The Pulse: A Novel of Surviving the Collapse of the Grid (18 page)

Read The Pulse: A Novel of Surviving the Collapse of the Grid Online

Authors: Scott B. Williams

BOOK: The Pulse: A Novel of Surviving the Collapse of the Grid
9.93Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
That speed increased just as Scully had said it would after ten a.m., when the trade winds freshened to the steady force five that Larry had said could be counted on in these latitudes at this time of year from late morning until well after dark. By now they had rounded the northeast corner of the island and were running before the wind to the west, staying well north of the coastline. Artie was alarmed to hear disconcerting creaks and groans from the mast foot and the connection points of the beams and the hulls as the rig was stressed and the boat surged forward, doubling her cruising speed to more than 12 knots.
“No problem, Doc! Dis boat she happy to get de wind, and not’ing gonna break in dese conditions. She can take a blow lot stronger widout to worry.”
“I just wondered if maybe we should reduce sail a bit, that’s all.”
“You want to go to Bobbylon or sit out on de watah an’ watch de fish? Not to worry ’bout de sail. She runnin’ off de wind, an’ de seas dem not too big. If de Copt’n be on deck right now he put up de spinnaker too!”
“He always was a daredevil. Yeah, I want to get there as fast as possible, but let’s not break something trying.”
“Everyt’ing on dis boat built strong, mon. I an’ I see to dat myself. You brotha, he pick a good design to build, an’ she goin’ take us to New Orlean an’ den anywhere we want to go. Not to worry ’bout de boat no more, Doc. Jus’ enjoy de sailin’ and de freedom to ride de wind across de sea.”
Artie did feel the sense of freedom that held so much attraction for Larry and Scully, but more importantly, at the speed they were now making, he felt a sense of
progress
. That progress was easily measured without the need to take bearings, by simply watching as the city of San Juan and the rest of the rugged north coast of Puerto Rico slipped past them to the south over the course of the day as the wind bore them west. By late afternoon, the entire island was astern, and well before sunset it had dropped below the horizon in their wake. For the first time since he’d arrived in St. Thomas with Larry, Artie was once again at sea beyond the sight of land. Full darkness fell and the visible horizon closed in to the limits of what could be discerned by starlight. No lights from anything man-made could be seen, though that didn’t mean there were no other vessels sailing in the vicinity. Though they had Larry’s backup LED navigation lights to use if necessary, Scully said it would be best to save the batteries and instead keep a sharp watch, on rotating shifts. With any ship or other vessel they might encounter likely to be unlit as well, sounds would be as important as visual cues to alert them to dangers close enough to worry about.
Larry remained in his bunk through that entire first day and night, in a lot of pain but still wanting regular progress updates whenever Artie or Scully went below to check on him or get something out of the galley. During Scully’s watch, from eight p.m. to midnight, Artie changed the bandage on Larry’s forearm and sat with him, discussing routes and options for the trip.
“We still have no way of knowing how bad it is up there, or even knowing for sure if the grid is down on the mainland. If it is, we don’t know how much else may have changed. I’m worried about even being able to enter U.S. waters.”
“I thought it wouldn’t be an issue since we’re sailing directly from U.S. territorial waters in Puerto Rico to the mainland. As long as we don’t clear in to the Bahamas or anywhere else, we shouldn’t have a problem, right?”
