Jakarta Pandemic, The (62 page)

“What are you saying, Chief? Hold on, Captain,” said the lieutenant, covering the phone’s mouthpiece.

“Radar cross section was nine hundred and sixty thousand,” he said, his voice trailing off in disbelief.

He still couldn’t process his emotions. Everything had happened too fast. Repeating the radar cross-section brought a single emotion to the surface. Fear. His family lived ten miles in the direction of Richmond. His vision started to shrink and he barely heard the lieutenant’s reply.

“Meters? That can’t be right,” said the officer, walking toward the AEGIS console.

He glanced at the data over the chief’s shoulder and shook his head.

“Fuck. We have to get IMD on the line, Chief,” yelled Lieutenant Mosely, pulling Jeffries back from the precipice of emotional black hole.

“Captain. Chief Jeffries just confirmed that the target had a radar cross section over nine hundred thousand. Something has to be wrong. That would put the diameter over three hundred meters,” he said.

Jeffries waited for the lieutenant to continue the conversation, but heard nothing. He looked up at the officer, who pressed his ear against the receiver and squinted.

“Captain? Can you hear me? Chief, I think my call…”

His sentence was interrupted by a complete and sudden darkness. The Combat Information Center went dead for a second, before bulkhead mounted, battery powered LED “battle lanterns” started to provide illumination. The eerie silence continued.

“Shore power’s out. We should get power from one of the generators in a few seconds,” said the lieutenant.

Ten seconds elapsed, yielding no change to the eerie silence.

“I think we lost more than shore power,” said the Chief.

They heard someone knock on the hatch to CIC and open the door.

“CDO. They need you on the quarterdeck!” said a panicked voice.

Chief Jeffries stood up and started to walk with Lieutenant Mosely toward the hatch, but stopped when the metal beneath his feet started to shake. He felt the entire ship slide laterally, followed by a severe rumbling. Once the ship settled, he unsheathed a powerful LED flashlight from his belt and illuminated the young Hispanic woman’s face. She wore an expression of terror that shook Jeffries to the core.

“What happened?” said Mosely

“Norfolk Naval Base is on fire!”

Chapter Five

Monday: August 19, 2019

Jewell Island, Maine

Alex Fletcher stirred in the hammock, annoyed by the sudden bright light penetrating his eyelids. He opened his eyes, expecting to find Kate standing on one of the cockpit benches, aiming a flashlight directly into his face. Peering through the mesh cocoon suspending him from the boom, he found nothing out of place in the cockpit. Woken out of a deep sleep, his mind had not kicked into gear. He knew something was wrong, but simply couldn’t figure it out on a newly jumpstarted brain. A strange tingling sensation grew throughout his body, and for the briefest moment, he would have sworn under oath that the backstay radiated a faint, greenish-white aura.
Lightning strike!

He rolled himself out of the hammock and laid flat on the fiberglass cockpit floor, expecting to see and feel a massive bolt of electricity strike the boat’s mast. He’d never been close to a lightning strike before, but he’d read enough articles in outdoor adventure magazines to know the signs. Cowered against the portside bench, staring skyward like a primitive man-beast afraid of the heavens, he suddenly realized that he must have been dreaming. The sky was clear and full of stars, hardly a meteorological condition conducive to lightning. He stood up on the cockpit bench, grabbing hold of the boom for balance, when his brain finally registered the problem. The sun had risen in the wrong place and was fading quickly.

Alex had spent enough time at anchor in this cove to immediately identify all of the cardinal directions, without the use of a compass. His boat was pointed southeast, in the direction of the prevailing coastal winds, pulling lazily against the anchor line. Nine times out ten, he would wake up in this cove to the same scene. The cove’s narrow opening lay directly off the port side, and the
Katelyn Ann
faced directly into a tree-lined, rocky cliff. The sun always rose over the cliff, somewhere between the bow and cove’s entrance, spilling golden rays of warmth over the boat. Today it appeared due south, hidden behind the tallest part of the island where the cove ended. By the time Alex had ducked under the boom to get a better view, the light had vanished, returning the cove to pre-dawn darkness.

