Without warning, a wall of water had washed down Commercial Street and Fore Street, at an unimaginable speed, taking parked cars with it. Anything or anyone caught in the open would have been swept down the streets and dashed against the concrete structures. Fortunately, the tsunami struck at roughly six in the morning on a Monday. Dozens of people had been tragically killed going about their early morning routines, but the casualty numbers would have jumped twenty-fold if the wave had struck an hour or so later, when the Old Port was filled with thousands of employees.
Kate pointed at the water a hundred meters ahead of the boat and signaled for him to turn to port. He eased the rudder over until she gave him a thumbs-up. He never saw the obstacle she had detected.
Alex had been so focused on dodging obstacles and gawking at the Eastern Promenade that he nearly missed the most obvious damage caused by the tsunami. A massive oil tanker sat high and dry with its propellers and rudder exposed. Listing forty-five degrees on its starboard side, the vessel had been ripped from the concrete pier and stranded in shallow water, its contents gushing into the harbor
Kate pointed toward the grounded tanker and shook her head. He simply nodded. There wasn’t much to say. Portland Harbor was ruined. Every nook and cranny would reek of crude oil for years to come. Given the deeper disaster scenario unfolding, he couldn’t imagine the harbormaster or Coast Guard engaging in efforts to contain the spill to the harbor. All of Casco Bay would be contaminated in short order.
He reduced the throttle as they approached the most congested part of the inner harbor and did his best to avoid larger objects that could foul the boat’s propeller. The next time Kate turned her head to confirm that he received her hand signal, he yelled out to her, “Can you tell if we’re cruising through oil!”
The surface of the water was thick with mud, silt and foam, making it difficult for him to determine if they were pushing through petroleum. The engine temperature had spiked into the red zone over the past few minutes. Lowering the throttle hadn’t lowered the temperature. Kate lowered herself to the deck and pushed half of her body through the bow rail, examining the boat’s waterline along the bow. She sat back on the deck, facing him, and nodded.
“We have a thick layer of oil running down the side of the boat!” she replied.
Shit.
Now he wasn’t sure what to do. Reduce speed further to delay the inevitable? Speed up and get there faster? Pull right into Portland and deal with the walk across the bridge? Was the bridge even safe? He decided to go for the club or Coast Guard station. He didn’t want to deal with the mess in Portland and the trek to find a passable bridge.
“I’m taking us in! Look for a pier on the other side!” he said.
As soon as she nodded, he turned the wheel, pointing the boat at a tangle of wooden piers and pilings across the harbor. Reluctantly, he increased the throttle, accelerating the boat toward its final destination.
“Kids, I need you topside to help. We might only get one chance at bringing the boat alongside,” said Alex.
Emily tumbled into the cockpit first, her auburn hair pulled back tightly by a black scrunchie.
“Do you have makeup on?” he asked.
“Yeah. Why? It’s not like I didn’t have the time,” she said, looking at him like he was an idiot.
He couldn’t really argue with her logic, though in the context of their situation, he could have said, Are you out of your friggin mind? and satisfied most adults with his response. He let it go, marveling as the “center of the universe” stepped onto the deck and walked carefully toward the bow. He couldn’t wait to see Kate’s reaction. The two of them had been battling each other like gladiators for the past year. Ethan stepped through the hatchway with his backpack firmly strapped to his back, distracting him from the potential melee between Kate and Emily.
“Ethan, you don’t want to have that on your back for this. You might have to jump James Bond style from the boat to the pier,” said Alex.
Ethan removed the pack from his thin frame, placing it on the starboard cockpit bench. He adjusted his hunter green ball cap, tucking his hair under the brim, and surveyed the harbor.
“Where do you need me, Uncle Alex? Stern line?” he asked, noting Kate and Emily on the bow.
