ENDURE: Epoch’s End Book 1 : (A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller Series) (Epoch's End) Page 2

  “Congratulations,” Tom said, and he meant it. “I know how hard it is for young tech startups to gather funding to build delicate and expensive machines. There’s a lot of interest in it these days with all the conservation efforts happening.”

  “I love undersea television shows,” Sam spouted, her girlish enthusiasm showing through. “I want to be a marine biologist, sort of like my dad.”

  “You’re a marine biologist?” Suresh asked with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll bet you get out on the water a lot.”

  “Not really a biologist,” Tom dismissed the notion. “I’m more of an engineer. I spend most of my time testing and analyzing propulsion systems for the Navy on behalf of Maniford Aquatics. I was part of the Sub-X project a few years back.”

  Suresh’s eyes grew wide and he glanced down at his own rovers self-consciously. “That’s amazing! The Sub-X was a beast!”

  “It still is,” Tom nodded, a slight grin playing at the edges of his mouth.

  “I mean, that monster could hover at a depth of thirteen thousand feet for five months.” The man’s voice rose to a higher pitch, his grin wide. “You guys took samples and videos of places no one had ever seen.”

  “It was a challenging project.” Tom smiled with pride. “I’m glad you enjoyed our work.”

  “I’ll keep following the progress.” Suresh held out a card with aqua blue coloring, hand shaking almost imperceptibly. “Here. Take our card. Please.”

  Tom accepted the man’s card and thanked him, then he and Sam turned away from the display.

  “Can I have one of those rovers for my birthday instead of a car?” Sam asked, one corner of her mouth lifting in a smart smile.

  “That’s a lot of weekends working at the ice cream shop,” Tom smiled. “Take you a few centuries to save up.”

  “I was hoping to get a loan,” she countered.

  Tom laughed as they strolled along, arm thrown over her shoulder. “Ohhh, right. At the First Bank of Dad, I assume?”

  The pair continued their Expo tour, stopping by a 3-D model of the sub-oceanic crust. They wowed at dozens of undersea gadgets, advanced breathing apparatuses, and diving suits on display. At the end of the row, a massive, high-definition display hung on the wall beneath a sign that read Ocean Watch. Sam rushed forward, leaning up against the table and staring up at the Ultra 8K video of a school of whales cruising through the ocean.

  Ocean Watch had grown in popularity since its inception a few years prior, with a goal of providing twenty-four-hour news and livestreams related to the world’s oceans. They broadcasted specials on oceanic policing, pollution, and nature shows focused on the magnificent world beneath the vast blue surface.

  Tom caught up to Sam, watching her wide eyes with his hands in his pockets. She streamed the channel almost twenty-four hours a day while doing homework or before bed. He couldn’t be certain she’d really follow through with becoming a marine biologist, but she certainly had the enthusiasm for it, and her aptitude was off the charts.

  A woman approached them with her hands behind her back, wearing a blue Ocean Watch T-shirt. She let them study the screen for a minute before addressing them. “Can I help you with anything?”

  “Ocean Watch is my favorite channel,” Sam said, her green eyes wide at the massive display.

  “Have you signed up for our mailing list?” The employee flashed a pleased smile.

  “Absolutely,” Sam replied. “I get all your notifications and watch all of your extra content.”

  “That’s a stunning display,” Tom said with a nod.

  “It’s one of the biggest interactive Ultra 8K displays in the world,” she said with a smile. “We film all of our oceanic content at that definition, which, as you can see, delivers stunning results.”

  An in-screen box nestled in the top right corner showed an Ocean Watch reporter with the Ocean Watch logo emblazoned on her shirt. Standing on a windy pier, the woman’s black hair gusted around her head as she pressed her hand against her earpiece. Something on the ticker running across the bottom of the screen caught Tom’s eye.

  “Can you turn that up?” Tom asked the Ocean Watch employee.

  “Oh, sure,” she replied. She lifted a remote control and pointed it at the screen. A sound bar appeared and inched upward, the reporter’s voice growing louder and clearer.

