Wave
Authors: Wil Mara
The Sea Is Moving
The sea withdrew as if someone had yanked out its rubber plug, then reversed course, swelling violently. The wave surged forward.
It was not a “surfer’s curl” with a little crest at the top. It was as ugly as the destruction it promised—a hurried, disorganized rise, as if the Atlantic Ocean were being pushed forward by the hand of God. The deafening roar that accompanied it was like something from another universe. The wave climbed the slant of the beach with no effort, enveloping and moving swiftly over the dunes. It ate an eighteen-mile-long row of hundred-year-old homes without a pause.
Water gushed down access paths and alleyways. Telephone poles snapped like twigs, leaving behind jagged stumps. A rusted pickup truck was scooped up and carried some seventy feet before striking a flagpole, then rolling side-over-side until it landed on someone’s front porch.
In part of a long line of cars headed for the bridge, hundreds of residents watched in terror as the Atlantic Ocean rose up and over homes, businesses, and roadways. Suddenly it was no longer theoretical, no longer merely a news report—it was here, and it was real. Tons of water rushing at breakneck speed and filling every available opening.
Fear escalated out of control.
WAVE
Wil Mara
A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK
NEW YORK
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
WAVE
Copyright © 2005 by Wil Mara
Originally published in hardcover by Plexus Publishing, Inc., in 2005.
All rights reserved.
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
ISBN 978-0-7653-6392-3
First Tor Edition: June 2010
Printed in the United States of America
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To Francis James Mara, Jr.
1958–2003
“May light perpetual shine upon him.”
It would have been impossible to write this book without the help of some very fine individuals. I pray I haven’t forgotten any of them.
First and foremost, boundless gratitude goes to John B. Bryans, my editor at Plexus Publishing and my good and dear friend. He has been nothing short of amazing in his support and enthusiasm for this project. From the moment he received an e-mail from me saying, “Hey, I’ve got an idea for a book,” to the very last red mark on the very last page, he has operated above and beyond the call. Every author should be so fortunate, at least once in his career, to work with an editor of this caliber. I sincerely hope the end of this novel does not also mark the end of our professional association.
Equal appreciation must go to the man who made sure all the facts about tsunamis were kept straight’Dr. Eddie Bernard, director of the Pacific Marine Environmental Laboratory in Seattle, Washington. Eddie gave so generously of his time and his knowledge that merely mentioning him in these acknowledgments does him no justice. He cared for this story as if it were his own, such is his passion for his work. I came out of the blue, hopeful yet hopeless, and never once did he treat me like a stranger. Sound scientific advice was also given by Dr. Stewart Farrell, the director of the Richard Stockton Coastal Research Center. I thank him for his time, his energy, and his insight. If any errors in oceanographic factuality remain, they are either the product of intentional fictionalization or slipups for which I am solely responsible.
I must thank my wife, Tracey, and my three children, Lindsey, Jessica, and Jenna, for their patience and understanding. I tried my best to construct this book during the early hours of the morning, when I ran the least risk of absenteeism. But there were times when that just wasn’t possible (e.g., weekend research trips to LBI). My family never complained, but I know they sometimes wonder why I didn’t choose a more “normal” profession. (Answer: I didn’t—it chose me.)
The late James J. Mancini, longtime mayor of Long Beach Township, spared several hours on a cold and rainy morning to talk about evacuation procedures, show photos of some of LBI’s past disasters, and tell some very sobering stories. Those few precious hours mark the only time I ever met the man, but I came away deeply impressed and somewhat enamored—he had a charm about him that was impossible to resist. In that single encounter I could feel how much he loved LBI and its people. When I learned of his passing, I felt a genuine sense of loss. It would have been nice to visit with him one more time and give him a copy of this book.
Gloria “Mama” Palmisano, who has also passed away since I began writing this story, was kind enough to loan me her beach house in Manahawkin so I had someplace to lay my hat while I put this thing together. She is yet another example of overwhelming generosity that made this book much better than it would have been otherwise.
