"We're almost there," I replied.
"I'm scared, Dad. I don't want to die."
"You're not gonna die. I promise, I promise you'll be fine."
Melinda started crying again and I clenched my jaw, holding back the tidal wave of pain that I felt. I was helpless and I needed to do something, anything, to bring some kind of control back to the situation.
The drone from the boat motor echoed out across the water. It whined as we collided with the massive waves and sailed into the air. Suddenly, there was another sound, much louder and deeper.
"What the hell was that?" Koran boomed.
A ripple ran across the surface of the water as it churned wildly. Ahead of us a massive wave rose into the air. Koran swerved the boat to avoid it and I nearly fell into the ocean. With a thundering boom, the water crashed, pushing the raft onto its side.
Behind us, the island we'd just left cracked in half. Water rushed down the middle of it as chunks plunged under the frothing waves. It was like the Earth was swallowing itself.
"Get us to the pier!" I shouted.
The bay swirled around us, pushing and slapping the boat from side to side. Koran tried his best to steer us clear of the largest waves and angled toward the boardwalk. Hunter and Shipley were screaming and waving their hands, but we couldn't hear them over the roar of the wind and water.
The sound of a raging jackhammer cracked the air above us. I looked up as two enormous helicopters with props on either side floated toward the base. It was like I was watching a movie, there was no way this reality played a part in my life.
Howling wind blew whitecaps out in the distance. Screeches and deep thuds echoed as the ground ripped apart. The boat zipped through the raging storm and the massive, leaf-colored helicopters slowly lowered into a field behind the marina.
"Hang on!" Koran screamed.
With a clunk, we slid into the dock. The swelling water nearly pushed us onto the planks and the spinning props hacked into the crumbling wood before Koran could shut off the engine.
"We gotta go now!" Hunter snapped.
The rickety dock trembled as the water slammed into it. I quickly helped Ashley and the kids up and Shipley rushed them from the dock onto solid ground. Melinda climbed off of the boat behind them then turned back to me.
"Hurry Randall," she said.
Hunter stopped Ashley and looked her over. "You okay miss?" he asked over the loud whooshing noise.
"I'm fine," Ashley said dismissively.
I grabbed Alistair and with Koran's help I pulled him onto the dock. He groaned in pain and it broke my heart to see him in such misery. All I could do was pray that we’d make it in time.
"We need a stretcher and a doctor," I yelled out.
"What happened to him?" Hunter asked.
"He got shot. We need a fucking doctor now!"
"Lockship! Get over here!" Hunter yelled.
Kneeling down, he swung his bag off of his shoulders and started unfolding what looked like a lawn chair. Within seconds it morphed into a stretcher and we were loading Alistair onto it and carrying him into the field.
"What happened?" Lockship asked as he stopped alongside us.
"He got shot," I replied angrily.
"Put him down...put him down here," Lockship ordered.
We lowered Alistair onto the ground and Lockship started doing whatever it was medical professionals did. He had his little medical kit and some kind of device that he clipped onto Alistair's index finger.
"How you feeling buddy," Lockship asked.
Alistair bellowed like a pissed off mule as Lockship turned him onto his side. Melinda looked concerned, but I considered any sounds he made a good sign. Lockship smiled and patted his arm.
"Where's Clark and Decker?" Hunter asked as he caught up.
"They didn't make it," Koran replied.
Hunter gave him a look, but didn't push any further. "We've gotta get out of here now!"
To punctuate that notion the ground trembled and the remaining pieces of the dock fell into the bay. Water splashed up against the seawall and started to flood the surrounding lawn. I could hardly believe what I was seeing, the ocean was drinking the world away.
"Help me get him on the bird," Lockship suddenly said. "Come on!"
"Is he gonna be okay?" Melinda asked as she cradled David and Charlie in her arms.
Ashley stood behind her, looking on with watery eyes. She hadn't said much, but I could tell she was terrified of losing him.
"Doesn't look like the bullet hit anything major. He's stable now, but not out of the woods, but we need to get him to a trauma center, I can't do anything with him here."
Hunter looked at all of us and chewed the inside of his jaw. His eyes rested on Ashley then back to Koran. Then he glanced over to the water that was decidedly working its way further and further inland. "Let's go," he said. "Everybody on the helicopter."
The other soldiers ushered us toward the aircraft. The swirling blades blew dirt and debris into the air, but we pushed past it. Running up the ramp, we loaded Alistair into the closest chopper then buckled up the kids. More soldiers piled into the other helicopter as the water worked its way closer and closer.
Hunter and his men loaded in with us. Trampling onto the helicopter, they buckled into the seats and laid their rifled across their laps. Lockship stayed right beside Alistair the entire time. I was grateful to have him there.
"Hunter," Koran said as he stopped and grabbed him by the arm. "I brought her," he started. "Just like I said I would. She's here."
“Okay?” Hunter replied.
“So, don’t forget what we talked about.”