“Exactly. Why don’t you take down the lifelines on both sides and get ready to make the jump when we pull up. I’m taking us wherever we can get alongside a solid-looking pier. Could be either side. Just remember, don’t sweat a perfect tie up. Get the line secured quickly and head down the pier to grab Aunt Kate’s line.”
“I got it,” said Ethan, staring ahead with a serious look. “Are you going to be able to get us in?”
“I don’t know. It’s not looking good,” Alex said, as his view unfolded.
Astoria Marina’s vast floating pier system had been swept across the mooring field and sat pinned against what used to be South Portland Yacht Club’s dock. Boats from Astoria were scattered everywhere, some still floating, attached to the dock, most sunk in the shallow water, their masts or flying bridges standing useless vigil, scattered haphazardly across the waterfront. Thick streaks of black oil were evident on every waterline surface.
“What do you think?” he yelled to Kate.
“You might be able to pull into one of those slips,” she said, pointing at Astoria’s mangled dock, “but I can’t tell if it’s connected to land. I can see at least a dozen boats under the water and a ton of other stuff! Go to the Coast Guard station!”
Alex steered the boat to port, passing by several empty mooring balls, and increased his speed. A few minutes later, they approached the seemingly undamaged station, which stood on a raised concrete platform that jutted six hundred feet into the harbor. Coast Guard personnel on the easternmost concrete pier waved urgently at him. Oddly, their gestures didn’t appear welcoming to Alex. It almost seemed like they were trying to wave him off.
He slowed to bare steerageway and searched for a place along the fifteen-foot-high pier that had a ladder or an access dock lower to the water. A large Buoy Tender occupied much of the water between the eastern and western piers, blocking his view of the inner pier area. Alex altered their course to starboard and edged closer to the station. At this point, he could clearly tell that the station personnel did not want him to approach any closer. Dressed in dark blue uniforms with body armor, at least two of them carried carbines slung across their chests. As soon as he saw the rifles, his mind flashed to the drop-leg holster snugged against his upper right thigh.
The holster faced away from the pier, which gave him hope that it hadn’t been spotted. He couldn’t imagine that they would be happy to see someone openly carrying a firearm on the water. The state of Maine had no prohibitions against openly carrying a firearm, and he was licensed to carry a concealed weapon in the state, but he had no idea if bringing a firearm on the boat in coastal waters was legal. He’d never given it a second thought. He decided that this wasn’t the time to push his luck, so he reached down to start the process of removing the holster.
Before he could pull the first Velcro latch from his belt, one of the Defenders roared into view from behind the western pier. Alex moved his hands away from the holster and placed them at the top of the boat’s steering wheel. The Defender’s forward-mounted M-240B machine gun remained trained on the Katelyn Ann as it closed in on the sailboat’s starboard side. Kate raised her hands, which set off a chain reaction of hands-raising throughout the boat. The Defender’s roof-mounted loudspeaker roared.
“Put your engine in neutral, and place your hands on your head!”
Alex quickly complied as the Defender came alongside, facing aft, disgorging its armed boarding team onto the sailboat’s deck. Dressed in blue digital camouflage uniforms and full ballistic body armor, the four-member team split up. One group moved toward the bow, approaching Kate and Emily, pointing their weapons at them. The second group immediately secured Alex and Ethan, removing Alex’s pistol and pushing the two of
them into the portside cockpit seat. The petty officer manning the M-240B kept it trained on Alex the entire time. When the boarding officer was satisfied that the boat was in neutral and that everything appeared under control, she signaled for the crew of the Defender to lash the sailboat securely to their craft. Without glancing in Alex’s direction, she tossed the pistol over the stern.
“Was that really necessary?” asked Alex.
“None of this would be necessary if you hadn’t insisted on approaching the station. You were warned repeatedly,” she replied.
“My car is over at the yacht club. We couldn’t go pier side anywhere but here. I apologize for putting you in this position. I imagine the station is dealing with a lot right now. Do you know what’s happening? I’m pretty sure we were hit by an EMP.”
