It was a long journey up. She took the stairs instead of the elevator for fear of another earthquake. The metal staircase had a narrow walkway that encircled high above some of the complex. It was dangerous, and Mallory held on. The walkway led to a small tunnel. It wasn’t long, maybe fifty feet. She walked the upward sloped surface, passing through the thick inner blast door that would close and seal them in. The second of two such door was a double insurance that those inside would be safe.
The second tunnel was longer and more of an upward climb. That one led to the other door and outside. As she emerged from the west facing tunnel entrance she passed a group of people walking in, escorted by a soldier and another man from the complex. One woman in the group had a cat, while a man led a dog. A few animals had survived and Mallory was glad to see that.
The soldier set the pace for the group to enter while the man held up the rear. He felt the need to tell Mallory she was supposed to be below.
“I’m looking for Captain Miller,” she told them. “I haven’t seen him below.”
“He’s packing up his office. The general really needs everyone below and accounted for. If you could relay that,” the one man said.
“Absolutely.” Mallory nodded.
George and his office. It was a reception building that George laid claim to. Probably because he wanted to be topside for as long as possible.
He was a man of science just like she was. Although she dealt with germs and viruses, harmful and deadly things that invaded the body, he dealt with harmful and deadly things that could invade the earth—meteors, comets, even unexplained objects.
Unlike other men of science who were ‘cold’ and emotionally blind to realistic and frightening scenarios before them, George seemed genuinely concerned, even saddened by his knowledge.
He constantly sought out Mallory to talk. When the final call to get below came in early, and Mallory didn’t see him, she worried that something happened to him in the quake or he wasn’t going below at all.
But there he was in his disheveled office, leaning his face against his hand, staring at the lone laptop computer before him.
“It doesn’t matter,” Mallory spoke softly as she stepped into the office. “You can stare at that from now until the end of the world and it’s not gonna change.”
“Funny how you say that. This is the end of the world.” He kept his stare on the computer.
“No, it’s not. We’ll be alive.”
George sighed out loudly as if on purpose for her to hear.
“George, we need to get down below. You should have been there already.”
“I know.” He lifted his gaze to her. “There’s time.”
“Is that what your program is telling you?”
“Are you tossing a dig at me for being wrong?”
“What?” she laughed out the word. “No. How are you wrong?”
“Olympias is supposed to come in four days. These earthquakes weren’t supposed to start for another two days. Which means, she’s coming by faster and harder.”
“Will she be here sooner?” Mallory asked.
“I’m going to guess yes.”
Mallory nodded. “You couldn’t predict if she sped up. You don’t have the equipment. You have done the best you can. Makes sense now why the General amped up the digging in. Which ... is what you should be doing.”
“I think we have time. Trucks just went out. I want to wait.”
“For?” she asked.
“Bob Stevens is flying the rescues and survivors from Cleveland in. The trucks are meeting them at the airfield.”
“Bob is flying in early. Is he sober?”
“Who knows.” George smiled.
“Well, we get to meet Ollie soon.”
“Mitch and the quilting queen. I feel like we got to know them,” George said. “Sort of like waiting on old friends.”
“They will be dear friends after we spend all this time underground.” She noticed he went back to staring at the computer. “Did you put new calculations in? Is that what you’re looking at?”
“Yeah,” George nodded. “Only, I’m looking at a little different scenario. It’s disheartening. This is where we are.” He turned the laptop to face her then clicked the keyboard. “This is what the area will look like three months from now and this …” Another click. “Is where …”
Mallory shut the laptop.
“What the heck? You and I both know that is not an acceptable and safe way to close a program.”
“Doesn’t matter, George,” Mallory said. “You can put figures in all you want. Like I said, it won’t change the outcome of what is really going to happen.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Like an addict reaching for a fix, George reached for the computer.
“George stop. Let’s go.”
“I’m not going below yet.”
“I’m not saying that,” Mallory said, “Let’s go outside. You have months to look at that laptop, we don’t have months to look at that sky. Let’s go wait for Bob and the others and take it in.”
George agreed, withdrawing his hand and standing. He walked behind Mallory as they stepped from the office.
She glanced up to the perfectly blue sky and squinted from the brightness. Now, more than ever she wanted to take it in, all of it, the sky, the mountains … everything. Because after looking even briefly at George’s computer screen, she knew there was a chance it would never look the same again.
<><><><>
In that moment, Buford thought of all the great leaders before him. What would they have done, would they have handled things differently? None of them ever faced what Burford faced. Hell, even the president was mush.
Not that he considered himself a great leader, but he was in a position of authority.
His experts were at the mercy of software programs and relays from satellites. Unable to access anything from NASA.
Those on the space station were non-responsive. More than likely they were dead.
Sergeant Ledders was in charge of the truck and accompanying jeep that headed to the airfield to get the Cleveland people. He checked in on the radio, a message now tainted with static and interference.
Each person had to repeat themselves three times so the other could get the gist of what was being said. It wouldn’t be long before all communication was down.
