Sedulity 2: Aftershock (Sedulity Saga) (12 page)

“Thanks, for checking,” Rachel said without any outward sign
of emotion. “I’m sure he drowned when we were separated. His burns were much
worse than mine. The flooding probably came as a relief.” She lowered her head
and closed her eyes, trying to recall all of the good times they had shared.

Amanda’s heart went out to her. She couldn’t leave the poor
woman sitting on a waterlogged couch. “Would you like to come up to the suite
where we’re staying? It’s right next to the bridge and wasn’t damaged last
night. I need to check on my daughter, but you can use the bed to get some
sleep. You look like you need it.”

“Thank you,” Rachel said with obvious surprise. “That sounds
like much more than I could have asked for.” She glanced at the other
passengers milling around outside the dining room and realized that none of
them would get such a good offer that day. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Summers.”

“Please call me Mandy, especially if you’ll be sleeping in
our bed today,” she smiled, trying to lighten Rachel’s mood a bit. “After
you’re rested I’ll ask Mrs. Krystos about finding you a bed of your own. I’m
afraid that most of the rooms were damaged by fire or flooding, but I’m sure
they’ll find beds for everyone, especially those injured as badly as you’ve
been.” Amanda inspected the bandages on Rachel’s face and arms. “Are you in
much pain?” she asked.

“Not much, Mandy,” Rachel replied, wincing when she tried to
smile.

“Well, let’s get you to bed,” Amanda said, leading Rachel
towards the atrium elevators. A crewman was stationed there to prevent
passengers from going to the upper decks. Even the staterooms that were deemed
habitable were still off-limits while the crew worked to clean up the mess.
However, Amanda was wearing Staff Captain Stevens’ foul weather gear and, when
she explained that her family had been placed in his former stateroom by
Captain Krystos himself, the crewman allowed them to use the elevator.

Riding up the side of the atrium in a glass elevator offered
a different perspective on the damage inflicted upon the
Sedulity
. Looking down to the bottom of the atrium, Amanda saw
members of the crew sifting through big piles of furniture and debris that had
been swept down from the decks above. When she saw them pull a body out from
one such pile, she realized that it could be Rachel’s husband, or would remind
her of his uncertain fate, so she pointed across the atrium at the decks they
were passing and said, “Oh dear, look at what’s happened to this beautiful
ship.”

 
Every deck showed some
degree of damage from fire and flooding. The ship’s two story library that
faced the atrium was a gutted shell of its former self. Nearly all of the books
had been stripped from the shelves when the ship encountered the tsunamis.
Those books now lay in soggy piles where the flooding had deposited them. The
internet café on the deck above was in equally bad shape, littered with
shattered computers, printers, and display screens. Even the card room looked
like a tornado had ripped through it, piling the card tables against one wall
and shattering the windows overlooking the atrium.

Exterior windows encircling the top of the atrium had also
been shattered, allowing wind driven rain to penetrate the ship. It was surreal
to see the rain fall down into the ten story atrium, providing the illusion
that the ship was still being flooded. Amanda could only imagine what it had
been like when giant waves engulfed the upper decks and poured into the atrium
like massive waterfalls. She shivered, remembering her own experience on the
forward stairwell when the flood waters had surged down the corridors and
threatened to sweep her and her daughter away with them. Amanda was relieved when
the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Rachel looked shocked by what she
had seen in the atrium and followed Amanda silently towards the bridge.

*****

Kevin Summers continued to study the weather station data and
monitor the satellite images that were updated every five minutes with
increasingly disturbing pictures of the expanding storm clouds. There was also
a television in the navigation room that was tuned to GNN. They were
broadcasting continuous live coverage of the unfolding disaster. Kevin was
listening to reports of devastation throughout Central America, caused not only
by tsunamis, but also volcanic eruptions in Nicaragua and Guatemala. Kevin took
particular note of the spreading volcanic dust clouds which were already
showing up on satellite images, spreading north towards Mexico. He was startled
when Captain Krystos stepped into the room from the bridge.

