Red Tide

by W. Dale Justice

“At ease, Lieutenant. I’m certain its important.”

  Thuy could contain himself no longer, and began immediately. “I know why. I know where. I know what. We must move quickly. Bloom not going away by itself”

  “Mr. Piseth, please start from the beginning. We are all anxious to hear what you have to say. Please bring us up to speed.” The Commander deftly guided the group to the conference table in his office. As they were seated, he caught the eye of Jimmy Falcone.

  “Ah, Mr. Falcone. You’ve caused quite a shit storm, haven’t you?”

  “My specialty, Admiral.” Sarcastic Jimmy at his best.

  Jimmy simply could not refrain from attacking any authority he encountered, including the Commander. It’s not as if he disliked Commander Phillips. He actually thought of him as a stand-up guy. But he had a title in front of his name, and was in charge of something. That automatically made him Jimmy’s target. Unfortunately for Jimmy, he had no experience dealing with this particular military man. He was on Phillips turf now, and was about to get baptized.

  “Lt. Jimeson, would you assist Mr. Falcone, please, then rejoin us.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The Lieutenant opened the door to the outer office, nodded then stood back as two large Navy SP’s entered the room. On either side, they elevated Jimmy’s already standing position with hands on each wrist and under both armpits, and walked a stunned and wide eyed Jimmy out the door before he could utter a word of protest. The Lieutenant quietly closed the door, and joined the seated group.

  Kate, hand over her mouth, burst into laughter.

  “God, that was smooth. You have no idea how happy that made me, Commander.” Kate beamed a dazzling smile at the commander, looking at him with a different perspective for the first time. He’s kinda’ cute, and no ring. Must be the Class A uniform.

  The Commander met her eyes. Dang! She was pretty. And no ring. When this is all over I’m going to grant myself a little shore leave to get to know her. Betraying no expression other than pleasant professionalism, he began.

  “Since Mr. Falcone insisted on promoting me to flag rank, I thought it only proper to grant him a tour of our base facilities. He should be tied up for some time. Mr. Falcone was useful in getting the word out quickly, but we need to be more responsible in how information is distributed moving forward. So, let’s get started, shall we? Mr. Piseth, the floor is yours.”

  Tied up. Ha! Kate wouldn’t care if Jimmy got water boarded. Does the Coast Guard do that? Strange circumstances require strange allies, and smarmy Jimmy was pretty damn strange.

  Thuy began to speak.

  “I have been troubled by factors that must be in place to cause so large algae bloom, and so far away from west coast of Florida. Karenia brevis only found west Florida coast. Nowhere else. Lots of other algae maybe, but not Karenia brevis. Cannot solve problem until Lt. Jimeson reveal answer. Answer is Loop Current. I let Lieutenant explain.”

  Jimesen rose, and tacked a chart to the wall board.

  “The Loop Current is an ocean current that transports warm Caribbean water through the Yucatan Channel between Cuba and Mexico. The current flows northward into the Gulf of Mexico, then loops southeastward just south of the Florida Keys, where it is called the Florida Current, and then just west to the westernmost Bahamas. Here, the waters of the Loop Current flow northward along the U.S. coast and become the Atlantic Gulf Stream. With current speeds of about 0.8 meters per second, the Loop Current is one of the fastest currents in the Atlantic Ocean. The current is about 200 - 300 km wide, and 800 meters deep, and is present in the Gulf of Mexico about 95% of the time. During summer and fall, the Loop Current provides an 80 – 150-meter deep layer of vary warm water that can provide a huge energy source for any lucky hurricanes that might cross over.”

  “We’re not dealing with hurricanes, Lieutenant. We’re dealing with algae.” The Commander spoke up.

  “Yes sir. Algae that has been transported from Tampa to Mexico across the entire Gulf, sir. Let me explain how this happened.“ The Lieutenant continued.

