Broken Tide | Book 1 | Overfall

by Richardson, Marcus

  “What?” asked the captain, Ben, and Reese at once.

  “We need to get back to port and get on that plane,” Eddie persisted.

  The radio squawked to life before Reese could respond: “Mayday, mayday, mayday! This is MV SeaStar. MV SeaStar declaring an emergency! I repeat, MV SeaStar declaring an emergency! The wave is making landfall near Yarmouth…”

  Reese watched the captain and Eddie share a look as the transmission broke up into static, then the captain turned back to the touchscreen consoles in front of him and tapped a few glowing icons. The Charming Betty continued to cut through the water like a knife, but the captain increased the throttle to the redline.

  “…we’re getting pulled into shore, we can’t break free! The water…”

  The radio chirped again with an incoming message. “MV SeaStar, this is US Coast Guard Station Rockland, roger your mayday—please respond.”

  “Where’s that ship?” asked Reese into the silence between transmissions.

  “MV SeaStar, come in, please—this is Coast Guard Rockland. Say again, MV SeaStar?

  The captain glanced down at his displays, then brought his gaze back to the rough water ahead of them. “Yarmouth—that’s the southern tip of Nova Scotia. She’s not on my charts, so probably a freighter—she’s a good ways east of here.”

  “Can’t be that far east if the Coast Guard is picking them up out of Rockland, right?” asked Reese.

  The captain picked up the microphone hanging in a little cradle next to the ship’s wheel. When he pushed the transmit button, the speakers mounted around the ship beeped an alert tone. “This is the captain,” he said, his accent echoing outside. “All hands, clear the decks and prepare for some rough water. Everyone else, I’m sorry we’re having to cut the cruise a little short. Please get to a seat and hang on, the ride could get a little bumpy before long.”

  “Shouldn’t we head north?” asked Reese, pointing at the digital charts. “To Maine?”

  “Reese, let’s get out of the bridge and let Captain Holson do his thing,” Eddie said, trying to usher Reese from the captain’s presence.

  “Eddie, what is it?” asked Reese, once they’d stepped outside and grabbed onto a pair of wet handrails. The captain wasn’t kidding around—the boat plowed through the gentle waves rather than gliding over them. Salt spray, wind, and the roar from the outboards assaulted his senses, but he tried to focus on Eddie’s stony face.

  “Reese, we’ve got to get back to Green Harbor. If we land somewhere in Maine, we’ll be stranded—corporate already dispatched a jet to get me, and it’s plenty big to get us all to safety.”

  Reese frowned. “That won’t work, Eddie.” He held up his phone, but his boss didn’t bother looking. “We’re too far out, and the wave is moving too fast.” Reese said, pointing east over their spreading wake. “You heard the radio—there’s a freighter out there that’s already getting hit.”

  Ben appeared at Reese’s side, stumbling into the railing as the boat lurched through another whitecap, showering them with cool spray. He spit the saltwater out of his mouth and wiped his face. “There’s two more boats out there declaring emergencies, now. I think the wave is bigger than the Coast Guard said.”

  Reese looked at his phone again, struggling to hold the screen steady. The blood-red lines representing the first tsunami pulses racing across the Atlantic continued to plow into the eastern seaboard starting at the T+6.5 hour mark. “We’re not gonna make it to Green Harbor,” he muttered.

  He shook his head to clear salt spray from his eyes. They couldn’t head southwest toward Green Harbor, Massachusetts. They needed to make for land now. And the closest land was Maine. He had to get back to Cami and Amber. He had to get off this boat…

  “Look,” Eddie began, “corporate wants—”

  “I don’t care what they want,” Reese snapped. “We can’t run before a wave going that fast! It’s moving at almost 600 miles an hour, Eddie. We’re doing 35 knots at best—you do the math!” Reese turned away from Eddie when a splash of foam washed over them. “That thing will catch us long before we get back.” He ran a hand through his wet hair in frustration. “It’ll be hours before we reach Green Harbor…”

  “Reese, settle down,” Eddie warned.

