At the precise moment of the Tomahawk’s annihilation of the Scalar weapon on Tenerife, the catastrophic chain reaction predicted by Yashiro came to a frightful realization.
The EM discharge that resulted from the sudden cessation lashed out violently, venting its massive power at the interferometer zone within the magma chamber kilometers beneath the Cumbre Vieja.
Like a monstrous snap at the end of a whip, the massive discharge erupted into a huge plasma orb within the confines of the molten rock beneath La Palma causing a titanic explosion in the convergence zone. The immense pressure generated was the final catalyst in the sequence of events that would ultimately culminate in the Cumbre Vieja’s final death throes. The gigantic conflagration of molten rock and heat in the magma core burst outward, taking on a life of its own as the entire caldera began to cave in on itself. The collapsing cooler sediments near the surface reacted violently with the extreme heat within, precipitating a second explosion of apocalyptic proportions that sent a colossal shock wave in all directions.
Turner, with only seconds to react, instinctively grabbed Maria by the hand as the precarious perch that held them quickly disappeared into the chasm. The force of the motion sent him slamming into the hard basalt ledge and Turner felt something snap in his left arm. In pain and near the point of blacking out, he held onto Maria’s hand with all his might as the two dangled in mid-air, whirling about like toys on a string. His mind screamed at him in pain to let go and just sink into the blackness, but he fought it with every inch of his being.
In seconds, the Sea Knight was swept away by the convulsive force of the pressure wave. Zibrinski called upon all of her skills as a pilot in an effort to counter the now wildly pitching CH-46. It yawed to and fro like a drunkard, falling down and away from the slopes.
The huge pressure wave tossed Samuel effortlessly against the opposite wall of the aircraft’s cabin. He feverishly tried to regain his footing as the Marine medic could do nothing but hold Eli Turner down.
Although his arm was aching and going numb, Turner held tight and refused to let go. He glanced up to see the enormous mushroom cloud of the erupting volcano as it billowed skyward. He saw flashes of lightning within the dark, broiling tempest as it expelled into the atmosphere. Turner looked down at Maria and saw her transfixed on what was transpiring beneath them. Zibrinski finally managed to regain control of the Sea Knight, and she leveled it out above the black sand beaches just below the city of Puerto Naos, a city that had only seconds to exist.
The landslide predicted by Pencor and Osama had been successfully averted earlier, but the unbridled eruption caused by the destruction of the Scalar weapon changed the course of events. The ridge line along the Cumbre Vieja evaporated as it imploded into the massive caldera and interacted with the fiery magma.
The lower elevations well below the fault line were being held by the friction force of gravity alone. Now, suddenly free
of the massive slab of land above, it released its tenuous grip on the surface and slid downward like a monstrous earthen avalanche, gaining strength and momentum as it swept through the city of Puerto Naos.
The city vanished in seconds under the onslaught of the rushing mass of earth and rock, leaving nothing left to indicate that it ever existed. The few looters who foolishly remained met with a sudden and violent death, being entombed for all time.
Turner stared in rapt horror as the massive, on-rushing thick slab of earth hit the ocean. The burst of energy moving at one hundred fifty miles per hour resulted in a gigantic splash of earth and sea. The tremendous displacement of seawater by the non-yielding mass of descending land created a huge upwelling of ocean, the likes few in recorded history have ever witnessed. As if a giant wave machine had been switched on, a towering wall of water over five hundred feet high was ejected out towards the open Atlantic Ocean, its height relative to the generally shallow waters of the Canary archipelagos.
Turner was suddenly jolted back to reality by the jarring motion of the electric winch being activated by Samuel, who had finally regained control. The two dangling archeologists slowly made their way to the doorway of the Sea Knight. Samuel, seeing the situation, raised Turner above the entryway and gave him the opportunity to take hold of Maria. He reached out, grabbed Maria by her belt and backpack, and
pulled her swiftly into the safety of the CH-46’s cabin. He then lowered Turner and retrieved him inside the cabin as well. He fell onto the metal deck, in pain and exhausted beyond all comprehension.
“We’ve got them on board, Major,” Samuel said over the headset intercom. Let’s get the hell out of here!”
“I’m one step ahead of you. We’re on our way.” Zibrinski replied, happy to still be in one piece after the wildest ride of her entire career.
After catching his breath, Turner crawled over to his father’s side as the medic had just finished placing an intravenous line in his arm.
“I’ve done all I can for him here, sir,” the medic yelled over the racket of the rotors. “We’ll contact the
Hazleton
and have the hospital prepared for him when we touch down.”
“Thank you,” Turner yelled, nodding in understanding as he slid his arm under his father and raised him up so he was cradled in his arms. The Marine medic had stopped the blood flow from the wound, but the damage was done as Turner looked upon his father and saw him open his eyes.
Eli had regained consciousness and saw his son looking at him. This caused the elder Turner to smile.
“I knew you would come for us, Son,” he said weakly as Turner leaned closer to hear him. “Forgive a foolish old man and his wild eyed schemes. I—”
“Dad, save your strength. We’ll talk when you’re safely on the ship.”
“No Josh,” he said, coughing up blood as he spoke. “There’s no time. I want you to know that I’ve lived a full life and…” he paused, tears welling up in his fiery blue eyes, “I want you to know how proud I am of you, and that I love you very much.”
“I love you, too, Dad.” Turner responded softly.
“Follow your heart, Son,” he said, coughing again in spasms as Maria and Samuel drew near to their stricken friend. “And once you find what you want, never let it go,” he said, looking at Samuel and Maria, who also had tears in their eyes. “That is all I can give to you; all a father can give to his son.” He said, coughing a bit more as Turner, with tears in his eyes, smiled at him.
“You’ve given me everything I could ever ask for, Dad.”
