6:00 Hours: A Dystopian Novel (9 page)

Robert had always focused on climate issues during his political career. Much of his interest arose from his personal experiences with disasters. His parents had suffered health consequences of poor air quality, nutrient shortages from a lack of certain types of food, and had seen two homes destroyed by fires. When they both died when Robert was in college, he added environmental studies to his political science major.  Robert met Elisa at a prepper convention where they both spoke; Elisa about her personal experience and Robert about his political message. Elisa was a hurricane survivor and from a family of committed preppers. Their preparedness had saved their lives; when they felt those first strong gusts of wind off the ocean, they bugged out to a hurricane-proof shelter Elisa’s father had outfitted with three days’ worth of supplies. Robert was fascinated by her story and asked her out for coffee. A year later, they were married. Three months after that, Robert was elected to his first political post as a committee member for carbon emission policies in the Capitol.

              Prepping was still relatively uncommon during those early years. It was still something most people felt was unnecessary, at least to the extent that people like Elisa and Robert recommended.

              “Two days isn’t enough,” Elisa argued. “Everyone needs to be prepared for at least two weeks.”

Elisa used her husband’s position to form a group of politicians’ wives who set up what could only be compared to a food drive, but for packages of emergency supplies that would last two weeks. Elisa’s family had not come from wealth; she understood that a big reason people did not prep long enough was because of the cost.

“We need to make it as inexpensive and easy as possible for people to prepare,” she said to Robert. “All these companies sell their products for way more than they’re worth and tack on all these fancy accessories that really aren’t necessary, so it makes it hard for most people to stockpile. It’s criminal that surviving should become wealth dependent.”

Elisa’s emergency supply drives were a massive success. Lured by the appeal of writing off charitable donations, people brought canned vegetables, fruit, meat, boxed pasta, spices, towels, first aid kits, batteries, candles, matches, winter clothes, and more to Elisa and her friends, who spent hours packaging everything together into two-week emergency supply kits. Anyone who wanted one could come and pick it up outside Elisa and Robert’s apartment. Robert’s campaign advisor suggested Elisa include a “Vote for Robert” button, but Robert wasn’t too fond of the idea.

“Politics and emergency preparation shouldn’t be tied so close together,” he explained. “A lot of the folks involved in the kits aren’t even in my party, it’s a joint effort. No, we’re not going to go there.”

The buttons were not even necessary. Everyone knew who Elisa and her husband were, and Robert easily won re-election when the time came. By then, Robert had babies on his mind, and Danny was born that same election cycle on a crisp autumn morning. They didn’t plan on having more children, but five years later, Rachel was born. Robert was elected as a Senior Region Representative and a few days after Rachel turned six, the President made history by devoting an entire speech to informing the public of abrupt climate change. The next day, Robert got a call and was informed he had been chosen to head the new Emergency Climate Aid Group.

For people like Robert, the dangers of abrupt climate change had been a well-known fact and an issue they had been digging into politically for some time, but having the President announce it to the nation and the world set it in stone. The shift was obvious. In Rachel and Danny’s schools, entire lesson plans were structured around teaching kids what foods to store, what clubs and activities would help them develop post-society skills (woodworking, archery, canning), and so on. Rachel made poster boards and Danny tried to develop better methods for emergency broadcasts. While Robert battled for green energy and allocated resources for climate-related disasters at the Capitol, Elisa fortified the homefront with a stockpile, DIY defense system, and knowledge.

This morning, Robert’s usual rituals did not soothe him. His normal radio stations were inundated with weather reports and his commute was clogged by rain and traffic. He drove the thirty minutes out of the city to ECAG’s base on the outskirts in relative silence. Robert had Rachel on his mind. The last time he talked to her she was trapped dangerously close to the coast. Unable to drive further inland and with all the hotels full, she had taken shelter with a family. It was a comfort, knowing she was with good people, but Robert knew if the situation turned, their primary concern would be their own skins and not Rachel. Elisa was more optimistic. She had to be. Her own family had always been generous and Elisa’s work with charity revealed the best in people. It had been a while since she had experienced the worst, and she didn’t like to think about it. Sitting in his car outside the office, gathering his thoughts, Robert’s mind drifted back to the last conversation with his daughter.