  “Settle down?” Reese choked in reply. He laughed. “Settle down?” He turned away from Eddie—he had to think. He had to get ashore and get back to Cami and Amber. They were alone in South Carolina, just north of Charleston. That was a long, long way away. Reese shoved past Ben and ignored his friend’s arguments about what corporate told Eddie. His regional VP may be the next big thing at TechSafe HQ, but Reese wasn’t going to bet his life on Eddie’s nautical abilities. He moved up next to the captain again, grabbing onto a support strut for the flying bridge. At least in the bridge they were shielded from the spray and most of the noise.

  Eddie and Ben followed, along with a few other guys from the aft deck. “Reese, Captain Holson knows what he’s doing,” Eddie argued, employing his trademarked elder statesman’s voice to take command. “Let’s leave him to it.”

  “We’ll never make Green Harbor and you know it,” Reese said to the captain.

  “Reese, please let the captain do his job,” Eddie warned. “I’d hate to have to call Nick and explain that you were interfering with the evacuation…”

  Reese blinked at the bald threat to contact TechSafe’s chief executive. “Are you serious?”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?” Eddie demanded.

  Reese turned away from Eddie and focused on the captain. If he was going to throw away his career, he wasn’t going to pull any more punches. Cami whispered in his mind: Go big or go home…

  “Captain, we have to head north,” Reese said, pointing starboard. “Maine’s coast is a lot closer than Green Harbor—we have to get off the water as soon as possible. If it’s already hitting Nova Scotia, we’re right in the wave’s path.”

  Find high ground, Cami’s voice urged. You’ve got to get above the wave before it hits.

  “I warned you, Reese,” Eddie said over his shoulder. “Jimmy.” The other award winners parted, letting Jimmy and his wrap-around Oakleys come closer. “Help me get Reese off the bridge so the captain can concentrate.”

  “That’s not necessary, Mr. Morenez,” Captain Holson interjected.

  “Come on, Reese…” Jimmy, the wide-shouldered brute, said as he moved close, as if to intimidate by his very presence.

  Reese was sweating through the cold salt spray but couldn’t stop thinking about Cami and Amber. By now, he was sure they’d have heard of the tsunami and would be worried sick. He had a duty to get back to them, and he wasn’t about to let some crop-haired wannabe Navy SEAL get in his way. He turned to the captain.

  “North is our only chance,” he pleaded with Holson. “Get us to Maine!”

  “That’s it—the only place you’re going is out of here,” Jimmy said, putting a meathook of a hand on Reese’s shoulder. Sausage-like fingers tightened with a vice grip.

  “Get off me—captain, turn north!” Reese looked at the digital chart on the screen in front of the captain as Jimmy pulled him back. “There! That’s Mount Desert Island! It’s right there—”

  “Jimmy, now please,” Eddie commanded.

  “Let’s go,” barked Jimmy. He jerked—hard—and Reese toppled to the deck.

  “Hey!” Reese complained, struggling in vain with the mountain of muscle.

  “Jimmy, back off, man,” Ben said, trying to inject some reason into the scuffle.

  Everyone started shouting at once. Eddie yelled at the captain to maintain course and speed, Ben yelled at Jimmy, the crew shouted at the passengers, who mostly closed ranks around Eddie and seemed to treat Reese like the enemy.

  Reese got to his feet. Jimmy grabbed him again and heaved. Reese found himself thrown to the deck back by the outboards, skidding to a stop on the salt-slick teak decking when he crunched against the fiberglass hull. He got up, rubbing his
lower back and trying not to fall over again with the boat’s bucking movement. He felt like he was making a passage through the Straits of Magellan, not heading back to Massachusetts.

  Jimmy stood at the entrance to the bridge, facing Reese with his feet spread wide and his arms crossed. The man looked like he’d been attached to the deck. How did he stand there without holding on to something?

  “You gotta let me back in there,” Reese tried.

  Jimmy’s impassive face didn’t so much as twitch. “Not unless Eddie says so.”

  Reese rubbed his face, resisting the urge to scream. It was like reasoning with a five-year old. “Eddie’s going to kill us all! Can’t you see that?” He pointed east. “If that wave is as big as they say it is, and moving as fast—”

  “Look, Reese, I’m worried, too—but let’s just stay out of the captain’s way so we can get home, okay?”

