The Days After (Big River) Read online

  The Days After

  Big River

  J. Richardson

  COPYWRIGHT

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyright © 2013 by J. Richardson

  The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  The Annie Belle

  Chapter Two

  The Crew

  Chapter Three

  Rolling on the River

  Chapter Four

  Small Town to Big City

  Chapter Five

  Storm

  Chapter Six

  On The Wide Missouri

  Chapter Seven

  Away

  Chapter Eight

  No Safe Passage

  Chapter One

  The Annie Belle

  Muddy colored sheets of water spilled over, frothed into a creamy foam where the blades dipped into the churning current. The paddle wheel pushed the two-level boat along the big river. William Clay Allen, the owner and operator, guided the vessel with both hands on the polished wooden ship's wheel, he smoothly navigated the waterway that he was so familiar with. Clay did not wear the suit of a captain; he wore his denim jeans, a long sleeve navy blue T-shirt and canvas boat shoes. His dark blue cap snugged down on a head of thick black hair and was lettered Annie Belle, the cap shaded a face pleasantly weathered and tanned. Dark brown eyes hidden behind aviator style sunglasses, watched cautiously as the shoreline approached.

  Graceful blue letters repeated the name Annie Belle on the sides of the long boat that was freshly painted white. Below the name, New Orleans, La. This craft was not the huge commercial type that carried hundreds of visitors along the river for dining and touring, sometimes even over night excursions. This well-maintained riverboat never carried more than twenty five tourists, either on the three hour early trip that included a light brunch or the afternoon trip that offered sandwiches and snacks. A walkway and rails encircled the many windowed cabin area on the first deck. If you took the narrow stairs to the second level, you walked out onto a flat deck with a strong safety rail. The small wheel house, the control cabin, sat next to the stairway at the bow of the boat. A framework stretched from the boat's bridge to the aft and a heavy canvas top could be rolled out to cover it. Mounted at the opposite end of the deck was a viewing scope that allowed observation of activity on and around the river. A long row of wooden benches, facing back to back, with ornate wrought iron backs and legs were bolted down in the center of the deck. Freshly painted black, not very comfortable but they gave the passengers a place to sit and have a high perch view. The Annie Belle was not a fancy hulking cruise boat; it was Clay's livelihood, his life and also his home.

  For the last hour or so, as the morning tour came to an end and the boat glided back into the busier area along the river, Clay noticed something different. The day was bright and clear, the usual waterway traffic passed him by, yet something on the land...what was it? Very still, no motion of the heavy land traffic. In the lulls between the noise of barges and tugs and towering freighters, he heard occasional shouts and car horns that honked from the shore, but no movement other than hazy figures that scurried around. He reached down in the metal clad cabinet that stored walkie talkies and other small electronics, such as a battery operated radio. He spoke into the walkie talkie, “Louis, could you come up to the helm? Hey, bud, are you there...would you come forward please?”

  Another hand held radio sat in a metal box at the aft of the boat, Louis's voice crackled in reply, “Gotcha' boss. I'll be up shortly.”

  More and more folks stood upon the decks of the assorted boats that passed in both directions, they looked out with curiosity at the shore. Some vessels seemed to be stopped silent in the water. Clay maneuvered the paddle wheeler with skill, the long pier that allowed his passengers to disembark was about twenty minutes ahead.

  A short stocky man with cocoa colored skin, stepped into the small space that housed the ship's wheel and controls and Clay. He wore jeans, a T-shirt and dark blue cap just like his friend and boss. “What's up, you think? It looks like a power outage or something in the city. Weird thing though, I don't see any vehicles moving.”

  “Yeah-h,” said Clay. He took his sunglasses off and scanned the bright blue skies, “I don't see any storm clouds. It's clear as a bell today.” The sunglasses went back on, “Well, we'll be at the dock shortly. Go ahead and help Angeline get the passengers off.”

  “Okay, bet we find out what's happening when we get there, huh?” Louis smiled and moved towards the cabin area.

