Speed the Dawn

by Philip Donlay

  William wore many hats. For over fifty years, his unparalleled business savvy, combined with his keen intellect, allowed him to rise to the pinnacles of Wall Street power. Known as a formidable behind-the-scenes power broker on both sides of the Beltway, he eventually made the transition to active member of Washington’s political elite. In addition to his role at Eco-Watch, he was also a special envoy with the State Department. Although he was seventy-seven years old, William had the exuberance of someone half his age. Donovan loved William like a father and looked forward to having him at tomorrow’s event.

  “There you are,” Shannon said as she pushed through the heavy glass doors. “I’m not intruding, am I?”

  Donovan smiled at her perfect timing. He’d met Shannon three years earlier, shortly after Buck’s death. She and Buck had been romantically involved, though she didn’t talk much about their relationship. Buck had been notorious for keeping his private life private, and everyone respected his wishes. Only under the most tragic of circumstances had Donovan gotten to know Shannon, and discovered that she was smart and talented, though perhaps a little on the quiet side. Donovan wondered if she were always that way or only when she was around him.

  Shannon was medium height and slender, a gifted athlete who grew up in the Bitterroot Mountains of Montana. She’d gone to school to become a mental health therapist and then combined her analytical skills with her artistic talent. She used art therapy in a myriad of ways to reach out and help troubled and damaged people, focusing mostly on veterans with PTSD. She was in her early thirties. She had straight brown hair that hung below her shoulders, and her deep-blue eyes were framed by bangs. Although she was attractive, with the hardship she’d endured over Buck’s death, she always seemed a bit subdued, as if on the verge of a smile that just didn’t quite materialize.

  “It’s such a beautiful ship,” Shannon said as she joined Donovan at the railing.

  “It really is. I think this is the first time I’ve had a chance to be alone and just admire what we built.”

  “Again, I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to be a part of the ceremony,” Shannon said. “It means a great deal to me to send the Buckley off in good hands. I think Buck would have approved.”

  “I’m happy you’re here.”

  “I think about him all the time. I miss him. When I picture the ship, it helps. I feel that, in a way, he’s still out there, at least in spirit, doing good things for people.” Shannon sighed and then changed the subject. “Speaking of people, I was hoping you’d give me a final rundown of everyone I’m going to meet when the airplane lands, and then again, when we get out to the ship. I’m still trying to put names with faces and how they all connect back to Buck.”

  “My pleasure. It’s pretty simple. You’ve already met William.”

  “Of course—he’s quite the charmer, isn’t he? You two seem very close.”

  “I’ve known William for years. He was a friend of the family, and when I graduated from college, we began a professional relationship, as well as maintained our friendship. He’s part of the family. My daughter Abigail calls him Grandpa, and everyone, especially William, is happy with that job description.”

  “It shows. So, on the jet coming out today is Michael, your wife, Lauren, and Montero, right? Plus another pilot—you said his name is Rick?”

  “Yes, you met Lauren at the funeral.”

  “I do remember her. She’s a doctor, right?”

  “She has a PhD in Earth Science and is a consultant to the Defense Intelligence Agency. She and Buck were close. He saved her more than once—and my daughter, too. I hope you and Lauren get a chance to visit over the next two days.”

  “I’d like that,” Shannon said. “Buck didn’t talk much about the jobs, but he did tell me about some of the people. I know he thought highly of Eco-Watch.”

  Donovan felt the sting of losing Buck. He’d known the weekend was going to be emotional, and with long-practiced effort, he gathered himself and buried his feelings to be dealt with later. “Janie is the helicopter pilot on the Buckley. She’s Australian, and though I’m not a big fan of helicopters, she’s one of the best pilots I’ve been around. If I have to be on one, Janie is who I want flying the thing. She’ll be taking us back and forth from the ship to the aquarium. Michael is my right-hand man at Eco-Watch, and I couldn’t do the job without him. He’s the glue that makes everything we do stick together and work like it’s supposed to. He’s a former Navy pilot, so he and Buck got along great, of course. Michael is rarely serious—you’ll love him, I promise.”

