‘Great. I’ll call you back. Ciao.’
While he waited Nick gathered some clothes, packing as much as he could into two suitcases. He rifled through his boating books, selecting his favourites, which ended in a pile on the coffee table, far too large and heavy to pack into suitcases. He placed some back on the bookcase, changed his mind and put them back on the coffee table. He repeated this exercise several times until he threw one across the room, then stomped to the kitchen leaving it where it lay. He opened his pantry and stared at the food the housekeeper had brought in. He knew the army would evacuate him, but didn’t know how much he could carry.
Barry called back to say he had organised the meeting in an hour. Nick changed into his official Platypus uniform: a T-shirt with a Platypus embroidered on the left breast, and eyed his lived-in shorts but thought better of it, instead donned his moleskin trousers and headed for the Yacht Club.
The marina stretched the whole length of this section of the Broad-water for about two to three kilometres, taking in the old tourist resorts of Versace, Mariner’s Cove and the Mirage Resort hotel complex, right on up to the Sea-world theme park. Sea-world was the original and one of the few theme parks to survive, as it catered for the marine life which was still a drawcard, although it had been scaled down in size. The five-star Mirage Hotel that was rebuilt in 2018 was a sad shell of it’s former glory, reduced to offering cheap accommodation to families, desperately competing with Sea-world Nara Resort further along the isthmus.
On the ocean side of the dyke, four fishing trawlers lay at anchor, fighting the ocean waves that threatened to hurl them against the dyke, waiting for their intrepid owners to take them out to do their job. Nick spotted various super-yachts dotting the coastline, their days of ferrying their owners and guests from their homes to the ocean environment had been reduced to zero, now they had no access to the Broad-water.
Arriving at the yacht club Nick found the place bustling with yachties, professional fishermen and skippers, their faces wearing grimaces and frowns. With their businesses crumbling around them, the members looked upon their club as a last refuge, and would do anything to preserve it. Like most club houses, now the lucrative gaming profits had been commandeered by the government to pay for the dykes, most were bravely trying to maintain some remnants of their past glory.
Nick waited for the Commodore in the lounge on the second floor of the yacht club, he watched a whirling speedboat spinning circles in the Broad-water, towing a man dangling from a para-sail above the white water spurting from it’s wake. It was a colourful scene, a bright red, blue and yellow parachute dipping and soaring above the froth and bubble of the white bullet-shaped speedboat’s wash.
A distinguished elderly gentleman wearing a navy-blue blazer approached offering his hand. ‘You’re a welcome site Nick. Thanks for coming so soon.’
Men and women, some clad in rough Navilon suits, many of retirement age, gathered around them. The questions flew, one talking above the other until Nick thought his head would burst. He waved his hands in a downward motion to silence the babble.
‘I can’t tell you how to save your boats. I can only tell you what to expect. It’ll be rough. I’m like all of you here, I love my boat, but I don’t know if she’s going to make it through.’ He looked out to the marina and lowered his voice. ‘The boats here will be crushed by the tsunami.’
Expletives between shouted questions filled the air. One chap beside Nick spoke up above the babble. ‘My boat’s a forty-eight footer, will she be able to ride it out?’
Nick hesitated. ‘I… er, no.’ Nick replied. ‘I suggest that those of you who have boats you can tow, to get them up to the City Marina and take them ashore. However, I don’t know where you’re going to take them. The army won’t let you to take them into the mountains.’
Nicked looked around at the worried faces. ‘Those of you who have your yachts anchored out there in the ocean, may have a chance of saving them if you take them out past the edge of the continental shelf, but you could be risking your lives. It will be extremely dangerous.’
The forty-eight footer man stared open-mouthed at Nick. ‘How much warning will we get?’ he managed to croak.
‘We’ll get a warning immediately the epicentres are recorded. It depends where those epicentres are located, and what the readings are on the Richter scale are, before we know how long they’ll take to reach our shores. Normally tsunami travel at speeds between eight hundred to a thousand kilometres per hour, but this one will be bigger than any we’ve ever seen, so it’s be impossible to predict it’s speed, it’ll be fast.’
‘You’re not much bloody help,’ another man shouted.
Nick spread his hands and shook his head. ‘I’m sorry I can’t be more specific. The room erupted with raised voices again as Nick walked away with the Commodore. ‘Sorry I stirred up that mess Barry, but I had to be truthful.’
‘She’s right mate! They’ll understand once the shock wears off.’
‘What about you? Where’s your boat?’
‘It’s time my old classic went to her grave. I’m not going to risk my life, it’ll be tough enough on shore, we’re moving up to the hills tomorrow.’
Although he didn’t know when the quakes would start, Nick’s bones told him it was closer than anyone realised.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Tuesday, June 6
A loud crash rang out from the kitchen just as Bill mumbled to let in the daylight. ‘Curtains.’ He said, and his hand flew to his eyes as bright sunshine flooded the room, pricking his inflamed eye balls and exacerbated his hangover. The bedside clock showed eleven-thirty.Holy shit, he thought,Brian will have my balls!
He jumped out of bed, quickly showered and donned his grey body-suit. ‘Bloody things.’ He muttered, gazing in the mirror examining his reflection. He patted his swollen abdomen. ‘Doesn’t give a bloke a chance to hide the old gut.’ He sighed and picked up his knee-length jacket. ‘At least this helps,’ he said, tossing it over his shoulder.
He found Veronica busy in the kitchen, making salad. As usual she was immaculately dressed in an apricot body suit with a knee-length, sheer chiffon overblouse, and with her long blonde hair swept up into a classic French roll, she looked like she had just come from the beauty parlour. His mouth dropped. ‘Why the hell didn’t you wake me?’ he snarled taking some milk from the refrigerator.
‘It’s not my job to be your baby-sitter.’ She snapped. ‘After last night I wasn’t game. I’m not in the mood for one of your tirades. I’ve got a blinding headache.’
‘My tirades! Look who’s talking. You’re always pissed off about something.’
She slammed the knife on the table. ‘Because you’re the one that’s always pissing me off. I’m sick of seeing you drunk.’
Bill’s face turned red. ‘I’m sick of you running around with you’re so-called friends. If you’re not with them, you’re at that bloody church.’
‘At least I have friends. Your friends are users, if they’re not using you, you’re using them.’
Veronica burst into tears, which was the only way she knew how to stop the continual arguments. Bill usually stomped off leaving her to her misery, but this time he stunned her by grabbing her into his arms.’
‘I’m sorry Vee,’ Bill muttered, calling her by the pet name he hadn’t used in years. ‘I know this is scaring you.’
Veronica pulled away from him and her eyes wandered over his face. ‘Brian called while you were asleep. Karen wants us to move up there. I think we should.’
Bill pushed Veronica away. ‘I’m not moving out of here.’ He waved his arms around. ‘I’ve worked all my bloody life to get this, I can’t just walk away! The Pheonix was built to stand up to the worst cyclones. Shit, we’ve even been through some. That’s it you hear! Don’t mention it again.’