  Elizabeth Angeline Babin Cook stood behind the bar and wiped vigorously at the polished top. Her auburn hair piled up in a tousle of curls on her head, a circle of comb teeth secured the curls and made neat rows in her shiny tresses. Thick lashes covered her amber colored eyes as she looked down at the job she was intent on completing. Her slim figure looked pleasing in the same jeans as her boss and her co-worker and she wore the appropriate canvas boat shoes. No T-shirt however, a soft navy blue blouse tucked neatly in her jeans. Gold hoops dangled from her ears, a small cross on a chain at her neck, no wedding ring or any rings on her fingers and a Timex watch circled her wrist. Louis's wide hand slapped the bar and made her jump.

  “Angel, we're close to port. Let's round 'em up, girl.” Several of the morning tourists peered out the windows and a few sat at tables and munched on cookies from a round tray of assorted sweets. A small girl with hair the beautiful color of her mother's, popped up from a stool behind the bar. A tiny pair of glasses rested on her turned up nose, she removed them and laid them on top of the sketch pad. As usual the drawing that engrossed her filled the white page.

  “Louis!” she grabbed him around his knees.

  He lifted the petite beauty and gave her a hug, “Hey there, Allie girl. How's my baby today?”

  Louis sat her down and announced in a smooth voice with just a touch of a cajun accent, “Okay, folks, we'll soon be at the dock. Be sure to gather all of your belongings and prepare to disembark.”

  Angel looked down at her daughter, “Put all your supplies in your backpack, honey. Do you need to make one last restroom visit?” The little girl skipped towards the bathroom on the opposite side of the cabin, her loose bright printed top flounced around. She didn't like clothes that fit her body close; she tolerated jeans with an elastic waist and she liked the slip-on canvas shoes.

  A loud horn blared out as the Annie Belle slowly edged next to the long pier, murky water lapped against the heavy pilings. The wooden pier relayed the tourists all the way into their towering luxury hotel that had a view of the river from every room. As the passengers walked up the pier, they looked around curiously, noticed that something wasn't quite right, but moved up the long walkway towards the hotel. Louis and Angeline, now Clay stood and told them thanks for coming and have a nice day. It was just the normal thing, the routine. The people moved away from the ship, gazed around, baffled by the scene they witnessed.

  Angel, busy until they docked, stood by the rail and scanned the shore. Now she noticed the chaos. No cars moved around and clearly many had slammed into others, steam and smoke spiraled up in dozens of places and an actual fire or two blazed, unattended. People ran in all directions, shouts and a few panicky screams rose above the sea of dead autos. She heard no sirens, where was the fire department...the police? Allie dashed out and tugged at her hand. Her daughter was only five but very precocious, “What is it, Mommy? Is there a bad car wreck?”

  She pulled the little body up next to her. “Maybe,” she answered
with a doubtful voice. She looked at Louis and over to Clay, the question in her eyes, “My god, what....”

  Clay only hesitated for a moment, “Louis, I think we need to get back out into the bay, away from the shore.” He turned to move to the helm and Louis immediately spun to follow.

  Angel said, “Hey, wait, we need to get home. We need to get off...” her voice trailed away as she looked back at the mass confusion on the shore and wondered, how would she and Allie get home to their tiny apartment.

  Clay turned and said, “Angel, I don't think that would be a good idea right now. Let's get back out on the river and I'll get you closer to home, by the waterway.” He hurried on towards the helm and Louis went to untie the moorings.

  Angel stood in stunned silence until she felt the slight roll of the deck. She snapped to and led Allie into the cabin. What in the world could be happening? This was just crazy. She tried not to let her little girl see how frightened she was. Rather nonchalantly, Allie sat down on the carpeted floor, took off her backpack, pulled out her art pad and placed her glasses on her nose.