  “I remember him. He’s like a younger version of William—outgoing and charming. I didn’t know if Janie was going to make it here or not. Last time I spoke to her, she was still based on the other West Coast Eco-Watch ship.”

  “The Pacific Titan,” Donovan said. “She and Buck were such good friends, so when she requested immediate assignment to the Buckley, I gave it to her.”

  “Janie and I are friends, and you’re right, they were close. Right after the helicopter crash in Alaska, when Janie hurt her shoulder, Buck was sidelined, as well, with his injuries. She was recovering in Australia, Buck wasn’t sleeping well, and the time zone difference allowed them to speak on the phone a great deal. I got to know her when she returned to the States to wait for delivery of the new helicopter. I love that girl. She is so nice. Best of all, there’s a wild Australian ranch girl underneath her cool demeanor. Growing up in Montana, I swear, it’s like we’re sisters. Which brings us to Veronica Montero. I gather she’s a different animal altogether?”

  “That she is.” Donovan smiled. “Oh, and by the way, never use her first name. She hates it. Just call her Montero like the rest of us. She’s an acquired taste. She and I didn’t hit it off straightaway, but eventually our relationship evolved into respect, and finally, friendship. She’s one of my favorite people. She and Lauren are the best of friends. In fact, it was Lauren who reached out to Montero after she’d left the FBI. And Abigail calls her Aunt Veronica. She’s the only person allowed to say that name out loud.”

  “Janie and I talked about what happened in Guatemala. I guess Montero did some work behind the scenes.”

  Donovan once again sensed Shannon’s pain—Guatemala was where Buck had died. Donovan had been there. He could relive the details second by second. Buck was beside him. A moment later, he was gone forever.

  “I don’t know much about Montero other than her work at the FBI, when she stopped terrorists about to commit an atrocity in Washington, DC,” Shannon said. “I was living there then. She saved so many lives, including mine. She’s famous, larger than life, but I’m not sure Buck ever met her. What I do know is that she was on the cover of every magazine that mattered. I watched as she testified before the Senate anti-terrorism committee. She was on television for weeks. I thought she was kind of a rock star.”

  “She still gets treated that way, especially by anyone in law enforcement. It’s uncanny how many people know her name, what she did, even though she’s changed almost every detail of her life.”

  “So, she up and quit the FBI?”

  “She didn’t like what her life had become. After the FBI exposed her, made her the poster child for the war on terrorism, she was unable to do the kind of fieldwork she loved. Her skill set, while different than Buck’s, is good for Eco-Watch. As for meeting Buck, I think they crossed paths after the terrorist attack, when she and I were in the hospital recovering from our injuries. I got the impression later on that Buck wasn’t a huge fan of all her publicity.”

  “He wouldn’t have been,” Shannon said as she shook her head. “Buck hated that stuff. I think they teach them humility at SEAL training. Every Special Forces guy I know is that way. They do the job, they go home. It’s a culture the military builds. I find that the Special Forces guys are the hardest for me to reach in therapy. They integrate so fully into their job, and much of what they do gets buried so deep, they don’t even realize it’s there.”


  “It is a culture unto itself,” Donovan said. “I know people in the community, and you’re right. Training and dedication are everything. I’m glad there are people like you who can help them.”

  “Who else am I going to meet?” Shannon asked, changing the subject again.

  “You’ll meet Rick, who’s been flying with Eco-Watch for several years now. Good pilot, nice guy. He didn’t know Buck, but I can promise you that everyone on staff, whether they’ve been with us from the beginning or started last week, knows about Buck and the contributions he made. There will always be a ship in our fleet named the Buckley.”

  Shannon started to reply when Donovan’s phone pinged. He looked at the screen and saw a text message from William:

  I’m on the 17th tee, and just learned I’m without a ride to the airport. Can you swing by and pick me up?

