Apocalypse Drift (20 page)

Wyatt watched his neighbors
drift into the pool area, his mind reminiscing about years past when he commonly called such meetings in times of crisis. At those gatherings, his credentials had been tied to his role as the leader of a business. Now, he had no authority or responsibility to anyone other than his family. The thought helped him relax.
I’m just one of many here
, he thought.
I’m not in charge, and I don’t want to be
.

Still, deep inside, there was an
urge to assert control. Obscured by layers of perceived failure, the compulsion to organize, lead, and resolve wanted to speak and be heard. That voice was weak, muffled by memories of fiasco and disappointment. The impulse was easily beaten down.

It didn’t take a lot of effort for Wyatt to justify his back-of-the-bus
thinking.
This is different than when I ran the show. There’s no money on the line, no deadline to talk about, and no deliverables to list. I don’t owe these people anything. This isn’t a business meeting - it’s a social gathering. 

David eased close to Wyatt. “Dad, I think everyone is
here. I’m the one who invited them all, should I get it started?”

Wyatt scanned the small clusters of people assembled around the pool deck. He was a little surprised at the number of folks he didn’t know. He’d seen most of the faces
here or there, but was a little taken aback at how few of his neighbors he’d actually held a conversation with. He nodded at David, “Sure, why not?”

David cleared his throat and spoke loudly, “Hey, everyone! Thanks for coming. I would like to
suggest each boat have a representative take a turn speaking what’s on their mind. We can go by pier number, largest to smallest.”

Wyatt couldn’t suppress a smile. David’s
diplomacy, the suggestion of starting with the people who owned the smaller boats first, demonstrated remarkable grace. Everyone at the marina knew the smaller your pier number, the larger your boat. His son had just sidestepped any chance those with means could attempt to flaunt their status, while at the same time making sure everyone’s voice was heard. Wyatt read the body language of the group as being frightened, concerned at best. Any hint of “My boat’s bigger, you should listen to me,” would be rejected today.

Evidently, his son’s
suggestion was well received as heads nodded all around the pool. An older gentleman strolled to the center of the crowd as people began setting up lounge chairs in a broad semi-circle. After everyone was settled, a tentative voice spoke, “My name is Dale, and I’m on pier 14 aboard
Her Diamond
. I don’t know about everyone else, but I can’t get in touch with my family, and I’m worried sick about them.” As Dale looked around, several people showed their agreement, and a few smiled. The speaker acknowledged the encouragement as a sign for him to continue. The old fellow’s confidence grew as he continued. “I came down to wash the boat, and now I guess I’m stuck here. I tried to leave, but the police forced me to come back. I’ve got a little food aboard, but my water tank is about empty. I should have filled it up before the water stopped yesterday, but I didn’t. I think fresh water might be a priority for everyone.”

Wyatt hadn’t thought about that. While Boxer had a water maker, smaller boats were only equipped with storage tanks. Water might be a problem for many of the residents.

Time seemed to fly as everyone took a turn speaking. Wyatt listened keenly, taking notes about everyone’s issues and ideas. Always the manager, his mind was occupied by an attempt to solve the problems being voiced by his fellow boaters. Waiting for the next person to stand and speak, Wyatt suddenly realized everyone was looking at him. It was his turn.

Wyatt moved to the center of the group, introducing himself, his family, and his
boat. After a short pause, he lifted the legal pad containing his scribbles and quickly examined the summary. “I’ve been noting everyone’s concerns and needs. While there is nothing I can offer to help in regards to communicating with family or loved ones, I do have a few ideas about some of the more basic needs. None of us know how long this situation is going to last, so if I may suggest a few things, it might make these uncertain times easier for all involved.”

He paused, gauging everyone’s reaction. Heads were moving north and south, many of the listeners smiling. He continued, “Clearly, fresh water is a
concern. As I see it, we have three sources; rainwater, the pool, and some of the larger boats here in the marina have water makers aboard. I suggest we organize some sort of water distribution until the city water is restored.”

Wyatt looked up from his
paper, noting the mostly positive reaction to his proposal. He smiled sheepishly and then continued. “We have a decent supply of fuel at our disposal. Most of these boats are full of either gas or diesel, and there’s the marina’s fuel pier to consider as well. I don’t know how recently the marina’s tanks were topped off, but there are probably thousands and thousands of gallons available.”

He hesitated for a
bit before continuing, as his next suggestion was more than a little radical. Taking a deep breath, he decided to throw it out there. “Everyone knows the marina office has a spare set of keys for all of the boats.” He chuckled, “Any of us who has ever driven down here and forgotten our keys has probably utilized those spares.” Several people nodded in agreement, remembering a similar experience. “While I don’t count myself as a burglar, if the situation doesn’t improve soon, I don’t think anyone will have us arrested if we break into the office and borrow some of those keys. Most of these unoccupied vessels have food aboard, and we could even utilize the water makers on some of the bigger vessels as well.”

Again, the consensus was agreement. It
was suggested by one gentleman that the refrigerators and freezers on some of the locked boats may already have drained the batteries, and precious food might be going to waste even now.

