Free The Pulse by Scott B. Williams Page A

on the stern hadn’t started since the power surge.
    “It’s not just the dinghy motor either,” Pete said. “We’re pretty much dead in the water. Celebration is just too dependent on high-tech equipment. But oh, wow! What a beauty you guys are on! She looks like you just sailed her in from an era before all this stuff was needed.”
    “Yeah, Ibis is pretty sweet,” Larry said. “I wish she were mine, but as usual, I’m just doing a delivery.”
    “We thought we were doing the right thing,” Pete said, “setting the boat up for our retirement with all those gadgets to do the work for us. You know, when you’re an old fart like me, cranking a sheet winch by hand ain’t the fun it looks to be. Now all this technology has come back to bite
us on the ass, now that it won’t work anymore. Maryanne’s not taking it too well, but I told her, at least we’re safe out here on the boat, even if we just stay here in the harbor.”
    “So nothing is working on the island?” Larry asked.
    “As far as we can tell, no. We went to town several times yesterday, talked to a lot of people, tried to find out what we could. There’s no contact with the outside world at all. And no way to get off the island, unless you’re among the lucky few like us out here who have our own boats.”
    “What about the airport?” Artie was almost afraid to ask.
    “Burned all day and into the night yesterday. People on that end of the island say that right after the power went out, a Delta flight coming in from Fort Lauderdale crashed right into the terminal. Nothing has flown over here since.”
    Artie’s hopeful expression upon asking the question faded to a blank look of solemn acceptance. “I was afraid of that,” he said.
    Larry told Pete about the wreckage they had discovered late yesterday.
    “This isn’t gonna fix itself,” Pete said. “Hell, even most cars are shut down because of their electronic ignitions, just like my Honda outboard. People around here are saying that if that surge was strong enough to knock out practically everything with any kind of electrical or electronic circuit, then there won’t be any way to fix the damage for a long time.”
    “I guess it depends on how far-reaching the damage actually was,” Larry said, as he and Artie climbed into the dinghy for the short row back over to Celebration.

    “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Pete agreed.
    Pete secured the dinghy to the stern platform of the gleaming yacht and they all climbed into the cockpit, greeted by Maryanne, who had brought out a tray with four cups of coffee and a loaf of fresh-baked local bread along with a knife and butter dish.
    “We bought as much bread and fresh fruits and vegetables as we could find in the market yesterday,” she said. “The lines were already getting long and they were selling out fast.”
    “This is wonderful!” Artie said as he took a seat in the plush cockpit and reached for his coffee. I’ve barely eaten for the past three days.”
    “Offshore sailing didn’t agree too well with my brother,” Larry said. “But the light show he saw the other night cured him.”
    “So you saw it yourself?” Pete asked Artie.
    “Oh yeah. I was on watch when it happened. Couldn’t have missed it if I tried. The whole sky just lit up like daylight, except that there were all these different colors.”
    “We slept right through it, regrettably,” Maryanne said.
    “Yeah, that’s another thing about a boat like Celebration ,” Pete said. “Our stateroom is so well insulated down there that half the time you couldn’t tell if there was a hurricane blowing topsides.”
    “So this is a Tayana 54?” Larry asked. “First one I’ve been aboard, but I delivered a Tayana 42 Cutter from Annapolis to Antigua once. Solid boat.”

    “She’s comfortable, for sure,” Pete said. “Probably more boat than two people need for a retirement home, but you know, everybody is cruising bigger boats these days. You