"Yeah, yeah...I understand."
Water splashed against the skids and Hunter glanced back outside. Everything was going to shit. The wind was picking up and the bay was spooling up like a blender.
I could read the worry on Hunter’s face and I was sure it was the same as mine. We’d survived so much and still, we weren’t out of the woods yet. Clenching his jaw, Hunter took a deep breath then motioned up toward the pilot.
"Get these things in the air!" he shouted.
Lockship started an IV on Alistair. I pulled Melinda and the kids in close and prayed under my breath. The weather was damn near torrential and the ground was falling apart beneath us. It seemed like there was no place that was safe.
I felt my stomach turn as the engines grew louder. With a shimmy, the rotors spun up and the molded chunk of metal left the ground.
"Dad are we flying?" Charlie asked.
"We sure are," I replied. "You're not scared, are you?"
"Not anymore."
"Well, that makes one of us," I said with a laugh.
The helicopter shuddered from side to side as we climbed higher into the air. The wind seemed intent on stopping us, but the thundering rotors hacked right through it as we left the base and headed into the unknown.
Ashley leaned out of her seat and grabbed Alistair's hand. She interlaced her fingers with his and squeezed. "You'll be okay," she whispered.
Alistair smiled and placed his other hand over hers. He pulled it to his chest and took a deep breath.
I think if they could, they would've stayed like that forever. There was something about going through tragedy together. The immediacy of it all made emotions much more potent. It was strange to watch and heartbreaking to know that such things seldom lasted.
"Hey," Koran called out to Hunter.
"Yeah?"
"Mayflower," he said. "You promised...you would take us to Mayflower."
Hunter glared at him. He clenched his jaw and ground his teeth together. Sighing, he turned and looked toward the back of the helicopter then reluctantly nodded.
"What's Mayflower?" Melinda asked.
~THE END~
~Read on for~
“The Mayflower Project: Deconstruction Book Two”
THE MAYFLOWER PROJECT
DECONSTRUCTION
BOOK TWO
&
nbsp; By Rashad Freeman
Copyright © 2018 by Rashad Freeman
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without the expressed written consent of the author.
Well, it took a while, but I’ve finally completed the second part of this epic journey. Writing this installment was a wild ride so I hope reading it is just as exciting. The mind can be a scary place, but through literature we get to explore the far reaches of this complex landscape. When it’s all said and done I hope that I may have played a part in your life long adventure.
~Safe travels~
“Set the sails, I feel the winds a stirring. Toward the bright horizon, set the way. Cast your reckless dreams upon our Mayflower. Haven from the world and her decay.” – Charlie Darwin
CHAPTER 1
THE COUNTDOWN CLOCK
"Max, are you gonna finish that?" Suzanne asked me.
I looked up at her and sighed. Of course I was gonna finish that. There were maybe three bites left of my ham and cheese sandwich and I was holding the damn thing in my hand. But the way she was staring at me, I feared she might snatch it and run off.
"Where does all of the food you eat even go?" I asked and narrowed my eyes.
Suzanne was a tall, light-skinned lady from some island in the Caribbean. She apparently worked out like a track athlete, although I had no proof, other than her physique and the fact that she ate like a linebacker, but managed to never gain a pound.
She smiled at me and grabbed the remainder of my sandwich. "Thanks, Max. You're a keeper."
"I was gonna eat that," I screamed after her.
Sighing, I got up and cleaned off the table then left the break room. I walked down the hall and back into the work area at the National Weather Service Center in Georgia. You had to say it the long way or no one would understand you. People didn't understand what we did anyway, but avoiding acronyms or any shortening of the name, made me feel like I'd chosen the right path in school.
Around the office we spoke in a short code on just about everything. NOAA, EPA, SAB, E3, E&C, NAI, SCAN, SDR...the list went on. It was enough to give anyone a headache. So when I had the opportunity, I spoke like a normal person.
Lately, the list of names in the office had become much more ominous and terms like CIA, NSA, DIA, and NORAD were getting thrown around. All of our work had become compartmentalized and guys with dark suits and strong, jaw bones lurked in every corner.
All of this additional security made me nervous and as far as anyone outside of work was concerned, all I did was track hurricanes and send alerts to the surrounding Emergency Operations Centers. But that couldn't be further from the truth.
I was a climatologist, a damn good one. Science had always been my thing and luckily it worked out. At the ripe young age of twenty-seven I'd managed to snag a senior position working with the government. A position that I still couldn't believe I had.
It all started with a paper I'd written back in school. It was a soapbox moment, but after getting passed around a few times the paper garnered some serious attention.
It was about thermodynamics and climate change and a theory I proposed, called the "Neilman Effect"...my last name. Basically, the Earth was dying. I suggested we'd be faced with cataclysmic disaster on a global scale in this lifetime. The report was interlaced with a healthy bit of speculative fiction, but someone important read it and decided it sounded a little too probable to ignore.