“I’ll call a few people,” he had said. “I’m sure we can arrange something. Nothing’s flying out, of course.”

“Of course. Any news about hurricanes? Tropical storms?”

“No one knows for sure. Things could be brewing, but it’s really hard to get in touch with the local offices. Just...be careful, okay? Try to act like there’s a hurricane barreling towards you.”

“If that was the case, I probably wouldn’t do anything. I can’t drive in a hurricane.”

“True, true. Well, I trust you. You’re smart.”

“Thanks.”

There wasn’t anyone to call. The ECAG pilots were all needed grounded, ready to set out when they were called, and it was still too dangerous to fly out. When Robert had talked to Rachel, it was true that there had been no official warnings issued, and communication between headquarters and the coast was spotty. It was extremely frustrating. Robert stepped from his car, opening an umbrella above him, and went into the office. He shook off the raindrops at the door and allowed an intern to take his coat, who whisked it away to a closet marked with Robert’s name.

“Good morning, sir,” an administrator said, appearing from the elevator perfectly on cue, as if she was in a stage play.

“Morning, Claire. What do the skies tell us today?”

“Much of the same, sir. It’s the earth we’re concerned about. There was an earthquake on the Emerald Coast. 7.3 magnitude. About forty minutes ago. We’re not sure how much it affected the population, it was sea-based, but it could trigger a tsunami.”

“Jesus,” Robert groaned.

He took the folder from Claire and read it while the elevator went up to his floor. Claire stood by silently, her arms folded across her chest. The elevator played some upbeat instrumental jazz; an absurd choice given the circumstances. The elevator dinged, signalling their arrival. Robert handed the folder back to Claire.

“Get me the Emerald Coast on the phone,” he ordered. “And if their communication is still screwed up, whoever is closest.”

Claire nodded and disappeared down the opposite end of the hall. Robert entered his office and sat in his chair with a heavy sigh.

Rachel.

Robert got out his cell phone. The background wallpaper was of the whole family: Elisa, Rachel, Danny, and Danny’s family. The photo had been taken in the spring outside Robert and Elisa’s brownstone home. Everyone looked like they were laughing at something. Robert smiled. Rachel had been stressed that visit; she had been busy with a big project for school. She still brought so much sunshine with her though, always ready with a smile or sweet observation. And so smart. Rachel was the brainiac of the family. Those brains might just be what would save her life. Robert selected her name from his contact’s list.

Come on,
he thought.

Nothing. Robert tried again. Nothing again. He should tell Elisa. Robert was reluctant to bring her only bad news, but she would see it on TV soon enough. It was better to hear it from him. He called his wife but only got her voicemail.

“Hi, honey, it’s me. I just wanted to let you know that there was a tornado on the Emerald Coast. I couldn’t reach Rachel, maybe you’ll have more luck. Things will get pretty busy around here, so I might not be able to take a call from you for a bit. I love you!”

Robert thought he sounded odd on the message, strained like he was reading poorly from a script. He didn’t have long to muse on that as Claire entered the office.

“Emerald Coast on line 1, sir,” she said.

Robert picked up the office phone, pressing the line 1 button.

“Emerald Coast, this is Director Morgan.”

“Baxter here, sir. How are you?”

“Not great, to be honest. You just experienced an earthquake, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir, it is.”

“What are your plans for issuing hurricane or tsunami warnings?”

There was an uncomfortable pause. For a moment, Robert was afraid they had lost the connection, but he could hear rustling and low voices in the background.

“Hello?”

“My apologies, Director,” Baxter interjected. “I just talked to my people and we are not issuing any official warnings at this time.”

Robert was not sure what he had just heard. He frowned.

“What’s that?”

“We’re not issuing any official warnings yet.”

“In God’s name, why not?” Robert blurted.

