Coastal Event Memories Read Online Free Page B
Author: A. G. Kimbrough
Tags: Science-Fiction, adventure, Literature & Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Dystopian
structure, sticking out of the water.
“I believe that’s the South Tower,” he said. “And over there, that must be the top stories of the B of A building. The sea level must have risen well over 300 feet.”
Everyone was out on deck, and the silence said it all.
Allison Jacobs asked, “Where did all the people go?”
No one had an answer that they were willing to voice.
We anchored the Goose for the night, and turned on all the lights. Even though we all looked until we were tired, we found no evidence of life.
The next morning, April Hall demanded that we sail up the Sacramento River to see if we could find her husband Eric. She had been through hell, not knowing, and no one argued with her.
The trip was slow, because of the amount of floating debris, and the fact that we had to navigate using the GPS, since the river was now part of a huge Inland Sea.
We reached what the GPS said was the Port of Sacramento by late morning of the next day. The city was mostly under water, except for some wrecked high rise buildings and houses on the foothills to the east. We followed the path of the American River, and passed over Folsom Dam. It was under over 150 feet of water according to the fathometer.
We anchored in shallow water near what the map called El Dorado Hills. Most of the homes appeared intact, except for blown out windows. Dad noticed smoke coming from a chimney on a home near the top of the hill. He tried calling out with loudspeaker, but got no response.
We turned all the lights on again that night, and waited. About two hours after sundown, Dad saw a couple of people sneaking down the hill with the night vision goggles. Doc turned on the spotlight on them, and they crouched down behind a wall.
Dad called out with the loudspeaker “We mean you no harm. Come back in the morning and we can talk.”
Doc then turned off the spotlight and all the external lights. Dad kept watch with the night vision goggles until the stranger left the area.
The next morning we unstrapped the inflatable and Dad ran it the 50 yards to the shore. I saw that he had a pistol under his shirt, and that both Doc and Mr. Jacobs had assault rifles out of sight on deck. The moms herded all us kids below decks. I fired up the TV camera on the main mast and we watched Dad’s progress.
Dad stayed in the open, and was soon joined by a man holding a long gun. They talked for a long time, and then shook hands. The man went behind a building and Dad returned to the boat.
He explained what he had learned. “Times are very bad around here. The flood, earthquake, and the storm killed anyone not on high ground and under cover. The survivors are desperate, hungry, and scared. Those that have provisions have to fight to keep them. There are roaming bands of thugs that take anything they want and kill anyone who objects. The man I spoke with, is Aaron Johnson, a CHP Sargent. He and his wife and two kids, live in the home where we saw the smoke. They have already had to fight off two different groups of thugs, and his wife was wounded in the last one. He asked if we would take his family to someplace that is safer. He has provisions and some weapons. It’s up to you Doc, but I vote we help them. He seems like a decent guy, and we may need another gun.”
Doc did not hesitate, “No question about it, we need them as much as they need us. I’ll get my medical bag.”
Dad pulled in the anchor and drove the Goose as close as possible to the shore. Dad and Doc, with assault rifles on their backs went ashore, and walked up the hill. Several minutes later, a pickup came down the hill. Doc helped a young woman and two kids into the boat. We helped them aboard, and April Hall took the boat back to the shore.
The pickup was full of provisions and survival equipment. It took three trips and all the remaining storage space to get it all on board.
A group of thugs on
“I believe that’s the South Tower,” he said. “And over there, that must be the top stories of the B of A building. The sea level must have risen well over 300 feet.”
Everyone was out on deck, and the silence said it all.
Allison Jacobs asked, “Where did all the people go?”
No one had an answer that they were willing to voice.
We anchored the Goose for the night, and turned on all the lights. Even though we all looked until we were tired, we found no evidence of life.
The next morning, April Hall demanded that we sail up the Sacramento River to see if we could find her husband Eric. She had been through hell, not knowing, and no one argued with her.
The trip was slow, because of the amount of floating debris, and the fact that we had to navigate using the GPS, since the river was now part of a huge Inland Sea.
We reached what the GPS said was the Port of Sacramento by late morning of the next day. The city was mostly under water, except for some wrecked high rise buildings and houses on the foothills to the east. We followed the path of the American River, and passed over Folsom Dam. It was under over 150 feet of water according to the fathometer.
We anchored in shallow water near what the map called El Dorado Hills. Most of the homes appeared intact, except for blown out windows. Dad noticed smoke coming from a chimney on a home near the top of the hill. He tried calling out with loudspeaker, but got no response.
We turned all the lights on again that night, and waited. About two hours after sundown, Dad saw a couple of people sneaking down the hill with the night vision goggles. Doc turned on the spotlight on them, and they crouched down behind a wall.
Dad called out with the loudspeaker “We mean you no harm. Come back in the morning and we can talk.”
Doc then turned off the spotlight and all the external lights. Dad kept watch with the night vision goggles until the stranger left the area.
The next morning we unstrapped the inflatable and Dad ran it the 50 yards to the shore. I saw that he had a pistol under his shirt, and that both Doc and Mr. Jacobs had assault rifles out of sight on deck. The moms herded all us kids below decks. I fired up the TV camera on the main mast and we watched Dad’s progress.
Dad stayed in the open, and was soon joined by a man holding a long gun. They talked for a long time, and then shook hands. The man went behind a building and Dad returned to the boat.
He explained what he had learned. “Times are very bad around here. The flood, earthquake, and the storm killed anyone not on high ground and under cover. The survivors are desperate, hungry, and scared. Those that have provisions have to fight to keep them. There are roaming bands of thugs that take anything they want and kill anyone who objects. The man I spoke with, is Aaron Johnson, a CHP Sargent. He and his wife and two kids, live in the home where we saw the smoke. They have already had to fight off two different groups of thugs, and his wife was wounded in the last one. He asked if we would take his family to someplace that is safer. He has provisions and some weapons. It’s up to you Doc, but I vote we help them. He seems like a decent guy, and we may need another gun.”
Doc did not hesitate, “No question about it, we need them as much as they need us. I’ll get my medical bag.”
Dad pulled in the anchor and drove the Goose as close as possible to the shore. Dad and Doc, with assault rifles on their backs went ashore, and walked up the hill. Several minutes later, a pickup came down the hill. Doc helped a young woman and two kids into the boat. We helped them aboard, and April Hall took the boat back to the shore.
The pickup was full of provisions and survival equipment. It took three trips and all the remaining storage space to get it all on board.
A group of thugs on
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