Section 27

The TV faces rambled on and on. The only topic of substance: Bellatrix’ progress. NOAA was 90% confident Cape Lookout was ground zero.

He checked the betting odds just for the hell of it. People would bet on the apocalypse. In fact, they were.

“Vegas line has us dead at 3:1. Atlantic City gives 4:1. Dana, if you want to place a bet, you can use the house card up to $20,000.00.” Phil laughed. “I’m not old enough to use my insider information.”

“Cool. Where’s the card?”

Polly handed it over. “Anyone else? Use your own laptops so they can’t trace it to Swenson House.” She warned. “At least, not so quickly.”

He fished out three more cards. “Use these. One for the software business, one fun money, and one more for the house.” He thought for a second. “Dana, you and Rachael, bet 20 large at two different casinos in Atlantic City. Amy and Lanie, go 25 in Las Vegas. We might break even on the lingerie bills. Not that that wasn’t a fine investment.”

“$220,000.00 will buy a lot of panties! Don’t just stand there. Get busy. We have casinos to fleece.” April hollered.

“Better move fast while the broken connection is fresh in the bookies’ minds.” Sherry advised. “This is the funnest hurricane ever!”

“Y’all give me your folk’s email addresses. I’ll bulk mail everyone and let him or her know we’re doing OK. Some may be worried.” Traci offered, “No reason to test the cell towers if they’re still up. Let the regular people use the bandwidth.”

“Try this, ‘Having a good time in Beaufort. Hope it’s still there. Local entertainment not at all like the brochure. Everyone’s fine. See you soonest.’” Nancy said, “Hey, we can make a fortune replacing all the obsolete postcards! We’ll be rich, I tell you. Rich.”

Phil called Chancellor Schwartzwelder to check the reception. He knew she would still be at the University no matter how late. Charlotte might rule the school with a velvet covered iron fist, but he had seen the woman inside who considered the students her personal charges. She would be available until the fate of the four faculty members and nineteen students was known.

“Good evening, Madam Chancellor. We’re having an interesting spring break. How are things in Scarboro?” He deadpanned.

Her shout would crack marble. “It’s Phil Swenson on the phone. They’re all OK.” He heard the cheers. “You kids scared the devil out us when the connection got broken. What happened?”

“The power really did fail, but we have a huge generator. Honestly, a quick shutdown saved the equipment. Then again, Nancy Fanning and Joanne O’Brien are good Drama majors. They are also our Sound Chicks. A total blackout in the middle of a sentence had a certain appeal. Nancy loves her some cliffhangers.” He laughed openly, “Besides, the network control room pissed them off something fierce.”

“Whatever. Twenty thousand people can breath now.”

“Twenty Thousand? I repeat, how are things in Scarboro? I’m putting you on speaker phone.”

“When Amy called, the public access channel sounded good. Once it went big time national, we emailed the student body and opened the football stadium to the University and the public. That was Coach Parson’s idea. ‘Gravity’s Master’ played on the Jumbotron to a packed house. Loud doesn’t come close to describing the sound.”

“Jeez. This is not what we planned or expected. What started as a little concert for the evacuation shelters, snowballed into a global telethon with live appearances, bona fide superstars, testimonials and who knows what else.” Phil sighed. “I have to tell you, a lot of those tunes we never played before. Those girls were making it up as we went along.”

“I don’t think the grandstands could take it if you rehearsed and did it ‘better’. The noise, clapping, stomping and dancing would tear the place down. Your regular tunes were over the top good.” She hesitated briefly. “But that number you did with your sisters and the gospel backup frigging nailed it solid. It was beautiful. Not a dry eye in the house. It was dead silent until you did the last number. The whole audience stood and swayed, some singing and some just listening.”

“Did the Drs. Chamberlain enjoy it? I know he loves classic rock.” He asked. “And the other faculty?”

“Jim and Buffy started dancing in the aisle with ABBA and never stopped.” She laughed. “They danced to AC/DC! Dr. Marcinowski was out-of-her-mind proud halfway through “Bolero’ and on her knees catatonic by the end.”

Marcie handed him a note.

“I have to go. Marcie says the wind is holding at 145 mph and communication is getting weird. Please let everyone know we’re all right. See you next week.”

“It’s just starting to rain here now. Bobby Ortega and Fred Serabian set up the theater at the Drama Department to accommodate Art and Drama students watching the telethon. That’s where I’m going with Axel, Xaviera and Rolf, Buffy and Jim, Sheila, Amanda, Diane, Marian, Janice and Beth.”