He couldn’t reach Colorado anymore.
When Buford asked if anyone had an educated inkling of how gravity worked, he didn’t expect a high school age person. But the young man seemed bright and talked intelligently, explaining how the moon’s gravitational pull and presence effected the tides, then he proceeded to show with water, why Olympias was going to disrupt that and how.
“I once saw a video on what would happen if the moon disappeared,” the young man, Boris, said. “Basically, we’re looking at the same thing. Only temporary.”
“So, it’s not long lasting?” Buford asked.
“I’d say no. Once Olympias is gone, things will snap back. Well, as much as they can.”
“Will it happen all at once?”
“It could.”
“Shit, that could be just as bad.”
Boris nodded.
“Sir,” a specialist across the communication room called for Buford’s attention. “I have Captain Taylor of the USS Billings and they say it’s urgent. The call isn’t clear.”
“Put him on speaker, son. Can you pull up their radar?”
“Yes, sir, I’ll try.” The specialist maneuvered his hands. “Captain Taylor I have General Cane.”
“General—” Captain Taylor’s voice broke up. “We not—it.”
“I’m tweaking it sir,” said the specialist.
“Can you repeat that, Captain?” Buford requested.
“We are not … gonna make it. We’ll try. Dive deeper. It won’t—difference.”
“Captain Taylor, what’s going on?”
“The ocean. It changed.”
“
What do you mean it changed?” Buford asked.
“Jesus help us all. The wave—”
Silence.
“Lost the radio,”: the specialist announced. “Trying to get him back.”
“Got him on the radar. Bouncing it from Sat NOAA 112,” another specialist announced at the controls. “I am tapping into … oh my God.”
“What? What?” Buford rushed over. “Can everyone quit talking like it’s some goddamn B disaster film? What the hell is going?”
“There.” The radar operator pointed to the large discoloration on the radar.
“What is that?” Buford asked.
“A swelling. A wave. Tsunami. Not sure ... it’s big and it’s moving way too fast.”
“How big and how fast are we talking?”
The radar specialist did his calculation, then turned his chair around to face Buford. “Four hundred and seventy five meters, moving at nine hundred kilometers per hour.”
“Someone do the math,” Buford said.
Boris stepped forward, leaning into the radar specialist. “How far away is it?”
The radar specialist pointed to the radar and the digits displayed. Boris quickly wrote down and turned to Buford.
Buford saw the look on his face. “What?”
“We have two hours.”
Buford inhaled deeply through his nostrils. He could do nothing but remain calm, think and bark out orders. “Okay, everyone. I want every available man at the entrance, all six of them. Radios work inside, and I want them ready for impact and ready to report. And someone get a hold of maintenance. Shut down all air vents. Shut them down. We need to seal this place tight. If that wave doesn’t break at all, it’s coming in bigger than us. It was swallow us. Let’s move it.” He tapped his hand twice on the counter and turned. He had other things to do. He had soldiers outside making last rounds and he needed to get a hold of Sergeant Ledders. The Cleveland plane was landing and he needed to get the word to him to get them and don’t piss around. They didn’t have the time.
<><><><>
Liv had always been an active participant of flying a plane since she was ten years old, she was the co-pilot to her father with his crop dusting and then taking more responsibilities as she got older.
She had experience with twin engines, air show, plane tricks, but never in her entire life had Liv ever gotten even close to being air sick.
Yet this simple one hour flight seemed like eight, and she was grateful she hadn’t eaten. Her stomach flipped and flopped every few minutes, just as it calmed down, the plane would go out of control again along with her stomach.
The plane would drop in altitude, swerve drastically, and between all that, the old, elderly woman Rose kept calling out, “Well, this is it, this is where we all die.”
It all started out normally. She sat in the cockpit with Bob. When it happened the first time, they chalked it up to bad air, then it happened again.
“What is this shit?” she asked him. “I have never felt turbulence like this before.”
“It’s not turbulence,” Bob replied. “It’s shock waves.”
“What?”
“That’s the nearest I can figure. Once I flew a rescue mission out of Nicaragua. We started taking off just as an earthquake hit. Once we were off the ground enough, we didn’t feel the shock waves. I’m telling you the intervals are consistent with the earthquakes and tremors. Only they could be sky quakes.”
“I've never heard of that,” Liv said.
“Yeah, not many have. It's an unexplained phenomenon. They happen. I've never experienced one. But I think what we are experiencing are those.”
“Can we go higher?”
“I’m pushing it as it is. We just need to hold on and pray.”
Liv kept thinking, ‘It’s only an hour, it’s only an hour.’
It wasn’t a typical flight. There was no radio tower to communicate with. All radio to the general was lost, they were flying solo.
Liv stayed up front, going back only a couple times to check on things. Just as Bob started making the descent, he sent Liv back to make sure the passengers were all secure.