  Clay eased the long vessel away from the land. He felt not near as baffled as his pretty new bartender slash hostess about what might have happened. Not one hundred percent certain, but a firm idea that it was something widespread. Angeline had just come to work on the boat a couple of weeks earlier. It was early and the season would get busier. He and Louis simply couldn't do everything, especially the small hospitality and courtesy things that folks expected. She seemed to be smart and competent, not to mention nice to look at. He didn't mind sweet Allie being on board, at all. If her mother didn't have to pay child care, it made him feel less guilty about her mother's small paycheck,

  The boat slipped ever so slowly along, he noticed no break or change in the havoc on the land. His mind recounted the many times his brother Daniel...old doomsday Dan, he called him...had lectured and raved about the various scenarios that would change the world or worse, end the world. Dan, absolutely convinced that this below sea level, coastal city was not the place to be, sure that the ocean levels would rise and take out all the coastal cities in the world; every apocalyptic event from the financial collapse of America to massive earthquakes filled the brother's list of possible catastrophic happenings. Even though, Clay and Dan and their parents had always lived on or near the river in Louisiana, the paranoid brother moved away from the Gulf Coast, about three years earlier.

  A believer, a “Prepper”, Dan relocated to a small community in South Dakota very near the Missouri River. The Missouri flows right into the Mississippi River and Dan said, “When the S—hits-the-fan, you can navigate all the way to my place. That's why I chose a place south of the locks and dams on both rivers.” A software developer, he worked from home, his several acre farm and built up his supplies and preparations for the doomsday event that he was confident would come. He never gave up and tried consistently to persuade Clay to leave the coast.

  The expert hands barely moved the handles that extended from the wooden wheel. Just as Louis walked up beside him, he thought, Well, old Dan, I am afraid one of your nightmares has finally come true. The man didn't say anything to his boss, just waited for him to speak.

  Clay let his breath out in a long exhale and shook his head, “I think that crazy old Dan might have not been so crazy, my friend. Something way out of the norm has happened. When the vehicles go dead, it's electrical...like the whole electric grid is down. Only certain things would affect the cars, anything computerized. It could have been natural, like a solar flare or man made, an EMP. It may have been deliberate, intended to do just what it did, knock out the electric grid, cripple the world.”

  In amazement, Louis stared into the face of his friend, “You mean everywhere!”

  “Maybe not everywhere, on the other hand, possibly not just America but the world. We won't know for a while, something is very bad wrong. I do know that.” said Clay.

  Louis took off his cap and slapped it on his leg. “I trust you, you know that. If this is possible, I have to get Penny and Jacob. I'm going to take the dinghy and head back down river.”

  Clay said, “It's going to get more and more dangerous out there, Louis. You take plenty of fuel and get your wife and boy, catch back up with us. I'll move as slow as I can and stop if I can, I will be watching for you.” They clasped hands in a tight shake. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a key to a padlock, “Take that .38 and ammo from the gun closet. You be careful and stay safe.”

  “Clay, what about Angel and the girl?” said Louis.

  “No way that I could put her on the shore, not until we see what the situation really is. She'll have to stay on board for now,” he replied.

  The friend smiled, “Good boy. You stay safe and I will see you upriver.”

  Shortly, the small boat putt-ed away, traveled down river and the brown hand raised in a wave. Angeline and Allie stood at the rail and waved back until he was out of sight. Allie pranced back inside, found some cookies left on the table and went back to her drawing. Thick tendrils of Angel's hair came loose from the comb and her blouse blew around her, un-tucked. She moved around the narrow walkway and up into Clay's small space. She barely knew this man, only worked here on the boat a few days of the last two weeks.

  “Clay, do you need me to watch for the north side pier that is near our apartment?” she asked. His eyes were invisible behind the dark sunglasses. She liked to see people's eyes.

  He didn't take his gaze from the river ahead, he cleared his throat and spoke, “Angeline, I think that you and Allie better just stay on board for a while. I can't exactly explain what happened yet, it's sure not something good. I don't think you would be safe on the streets or in your apartment.”