  “Change of plans,” Donovan said as he returned William’s text, telling him they were on their way. “We need to leave now. We’re going to Pebble Beach to pick up William at Cypress Point Golf Course. We’ll head to the airport from there.”

  Shannon started toward the door and then abruptly stopped, reaching out for the railing as if to steady herself.

  Donovan felt the vibration coming up from his feet at the same time he heard what sounded like thunder. He snapped his head skyward and spotted a cluster of glowing burning objects streaking down from above. Moments later he heard and felt the impact. More objects hurtled toward the ground and hit just on the other side of the aquarium. He couldn’t see the result of the multiple impacts, but he knew enough to realize that each one would spark a fire.

  “What’s happening?” Shannon flinched at each new explosion.

  Donovan grabbed her by the wrist, and they ran toward a fortified concrete overhang and pressed themselves against the wall. “A meteor shower, I think. Though I’ve never seen so much debris reach the ground.”

  A massive detonation shook the building, and Donovan felt his chest reverberate from the shock wave of a sonic boom. He threw his arms around Shannon and knelt to make them a smaller target for what was coming. Despite the pressure building in his ears, he heard a deep rumbling sound that pummeled them both. The sky above them lit up, and Donovan held up his hand to try and block out the intense brightness. He was stunned as a huge, white-hot meteor sizzled across the sky and hit somewhere just over the horizon. Still seeing spots and swallowing against the ringing in his ears, a shock wave rolled in from the open ocean. Pieces of concrete sheared off the building, peppering Donovan’s head and back. The sound of shattering glass mixed with the distant sound of car alarms and the panicked screams of people beyond his sight were all he could hear. More meteors whistled down from above, plunging into Monterey Bay and throwing up geysers of water as the superheated elements exploded upon contact with the cold Pacific Ocean.

  Diesel smoke poured from the Buckley’s stacks and water boiled from the stern as the ship accelerated and turned hard out to sea. Donovan was momentarily confused as to why the Buckley would leave, until the reason registered, and he pulled Shannon to her feet.

  “What are we doing?” she asked, confused.

  “We have to move.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there’s a tsunami coming.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “DAMN IT!” MICHAEL’S eyes were locked on the instrument panel. “The engine is still burning. Keep working on Rick. We’re flying, but we’re in trouble. I have to get us on the ground. Now.”

  Lauren tried to visualize the trajectory of whatever hit Rick. She figured the object came in high and slightly from behind him. She’d found the entrance and exit wound in his shoulder and arm, but when she’d moved his arm aside, she discovered a second entry wound in his right thigh, and as she thought she would, an exit wound, along with an expanding pool of blood underneath.

  “I’ve got the first-aid kit. What do you need?” Montero knelt behind Lauren and opened the red carry bag.

  “Gauze, lots of it.” Lauren used both hands to quickly rip open Rick’s shirt to expose the entry wound on his shoulder.

  “Here.” Montero handed up a handful of gauze.

  “I need more,” Lauren called to Montero. She pressed hard against the shoulder wound. “Give me twice as much for the exit wound, and then I’ll need some tape.”

  They worked fast, and once the bleeding on Rick’s right arm and side had slowed, Lauren hooked her finger inside the hole in his trousers. Using all of her strength, she tore apart the material to expose the second entry wound in his thigh close to the knee. Then she reached under Rick’s leg and found the exit wound. Meantime, Montero kept ripping open packages of gauze from the first-aid kit and presenting them to Lauren, who slid them into position and pressed them against the wounds.

  “Now what?” Montero said.

  “Look for a tourniquet. Something for his thigh. We need to stop the bleeding there.”

  Lauren kept pressing Rick’s thigh wound as hard as she could.

  Michael, still focused on flying the plane, diverted his attention to ask, “How is he doing?”