  “We’ve just received a report from our North Atlantic research vessel about a mysterious change in migratory patterns off the New England coast.” She turned and glanced over her left shoulder. “Schools of humpback whales, dolphins, and bluefin tuna have turned south, abandoning seasonal feeding grounds for reasons unknown, although a contributing factor could be some unusual seismic activity reported along the continental shelf near New England. Ocean Watch reporters are working with the Oceanic Research Institute and the USGS to find out just what’s happening. We’re not sure what this will mean to fisheries off the coast, but we’ll bring you more information as it arrives.”

  The in-screen box changed to a woman in a wet suit training a group of whales.

  “What does that mean?” Sam peered up at her father. “What she said about the feeding grounds.”

  “What do you think?” Tom asked her.

  Sam twisted her face in thought, eyes lifting. “I’d say it would have to be something massive, dynamic event to drive whales and fish out of their feeding grounds. Could an earthquake do that?”

  “I’m… not sure,” Tom said, frowning.

  “We have reliable monitoring equipment,” the Ocean Watch woman said with a smile. “We use pattern-recognition satellite software and have connections to crews in almost every ocean. Only the United States Navy has better equipment.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Tom gave the woman a polite smile and a nod, a twinge of fear and heat flitting through his stomach. “But if what they’re saying is true, it could mean some real problems for the upcoming fishing season.” He shrugged, forcing a smile and gave Sam a nudge. They walked away, looking around for another good display. They’d been in Portland since Wednesday but still had almost a quarter of the showroom left to explore.

  “What do you want for lunch?” Tom asked, trying to put the thought of the odd report out of his mind.

  “I don’t know,” Sam replied with a shrug. “I liked the place we ate on Thursday.”

  “I was hoping you would say that.” Tom’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he reached to take it out. “Vietnamese it is.” Reading the caller ID, he felt his stomach drop. “Sorry, hon, I need to get this call. You go ahead.”

  Sam nodded and skipped ahead without him, her eye caught by a flashy fishery and aquaculture display.

  Tom accepted the call and put his phone to his ear, his greeting tinged with a deep sigh and a hint of suspicion. “What’s the emergency, Ray?”

  Ray Leeds led the Maniford Aquatics Engineering project team and had a brilliant mind for bringing the right people together to complete a job. Tom held Ray in high regard since they’d started working together over a decade ago, but Ray rarely called on weekends unless he needed a fire put out.

  “Hello, Tom!” Ray’s voice was unusually chipper. “How’s it going in Portland?”

  “The weather’s been beautiful, and we’re having a grand time at the tech convention,” Tom said through half-gritted teeth, glancing at Sam where she spoke animatedly with the presenter. “All-in-all, it’s been a great mini-vacation. I’ll be nice and fresh when I come back to the office on Monday.”

  “That’s… heh. That’s the problem, Tom.” Ray’s frown found its way across the line. “I need you today on the Marin as soon as possible. She’s part of the Navy’s North Atlantic Task Force, stationed a few hundred miles off the New England coast. I’ve got a chopper coming to pick you up now.”

  Tom winced, stomach sinking farther, and he half-turned away from Samantha, lowering his voice. “I can’t do that. I’ve got Sam with me, and she’s looking forward to Vietnamese food for lunch.”
br />   “No worries! You can bring her along,” Ray said. “I’ll have the ship’s mess cook up something special for both of you.” When Tom didn’t immediately reply, Ray pressed on, his tone firm and unyielding. “Look, Tom. It’s nothing dangerous. I just need you to double check some data and help us with some detailed seafloor mappings.”

  “What about Sue Anne? She’s as good as me.”

  “Sue Anne has the coding skills, but she’ll need your help to validate the data,” Ray went on in that plaintive yet firm way he always did, making it seem like Tom was the only aquatics engineer employed by Maniford Aquatics. “You practically built the Proctor Software from scratch. You know where all the possible glitches and important bits are.”

  Heat rose from Tom’s sinking stomach, and his voice dripped with the dry tone of frustration. “It’s not something that can wait until Monday? This is the last day I’ll have with my daughter here in Portland, and I’ll be home by tomorrow morning.”