  The Loop Current flows northwards into the Gulf of Mexico. Every six to eleven months, a bulge in the current cuts off into a clockwise-rotating eddy that then drifts slowly west-southwestward towards Texas. The Loop Current commonly bulges out in the northern Gulf of Mexico and sometimes will shed a clockwise rotating ring of warm water that separates from the main current. This ring of warm water slowly drifts west-southwestward towards Texas or Mexico at about 3-5 km per day. This feature is called a "Loop Current Ring", "Loop Current Eddy", or "Warm Core Ring", and can provide a key source of energy to fuel rapid intensification of hurricanes that cross the Gulf, in addition to the Loop Current itself. The Loop Current pulsates in a quasi-regular fashion and sheds rings every six to eleven months. When a Loop Current Eddy breaks off in the Gulf of Mexico at the height of hurricane season, it can lead to a dangerous situation where a vast reservoir of energy is available to any hurricane that might cross over. This occurred in 2005, when a Loop Current Eddy separated in July, just before Hurricane Katrina passed over and "bombed" into a Category 5 hurricane. The eddy remained in the Gulf and slowly drifted westward during September. Hurricane Rita passed over the same Loop Current Eddy three weeks after Katrina, and also explosively deepened to a Category 5 storm that wrecked the coast of Mexico.”

  “Algae, Lieutenant. Algae, please.” The Commander, like all military officers, were trained to insist reports from junior officers get to the point quickly rather than endlessly circling the bottom line.

  Thuy spoke up as he stood. “That same energy can fuel other things, like algae.” He had their attention. “Ten months ago, big landscape company in Tampa make major spill of liquid fertilizer that drain into bay. Two million gallons. Maybe more. Company get big fine, worker killed. Big deal on news. Company get big fines, but nobody think about concentration of nitrogen and phosphates in water. Same time Loop Current shed Loop Current Eddy. Bad coincidence.”

  The Commander was curious. “Why is the fertilizer an issue?

  Thuy responded, “Liquid fertilizer composed of three things, Nitrogen, phosphate and potash. These three called N-P-K. First two accelerate plant growth many times normal growth rate. Make grass green very fast. Last ingredient, potash help plants withstand stress, like disease or blight.

  Thuy used the diagrams Lt. Jemison tacked to the wall to explain. “Loop Eddy pick up fertilizer spill in water, and keep concentrated by clockwise rotation. Like stirring soup in large bowl with spoon. Fertilizer fuel for algae growth in warm water. Algae also picked up in Tampa Bay. Two mixed together not good in very warm water. Accelerate growth. Soup travel across Gulf to Mexico.”

  “How accelerated?” Kate asked.

  “No way know, but some point mutagen added to soup.” Thuy responded.

  “What’s a mutagen?” The Commander leaned forward, elbows on the table.

  “Dr. Kate can explain better.” Thuy turned to Kate.

  “A mutagen can be introduced to any living organism. It triggers a mutation. It is a factor in natural evolution, only much more violent. By violent, I mean its effect on the mutation rate. Mutations are random events and there is no way of knowing when a mutation will occur. Genes do, however mutate spontaneously at a characteristic rate, making it possible to assign probabilities to certain mutation events. The probability that a gene will mutate when a cell divides is called the mutation rate.”

  Kate continued. “Spontaneous mutation rates for the average gene is 0.000000001. This means a mutation event is estimated to occur once in every million genes replicated. The presence of a mutagen increases the rate of mutation to 0.00001 to 0.001. This means that a mutation event is estimated to occur once in every hundred thousand to one thousand genes in the presence of a mutagen.

  “In layman’s terms, it is possible mutating microbes in algae could grow a million times faster than known growth probabilities. If Mr. Piseth’s theory is correct, the algae Karenia brevis was alrea
dy growing like wildfire due to the very warm water in the Loop Eddy and fuel from the fertilizer spill. Adding a mutagen would be like throwing gasoline on to a charcoal grill. Boom.”

  “My theory correct.” Thuy said confidently. “Create same effect in home lab in garage.”

  The room fell silent pondering this new revelation. The Commander broke the silence.

  “So, we know what it is, where it is, and how it got there. Where is it going, Lieutenant?” Commander Phillips turned to his aide.