So, here I was, heading up a secret team in an inconspicuous building. Plotting charts, making graphs and giving predictions that set the ground floor for policy. All because someone had read my dissertation and concluded that Max Neilman could save the world.
"Max, you get the reports over to the DOD? They need the update before the last mailing goes out," Bruce asked.
He was an older man with silvery hair and thick, eyebrows. He needed glasses, but he seldom wore them and he liked to part his hair right down the middle and chew the end of any pen he could get his hands on.
"Yeah, Bruce, I sent them." I stopped and looked up at the giant, digital clock that took up the wall.
The idea that you needed a clock the size of a movie screen was a clear indication of how serious things were, but if the message still wasn't received, the bright, red numbers that ticked away slowly, would've hammered home the sense of peril. It read 987 Days: 14 Hours: 17:26. An arbitrary time frame, but people needed something to shoot for.
As the numbers vanished, I cringed and ground my teeth. Time, man's greatest invention. It was the only way we could comprehend our place in the universe and it was the only way we could even attempt to acknowledge our mortality. But it was an invention nonetheless, a nonsensical representation that made us feel better. A way that we could convince ourselves that things didn’t just happen. Our petty attempt at exerting control.
"Staring at it is not gonna make it go back up," Bruce snapped.
"Yeah, I know. It's just...maybe, maybe we got it wrong."
"Err on the side of caution, Max. You did good here."
I took a deep breath and held it. That was just it, maybe I hadn't been cautious enough. Everything had been extrapolated from my research. Everything had been built around something I'd written while intoxicated and under insane stress.
Sure, my work had been second guessed and scrutinized by probably hundreds of other scientists. Sure, experts had weighed in and tried to tear my research apart, but no one knew the data like me. If the estimates were wrong, that was my fault.
Bruce stepped closer to me and leaned in. "Mayflower is your baby. No one might ever tell you, and only a handful of people will even know what you did, but all of this is because of you."
"Thanks, Bruce," I said and patted him on the shoulder.
Mayflower, that name was seldom spoken. As far as code names went, it was probably the most secretive of all. Only a few even knew of its existence and an even smaller group understood the details in their entirety. I was part of that group.
"Look sharp, we have visitors today."
With that, Bruce headed back to his desk. Rubbing my face, I walked back to my office and closed the door. I plopped into my chair and let my head fall forward onto the solid oak. I counted to twenty then sat up and stared at the wall.
There was a map taped to the cream painted brick. It was zoomed in on the mid-western United States and had pins stuck in places all over Wyoming. I'd recommended Colorado, but decisions like that weren't really left up to me.
So, somewhere up in the Rocky Mountains there was a secret. The government had its tentacles at work and had set the many segments of this powerful nation to task, without one arm knowing what the other one was doing.
That was the Mayflower. That was the secret that many had already taken to their grave. That was why I was under constant surveillance, like everyone else that worked down there and that was why every night, I went home and lied to my girlfriend.
"I just need more time," I mumbled to myself. “Just more time.”
I picked up a picture frame, looked at it and smiled. Cindy smiled back at me and I thought about life before all of this. I thought about my life when I was just Max, and no one expected anything else.
Mediocrity has it’s pluses and being in this place made you miss them. What I missed most though was being invisible. It wasn’t like I was famous or anything, but w
ithin a small circle everyone knew who I was and watched everything I did. The guy in that photo never had to worry about things like that.
We'd taken the picture during a trip to North Carolina. We'd visited a place called Slippery Rock and spent the rest of the week hiking through the mountains. It was one of the best times of my life and the first time I looked at Cindy as someone I could get old with.
Now, we never had time for anything. Cindy lived with her nose in a book, studying to take the bar. And I was always here, doing things I couldn't even tell her about. Most days we hardly saw each other and when we did it was for a few minutes before we both fell asleep.
"Max," I heard Bruce call as he tapped on the door.
"Come on in," I replied.
The door swung open and Bruce was standing outside with two more men. They both were wearing navy blue suits and were probably in their late sixties. I recognized one of the men and felt my throat tighten just a bit.
"Hello, Secretary Morris," I said with a smile.
"Max," he replied and stepped inside. "This is Timothy Garner, Secretary of Defense. Why don't you go ahead and tell us about the Mayflower."
CHAPTER 2
PARTY AT THE END OF THE WORLD
I got home around seven and headed up the elevator to my Atlanta apartment. The commute from Peachtree was about an hour and I usually spent that time second guessing everything I'd done earlier. We lived right in the heart of the financial district, which was good for Cindy since she worked there, but meant crappy traffic for me just about every day.
"You home?" I asked as I walked inside and dropped my bags.
"In the bedroom," Cindy replied.
I made my way through the living room and she walked out. Cindy was a tall, athletically built former track star at Georgia Tech. She could still outrun my ass in her sleep and since she was nearly my height I tried to ban heels whenever I could.
Deconstruction- The Complete series Box Set Page 17