  The bow dipped, then the Charming Betty dug into the water hard to starboard as the rudder turned the ship north at an obscene angle. Jimmy flew off his feet and slammed into the port rail, his arms in the water as a wave slapped the side of the hull. He doubled over and would’ve flipped into the ocean if Reese hadn’t scrambled forward and latched onto the man’s tree-stump legs.

  The engines roared back to full throttle out of the turn and the bow lifted up. Jimmy and Reese tumbled together to the transom in a knot of arms, legs, and curses. Reese lay there for a moment, groaning. His back had slammed against the hull again. Jimmy got to his hands and knees, bleeding from a cut to his forehead. He’d lost his fancy sunglasses and his face dripped pink-tinged seawater. He turned his wide eyes on Reese. “You…you just saved my life.”

  Reese slapped him on the shoulder and tried to smile, but it came across more like a grimace. “Out here, we’re on the same team—us against the ocean. And right now, the ocean is doing her best to kill us all.”

  “Was that it?” asked Jimmy looking around. “Did we make it past the tidal wave?”

  Reese got to his feet and wiped spray from his face. “Tsunami. And no, we just changed course. This is just normal ocean chop. Hopefully we’re nowhere near the tsunami yet…”

  “What?” asked Jimmy, feeling his head and looking down at his hand, covered in blood. “Eddie said—”

  “We’re heading north,” Reese blurted, smiling as he took in the L-shaped wake behind them. He shouldered past Jimmy to get a better look. “There’s land!” he said, pointing forward.

  Mount Desert Island was just a smudge of brown-green on the horizon, but when they rose up over the waves, he could just barely see the tip of Cadillac Mountain. Crashing back down into a trough, the island vanished behind the water once more.

  “But our cars are in Green Harbor,” Jimmy yelled over the engines.

  Reese shook his head. “There’s no time to get there. We either ride out the wave on the water, or we have to get to shore, right now!” He wanted to go back to the bridge, but judging by the arguing between Eddie, the captain, and Ben, there would be little point.

  Reese leaned forward, willing the miles to fly by as the boat raced for shore at 35 knots. He closed his eyes to calculate. They were only what, ten minutes—at most—from land? He opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder. Would it be enough?

  He froze and stared east. The far horizon looked…off. It shimmered, like a mirage. He didn’t see a Hollywood-esque tower of water racing forward—this far out from land, the tsunami would be measured in inches, not feet—but that mirage-like effect told him everything he needed to know. A ripple of water that stretched horizon to horizon rushed at them with the speed of a passenger jet. Their time was up.

  “Oh no…” he breathed.

  Chapter 4

  Charleston, South Carolina

  Cami’s level of alertness rose a notch as they stepped off the bridge over the marina. The stream of boats below the bridge, both powered and sail, grew thicker as more people made to escape to the sea some ten miles away on the other side of the Charleston peninsula.

  On land, people stood in front of shops and watched cars parked in the traffic. Everywhere Cami looked, people were on phones or looking at phones—in cars, on sidewalks, in chairs by little outdoor cafes, on benches and in crosswalks. Everyone stared at phones.

  “Mom...” Amber said quietly. “What’s going on?”

  Cami pulled Amber down the street through the growing pedestrian traffic. “This way, it’s right there at the corner.” They were still on the extreme western edge of Charleston, and probably out of the danger zone, but she couldn’t resist getting a few more supplies before running for the hills. Especially since the shop was right there.

  They caught snippets of conversation from people as they walked. Most voices were raised, to talk over the traffic noise.

  “...unbelievable...”

  “...can’t be real...”

  “...it’s all fake news...”

  “We’ve got to hurry—I know where the car is, let’s go!”

  “...no, I’ll meet you there…”

  “...some stupid tidal wave...that kind of stuff never hits over here.”

  At last Cami and Amber fought their way through the growing crowd and entered the deserted camping and outdoor adventure supply store. The door closed with a little chime behind them and the noise from outside, while still above normal levels, was blissfully muted.

  “Sorry, we’re closing early—oh, hey Cami-san!” a bearded, bean-pole of a young man said from behind the counter across the show room. He moved quickly around some merchandise to shake hands.

