountain, with a lot of FEMA and Homeland Security types. It looks like we are the only military here. We are quartered down on Level Five, all by ourselves. These guys are acting like we work for them. Our Travel Orders say we do. It's good to have you here Sir.”

  Half an hour later, Walter was escorted to a plush office on Level Two. DHS Director Malcolm Kemp stood with an outstretched hand.

  Kemp looked like a bureaucrat playing solder, with stiffly starched black fatigues, with several official looking patches and badges.

  “Welcome to the Western Command Center Captain Brent. You’re assigned here for the emergency duration.”

  He handed Walter a single page, with a single paragraph, under the Presidential

  Seal. It was signed by the President and gave ultimate control over all governmental assets, both material and personal to the regional FEMA Directors.

  Walter read the paragraph, and then asked, “Just what is this emergency, and how long do you expect it to last?”

  “There is a slight chance that the asteroid approach could be deflected by a developing unusually large solar flare, into an Earth impact. If it occurs, it could be civilization ending. We are one of several shelters that should make a recovery possible.

  This shelter houses nearly 2000 people with the skills and tools to maintain our government and administrate the recovery.”

  “What about the people outside? Walter demanded.

  “If the worst happens, we expect there will be some survivors, and we will take care of them after conditions stabilize. Remember, it looks like less than a 10% possibility, but we had to make some hard choices.”

  Walter stood up, “I have a family down South, I need to be with them.”

  “I'm sorry, but your a
ircraft would be essential if things go bad. You are the senior military officer here, and we need you to do your duty. You and your people will be confined to quarters until the event window has passed.”

  Walter stiffened, “I want to communicate with my commanding officer. I don't believe this is a valid order.”

  Director Kemp pressed a button, and two Security Guards appeared. “Again, I'm sorry, but the communication channels are being disrupted by the EMP conditions.”

  Walter was escorted to level Five, where he gave the bad news to his team of 26 Marines. In addition to himself, 11 others had family in Southern California.

  The reactions included rage, fear, and sorrow. The afternoon and evening of Day -1 were spent in quiet conversations and prayer.

  The earthquakes started just after breakfast on Day 0, and increased in frequency, duration, and intensity throughout the morning. The power went out several times, and when the big one hit in early afternoon, it stayed out. There was emergency lighting, and the electrically locked doors, unlocked. Crack appeared in the perimeter rock walls.

  The quakes diminished, and the lights finally came on just after 5:00 PM. One week later, Walter was escorted back to Director Kemp; office. In route, he noticed that the damage was limited to cracks in the walls and dust on many horizontal surfaces.

  Kemp's face was grave. “I'm afraid that .the worst has happened. All communications, including fiber optics has been lost. Before we lost the sensor package, the surface winds were over 120 knots and the remote seismographs indicated several quakes over 9. We may be the only survivors. Our orders are to stay buttoned up until we are sure the danger is past. I need your team's cooperation and support. We won’t keep you separated from the rest of the staff any longer. We have adequate supplies and recreation facilities for a long-term stay. I’ll keep you informed on any developments. You can move to the senior staff quarters and mess on Level Nine any time.

  Walter replied “I will stay with my folks for now if that's OK. We will make good use of the facilities. My people have been going a little stir crazy.

  Chapter 6

  Cindy Henderson was 18 years old, and a freshman at Montana State. She was on vacation with her parents in their RV on Day-2, when they decided to wait out the storm in a Reno hotel. They were all full except for the Atlantis Casino Resort. It was big, overpriced, and substantial, but they had a room left. There was a convention there and the bars, restaurants, and casino was crowded.

  That night at 11:00 PM they were awakened by the fire alarm. Cindy slipped on a pair of jeans and a sweater, and helped her folks get down the stairs.

  When they reached the lobby, armed men in full combat gear were separating the people as they came down the stairway. Cindy was pulled away from her parents and hustled through a door. She shouted at her father and saw him clubbed to the floor when he tried to intervene.

  She was forced down a gauntlet of troopers wearing flack jackets with DHS on their chests into a large bus. It was almost full, of young women. They were pushed further back and 6 troopers occupied the first three rows of seats. The door slammed, and the bus started moving. She could see several other buses as they assembled into a convoy lead by Humvees with machine guns on top. They left Reno going south, and turned off the freeway 45 minutes later. After another 30 minutes, they went through some gates, through a hanger full of aircraft, and down a long ramp.

