The Geostorm Series (Book 5): Geostorm [The Tempest]

by Akart, Bobby

  The Boone family understood they would have to take from others in order to survive. They would not, however, rob from anyone or steal property unless it was clearly abandoned. That would be a case-by-case judgment call, at least in the short term. Levi was the sole voice espousing a dog-eat-dog, survival of the fittest approach. He wasn’t prepared to commit robbery, but everything else was fair game as far as he was concerned.

  Chapman and Isabella rode ahead to ensure there were no new obstacles preventing them from gaining access into the tunnel. Once the group began to arrive, the two entered the tent and began to assess the difficulties caused by new refugees. Several of them had created campsites near the vehicle entrance. They weren’t blocking access, but they certainly could try to cause problems. Chapman knew they’d have to brandish their weapons to keep people back while they moved into and through the tunnel.

  By the time they exited the tent and returned to the group, a small crowd had gathered in the rain just up the hill from the entrance. The construction crews had piled tons upon tons of dirt and rock along the top of the hill. Orange silt fences had been erected to hold back the gravel and dirt, especially during rain events, but they’d failed miserably. Streams of water running off the mountain of debris began to carve deep fissures in the pile, loosening the soil to create a muddy mess. Nonetheless, the curious stood in the midst of the muck to view the spectacle of the Boone family lining up to enter the tunnel.

  Chapman approached Levi, and then he motioned for Tommy and Kristi to join them. Isabella stood watch, keeping an eye on the bystanders, with her rifle openly in view.

  “I want to believe the people inside will leave us alone so we can go about our business. I’ll have to say the hill dropping down into the dark abyss of the tunnel looks frightening as hell. There’s no light down there except a few flames flickering.”

  “We saw that, too,” offered Tommy. “I figured it was people carrying torches through the tunnel for light.”

  Chapman looked around again and then reconfirmed everyone was on board. “If we’re a go, then let’s get everything inside and ready the wagons. We’ve got to be ready for anything. This bunch looks docile, but you never know what desperate people will do.”

  Levi pulled his rifle off his shoulder and cradled it in his arms. “One quick burst or two from this, and they’ll go screaming into the night.”

  Chapman glanced at the sky. “Speaking of which, it’s getting dark. Let’s roll.”

  He and Isabella returned to the inside of the tent. Once Tommy had positioned his car in front of the opening, he jumped out to help Chapman on the inside.

  The opening to the tent was twenty feet wide and over thirty feet tall. The door was made of a heavy-duty vinyl material capable of being rolled up with a rope and pulley system. It took both men on each side of the door to work in unison to lift it high enough to allow their vehicles to clear.

  Everyone had a job to do. Sarah and Carly drove the wagons. Kristi drove the Mustang with Brooke strapped in next to her. Levi and Jesse walked in the horses while Rachel coaxed in Wonky Donkey. It was an incredible sight that immediately grabbed the attention of the tent city residents, who pushed their way toward the tunnel entrance for a better look. Isabella, the only one of the group with free hands to man a weapon, had her hands full.

  She shouted at one side of the roadway, “Stay back! Please. Stay back!” Meanwhile, curiosity seekers on the other side pressed closer to get a better look in the dimly lit space. Questions peppered the group as well as a few complaints about the prospect of having horses living in the tent with them.

  The noise was building to a crescendo, causing the horses to get agitated. Levi scrambled to get all the horses inside so Tommy and Chapman could lower the door. It took several minutes to lead the group in, during which time the rain continued to fall, soaking the road into the tunnel. Finally, the first step was complete and they were able to catch their breath.

  Chapman and Tommy joined Levi at the front of the Mustang. Kristi and Carly grabbed their weapons and helped Isabella push the crowd back. It was suddenly getting very warm in the tunnel, in part from all the activity their surprising entrance generated.

  “What’s first?” asked Chapman.

  “This is gonna take a while,” began Tommy. “First, we need to unload a wagon and position it to point backward down the ramp. We’ll chain the tongue to the undercarriage of the car, and I’ll gently take it down to the bottom. I need one person to ride shotgun and to guard the wagon while I come up for more.”