  Lt. Jemison answered solemnly. “When the bloom reaches the coast of Mexico or Texas, it will be carried north along the shoreline with the Gulf stream current.”

  Chapter Ten

  Washington, DC

  Secretary of State John Waxman’s eyes met the ambassador’s as he listened to the voice on the phone intently. “Yes Mr. President. You may expect the full support and resources of the United States. Yes. Thank you, sir. Goodbye.” John looked at the receiver in his hand before slowly replacing it in the cradle. The ambassador spoke first.

  “What is the latest, Mr. Secretary?”

  “97 dead, 178 need hospitalized and growing. More refugees arriving every hour. We have four mobile hospital units headed to Ciudad Madero as we speak. The United States Navy should have them up and operational within hours after landing. The hitch is where to land them, and where to set up shop. We need to be close to where the casualties are coming in. Not much of a road network down there. Any flat beach will do for the hovercraft, but we can’t land or set up in a hot zone with bad air.”

  “Could you not set up south of the peninsula in an area the bloom has already passed?” The Mexican ambassador was suggesting anything he could think to do to hasten the disaster response.

  “Jose, the damn thing is a hundred miles long. The center is just now moving past the peninsula. It will be more than three days before it passes north out of the area. We have to move everyone in the north inland at least 20 miles to get them the hell out of harm’s way. Maybe further if the winds blow inland.”

  “My countrymen are dying, John. We must find a way.” The Ambassador replied.

  “I understand completely, Jose. My countrymen in Texas are next on the hit list. This Administration has assembled a crack team of specialists and scientists in Bayboro Harbor in St. Petersburg, Florida. They are working hand in hand with our government agencies to get to the bottom of this whole mess. You may rest assured, as I have pledged to your President, the full resources of the United States military, medical and scientific communities have been mobilized to aid Mexico in their time of need.”

  The Secretary of State rose, signaling the Ambassador the meeting was concluded. He warmly embraced the Jose with a sympathetic handshake and hug, then opened the door for his exit. Finally alone, he strode back to his desk, and called his Chief of Staff.

  “Ok Bob, who the hell are these people in Bayboro Harbor, and why the hell are they operating out of a Coast Guard base? And why is that son-of-a-bitch Jimmy Falcone with them? I need answers before that asshole makes us all look like bumbling fools again.”

  Ciudad Madero, Mexico

  The pick-up skidded to a stop, toppling Jesus and one other passenger riding in the truck bed still able to sit upright. Jesus was able to roll to his left to shield four-year old Elena from further injury. His son wheezed as he struggled to breathe. His wife Maria sat slumped with her back against the sides of the truck bed cradling Tito. She gently rocked the cold and still child, her eyes fixed and blank. Next to her in the truck bed lay her mother’s body, and the body of little Manuel, both wrapped in blankets. Dia de los Muertos, the day her children died. The day the village died.

  Aides wearing surgical masks rushed the truck. The sidewalk and street in front of the clinic was littered with the stricken. Blanket and sheet wrapped bodies went to the left, the living to the right. None of the new arrivals were allowed to enter the building. There was no more room.

  The aides quickly lowered the tailgate and slid the blanket wrapped bodies out of the bed, while others climbed the truck sides to tend to the living with portable oxygen tanks with breathing masks attached. There were not enough masks and tanks to go around. A victim was able to inhale oxygen for 30 seconds before the aide would move to the next. It was the best they could do for now.

  A nurse knelt beside Jesus, and placed the mask over Elena’s nose and mouth and began tracking the seconds on her wrist watch. All too soon, the allotted 30 seconds were up, and the aide lifted the mask to administer to Jesus. Without a word, Jesus turned his head away, grasped the nurse’s wrist and redirected the mask back to Elena. Just inches apart, Jesus and the nurse locked eyes. The nurse nodded understanding.

  The moment was lost as another truck arrived with a bed full of survivors, and more bodies of those who had not. They both stood and turned to the road. A line of cars and trucks extended south of town until they disappeared over the hills.

