Apocalypse Drift

by Joe Nobody

  Buck’s last effort was more instinct than conscious thought. His brain commanded his body to twist away from the source of the searing pain that was abusing millions of nerve endings. The movement was more convulsive than controlled, yet still so violent it pulled the two men off balance. Both combatants became entangled with Sage’s legs, the girl desperately trying to kick her away from the knife. David sensed he was falling and commanded his hand to keep its grip on the arm holding the blade. Nothing else can hurt me, he told himself as he plummeted toward the deck; hold onto that knife no matter what.

  The two combatants landed with a thud on the fiberglass floor of the boat. David was on top, trying to regain his leverage and position for the next attack. He felt the man underneath him spasm once, twice, and then go limp. It took a second, but he quickly deduced what had happened. Just in case the man was faking, he cautiously shifted his weight and rose. There was the hilt of the knife, the blade completely buried in the man’s sternum.

  David couldn’t take his eyes off of the weapon. He didn’t notice Wyatt rushing out of the cabin, shotgun in hand, rushing to kick the flare overboard. David never heard Morgan yell for his sister, nor did he see the two girls embrace in a desperate hug.

  Wyatt stood above his son and the dead man, not sure what to do. “David…It’s okay now, David…. come on, son…. It’s okay.”

  In a trance, David regained his feet, his gaze never leaving the body lying on the deck. Wyatt wrapped his arm around his son, pulling him close. Wyatt noticed Morgan’s flashlight beam focusing on the knife. “Morgan!” He whispered with emphasis. When his wife looked up, he shook his head as a signal to shine the light elsewhere.

  Morgan realized what her husband meant, and with a flush in her cheeks hastily turned off the torch. This seemed to snap Sage from her silence. “Where’s the other one?”

  Wyatt’s head snapped up at the question. “What other one? What do you mean?”

  “There were two of them in the boat…I know there were. Where’s the other man?”

  Wyatt let loose of David and immediately headed to the back of the boat with the shotgun. Wyatt could not see anything but a small johnboat. He turned and grabbed Morgan’s flashlight, using it to probe all around, but couldn’t see anyone.

  Sage’s memory kicked in, replaying the horrible sequence of events. “I shot one of them with the flare gun. I think the flare hit the guy. There was a splash…a big one. I think the other man might have fallen out of the little boat.”

  “David, did you see another man?”

  There was no answer. Instead, David moved to the side of the boat and began to vomit over the side. Morgan moved to comfort her son. “Sage, please go get a glass of water.”

  Wyatt climbed the bridge and retrieved the night vision. He scanned all around Boxer, again discovering nothing. He flipped a series of switches on the helm, and Boxer’s deck was immediately flooded by several bright lights. Wyatt picked up the radio. “All boats, all boats…this is Boxer…we had some guys attempt to board us with guns. I believe one of the men fell overboard. We don’t know if they were alone. There could be more pirates in the area.”

  Wyatt knew most of the boaters were asleep, but wanted to let the other lookouts know what was going on. Seven boats over, one of the lookouts must have come to the same conclusion. “Boxer, Boxer…I’m going to fire a warning shot to wake everyone up,” crackled the radio. Shortly after the message, a loud boom echoed across the bay.

  The gun blast did the trick. Throughout the fleet, lights illuminated the water, and the radio transmissions clogged the air.

  By dawn, all of the boaters had checked in – all were just fine except for a lack of sleep. A frantic search swept the area around Redfish, spotlights and flashlight beams probing the night. Robbie’s body was never found.

  Two different men approached Boxer in another dingy. They helped Wyatt lift the dead man into his rowboat and secured his body to the hull with rope. The shotgun found in the johnboat was added to the fleet’s arsenal.

  Wyatt pulled the drain plug in the bottom of the boarder’s craft and gave it a good shove. It would take a bit, but the small vessel would eventually sink after filling with water.

  Everyone stood and watched the floating tomb drift away into the rising sun as the current carried it toward the Gulf of Mexico.

  Chapter 9

  Washington, D.C.

  March 5, 2017

  The thin, typeset report landed on the otherwise clear desk with significant force. The president of the United States used his fingertips to rub small circles around his eyes. The exhausted man sighed and then focused on the four men standing in front of the oval office’s historic desk.

  “Gentlemen, I’m sure you all know what this report means.”

  The four subordinates muttered a collective chorus of “Yes, sir.”

  It was the chairman of the joint chiefs, the second highest-ranking military officer in the country, who spoke first. “Mr. President, that report leaves no doubt that the Chinese government has attacked our nation without provocation. It is an overt act of war, even though no shots were fired.”

  The president’s chief of staff quickly chimed in, “I agree, Mr. President. The Red Chinese did so without regard for human life. We cannot let this act of aggression go unanswered.”

  The commander-in-chief stood and moved from behind the desk. He stopped, looking out the window lost in thought. After a few moments, he half turned his head. “I’m ready to hear recommendations, gentlemen. I’m sure all of you have strong feelings about how we should respond.”