  “I can safely lead two horses down at a time,” said Levi. “If they get spooked, any more than that would be a real disaster.”

  Tommy scowled and thought for a moment. He waved at Kristi and motioned for her to join them. Tommy addressed his concerns. He placed his arm behind her back and spoke in a hushed tone of voice. “If Levi can get two of the horses to the bottom and we follow in the car, can you hitch them back up and guard the wagon alone?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Alone, Kristi. It’ll be dark, and we have no idea what’s down there.”

  She began to laugh. “Have you forgotten that night at the zoo already?”

  “Um, no.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I can handle this.”

  Levi patted his sister on the back and immediately began to unhitch the horses. He’d lead them down first. When Kristi and Tommy arrived with the wagon, he’d ride back up the slope and they’d repeat the process.

  The group worked together to empty the wagons and keep the horses calm. Levi took a battery-operated Coleman lantern and set off into the dark tunnel with two horses. Intrigued by the activity, the refugees found places to sit on the ground on both sides of the Boones as they went about their work.

  Soon, the sound of the horses’ hooves clopping on the concrete disappeared, as did the light from Levi’s lantern. Tommy and Chapman positioned the replica prairie schooner to point backwards. They carefully attached it to the front of the Mustang. Before Tommy entered the car with Kristi, he scrubbed his feet on the wet pavement.

  “This is muddier than earlier today,” he muttered to himself. He glanced back at the entrance to the tent and then down toward the darkness that awaited him. He added as he gave Chapman a nod, “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

  He started the engine and the car’s dual exhausts roared to life. A few of the onlookers cheered as if they were at a racetrack, ready for the main event. Although, as Tommy got started, he wondered if it would look more like a demolition derby when it was over.

  Chapter 12

  The Tunnel

  Louisville, Kentucky

  Tommy took a deep breath and pushed down on the clutch, holding the brake down with his right foot. The powerful engine had sufficient idle speed to give the wagon its initial shove. After twenty feet, the incline began and the car picked up a little speed.

  “Tommy, is this gonna work?” asked Kristi with trepidation.

  Not realizing it, he’d held his breath for a minute during the start of the eighteen-story ride into the abyss. He exhaled as he answered, “I honestly don’t know. The wagon weighs half as much as the car. I could tow it on level ground easily. The question is whether the thing will get away from me at some point.”

  “What, exactly, does that look like?”

  His hands were constantly working the steering wheel, adjusting and overcompensating for the wagon wanting to turn from one side to the other. Every slight movement of the wheel caused the wagon to go in the opposite direction.

  “Based upon what I’m feeling so far, we’d jackknife and get wedged against the sides. These damn railroad tracks don’t help.”

  Tommy had to keep the wagon wheels away from the steel railroad tracks embedded in the concrete. In addition to removing debris via the large dump trucks, a small locomotive with several cars had hauled out rock and moved heavy equipment around.

  “Do you want me to get out and guide you?”<
br />
  “Nah. We’re going slow enough that I can keep it pretty straight. Really, just being with me on this first run is help—” Tommy stopped himself as the tunnel road took a sudden downturn to a much steeper climb.

  Kristi reacted. “Whoa! That was a big drop—hold it, Tommy!”

  “Damn! We’re picking up speed!”

  The weight of the wagon began to pull the Mustang down the hill. His foot pressed the brake pedal to the floor; however, the rear tires were sliding and not getting any traction.

  “Can you put it in reverse?” Kristi suggested.

  “We’ll just fishtail.”

  “Parking brake?”

  “No help. Hold on!”

  The wagon and car picked up speed. Tommy focused on keeping the wheel straight with only slight adjustments. With the rear tires locked in place by the brake, the momentum pulled them downward into the tunnel at speeds approaching twenty miles per hour.

  Kristi stuck her head out the window. “Levi’s down there somewhere! If we don’t slow down, we could run over him.”

