Coastal Event Memories

by A. G. Kimbrough

  Memories

  of the

  Coastal Event

  By

  A. G. Kimbrough

  Copyright © 2012

  KDP Edition

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilog

  Prologue

  The middle-aged woman opened a small drawer of a built-in cabinet. “Mom, what do you want to do with this old laptop?”

  The older woman paused, and said, “Plug it in to see if it will still take a charge while we finish packing.”

  Moving ashore, off the Wild Goose, after all these years, was hard. So many memories, of friends, lovers, children, and events filled her thoughts. It seemed like yesterday when her Dad took her by the hand and led her up the gangplank for the first time.

  Her daughter placed the last box in the cart and turned on the laptop. “It still works!” She waited for Windows to open and looked at the screen.

  “Is this your journal?” She asked.

  Rebecca looked closely, and said “I haven’t done anything with it for years. I started it when we were driving out from North Carolina.”

  “Mom, you have been worried about being bored, now that the Wild Goose is going to be scrapped. Please write your history. We have lots of records about the time before the Event, but no one in your generation has had time to record what happened since then.”

  Rebecca protested that she is not a historian, her daughter countered with: “You are one of the last ones to have lived it. Your grandkids and the generations that follow need to know our heritage.

  With a feeling of uncertainty, Rebecca agreed to start compiling her story.

  Chapter 1

  The first memory of my Dad, Delbert Thompson, was a soldier, on crutches, who came to the door of our motel room. Mom’s current boyfriend answered the knock, and after a brief verbal confrontation, stood aside and Dad entered the room.

  Mom was still in bed, and I stood beside her. She looked at me and said “Becky, this is your Daddy. He has come back from the war. I guess he is a hero, or something.”

  That day was special. Dad took me on a ferry ride to Southport, and we ate hamburgers at little place in the harbor.

  Over the next year, Dad took me every weekend for an adventure. He had a small apartment and worked as a cook on the night shift and a boat mechanic during the days.

  I had just finished the first grade, and Dad was so proud when I graduated. He took me out for ice cream, and I almost forgot that Mom did not get up when it was time for me to go. When Dad brought me back to the motel Sunday night, no one would answer the door. After Dad got the manager to open it, he wouldn’t let me inside.

  Our lives changed that day. Dad told me that Mom had been sick, and that she had passed away. We were the only one’s there for the brief service. Dad told me that it was time to move on and build a new life in California. We left the day after Mom’s service. Dad had an old blue van and it was crammed full with all our stuff.

  The trip was long and mostly boring. Dad had loaded several books for me in his old laptop, and I quickly became immersed in the worlds that reading brought me.

  Dad also showed me how to keep a diary on the laptop. He called it a journal, but I was happy to be able to record all of my private thoughts and feelings. I started writing a little bit every night before I went to bed.

  Most of the time we would stay in campgrounds, where Dad would fix a tarp to the side of the van. We met a lot of interesting people. In Arizona, Dad helped an older guy fix the motor on his RV. The couple, Roger and Carol Dungan were nice and gave us some cookies. She gave Dad a card, and told him to give her a call when we were settled in Southern California.

  When we finally arrived in Los Angeles, it was hot and smoggy. The next morning we drove on down to Long Beach, where it was overcast and nice and cool. Dad rented a small apartment and started looking for a job.

  He went to work for a boat yard and I started the second grade that fall. One weekend, we went over to the Dungan’s condo in Seal Beach and had supper on their patio. The next weekend we returned except that Dad brought the food and cooked for us all. They had been on their first road trip in their RV when we met. They were getting ready to retire, and planed to spend a few years on the road in their RV.

  That fall, they invited us to meet them at a beach campground to have Thanksgiving dinner. Dad agreed, if he could bring the turkey. When we arrived, there was another couple there. While Dad finished up with the food, I got acquainted with Doc Hanson and his wife June. They were about the same age as Roger and Carol, perfect for a precocious eight-year-old to be spoiled by.

  On the way home, Dad told me that Carol had worked for the Doc for over 20 years, and that Doc was also retiring. He had ordered a big sailing yacht, and offered Dad a job. It would mean that we would live on the yacht, and sometime in the future, sail around the world on it. Dad would be responsible for maintenance and cooking, as the only full-time crewman.

  We did not move aboard until the next Spring. The Wild Goose had been built in Korea, and sailed across the Pacific by a hired crew. It was immediately taken into a local yard for modifications and final fitting out. We had a cabin forward of the galley, and I even had my own tiny room.

  Dad started home schooling me that fall, which was fine with me. The majority of the kids in my class had been Latino, and the Anglos had been frequently picked on. My red hair made me a usual target.

