Under a Tell-Tale Sky: Disruption - Book 1 (11 page)

Luke’s attempt to communicate his displeasure via a hard look was somewhat defeated by his inability to suppress a grin.

An hour and a half later, they were hovering over the Port of Miami on Dodge Island, gazing down at almost empty docks and little movement except aboard a large white cruise ship at one of the cruise terminals. Rorke directed the pilot to land, and the chopper flared over an empty parking lot and settled to the pavement. They were scrambling out before the blades stopped turning, moving behind Rorke and Velasquez toward the cruise terminal.

They passed empty shuttle buses in front of the terminal and found the terminal itself practically deserted except for a scattering of people in FEMA T-shirts and a few terminal personnel pressed into service to tie up the ship and deploy the gangway. Luke wondered where they got the power to deploy the gangway, then heard the muted throb of a generator somewhere in the near distance. He almost bumped into Rorke’s back as his new boss stopped and watched one of the FEMA people hasten toward them.

“So what’s the story?” Rorke asked. “Any change?”

The man shook his head. “Not really. The captain and crew are cooperating. I mean, the captain’s pissed we’re basically confiscating his ship, but he agreed to sign the charter on behalf of his company after I assured him we wouldn’t kick the crew off if they don’t cause trouble. The problem is the passengers. It was a seniors’ cruise with several veterans’ groups, mainly from the Korean and Vietnam wars, and a scattering of World War Two vets. Hell, a couple of the old farts look like they might have survived the Civil War.” He paused. “Anyway, they were in St. Thomas when the blackouts hit, and I guess things got nasty there in a hurry. A shore excursion was surrounded by a mob and they were all robbed at gunpoint and verbally and physically abused. Several of the old guys who attempted to defend the group were beaten for their efforts before local police intervened and got the group back to the ship. They’ve heard a lot of conflicting reports since and they’re confused and scared and not inclined to believe anything I tell them.”

He shook his head. “The captain managed to convince them to leave their luggage outside their staterooms this morning, and the crew went around and gave them all baggage claim checks, but that’s where things bogged down. I guess a lot of them figured out no matter how anxious they are to get home, conditions on the ship might be a lot better than they are anywhere else. They’ll be a pretty tough sell, I’m afraid.”

Rorke nodded. “Understood. Is there any place where Ms. Velasquez here can address all the passengers in person?”

“Not in person, at least where everyone can see her directly,” the man said, “but I had the captain ask all passengers to gather on the embarkation deck for an update on the situation ashore. That area runs most of the length of the ship, and there are large flat-screen TV monitors every few feet. Ms. Velasquez can address everyone from the ship’s communications center. If she gets them moving, we’ll funnel them right down the gangway and across the terminal to the buses.”

Rorke nodded again and turned to Luke. “I’ll accompany Ms. Velasquez to the comm center. You take the rest of the men aboard and space them out along the embarkation deck to keep things moving after they start. Spread six of them out evenly along the deck, but pick three men to stay with you near the gangway. That’s the potential bottleneck, so keep it moving. Do NOT let things back up there, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Luke said, and Rorke turned and started toward the ship.

Once aboard, Rorke and Velasquez disappeared into the crowd and Luke picked six of Rorke’s men to spread out along the deck, retaining both of his own men and a private named Grogan to stay with him near the gangway. When he was satisfied everyone was in position, he surveyed the crowd. As the FEMA man indicated, they were seniors, and while most seemed reasonably fit, there were many canes and walkers, and not a few wheelchairs, as well as scattered passengers with oxygen tubes clipped in their noses. The mood was tense and subdued. Suddenly the undercurrent of hushed conversation stopped as the TV monitors all sprang to life with the identical images of a handsome blond man of late middle age whose shirt displayed the four-stripe shoulder boards of a captain.

“Good day, ladies and gentlemen. As I’m sure you know by now”—he showed perfect white teeth in a smile—”I am Captain Larson. I apologize for what I know has been a frustrating lack of information, but in truth we have had very little information to share. I know you all have questions regarding the situation ashore. So, I’m very pleased we now have on board representatives of the US Federal Emergency Management Agency, or FEMA, who can address your various concerns.”