  Tommy instinctively pushed on the horn for a few seconds. When he let off, Kristi could hear that the horses were upset. “They’re close. I hear the—wait, I see Levi’s lantern. He’s waving it back and forth.”

  Tommy leaned against the door and yelled, “Out of the way! Move against the wall!”

  “Hey, it’s leveling out!” shouted Kristi. She hung her head out the window again and saw Levi struggling with the horses in the light of his lantern. “We’re getting closer.”

  The Mustang slowed down and the rear tires stopped skidding. Gradually, the steep decline became more gradual, and a moment later, they were on a practically flat surface. Tommy brought the car to a stop and depressed the emergency brake. Cautiously, he lifted his leg off the brake pedal and flexed his knee.

  They weren’t going anywhere.

  “Way to go!” shouted Levi from deeper in the tunnel.

  A few other people could be heard laughing and clapping. The sound of footsteps approaching reminded them others were affected by their risky maneuver.

  “You did it, Tommy!” shouted Kristi. She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over to kiss him. His face was cold and clammy, drenched with sweat.

  He took a deep breath. “I thought we were gonna lose it.”

  Levi appeared at the driver’s door with the horses in tow. “Piece of cake, right?”

  “Whatever,” replied Tommy with a smile. He opened his door and stepped into the tunnel. Both of his feet were immediately soaked up to his ankles. “Crap!”

  “Not exactly, but water, anyway,” said Levi. “There must be enough runoff from the two tunnel entrances to create this three-mile-long lake. It’s four inches deep in the middle, but almost a foot on the sides.”

  Kristi joined the guys and immediately snuggled the horses. Several dark figures emerged from the tunnel, some carrying flashlights. She pointed toward them as they approached.

  “Are they trouble?”

  “I wanna say no, but I’m not sure,” replied Levi. “That said, I think we need to have a change of plans.”

  “What are you thinkin’?” she asked.

  “When it got steep, I realized that I couldn’t hold on to these horses if they got spooked. I’d just have to let ’em go and hope for the best.”

  Kristi patted one of the horses on the back. “Do you want me to lead them down while you guard our stuff?”

  “Yeah. Don’t get me wrong. I know you can handle yourself, but they don’t know that. I’m afraid they might try something and it could get ugly.”

  Kristi agreed and the three of them quickly disconnected the wagon and turned it around so Levi could hook up the horses. Tommy easily executed a three-point turn, and Kristi gripped both sides of her seat.

  “This is gonna be like getting shot out of a cannon.” He laughed, the nervousness passing after their first successful trip. “I wanna get a head of steam up as we hit the steepest part of the incline. Otherwise, we may have to come back down and start over.”

  “Hit it!”

  Tommy started up the hill at a steady speed to prevent his tires from spinning on the moist concrete and then, as instructed, he gave it gas. The powerful V-8 engine roared to life and they flew up the hill, making it in a fraction of the time it took to get down.

  At the top, they arrived to more cheers. It seemed the residents of the tunnel were getting a kick out of the whole operation. Chapman greeted them first, followed by the kids.

  “Any problems?” he asked.

  Tommy laughed. “Piece of cake, or so your brother thinks. I was grippin’ the wheel. Trust me.”

  Kristi revealed herself to Chapman. “He did great. Are you ready for another one?”

  “I thought you were—”

  “We switched up. Levi had an uneasy feeling about leaving me there. Besides, I’m like a horse whisperer anyway. I’m gonna go ahead and take down two more.”

  Tommy opened his door and stepped out. He immediately lost his footing as his left leg slipped out from under him. He landed hard against the door and twisted against the frame, hitting his head.

  “Dammit!” he exclaimed, not knowing whether to rub the bump on his head or reach for his twisted left knee.

  “Are you all right?” asked Chapman as he helped Tommy stand.

  He looked down at the concrete. “That’s slick.”

  Chapman pointed back toward the door. “Yeah, the damned rain keeps falling and the water’s getting muddier, too.”

  Tommy walked toward the wagon. “Come on, let’s get this one hitched up and down the hill. Each trip is gonna be harder to make.”