  The crystal blue skies and cotton candy morning clouds signaled a new day. Dia de los Muertos was just beginning.

  Ten Miles North of Ciudad, Madero

  A dusty SUV roared north following the coastline, raising a rooster tail dust cloud in its wake. The village a mile in the distance came into sight. The two passengers did not speak to each other unless they were forced to by circumstances. Each wore a surgical mask covering nose and mouth.

  The ponytailed driver, dressed in black and wearing the finest boots with engraved inlaid silver stitched to the toes and a black bandana, cut off the road towards the beach and drove straight through the fish nets hung to dry draped over wooden poles driven into the sand, tearing them to shreds. He violently cut the wheel, and skidded sideways to a halt before a group of stunned fishermen and their families. The passenger, a Sergeant in the Mexican Army, swore at the driver, then exited the SUV with arms extended to calm the enraged villagers quickly gathering.

  The Sergeant shouted. “Por favor! You must leave now. Gather your family, leave your possessions. There is poison in the water and it’s coming this way. Hurry, please!”

  A large, angry man rushed forward to confront the sergeant. More outraged villagers joined the growing mob, loudly protesting the wanton destruction of the nets. “What is this nonsense? Poisoned water? How can the ocean be poisoned? And who will pay for our nets? Let that bastard behind the wheel step forward. I’ll give him a lesson in driving he won’t soon forget!” the large man roared. The angry crowd shouted their support, shaking fists, as the big man scowled and stepped towards the Sergeant and the man hidden by the tinted glass of the SUV.

  “Por favor, there is no time for this!” The Sergeant tried desperately to be heard above the angry villagers, who began to surge towards him. That donkey’s ass driving destroyed these people’s nets on purpose, for no reason, he thought. Now, I will be attacked rather than lead these people to safety. The crowd grew uglier and louder by the second. This was not going to end well.

  The driver stepped from the SUV, and calmly removed the surgical mask to face the villagers. Angry voices abruptly became silent, as the mob visibly recoiled. Men removed their hats, women cast their eyes to the sand. Members of the Cartel were not to be trifled with, and none more so than Don Miguel, a son of their village. Don Miguel Suarez no longer fished for a living. His casts now were for men’s souls.

  “This is how you greet family?” Don Miguel paused for effect, and casually paced towards the crowd. No one moved or made a sound. “Are you trying to hurt my feelings?” Several steps forward and he stood in front of the big villager. “This is a very unkind way to treat a native son who left to seek his fortune, and now returns as your savior.”

  The big man bowed slightly, and said, “Don Miguel, my deepest apologies. I did not know it was you. Please…?” The request for mercy was not finished, but all present understood the plea.

  “Jose, are we not friends? Did we not play together in the sand and sea as children, and chase the pretty girls, eh?” Miguel s
lapped Jose’s muscular shoulder in a gesture of comradery that convinced no one, then smiled broadly to turn in a slow circle to engage the crowd with a shrug. Jose towered over the slightly built member of the Cartel. His size meant nothing.

  “Come my friends. You must listen to the Sergeant, and do what he asks without question, for he speaks for me.” Miguel gestured towards the silent Sergeant, and strode to stand by his side. “Please, be guided accordingly.” This last phrase he had once heard from a lawyer who had threatened to prosecute him, just before Miguel placed a bullet between his eyes. Miguel was guided by his own rules.

  The Sergeant looked at Miguel with a new understanding. Sergeant Hector Gonzales knew this piece of dung was Cartel, and had protested his commanding officer’s insistence that he ride along to warn villages on the coast. He now knew why.

  He faced Miguel, and quietly said, “You did not have to destroy their nets. Why did you do it? It was unnecessary.”

  Miguel’s gaze met the Sergeant’s eyes defiantly, but responded in a casual voice. “You would have spent an hour going from house to house asking my people to listen to you, a soldier they do not trust. I got their attention and the entire village gathered in less than a minute. And, they will do exactly what they are told without hesitation or protest. Could you have done the same?”