“In normal times, no, but how will they know where we’re coming in from? If there are Navy ships patrolling or blockading the coastlines, they may have orders to intercept any vessel sailing in from international waters.”
“But why would they do that? If this surge or pulse or whatever it was came from the sun, they couldn’t blame some other country for an EMP attack, like Pete was speculating about.”
“No, but you know it’s still going to be an urgent matter of national security up there. You’ve been living there since 9-11; I haven’t. You know how things got right after that, and then again after every minor incident. I know this is going to cause all kinds of security issues, but I have no idea how this may or may not have affected the military’s capabilities. I know that in normal times, it had gotten to where nothing could get in from the islands undetected, even from way back in the ’80s when Reagan cracked down on the cocaine and grass smugglers running goods over from Bimini.”
“But so much of their surveillance relies on high-tech electronics. I don’t see how they can seal off the coast like they did after 9-11. And even if they do, we’re both American citizens. They would have to let us in, wouldn’t they?”
“One would think so, but Scully doesn’t have a U.S. passport. He’s from Jamaica, but now his official citizenship is in Grenada. That could be a problem, but as you can see, we need him more than ever now. I’m gonna be pretty useless for a while with this bum arm.”
“All I know is that
I’m getting in
, one way or the other. I’m going to find Casey in New Orleans and get her out of there, but I don’t know what we can do after that.”
“I don’t know either, Doc. I’m just glad we’ve got the boat. I think we ought to sail somewhere pretty remote and lay low for a while after we leave there. Anywhere near New Orleans is not gonna be the place to be, Florida either, or just about anywhere in the Gulf, except maybe a few stretches of the Mexican coast on the north side of the Yucatán. Wherever we go, it needs to be some place with good, protected anchorage for the boat, a fresh water supply, and good fishing and foraging. I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna have to be self-sufficient for a while. I just can’t even contemplate what a mess it’s going to be up there in the bigger cities if this goes on for a few months.”
“But don’t you think everyone is going to have the same idea about getting out of the cities? It looks like there would be a mass exodus from just about all of them. I mean, everybody knows that food comes from the country, even city people. Won’t they head out any way they can and try to get to farms hoping to find something to eat? I guess that’s what I would do, if I were in that situation with no other choice.”
“Nah, some will, but you gotta remember, most people are conditioned to expect a government handout when some disaster strikes, like a hurricane, for instance. I think most of them will hang around hoping help is on the way until they finally realize it ain’t coming. Besides, from what I’ve seen my last few times in the States, most people these days aren’t in shape to walk out of their neighborhoods, much less far enough to get to the rural areas. And even though some could do something like that, far fewer have access to good, seaworthy boats that could reach the kinds of places I’ve got in mind. No, Doc, we don’t have to worry about that. As long as some other freak of nature doesn’t come along and shut down the wind, the world is our oyster here aboard the
Casey Nicole.
”
“I just hope we get there before Casey decides to leave,” Artie said, suddenly worried about this new possibility. “If she were to evacuate or something before we get there, I don’t know how I would ever find her.”
“We’re
gonna
find her, Doc. Just try not to worry too much about all the what-ifs. Just help Scully sail this boat and when we get there we’ll figure it out one step at a time.”
SIX
 
