“This is just so frustrating.” Shannon hung her head, seemingly to collect herself. “This golf course, is it one of those right next to the ocean? If William was still there, what are the chances he’s—we were almost killed, how can you stand there and be so damned calm?”
Donovan held out his right hand; it was shaking. “I might be a little calmer than you on the outside, but I’m just as angry and frustrated by what’s happened as you are. I saw the dead people. It’s a complete catastrophe out there. You have every right to be upset. As for William, the course weaves along the shore near some cliffs. I think there’s a reasonable chance he could have escaped the worst. Which is why I have to go.”
“Oh my God, it all happened so fast. There was no warning, no nothing. People panicked—like a human stampede. The people standing on top of the building as it collapsed—they never had a chance.”
“Pebble Beach is far less populated than Cannery Row. You know, Buck told me once that there is never an absence of fear in these situations, and those who manage that fear the best are likely to be the survivors. I always remembered those words because I think he was right.”
At the mention of Buck, Shannon’s shoulders slumped and she crossed her arms in front or her and began to shake, tears rolling down her cheeks. “He’d be furious if he could see me unraveling like this. I’m supposed to be his rough and tumble girl from the mountains of Montana, not some crybaby.”
“I say you get a pass on any character judgments after being rained on by meteorites and then being thrashed by a tsunami. From where I stand, you were great. You never hesitated, you got us on the roof of the aquarium, and from there we made it here. Considering the number of people who didn’t survive, I’d say we did okay.”
“God, I could use a drink.” Shannon held out her hands. They were shaking worse than Donovan’s.
“We’ll have that drink once we’re on the Buckley. Maybe more than one,” Donovan said, relieved that she’d moved through the initial shock and was once again focused on survival. He sat down on the bar and slid down into the water, which was now mid-thigh. “If we can make it two or three more blocks up the hill, we’ll have put the tsunami behind us. Then we can start our search for a car that hasn’t been underwater.”
Shannon ignored Donovan’s offered hand as she slipped into the water. He opened the front door and led the way out onto the sidewalk. Another building was burning farther up the hill, the smoke starting to block the sunlight, casting a surreal glow over the scene. Donovan glanced to the west toward the setting sun and understood that it was going to get dark fast.
“We need to move away from the fires,” he said. “Let’s cross the street and then go one block over and see if we can get up the hill that way.”
As they pushed through the water, dodging the floating debris, Donovan kept glancing up into the sky. Shannon was right. He hadn’t heard any emergency vehicles. He expected there would be helicopters or airplanes aloft, but there was nothing but empty sky. He wondered where Lauren was and how he was going to get word to her that he was safe. He thought of his daughter, Abigail, whom he loved more than words, and how close he’d been to bringing her on this trip. Thankfully, there was an equestrian event that she desperately wanted to attend, and Lauren’s mom stepped in to watch his daughter back home in Virginia.
“This street looks good,” Shannon said as they came to an intersection.
Donovan shook off his thoughts of what might have been and glanced up and down the block. To their left, between them and the ocean, cars and tons of wooden wreckage blockaded the street, leaving a clear boundary where the tsunami had run out of energy. In the other direction was a quiet, tree-lined road that led up the hill. Wordlessly, they made the right turn, and when they reached the next intersection, Donovan spotted the familiar sign. The business he’d hoped to find intact was still there, and he allowed himself a tiny smile.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“DR. MCKENNA?” A tall man in a suit walked out of the sliding glass doors of Pacific Jet Center and headed in their direction.
Lauren slowed, as did Montero. The man was clean-cut, in that certain way that identified him as law enforcement, not what Lauren wanted to deal with right now.
“Dr. McKenna, I’m Fredrick Price, Homeland Security. I was advised to be on the lookout for an Eco-Watch helicopter, and that hopefully, you’d be on board. I have a message for you to contact a Mr. Calvin Reynolds at the Defense Intelligence Agency. Follow me. You’re supposed to call him the second you land.”
Lauren held her position and allowed Price to walk away without her.