The boarding officer glanced at the other petty officer, who shrugged his shoulders and nodded.
“Boarding team, stand down! We’ll tow them back to the station. Let’s go!” she announced, turning her attention back to Alex.
“We don’t know what’s happening, but the National Terrorist Advisory System issued an imminent warning, with no threat specifics. The station went dark at about 0500, damage to the systems onshore and onboard our vessels was consistent with your assessment of an EMP. We have our hands full, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to bring you pier side for two minutes to offload. After that, I’m putting her on the nearest mooring.”
“So I guess a harbor cleanup isn’t high on your priority list?” he said, trying to lighten the mood.
“We have some buckets and a row boat if you’re volunteering,” she said.
“Don’t piss her off, honey. Please. We’re very grateful for your help,” said Kate, approaching them along the port-side deck.
The petty officer nodded and turned to board the Defender, stopping briefly to address Alex.
“Sorry about the pistol, but the NTAS warning came with orders to disarm civilians on sight. I think it’s bullshit, but not everyone agrees with me. Either way, you weren’t getting on the station with that pistol. I’d be a little more discreet next time,” she said.
“Disarming civilians is a little strange, don’t you think?”
“I have the distinct feeling that we haven’t seen the beginning of strange yet,” she said.
Chapter 5
EVENT +04:38 Hours
South Portland, Maine
Kate stood facing the chain-link gate, staring at the water-swept, gravel parking lot. The cars had been rearranged, and damage to the clubhouse appeared more extensive than they had observed from several hundred feet away on the water. Structurally, the one-story building looked intact, but all of the windows had been shattered, and part of the steward’s shack had been swept off its foundation. The small wooden shack sat teetering on the edge of the rock wall facing west toward the Coast Guard station. She peered through the fence, scanning the parking lot one more time. They would have to walk home.
Alex removed his backpack and grabbed the fence with both hands, gauging its steadiness.
“I don’t think there’s any point,” Kate said.
She didn’t want to waste any more time getting back to their house. The car had been parked along the seawall, several feet from the edge, along with the rest of the cars that were either missing or standing vertical in the water. The cars in the lot had all been shifted at least twenty feet by the water, which would put their SUV in the oily soup mixture that now constituted Portland Harbor. She didn’t even see its tailgate, so there was no reason for Alex to climb the fence and confirm the obvious.
Just their luck. Finding a spot for their SUV in the less cramped, outer edge of the parking lot on a clear Sunday morning had been a stroke of fortune yesterday. Now they faced a wonderful five-mile walk with overstuffed backpacks in the stifling heat that would only get worse as the day progressed. Alex either didn’t hear her or was purposefully ignoring her. Neither possibility pleased Kate.
He’d already put them more than an hour behind schedule by confronting the Coast Guard station’s commanding officer about the lost pistol and the fact that they were treated like terrorists while approaching the station in a sailboat. It didn’t matter anymore, but he couldn’t let it go.
Under normal circumstances, she appreciated his proactive approach to sticking up for the family, but this was far from an ordinary dilemma. They could have walked right from the pier to the front gate in five minutes, but he kept pushing, and they were detained while their credentials were verified. It was pure harassment, infuriating and unnecessary,. Alex should have known better than to push their buttons.
Now it was hotter outside, and her last vestige of patience was about to be completely erased by Alex’s Spiderman routine. The quicker they got home, the sooner they could figure out how to get Ryan out of Boston. They needed to stay focused on that goal. Climbing a fence to confirm the obvious wasn’t on her list of things to do right now.
“The car’s gone. We’re heading out,” she stated, signaling for Ethan and Emily to follow.
She took several steps down the road before hearing Alex’s footfalls approach from behind.
“Take it easy, Kate. We’re on the same page here. I just thought we might be able to salvage something from the car if it was sticking up from the water like some of the others,” said Alex.
