Zero Point (44 page)

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” Clark responded, relieved to hear any positive news under these circumstances. “What can we expect as far as wave height?”

“It’s difficult to be precise, but our people feel we may see a tsunami run-up of thirty to fifty feet, possibly more. Seeing we have no tsunami buoys in the Atlantic Ocean, it’s a best guess scenario. We are pretty sure that the worst of the wave will impact the Mid-Atlantic States.

“Rest assured, Mr. President, there will still be tremendous damage from the momentum of this tsunami. Structural damage will be significant, but its run-up inland should be greatly reduced. Although it is still bad, we think it is likely to affect two to three miles inland from the coast line rather than the original ten to fifteen we predicted,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr. Clarkson. Let us know if you discover anything new. Good-bye,” Clark said, hanging up the phone.

“All we can do now is
wait
, gentlemen,” President Clark said, folding his hands together. “We wait, and hope for the best.”

39

Atlantic City, New Jersey

I
t was a typical warm summer evening in the posh New Jersey resort town of Atlantic City. Towering hotel casinos lined the beach, and the setting sun’s rays shimmered off their glass facades. Interspersed among the glamorous casinos on the strip were a multitude of high-rise condominiums and apartment complexes, home to many long-time residents who lived and worked in the thriving resorts.

This evening was markedly different. The normally bustling city streets were strikingly devoid of activity, casting the resort area into an eerie silence never before witnessed. The countless tour buses that inundated the town on a daily basis were nowhere to be found. Most had been commandeered by the New Jersey State Emergency Management Team for the evacuation of the city's countless visitors and residents who had no means of escape from the danger zone.

The Atlantic City Medical Center transported its patients to the outlying community hospitals, where they received the
care that was needed. Critical patients were being airlifted to specialized facilities in Camden and Philadelphia.

The only people remaining were those who opted to stay, in total disregard of the evacuation order issued earlier in the day. Many residents felt a false sense of security in the numerous casino towers and residential high-rises that lined the beachfront of Pacific Avenue.

There were others that remained in defiance of the evacuation order. Lawless, anarchistic mobs now roamed the silent streets, plundering and looting the vacant shops, stores, and hotels that lined the streets and boardwalk.

These bands of armed gangs were kept at bay by the authorities earlier in the day. However, the emergency management’s mandated retreat from the danger zone at 5:30 allowed the hordes of looters and criminal elements to make their presence known.

Numerous, bloody firefights erupted throughout the city. The most violent were the attempted assaults on the casinos, where outnumbered security personnel did their best to halt the onslaught. The few casinos that completely evacuated were totally ransacked by multitudes of fortune seekers. Overturning and smashing thousands of slot machines on the casino floors, they carried their ill-gotten booty of coins out using table cloths from the many restaurants within.

Hundreds of armed people now wreaked havoc in the streets, committing murders, robbery, and rape on a grand scale. These were the worst of mankind; the debased, cruel,
and anarchistic ones. They held no fear of justice and rejected any sense of remorse. They killed for the sheer joy of it, and shot at the occasional state police helicopter that came within range.

Law and justice ceased to exist at this dark moment in time, but a justice more cruel and swift than anyone’s worst nightmare was moments away. Indiscriminate in its fury toward the innocent or the guilty, its unseeing and uncaring malevolence moved in like a veil of death.

At 7:03 PM eastern time, more than a thousand people reveled on the vacant boardwalk and beach. They enjoyed their bounty of stolen money, beer, and liquor, courtesy of many businesses throughout the city. Many violent encounters erupted, most ending in gunfire as bodies lie scattered all along the town’s beaches. It was a massive celebration of lawlessness, with most in attendance intoxicated beyond any semblance of sound reason and oblivious to the fate that was about to consume them.

The New Jersey State Police helicopter approached from the downtown area, flying north towards the midtown section by the beachfront. Under command of the emergency management team stationed off shore in nearby Galloway Township, Trooper Tom Putney was making one final pass in a last ditch effort to warn those who might be foolish enough to remain on ground level.

To his utter amazement, he saw the throngs of people milling on the beach and boardwalk, with many actually swimming in the ocean.

“Command, this is Zulu-Victor-two-six-three. I’m coming up on the mid-town sector now. Be advised, hundreds of people are on the beach and many are in the water. I’m going to try to warn them. Over….” he said, reducing his speed and coming to a hover high above the boardwalk.

“Roger, Zulu-Victor-two-six-three; be alert for weapons fire. Other patrols report being shot at from the ground. Over….” the dispatcher responded.

“Copy that, command, will advise. Out….” Putney replied. He picked up the external PA microphone and switched it on, then began descending toward the boardwalk. “To you people on the beach: you must get to higher ground immediately. Failure to do so will put you at extreme risk of losing your lives,” he shouted into the microphone, above the disturbance of the helicopters rotors.

He saw the flashes of gunfire immediately erupt from below him. One bullet smashed through the fuselage just above his head and exited the other side of the aircraft.

“Damned fools,” he yelled, quickly pitching the helicopter away from the boardwalk and passing over the beach in the direction of open water. He checked the gauges for any sign of engine trouble from the barrage, but could see none. Reaching a distance off the beach that was safe from gunfire,
he saw a forty-six foot Cigarette speed boat cruising slowly below him.

My God! They’re having a party,
Putney thought in stunned disbelief. He
came
to the realization that there was nothing he, nor anyone else, could do for these misguided people. Putney prepared to swing his craft around to leave, but stopped when he saw a sight that he would carry to his grave.

