Kate followed Alex up the steps and into the cockpit, where a refreshingly cool sea breeze greeted them, evaporating the small beads of sweat that had formed on Alex’s forehead in defiance of the chilly, coastal air. Despite his demeanor, he was terrified by the prospect of what might lie ahead for them. If something big had indeed gone wrong, he had little doubt that society would quickly collapse. Confidence in the government’s ability to handle a major crisis was at an all-time low.
The 2013 flu pandemic had exposed the nation’s essential service infrastructure to a slow burn, which caused a rapid, critical failure across the board, launching the country into chaos. While the northernmost states and the upper Midwest had added freezing temperatures and winter storms to the disaster already unfolding, the warmer regions were hit the hardest. The harsh winter weather dampened and eventually extinguished the widespread rioting, looting and violence that continued unabated in cities like Atlanta, Dallas, and Los Angeles. Even the Mid-Atlantic cities saw their share of the devastating civil unrest that ultimately claimed just as many lives as the H16N1 virus.
Not much had changed on Capitol Hill. The likelihood of another pandemic virus striking in our lifetime was a statistical impossibility claimed the epidemiologists—and they were probably right. Funding for national emergency preparedness remained level and consistent with pre-2013 levels, with few politicians willing to suggest cuts, especially with over twenty-six million deaths attributable to the inadequate pandemic preparedness budget authorized by Congress in the years leading to the Jakarta Pandemic. Of course, with the U.S. economy making slow but steady gains, even fewer politicians were eager to increase disaster preparedness funding or spend money on infrastructure improvement programs. Major natural disasters had been shrugged off for decades, given a flurry of attention for a month and pushed to the sidelines.
Alex and Kate understood that the United States could not weather another nationwide disaster, and had taken the appropriate precautions to ensure the safety of family and friends. They would all converge on the isolated farm in Limerick, Maine, where they could live off the grid indefinitely, until society settled back into a routine.
Alex considered the flash of light. It had come from a different direction than the red aura. Was it possible that the United States had been attacked with nuclear weapons? One flash. That was all he had seen. He expanded the scale on the handheld GPS plotter to make a quick calculation. He created a waypoint over Boston and started the navigation function. The system plotted a straight course from the boat to the waypoint.
Standing in the open cockpit of their boat, staring at the blood-red aura, his vision narrowed. He sat down next to Kate and took a deep breath.
“We have to get back fast. I give it two, maybe three days before all hell breaks loose in Boston. We need to get Ryan out of there,” said Alex.
Kate sighed. “If it hasn’t been nuked.”
He stood up and compared what he saw on the GPS chart to their physical orientation in the cove.
“The flash was centered there,” he said, pointing his entire hand directly south. “Boston is almost twenty-five degrees to the right of that. A nuke would go off directly over the city. This is somewhere pretty far off Cape Cod,” he said, not completely convinced by his logic.
Alex placed the GPS receiver on the top of the cabin and pulled Kate off the bench. He embraced her tightly, but kissed her neck gently. He drew his face even with hers.
“I’m just as scared as you about Ryan. He’s going to be fine. We’ll get this boat back to Portland, and I’ll bring him home, I promise,” he said.
She nodded and met his lips for a brief moment, then laid her head on his shoulder.
“I know it’ll be fine. We’ll be fine,” she said, sitting back down and rubbing her face.
“I think we should wait until there’s enough light to see the lobster pots on the water. The last thing we need is to tangle the prop and kill the engine. It’s 5:09 right now. Sunrise is at 5:50. We get underway fifteen minutes after that. That gives us plenty of time to get our shit together, secure for sea—maybe try to raise someone on the handheld radio. I wish we had one of the satellite phones. If the GPS satellites are still working, maybe the satphone network is still intact,” said Alex.
“Remind me why we don’t bring a satphone out on the water?” she said.
“Because we don’t go far enough out to need one. We never leave Casco Bay.”
“I think we need to add that to the required equipment list,” Kate said.
“If we take another sailing trip, I’ll make sure to throw one in the bag.”
Kate stood up. “I’ll wake the kids and start tidying up below.”
The wind picked up, and the boat started to swing on the anchor line to face due south. Alex heard a few trees snap in the distance.
“Get below!” he yelled. “Now!”
Through the clear vinyl window of the dodger, he saw the leading edge of a powerful blast wave explode through the trees. He pushed Kate down the stairs and ducked his head below the cabin overhead moments before a dark wave of rocks and tree limbs pounded the sailboat. The boat lurched sideways with the initial blast, knocking Alex into the galley, where he tumbled to the deck and smashed his elbow against the counter. Within seconds, the debris shower abated, leaving them in absolute silence. The sailboat’s hull creaked against something in the water.
“Ethan! You all right back there?” he yelled through the open hatch a few feet away behind the galley.
“I’m fine. What happened? The lights don’t work,” said Ethan.
“Grab your flashlight and get dressed. I need you out here in thirty seconds. Emily, change in the vee-berth. All hands on deck immediately,” Alex ordered. “We have a problem.”
“You think?” said Kate.
“You have no idea. We need to go topside to clear the mess and assess damage. We don’t have much time.”
Kate looked at him quizzically. “I thought we weren’t leaving for another hour?”
“I don’t think that’s an option anymore. Talk about this topside?” he said, pointing at the open hatch at the top of the stairs.
When Alex’s head emerged through the cabin hatch, the first thing he noticed was a half-inch-thick layer of dirt covering every horizontal surface in the open cockpit. Rising further, he scraped his head on something solid. He directed his flashlight upward to see a jagged, two-inch-diameter branch protruding above his head, blocking him from climbing the rest of the ladder. He pushed the branch to the right and squeezed through the opening.
“Be careful coming up,” he called behind him to Kate.
The branch had speared the left vinyl window of their dodger, stopped by the thick tangle of smaller branches that struck the dodger’s dense, aluminum frame. If he hadn’t pushed Kate out of the way to get down the ladder, the shredded edge of the branch could have impaled him. He felt dizzy and wanted to take a seat, but there was no time for it. He pushed the near death experience out of his head and stood on the cockpit bench to assess the situation.
His flashlight revealed the rest of the fifteen-foot branch hanging over the starboard side of the boat, straining the sailboat’s lifelines. Kate’s flashlight probed the port side of the boat.
“I see a few branches and rocks, but nothing else. How’s your side?” he asked.
“Same. This branch is the worst of it,” she said, directing her light at the torn end protruding through the dodger window. “Jesus,” she whispered, touching the sharp edge of the branch.