He scanned the horizon to the west, which was the only basic direction, other than the cove’s entrance, that was not obscured by the looming cliffs and massive trees of Jewell Island. A brilliant, undulating reddish glow immediately drew his attention, completely throwing his mind into overdrive. For another brief moment, he became thoroughly disoriented. Was he looking east at the rising sun? Logically, he knew this didn’t make any sense, but he couldn’t help but wonder. Nothing he had felt or seen since opening his eyes this morning had registered within normal parameters. Of course, he assumed it was the morning.

Alex checked his watch. 5:01 AM. He decided to close his eyes and start over. Sunrise was at 5:50. Morning Nautical Twilight began twenty minutes ago. He looked over his shoulder due east and could see a slight difference between the blackness above and the sky showing between the trees. The sun was rising. Good. He turned to stare at the surreal light show to the west, noting that it resembled a smaller, more menacing version of the aurora borealis. The reddish-purple spectacle changed shape and appeared to pulse over the entire southwest horizon.

He began to rub his face, but stopped and stared through his fingers, arrested by a single thought. Is this possible? A cold shiver raced through him, followed by an emotion he hadn’t experienced since the pandemic. Sheer dread. He lowered his hands to the boat’s starboard lifeline and shook his head.

“No. That’s not right,” he said, stepping into the cockpit to set his mind at ease.

He stepped aft, positioning himself behind the wheel where he could examine the boat’s floating gyrocompass dial. He pressed a small, rubber weatherproof button to illuminate the display, but the light failed to activate.
Shit.
He took a small LED flashlight out of his pocket and prayed that it would work. If not, they were definitely fucked. The light bathed the gyroscope, but didn’t ease his fears. The gyroscope was frozen one hundred and twenty degrees off from what he knew to be the right magnetic direction.

Slightly panicked, he fumbled to activate the digital chart plotter and navigation system mounted above the wheel. Nothing. The boat appeared to be dead. He reached for the engine ignition panel next to his right foot and opened the Plexiglas hatch. He turned the key and held his breath, not sure what would happen. The engine sputtered for a moment, but quickly turned over and started. The forty-horsepower Yanmar diesel engine hummed, vibrating cockpit and ruining the cove’s tranquility. He pulled the engine kill lever, manually stopping the flow of diesel to the engine and shutting it down. He was relieved the engine started so easily. With the engine working, they could reach the inner Portland Harbor in an hour and a half.

A light from the forward berth suddenly illuminated the cabin, flickering back and forth as the source drew closer to the cabin door. He closed the ignition panel, leaving the key in place, and stepped forward in the tight cockpit to intercept Kate at the screen door. Awoken by the unexpected engine start, she would no doubt be in a hurry to investigate. The door slid open just as he arrived, and he helped her up into the cockpit.

“Why did you start the engine? Did we slip anchor?” she said, shining the light in his face.

“We’re right where we should be…”

“Something is wrong with the lights,” she interjected, turning off her flashlight.

She was in rapid fire, question mode, no doubt brought on by her sudden wake up. Kate was a notoriously deep sleeper, who did not respond well to being jarred awake, under normal circumstances. On the boat she was an entirely different person. She understood the fluid nature of boating, which required quick action and made harsh demands on the body. Boats slipped anchorages, storms arrived unannounced and equipment failed…often in the middle of the night, always the least opportune time.

She’d grown attuned to the kinds subtle, out of place sounds that would have no chance of waking her from a foam mattress induced slumber on Durham Road. On the water, Kate and Alex were equals, waking up to the slightest changes in the boat’s orientation or splashing outside. She came back from these trips utterly exhausted, getting a brief, transient taste of how Alex felt year round.

“What do you think that is?” he said, pointing to the bright red and purple aura to the west.

She stared off into the distance, shaking her head slowly before finally shrugging her shoulders.

“Looks like the northern lights, but the wrong color. That’s not north, is it?” she said, finally rubbing her eyes and yawning.

“Southwest,” he stated, gripping her hand.

