“Yes, I also put all water taps on a trickle. If our pipes freeze we’re really in trouble. The temperature inside the building is 48 degrees and dropping steadily.”
“Grab a couple of aides and go room to room to ask the visitors to gather in the reception area. I want to shoot straight with these people. This isn’t just a customer service issue—it will soon be a fucking matter of life and death.”
Carol Johnston and her assistants rounded up all 25 of the visitors and asked them to report to the front reception hall. Janet Munson stood before the group.
“I’ve gotten to know many of you over the past few months, and I think you know me as a straight shooter. We have a problem, all of us. My job as the head of this place is to take care of your loved ones, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. But I can’t minimize the trouble we’re in. We’re out of communication and out of power. As you all know if you read our newsletter a couple of months ago, the board decided to invest a hell of a lot of money on a state of the art emergency generator, even though we already had a pretty good one. Well, the damn thing’s down along with everything else. As a lot of you know I once commanded a tank battalion in Iraq when I was in the Army. In a matter of minutes, I could round up a few dozen tanks and charge out to kick some jihadi ass. But now, for one of the few times in my life, I feel like I’ve run out of options. I like to think that I can handle anything, but I’ve never anticipated a freezing blizzard in July. The guy on the radio pointed out the obvious. Our infrastructure isn’t designed for this shit, pardon my language.”
“Janet,” a man named Kirk Burton said, “I think I speak for everybody here, that we appreciate the problem we’re all in. I couldn’t have dreamed of a better place for my mom to be cared for than this well-run home. Don’t blame yourself for the craziest weather any of us has ever seen. I have a Humvee which is great in bad weather. I’m going to venture out and see if I can contact your electricians. I know where their shop is located.”
“Thanks, Kirk. It’s what I expect of a good guy like you. But the people on the radio are screaming for their listeners to stay off the roads unless it’s an emergency.”
“There are about 140 patients here, Janet, and soon it will be freezing. I think that constitutes an emergency. After I visit the electricians’ shop I’ll go to the police station and alert them.”
“I have a couple of two-way radios in my car, Kirk,” another visitor said. “At least you’ll be able to contact us.”
Kirk Burton slowly maneuvered his Humvee down the snow-covered streets, occasionally blinded by the swirling blizzard. As he drove over a short bridge that traversed a creek, his vehicle suddenly swerved from a sudden blast of wind. Under the snow was a layer of black ice. His Humvee slammed into a wooden rail, cracking it in half, and then plunged into the 10-foot-deep creek. Burton’s frozen body was discovered two weeks later.
Chapter 16
Saturday, July 15 – Before the Cold Wave
On Saturday, July 15, the Great Lakes cruise ship Victory 1 cast off its lines from its berth in Chicago. The itinerary would take the ship through all five of the Great Lakes and would tie up in Toronto 10 days later. Bill and Melissa Thompson of Philadelphia were celebrating their 35th wedding anniversary. Their daughter, Ellen Bellamy, gave them the cruise as an anniversary present. The ship was scheduled to leave on July 23, but a scheduling mistake changed its sailing time to July 15, which was just fine with the Thompsons. The idea of cruising on the Great Lakes seemed like a great way to escape the record heat wave. It was 95 degrees in Chicago on the day they sailed.
Victory 1 was a paddle-wheel cruise ship, but, like most modern paddle wheelers, its main propulsion came from standard underwater propellers, with minimal power from the paddle wheel. The paddle provided a great atmospheric effect, sort of like cruising in the old days. The ship was small compared to many cruise ships afloat, with a crew of 84 and 202 staterooms. Its modest size enabled it to easily navigate canals, locks, tranquil bays, and hidden ports where larger ships dare not go.
As they walked along the promenade deck after lunch, Bill looked at his watch.
“Hey, it’s almost time for The Ellen Bellamy Show.”
“The show doesn’t air on weekends, remember?”
“Oh, right. Let’s go inside anyway. It’s hotter than hell on deck even with the breeze off the lake.”
Like his daughter, Bill was an architect, although he didn’t win the kinds of awards like Ellen did. Melissa was a dermatologist. Their main hobby was following the illustrious career of their famous daughter. They loved Ellen and the feeling was mutual.
At 9:15 a.m. on Sunday morning, July 16, they had just finished breakfast and were sipping coffee. The ship steamed north on Lake Michigan, headed for the Straits of Mackinac and then on to Lake Huron. They were about 40 miles from the Straits of Mackinac, cruising at a pleasant 15 knots. It was still hot as hell.
“Let’s take a walk around deck,” Bill said. “If we don’t exercise we’ll both gain 20 pounds with all the food they shove at you.”
They had just rounded the deck near the bow and stopped to enjoy the breeze.
“Holy shit, what’s that?” Bill yelled.
“God almighty, it’s cold,” Melissa said. “This is impossible. A minute ago we were sweating.”
“Well, it feels like the impossible just happened. Let’s get inside.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Mike Pettibone speaking. Those of us on the ship’s bridge are just as stumped as you are. I suggest looking at the reports coming in on the TV.”
The Thompsons went to their stateroom and channel-surfed from one news show to another. The Sunday morning talk shows were put on hold to enable reporters to try to explain the amazing change in the weather.
What had been a smooth cruise a few minutes before, started to become rocky. The captain slowed the ship to 10 knots to accommodate the growing mountains of waves. It began to snow, and the wind howled at 50 mph.
“What the hell is that?” yelled Doug Stewart, the first officer. “It feels like we just dropped an anchor.”
The wind and rising seas splashed water on the paddle wheel, which soon became encased in ice, freezing it in place. Instead of assisting in propulsion, the wheel acted like a giant anchor, slowing the ship to a nauseating 5 knots, nauseating because the waves hammered the ship from all sides. At 22,000 square miles Lake Michigan is a large body of water. It is known to get rough at times, but neither the captain nor the first officer had ever seen such oceanlike waves that battered the ship.
The captain ordered all passengers to get inside, not that anybody needed his advice. The freezing wind and pounding waves spoke for themselves. The air temperature was 20 degrees Fahrenheit, with a wind chill well below zero.
A few of the passengers packed sweaters, but most only brought summer clothes. The ship was equipped with a heating system, but the large number of broken windows kept the temperature down. A few of the crew busied themselves boarding up the windows that had blown out.
Because the captain was having a difficult time steering the ship, the result was sickening and constant rolls. Smashing glassware and toppling pots and pans made the scene even more chaotic. Walking across a room was an athletic endeavor.
“Captain, there’s a problem with the main engine. I don’t know if it’s the high seas or the sudden drop in temperature, but the engine isn’t giving us the power we need for steerage. I hate to say this, but we’re a cork in the middle of a stormy lake.”