She softened the look on her face and turned her head. “We can’t carry any more crap. It’s hot, it’s humid, and I want to get home so we can come up with a plan to get Ryan. We have everything we need at home.”
“If our house is still there. These packs might be it. We have to think worst-case scenario,” he said.
“Every house is still standing. Even the clubhouse on the edge of the water. I’m sure our house is intact,” said Kate, picking up the pace.
“You’re going too fast for the kids. A regular walking pace would be best, especially with the heat. These packs will feel twice as heavy by the time we reach Highland Avenue.”
“Yep. I can feel this damn thing digging into my shoulder already. They’re not exactly the most comfortable packs. How long do you think it will take us to get home?” she asked, slowing down to fall into step beside him.
“Five miles? I’d say two to three hours, depending on the burden of these packs and the temperature. That’s assuming we can follow the usual roads, which is a fair assumption. Even if the water made it that far inland, we shouldn’t be looking at anything more than an occasional downed tree or power line—maybe some debris. We should be home before the day gets ridiculously hot.”
“Sounds like fun. This isn’t exactly the weight-loss plan I had in mind, but I’ll take what I can get,” Kate said, adjusting the pack on her shoulders.
Kate wished she had taken the time to pick out a more suitable backpack. Alex had given her the opportunity to look through options, but she had deferred the decision to his judgment. Less than a quarter of a mile into their trek, she regretted not taking a little more interest in the backpack he had chosen.
He had selected the same design for everyone, opting for an OD green, military-style, three-day assault pack. From a purely practical standpoint, the assault pack met their requirements on every level. The “three-day” designation referred to sustained combat operations, where a soldier would carry large quantities of additional ammunition, radio batteries, and other squad- or platoon-based items, in addition to food and water, taking up most of their “personal” space. Alex had chosen the assault pack for its large cargo-carrying capacity and unique interior arrangement.
Internally, the pack contained over a dozen zippered or snapped compartments, making it easy to organize and access the different categories of gear required for an effective bug-out bag. They had bought two backpacks for each member of the family. One for the house and one for travel.
For the boat, Alex staged each backpack with an imbedded three-liter CamelBak hydration bladder, three stainless-steel one-liter bottles, three ful
l MREs (Meals Ready to Eat), a folding knife, one LED flashlight and a basic first aid kit. Everyone was required to add two full changes of clothing and a pair of running shoes, in a sealed three-gallon Ziploc bag, to the bottom of their pack. The rest of the space belonged to the owner, which left more than enough room to pack clothing, toiletries and other essentials for a week-long trip, if you didn’t mind wearing the same items for a couple of days in a row. Kate always brought another bag for trips over three days on the sailboat.
Alex always loaded his own pack with additional survival gear. Fire-starting equipment, signaling gear, a pair of handheld radios, an enhanced first aid kit, water purification tablets and a number of items she had already forgotten. His pack always looked like it was about to burst apart at the seams and had to weigh at least fifteen pounds heavier than the other packs.
Not many families travelled like the Fletchers. Whenever they journeyed by car as a family, four of these backpacks, filled with the required basics, would be stuffed into the vehicle next to their regular suitcases and luggage. Alex had become obsessed with the idea of “bugging out” of every possible situation—an obsession that had paid off handsomely this morning.
“Honey, you should tighten the waist belt a little more. It’ll take some of the load off your shoulders. The straps are padded decently enough, but I’d guess that the pack was generally designed to go over body armor or some kind of load-bearing vest system. Kids, if you feel like the pack is rubbing your shoulders too much, tighten the waist belt as much as you can stand. It’ll make a big difference an hour from now,” said Alex.
Several feet in front of them, Ethan and Emily hiked their packs higher on their shoulders and made the adjustment. Kate did the same, tightening her own waist strap as much as she could stand, which significantly lessened the pressure on her shoulders.
“That’s much better, until the straps start digging into my stomach,” she remarked.
THE ALEX FLETCHER BOXSET: Books 1-5 Page 45