The captain stepped to one side, and Maria Velasquez took his place, somehow managing to look professional while favoring her viewing audience with a radiant smile. From the murmurs rippling through the assembled passengers, it was obvious to Luke many recognized Velasquez and were informing their less-enlightened shipmates of her identity.

“Hi, folks, I’m Maria Velasquez, and some of you might recognize me from my work on both local and national news teams. However, today I’m here on behalf of FEMA. As I’m sure you’ve figured out by now, most of the media infrastructure was badly damaged by the recent disaster, so when FEMA reached out to media professionals and offered us a way to serve our viewers, or perhaps I should say former viewers, most of us gladly accepted the opportunity to do our part.

“First, the situation. Eight days ago a massive solar storm released a series of what are called ‘coronal mass ejections’ at earth. Without going into too much technical mumbo jumbo, the bottom line is there were blackouts, not just across the US and Canada, but the world. Obviously, there has been chaos and confusion, but the good news is, here in the US anyway, the authorities have control of the situation. Food and water is going out to folks who need it, even as we speak, so don’t worry about your loved ones.”

Washington looked over at Luke, who merely returned his puzzled look and shrugged his shoulders.

“But the bad news,” Velasquez continued, “is the power is still out. However, all of the utilities are working on the problem, with the full assistance of the federal government, and they are confident they can restore the power within the week in some places, but perhaps two to three weeks in most.” There were groans from the audience and evidently the comm center was close enough for Velasquez to hear them, because she responded with a sympathetic smile and allowed the groaning to dissipate on its own.

“Now,” she said, “as far as your situations go, it’s another big mixture of the good news/bad news thing, I’m afraid. The bad news is air travel is disrupted, and gasoline and fuel of all kinds are currently in really short supply—again both things the federal government is working on correcting—but that doesn’t help you folks much in the near term. The good news is we’re working on charter flights to get you where you need to go, but the bad news is it’s going to take a few days. More good news is you’ll get to extend your vacation a few days at government expense because we’re going to put you all up in some of Miami’s great hotels. The bad news is they’re not so awesome these days, because most are operating with limited power on backup generators.”

There was grumbling from the crowd now, but a few chuckles as well, as the information gave the listeners a greater sense of understanding, and Velasquez’s earnest but somewhat light-hearted delivery seemed to make the situation more tolerable. Though Luke doubted the veracity of some of her claims, he figured they were at least partial truths, and having the crowd disembark voluntarily was a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

“More good news,” Velasquez said, continuing her monologue, “is all of your food and drink will be taken care of, but the bad news, I’m afraid, is it will be in the form of FEMA emergency provisions. However, even that’s good news in a way, as the many veterans among you will be able to satisfy what I’m sure is your curiosity as to whether the new meals ready-to-eat, or MREs, are superior to the old rations you may remember from your own gallant service.” She paused for effect. “The bad news is current soldiers refer to the MREs as ‘meals, rarely edible.’“

The laughter was spontaneous and widespread this time, mixed with good-natured groans, and Luke had to admit Velasquez was a pro when it came to winning over a crowd. The tension in the crowd was significantly lower than when they’d arrived. Velasquez waited for the laughter to subside, and continued.

“So here’s the deal, folks. We have buses standing by outside to transport you to your hotels. You don’t have to worry about your baggage, as the crew will collect it and we will transport it to your hotel. We have crew members standing by to assist those of you who require assistance in disembarking—”

“Why can’t we just stay here until the flights are ready? The chow’s a hell of a lot better and we got power,” yelled a voice from the crowd. There was another voice of agreement followed almost immediately by a chorus of noisy agreement, drowning out Velasquez’s words as she continued to speak on the screens. She continued to speak for a while and then stopped and looked a bit confused, as if she’d heard the noise but not the specific question. She then looked off camera and it was obvious she was listening to someone; then she turned back to the camera and made calming gestures. Eventually, the crowd noise subsided.

