The Pulse: A Novel of Surviving the Collapse of the Grid by Scott B. Williams Page B

barrage of questions about where they had come from, what they had seen, and what they might know of what was happening in the world beyond the harbor. When they reached the ferry dock near the government offices, Artie lost no time clambering up the ladder as Larry tied them off.
    “Land!” Artie said. “At one point a couple of days ago, I swore I’d kiss it if I ever set foot on it again.”
    “So go for it!” Larry said. “I’ve been waiting to see this.”
    “What’s the point? At that time I thought I’d never have to get on a boat again if I ever got here. Now, this is just a temporary stop. I guess I shouldn’t get too excited about it or get too used to it.”
    “Probably not, I don’t want to waste any time here; this place is gonna turn to shit in another day or two. It’s bad enough in normal times with all the cruise ship tourons and gangs of punk-assed dreads.”
    As Larry suspected, they found the customs and immigration offices closed. Artie followed as Larry led the way back east along the waterfront to the Yacht Haven Marina and Hotel complex to see if the owner of Ibis had arrived before the pulse hit. If he had, he would be stranded among the thousands of other tourists stuck there in miserable conditions in hotels without lights or air conditioning. If not, it was certain that he wouldn’t be coming to the island until after power and communications were restored, and who knew how long that would be?
    They found the hotel lobby full of frustrated guests unsure of what to do next, many of them killing time while they waited by drinking warm beer or the local Cruzan rum. The clerk behind the desk could not look for the name Larry gave him because all guest information from before the power outage was in their computer registry system. They went to the marina office and no one there remembered anyone asking about a yacht named Ibis. Larry said that most likely the owner was not on the island. There was nothing else to do but leave the yacht on the mooring as he had contracted to do, and hope that eventually her owner would be able to get to St. Thomas to claim her—if someone didn’t steal her first. But they had to get to Culebra, as there was a lot of work to do to get Larry’s boat and make it ready for the passage to New Orleans.
    “I guess we’ll have to sail over there on Ibis and then sail both boats back here so we can leave her once we get Alegria shipshape,” Larry said, when Artie asked how they were going to get to Culebra.
    “That’s going to take a lot of extra time, isn’t it—coming all the way back over here?”
    “We’ll lose most of a day doing it, but it won’t make much difference in the end. What else can we do? Besides, my cat is a lot faster than Ibis. We’ll have the trade winds in our favor once we leave here for good, and we’ll make a fast passage to Florida. You’ll see.”
    They left the exclusive Yacht Haven complex and Artie followed his brother to a seedier part of the waterfront, where they found his favorite bar still open for business, despite the lack of power. Larry was well acquainted with the owner from his many stops in the harbor taking yachts up and down the island chain.
    “We’re open until we run out,” the man said. “At the rate people have been drinking since yesterday, that won’t be much longer. What are you two having?”
    “Nothing,” Larry said. “It’s way too early for me. We’re getting out of here real soon, I hope. I just had to make a quick check and be sure my client wasn’t here.”
    “Brought another boat in, huh?”
    “Yeah, a pretty sweet little wooden schooner—new custom build and all that. Too bad the owner probably won’t get to see her any time soon.”
    “If he wasn’t on the island before five minutes after ten yesterday, he won’t. Man, this is one bizarre scene. Nobody knows the extent of it. There’s just no way to get any news. We don’t know if anybody’s coming to help us get