Offworld (15 page)

Already Mobile was beginning to flood.

They'd left the rain behind but not the waters, particularly near
rivers or marshes. The rising tide had come so far above the ground
that it was cresting the undercarriages of both vehicles. It seemed that
the farther inland they went, the higher it got. Making matters worse,
there were odd surges of water arriving every five to ten minutes,
and each one elevated the water level another inch or two.

As they neared the Mississippi state line, the vehicles had slowed
drastically just by virtue of the standing water, and though both
were four-wheel-drive rigs, they would only be able to stave off the
mounting water for so long before they lost traction completely.

"Talk to me, Beech," Chris called over the radio. He knew that
his brilliant friend would already be formulating a theory about this
strange weather. "Is this just the storm?"

But Owen's response was slow in coming. When he didn't say
anything, Chris repeated himself.

"Sorry, Commander," Owen replied. "I'm still collating data. Based
on what I'm seeing on my laptop ... It's really quite astonishing. I've
never heard of such a wide-scale systematic failure."

"Failure? Of what?" said Chris, reminding Owen that the rest of
them needed context.

"I believe we're looking at a cataclysmic collapse of the entire
dam and levee system along a major artery of the Mississippi River.
I know how that sounds, but I can see from the satellite that at least three major dams have breached, and that means several smaller
ones have likely been overrun as well. I think it must be building
as it goes, taking out more and more of them, one at a time. And
with each new dam or levee the water overcomes, its overall flow
gets stronger and stronger."

Chris took a moment to swallow this, glancing at Trisha, whose
startled expression mirrored his own.

"Does that mean what I think it does?" he asked.

"Well," Owen surmised, "we have to assume that the dams are
failing because of the lack of human presence to maintain and
upkeep their structural supports. Major dams leak small amounts
of water daily, and as such require constant maintenance. They're
more fragile than most people realize. I'm still searching the parts
of the Mississippi I can see behind the storm clouds, following its
paths and branches inland....

"But as the river continues to build, it's causing a domino effect,
with ever-greater spurts of water pouring into the Gulf region as more
of these dams and levees fail. That would explain why the water
is rising in sudden swells. But it looks like so far it's only affecting
this one major artery. Once we make it out of Mississippi and into
Louisiana, we should be relatively safe. I believe our best chance is
to hug the coastline and try to outrun the surge."

Chris looked at his first officer, seeking input. Everything had
changed in a matter of minutes, and her face showed it as much
as his probably did. He noticed that she was sitting up rigid in her
seat now, her eyes scanning the horizon, and one of her knees was
pumping up and down rapidly. The swift, loud back and forth of the
wiper blades had become a metronome, counting down the amount
of time they had left, until ...

"Why don't we make for higher ground instead, Beech?" asked
Trisha. "Shouldn't that be safer?"

"It probably would be, but there's no time," Owen answered.
"The water's rising too fast; most of the river basin is already flooded beyond traversability. Until the water subsides, delving farther inland
toward the mountains would be suicidal"

Chris saw an opportunity on the road ahead and made an instant
decision.

"We're getting off 1-10," he barked into his earpiece. "Let's go."

Chris made a sharp right at a cloverleaf exit and left the interstate
behind, speeding past stationary vehicles left and right at dangerous
speeds. The water was closing in on them and they had only one
chance to outrun it. Gunning the engine, he clipped the hack end
of a station wagon, sending it into a brief spin and forcing Terry to
go around, but there was no time to stop and inspect the SUV for
damage. He raced onward, onto Highway 90, which clipped much
deeper south toward the coastline, and would take them through
Pascagoula and hopefully buy them some time.

"Uh, Chris?" came Terry's voice in his ear.

"Yeah, Terry, go ahead," Trisha replied as Chris focused all his
attention on the breakneck pace he was keeping as he dodged
through the unmoving traffic. He was gripping the steering wheel
tight with both hands.

"This is probably a bad time to mention it," Terry said, "but our
batteries are low."

Trisha looked over at Chris sharply, and he stole a quick look
at the SUV's odometer, which was holographically projected onto
a lower corner of the windshield. The virtual needle indicated they
had roughly one quarter charge remaining of the vehicle's power
cells. Chris didn't return Trisha's gaze, but merely kept his eyes on
the road and his foot mashing down the pedal.

"Copy that, Terry," Trisha replied, watching Chris anxiously.

Chris had no words of reassurance to offer them. He knew only
one thing: they had to make it to the other side of the state before
the entire region was buried beneath these endless surges of water.
Neither vehicle had enough power to make it that far, and neither of them would be able to drive through the kind of strong flooding
Owen described.

He glanced in the back seat and saw Mae staring blankly at
the rain outside her window, unperturbed and unmoved. As if she
looked danger in the face every day and found it about as interesting
as watching linoleum peel.

Less than an hour later, Highway 90 had led both cars to dryer
ground, though they still raced along the shoreline as fast as they
dared, knowing that a wall of water was charging closer to the coast
with every passing second, threatening to cut off their passage.

