Read Online Under a Tell-Tale Sky: Disruption - Book 1 by R.E. McDermott - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: R.E. McDermott
Tags: Chaos, apocalypse, post apocalyptic, Dystopian, teotwawki, shtf, EMP, solar storm, the end of the world as we know it, solar flare, solar, grid, grid-down, shit hits the fan, coronal mass ejection, power failure
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from the first bridge.”
“With this moon, anyone looking can see us, and I don’t want to take a chance the noise will get them looking,” Levi said.
Anthony bobbed his head and lowered the trolling motor.
They moved more slowly on the electric trolling motor, but still at a respectable clip with the current behind them. Soon they glided silently under the first bridge and a few minutes later saw the old battleship USS North Carolina on their right in her permanent berth. On the east bank, scattered fires burned in the distance in Wilmington proper, and much closer, Levi detected movement in the upscale shopping district lining the river’s edge.
Well, so much for everyone sleeping. Evidently looters didn’t keep regular hours. Ahead of him at the trolling motor controls, Anthony cast nervous glances to his left—he’d seen the movement too. Levi looked astern. They moved silently at three or four knots, leaving a wake visible in the moonlight, pointing at them like a telltale arrow. He glanced at the eastern shore again and then ahead to the Cape Fear Memorial Bridge towering above the river’s surface. Downstream of the bridge, the restaurants and trendy businesses of the Wilmington riverfront gave way to industrial areas, and Eagle Island on the west bank held nothing but a dredge spoils area where the US Army Corp of Engineers dumped years’ worth of muck dredged from the river bottom. If they could make it past Memorial Bridge unseen, they’d have smooth sailing to the Pecos Trader .
It seemed to take forever to reach the bridge. Just as they started under the span, a large heavy object fell from the sky, striking the water with a tremendous splash, narrowly missing the boat and soaking both men.
“What the hell—” Anthony gasped as he flinched away from the impact by reflex, inadvertently pulling the trolling motor tiller hard over and radically altering the boat’s course—a chance event that saved them. The boat exited the shadow of the bridge several feet off her original course, and the assailant waiting on the downstream side was unable to adjust in time. The heavy steel pipe he released speared the water just aft of the boat, soaking Levi a second time as he cranked the outboard.
“Pull up the trolling motor, Anthony,” Levi yelled. “They know we’re here.”
Above him he heard shouted curses and loud arguing as the assailants blamed each other for the failed attack. The little outboard coughed to life, and Levi ran it up to full speed, such as it was, and immediately started zigzagging downstream as he heard semiautomatic gunfire above and behind him. Fortunately, their attackers’ marksmanship was no more accurate than their makeshift bombardment, and the thunderous assault resulted in multiple splashes around them, but none seemed to hit the boat. It was over in seconds, and Levi swallowed his heart.
“You … you okay, Anthony?” he called when they were out of range.
“I might have to clean out my pants, but other than that, yeah, I’m okay,” the older man replied. “You?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. I just … damn!”
“You hit?” Anthony called, concern in his voice.
“Not me. But there’s water in the boat. They hit us somewhere.”
“What are we going to do?” Anthony asked.
“Haul ass and pray. We’re only a couple of miles from the ship. You take the flashlight and see if you can find the leak and plug it with something. If we start taking on water too badly, I’ll run the boat to the bank and we’ll continue on foot if we have to.”
“This is a fine how do you do,” Anthony said. “If the boat sinks, how the hell are we going to get home?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Levi said.
“Huh,” Anthony muttered. “If you don’t mind, I’d just as soon steer clear of bridges from now on.”
M/V Pecos Trader
Buckeye Marine Terminal
Wilmington, North Carolina
Day 7, 3:05 a.m.
“There it is,” the sailor said,
“With this moon, anyone looking can see us, and I don’t want to take a chance the noise will get them looking,” Levi said.
Anthony bobbed his head and lowered the trolling motor.
They moved more slowly on the electric trolling motor, but still at a respectable clip with the current behind them. Soon they glided silently under the first bridge and a few minutes later saw the old battleship USS North Carolina on their right in her permanent berth. On the east bank, scattered fires burned in the distance in Wilmington proper, and much closer, Levi detected movement in the upscale shopping district lining the river’s edge.
Well, so much for everyone sleeping. Evidently looters didn’t keep regular hours. Ahead of him at the trolling motor controls, Anthony cast nervous glances to his left—he’d seen the movement too. Levi looked astern. They moved silently at three or four knots, leaving a wake visible in the moonlight, pointing at them like a telltale arrow. He glanced at the eastern shore again and then ahead to the Cape Fear Memorial Bridge towering above the river’s surface. Downstream of the bridge, the restaurants and trendy businesses of the Wilmington riverfront gave way to industrial areas, and Eagle Island on the west bank held nothing but a dredge spoils area where the US Army Corp of Engineers dumped years’ worth of muck dredged from the river bottom. If they could make it past Memorial Bridge unseen, they’d have smooth sailing to the Pecos Trader .
It seemed to take forever to reach the bridge. Just as they started under the span, a large heavy object fell from the sky, striking the water with a tremendous splash, narrowly missing the boat and soaking both men.
“What the hell—” Anthony gasped as he flinched away from the impact by reflex, inadvertently pulling the trolling motor tiller hard over and radically altering the boat’s course—a chance event that saved them. The boat exited the shadow of the bridge several feet off her original course, and the assailant waiting on the downstream side was unable to adjust in time. The heavy steel pipe he released speared the water just aft of the boat, soaking Levi a second time as he cranked the outboard.
“Pull up the trolling motor, Anthony,” Levi yelled. “They know we’re here.”
Above him he heard shouted curses and loud arguing as the assailants blamed each other for the failed attack. The little outboard coughed to life, and Levi ran it up to full speed, such as it was, and immediately started zigzagging downstream as he heard semiautomatic gunfire above and behind him. Fortunately, their attackers’ marksmanship was no more accurate than their makeshift bombardment, and the thunderous assault resulted in multiple splashes around them, but none seemed to hit the boat. It was over in seconds, and Levi swallowed his heart.
“You … you okay, Anthony?” he called when they were out of range.
“I might have to clean out my pants, but other than that, yeah, I’m okay,” the older man replied. “You?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. I just … damn!”
“You hit?” Anthony called, concern in his voice.
“Not me. But there’s water in the boat. They hit us somewhere.”
“What are we going to do?” Anthony asked.
“Haul ass and pray. We’re only a couple of miles from the ship. You take the flashlight and see if you can find the leak and plug it with something. If we start taking on water too badly, I’ll run the boat to the bank and we’ll continue on foot if we have to.”
“This is a fine how do you do,” Anthony said. “If the boat sinks, how the hell are we going to get home?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Levi said.
“Huh,” Anthony muttered. “If you don’t mind, I’d just as soon steer clear of bridges from now on.”
M/V Pecos Trader
Buckeye Marine Terminal
Wilmington, North Carolina
Day 7, 3:05 a.m.
“There it is,” the sailor said,
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