  Chapter 13

  The Tunnel

  Louisville, Kentucky

  Three weeks prior …

  Carlos Ramirez hunched over the controls of the mini-Bee, the nickname for the smaller version of the boring machine used to excavate and drill phase two of the Waterway Protection Tunnel. The Bumblebee, nicknamed after Louisville’s boxing legend Muhammad Ali, packed a real punch. The mini-Bee was more of a jabber, using only a dozen rotating discs and a million pounds of thrust to drill through the softer sediment.

  Unlike the first phase of the massive infrastructure project, which ran mostly parallel to the Ohio River, this tunnel ran completely under the river from New Albany, Indiana, to southeast Louisville. It required several lateral lines, as they were called, that acted as a tunnel-like tributary for nearby creeks to take advantage of the stormwater system.

  Shooting diagonally out of the main tunnel, these tube-shaped structures meandered upward through soft sandstone and clay to strategic points identified by civil engineers.

  Ramirez had worked for the contractor hired to excavate the project for eighteen years. He’d been trained in all types of boring equipment and had worked on projects all over the world. He was the lead mini-Bee operator on the lateral lines and had worked diligently for days on this last part of the excavation.

  The company had been under intense pressure from both the federal government and state regulators. The funding on the project was running out, and due to a budget impasse in Washington, artificial deadlines, deemed unreasonable by some, were set. Ramirez, like his coworkers, worked frantically to complete a project that would never be completed anyway, due to events to come.

  Ramirez wiped sweat from his brow as the cutter wheel slowly rotated in front of his cabin’s shatterproof glass enclosure. Conveyor belts rumbled beneath his seat, removing the excavated bedrock back down the shaft to the main tunnel, where dump trucks waited. The material was then moved up the main tunnel and to a large hill of debris being created just outside the entrance.

  The mini-Bee’s temperature remained above ninety degrees, well above the much cooler sixty degrees within the tunnel. The heat from the powerful engine caused the cabin temps to rise, and a malfunction in the air-ventilation system forced him to operate without air conditioning. There were no windows to open, an
d even if there were, the rocks and debris would pelt him continuously.

  For twelve hours, he gouged a path higher toward the surface using a global positioning device to identify his target coordinates, and employing years of experience to find the path of least resistance. His sweat-soaked tee shirt clung to his overweight frame as he pounded his fist against the malfunctioning air-conditioning vents for the hundredth time.

  Ramirez straightened in his seat and focused as a seam of particularly stubborn rock slowed his progress. Drilling was about timing and feel. He’d learned over the years when to push forward and when to pull back. It was a constant dance of give and take, adjusting and readjusting.

  He furrowed his brow and set his jaw, increasing the cutter wheel’s speed and pressure, powering the mini-Bee as hard as possible without compromising the machine and the walls of the tunnel. Ramirez nudged the power level, upping it to its maximum safe level.

  Suddenly, the sound of the axle’s grind changed. Its pitch increased. Then smaller rocks began to bounce on the conveyor belts. Stone fragments spat in every direction and battered his window like birdshot fired from a shotgun.

  Ramirez held his breath, but he didn’t panic. Let the machine do the work, he reminded himself. As the mini-Bee inched forward, he breathed a sigh of relief. Every foot took him a little closer to the end of another grueling week, for which he would reward himself with a Friday night trip to Hooters and a pitcher of Bud Light.

  His momentary vision of a buxom server was wiped away when the cabin of the mini-Bee jolted. A warning alarm buzzed on the operator’s console, and the controls began to vibrate violently in his hands. He leaned forward toward the protective glass. The cutter’s normally steady rotation was now a blinding whir, increasing in revolutions beyond anything he’d observed before.

  “What the hell?” he asked aloud.

  Before he could answer himself, the machine lurched forward. Ramirez was pulled with it, his body tearing at the restraints that held him in his vinyl bucket seat. The cross-body harness threatened to knock the wind out of him and began to put immense pressure on his chest.