Wipeout: Wipeout Book 1

by Richards, ES

  “It’s pulling away!”

  One voice in the crowd rang out in Jessie’s head, snapping her eyes up from Zayn who ran just ahead of her to the boat and its position at the end of the Port Allen commercial pier. They were just a little over two hundred yards away from it now, the giant mass protruding up out of the water like a moving mountain – one that was certainly inching away from the pier itself.

  “No! It can’t!”

  “Run! Come on, faster!”

  Cries of dread and fear pierced the air around them, Jessie’s own mouth opened to beg the ship in the distance not to leave. Not yet. But it was drifting away; the final hatch door slowly lifting up from the tarmac, bodies still scrambling along it, trying to climb inside before it was properly closed. But even then, people didn’t stop. Islanders threw themselves off of the pier, their arms reaching out into the distance as they tried to grab hold of the boat, slipping and falling into the crystal-clear blue waters below. The ship had left the harbor; there was no leaving Kauai now.

  Hundreds of frustrated people who had watched the same scene now turned to the smaller commercial fishing boats and tour boats moored to the left of the road. They flocked like a unit, rushing for anything and everything they could take out onto the water. All flights had already departed from the airport hours earlier, the boats were the last chance they had to not be trapped on Kauai.

  Looking over at them, Jessie almost started running with everyone else, until she felt her son, Zayn squeezing her hand. His hand was trembling as he hugged her lower body, people more than three times his height in some cases pushing past him without any care or concern for if he got hurt. Reaching down for her son, Jessie hoisted him up onto her waist and held him tightly, shouldering the vibrations from the herds of people running past them. Locking eyes with her husband again Jessie suddenly knew – it was time to go back. There was no chance the four of them were going to manage to get a boat out of the harbor and even if they did, they weren’t prepared for the over two-thousand mile journey. It was time for them to go home and figure out their next step from there. Forcing their way out of the crowd, Jessie and Art began to carry their two young boys home.

  “Mom, what’s going to happen now?”

  Shaking her head, Jessie answered her son the only way she knew how to, truthfully. “I’m not sure darling. We’re going to go home and then we can figure it out from there.”

  “Do we not have to leave anymore?”

  “Not anymore,” Jessie smiled at Zayn. “We’re going to stay.”

  “Can we go back to the beach?” Axel asked from Arthur’s arms, the five-year-old recovering enough to join the conversation now they had walked away from all the madness. Shouting and screaming still rang out behind them, but Jessie and Art set a steady pace in order to return home. They never should have left; the outing only resulting in some lost possessions and a stark reminder of how dangerous life could be. Both just wanted to get their children safely home now; everything else could be dealt with after that.

  “Maybe tomorrow,” Art replied. “Just home for now, I think.”

  Looking at one another as they carried their children, Jessie and Art both tried to remain strong. Neither of them could be sure what it meant for them that they hadn’t been able to find a way off of the island, but they knew they had to put the safety of their boys first and protect them until the very end. It had been dangerous and risky taking Zayn and Axel out toward the cruise liner in the first place, but that had seemed necessary in the moment. From now on, they both silently vowed to do right by their boys before anything else. They may be trapped in Hawaii, but they weren’t finished, yet.

  As they walked back inside their house, the door never even having been locked behind them, Jessie felt a weird mixture of relief and fear wash over her. She had no idea what was going to happen next and that terrified her, but she couldn’t deny she felt considerably less anxious now her family was back in their home.

  She and Art made their excuses to the boys as rationally as they could manage, fed them a quick meal and took them both upstairs to their rooms. Axel was asleep within minutes, his tiny head nestling down beneath the covers until only his mop of blond hair was visible in the dim, green glow of his night light. Zayn took a little longer though, the seven-year-old understanding what had been happening a little more than his younger brother did.

  “I don’t understand,” he said as Jessie sat on his bed and stroked his cheek, gazing down at her first born son like he was a miracle. “Why did we all have to leave the island?”

  “Something has happened on the mainland which is going to change things for us,” Jessie tried to explain. Her son was intelligent, but he was still only a child and she didn’t want to worry him anymore than he already was. “We thought we needed to leave so we could deal with it, but it turns out we can cope with everything from home. Things just might be a little bit harder than we’re used to.”

  “I thought we needed to get on the big boat?”

  “We tried,” Jessie nodded. “But they couldn’t fit everyone on. Some of us have to stay behind and look after the island, so we’re going to do that. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Zayn mumbled, nodding into his pillow.

  “Try and get some rest now, bud,” Art piped in from the doorway after having changed into his pajamas. It was remarkable the difference having children made: his mind was still on high alert as he tried to process what was going to happen to him and his family next, but he knew if his boys saw him dressed and ready for bed it would make the pair of them feel relaxed. And Arthur was willing to do anything for his boys. “Sleep tight.”