  “At first I thought he was hit multiple times,” Lauren said. “But now I think a single fragment came in high and hit him in the shoulder, exited his arm, and then went clear through his thigh. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

  Montero handed Lauren a strap with a buckle attached. Lauren loosened Rick’s seat belt to create some slack in his harness. She pulled the tourniquet underneath his wounded thigh, positioned it just above the wound, snapped it together, and cinched it as tight as possible. When she checked under the gauze, Lauren was relieved the bleeding had slowed.

  Michael was next. He’d been nicked in the scalp and a small notch of his right earlobe was gone. The wound didn’t look serious, but both lacerations were bleeding.

  “Is my ear still there?” Michael said with a grimace.

  “Don’t squirm,” Lauren said as she gently touched his ear to inspect the wound.

  “Ouch, damn it, that hurts.” Michael jerked away. “It’s my earlobe, isn’t it? I’m disfigured now, aren’t I?”

  “It’s nothing a big earring won’t hide,” Montero said as she handed Lauren a small section of gauze and some tape.

  “Thanks,” Michael said. “Maybe I could get a matching nose ring as well?”

  Lauren had always loved Michael’s humor, and she found herself momentarily caught between a smile and tears. If Michael could fire off a joke while flying a burning Gulfstream, then maybe it wasn’t the end of the world. Michael was one of the most resilient men Lauren had ever met, and over the years, Donovan had reiterated that Michael was one of the best pilots he’d ever seen. But at this moment, Michael looked worried as he alternately looked out the windshield, searching, and then turned his attention back to the partially operating instrument panel.

  “What can I do?” Lauren asked.

  Michael turned toward her. “What few instruments I have tell me the engine is still burning. Salinas is dead ahead. I wanted to land there, but there’s a fire midfield, blocking the runways. Monterey is just beyond.”

  Lauren looked at what lay out in front of them. The Salinas airport was just off the nose. A blackened oblong crater bisected the runway all the way to the ramp, where a string of parked planes, vehicles, and buildings lay destroyed and burning. Farther ahead, she spotted Monterey. Dark smoke rose from a dozen or more distinct sections of the city, with more smoke climbing into the sky to the south. Intermittent flashes told her that the fires were no doubt spreading, feeding and growing, as they consumed everything flammable.

  “How long until we’re down?” Lauren asked.

  “Less than ten minutes,” Michael replied. “I need you to secure Rick as best you can.”

  Lauren started tucking Rick’s hands underneath his shoulder straps to keep them from flying around at touchdown. Montero zipped up the first-aid kit and stowed it in the forward closet. Michael gave both women a quick nod of appr
oval. Rick was as secure as they could make him. Lauren made one more check of his wound. The tourniquet seemed to be working.

  “I’ve got this,” Michael said. “Get to the back, and don’t get out of your seats until we’ve come to a complete stop. I’m not kidding. I don’t know if the gear or flaps are going to come down. This could get ugly in a hurry.”

  Lauren leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Michael was doing what he did best. She trailed Montero to the rearmost seats and strapped in tightly. Lauren was doing her best to control her fear. As they descended, Lauren started smelling the smoke billowing from multiple points near the airport. She saw flames reaching high above the houses and buildings, curling and flaring brighter as they expanded and intensified. She heard the landing gear swing into place, though she had no idea if it was down and locked. She memorized the emergency exits and dug her fingers a little farther into her seat.

  “The gear sounded normal, right?” Montero asked.

  “We’re going to be fine. We’ve got Michael being Michael, and he’s going to get us on the ground in one piece,” Lauren said as she braced herself, helpless to do anything about her fight or flight impulse but sit and wait for the wheels to touch.

  The Gulfstream rode through the low-level turbulence and drew closer to the ground. Lauren’s legs quivered with exertion as she braced her feet for impact. Michael brought the remaining engine to idle, and a glimpse of the runway appeared beneath the wing. She held her breath as the main gear touched the runway. She waited, almost anticipating the sound of screeching metal, or the muffled explosion of blown tires. Instead, she felt her seat belt dig into her abdomen as Michael leaned heavily on the Gulfstream’s brakes.