The plane swayed some as she entered the main cabin. “Is everyone okay?” she asked, holding on. She grimaced at the feel of her flopping stomach, then looked to Ollie who seemed unfazed as he munched on a bag of peanuts. “How can you eat?” she asked him.
“I don’t know. It's not bothering me.”
Liv held on as she made her way to the back of the plane, making sure everyone was strapped in.
Donna tended to Trent. He was medicated and his wounds still seeped. He would need medical attention when and if they arrived. After checking on them she headed back toward the front.
“You alright?” Mitch reached up and grabbed her hand. “You’re really pale.”
“I’m really sick. Once we land, I’m gonna try to vomit.”
“What’s stopping you now?”
“I don’t want to lean over a toilet only to have the plane jolt.”
“Are we almost there?”
“Getting ready to land now. Strap in,” she instructed.
“Yes, ma’am. And Liv, it’s going to be okay.”
“I’m sure.”
“Hey, at least Bob remained sober, right?”
Liv forced a closed mouth smile, said nothing and started walking again.
“Liv, he is sober, right?”
“Don’t ask me to answer that question.”
“Oh my God.”
The plane felt steady as she walked back to the cockpit, opening the door the plane tilted right and she stepped over the tiny empty bottles that rolled across the floor.
“All secure.”
“Yep.” Liv took her seat.
“Buckle up,” Bob said, lifting a tiny bottle to his mouth. “We are gonna try to land this thing.”
Liv grabbed the bottle, pulled the straps over her shoulder, drank it, dropped it with the others and braced herself.
Slightly inebriated or not, Bob was experienced. He waited. He circled the landing area until the plane jolted and swayed catching another earthquake in the air before bringing the plane to a safe landing.
Once settled, Mitch made his way to the cargo area where they had stored the stairs. He brought it to the door and watched as Liv opened it. She wasn’t kidding. She was the first one down the stairs and raced off toward the front of the plane.
Keeping true to her word that she was going to get sick.
He aided Bob and Ollie in helping the others to disembark.
Then they unloaded what baggage and supplies they had brought with them to the runway. There was a strange and eerie silence to everything. It felt off balance to Mitch and he just attributed it to the flight.
Bob approached Mitch. “What now?”
“We wait,” Mitch answer, then sniffed. “You were drinking, weren’t you?”
“Does it matter? I got us here. Where’s Liv?”
“She’s over there.” Mitch pointed. He walked over to a bin of supplies and pulled out a bottle of water before walking to Liv who paced in front of the plane. “Hey, you feeling better?” He handed her the water.
“On solid ground, yes, thank you.” She immediately opened the water.
“Good.”
“Mitch?” Liv took a sip of water and looked around. “You talked to Buford, right? He is sending someone to get us?”
“Absolutely.”
“Where are they?”
“I don’t know.” Mitch shrugged.
“You’re not worried?”
“No. Not at all. He said he’d send them, they’ll be here. Besides,” Mitch said. “We have plenty of time.”
<><><><>
“I thought you said we have plenty of time.” Liv barked at Mitch as they sat in the back of the open military truck. With only metal looped bars over the back end where a tarp should have been. They were the last two on bench seating, nearly squished against the gate, feet propped up on c
ases. She sat across from him as the truck bumped and jolted.
Mitch spoke through clenched jaws. “How was I supposed to know the ocean was gonna move over us?”
“Oh my God, why are we even doing this? This isn’t even safe.”
“It’s fine.”
Liv knew when the large truck and jeep sped on to the runaway and stopped with urgency something was up.
Three soldiers, one called Ledders, without saying anything at first, just started rushing them into the truck. When Liv asked what the hurry was, he calmly told her.
“There’s a half mile high wave rolling in. It will be here in an hour and a half.”
“What!” Liv blasted.
Ledders explained they weren’t going to take the supplies they brought, there wasn’t enough time, and space was limited in the truck.
After arguing they needed the supplies and convincing him that the long case wasn’t weapons it was prosthetic limbs, Ledders relented. Even though it was only a twenty minute drive, they would have to haul ass and hold on.
Ledders was right.
The space was limited, especially with Trent and Rose laying down on the floor. Twenty people and supplies, they were like sardines.
“Anyone know where the bottles are?” Bob asked.
“Duffle bag marked BB,” Ollie replied. “Bob’s booze. It’s up front.”
Liv watched Bob as he started to stand. “Bob, leave it. We’ll be there soon enough. You had enough on the plane. Sit down before you fly out.”
“I’m fine,” Bob said. “I’m not gonna fly out.”
“Please sit,” Liv urged.
“Liv,” Mitch spoke calmly. “No one is flying out.”
“It happens. I had a cousin who was riding in the back of my uncles pick up. Flew right out. He hit his head and never was the same.”
“This isn’t the back of a pick up truck in Oklahoma or wherever you’re from. We’re fine.”
“I don’t know why they’re driving so fast,” she said. “It’s not that far of a drive. They said we have an hour and a half before the water comes.”
We Who Remain Page 17