  “Night dad,” Zayn said as he rolled over to make himself comfortable. Jessie stood up from his bed as slowly as she could manage, trying as she did every night not to disturb her son. As she reached the door, she planted a soft kiss on Art’s cheek and smiled at him, pulling the door closed behind her and leaving her eldest to sleep and hopefully forget the ordeal of his evening.

  “What are we going to do?” Jessie asked her husband once the two of them were downstairs, standing in their kitchen which looked vaguely like a bombsite from their desperate attempt at packing things before heading out to the cruise liner. Shaking her head, Jessie felt responsible for them missing the boat. If she hadn’t been so intent on gathering supplies, then maybe they would’ve made it. Maybe they could’ve gotten off the island.

  “Or maybe we would’ve been crushed by the closing doors,” Art spoke up, reading his wife’s mind and knowing exactly what was troubling her from the look on her face. “Maybe we would’ve been the ones who were pushed off of the pier into the ocean. Maybe we would’ve been trampled on the deck of the boat. It wasn’t equipped for that many people to try and get on board. It was,” Art paused, struggling to find the words to say. “Ridiculous. I think we made the right choice coming back home when we did. We need to keep the boys safe, that’s the most important thing.”

  “I know,” Jessie nodded, strongly agreeing with her husband. “But what are we going to do in the long run? If there isn’t any money, how are we going to survive?”

  With a deep sigh, Art shook his head. “I don’t know, babe. I don’t know what’s going to happen to us now.”

  Jessie had never expected Art to have all the answers, but his response still made the pang of fear inside her chest throb again, reminding her it was there. She leaned against her husband, her head on his chest as he held her in his arms and the two of them closed their eyes, trying to block out the worries and fears that plagued them. There was no way of guessing how life on their tiny island would change now. Without resources from the rest of Hawaii and most importantly, the mainland, they would be forced to be self-sufficient and live off only what the land could give them. Truth be told; that wasn’t much.

  But Jessie and Art both believed they would figure something out. Their two little boys were sleeping upstairs and keeping them safe and happy was – like it always had been
– the most important thing. The stream of money ebbed and flowed like water, sometimes it was a gushing river and other times nothing more than a leaky faucet, but they always survived. It wasn’t the be all and end all of their lives, both Jessie and Art had faith that if they stuck together and faced their problems, then there was nothing they couldn’t overcome.

  Chapter 22

  President Morgan was at her wits end. Her country was falling apart around her and she was trapped in an airport hangar in Minneapolis with no way of getting back to Washington. Her pilot had deserted her along with the larger portion of her staff and while those that remained behind were loyal, they were useless in her current battle to try and get the United States back on its feet.

  Her chief of staff, Gregory Havisham was out on the tarmac making calls to the army and those who were still working back at the White House. She was receiving updates on the riots and looting almost every fifteen minutes, with the situation spiraling out of control faster than she could believe and not nearly enough boots on the ground who were willing to try and stop it. Washington’s own police force had been cut down by about seventy percent, with the emergency services almost nowhere to be seen in the city. Brick by brick the place was coming down and President Morgan felt like she was utterly powerless to stop it.

  Ten minutes has passed since she had hung up the phone with the leader of China, Li Jun Wang Yong, desperately trying to garner some support from his nation. President Morgan had bartered with her country’s oil and gold reserves, but neither had even tempted the leader of China, the man resilient in his refusal of aid. Over the years the United States’ relationship with China had soured, the debt mounting between their nations far greater than what could ever be repaid. That was what Li Jun Wang Yong had used against President Morgan as she bargained for his help, responding point blank that if there was no way the original debt could be repaid, there was no chance they were going to increase that figure, no matter how much oil and gold could be gifted in return.

  Trident’s collapse hadn’t just crippled the American economy, it had destroyed the global financial systems for almost every major nation. China was perhaps the only country unaffected by the ordeal, keeping their trade circles much smaller and tighter than that of the United States and many countries within Europe. President Morgan knew that China had likely been their last real chance, but she still had one more call to make. America still had a few friends left inside the European Union, and she was determined to call on each and every one of them, no matter how futile the process seemed. As her hand hovered over the receiver, a sudden knock on the jet’s door saved her for a few moments longer.

  “Gregory,” President Morgan looked up at her chief of staff as he walked onto the plane, shaking his head apologetically to show that he didn’t come with good news before he even opened his mouth. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s not good ma’am,” the man replied. “Our resources are more than half what they should be in Washington and we’re receiving further reports that other major cities are going down the same way. Half of Chicago is in flames and in New York, thousands of people have taken to the streets outside where the Trident Building used to be, demanding justice from that man who gave the public statement.”

  President Morgan sighed. She had seen the news broadcast just like everyone else and couldn’t comprehend why this mysterious man who claimed to work at Trident had told everyone the truth about their money. The truth rarely brought anyone any comfort. That was something she had learned over the years: no matter how much the public thought they wanted to know everything; they were much better off being spoon fed information that had been pre-approved by a board of specialists. The biggest problem with most disasters was how humanity reacted to it; people had the power to either make or break a situation, it was a shame that more often than not they chose the latter option.