  The next two years were terrific. The modifications to the Goose continued, we made several trips up and down the coast, and the next year, a run to Hawaii and back. On most trips, Doc would have friends and family aboard. His Grandkids were about my age and we became good friends. Dad and I both took a SCUBA training program. He wanted to be able to clean the bottom of the Goose, and I wanted to be able to look close up at the fishes.

  Doc was planning to depart on the round the world cruise in the fall of the next year. On one evening that summer I heard Doc talking to my Dad.

  “I don’t know, the sunspot increases this year, the asteroid swarm close approach, the net bot predictions, the fat cats and bureaucrats building bunkers, the direct correlation between planetary alignments and big quakes, and the remote viewing predictions, all are indicating a major Coastal Event next year. I think we better get ready, just in case. If nothing happens, we can still make the world cruise, only a year later.”

  My Dad agreed, and I was disappointed at the delay in my chance to see the world.

  The Goose took another trip to the yard, and we lived in a motel for six months. During the spring of the following year, the holds were completely filled with lots of stuff that must have cost Doc a small fortune. The sunspot activities increased, and the Northern Lights were often visible in the sky of Southern California. Dad bought me a new laptop and I transferred all my Journal files to it.

  Every night Dad would watch the news, and I could see that he was worried. The sunspot activities were still increasing and the asteroid swarm was still approaching. The “experts” were still predicting that it would safely miss the earth, although a few were saying that a few meteor strikes might occur on or around June 15th (Now called Day 0).

  By June 10th the final supplies arrived and were stowed in the overloaded hol
ds.

  Chapter 2

  On June 13th, (now called Day –2), Doc arrived with all of his family, except his oldest daughter’s husband Eric Hall. He was on the Governor’s staff, and was still in Sacramento. We sailed that night out of Long Beach with 11 souls on board. They included: Dad and me, Doc and June, their oldest daughter April, her two boys Eric Jr. (my age), and Johnny (two years younger), their younger daughter Allison Jacobs, her husband Ben and their son Braxton (also my age), and daughter Heather (three years younger than me).

  The sky that night looked like it was on fire, even through the overcast. April Hall had a call from her husband Eric, who told her that he would be waiting out the storm with the Governor, in a bunker under the Capital Building.

  Doc set a course to put us over a hundred miles west of Catalina by the morning of the 15th (Day 0). I remember even the satellite TV reception was noisy and hard to watch.

  The next day (-1), we had to put all our electronic stuff, including my new laptop inside metal boxes. Dad even climbed the mast and took down the radar assembly. On the bridge, all the equipment was removed except a couple of boxes and one monitor. That afternoon all the sails were stowed, everything on deck was double strapped down, and two large sea anchors were set up on the bow.

  That night, the Northern Lights were vivid colors and very bright. Every few minutes another shooting star would streak across the Southern sky. Around 2:00 AM, I was awakened by a loud crash, followed by heavy wave action. Dad told me it was just a meteor impacting a few miles away, He said to go back to bed, but I was too excited to sleep. I curled up with a blanket in a corner of the Bridge, where I would be out of the way, and still able to see everything.

  The sun was not visible on the morning of the 15th (Day 0) It was dark and stormy, with bands of heavy rain showers. Dad said there were a couple of GPS satellites still working, and our system indicated a strong current was pulling the Goose Southwest at nearly 10 knots.

  We were still monitoring the radio channels, but mostly static was all we were hearing. Throughout the day, the current and the wind increased. They started receding about 5:00 PM, and by 9:00 PM it was dead calm.

  Around 11:00 PM, the current and wind direction changed to the Northwest. As both started to increase, Doc turned the bow into the wind and the two younger men set out the sea anchors.

  By 6:00 AM, the wind was over 90 knots, the rain was a solid sheet of wind driven water, and the current drift was nearly 30 knots. The Goose groaned and shook as a multitude of waves crashed over the bow. We were taking on water, but the pumps were keeping up with it.

  The fury continued for 48 hours before easing. As the wind and current died down, the rain continued harder then anyone one board had seen. The static had faded away, but we heard no transmissions on the radio.

  Life on the Goose continued, we fixed meals, ate, cleaned up, tried to study, or amuse ourselves, and understand what had happened to our world. I think the adults, particularly Mrs. Hall, had it the hardest. We kids were confident that our parents would somehow make it all right.

  The rain continued, and the GPS indicated that we were 400 miles West of San Francisco. On August first (Day 48), Dad replaced the radar antenna, and set the jib. We slowly started making our way East.

  Chapter 3

  David Russell looked like a typical surfer. He had sun bleached blond hair and stood just over six feet. He was in his third year of Electrical Engineering at UC Berkley. His parents were lawyers, and he had grown up living in a waterfront condo in Sausalito, CA. After passing finals, he packed up with two friends, to spend the summer back packing in the Sierra high country.