The
meeting carried on for another hour. It was getting dark when they finally finished, having determined that a committee would meet first thing in the morning and organize a salvage effort for the food and other critical supplies residing in the unoccupied boats. The foragers would leave notes for the owners letting them know what had happened and who to contact regarding reimbursement.

As
the attendees drifted back to their respective piers, Morgan approached Wyatt and gave him a hug. “You did great, honey. I think everyone feels a little better now. I know I do.”

David joined them, echoing his mother’s sentiments. He’d volunteered to be a scavenger, and Sage had surprised her parents by raising her hand to
join the water committee. The family sauntered back to Boxer with higher spirits and a somewhat positive sentiment about the future.

The next day, the citizens of Southland Marina, or “
Marinaville” as someone had nicknamed the community, worked together in an effort to make everyone more comfortable. Wyatt and Morgan were pleased to see their children play an active role, contributing their share of the workload.

It became painfully obvious that keeping all of the boats supplied wasn’t going to be easy. The vessels without water makers were going to require the most labor. Since boats are similar to automobiles in that they require a good scrubbing now and then, buckets are a common commodity at any marina. 

After a few dozen buckets had been collected, helpers organized to transport the buckets of water from one boat to another along the piers. Everyone started calling them the bucket brigade, and in the hot Texas sun, it was exhausting work.

David and another young man broke into the marina
office, trying to inflict as little damage as possible. They wrote a note explaining the cause and retrieved two large sheets of plywood containing hundreds of hooks labeled with slip numbers and, of course, dangling keys.

It was Morgan who suggested the formation of the
Marinaville City Water Department. A large 80-foot sailing vessel with a high capacity water maker was tied up at the base of pier one. That single boat could generate over 100 gallons of fresh water per day – enough to fill the tanks on several smaller boats. While Morgan’s idea resulted in a significant shortcut for the water carriers, the bucket brigade still didn’t want for physical exercise. Wyatt smiled when the jokes started circulating, most pertaining to how much money they were all going to make with the introduction of this fabulous new weight loss program.

Three of the smaller vessels didn’t have generators. Their cabins were powered
solely by battery banks, normally recharged via shore power. At first, this had been a serious problem. Wyatt, inspired by Morgan’s water company idea, suggested one of the vessels with a generator be moved to a nearby slip, allowing the neighbor to recharge its batteries. The Marinaville Mobile Power Company was born and could currently boast a 100% customer service satisfaction record.

Another task deemed necessary was the monitoring of various radios. A
team was organized to take turns, each member assigned a certain day to listen in on both the marine frequencies and normal AM and FM.

It was the
second morning without electricity that Mr. Pierce came hustling down pier two, frantically waving a piece of paper. He excitedly reported that the Emergency Broadcasting Network was now working, and there was news.

Wyatt, busy cleaning a small
batch of perch caught that morning, wiped his hands clean and headed for Boxer’s bridge. He dialed in the AM station prescribed by Mr. Pierce and began listening.

Your
attention, please. Your attention, please. This is Major Robert Danforth of the 112th Transportation Regiment, Federalized Texas National Guard. I have an IMPORTANT announcement. To all civilians of Houston, Texas…the United States Army, by order of the President of the United States, has established Martial law for the City of Houston. In addition, all city and state agencies have been federalized. All employees of the city of Houston or the state of Texas should report to the Federal Building at 1200 South Main Street as soon as possible. Bring identification with you. Only individuals with appropriate credentials are allowed to travel to the Federal Building.

All
other civilians within the Interstate 610 loop are ordered to remain in their homes until contacted by local authorities. For the safety of all citizens, A CURFEW of 1800 to 0600 will be strictly enforced, and violators will be shot on sight.

All civilians residing outside of the 610
loop are hereby ordered to report, as soon as possible, to checkpoints established at every major intersection of the 610 loop and interstates 45, 59, 10, 288 and 290. Additional checkpoints are being established at all major surface roads, as well.

You are required to
bring identification and will be assigned temporary housing and duties. The United States Army will provide basic shelter, security, food, water, and medical care.

Family units may be temporarily separated in order to provide shelter.

No weapons of any kind are permitted inside of the 610 loop.

Personal property is subject to confiscation.

Able-bodied adults, between the ages of 16 and 65, will be expected to perform assigned tasks and labor.

These orders are issued by General T. Wilson Adams, Major General, United States Army.

End of message.

This message will repeat in 30 minutes.
 

The message repeated all day, and Mr. Pierce traveled
from boat to boat, ensuring everyone heard it. By late in the afternoon, an impromptu town hall meeting was taking place behind Boxer with practically the entire population of Marinaville present.

Wyatt was shocked at the variety of reactions. More than a few of the boaters were ready to pack up and do as the army ordered. Others seemed determined to use any excuse as
justification for why they shouldn’t follow the instructions. “We don’t live in Houston, and the message was specifically directed to the ‘citizens of Houston,’” they argued. The debate raged for over an hour.

An older gentleman remarked that the whole thing sounded like being told to report to a labor camp. He compared it to
WWII and the orders given to the citizens of Japanese descent living in the US. Others backed his observation, passionately making the point that they would prefer to stay at the marina and be free.