“Mr. Price,” Montero said. “Dr. McKenna will be the one who will organize her priorities, not you.”
Price stopped and turned. “Ms. Montero? I was briefed that you were part of the Eco-Watch team now. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“I’m Director of Security for Eco-Watch, and we have concerns that demand our immediate attention.”
Price remained undeterred. “Look, I’m just trying to help the few people we have in there trying to piece together what’s happened. We have a full-blown disaster in the making. Many of our satellites are down, and the few we can reach belong to the Department of Defense. Dr. McKenna, you’re DOD, not Eco-Watch, and we need you. There’s a makeshift operations center being set up in one of the Jet Center’s conference rooms. Will you at least come with me and talk to these people and see if you can help them?”
“I’ll do that after I get cleaned up, if you’ll do something for me,” Lauren said.
“I’ll try.”
“I need to work around the no-fly zone.”
“That specific order came from Washington, but I’ll see what I can do. This way, Dr. McKenna.” As they entered the main lobby, he gestured for her to follow him down a carpeted hallway. “The washroom is the second door on the right. The conference room is further down the hallway.”
Lauren walked out of the ladies room, relieved to have cleaned the blood from her hands. She pushed into the conference room, and it instantly felt like a familiar setting. Though not the modern nerve center she had at the Defense Intelligence Agency, this room reminded her of any number of field offices she’d worked out of all around the world. In the middle, two tables were pushed together to accommodate dozens of large paper charts. To her right, a large map of the United States covered one wall. On the opposite side, two tables were buried with computer monitors, servers, printers, and at least four multi-line phones. What she didn’t understand was the lack of people. One man, youngish, with thinning blond hair and glasses, sat in front of one of the computer screens, furiously typing in short staccato bursts. The other occupant was an older, heavyset man dressed in a suit and tie. He looked to be in his late forties with wavy salt and pepper hair and a closely trimmed beard gone gray. Intelligent blue eyes gave him an intrinsic warmth, offset by the concerned expression etched on his face. When he spotted her, he quickly ended a call on his cell phone.
“I’m Ernest Rincon, Cal Fire Deputy Director of Fire Protection Programs. You must be Dr. McKenna with the Defense Intelligence Agency? I know you by reputation only, but I’m awfully glad you’re here.”
Lauren instantly liked the man. He seemed unaffected by political posturing and gave her a welcoming smile. She shook his outstretched hand. “Where is everyone else? I know a little about fighting fires, and it isn’t usually by two people in a conference room at the local airport.”
“You’re right,” Rincon said as he nodded. “My office and staff are in Sacramento. I was on my way back from a business trip in Seattle when everything happened. The plane landed here, and Agent Price brought me over here from the terminal to start making phone calls. As we learned how widespread the damage was, Pacific Jet Center set us up with what they had on hand. The forward fire base is assembling at a point closer to Monterey. I’m hoping to join them there as soon as possible.”
“Mr. Rincon, I might be able to help you with
that. Plus, I’ve just seen firsthand some of the meteor damage done near Salinas and Monterey. We also witnessed the initial surge of the tsunami from Monterey to Santa Cruz.”
“We have no real-time intelligence coming out of the Monterey Peninsula right now, and haven’t since the initial impacts. All power and communication is out. What can you tell me about the tsunami, and what’s the condition of the Monterey airport?”
“I need to reach Calvin Reynolds at DIA headquarters. Homeland Security said he’s looking for me. Can you help me do that? If I can have a phone, a map of the area, and a pen and paper, I’ll be able to give you a proper briefing on much more than what I’ve seen.”
Rincon turned to the young man seated at the computer. “Alan, can you find Dr. McKenna an office with a phone, as well as everything else she needs?”
“Yes, sir.” Alan shot to his feet.
“Mr. Rincon, I wouldn’t count on the viability of the Monterey airport for much longer. What I can tell you now is that there were large fires near the airport perimeter. The terminal building is unusable and the control tower appeared damaged. Also, as we flew in over the Salinas airport, we saw that the runways had been hit and there were dozens of small aircraft burning.”