“How does it look now?” the captain asked. “Any change in the
weather?”

“Marginal improvement,” Kevin replied. “The wind hasn’t fallen
much since we turned into it and the pressure remains alarmingly low, but it’s
still too soon for that to mean much. If anything, I’d say the central storm is
intensifying and conditions are getting worse closer to the impact zone. That
means the effects are also spreading out, so it will be some time before we
outrun the increasing severity of this storm. It’s a good thing we turned away
when we did.”
 
Kevin touched the computer
keyboard and set up a continuous loop of local satellite images from the
previous hour.

“We’re right about here,” Kevin pointed west of the obvious
asteroid impact zone. “The expanding upper level cloud cover above us is moving
as fast as the jet stream at over two hundred miles per hour. Surface winds
don’t show up on these images, but you can see multiple areas of rotation where
upper and lower atmospheric forces are interacting. We can expect massive
tornados, or waterspouts, to develop in any of these locations.” He tapped
several spinning cloud formations on either side of the
Sedulity’s
current position.

“Heaven help us,” the captain intoned. “What will God throw
at us next? The kitchen sink?”

Kevin tried to offer a smile, failing in the face of grim
reality. “I wouldn’t be surprised by anything. An asteroid strike can unleash
almost every type of natural disaster imaginable. I’m afraid that tsunamis,
earthquakes, and volcanoes are just the beginning of what’s in store for the
world.”

“You really know how to cheer someone up, Mr. Summers,”
Captain Krystos said with half a grin. “Do you have any more good news to
share?”

“I’m afraid not,” Kevin admitted. “Not at the moment. I’m far
too worried about my home and all of my friends and coworkers being washed away
within the next half-hour.”

“Of course,” the captain said seriously. “I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean to make light of the situation. It must be horrible for you and other
passengers whose homes are in the path of this disaster. Please excuse my bad
timing and poor choice of words. We are truly indebted to you for all the
advice and assistance you’ve provided thus far.”

“My worries are nothing compared to yours, Sir,” Kevin said.
“My family is with me. My parents, and my wife’s parents, live far from the
West Coast. They should be safe for now. I’m terrified for my friends and
coworkers in Los Angeles. I probably won’t have a house or a job to go back to.
Nevertheless, we’re still alive. Our continued survival and the safety of this
ship are in your hands, Captain. I wouldn’t want to trade places with you for a
million dollars.”

“You forget that I’ve been relying on your advice since this
whole mess started. It’s been damned good advice, too, even if you directed us
a little too close to the point of impact for comfort. We’ll get through this.”
The captain paused to grip Kevin’s shoulder. “I still need your guidance, Mr.
Summers, and the rest of the world is desperate for the data you are collecting
here. As soon as internet access is restored, I want to transmit your weather
data and projections.”

“Of course, Captain,” Kevin said. “I’ll try to keep you
posted on the weather ahead of us too. It’s difficult to be precise with the
weather radar knocked out, but I can get a rough idea of conditions by
overlaying the latest satellite images onto the moving map GPS plotter.”

“Excellent,” the Captain said. “Keep me posted on any new
developments. We’ll be gathering in my dayroom while your president addresses the
nation. Please join us, if you want to.”

*****

Lieutenant Reiner felt much better after the captain addressed
the crowded theater and allowed the survivors to move into the main dining room
if they chose to. More than half of those in the theater had taken him up on
the offer. Reiner suspected that many of them were not really hungry, and that
their decision to leave the theater was influenced by a combination of
curiosity to see the damage outside, or a desire to hide from the terrible news
unfolding on television. Reiner understood both motivations and was glad for
their departure. It made his job easier to know that only those who chose to
watch the coming disaster on television would be exposed to it.