“I think we’ll stick around here for a while. Someone will call you when it’s over. Give our regards to everyone.”

“Like you have another place to go! You all take care of yourselves.” Charlotte cut his connection in order to head for the Drama building and return her attention to the storm coverage. She did not intend to leave before the storm had passed the Outer Banks.

Marcie updated the storm progress. “The eye is about 50 miles south southwest of Lookout Light on a predicted track which will carry it directly over the barrier islands all the way up to Cape Hatteras and then back out to sea. At 20 mph, the eye will be over us around 7:00 AM. Eye wall wind speed is steady at 145.”

“How wide is the eye?” Sherry wondered.

“Right now, 15 miles. We’ll have less than an hour of relative calm before the wind returns from the west this time.” Marcie cautioned. “We’ll be in the highest part of the water dome in the center of the hurricane. It’s going to be weird outside.”

“At least the surge that far east won’t make the mainland flooding too much worse, like a category 4 ain’t bad enough.” Willy figured, “How many cubits are we above sea level?”

“Enough to stay dry. Once Bellatrix passes, we’ll have our island back. Everyone else has to deal with the rain runoff and the river flooding. More people are lost to the high water inland than the actual storm.” Phil’s voice had a note of sadness. “I hope they are smarter than usual.”

“I wouldn’t bet the farm.” Melody said. “Do you think we can go out onto the porch when we’re in the eye?”

“If we stay on the porch and get inside before the wind starts up again, sure. Zero to 140 in a minute or two is the issue. Bad things happen to little people real quick.” He laughed. “You will be in Kansas faster than Dorothy left.”

The family spent the next few hours keeping up with the news and making bad jokes, enjoying a friendly camaraderie. Some, including Phil, tried to catch a catnap with varying degrees of success. An hour of sleep was better than none after the long day behind them. Adrenaline can only carry a person so far.

Howling winds, pounding rain and several gallons of coffee had the whole group up and mostly alert after sunrise when the eye began to pass over the island. The extreme violence passed and a sort of eerie quiet settled over the house as everyone ventured out onto the back porch. The roiling cloud wall was visible as the inside of a terrible cylinder, spinning across the seascape. The blue sky above emphasized the deceptive serenity inside the eye. Halftime at Armageddon.

The damage was immediately apparent. Trees were down; sand covered seaweed draped the railings and tower. The water came to within a few dozen yards of the pilings.

“This probably means we’ll be replacing the beach shelter.” May said softly, “I guess we’re lucky wreckage didn’t slam into the house.”

“The shelling is going to be awesome later, but we will be busy clearing the debris.” April answered. “I hope the detritus doesn’t include the dock and the ‘Devil’s Darling’. Bro, do you think the anchor held?”

“It’s designed to dig deeper if it drags much, so I feel pretty good about it now. But the story might change when the wind reverses in a few minutes. We’ll just have to wait and see.” He glanced to the south. “We need to get indoors. The wall is close to the end of the island. Sandblasted flesh is not a popular fashion statement this year.”

The wind picked up as they closed and secured the doors.

Dana and Rachael accessed the web through the satellite uplink to check the odds makers’ lines. Dana giggled. “They locked all bets in at 6:1, Vegas and Atlantic City, when the eye passed our location. Based on that, we’re either dead or dying. I hate when that happens.”

“So, 90 grand at 6:1, gives us a $450.000.00 profit. Not too shabby. What will the taxes be?” Rachael wondered.

“That’s why I have sharks for accountants. We ought to clear a quarter million, maybe more.” Phil also laughed. “When the storm passes, the sound chicks should reconnect with their new friends at CBS and break the news of our miraculous survival. The word will spread quickly and after the announcement, the four players can tell the casinos to credit the cards used to place the wagers.”

“The odds are a reflection of the betting trends, right? How many people bet against us?” Melody was laughing now. “There had to be millions for the odds to change so much. The bookies never lose when they make the rules, but there are going to be a lot of people pretending to be happy we’re alive.”

“I did text Cal and Valerie to place bets. He put in $15,000 for his daughter and who knows how much for his family. We just paid Little Beverly’s college tuition.” SuLing admitted. “It didn’t skew the odds at all.”

“She is smart enough to get a full scholarship on her brains alone.” Bonnie grinned. “The $75,000 will wind up being a nice nest egg for her future.”

The second half of the storm siege consisted of more catnaps, improvised breakfast and calls to close friends and associates with strong admonitions to keep it secret for a few more hours. They didn’t want to spoil Joanne and Nancy’s fun.