  Amber watched with eyebrows raised to her hairline. “Friend of yours, mom?”

  “Amber, honey, this is Mitchell Adams. Remember him?”

  “Last time I saw you, you were what...here?” Mitch asked, holding his hand palm down about at the bottom of his ribcage. He stood a good six inches taller than Cami.

  “You two used to play together when your father and I would come in to get provisions for that floating money pit of his. You remember the Ashley Marina? Mitchell’s dad ran the place for years.”

  “Still does,” Mitch said, grinning.

  Amber narrowed her eyes. “Wait...Mitchell? Mitchy-mitch? From the docks?”

  Mitch laughed, a gut busting, hearty sound that brought an instant smile to Cami’s face. “The same!”

  Amber’s face split into a wide grin. “Oh my gosh, it’s been so long—I didn’t even recognize you! And the beard! What’s up, Grizzly Adams?”

  Mitch ran his fingers through the tangled bush on his chin. “Grew it the last time we were in Yellowstone a few years back. Kinda just became a thing, I guess.” The smile faded from his face. “So, what brings y’all in here? I just got word to close up...”

  “I wanted to get some more things, you know, top off my supplies,” Cami said, reaching for a hand basket from the tidy stack at the end of the counter. “Is that okay? If you’re closing—”

  “No problemo, Cami-san,” Mitch said in a laid back voice that would be more appropriate if he’d had a surfboard tucked under one arm. “Amber, could you turn the ‘open’ sign around on the door there and hit the lock? Thanks, mi amiga.” He clapped his hands. “Well, come on, ladies, y’all can have the pick of the store while I finish closing up in the back.”

  “Membership has its privileges,” Cami muttered to Amber as they followed the lanky youth.

  “How’s your dad?” called Amber as Cami started shopping.

  “Oh, he’s cool. Got his hands busy with the marina right now, you know?”

  “There were a lot of boats moving around out there,” Amber said as the two of them moved toward the back of the store.

  Cami went straight to the freeze-dried camping foods and began to empty the shelves, throwing everything she could into the hand basket. She only half paid attention to Amber and Mitch’s conversation. He was telling her about their fathers hanging out at the marina in the good old days. As they reminisced about adventures down
by the docks on summer vacations long ago, Cami set her full hand basket on the counter and grabbed another.

  She slipped over into the miscellaneous gear aisle and tossed in bundles of rope, tent stakes, and a new hatchet, then moved into the fishing aisle. Spools of mid- and high-test line went in the basket, along with a few assorted packs of lures and synthetic worms, weights, bobbers, and hooks. She grabbed two hi-end collapsible fishing pole kits and added them to the stack.

  Cami looked at the two baskets on the counter. Reese would kill her if things turned out just fine and she ended up spending all this money for nothing. “No, not for nothing,” she muttered. If everything blew over—as she hoped—all the gear and supplies she bought today would easily fit right into her normal expenses for the guide season coming up in the fall. It just meant less shopping later.

  Cami frowned, staring at the local maps and trail guides. On the other hand, if she was right and a mega-tsunami did hit...there might not be any shopping for a long, long time. At least not by the coast.

  “...taking things pretty serious, you know?” Mitch said as he and Amber returned to the front of the store.

  Flashing lights lit up the store as a cop car slowly worked its way east toward the coast, loudspeakers blaring. Though muffled, the cop’s voice was clear over the din outside. “...urging everyone to evacuate the city at this time. Governor Wilson has ordered a mandatory evacuation of all coastal cities and towns. Please leave as soon as possible. Emergency services will not be available to anyone who refuses to leave. The mayor is urging everyone to evacuate the city at this time. Governor Wilson has ordered a mandatory evacuation of all coastal cities...”

  “Yeah...I think it’s serious,” Mitch said to Amber. “You about done, Cami-san? I wanna get outta here, you know?”

  “Yeah,” Cami said, hands on her hips. “I guess this’ll do it.”

  “Hey, because it’s you,” Mitch said, his teeth flashing in his bushy beard, “I’ll give y’all my employee discount. Sound good?”

  “Sounds great,” Cami said, smiling.