  On the morning of Day –1, a conflict had developed between David and his friends. The weather was threatening, and a meteor strike a few miles south had started a small forest fire. They were just below a mountain peak, beside a small lake. David had lugged his telescope, in addition to a 70-pound pack, the 15 miles from where they had left the trucks.

  “I’m not worried about the weather, if it gets too bad we can shelter in the mine shaft below the cliff. I want to get more pictures of the meteor shower.”

  “That’s OK for you David, but Cindy is scared, and we are going back to my truck. We’ll leave most of our gear in the mine, and come back after the weather clears. You can watch it from up here, but we are going to find a motel with a big TV and a hot tub.”

  Jason and Cindy left before noon. The wind and rain squalls increased all afternoon, and David broke camp, and moved everything into the mineshaft.

  The meteor shower increased in intensity, with frequent visible strikes throughout the night.

  The sun did not break through the heavy cloud cover, on Day 0. The earthquakes started just after 9:00 AM. The aftershocks increased, to the point that David grabbed his pack and ran to a small depression in the center of the meadow. By mid-afternoon the quake activity peaked with a shock that literally bounced his prone body off the ground. As the quakes subsided, the wind and rain increased. By 6:00 PM of Day 0, the depression had filled with rainwater and David had to crawl back to the mineshaft to take shelter from the raging storm.

  He was surprised to find it mostly intact. He crawled back in out of the wind and the rain and slept. Water, flowing out of the mine, woke him the next morning. The storm raged outside, and visibility was zero. David opened the pack he had been leaning against, took out a flashlight, and started taking stock of his situation.

  The mine had a slight uphill slope, and a small stream of water was now flowing down the center of the shaft. Some rocks and debris had fallen down the cliff and partially blocked the entrance. Although the water pooled there, it flowed out of the mine and down into the darkness.

  David carefully moved his pack, as well as Jason’s and Cindy’s, away from the water. He hoped that they were in a safe place, and knew it was not likely they would return any time soon. He drank some water, ate a power bar, and listened to the howling wind.

  The hours passed, and David made camp by lamplight. He had plenty of food and water, and shelter, but limited battery life, so he stayed in the dark most of the time.

  The wind eased by the end of Day 2, but the rain continued to come down in sheets. By mid-day of Day 3, there was a little visibility. The lake had filled the meadow, and the tree line, which had ringed the Western edge of the lake, was gone.

  The days passed, with only gray skies and constant, unremitting, torrential rain. David had a handheld, multi-band transceiver, which emitted only static on all bands.

  After a few days, housebound at the mine, David started exploring the area. A raging river, which had been a dry creek bed, now blocked the trail down the mountain. He returned to the mine, soaked and discouraged.

  The days became weeks and the rains never abated. Finally, on Day 48, the rain eased to a gentle shower. David wrote a note for Jason and Cindy, or anyone else who came to the mine. He packed the remaining food, the first aid kit, his sleeping bag, the radio, utensils, a hand axe, the 357 Magnum pistol, and ammunition. He left his telescope and the other’s packs. The poncho kept most of the rain off him and the pack.

  Chapter 4

  Zeke Jacoby looked like a geek, with horn-rimmed glasses, a slender frame, and short black hair that accentuated his premature balding. He was a self made man, an engineering genius, and after cashing out of his dot com, just before the crash, a 27 year old, multi-millionaire. He lived on a custom houseboat, anchored just off of Sausalito. He was single, unencumbered, and spent most of his days researching and writing a blog titled: Offthegridandafloat.com.

  On the morning of Day -1, his current lady friend left in a huff after Zeke refused to cancel his plan to pull up anchor and sail up the Sacramento River and spend a few days in the delta. He wanted to get away from the light pollution of the Bay Area. And get some good video of the meteor shower. He had also read the net warning signs of a Coastal Event.

  He helped Angela take her bags from the dock to her car. She would
not even give him a goodbye kiss, and drove away with her nose in the air. Zeke was not disturbed. He had resolved to never again let a woman take him for a ride. His wife had filed for divorce shortly after the stock sale, and had moved to Mexico with his former broker as soon as she got her half of the community property settlement.

  Within an hour, the ungainly craft was making six knots up the River. The houseboat was named Busted Flush, after Travis McGee's houseboat in the novels by John D. McDonald. The Flush, was a 60' x 20' ocean rated barge that had spent over a year in the shipyard, in a major conversion to a combination luxury apartment, off the grid lab, and inland cruiser. It was propelled by a pair of inboard/outboard drive diesels. The upper deck contained the bridge, computer, and living room.

  A 12KW solar array collected energy, which was stored as compressed air in a pair of below deck carbon fiber pressure vessels. The Tesla based turbo compressors and motors could be reversed to generate electric power when it was needed. The lab included an alcohol still, a bio diesel processor, in 10 gallon batches, a hydroponics garden, a small machine shop and fabrication center, an electronics bench, and a mix of other equipment and supplies.