They did have fun at first. They reactivated the broadcast link to the network, which connected them to ‘Hurricane Bellatrix Weather Central’ rather than the telethon control center. Same number, same personnel, smarmy guy still in charge. They blew by him quickly.

The news people interrupted their doom and gloom litany to announce breathlessly the survival of the kids presumed lost to Bellatrix’ fury. The Sound Chicks went live, talking to the on-air personalities about the excitement and dangers of being in the center of the hurricane. They were speaking to Larissa Lang.

“The viewers have seen nothing but devastation since the sun rose this morning. House after house is in ruins. Roads are cut. Communities isolated. How did you kids do so well when so much was destroyed?” The incredulous bleached blonde continued her monologue. “Everyone the news crews in the air see is in a bad situation, victims stranded, wet or worse.”

“Planning is a good thing. Not building castles in the sand is not just a parable. It’s the law. Mother Nature is not the forgiving sort when you ignore her advice. The Swensons’ house is very sturdy and is well above the water. It is also not on the beach. We were stocked with food and other necessities in advance. It’s not surprising to us that we are still here. What is surprising is that people are in trouble and alone.” Nancy was showing some anger. “How are the emergency services handling this mess? The whole country knows where they are. Where is FEMA?”

“FEMA is swamped which is understandable. They are getting the authorizations to move in relief supplies and personnel now.” The anchorwoman answered. “The local authorities are responding already, but they are undermanned.”

Phil reached for the microphone. “Phil Swenson here. Pardon the interruption, but did you just say that a slow response from the Federal Emergency, I repeat, Emergency Management Agency was understandable? That relief supplies were not in place even after a week’s warning from NOAA? Isn’t emergency relief their reason for being? They need authorization to do their only job? Why haven’t you called this the steaming pile of political crap it is?”

The anchor started to sputter an answer. Phil cut her off. He was channeling his Mom and Dad at this point, mostly his Mom.

“This is what you need to do. You will call Blake Overman at the Carteret County Sheriff’s Office and offer the services of your helicopters. You will call Archie Taverner at the Harbor Patrol and report the locations of those people you described as being in dire need.”

“We can’t do that.” She argued.

“Yes you can and you will, Ms Lang. You executives are not stupid. This will be approved. Maybe it’s time the broadcasters really earned their public service chops by actually performing a public service. Go to the Beaufort Ships’ Chandler and load your news copters with bottled water. Find some fast food outlets and buy a few hundred burgers and take food to those stranded people.” Phil was getting pissed. “You TV people are willing to exploit other’s misery from the safety of the studio. You have staff on site and no excuses. How about you prove you’re human beings and not just a bunch of ratings whores selling commercial time between shots of suffering families?”

“That is harsh, Mr. Swenson. We do what we’re allowed to do.”

“Isn’t that the problem? We do what we’re allowed, not what we can.” He said firmly. “I’m calling you and the networks out. You have the resources to make a difference. Use them. Act like Americans.”

Ms Lang listened to her earpiece. “The news division president agrees completely. Our people are in touch with the Sheriff and Harbor Patrol. McDonald’s, Wendy’s, Burger King and Hardee’s are calling in locations where the grills are hot.” Her eyes got very big. “Every phone line at every affiliate across the country is buzzing. People are demanding action. The boss has designated this newscast as the official information clearinghouse. His words, ‘You have the staff, you are onsite with the resources, communications are in place. Make us proud.’ I have to let you go, Captain Swenson and not Mr. Swenson, or so I’ve been told. There is a Maggie Neal asking how much weight our birds can safely carry.”

“Welcome to the real world, Coordinator Lang. If you need more help, do not hesitate to call. We have friends in useful places.” Phil said sincerely. “No one can do everything, but if everyone does what they can, everything gets done. Thank you for doing what you can. That’s all anyone can ask.”

“Thank you. But Gil Scott-Heron may be wrong this once. Today the revolution will be televised.”

Phil cut the connection to take a call from his Mom. She was crazy happy. “Phil, you just made your momma proud. Never pull the punches when you’re right. Your Dad was as mad as I’ve ever seen him. He is on the phone to the White House. The President is embarrassed because of Abrams. You do not want the most powerful man in the free world embarrassed because of you. Donald and Adam are screaming at Secretary Abrams, Libby has SecNav and Max is gnawing on the Defense Department. Expect the Marines and a hospital ship or two to get involved. After what we just did for the country, I can’t believe DHS isn’t on top of this crap. If Abrams is not moving in the next two hours, you will be putting several new pages in the ‘Scorched Earth’ file.”