John Bryans’s wife, Jenny, took the time to join John and me for dinner in the spring of 2003. She’s a wonderful person and a delightful host. (Like me, John married “up.”) Jane Bonnell was kind enough to read through the manuscript in its early stages and offer suggestions. I also spent some time pitching ideas back and forth with Peter Snell, Lisa Iarkowski, Sophie Papanikoloau, and Anne Garcia (a budding author in her own right). And I was fortunate enough to receive some superb feedback from Tom Hogan, Sr., president and CEO of Plexus Publishing, Inc., as well as Amy Holmes, managing editor, and Tom Hogan, Jr., marketing director. Dawn Messenger provided important input on technical details. These people probably don’t realize how useful intelligent feedback is to a novelist. Reliable sounding boards are hard to come by; when you find one, you use it.
On a somewhat wackier note, I suppose I should thank the spammers out there in cyberspace for once again providing all the fictional names I needed for a story. By using the names that appear in the dozens of unsolicited e-mails that clog my inbox every day rather than tap my own creative resources, I almost feel it justifies the spam. So kudos to that branch of the loser nation for saving me the trouble—keep ’em coming.
For this paperback edition, kudos to Melissa Singer for her unyielding faith in the book, Tom Doherty for taking the time to read it through, and Melissa Frain for her assistance in getting the new pages just right. I am most grateful to all of you.
Finally, I’d like to thank the many residents of Long Beach Island I encountered during my visits there. They were kind, courteous, and giving, just as their reputation suggests. LBI is a wonderful Jersey Shore community, and I envy all those who have the privilege of calling it home.
Writing a fictional story about a real place is always tricky. The challenge is constantly put to you to decide where to remain in reality and where to drift into fantasy.
Mark Twain promised to move entire towns and rivers in his stories if it fit his purposes. I didn’t take quite so severe an approach, but I did exercise a handful of creative liberties here and there. Most are minor and will probably go unnoticed by most readers. One major overhaul, however, involves the geography of the Edwin B. Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge, located on LBI’s southernmost tip: I made it larger and more complex, almost mazelike. You’ll see why.
Also, a note to all naysayers who would scoff at the notion of a tidal wave coming to life in the Atlantic Ocean via the way I have described it. It is not only within the realm of the possible, it is
very
possible. When I first had the idea for this story, I promised myself I would write it only if I could make the birth of the wave
believable
. That meant, quite frankly, that “Hollywood-type crap” (e.g., an asteroid the size of Texas spins out of the sky and slams into the sea, or a giant brooding creature buried under the ocean floor for the last eight millennia finally awakens) was out of the question.
To make this happen, I hooked up with Dr. Eddie Bernard—one of the world’s leading authorities on tsunamis and a guest “star” on numerous tsunami documentaries, some of which occasionally run on the Discovery Channel. Between his wealth of tsunami knowledge and my plodding creativity, we worked out a scenario by which this could really happen. Just because we don’t get tsunamis on the East Coast doesn’t mean we
can’t
. However, those of you who bother to do a little research of your own may soon realize that the science and the logistics presented here do not add up—that’s because the conscious decision was made to underwrite these sections so, in a worst-case scenario, this otherwise innocent story didn’t become a handbook for terrorists. In other words, if you compared it to directions on how to hot-wire a car, I left out steps two, six, and nine. But my God’how
easy
it would be.
Finally, I’d like to express a hope that, perhaps in some way, this little story provides food for thought to the civic leaders of relatively vulnerable seaside communities like Long Beach Island. It is far too easy to allow ourselves to be lulled into a false sense of “that-could-never-happen-to-us” security, much like the one that had numbed America prior to 9/11. I hope this story will support our already heightened vigilance toward the manifold dangers that infect our world—dangers that are not always the product of nature’s wrath, but of humankind’s too-frequent wrath toward itself. If the story makes just one person think a little harder about the “always be prepared” philosophy, then the effort put forth to write it cannot have been wasted.
