Free Long Voyage Back by Luke Rhinehart Page A
Authors: Luke Rhinehart
with the Federal government.'
`What about WBZE here in Norfolk? Do they have access to the ABC news wire?'
`No. All three network news services are out.' `What about the west coast centres?'
`Los Angeles and San Francisco were both hit, John. There's just no contact . .
`What about military targets here in the Norfolk area?'
`The mayor has ordered the evacuation of all non, essential personnel,' the other voice replied. 'I'm afraid that with the US Naval base here and the shipyards in Portsmouth, this would appear to be a prime target area . .
Neil knew that if Norfolk, at the mouth of the Chesapeake, were hit, they might never escape to sea.
By the time they were away from Crisfield and on their way to Point Lookout the net effect on Neil of listening to the frenzied preliminary reports of destruction was to produce a strange and unexpected emotion which, he realized after a moment, was shame. He felt like a child whose classmates have run amok: although he wasn't personally involved, the destruction was somehow his responsibility. Yet the dawn and early morning hours almost belied the reports they were hearing. A third of the way across the bay the day was clear; the sun shone brightly on the still water. A mile away Smith and Tangier Islands lay lush and green and silent like some bucolic utopia. Land and houses on the now receding eastern shore lay gleaming with postcard-like clarity. There even seemed to be an oysterman up and working the oysterbeds to the southeast. It was as if the radio reports were an Orson Welles prank. But to the northwest the nightmare of the new life was clear: a huge grey cloud spread over half the northwest horizon, quite dark low in the sky, but the greyness reaching quite high up. The mass had no shape but was diffuse. A second area of cloudiness to the northeast was merging with it. Philadelphia? Only from the east through south to due west was the sky still clear. Norfolk still lived.
By 8 A.M. the breeze began to pick up and Neil felt that if it held or freshened further they would make Point Lookout by ten-thirty. As their progress became routine and they ceased listening to the radio Neil was saddened that he felt no desire to try to rush northward to anyone's rescue. When he imagined his parents struggling to survive after an explosion over Boston and great damage to their town of Ocean Bluff he felt depressed and vaguely ashamed, but the idea that he could get there and become a rescuer simply had no reality. Frank's plan seemed insane. For Neil it was as if the war had created a new world, one which ended all previous relationships. One's family would now be defined by those one found oneself with. And the new world, for Neil, would survive only if they could make it out to sea.
`What do you know about nuclear fallout?' Jim asked from beside him, interrupting his thoughts.
Ènough,' Neil replied.
`That stuff we see ahead of us is radioactive fallout,' Jim said. He looked at Neil as if searching to see how horrible this fact was. The grey cloud cover to the northwest was more pronounced now that the sun was higher in the sky. It also seemed to be spreading slightly towards them.
`Yes,' said Neil. 'I expect it is.'
Ìt will spread,' Jim said.
`Yes,' Neil replied quietly. 'But we're almost a hundred miles away.'
`We won't be at Point Lookout,' Jim replied. 'And even so I think it's got closer since dawn.'
Neil squinted at it as if noting the fact for the first time. `Maybe,' he said. 'But this northeast wind is helping us. It's moving the stuff away at right angles.'
`You told me earlier you think the wind will be shifting to the north,' Jim persisted. Neil went out into the port cockpit to adjust the genny sheet, and then returned to the wheel.
`We do what we must do, Jim,' he said. 'Right now we're
sailing Vagabond to Point Lookout.'
Ànd when that stuff starts falling on deck?' Jim asked, still searching Neil's face for Neil's fear.
Neil hid it and looked back at
`What about WBZE here in Norfolk? Do they have access to the ABC news wire?'
`No. All three network news services are out.' `What about the west coast centres?'
`Los Angeles and San Francisco were both hit, John. There's just no contact . .
`What about military targets here in the Norfolk area?'
`The mayor has ordered the evacuation of all non, essential personnel,' the other voice replied. 'I'm afraid that with the US Naval base here and the shipyards in Portsmouth, this would appear to be a prime target area . .
Neil knew that if Norfolk, at the mouth of the Chesapeake, were hit, they might never escape to sea.
By the time they were away from Crisfield and on their way to Point Lookout the net effect on Neil of listening to the frenzied preliminary reports of destruction was to produce a strange and unexpected emotion which, he realized after a moment, was shame. He felt like a child whose classmates have run amok: although he wasn't personally involved, the destruction was somehow his responsibility. Yet the dawn and early morning hours almost belied the reports they were hearing. A third of the way across the bay the day was clear; the sun shone brightly on the still water. A mile away Smith and Tangier Islands lay lush and green and silent like some bucolic utopia. Land and houses on the now receding eastern shore lay gleaming with postcard-like clarity. There even seemed to be an oysterman up and working the oysterbeds to the southeast. It was as if the radio reports were an Orson Welles prank. But to the northwest the nightmare of the new life was clear: a huge grey cloud spread over half the northwest horizon, quite dark low in the sky, but the greyness reaching quite high up. The mass had no shape but was diffuse. A second area of cloudiness to the northeast was merging with it. Philadelphia? Only from the east through south to due west was the sky still clear. Norfolk still lived.
By 8 A.M. the breeze began to pick up and Neil felt that if it held or freshened further they would make Point Lookout by ten-thirty. As their progress became routine and they ceased listening to the radio Neil was saddened that he felt no desire to try to rush northward to anyone's rescue. When he imagined his parents struggling to survive after an explosion over Boston and great damage to their town of Ocean Bluff he felt depressed and vaguely ashamed, but the idea that he could get there and become a rescuer simply had no reality. Frank's plan seemed insane. For Neil it was as if the war had created a new world, one which ended all previous relationships. One's family would now be defined by those one found oneself with. And the new world, for Neil, would survive only if they could make it out to sea.
`What do you know about nuclear fallout?' Jim asked from beside him, interrupting his thoughts.
Ènough,' Neil replied.
`That stuff we see ahead of us is radioactive fallout,' Jim said. He looked at Neil as if searching to see how horrible this fact was. The grey cloud cover to the northwest was more pronounced now that the sun was higher in the sky. It also seemed to be spreading slightly towards them.
`Yes,' said Neil. 'I expect it is.'
Ìt will spread,' Jim said.
`Yes,' Neil replied quietly. 'But we're almost a hundred miles away.'
`We won't be at Point Lookout,' Jim replied. 'And even so I think it's got closer since dawn.'
Neil squinted at it as if noting the fact for the first time. `Maybe,' he said. 'But this northeast wind is helping us. It's moving the stuff away at right angles.'
`You told me earlier you think the wind will be shifting to the north,' Jim persisted. Neil went out into the port cockpit to adjust the genny sheet, and then returned to the wheel.
`We do what we must do, Jim,' he said. 'Right now we're
sailing Vagabond to Point Lookout.'
Ànd when that stuff starts falling on deck?' Jim asked, still searching Neil's face for Neil's fear.
Neil hid it and looked back at