“Never forget, Son, I will always be a part of you,” he said in a faint whisper as Eli Turner let out his final breath. The fiery light in his eyes was gone as they shut for the final time.
“Dad, no….” Turner said silently as he gently cradled his deceased father in his arms and silently wept.
“I’m sorry, Josh.” Samuel said as he placed his hand on his friends back and fought off his own tears.
The three sat silently for the remainder of the flight as the CH-46 Sea Knight headed seaward for the
Hazleton
. Physically and emotionally, they had nothing left. After twenty-four hours of fighting to survive, overcoming violence and death, and endeavoring to save the lives of millions of people,
they were exhausted. As each of them shut their eyes, they reminisced of old times and good times with Eli.
After a long silence, Major Zibrinski finally contacted Colonel Sears in the attack Cobra. He had also been struck by the violent shock wave but, through sheer nerve and piloting skills, had averted the aircraft from certain destruction.
“Are you okay, Sid?” he asked over the radio, happy to hear her voice.
“Yes, sir, we’re fine here. It could have been a lot worse,” she replied as the two aircrafts flew over the frothing ocean, which was now blackened with debris from landslide. “Our number one turbine is still running a little hot, but number two has settled down. We’ll make it back okay.”
“I’ll fly as your wing, Major, until we reach the
Hazleton
. That is if they’re still afloat,” he said hesitantly. “I was able to get out a warning on the tidal wave to the
Hazleton
. I sure hope that she was in deep water.”
“Have you received any transmission from them since?” Zibrinski asked.
“They said they would contact us when it had passed, Sid. All we can do is
wait
.”
“I hope to God that I never see anything like that again, Colonel,” Sid confessed, shaken by the violent display of nature’s fury.
“I hate to think what’s going to happen when it reaches the U.S. coastline,” he said wistfully. Forcing himself back into
the reality of the current situation, he switched on his comm- system.
“USS
Hazleton,
this is Cobra Alpha three, two-niner. Do you copy? Over….” Nothing but an eerie silence permeated the headset as the two pilots began fearing the worst.
“USS
Hazleton
, do you copy? Over….” And still, there was silence.
37
A
board the USS
Hazleton
, Captain Jason McKnight had mere moments to react to the hurried warning given to him by Colonel Sears in the Cobra. He had felt uneasy for the last hour because of one of his gut feelings; feelings that he learned to pay attention to during his long career. In this instance, it would serve to save his ship and crew.
Picking up the ship’s intercom, he announced as calmly as he could, “This is the Captain speaking to all hands: clear all decks and man for heavy seas. A tsunami of substantial proportions is heading in our direction and will be bearing down on us in moments. I repeat, clear all decks and verify activation of all water tight doors.”
Throwing down the mic, he grabbed the watch binoculars and looked to the east. He saw immediately what looked to be a shrouded fog bank on the horizon. The fog bank that he knew to be a colossal wall of water now approached them at the speed of a jet aircraft.
“Aweigh anchors,” Mac yelled in stunned horror as the
wave’s
monstrous crest loomed closer and could now be seen clearly. “Do it now!” He bellowed as Commander Ewell grabbed the mic and gave the order to the anchor detail.
Mac recalled an earlier story of how one of the ships that survived the Lituya Bay mega-tsunami in Alaska back in the 1950s had been at anchor. The weight of the anchors maintained the ship’s forward direction into the huge column of water and had prevented its destruction. He didn’t know if it would work for them, but he was running on raw instinct now as the terrifying apparition rose ahead of them like a demon unfolding its blackened wings.
The vast wall of seawater had subsided in height as it moved into deeper waters, but at one hundred eighty feet in height, it was still a blood-curdling sight to behold.
Mac surveyed his bridge crew and saw the abstract horror in their eyes as they stood transfixed upon the unfurling monstrosity. He knew he had to shake them back into action.
“Helmsmen, bring her bow into the wave first and do it now!” he barked as the young helmsmen nervously spun the wheel and brought the vessel straight into the rapidly approaching wall of water. As he did, Mac picked up the intercom mic and yelled, “Engine room: I need full speed, now!”
The wave was upon them now. It reared up and blocked out the portal's view of the evening sky like a giant, tormented, greenish-black mountain that the old ship had to surmount. As the ship began its ascent over the massive wave, Mac hoped with all his being that the weight of both six ton anchors would keep her bow down, rather than flipped backward like a piece of flotsam in a storm.
The speed of the awesome wave made it almost impossible for the old ship to reach its pinnacle. As the angle of the
Hazleton
increased, the ship was slowly taken backward, spilling charts and anything not bolted down to the deck.
“Hang on, everyone!” Mac yelled above the deafening roar of the frightening apparition from hell that carried the
Hazleton
and her two escort ships higher and higher. Captain McKnight’s last minute decision to release anchors paid off for the ship and her crew, as the anchors’ massive weight dragged over the ocean floor at a frightening speed. The gears of the motorized friction-brake winches controlling the anchors sheared off in seconds, sending the twenty-five pound steel links hurtling outward at a frenzied speed. Smoke from the burned-out winches soon filled the ship's bow section. Though useless against this massive onslaught, the two anchors were enough to keep the bow of the
Hazleton
straight into the wave.
“C’mon, baby, you can do it,” Mac grumbled under his breath. All of a sudden he heard the massive snap of the anchor links as each were torn from the ship's capstans. In one horrific surge, the bow of the
Hazleton
buried itself into the hellish blackened water.
The immense pressure smashed the two windows on the port side of the bridge, sending a torrent of seawater cascading inward. Two of the bridge's crewmen were hurled backward against the bulkhead. Total chaos ruled as the
lights on the bridge went out, momentarily thrusting them into total darkness.