“I understand some of you have asked why you can’t just stay aboard,” she said. “That’s a reasonable question and I apologize for not addressing it first. The fact is, the captain informs me there is less than a day’s food left on board, so we are reduced to emergency rations regardless of where you are quartered. As far as staying here, the ship is also almost out of fuel, and it will be a long time before any more is available. With no power, the ship will be even less pleasant than the hotels ashore, so it’s better to leave now while we have resources in place to accommodate the transfer.” She paused. “And I have to stress here, folks, there are a lot of people needing help, not only people on other cruise ships like this one, but other people in the community at large. We are here now and ready to help you, but if you turn down our offer, you will be completely on your own as far as getting back to your homes.”

Luke doubted the last assertion. The government wasn’t ‘chartering’ a ship to leave it sitting at a dock empty and without fuel. However, he couldn’t help feeling relieved as he saw heads nod here and there in the crowd, his disgust at the blatant manipulation mitigated by the rising hope he wouldn’t have to participate in a forcible eviction of a crowd of senior citizens. Velasquez gave her announcement a moment to sink in and then continued.

“Now as I was saying, we have crew members standing by to assist those of you who need help disembarking. Unfortunately we only have the single gangway in use, so we ask crewmen assisting wheelchair-bound passengers to stay to the right during disembarkation to allow walking passengers to pass to your left. Thank you for your cooperation, ladies and gentlemen, and I wish you all a safe journey to your homes.”

Velasquez’s face blanked from all the screens and Luke saw ship’s officers around the embarkation deck begin to dispatch Filipino crewmen into the crowd to assist wheelchair-bound passengers. Like magic, other crewmen arrived with folding wheelchairs, encouraging passengers with walkers or canes to accept a wheelchair ride to the buses. A few seemed resistant, but in the end all accepted the assistance.

Somewhat unsure of his role, Luke positioned himself on one side of the gangway entrance with Long and nodded for Washington and Grogan to take the other side as the crowd converged on the gangway entrance. It wasn’t a line exactly, but it was orderly, as people at the front of the pack politely waited their turn to move onto the gangway, generally making way for the wheelchairs pushed by the Filipino seamen to move on the gangway and start down in a slower moving line, hugging the right rail as faster walking passengers filled the left side of the gangway.

As the gangway filled, two wheelchairs moved on to the gangway side by side, obviously an elderly couple, with the woman clinging to her husband’s hand. When the seaman pushing the woman’s chair tried to move ahead to form a single line, his passenger grew visibly agitated and refused to release her husband’s hand. The Filipino seaman relented and it became obvious they intended to transit the gangway abreast.

“Shit!” muttered Grogan as he shouldered the little Filipino aside and shoved the woman’s chair forward, the unexpected move breaking her grip on her husband’s hand as Grogan pushed her chair to the right.

“Frank! Frank!” the old woman screamed, terror in her voice.

But Grogan hadn’t counted on the husband behind him, who grabbed the cane stowed upright between his knees and propelled it forward between Grogan’s legs, crooked end up, then jerked back savagely, hooking it into Grogan’s crotch, to stop him in mid-stride before the old man lost his grip on the cane.

“Jesus,” gasped Grogan as he released the wheelchair and stumbled to the rail. The cane clattered to the gangway at his feet. Grogan straightened and whirled, face red with rage and fist raised—to face Washington, who had swiftly inserted himself between Grogan and the old man.

All the while, the old woman’s piteous screams continued.

“Stand down, Grogan!” Luke shouted, then motioned the seaman pushing the old man’s chair forward so the couple could be reunited.

Grogan glared at Luke. “But he—”

“I said stand down and get off the gangway, now!” Luke said, and after a moment’s hesitation, Grogan complied and Luke stepped forward toward the reunited couple as Washington scooped the old man’s cane up off the gangway.

The woman was calmer now, though still agitated, and her husband was holding both her hands and speaking to her softly. “It’s fine, sweetheart. I’m right here and I’m not going anyplace. You’re safe now.”

“Is she all right, sir?” Luke asked.

The old man looked up, his eyes moist. “She gets … confused sometimes and doesn’t know where she is. When that happens I can’t be out of her sight without her getting upset. It was only happening once in a while, but all this stress made it worse.”