  The Secretary of State wasted no time. “Mr. President, I strongly urge we carefully meter any response. It’s my belief that we should make the facts known to the United Nations and our allies. I recommend we use all avenues of diplomacy and our nation’s economic power to retaliate.”

  The admiral snorted at the suggestion, and wasn’t embarrassed about it. “Our economic power? The United Nations? No offense, Mr. Secretary, but we don’t have any economic power right now. The United Nations doesn’t even have electricity as of this moment. What are they supposed to do? Throw our candles at the Chinese?”

  The president interceded before the Sec-of-State could respond. “Admiral, I appreciate your position. What would you recommend?”

  The question wasn’t unanticipated. “Sir, normally, I would offer up a menu of military-based options. Unfortunately, I cannot do so at this time. Our cities are in turmoil, our supply chain is non-existent, and our forces are mobilizing to support our own territory and local law enforcement. Starting a shooting war right now isn’t wise.”

  The president grimaced and shook his head in disbelief. “Are you saying that we are helpless, Admiral? Are you saying that the greatest military force on the planet has been beaten?”

  The chairman didn’t back down. “No, sir, I intended no such representation. Our territory is not at risk from invasion or military attack. Our national sovereignty isn’t threatened at this time. What I am saying, Mr. President, is that our prolonged offensive capabilities are severely hampered until such time as we can restart America’s manufacturing, distribution and logistics infrastructure. Without resupply, sir, we can’t sustain any significant offensive operations.”

  It was the chief of staff’s turn to address the military man. “Admiral, what do you anticipate the next move by our Asian friends will be?”

  The admiral’s initial answer to the question was a grunt. “If I were the Chinese, I wouldn’t do anything. I would sit back and pour as much salt in our wound as possible. I would do so with financial moves and currency manipulation. They get stronger while at the same time making us weaker. In a way, sir, I envy their position right now.”

  The president turned back to the window again, clearly deep in thought. “Admiral, can we at least rattle our saber? Can we at least make them think we are going to hit them?”

  Before the chairman could answer, the sec-of-state inter
rupted. “Sir, if I may. The British are barely hanging on. The same can be said of Japan and much of South America. Our allies in the Middle East will undoubtedly beg for a calm, measured response. The financial markets worldwide are in complete disarray. I advise caution in our reaction, sir. I believe it wise to consider the global ramifications of our next move.”

  The admiral’s input surprised everyone. “He’s right, you know. Mr. President, you can order six carrier battle groups to stream toward the South China Sea right now. We can start rotating long-range bomber flights on penetration vectors. The Chinese will see them - no doubt. We can move dozens of fighter aircraft to Japan and Guam. But I ask you to consider how the rest of the world will react.”

  Staring at nothing specific, the chief of staff added, “What will the American people think? How will they react?”

  Frustration showed on the president’s face. “We have to do something. We cannot let such an attack on our country go unanswered, gentlemen. My tendency is to have faith in the American people, not to underestimate them. Always before, when our country has been threatened, the people have pulled together. Right now, given what is happening all around the nation, I believe we need a catalyst to accomplish just that. I’m convinced that once the people know the facts, that a foreign power caused their suffering, it will act as a uniting force…a reason to rally around the flag.”

  The Pentagon’s top man wasn’t convinced. “Mr. President, I agree with the premise, but recommend caution with the timing. Let’s get the country functioning again. Let our forces establish order and then basic services. The American people’s support will be so much stronger if they are fed and have electricity. I can provide many more options if we know we can refuel our planes and feed our troops.”

  The secretary of homeland security nodded in agreement. “Mr. President, it’s been just three weeks since the upheaval began. I’m already receiving reports of starvation along the eastern seaboard. Less than 10% of the country has electrical power. The transportation system is completely shut down. Hospitals are out of generator fuel and medications. Fires are burning out of control in eleven major metropolitan areas that we know of. Fewer and fewer first responders are reporting for duty. National Guard units are reporting higher and higher levels of non-reporting personnel…”

  The president cut the man off. “Okay, okay…I get the picture, Mr. Secretary. I understand.” The chief executive walked around to the front of his desk and calmly leaned on the corner. He studied each man squarely, his voice steady, “Gentlemen, we cannot let the Chinese, or the rest of the world for that matter, believe for one moment we are going to let this assault go unanswered. Each of you makes a valid point, but the final responsibility resides with me. While I don’t like it, I’m willing to compromise. Admiral, surely we can at least begin to position assets where they will cause the Chinese to sweat a little?”

  Thinking for a moment before responding, the senior military official said, “Yes, Mr. President, we can take some preliminary steps and begin to move forces to the region. I can move an armored brigade to South Korea, and we can reroute a few carrier groups to the Pacific.”

  The commander-in-chief smiled with pleasure. “Draw up the orders, Admiral; I’ll sign them. I also want it understood that the vast majority of our military forces are to be used domestically. Let’s see if we can manage to send a message to the Chinese and get back on our feet at the same time. We’ll have our retribution after we make sure our people are secure.”