“I know about the Salinas airport.” Rincon stroked his beard as he thought. “The tsunami damage you witnessed—was the surge strong enough to take out Highway One north of Monterey and Seaside?”
“Yes, a sizeable section of the road is completely unusable,” Lauren said.
“How far inland did the tsunami travel?” Rincon asked.
“I saw it compromise the highway, flood a shopping area, and sweep up hundreds of cars and trucks, pushing them into an industrial park. It also breached the banks of an existing lake, which extended its reach inland. The biggest surge was north of Seaside, in what looked like a floodplain connected to a river.”
“I know the area. There are two watersheds that empty into the Bay; one is near the power plant at Moss Landing.”
“Nuclear?” Lauren asked.
“Thankfully, no, though it does burn natural gas.”
“Dr. McKenna,” Alan called from the doorway. “I have an office set up for you.”
“Thank you. I’ll be right there,” Lauren called out. She turned back to Rincon. “I’ll find you after I make my calls.”
Lauren followed Alan to a private office. He handed her a bottle of water as she sat down and spread out a map of the Monterey Peninsula, arranged her paper, and then dialed Calvin’s direct line. “Calvin, it’s Lauren.”
“Oh, dear God, Lauren, finally,” Calvin said as a greeting. “I’ve been worried sick. I heard the Gulfstream you were in lost radio contact, then disappeared from San Francisco’s radar. I couldn’t help but imagine the worst. Where are you?”
“I’m fine, Calvin, I really am. I’m at the San Jose airport.” Lauren appreciated his concern. They’d been friends since her days at MIT. He managed to convince her to join the Defense Intelligence Agency as a civilian contractor, and she’d never regretted working for him. She loved Calvin like a father. “I’m alive, thanks for worrying.”
“I tried calling Donovan, but I couldn’t reach him either. He’s out on the Buckley, isn’t he?”
“No, we’re not sure exactly where he is.” Lauren didn’t want to get too far into the subject. Each time she thought about Donovan, her emotional control seemed to dwindle. “Calvin, I have to tell you, this is a complete shit show here. Tell me everything that’s happened.”
“You’ve only witnessed a fraction of the complete event, and it’s worse than you know,” Calvin said. “We never saw this meteor coming. The initial collisions with multiple Earth-orbiting satellites was our first warning we were about to be hit. The impacts started a cascade event, which served to break the meteor into dozens of pieces. So, naturally, along with the meteor, we also have man-made space debris entering the atmosphere. The loss of our orbital assets is adding to our problems. We’ve tracked impacts from Idaho all the way out into the Pacific Ocean—hundreds of them, maybe thousands. From the data I’ve seen, Monterey Peninsula is the hardest hit.”
“A large section of meteor impacted off the coast and spawned a tsunami,” Lauren said. “Is the worst of it over? How many more satellites have deteriorating orbits?”
“We’re still trying to assess the scope of the space debris that may or may not reenter the atmosphere.”
“Calvin, these people are in trouble. The debris falling from space didn’t just start fires, the objects blew huge craters when they hit, so the damage goes far underground. We’ve had a tsunami wipe out a major evacuation route. Hundreds of fires are burning. Monterey, Oceanside, and Pacific Grove are virtually gone, burning out of control, and from what I saw firsthand, all essential services are gone.”
“I know, I’ve already spoken with the Pentagon. This thing is big and going to get far worse before it gets better.”
“Meaning?”
“We’re losing command of many of our satellites. Not only are we going to be without the data and services they provide, we have no idea where they’re going to come down once their orbits deteriorate.”
“So there could be more impacts, more fires?” Lauren asked.
“We have no way to know.”
“So, the answer is yes.”
“Just promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“If the situation gets out of control, you’ll fly out to the Buckley, and leave the area.”
“I will, and thanks again for looking out for me,” Lauren said, though in her heart, she couldn’t imagine sailing away without Donovan and the others.
