Coastal Event Memories (3 page)

Cindy Henderson was 18 years old, and a freshman at Montana State. She was on vacation with her parents in their RV on Day-2, when they decided to wait out the storm in a Reno hotel. They were all full except for the Atlantis Casino Resort. It was big, overpriced, and substantial, but they had a room left. There was a convention there and the bars, restaurants, and casino was crowded.

That night at 11:00 PM they were awakened by the fire alarm. Cindy slipped on a pair of jeans and a sweater, and helped her folks get down the stairs.

When they reached the lobby, armed men in full combat gear were separating the people as they came down the stairway. Cindy was pulled away from her parents and hustled through a door. She shouted at her father and saw him clubbed to the floor when he tried to intervene.

She was forced down a gauntlet of troopers wearing flack jackets with DHS on their chests into a large bus. It was almost full, of young women. They were pushed further back and 6 troopers occupied the first three rows of seats. The door slammed, and the bus started moving. She could see several other buses as they assembled into a convoy lead by Humvees with machine guns on top. They left Reno going south, and turned off the freeway 45 minutes later. After another 30 minutes, they went through some gates, through a hanger full of aircraft, and down a long ramp.

They were hustled off the bus into a huge room full of military type vehicles to a bank of elevators. In groups of a dozen, they were escorted into the elevators, and down to the eighth level. The doors opened to a long corridor, with several branches. Each branch held a locked steel door, and Cindy’s group was pushed through the door on the third branch.

The door opened into a long room, with a total of 50 bunks along both walls. At the far end of the room was an open restroom with sinks, toilets, and a big shower area. Women were milling around, questioning each other, and crying.

The door slammed shut after the next group entered. Cindy found an empty bunk and sat down. She could not believe what had happened to her. After a few minutes a loudspeaker made an announcement:

“This is Regional DHS Director Malcolm Kemp. The President has declared a National Emergency. There is a high possibility that tomorrow an asteroid strike may end the world as we know it. This facility and 11 others like it are charged with directing recovery operations and restoring order and governmental control of the surviving population if the worst happens. You were taken to save your lives if the worst happens.

Unfortunately, we do not have room for the rest of the area population. If the worst case happens, the inhabitants may represent the only hope of mankind to survive. Since most of the DHS people here are male, it was necessary to insure that a suitable number of females are present to insure a broad gene pool.

If the asteroid misses, you will be returned to your lives and families. If it does not, we all will have to get on with our new lives.

The doors are locked during this event for your protection. A cart with food for the next 24 hours will be delivered shortly. I suggest that you stay in your bunks since we may experience severe aftershocks.  Good night,”

The pandemonium started again, and Cindy just sat there in silence, trying to comprehend what was happening.  The woman on the next bunk lit a cigarette, in defiance of the No Smoking signs, and said, “Hang in there honey, we’ll get through this if we don’t go into meltdown.”   She stood, and then sat down beside Cindy and placed her arm around her shoulders.

Together, they hung on during the terrors of Day 0, and the days after.

Cindy’s new friend, Rose McAllen, was 23 and had run away from a molesting foster home when she was 15. She had started hooking immediately, and was making $1000 a night on Day –1. She was a survivor, and had resolved to help Cindy cope with their new life, no matter which direction it took.

On Day 11 all of the women were taken to the general mess hall, where a stage had been erected. Director Kemp was standing at a lectern, and armed troopers lined the walls. He had a stern expression, and then started speaking.

“I am sorry to inform you that the worst has happened. There have been massive earthquakes and volcanic eruptions everywhere. Before we lost contact with the Presidential Bunker below the Denver Airport, they reported that most of the East Coast was under water, and that Yellowstone, Mammoth Mountain, and Mount Rainer had massive eruptions. They were reporting their site was being covered by ash when we lost contact. Before we lost it our surface weather station had reported continuous wind velocities of over 120 MPH for several hours.

I must conclude, and FEMA Regional Director Morris agrees, that it is likely that we may be the only survivors in North America.

Going forward, our plans include staying buttoned up in the bunker for 36 months, in order to allow surface conditions to stabilize. We will attempt to make the living conditions for everyone as good as our resources permit. You have been restricted during this crisis period for your own safety. I know that many of you are upset with the circumstances that brought you here. I had to look at the potential big picture, and make a number of hard choices, including the one that brought you here, without your friends and loved ones.