  “This is important. Trust me. It’s something you’ll want to see.” A measure of pleading crept into Ray’s tone. “I’ll even give you an extended break for Christmas. I’m talking four weeks and an additional three percent bonus on top of what you already get. Whatever you want.”

  Tom watched Sam grinning at the displays, already planning a way to tell her they had to cut their trip short. The hours he worked under Ray were exhaustive, and his family often suffered for it. Tom apologized at least once a week for missing some teacher’s meeting or one of Sam’s sports events. But that was the price one payed for joining a cutting-edge startup business that didn’t outsource every aspect of the business. No, Maniford did almost everything in-house. And Tom was the best of the best – and Ray knew it.

  “Okay, but I want all that in writing. Send over an email. Now. The entire month of December off, with a five percent bonus thrown in.”

  Ray’s chair audibly creaked as he sat back and sighed in relief. “Consider it done! There’s a chopper due to land in…” Ray spoke to someone off to the side before coming back to Tom. “Three minutes, on the baseball field behind the Portland Exposition Building.”

  “Wait, what? Right now?”

  “See you in two hours.”

  Ray hung up, and Tom placed the phone back in his pocket, red-faced, chin low. A wave of disappointment lifted his chest, and he let out a breath of frustration. His time with Sam was – was supposed to be – sacrosanct, and cutting their trip short was going to cost him some major points. Not to mention what Barbara's going to think.

  Carefully, lips lengthened into a grimace, he approached the girl and rested his hand on her shoulder. Sam turned, her expression falling as soon as she saw the look on his face.

  “We’re leaving, aren’t we?” Her lips sank in a deep frown, her green eyes already glassing over with moisture.

  Tom’s heart broke on the spot. Not only was he having a good time at the Expo, but their father-daughter time was important in keeping her on the right track as she approached adulthood and faced real-world problems.

  “I’m afraid so, honey. That was Ray, and he needs me to verify some data for him. Right away." Tom rolled his eyes. "It's probably nothing, but he insists that it’s super important.”

  Sam only knew Ray as the guy who always took her father away, which had made him her arch nemesis. “Of course, it was Ray." Her voice grew in volume along with her frustration. "Doesn’t Ray have a family, too?”

  “Hey, take it easy, Sam. I don't think I'd be getting interrupted on the weekend if it wasn't important.”

  “Just like every other time.” Sam made an exasperated noise. "Mom says he's a—"

  Tom laughed, interrupting her before she could finish the thought. "Mom's not wrong." His expression grew pained again and he shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, kiddo. Hey – I always make it up to you, right?"

  Sam's crossed arms grew looser as she considered his point, before finally dropping them to her sides. "Yeah… but just wait till mom hears about this. She's gonna be—"

  "Sam…" Tom chuckled again. "Come on, let's hustle. I think you're going to enjoy this, actually."

  They exited the building, and he called for her to take a left, pointing her through the parking lot where they’d parked their Hyundai rental car. Sam stopped at the car, waiting for him, but Tom walked right by, angling for the baseball field, leaving her to trail behind him.

  “Uh, Dad? The car’s right here.”

  Tom kept walking as the fast chuffing sounds of helicopter rotors drew near. Sam called to him twice more before he finally heard her sneakers pounding on the pavement after him as she caught up to his side.

  Reaching the ballpark fence, Tom opened a gate and stepped through, descending a set of metal stairs to the ball field.

  “What are you doing?” Sam traipsed down the steps behind him, her feet making hollow sounds on the metal as her thumb hitched over her shoulder. “The car is back there.”

  “There’s been a change of plans. I told you that you might enjoy this, didn't I?” Tom grinned secretively, giving her a conspiratorial wink before staring upward as the Navy Sea Hawk helicopter swept in over their heads in a wash of wind and noise. Its tail stretched long behind a rectangular body, twin turboshafts whooshing menacingly on either side of the engine. With a receded cockpit, its chin stood out, mounted with an array of sensory equipment.

