Deluge (The Best Thrillers Book 2) by James Best (ebook reader with built in dictionary .txt) 📕

“What does that mean?” O’Brian asked.

Evarts shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably that the state is doomed.”

Chapter 44

Baldwin and the others huddled in Wilson’s flat, attempting to dry out. When they’d left the San Francisco State University campus, no cabs or hailed car service could be found, so they had taken the bus again, which necessitated some extended walks in the downpour. No one spoke because none were in a talkative mood.

“We cannot give up,” Ashley said into the silence.

Smith harrumphed. “Says the man who thought he could out-manipulate a politician.”

“It did not matter,” Ashley said. “But I should have known. Politicians never take a risk.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Smith said sarcastically. “Politicians loathe dropping nukes on their voters. It gives them the willies.”

“Better than letting the entire state drown,” Ashley protested. “It was not an ill-conceived notion.”

Baldwin had moments before ended a call with her husband. She had taken it in a corner of the studio and had recently rejoined the group at an eating area that delineated the kitchen zone. She told them that the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory had been examining the same concept and that they had concerns about radiation and earthquakes. She said that the lab worried mostly about the political ramifications, since radiation and earthquakes were not particularly popular in California. After the governor’s press conference, the lab assumed that state government objections were insurmountable. She smiled to take the sting out of her next tidbit. Since lab personnel were unaware that the MOAB recommendation was a ruse to get them to look at tactical nukes, they had concluded that the four of them were idiots.

“Well, I concur with that opinion,” Smith said.

“None of this matters any longer,” Wilson said. “The sky will fall, and the peasants will drown. That’s the way of the world. Let’s get drunk.”

“That’s not an answer,” Baldwin said. “But … I would enjoy a glass of wine.”

They busied themselves opening a bottle of wine, cutting cheese, and spreading out melba toast on a plate. Not a banquet, but in the circumstances, a pleasant respite. The first, and only bottle, was gone in a flash. Smith and Baldwin ran upstairs to buy a few more bottles. As they checked out, the gray-haired clerk said that, considering the circumstances, she supposed drinking wine was as good an alternative as any.

“What circumstances?” Baldwin asked.

“The TV.” She pointed to a television mounted high on the wall. The sound had been muted, but the agitation of the newscasters was obvious. The chyron read, “O’Shaughnessy Dam collapse harms San Francisco.”  In smaller letters below, it read “Water and power at risk.”

Smith grabbed the bottles and said “Come on. Let’s get back.”

When they entered the flat downstairs, Wilson and Ashley were chuckling like a couple of teenagers. Baldwin had the impression that if they hadn’t returned when they did, they might have found the flat locked, with a man’s tie hanging from the door handle.

Smith immediately went to the remote and turned on the television.

The newscaster was saying, “San Francisco receives eighty-five percent of its water from the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir, which sits behind the O’Shaughnessy Dam. A dam that no longer exists. This dam also produced over seven hundred million kilowatt-hours of electricity per year for the city. The mayor has declared an emergency, and water as of this moment is severely rationed. All car washes, pools, ice manufacturing, fish processing, and many other water-intensive industries are immediately closed by city order. Although no one would intentionally water a lawn in this rain, the use of water for any landscape purpose is strictly forbidden. All automatic sprinkler systems should be shut off. It appears that for the first time in a century, San Francisco will be forced to pump and filter its water. The question on the minds of nearly three million people in the Bay Area is, how long it will take to replace the water supply for the city? Our sources said months. The irony, of course, is that after over a week of nonstop rain, how can the city be out of fresh water … and potentially short of electricity?”

“Oh, crap,” Smith said. “The Restore Hetch Hetchy activists got their wish. They’ve hated that dam since John Muir fought its construction early in the last century. Now we’ll see how Sierra Club members with a 94123 zip code like rustic living.”

“Don’t fool yourself,” Wilson said. “The rich always live comfortably. It’s the peons who’ll suffer. If need be, the rich will have Perrier home-delivered in quantities large enough to shower whenever they want.”

Ashley walked over and turned on the faucet. Water flowed. He said, “I do not understand.”

“Turn that off,” Wilson said. “You’re wasting water in the pipeline.”

He turned off the tap and pointed at the faucet. “This water comes from the Sierras? That’s hard to believe. Why? The Delta always has water.”

“It’s pure mountain water,” Wilson said. “We’re one of the few major cities in the world that doesn’t filter its tap water. It’s uncontaminated … and delivery is gravity fed. The city moves it from the mountains to that tap without fossil fuels.” She stroked the faucet spout. “Our pristine mountain water is a matter of civic pride.”

“As well as the pee on the sidewalks,” Smith said. “Gravity fed, pure, and one hundred percent organic.”

“Guys, quit squabbling,” Baldwin said, pointing at the television. “The Don Pedro Dam just below Hetch Hetchy also failed. Modesto and outlying areas are in the flood path. People are dying, and you’re worried about showering.”

“Modesto’s about eighty miles north of Pacheco Pass,” Ashley said. “Maybe if we—”

“Hush!” Baldwin demanded. “I’m trying to hear the news.”

An aerial shot from a helicopter showed water washing down from the Don Pedro Reservoir. The liquid assault shoved cars down the street, tipping some of them over. Baldwin hoped the vehicles were empty, but since several had been driving away, they were probably filled with families attempting to escape the floodwaters. Then a house blew apart, as if