  Poverty was going to be given a whole new meaning in the coming months. America didn’t have nearly enough food banks to support the vast number of people who would be relying on them now – though what worried the President more was how they were going to supply food to those food banks. They didn’t have the manpower to keep running the slaughterhouses or sowing the crops, unless the citizens of America realized they needed to go back to their jobs soon to keep the country alive, there was going to be a serious shortage.

  That was why they desperately needed support from someone, President Lebedev in Ukraine her last chance at being able to stop her country from devolving overnight. “Are we making progress anywhere?” President Morgan asked her chief of staff, desperate for even one tiny piece of good news from him.

  Gregory Havisham shook his head. “I’ll keep trying ma’am. I assume we’ve not had anything come through from our friends overseas?”

  “I have one more call to make,” the President replied. “To President Lebedev.”

  “Ah,” Gregory’s face said it all. He knew the call was unlikely to go well, but much like President Morgan, he was aware they didn’t have any other choice. America had been brought to its knees by this collapse. They were at the mercy of whoever chose to take advantage of them and both Gregory and President Morgan knew that now was the time when they were at their most vulnerable. No stone should be left unturned in the hope for aid, no matter how painful they were to lift. “I’ll leave you to it ma’am. Call me if you need anything.”

  “Thank you,” President Morgan nodded, her heart sinking as Gregory closed the door behind him and left her once again alone with the phone. She couldn’t put this off any longer; she needed to make the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Good afternoon President Lebedev,” Morgan tried to sound as cheerful and upbeat as possible as she finally was put through to the man in charge after nearly thirty minutes of waiting on hold. The Ukrainians seemed to take extreme pleasure in making her wait for things, President Morgan unable to forget a time when her car had been delayed by over an hour on one democratic visit to their capital. “I hope I reach you at a good time.”

  “President Morgan,” the man replied. “Good time for me yes, not so much for your country though I see.”

  “Yes well, I’m sure you’re aware of what has happened to the United States, Mr. Lebedev; so I won’t mince my words. We’re struggling to keep our heads above water and I’m coming to you with a plea for aid. Please, is there anything you can spare to help our country in this time of need? We will of course be forever indebted to you as a result.”

  President Lebedev laughed on the other end of the line, a carefree sound that made Morgan scowl in frustration. “You already are, no?” He asked, making reference to the millions of dollars the United States owed to Ukraine after their naval fleet ran aground off the coast of the Black Sea. “We cannot afford to spare anymore ships.”

  “I beg of you Mr. Lebedev, if there is anything, any sort of humanitarian aid that you can –”

  “I am sorry President Morgan, but Ukraine has nothing we can give you at this time. We are going through hard times ourselves as a result of this failure and we need to focus our efforts in our own garden.”

  “We have gold,” President Morgan started to sound desperate, her tone of voice giving away just how vulnerable her country was. “And oil reserves that we can trade with you.”

  “Trade? Oh no. The Ukraine does not trade with America anymore. We cannot do it. Good day, Madam President.”

  “Please –” President Morgan tried to keep the man on the end of the line, but it went dead before she could even say his name. Holding the receiver in her hand, Morgan chewed on her bottom lip and tried to keep a straight face. She couldn’t let this affect her. It had been a long shot to begin with, it couldn’t feel like a failure.

  But that had been her last chance. Without aid from another country, the United States would be left to fight this battle on their own; something that was becoming increasingly difficult with every new man or woman that deserted their post. She understo
od that people were in shock and were reacting to this badly; half of her own mind was telling her to run off and go wild for a few days as well. But they had to see the bigger picture; she had to see the bigger picture. Eventually the people of the United States would need to reunite again, and they would need someone to lead them through the recession and destitution and hopefully out to a better life on the other side. She would be there waiting for when that day came, but it wasn’t something she could do alone. In order for America to survive, it needed to rely on the strength of the American people.

  Chapter 23

  KW couldn’t believe the news they had just received. She sat in the server room of their tiny bunker, reading and re-reading the note that FM had first brought to her. It didn’t make sense. There was no way this could be happening to them after everything her group had gone through already; after everything that they had done for their leader. But it was. The note which had been sent down with their next week’s supply of food – a supply none of them had been expecting to receive – told them clear as day that they weren’t getting out of the bunker anytime soon. Despite their success with the hack, they would be required to continue surveillance on the United States, in order for the government to carry out the next stage of their plan.

  “This isn’t fair,” KW muttered angrily, “they can’t do this to us. Have they no honor?”

  AC scoffed, shaking his head and breathing deeply. He had a daughter waiting for him on the outside that would be nearly thirteen years old now. He had already missed most of her childhood because of this hack and he couldn’t believe he wasn’t going to be reunited with her now as promised. “They can’t be trusted,” he whispered, fully aware that the entire bunker was bugged and yet another team would be listening to them from somewhere. “They promised us our freedom. They promised.”