“Our scanners aren’t showing anything immediate, Director. We don’t want to terrify people to an unnecessary degree.”

Baxter’s calm, nearly condescending tone, got under Robert’s skin and he bit his lip before speaking again.

“It is the ECAG’s strong recommendation that you issue a warning. Regardless of the specifics, there will be a consequential effect from this earthquake and the coast needs to be informed of it.”

There was another pause. Robert’s heart was pounding. He rubbed the top of his head, impatiently waiting a reply.

“Yes, Director,” Baxter finally said. “I understand.”

“Good.”

Robert hung up the phone. Claire, who had been standing there the whole time, gave Robert a curious look.

“Everything all right, sir?”

“This guy,” Robert replied. “Baxter. He wasn’t going to issue any kind of official warning.”

“That’s stupid,” Claire said, frowning.

“Yeah, it is. Try to get me some info on him, when you have time. What else is going on right now?”

“Thunderstorms moving in here, sir. And tornadoes forming in the middle regions.”
              “Do they look bad?”

“If I’m being completely honest…”

“As you should be.”

“Of course. It’s bad. The screens are lighting up like I have never seen before, sir.”

Before Robert could respond, a frazzled young man rushed into the office. He tapped lightly on the open door to announce his presence before looking at Claire and Robert, his eyes squinted to barely visible slits.

“Yes?” Robert said.

The young man cleared his throat before saying, “Sir, the earthquake triggered a tsunami on the Emerald Coast. It looks like it’ll reach land before an official warning can be issued.”

2.

Upon hearing the news, Robert winced and removed his glasses. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

“What’s your name, son?” he asked quietly.

“Michael, sir.”

“Michael,” Robert continued, “Why do we have the most expensive climate tracking technology on the planet if we can’t even warn people about what’s heading their way?”

              Michael hesitated. Robert’s tone clearly signaled that the question was rhetorical, but Michael didn’t want to just stand there mute. He glanced at Claire and cleared his throat before answering.

              “I don’t know, sir.”

              “When can the pilots fly in?”

              “Um, not until after the tsunamis hit, and not until they determine flying is safe.”

              Robert sighed again. He hoped Rachel had taken his advice to act as if a hurricane was on its way. She was smart, but so young. The earthquake would have been enough to get her moving. But where would she go? Could she outrun the water?

              “Well, when is the tsunami supposed to hit?”

              “The, the tracker isn’t showing a time, sir,” Michael stuttered.

              Robert looked at Michael with exasperation.

              “What?”

              “You should come to the tracker room,” Michael insisted.

              He had sweat beading on his forehead. Michael had not been with the group very long and had not seen a series of disasters this bad before. People didn’t know it yet, but no one had seen it this bad. Robert put his glasses back on and followed Michael out of his office.

“Get me the intel on Baxter and the Emerald Coast office,” he said to Claire as he left.

“Right away, sir,” she replied.

In the hallway, people were scrambling around like ants, papers spilling from their hands.

              “It’s a real mad house today, huh, Michael?” Robert remarked.

              “Yes, sir.”

              “Do you have family at risk?”

              “Pretty much everyone does, in one way or another, sir. With so many tornadoes and the storms coming off the coast.”

              “True, true. But what about
you?
What specific way?”

              Michael looked a little surprised at being singled out so intently. He had expected Director Morgan to be easily distracted - too overwhelmed - by all his responsibilities to ask personal questions.

              “My brother and his family,” Michael replied. “They’re close to the Ruby Coast. There’s nothing real big going on there, but the storms are getting bigger. I got a text from my mother that they bugged out. They have to be careful of tornadoes, though.”

              Robert shook his head. Safe from one disaster only to face another. The day was insane. Robert had to focus. As soon as it was possible to send out choppers to assess damage and get help to those who needed it most, he had to issue those orders. Local authorities would need support. When ECAG was formed, Robert emphasized its commitment to providing resources for existing aid organizations. It not only saved money in the long-run, but it gave the power back to the people who knew best where aid was needed. Local ECAG offices worked to compile standing lists of needed supplies and information as well as disaster-specific Intel which they provided to the Capitol. That way, aid could be given out directly from local authorities to their specific area without needing to contact ECAG headquarters. This was especially important in cases where all communication might be wiped out.