  The woman tried to find a bit of her confidence and dignity, “I don't know about that. Are you sure? What do you think happened that is so bad?” She was accustomed to handling things on her own, she worked and took care of Allie, no partner, no support. Cook was the girl's father, but they never even really lived together and he gave no assistance, wanted no contact with his daughter. It was a battle to stay strong, but she decided that she could make it. She often felt weary though, so tired of every decision and responsibility being hers alone.

  “I am sorry, I wish I could be completely sure about what's going on. For now, I only know that I think we are safer out here on the river. I am counting on Louis to get his family and catch up with us.” He paused and asked, “You did bring some extra clothes for you and Allie, didn't you?” Clay always thought if you traveled on the river you never knew what might happen and extra clothes were a necessity. Of course, in his small quarters behind the control booth, he had his simple wardrobe of jeans, T-shirts and canvas shoes, with the additional jackets and rain slickers and wind suits.

  Not an over abundance of choices, that was a fact that Angeline had to accept. She said, “Yes, I have the extra clothes. And uh-h, Clay, thanks for letting us stay.” In the last two weeks, she had gotten more familiar with Louis than the captain. She hoped he would make it back to them with his family, she would feel more comfortable with him around.

  As she turned to leave, Clay said, “Angel, if you don't mind would you put together some of those sandwiches that we had for this afternoon?”

  “Sure, be glad to.”

  Even though Clay mostly ignored all the survivors stuff and the rantings of his brother, a few things actually made sense for living on a river boat. He did install a couple of solar panels with a battery bank and he had a generator. He ran a small television on occasion and a light or two. The most important job, the good size refrigerator that sat at one end of the bar, must be kept running. The bar was a typical long narrow stretch with six swivel stools permanently bolted down. If you perched on a bar stool, you looked across at a large painting of live oaks, a winding road with a plantation house in the distance. On the counter beneath the painting, a sink and propane cook top were installed. A narrow door, on the side opposi
te the frig, opened on floor to ceiling shelves that stretched for twelve feet, with just enough room to walk along in front of them. The shelves filled with canned and dried goods and various supplies that Dan had insisted on and Clay mostly agreed, were essential for survival. Another narrow door led to Clay's bunk quarters.

  Holding tanks for fresh water and actually holding tanks for the restroom that was on the other end of the open cabin, rested in the hull of the boat. A company on the shore emptied these tanks regularly. He kept as much diesel fuel as he could safely carry on board for the engine that ran the paddle wheel. Of course, by law a required number of life jackets were on board and the dinghy that Louis had taken. A narrow closet on one end of his bunk quarters, held several guns and ammunition, some flare guns. It did not take a survivalist to realize that living on the water required more planning and precautions than flip flops and a bottle of sun tan oil.

  The day drifted away, the Annie Belle slipped past the dock that was closest to the street where Angel and her little girl lived. As the land floated by, it was apparent that mayhem still reigned. They floated beyond some of the most populated areas of the city, the smoke and fires prevailed, no vehicles moved and now the evening shadows crept in and no lights glowed anywhere. When the dark fell, the city and suburbs of New Orleans would be extremely dangerous places. Clay had asked and been asked questions repeatedly, as they passed other water craft, over the last few hours. No one had any answers and he had none to offer. A time or two, someone tried to wave them in to the shore, yelled, “Give us a ride, take us up the river...stop! We need a ride.” Once, when Allie stood beside him, she looked up at his face with questions in her eyes.

  He said to her, as gently as possible, “Sorry, sweetie. We can't go to the land right now, it would not be safe. We can't pick up anyone.” He looked at Angel, “If she gets sleepy and you want to put her to bed, you can put her on my bunk, in my quarters behind the bar. I won't be sleeping much tonight anyway. Go through the supply shelving area, the door is on the left. As you walk through, you'll see some battery lanterns on the shelf. You better get a couple of those out.”