He saw Hank Donner return to the theater with two other
passengers on his heels. The Texan tipped his hat to Reiner and headed for an
empty row of seats near the front, ushering his companions in before taking the
aisle seat. Mr. Donner had been a pain in the ass for much of the previous
night. Now he seemed to be adapting to the crisis better than most. The man was
obviously used to the best of everything that money could buy, but he also
appeared to be a realist who knew how to adapt when necessary. Reiner would
keep an eye on him as both the source of potential trouble and, possibly, an
asset to the ship.

The lieutenant swept his gaze over the rest of the audience,
noting the tense atmosphere, and turned his attention back to the projection
screen. The sound had been restored and a panel of talking heads were making
guesses at how catastrophic the tsunamis would be when they hit California. The
scene switched to a view of the regular GNN anchorman, Fox Rusher, atop a
mountain with the earthquake ravaged city of Los Angeles behind him. The
familiar face looked far less composed than normal and his voice rose an octave
when he joined the conversation. Reiner wasn’t at all surprised.

“Time is running out for the people
of Southern California, and it seems certain that many of them will not reach
high ground before the tsunami waves arrive. Though we already know about
thousands of fatalities from the earthquake, those losses will fade in
comparison to what we expect to face next.”

“Yes, Fox, we understand the dire
situation there. The prayers of the nation and the world are going out to you
and everyone else caught in the path of destruction.”

“Thank you, John. It’s truly
terrifying for the people here. I can assure you that many of them are sending
prayers with far more urgency than those of our audience. It’s a matter of life
and death for millions of people along this coastline. Those able to reach high
ground today have done so. We can only pray that we are high enough above sea
level and far enough inland to survive what’s in store for us.”
 

“We’ll be following the situation
there in Los Angeles closely, Fox. Now we go live to the White House where the president
is about to address the nation.”

Everyone in the ship’s theater focused on the screen when the
Presidential Seal appeared. A few seconds later it was replaced by a live shot
of the Oval Office. The president sat motionless behind his desk, looking down
at his notes. Then he lifted his head, clasped his hands together on the desk
in front of him and began speaking.

“My fellow Americans, people of the
world, let us pray. Pray to God in your own way, according to your own beliefs,
and ask whatever higher power you pray to for mercy upon all those in peril
today. Pray for all the souls of those who have already been lost, and for
those soon to follow. Pray for the strength to accept the losses we suffer
today. And pray for the will to endure these trials and tribulations; the
strength to survive this test as a nation, a civilization; pray for the
strength and the commitment to help those who will suffer in the wake of this
catastrophe.”

The president paused and looked uncomfortable for a moment.

“I am not a preacher. I have not
always been openly religious, but I am a man of deep faith and conviction. I
feel closer to God and my spiritual roots now than ever before, for it is often
only in the depths of despair that we find salvation. As the old saying goes,
there are no atheists in a fox hole. Well, my friends, we are all in that fox
hole today.

“Our world has been struck by an Act
of God -- a disaster of biblical proportions. No one is to blame for what has
befallen our planet. No man, no nation, or group of nations, can stop the
forces of nature that have been unleashed until they run their course. We have
lost millions of human beings already today. Millions more will join their fate
before this day is done. Nothing can be done to change that. However, many of
us will live to see another day. We will live to mourn. We will live to
remember. We will live to rebuild. We will live for the sake of all we have
lost and all that can be ours once more.”
The president paused, as if he could feel the reaction
of the world to his words. He raised a hand to rub his temple, as if suffering
a migraine headache, and continued in a softer voice.

 
“I have done all that I could do to evacuate
people from the West Coast, though it was not nearly enough to prevent a human
catastrophe. Reports indicate that millions of our fellow Americans remain
trapped in the danger zone. My heart and my prayers go out to them and
everyone… who… oh…no….”
The president of the United States stopped short. His eyes opened wide
for a moment as his hand fell from his head to clasp his chest. Then his head
tilted forward and he collapsed face first onto the notes piled upon his
desk.