The water’s edge began to draw back from the beach, further and further, as if a gigantic blue-green carpet was being rolled up. The velocity of the outflow turned the Cigarette boat completely around and carried it with the rushing current until it finally bottomed out on the sand. The sleek, bright red craft was left sitting high and dry, more than three thousand feet away from what used to be the shore line.

Putney could do nothing but stare at the horror-stricken faces of the boaters as they abandoned the speed boat and began running wildly toward the beach. Most of them became bogged down immediately in the loose muddy bottom, stuck like flies in a spider’s web. Putney could see their silent screaming and desperate waves to him for help.

He glanced at the beachfront to see a mass of people strolling down to the now exposed ocean bottom, seeking a closer look at the phenomenon.

Putney, not able to endure the sight anymore, decided to leave. As he spun the craft around, he witnessed a sight that would haunt him for years. His eyes locked on a rapidly
approaching, monstrous wall of white foaming water. Higher and higher, the boiling maelstrom rose from the depths. The sixty-foot high wall of death and destruction bore down on the unfortunate individuals on shore, their fates now sealed.

He saw the boaters once stuck in the mire beneath him vanish under the crushing force of the huge wave. He averted his gaze as those on the beach desperately trying to flee the onslaught were swallowed up by the rushing torrent mere seconds later.

The huge wave, driven by tremendous pressure, hit the famous Atlantic City boardwalk with a thunderous crash. It splintered the planking into millions of lethal shards as it continued to rush into the city streets. Cars, trucks, and people were washed away by the white foaming death. The front of the massive wave smashed into the plate glass window fronts of the casinos, causing a roaring deluge of debris-laden water to flow through their lower floors. It leveled everything and drowned anyone in its path.

Putney rose in altitude as he surveyed the specter of death and destruction. His mouth had gone dry and his hands trembled from the magnitude of the upheaval he was witnessing below. From his higher vantage point, he watched as the wall of water swept across the entire city landscape, exiting at the bay front and continuing toward the mainland. He could hear the excited reports coming across the radio from the many helicopter pilots in the area. They vividly described the catastrophe they were witness to. Putney
remained silent, however, numbed by the awesome power of nature he just observed.

He looked down upon the ghastly sight of floating cars, debris, and bodies. The waters flowing through the city streets were blackened by dirt and debris stirred up as the wave continued its destructive march inland. After what seemed an eternity for Putney, the waters begin to flow back out to sea. Like a giant vacuum, it carried a mass of refuse and ravaged bodies with it; back to the abyss from where it came. Putney saw many survivors on the rooftops of the hotels and high rise condos. They stood huddled together, beholding the devastating spectacle below them. He finally found the inner strength to contact his superiors.

Still shaking as he watched a multitude of bodies flowing back into the dark ocean, he said with a breaking voice, “Command…they’re all dead. Those on the ground never had a chance.”

“Roger, Zulu-Victor-two-six-three,” the dispatcher said solemnly. “You did all that you could. We have to concentrate on the survivors now. Do you want to return to base for relief?”

“No,” he replied after a moment's reflection, “I’ll start plotting survivor locations for Coast Guard rescue teams. There are many stranded on the rooftops that are going to have to be evacuated. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us, Command,” he said gravely, “a lot of work.”

40

T
he aftermath of the great tsunami was a daunting effort to recover from. Fortunately, the wave held to the expectations of U.S. Geological Survey scientist Peter Markson, limiting its devastation to less than three miles inland. It was a reprieve for the communities that populated the eastern seaboard and the lives of millions were spared. The wave height was even less in the far northern and southern states, limiting the amount of destruction in some of the most highly populated areas.

The sad testimony of the looters and criminals played out relentlessly in the world media, but in reality, a vast majority of unsung American heroes stepped forward in the tsunami’s aftermath. Good and caring Americans rose to the occasion, flooding the east coast with an outpouring of money, supplies, and volunteers from all over the country. Relief workers in the thousands flocked to the stricken shores to respond to the disaster.

The ultimate death toll from the tsunami, though never actually confirmed, was around nineteen thousand. Most of the drowning victims were never recovered, claimed by the sea for all eternity.

The loss of infrastructure amounted to trillions of dollars, and all national resources were directed to the cleanup and reconstruction effort. When the waters finally receded, very few countries initially came forward to offer any form of assistance. As the true scope of the tragedy unfolded, however, countries such as England, Germany, Canada, and Japan were among the first of many to respond. An outpouring of aid from China also came in the form of materials, funds, and workers.

As events unfolded in the aftermath of the La Palma incident, it became clear that the United States acted prudently and within reason in their attempt to avert the disaster. The
Hazleton
and her crew were instrumental in providing relief in the form of food, water, and medicine to the stricken people of the island of La Palma.

As promised by Yagato Osama, a trail of incriminating evidence linked Robert Pencor to the dastardly act of terrorism. His lifelong obsession with fame finally became a reality. Robert Pencor's name would be vilified forever as the mastermind of the East Coast Tsunami, and the one responsible for the death of thousands.

The Yakuza connection in the matter never came to fruition. The powerful organization quickly and expediently destroyed all evidence and eradicated all persons linked to the project. Rumors and conspiracy theorists had a field day on the internet and in publications with their conjecture, but the organization managed to slip beneath the radar. Their
terrible Scalar weapons were hidden away for another time and another place.

The artifacts recovered by Eli Turner, and, ultimately saved by Maria Santiago during her escape from the catastrophe on La Palma, caused a worldwide fervor. The cup and thorn brush were placed on display at the San Fernando University Museum on Tenerife by Carlos Santiago after rigorous examination and carbon dating by experts in the field of archeology and anthropology. The rolled copper scroll, attributed to be the actual writings of Jesus, was sent to Switzerland for the careful process of unrolling.