  They were hustled off the bus into a huge room full of military type vehicles to a bank of elevators. In groups of a dozen, they were escorted into the elevators, and down to the eighth level. The doors opened to a long corridor, with several branches. Each branch held a locked steel door, and Cindy’s group was pushed through the door on the third branch.

  The door opened into a long room, with a total of 50 bunks along both walls. At the far end of the room was an open restroom with sinks, toilets, and a big shower area. Women were milling around, questioning each other, and crying.

  The door slammed shut after the next group entered. Cindy found an empty bunk and sat down. She could not believe what had happened to her. After a few minutes a loudspeaker made an announcement:

  “This is Regional DHS Director Malcolm Kemp. The President has declared a National Emergency. There is a high possibility that tomorrow an asteroid strike may end the world as we know it. This facility and 11 others like it are charged with directing recovery operations and restoring order and governmental control of the surviving population if the worst happens. You were taken to save your lives if the worst happens.

  Unfortunately, we do not have room for the rest of the area population. If the worst case happens, the inhabitants may represent the only hope of mankind to survive. Since most of the DHS people here are male, it was necessary to insure that a suitable number of females are present to insure a broad gene pool.

  If the asteroid misses, you will be returned to your lives and families. If it does not, we all will have to get on with our new lives.

  The doors are locked during this event for your protection. A cart with food for the next 24 hours will be delivered shortly. I suggest that you stay in your bunks since we may experience severe aftershocks. Good night,”

  The pandemonium started again, and Cindy just sat there in silence, trying to comprehend what was happening. The woman on the next bunk lit a cigarette, in defiance of the No Smoking signs, and said, “Hang in there honey, we’ll get through this if we don’t go into meltdown.” She stood, and then sat down beside Cindy and placed her arm around her shoulders.

  Together, they hung on during the terrors of Day 0, and the days after.

  Cindy’s new friend, Rose McAllen, was 23 and had run away from a molesting foster home when she was 15. She had started hooking immediately, and was making $1000 a night on Day –1. She was a survivor, and had resolved to help Cindy cope with their new life, no matter which direction it took.

  On Day 11 all of the women were taken to the general mess hall, where a stage had been erected. Director Kemp was standing at a lectern, and armed troopers lined the walls. He had a stern expression, and then started speaking.

  “I am sorry to inform you that the worst has happened. There have been massive earthquakes and volcanic eruptions everywhere. Before we lost contact with the Presidential Bunker below the Denver Airport, they reported that most of the East Coast was under water, and that Yellowstone, Mammoth Mountain, and Mount Rainer had massive eruptions. They were reporting their site was being covered by ash when we lost contact. Before we lost it our surface weather station had reported continuous wind velocities of over 120 MPH for several hours.

  I must conclude, and FEMA Regional Director Morris agrees, that it is likely that we may be the only survivors in North America.

  Going forward, our plans include staying buttoned up in the bunker for 36 months, in order to allow surface conditions to stabilize. We will attempt to make the living conditions for everyone as good as our resources permit. You have been restricted during this crisis period for your own safety. I know that many of you are upset with the circumstances that brought you here. I had to look at the potential big picture, and make a number of hard choices, including the one that brought you here, without your friends and loved ones.

  The hard fact remains, we may be the only humans left to repopulate the earth. There was no opportunity for the staff here to bring our family and friends, including my own wife and children. We are all in the same boat. In time the grief will pass, and we must move on.

  The staff population includes about 100 women, and over 1500 men. Within the next few weeks we will be screening all of you, medically, professionally, and emotionally. We will have an assignment for each of you that best fulfills the needs of this community. Our objective is to develop a stable, productive, and prolific community that has a minimum of four children from each fertile woman.”

  There was a great outcry and rage among the assembled women, and Kemp just stood there, while the troopers brought their weapons
to port arms.

  “You may not like it, but I have both a carrot and a stick. Those who cooperate will have an improved standard of living and a good life. Anyone that does not respect our authority will not be treated gently. You will be called in small groups for interviews, starting tomorrow.” With that he turned and left the room, and the women were herded back to their barracks.

  Cindy was beside herself. “What are they expecting?”

  Rose lit her last cigarette and said, “They want us to be brood mares and whores. We can’t fight it, they have all the guns, and rape is no fun. I know. All we can do is go along until we have an opportunity. Just stick with me, and I’ll help you through it. It’s not too bad if you don’t fight it, and sometimes it’s pretty good.”