              The tracker room was in the basement; in a concrete room fortified against tornadoes, and sealed in case of flooding. It only made sense that the hub of the nation’s climate data be secure against the worst kind of weather. Countless large screens lit up the otherwise relatively dimly-lit room. Ten technicians and their assistants turned from screen to screen, typing on their keyboards. Phones rang and printers whirred, spitting out data reports that worker drones ran up and down the elevators to their respective bosses. Michael pointed to the first screen - the Emerald Coast - and gestured to a chair, but Robert chose to stand.

              “Is there anything else you need, sir?”

              “I’m good. Thank you, Michael. Carry on.”

              Michael nodded and went back the way he came. His phone had been buzzing in his pocket and he was eager to answer it. Robert turned his attention to the large screen.

“So what are we looking at?” he asked the technician, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder.

Robert recognized the tech as Omid, one of the more recent technicians to come into the tracker program. He was a quiet, but a very efficient worker, which was exactly the kind of person who did well in the basement staring at a bright screen all day. It was not a glamorous job, but the pay was exuberant to match the hours. Omid craned his neck back to look at Robert.

“What do you want to see first?” he asked. “The whole region is lit up.”

Storm patterns peppered the screen like seashells, moving off from the sea and further inland. Robert tried to think about where Rachel might be, but he forced himself to be more objective.

“Show me the tsunami.”

Omid zoomed in and pointed. The pattern was unmistakable. It looked like a blanket spread across the sea, drawing closer to the coast, rippling red and yellow, like a child had spilled their paint on the screen.

“What’s the estimated arrival time?” Robert asked grimly.

“Five minutes, sir.”

“And we somehow didn’t manage to issue a warning after the earthquake for this?” Robert asked, his voice dripping with bitterness.

“We told the office a tsunami was very likely after the earthquake, sir,” Omid said, defending himself.

“The local office?”

“Yes, sir.”

Robert frowned.

“Baxter is the head guy there, right? Kirk Baxter?”

“I believe so.”

Robert, still frowning, watched the tsunami stretch across Omid’s screen. Some of the worker drones paused in their persistent print-and-carry to stand by and watch. Some held their breath. Seeing the colors blend into the land was so eerie when it was digital; what was such a small thing on the screen was so dramatic in reality.

“It hit,” Omid said quietly.

              Robert watched helplessly as the tsunami waters tracked higher and higher. The sensors were definitely doing their job. It was almost funny, how all this new technology could tell a person just how bad a disaster was, but nothing about how to stop it or how to deal with it. Rachel was in all that, somewhere, in those flowing lines and patches of color.

              “Sir, I know your son is in Stoneholt,” Omid said, his voice still lowered. “So I feel I should tell you there’s been a tornado there.”

              Omid turned to the tech beside him and pointed to the screen. Ripples of color showed where strong winds and the right weather conditions had created funnels all over the middle regions. Once so focused on Rachel, Robert’s mind leapt to Danny. Tornadoes were much faster than tsunamis - even a tsunami as fast as the one they just witnessed. Within minutes a tornado could destroy a whole neighborhood. There was so little warning. So little time.

“Are there choppers on their way?”

“Yes, sir, they got ready for takeoff as soon as the first funnels showed up, according to protocol.”

“And how soon can we get out to the coast?”

“As soon as the head pilot gives the go-ahead. It’s a visibility issue, sir.”

As Robert fought panic, the phone beside the screen rang.

              “It’s your line, sir,” Omid said, glancing over at the receiver.

              Robert picked it up, clearing his throat before speaking.

              “Director Morgan,” he said as coolly as possibly.