“I know the odds are small that you’ll actually do it, but thanks for allowing me to indulge in a little overprotectiveness. If something ever happened to you, I’d never forgive myself,” Calvin said.
“I’ll be careful, I promise.”
“I can work with that, though I have to go,” Calvin said. “Keep me posted, and I’ll do the same.”
Lauren hung up, then collected herself as she dialed her mother’s phone number.
“Hello.”
“Mom, it’s me. How are things going?”
“We’re fine. Abigail is in the den curled up watching a movie, but at last glance, she’d fallen asleep.”
“Let her sleep.” Lauren ached to talk to her daughter and searched for the right words to say to her mother. “There’s been a disaster in the Monterey Peninsula, a meteor strike. I’m fine, but I haven’t heard from Donovan or William since I arrived.”
“Oh, Lauren, we had no idea. We haven’t had the news on since dinner. Where are you now? How are you doing? What can I do to help?”
“Abigail doesn’t need to hear about this tonight. By morning maybe I’ll have heard from Donovan. Either way, I’ll call before you and Abigail leave for the equestrian center. In the meantime, you might get up to speed on events. You know how Abigail is. Once she hears the news report, she’s going to start asking questions.”
“Believe me, I know. Can I call you back on this number?”
“No, it’s a borrowed phone,” Lauren said. “You can try my cell, but the power is out all over the place. Leave me a message, and I’ll get it at some point. As always, you have Calvin’s number if there’s anything urgent.”
“We’ll be fine, but please, promise me you’ll get somewhere safe and take care of yourself.”
“I will,” Lauren said. “I love you, and I’ll talk to you soon.”
The instant she hung up the phone she took a deep breath, finished her water, and then began to hone Calvin’s data down into information Rincon and Cal Fire could use. Lauren replayed Calvin’s words as she headed for the conference room, trying to get a full grasp on the scope of events. Thousands of impacts, space-based platforms in disarray, and the possibility of more meteors. Rincon wasn’t going to like what she had to say.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE AUTO BODY rep
air shop was tucked back from the road, nearly hidden from view by larger buildings. Donovan had spotted the sign, and now he and Shannon were standing in front of the locked office. They walked to the side, where a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire cordoned off the back lot filled with wrecked cars awaiting their turn at redemption.
Donovan studied the enclosure and decided on the best place to scale the fence.
“Here, let me,” Shannon said, and before Donovan had a foothold, Shannon effortlessly climbed to where the chain link met the barbed wire. “Toss me your jacket.”
Donovan underhanded the soaked garment and Shannon caught it. She spread it over the barbs and crawled to the other side. She eyed her landing area and dropped softly to the ground.
“Two cars in.” Donovan motioned. “The red BMW 325 with the smashed rear end—see if there’s a tool kit attached to the inside of the trunk lid.”
“I have it!” Shannon called. “There’s not much here besides a screwdriver, a pair of pliers, and some wrenches.”
“Okay,” Donovan said. “See if you can pull up the carpet. There will be a piece of fiberboard beneath that.”
“Is this what you want?” Shannon held up a tire iron and raised her head out of the trunk.
“Bring everything,” Donovan said. They now had their way inside the shop.
Shannon handed Donovan the tools through the fence.
“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” Donovan said. He hurried to the front of the building, planted his left foot, and swung the tire iron against the front door. The thick safety glass spider-webbed outward, and with the second blow, the glass exploded inward and an alarm sounded. Donovan stepped into the waiting room and, with one more swing of the tire iron, stripped the plastic alarm control from the wall. The alarm went silent as the batteries rolled across the office floor.
As Donovan headed through the garage to let Shannon inside, he quickly assessed the cars in the bays. The first was disassembled, a Mercedes. There was a Porsche 911 that looked ready. Another vehicle, a Toyota Roadster, needed two rear quarter panels, tires, and paint. The last vehicle was a Ford F-250 pickup. He reached the door, slid the heavy bolt, and pushed it open to allow Shannon access.
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