The hard fact remains, we may be the only humans left to repopulate the earth. There was no opportunity for the staff here to bring our family and friends, including my own wife and children. We are all in the same boat. In time the grief will pass, and we must move on.

The staff population includes about 100 women, and over 1500 men. Within the next few weeks we will be screening all of you, medically, professionally, and emotionally. We will have an assignment for each of you that best fulfills the needs of this community. Our objective is to develop a stable, productive, and prolific community that has a minimum of four children from each fertile woman.”

There was a great outcry and rage among the assembled women, and Kemp just stood there, while the troopers brought their weapons to port arms.

“You may not like it, but I have both a carrot and a stick. Those who cooperate will have an improved standard of living and a good life. Anyone that does not respect our authority will not be treated gently. You will be called in small groups for interviews, starting tomorrow.” With that he turned and left the room, and the women were herded back to their barracks.

Cindy was beside herself. “What are they expecting?”

Rose lit her last cigarette and said, “They want us to be brood mares and whores. We can’t fight it, they have all the guns, and rape is no fun. I know. All we can do is go along until we have an opportunity. Just stick with me, and I’ll help you through it. It’s not too bad if you don’t fight it, and sometimes it’s pretty good.”

That evening, there were two suicides by mothers who realized that their children were gone.

Over the next weeks many things changed. They now ate their meals in the General Mess. They were also welcome in the gym and pool, as well as the four clubs that had nightly music, limited booze, and many dark corners. The staff all had private rooms and women were welcome to enter and stay. Birth control of any form was not available, and when a women was confirmed pregnant then she had the option of staying with the presumed father, or moving into a room with another mother to be.

Cindy worked days in Director Kemp’s office, and Rose worked in the laundry. They went to the gym most days and to a club three or four times a week. Cindy met a cute young officer, Raymond Jennings, who was the pilot for the big helicopter. Rose was busy captivating a senior officer. He was in his 40’s, and commanded the Motor Pool Company. They both occasionally stayed overnight, but refused offers of a different arraignment.

Their lives seemed to stabilize, until the week when Cindy’s period was late, and she was sick every morning. When the test strip indicated that she was indeed pregnant, she went to Rose in tears.

Again, Rose was pragmatic. “So you’re going to have a kid. It’s not the end of the world. Move in with your guy the next time he offers. You must have set the hook by now. I know I have the Colonel wrapped around my finger.”

Reluctantly, Cindy agreed that moving in was the best option, for now. Two months later, when she admitted that she was pregnant, he kicked her out. She moved in with another mom who had suffered a similar fate. 

When Lilly was born Cindy thought she was a miracle, and resolved that she would never have to live like her mother.

There was a lot of debris in the water, shipping containers, parts of buildings, even the bow of a ship that was bigger than the Goose. The days had heavily overcast skies, with less than a mile of visibility. At night, there was none, and when the darkness returned, we struck the jib and drifted until the next morning.

Finally, on September third (Day 96), we approached what the GPS said was San Francisco Bay. I was looking through binoculars, trying to spot the Golden Gate Bridge. Dad pointed to a square, orange structure, sticking out of the water.

“I believe that’s the South Tower,” he said. “And over there, that must be the top stories of the B of A building. The sea level must have risen well over 300 feet.”

Everyone was out on deck, and the silence said it all.

Allison Jacobs asked, “Where did all the people go?”

No one had an answer that they were willing to voice.

We anchored the Goose for the night, and turned on all the lights. Even though we all looked until we were tired, we found no evidence of life.

The next morning, April Hall demanded that we sail up the Sacramento River to see if we could find her husband Eric. She had been through hell, not knowing, and no one argued with her.

The trip was slow, because of the amount of floating debris, and the fact that we had to navigate using the GPS, since the river was now part of a huge Inland Sea.

We reached what the GPS said was the Port of Sacramento by late morning of the next day. The city was mostly under water, except for some wrecked high rise buildings and houses on the foothills to the east. We followed the path of the American River, and passed over Folsom Dam. It was under over 150 feet of water according to the fathometer.

