Book 2: Chapter 102: Aftermath (1/2)
Dan dropped back into existence in Roosevelt harbor on the northeastern side of the island. It was less than ten miles away from the Summers' estate and directly connected to the highway that wrapped around the tiny island. He glanced around the harbor but quickly realized he'd beaten the Coldwater convoy here, as promised.
It was a small harbor, mostly for civilian use. There were a few families milling about the piers, but Dan noticed that they were almost ubiquitously staring at their phones. A few screaming children ran around their parents ankles, siblings arguing or baby's crying, but the adults' eyes were glued to the screens in their hands. Dan noted that as strange, but his attention turned to the southern horizon.
Huge plumes of dust rose above the tree line, drifting away from the island. It was like a sideways mushroom cloud, like a volcano had erupted horizontally. Clouds of dirt darkened the sky. Dan watched distant trees sway, then bend violently in his direction, leaves scattering to the wind. He watched the shockwave approach with numb awe, then wash over him with the noise of an artillery barrage.
Boom!
His ears rang and people screamed. Wind buffeted his body hard enough to stagger him and the ground quaked. The few boats in the harbor rocked violently back and forth on a suddenly churning ocean. A baby started to cry and several adults sprinted for cover. And then it was over. No follow up, no rain of debris, no apocalyptic aftershocks. Cannibal had been in front of the ocean, so Dan hadn't bothered holding back. The blast had been directed horizontally and up, angled about forty-five degrees towards the water. With any luck, he'd blasted the serial killer into high orbit. Failing that, Cannibal should be taking a very unpleasant dip in the Florida Straits.
Dan wondered, a little hysterically, if the vicious Natural had landed in Havana.
He blinked skyward, high above the Summers' property. The day had started clear, but Dan's pocket nuke had belched up a cloud of dust that was quickly drifting upwards. He was careful to avoid it, appearing near the entrance of the property and looking for—
The property was gone. Cratered. Obliterated. The air was thick with debris but from what he could see there was no more Summers' mansion, no more Summers' forest, and no more Summers' land. It was like he'd chipped off an entire section of the island, down to the very bedrock. There was a clear starting point of the devastation, and everything after that point abruptly terminated into chunks of dirt and encroaching water. The ocean had reclaimed the earth. The waters were muddy and roiling, There was no sight of Cannibal. There was no sight of anything.
He had... probably killed Abby's swans. That wasn't what he'd—
No. Don't dwell on it.
He hoped it had been quick.
Dan blinked back to the harbor before he could fall to his death. He landed, fists clenched, any sense of accomplishment thoroughly soured. He carefully examined the closest buildings for broken glass and was glad to not find any. He doubted many windows were spared closer to the blast, but it had been angled away from civilization. That ought to be enough. He could only hope at this point. The Summers' property was enormous and isolated. It had taken the brunt of the damage, and Anastasia could afford it.
The interstate highway was all but empty, so Dan was easily able to spot the Coldwater convoy as it came roaring into view. The armored vehicles were masterfully disguised as unassuming sedans and SUVs, but any subtlety they might have had was spoiled by the large Coldwater logos emblazoned on the side paneling. Seven cars long, the convoy squealed to a stop outside the harbor and Abby's tall form leapt out of the center vehicle.
Dan blinked beside her and she tackled him in a hug the instant he appeared.
”What happened!?” she demanded. ”We all felt the explosion!”
Her family started to unload, somehow still bickering with each other. Dan winced at Abby's earnest concern.
”I blew up your house,” he admitted.
”You what!?” Jason Summers exclaimed from somewhere in the back.
Abby ignored him. ”We can buy a new one. What happened to Cannibal?”
”No idea.” Dan shrugged helplessly. He pointed south. ”I directed the explosion that way. Might have killed him. Definitely pissed him off. I'm guessing he was thrown very far away. I suggest we get the hell out of here before he comes back.”
The Summers family had a yacht. This did not surprise Dan at all. It was large enough for the entire extended family, their guards, and all the service staff. He didn't know much about yachts, but it was probably a good one. He assumed that there were Gatling guns hidden somewhere on the thing. The Coldwater mercenaries loaded their charges up onto the waiting yacht, and one of the soldiers took over as the pilot.
Dan watched the procession with impatience, Abby latched onto him like a leech, while his veil swept the water. Some part of him was still buzzing with paranoia, half-expecting Cannibal to erupt from the ocean like a pissed off mermaid. The rest of him was worried about the catastrophic property damage he'd inflicted, and the consequences that would follow. He hadn't actually looked at the results on the rest of the island, nor was he sure he wanted too. It got him thinking, though.
Dan turned to the Coldwater commander. ”How long until Anastasia arrives?”
The commander pursed his lips. ”Soon, I hope.”
”Should we... wait for her?”
A considering pause, then, ”I think not. At this point I believe my charges will be safer on the open sea.” He gave Dan a long look. ”Assuming the mansion is, indeed, destroyed.”