CASEY GLANCED OVER her shoulder one last time at the terrible place on the Interstate where a dead man was sprawled face down on the concrete slab. She shuddered to see that at least a dozen of the big black vultures they had disturbed in their passing had returned to swarm over the body, while more circled downward, gliding in for the feast in lazy, spiraling loops. Casey looked ahead with apprehension for signs of more winged scavengers, as Grant had said it was inevitable that they would pass more dead bodies, but, at least for now, she didn’t see any.
By the time they reached the exit to Causeway Boulevard, where they would get off the expressway to turn north, the mid-afternoon sun was baking the hot concrete beneath their tires. New Orleans’s heat and humidity, even in March, could sap the strength of the fittest athlete. Sweat dripped on her handlebars as she rode, and her quadriceps burned from spinning the cranks. Jessica was struggling even more than she was, while Grant made it look effortless.
“I don’t think I can go much farther without resting,” she said, as they coasted down the ramp at their exit.
“It’s only a little over two miles from here to the start of the Causeway Bridge,” Grant said. “If you can just try to push on that far, we’ll stop there and take a real break before we start the crossing. We need to eat something to keep our energy up, but I’ll feel a lot better if we don’t stop until we’re on the bridge.”
Causeway Boulevard, like every other road they had seen in the city, was packed with stalled cars and trucks, but in the short ride north to the start of the bridge, they had to move out of the way several times to make room for the occasional running vehicle as well. Most of these were pickup trucks, station wagons, or sedans twenty years old or more. Without exception, all were bound north, out of the city, most jam-packed with families and as many of their belongings as they could pile in the back or lash onto the roof. All of them faced a 24-mile-long obstacle course of more stalled vehicles blocking the bridge, but Grant said that by now people had probably pushed enough cars to one side or the other to open a route. Most of those few lucky enough to be riding in motor vehicles were focused on the obstructions ahead of them and hardly gave Casey, Grant, and Jessica a second glance. While a lone traveler without much stuff might have had some chance of hitching a ride, no one was going to stop for three people loaded down with gear. There were other bicyclists riding out of the city too, as well as a few people walking with large backpacks or duffel bags slung over their shoulders. The refugees moving north that first day were the vanguard of what would surely become an exodus from the city when more of the population of the greater New Orleans area figured out that help was not coming. Grant said it would probably be several days before many people accepted that reality and decided that their survival was up to them, and even those who realized the truth would likely hesitate due to indecision until it was too late.
“I’ve never seen anything like this in my life,” Jessica said, “except in a movie or something. This is just unreal.”
“It’s sort of like a hurricane evacuation, but without the traffic jams. You should have seen what it was like here just before Katrina hit. Every road north was backed up bumper-to-bumper for a hundred miles. It was that way all the way across Louisiana to Mississippi and Alabama. But the big difference was that the cars were running. Everyone who had access to a vehicle and any common sense at all got out and got out early.”
“But they also had someplace to go, right?” Casey asked. “I mean, all they had to do was drive far enough inland from the Gulf to get out of the danger zone. Where will all these people who are leaving go if the power is out everywhere? I don’t imagine most of them have a cabin like yours to go to.”
“No, but a lot of them may have relatives or friends nearby. Maybe they think everything will be normal somewhere else within reach, or at least they can hope. But they’re making the right choice to get out of New Orleans while they can.”
“Don’t you think there will be someone willing to help all these people, like there are when hurricanes hit?” Jessica asked. “Surely there will be some somewhere.”
“It’s possible, but we just don’t know the scale of this. If it’s as bad as the worst-case scenario, I just can’t imagine how anyone could do much, no matter how much they may want to. I think you’ll see small groups of neighbors joining together to help each other, especially in the smaller towns and rural areas to the north of the city. But I don’t see how they can do much to help a bunch of outsiders flooding in with nothing to eat. I’m just glad we have what we need with us and a place to go so we don’t have to depend on anyone’s generosity, because it will probably be in short supply.”
At the edge of Lake Pontchartrain, the broad northbound and southbound lanes of the boulevard disappeared and the roadway transitioned into two separate, parallel bridges, with two lanes going north and two going south. Low concrete retaining walls bordered the edges of the lanes on either side, allowing a good view of the water from the height of a bicycle seat. The three of them pedaled onto the bridge, leaving land behind for an open horizon of empty water for as far ahead as they could see. Driving across the Causeway was about as close as a person could get to being out at sea without a boat, and Casey had found it interesting the few times she’d crossed it, especially in the middle sections of the span where no land other than the bridge itself could be seen in any direction. She had never dreamed of riding across such a bridge on a bicycle, and knowing how long it seemed to take in a car, she felt a good deal of apprehension about pedaling such a distance.
Grant said he thought it was okay to stop once they’d ridden about half a mile onto the bridge. He was visibly more at ease now that they had this small bit of isolation between themselves and the streets of the city. Casey and Jessica followed his lead and leaned their bikes against the rail. They all drank from their water bottles and sat in the shade of an abandoned delivery van to get some relief from the hot concrete. The three shared peanut butter and crackers, some dried fruit and almonds; Casey and Grant ate some of the beef jerky Grant had bought at the store. Grant said they would have a hot meal later that night when he felt they had gone far enough to camp safely. High-energy snacks would get them through the miles until they could rest.

Other books

Linda Needham by My Wicked Earl
Inception by Ashley Suzanne
EMBELLISHED TO DEATH by Christina Freeburn
Filthy Rich-Part 2 by Kendall Banks
Pursuit of Justice by DiAnn Mills
The Lace Reader by Brunonia Barry
Wait for Dusk by Jocelynn Drake