We anchored in shallow water near what the map called El Dorado Hills. Most of the homes appeared intact, except for blown out windows. Dad noticed smoke coming from a chimney on a home near the top of the hill. He tried calling out with loudspeaker, but got no response.

We turned all the lights on again that night, and waited. About two hours after sundown, Dad saw a couple of people sneaking down the hill with the night vision goggles. Doc turned on the spotlight on them, and they crouched down behind a wall.

Dad called out with the loudspeaker “We mean you no harm. Come back in the morning and we can talk.”

Doc then turned off the spotlight and all the external lights. Dad kept watch with the night vision goggles until the stranger left the area.

The next morning we unstrapped the inflatable and Dad ran it the 50 yards to the shore. I saw that he had a pistol under his shirt, and that both Doc and Mr. Jacobs had assault rifles out of sight on deck. The moms herded all us kids below decks. I fired up the TV camera on the main mast and we watched Dad’s progress.

Dad stayed in the open, and was soon joined by a man holding a long gun. They talked for a long time, and then shook hands. The man went behind a building and Dad returned to the boat.

He explained what he had learned. “Times are very bad around here. The flood, earthquake, and the storm killed anyone not on high ground and under cover. The survivors are desperate, hungry, and scared. Those that have provisions have to fight to keep them. There are roaming bands of thugs that take anything they want and kill anyone who objects. The man I spoke with, is Aaron Johnson, a CHP Sargent. He and his wife and two kids, live in the home where we saw the smoke. They have already had to fight off two different groups of thugs, and his wife was wounded in the last one. He asked if we would take his family to someplace that is safer. He has provisions and some weapons. It’s up to you Doc, but I vote we help them. He seems like a decent guy, and we may need another gun.”

Doc did not hesitate, “No question about it, we need them as much as they need us. I’ll get my medical bag.”

Dad pulled in the anchor and drove the Goose as close as possible to the shore. Dad and Doc, with assault rifles on their backs went ashore, and walked up the hill. Several minutes later, a pickup came down the hill. Doc helped a young woman and two kids into the boat. We helped them aboard, and April Hall took the boat back to the shore.

The pickup was full of provisions and survival equipment. It took three trips and all the remaining storage space to get it all on board.

A group of thugs on motorcycles appeared as we were bringing the inflatable back on deck. Again we kids were hustled below decks, this time to the sounds of gunfire.

Dad backed the Goose away from shore while our assault rifles returned fire and forced the thugs to take cover. We sailed back down toward Sacramento.

Doc had a car GPS that he fired up, and used it to anchor over the Capital Building. The sonar painted a picture of a pile of rubble. Dad unpacked the little submersible ROV, and it relayed a TV picture, which indicated much of downtown, had been heavily damaged in the earthquakes that proceeded the flooding. April Hall watched in silence, and then fled the bridge. Her sister, Allison Jacobs followed and Doc commented. “He’s gone.”

The next morning we started searching for a safe refuge to make a land base. A week later, up the Sacramento River, we found an isolated island that the map called Sutters Butte.  We sailed all the way around it, and found a cliff on the West Side, that made a natural wharf. Dad maneuvered the Goose up to it, and we tied up to a couple of big trees.

The island was seven miles long and ten miles wide. There were five abandoned summer homes scattered along it and a large meadow that became our communal garden site. Doc took the larger home, and it was designated as the Medical Center. Dad and I stayed living on the Goose, to keep an eye on things like keeping the bilge pumped. The other three families set up housekeeping in the other homes, and the first garden was planted.

After all the supplies were unloaded, We started doing some salvage and trading trips. We towed several floating cargo containers back to the island. One was full of new bikes and another had 4 new garden tractors and accessories. Others were useless, big screen TV’s, purses, electronics, and other junk. A container full of designer blue jeans and another of camping gear added to the trading booty.

We stopped at several places around the shores of the Inland Sea, where we found survivors. We mostly traded for food items, including live chickens, pygmy goats and rabbits. We also gave refuge to a few families with useful skills, including an ER Nurse, a machinist, a farmer, and a crewman from a tugboat. He said that the tug and a fuel barge it was towing had been abandoned in the delta when the water receded. He had a dirt bike on board and had used it to get to high ground.

The next trip we went looking for the tug and found it and the barge east of Stockton. It took a week of hard work, but we were able to get them both re-floated and the tug operational.