“Why did you start the diesel?” she insisted, still mesmerized by the colors dancing playfully above the southwestern horizon.

“Because I didn’t think it would start. I’ve seen pictures of that before. In 1962, the U.S. detonated a one point five megaton nuclear device four hundred kilometers above the Johnson Atoll in the Pacific. This is what they saw nine hundred miles away in Hawaii. None of our electronics work,” he said.

“Fuck. You don’t think that was a nuke, do you?” she said, stepping off the cockpit bench.

“I don’t know, but I saw a massive flash of light from the south,” he said, pointing over the island off the starboard side, “then I felt a strange tingling, like I was about to get hit by lightning.”

Kate let go of his hand and descended the cabin steps. Her flashlight illuminated the main cabin as soon as she hit the deck, and Alex heard her try to activate the VHF Marine Radio at the navigation table.

“The radio is dead. So is everything else at the nav station,” she said.

“All of the navigation gear is either connected to the radio antenna or the GPS receiver…all located at the top of our mast. An EMP wave would travel right down the wire and fry everything,” he said.

Kate directed the beam from her flashlight at his face in response to his statement.

“Will you stop blinding me with that damn light?” he said.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. Have you checked the portable electronics?” she said.

“No. Grab the handheld VHF and GPS plotter. That stuff should be fine. Get the cell phones too. I’m going to see if I can restore electrical power to the lights and a few other systems,” said Alex, approaching the cabin door.

“I wouldn’t worry about the lights. It’s almost dawn. Get the water pumps and the head working. What about the bilge pump?” she said.

“It’s hardwired to the battery bank, like the engine. Should be fine, but let’s check,” he said.

Alex waited for Kate to gather the handheld electronics from a cabinet above the navigation table and move to the small couch across Emily’s bed. Their daughter had begun to stir in her sleep, but hadn’t made any major movements. He really hoped she would stay asleep until they made a comprehensive assessment of their situation. They needed a little more time to think before adding a panicky teenager to the mix.

He illuminated the electrical panel and noticed that all of the breaker switches had been tripped. Alex expected to see this. He flipped all of the switches and tried the light mounted to the navigation table. Nothing. He knew it wouldn’t be that easy. The electrical surge generated by an EMP didn’t give surge protectors or breakers time to react to the change in current. Unlike a lightning strike or home surge, which builds up over the span of a few micro-seconds, the EMP surge is a front-loaded wall of energy that overwhelms these basic protections before they have time to “react. By the time the breaker trips or the surge protector closes the circuit, susceptible equipment down the line is damaged.

Beyond the microwave oven, radio and the navigation equipment, most of the gear connected to the boat’s electrical system didn’t contain any of the sensitive microchips susceptible to an amplified EMP wave. The lights should work, unless the breaker mechanism itself had been damaged by the intense current passing unchecked during those critical micro-seconds. He suspected this was the case, which meant that they would have to do without the electrical system on the return trip to Portland.

“The breaker appears to be damaged. We’ll have to use the manual pumps to draw water. As for the head, I’m not sure what we can do. I don’t think it works without electricity,” he whispered.

“Not a big deal. We’re not that far from Portland. The handheld stuff seems to works fine. Can you tell if we are getting a signal?” she said, holding up the illuminated GPS plotter screen toward him.

He was relieved to see that the device functioned. Expert opinion vastly differed on the impact of an EMP on small electronic devices. Some claimed that everything with a microchip would fail, while others thought that devices disconnected from the power grid, or a long wire, stood a fair chance of remaining functional. He took the GPS unit and examined the screen. The small satellite icon in the upper right corner indicated that the unit received a satellite signal. He navigated through a series of onscreen menus to get more information.

“It says we’re tracking six satellites. That’s good news. See if you can pick up anything on the radio. Let’s take this topside so we don’t wake the kids,” he said.

Kate followed him 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 the relatively calm demeanor he projected, he was terrified by the prospect of what lie ahead for them. He had little doubt that society would collapse. Confidence in the government’s ability to handle a major crisis was at an all time low.