  The city of Galveston, Texas possessed a long and colorful history – much of it involving corruption, skullduggery, and the darker attributes of mankind. As the Marinaville armada approached the Bolivar Roads, Wyatt got his first glimpse of the island city’s skyline. The Moody Plaza high-rise tower was normally the first structure viewable on the horizon, but this afternoon it was columns of smoke and ash rising heavenward that landmarked the town. Clearly the citizens of Galveston had suffered yet another in a long string of hardships.

  Houston was nothing more than a B-player in Texas during the early 19th century - Galveston being where the action was. Once a booming coastal port, the businessmen and longshoremen who ran the city had become greedy and corrupt. The situation had gotten so out of hand, a far less desirable and clearly inaccessible docking facility gained favor with many of the Lone Star state’s reputable businessmen. Fifty miles inland and to the north, Houston’s port facility should have never existed, but graft drove visitors away from the Galveston Island’s natural deep-water harbor.

  Over the years, Houston grew and prospered while Galveston struggled - the hurricane of 1900 all but eliminating any hope of reestablishing the town’s prominence. Still distinguished as the greatest natural disaster in the history of the United States, an estimated 7,000 people perished in the storm.

  During the prohibition years, prostitution, gambling, and speakeasies were openly known to exist in Galveston. The citizens of the island supported the illicit activities which translated into the burg becoming a very popular tourist destination. Wyatt grunted thinking about those wild times on the island, it must of have been the Las Vegas of its day. What should anyone expect, he thought, the place was founded by a pirate.

  The fleet had no intention of steering anywhere near the island today. During normal times, boaters from Clearlake commonly motored the 28 miles south, in search of a location to dock and enjoy some of the finer seafood restaurants along the east end. No such dining excursions were in order today. After the pirate attack early this morning, avoiding people was a high priority on everyone’s list.

  As the group of boats plied south through the bay, they passed the site of another historic disaster, this one manmade. To the southwest, Wyatt could discern cranes looming over the port of Texas City. In 1947, while the small town was enjoying the post-war economic boom, an explosion there killed over 500 people and injured thousands more. A German freighter loaded with fertilizer exploded with such force its anchor was recovered several miles away. The event caused two nearby ships, both full of the same ammonia nitrate, to catch fire and then detonate. This second set of atmospheric eruptions completely wiped out the first responders heading in to fight the flames. The people of Galveston, 14 miles away, were knocked to their knees by the blast wave.

  That catastrophic event and the subsequent recovery resulted in the small community referring to itself as “the town that refused to die.” Wyatt hoped the same resolve that had sustained the citizens of yesterday worked as well for the current populace.

  The flotilla was approaching the Bolivar Roads, one of the busiest intersections of commercial marine traffic in the world. At this spot, the Houston Ship Channel, the Intracoastal Waterway, and the Texas City Channel all met in what amounted to a Times Square-like interchange of water-borne tonnage. Normally, Wyatt and the rest of the skippers in the fleet would be on high alert in this area, but not today. Probably more than anything he had witnessed so far, the lack of super-tankers, football-field-sized container vessels, and oceangoing tugs made it clear how bad the situation was. The radar showed the roads were completely void of any traffic.

  To anything other than a large commercial vessel heading southwest out of Houston, there was what amounted to a fork in the road ahead. Galveston Bay essentially ended leaving two choices – west along the Intracoastal Waterway or east to the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

  The Intracoastal, or “The Ditch” as it is commonly called, is a manmade channel of water that winds its way from Brownsville, Texas all the way along the United States coastline, eventually reaching New Jersey. In the early 1900s, construction began on the system that eventually resulted in a maritime superhighway. A system of dredged channels connected the country’s natural bays, lakes, and rivers, providing one of the longest protected passageways in the world. The system was designed so commercial traffic could avoid the dangers of open ocean transport. It was possible to float from the Mexican border all the way to upper eastern
seaboard without navigating into the open, often dangerous waters of the Atlantic Ocean or Gulf of Mexico.

  Normally, the fleet of smaller boats from Marinaville would have chosen The Ditch for its protection. It had been decided that avoiding the Intracoastal was the lesser of two evils, and the group would head offshore and into the Gulf for this leg of the journey. Wyatt recalled the intense discussion over this choice. Going offshore was a risk. The rambunctious waves of the gulf could make the transit rocky for hefty vessels, let alone the least seaworthy of their group.

  On the other hand, several sections of the Intracoastal were lined with housing developments and communities along the banks. The boats would be easy prey for anyone wanting to cause a problem from shore. The Brazos River locks posed an insurmountable challenge and so determined the course of the flotilla. Without electrical power, the mechanism wouldn’t be operational, and there was no way of knowing if the locks would be open or closed.

  One of the primary concerns with going offshore was the sailboats. These vessels weren’t built for speed. Their hull design was such that they could maneuver and maintain course at a slower pace. Powerboats posed an entirely different, but equally threatening challenge. Most of these smaller vessels were much, much faster, but couldn’t steer nearly as well at low speeds. Even in moderately rough water, these smaller boats needed to maintain twice the speed as their wind-powered cousins to keep their bows pointed in the right direction and ride the waves properly. Keeping everyone together might be a serious problem.