They crossed the massive Highway 90 bridge and shot down
Beach Boulevard on the southern coastal edge of Biloxi. The beach
was only a few dozen yards to their left. They passed a hotel with an
enormous guitar out front. Not far out at sea they spotted a couple
of floating casino barges that were adrift. A third had run ashore
just past the big guitar.

Chris ignored most of this, his eyes searching the road ahead
for one thing and one thing only. Biloxi didn't seem to have power,
but that shouldn't matter. Vehicle charging stations didn't run
off of city grids. They had their own massive generators buried
underground.

And with the land here still more or less dry, this was probably
the one shot they would get at recharging the cars before the land
was drenched and flooded.

Salvation was spotted a little over half a mile ahead: a multi-stall
charging station covered with a green awning.

Chris grabbed the radio and shouted, "Get ready to stop!"

He screeched the tires of the SUV as he made a hard right into
the station and slammed on the brakes at the first charger clock he
saw. Terry made a jolting stop at the adjacent stall and everyone
piled out of both vehicles.

Chris had considered stopping on the highway and trading their
transportation for other abandoned cars, but there was no guarantee
any of those vehicles would have any charge left in their batteries
either. And they didn't have time to conduct a search.

"If anyone has to go to the bathroom," Trisha said loud enough
for everyone to hear, "this will be your last chance for a while. And
you better do it fast!"

Chris connected the generator plug to his car and then ran inside
the small convenience store and behind the counter, looking for the
manual release that would start the charger. He spotted it quickly
and pressed it down. Most modern charging stations could repower
a car's fuel cells in under five minutes.

He just hoped they had that long.

Back outside, he noticed Owen standing outside of the truck,
laptop perched on the rear truck bed door, pointing out something
on the screen to Trisha. Terry was standing beside the charging
pump by the front of truck.

Once again, a certain someone was missing.

"Where's Mae?!" he shouted.

Terry turned around. "Oh, man-she was right here!"

"Chris, we've got a matter of minutes .. " Owen shouted, not
looking up from his laptop.

"You two get back in the truck!" Chris barked, running out into
the street. Just across the road was a parking area for heachgoers,
and beyond that was the Gulf Coast. "Trish, get behind the wheel
and start her up!"

Chris looked to his right and saw the road continue on, the
usual empty cars stopped in the road or run off it. No sign of the
girl. He spun left and a few hundred feet away stood a stark white
lighthouse in the median of the road. It appeared to he some sort
of historical monument, and its plain white color contrasted sharply
against the ominous gray sky.

Silhouetted against the base, Mae strolled casually around the
near side of the lighthouse, gazing up at it in curiosity.

Hey." he shouted. "Get back in the car! We don't have time
for-"

He stopped when he realized that when she'd turned at the
sound of his voice, she wasn't looking at him, but past him. The
change was subtle, but he saw it. A hint of color drained from her
face, and her eyes widened.

Chris watched in stunned silence as, ever so slightly, Mae took
a few small steps backward, her eyes fixed on whatever she saw
over his shoulder.

Chris' breath caught in his chest as he turned, bracing
himself...

A mile or so in the distance, he could see trees and other foliage
shaking violently or falling altogether, and the ferocity was moving
in their direction like a ripple in a pond. A sound reached his ears, a
rushing sound of incredible magnitude. It reminded him of a childhood trip to Niagara Falls.

Terry disconnected his truck and was closing the battery cover
when Chris screamed at the top of his lungs, "Out of the cars!"

The tone of his voice was all they needed; the three of them
were at his side in seconds.

With Owen, Terry, and Trisha paralyzed as the mountain of water
rushed their way, Chris scanned the area, searching for something,
anything ... something high enough ...

"The lighthouse! Go!" he shouted.

In a heartbeat they'd crossed the parking lot, closing quickly on
the lighthouse and its cast-iron door. Chris paused a second to snatch
Mae by the arm and drag her along, and by the time he'd turned,
Trisha made it to the door.

Locked!

Down a street perpendicular to Highway 90 and past the far side
of the fuel station, the water rushed into view. It was the swell of a raging river flow that had absolutely nothing holding it back. It was
less than three hundred feet away from them and it was stampeding
toward the coastline.

"Get hack!" Terry shouted. He withdrew the same pistol he'd
aimed at Mae a few days before and fired a single shot at the lock on
the door. The iron door threw off sparks but the lock fell away.

"Inside!" Chris screamed, watching the raging water come closer
and closer.

Terry led the way, followed by Trisha and Owen. Chris all but
threw Mae through the door as the water surge was less than ten
feet away. He jumped through the porthole after her and pulled
the door shut behind him. It slammed up against the iron structure
with a terrible clang thanks to the rushing water, which immediately began spraying through the doorway's edges even after Chris
secured the door.

He heard Trisha shouting, "Faster!" and turned to see all four
of his companions running up the cramped spiral staircase that led
to the top. He finished securing the door but already the water was
calf high and rising and his clothes were soaked from the spray. The
only place to go was up and Chris climbed.

By the time he'd reached the top, the others were outside, standing on the tiny black balcony with a black railing that circled the top
of the tower like a dark ring around a pale finger.