              “It’s me, Elisa”

              It sounded like she had been crying. Robert wished she wasn’t alone, no doubt glued to the computer or TV, watching the horror unfold before her, totally helpless. Robert felt the same way, but he knew watching the readings on the climate tracker was very different from watching media footage on the news. The climate tracker stripped away the human element from disasters entirely and just presented raw data: water salinity, water depth, wind speed, rainfall, and so on. On TV, Elisa was seeing houses ripped up by wind, streets swallowed up by seawater, and people running and screaming.

              “Did either of the kids call?” Robert asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

              “You talked to Rachel last,” Elisa said. “Before the earthquake. I talked to Danny not long after you left, they were heading to the basement.I haven’t heard from him since,” Elisa said. “I’m really worried, Robert.”

              Robert rubbed the top of his head. The thought crossed his mind that if he kept doing it, he‘d rub all the hair clean off.

              “He’ll get to a phone as soon as he can,” Robert said, trying to comfort his wife. “The tornadoes could have easily knocked the cell towers out. Same with Rachel and the storm.”

              “I guess you’re right.”

              The second line on Robert’s phone began to blink.

              “Hey, I’m getting another call! It could be one of the kids. Hang on, ok?”

              “Ok! I’ll wait.”

Robert pressed the button.

“Hello?”

“Director Morgan?”

“Speaking.”

“This is Charles Black, from the President’s office. I have the Vice President on the line. May I connect you, sir?”

Within a few moments, Robert had the Vice President, Raymond Terrace, on the line. He sounded calm and collected, but the worry was present in his deep voice. Robert waved his hand to instruct everyone to be quiet.

“Of course, Mr. Vice President. To what do I owe this phone call.”

“The President would like to invite you to lunch at Milos. We would like to discuss this weather situation.”

As always, the VP got right to the point. He wasn’t a charismatic figure, not like Fitzwilliam, but he did his job well.

“We will send a car to your office in twenty minutes. Is that convenient?”

“It is, thank you.”

“We will see you then.”

Robert waited until he heard the VP hang up the phone. When he turned, the entire room was facing him, staring.

“Back to work everyone,” Robert said, in a faux annoyed tone. “It was just the President wanting to have lunch.”

“What does that mean? He doesn’t usually find it necessary to be briefed directly,” Omid remarked.

“I suppose he’s realized just how serious the situation is,” Robert said. “We’ll find out.”

Robert decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator. He wanted the extra time to collect his thoughts. Omid was right; it was unusual for the President to want to meet directly about any weather events. There was an office in the ECAG building specifically staffed to update the President on all disasters and orders. Because ECAG was only technically a government agency, Robert did not need presidential permission to send out his non-military rescue/aid, though it was recommended. It made sense though, that in these circumstances the President would want to get more details. Robert had just reached his floor when his thoughts shifted again; to his children this time. Anxiety bubbled up in him, making him feel nauseated. He paused to take a few deep breaths.

Keep it together, Robert,
he told himself.
There are a lot of people depending on you right now. Not just Elisa and the kids. Everything’s going smoothly, the pilots will leave as soon as they can, Danny’s got aid coming his way. You’re doing everything you can. Keep cool.

Robert had hoped his anxiety would not be hereditary, but he knew at least Danny struggled with it as well. Rachel seemed better at managing her stress and was not as affected by the little things like Danny always had been. What were they going through at this moment? It did not even cross Robert’s mind that they could be dead. The worst consequence he could fathom was that they were gravely injured. The thought of that made his heart race and his head spin.

Keep it together.

Having reached his floor, Robert searched for Claire and found her getting coffee in the lounge area.

“Claire!” he called. “We’re having lunch with the President.”

Claire set down her mug, surprised.

“Sir?”
              “He wants more updates on this crisis.”

“Do you think he wants to send in the military?” Claire asked, following Robert to his office.

“Maybe,” Robert postulated. “Did you get any info on Kirk Baxter?”

“I did,” Claire said, pulling out her phone. “He was actually one of the President’s picks from a few years ago.”

“Oh,
that
whole thing. Where Fitzwilliam insisted on having a say in some of the new appointments.”