  The aircraft soared close over their heads and angled down toward the outfield. “We’re taking a limo.”

  Sam’s curls whipped around her head as she gawked at the light gray chopper settling onto the stretch of short green grass, its blades chopping the air, whipping bending blades of grass to the ground in massive swaths. They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Tom leapt the rail and landed on the soft turf, turning to reach up to his daughter. Sam took his hands and jumped over to stand with him, eyes wide and staring, mouth hanging open.

  A woman in a blue digital uniform with a rounded, bulky helmet dropped from the crew area and gestured them over.

  “Let’s go,” Tom shouted over the noise

  “Wait!” Sam grabbed a ponytail holder from her pocket, pulling her mane of hair through it. “Okay!”

  Tom took her hand, and together they ducked and jogged toward the helicopter. Her shocked expression only grew as the wind cut at them, whipping their light jackets and forcing them to lean forward to keep moving.

  "Sorry again, kiddo!" Tom shouted over the whine of the engines as they began to spool back up.

  Sam's expression was no longer one of disappointment, but of awe. “Dad, are you serious? This is awesome!”

  Chapter 2

  Barbara McKnight,

  Wyndale, Virginia

  “Linda, Jack, let’s go!” Barbara McKnight called as she turned on the John Deere mower and waited for them to get in the wagon along with their buckets of feed and bales of hay. She’d just finished loading the heavier bales of hay into the trailer, and the heady scents of grass, manure, and mud drifted through the air.

  The kids were played over by the pond, wasting time while she itched to get on to the heavier farm chores. Looking down, she flexed her calloused, tanned hands, nails cut short and colorless, fingers strengthened from years of farm work. Still, they were thin and nimble with just a few wrinkles.

  She shifted in her seat, taking the pressure off the Smith & Wesson pistol holstered on the back of her right hip, and checked her watch. It was already 11:23 a.m., and they had a lot left to do.

  The kids ran around the nursery building, Jack soaking wet and Linda dry except for a big dripping spot on the front of her shirt.

  Barbara clicked her tongue. “I leave you guys alone for ten minutes and you end up soaking wet. Linda, you’re supposed to be watching him.”

  Looking guilty, the girl offered an excuse. “He keeps falling in. What should I do about that?”

  “She sprayed me with the hose,” Jack accused her in return, an innocent look on his face as he pointed to his
sister.

  “Given the evidence,” Barbara frowned, “I’d say there’s a bit of truth to both stories. Get in the wagon so we can get moving, please.”

  “Can we go get changed first?” Linda asked.

  “Nope,” Barbara shook her head. “Learn to keep dry. Now you can spend the next two hours working in your wet clothes. Hop in.”

  The kids grumbled as they climbed into the back of the wagon, sitting opposite one another on the benches that ran along the insides, feet propped up on the bales of hay. Linda was fourteen with a light sense of humor, and Jack was six and as inquisitive as a cat. The younger two kids were opposite their older sister Sam, who was in that phase where she took everything way too seriously sometimes.

  Foot on the gas, Barbara moved the mower forward, sitting loose in the seat, letting her body sway with the bumps. The McKnight compound was laid out in a circular fashion. If standing on the concrete back patio, looking out toward their woods, she’d see a small duck pond slightly off to the left, able to accommodate a dozen or so animals, its edges covered in finely trimmed grass, the surface mirroring the grey clouds above.

  Nestled close to that was the nursery where they kept their baby rabbits, chicks, and goats as soon as they were born. Beyond those structures, and farther left, were the animal pens, an old barn, and a feed yard for the larger animals. Directly ahead was their greenhouse with its clean, shimmering glass, and off to the right was their newest barn and generator shed, both painted a deep red color like something out of a painting.

  She’d normally have an hour of Tom’s time in the early morning to help with chores before he started working from home or had to drive in to the office, but he and Sam had taken half a week off to go to Portland for an aquatic tech convention. Barbara was counting on her youngest two to backfill, though it was debatable how much they were actually contributing to the cause.