John opened his eyes with a start.

The dogs were all barking. All of them. The whole neighborhood seemed suddenly an animal shelter. He looked the clock radio. 3:14am.

That's weird he thought and then rolled over and went back to sleep.

When the alarm went off at 6am he was awake and on his way to the bathroom to take his morning shower when he stopped in his tracks. Some idiot was laying on their car horn and shouting out in the street. He backtracked his steps and parted the blinds to peek out. The road, usually empty at that hour was full of his neighbors hastily loading cars, hitching all manner of items on roof racks, arguing and running back and forth like angry fire ants.

The scene entranced him at first as he tried to recall whether there was some big holiday he'd missed out on. He scanned up and down the street - no smoke, no sirens in the distance. Other than the feverish packing everything seemed normal. The hairs on his neck began to stand up. He heard a distinct word from the general pandemonium come echoing up the street. "Tsunami". It was his neighbor Harold J. Jackson, an old retired Army chef who barked to his wife. "For God's sake Margaret we've gotta get to higher ground before the Tsunami hits, it'll wipe this place off the map".

John's heart skipped a beat. High ground.... his home sat at precisely 26 feet above sea level, some 3 miles from the Atlantic. A brackish marsh lay just 600 yards to the East. High tides put water about 25 feet below his front door. The coastal empire only had a few spots above 50 feet and some of these included highway overpasses. It was otherwise flat for dozens of miles inland and few roads ran perpendicular to the coast line.

In an instant of mental calculation he resolved not to run away from the impending wave, but grab only what he could carry and run to the shore and find a boat, any boat, to race out to sea. To sea - that was his only hope.

In an emergency situation time begins to slow as the mind races towards a priority of self preservation. Odd things pop into one's mind and odd regrets occur that might rob you of precious seconds. Furrowing his brow, he jumped into clothes and wheeling about looking for shoes, finally grabbed some old hiking boots. Next he grabbed his get home bag and hesitating slightly then looked for his brief case. Pouring its contents on the floor he scooped up his lap top, dumped in the contents of a firesafe full of passports, birth certificates, and other items into the case. Then locked it and set it down.

Perhaps 5 minutes went by when he suddenly realized that he didn't know when the wave was due. Running into the now half empty street he flagged down Mr. Jackson who did not break stride as he loaded another duffel bag into his overloaded Ford 250. "When is the wave gonna hit?" he shouted. Not looking up, the visibly shaken old man breathlessly barked back "Any time now - quake was at 3am, they say it should be arriving by 7". John didn't have either his watch on or his smart phone so stared for a second and then turning raced back inside.

10 minutes later, with his GHB and brief case jury rigged to it, he jumped into his Suburban and drove across the road and then between two homes making a bee line for the beach some 5 minutes away. His hope lay in a small Marina that was part of a gated community. Finally reaching the parking lot after running through some empty lots, over some shrubs and through a few wooden fences, he was at first dismayed - none of the Yachts were in their moorings. Then he spotted a small speed boat with a 150 hp motor and two elderly people fumbling with the mooring lines. He parked and jumped out and ran over. "May I help you with that, I think we've both got the right idea". The man looked up - a forlorn, despairing look in his eye but an otherwise agreeable face. "Who're you?" The man had an old fanny pack on and his hands fumbled with it. "hey, look, my name is John Henderson, I live over on Ridgeview court and I hear the waves will arrive in about 20 minutes. This is no time to argue, I'll help you get this thing to the sea before the wave hits."

Five agonizing minutes later with his bags in the bow along with some extra gear from the suburban, John's spirits balanced between shock and hope as his savior, the owner of the craft sat amidships with a small .38 revolver pointed at his head with amazingly steady hands as his wife sat weeping silently next to him.

"I'm mighty obliged to you, sir." fumbled John, as he steered as straight a course through the meandering inlets with the throttle wide open. The old man kept the snub pistol level and his eyes were wary. It made for an awkward journey. John's eyes scanned ahead, looking for the next channel marker. He was also looking for other boats and saw some but their owners were still busily hustling from home to dock with bags, duffel, gear and tackle. Only one, larger fishing boat was ahead of him but he wasn't gaining much on it. "Soon as we're through the worst I'll look to get aboard another vessel" offered John. The woman didn't seem able to speak but her eyes alternated between fear and longing as she looked into his. The man was silent. He had allowed John to help them launch the boat, and stood by his wife as John loaded his own bags into the speed boat. But as soon as they were cast off the dock and John settled into the pilot seat, the man had produced the pistol and sternly warned him that any false moves would be his last.

"Thank God it's a calm day" John had just been thinking when he looked at the horizon and then looked again. Storm clouds to the south were closing in - it would be rain. But the worst sight of his life was spreading across the whole horizon. One long line of white from North to South. The white water of a single enormous wave plowing into the shallows, sweeping everything before it.

John kept the fishing boat in sight. He was about 500 yards behind them. They were still half a mile from open water. Only a few bends were left before the sea. His heart dropped. They wouldn't make it. They were maybe 5 minutes late. The wave looked easily 30-40 feet high or higher. Again, tunnel visioned ,John looked around, desperate for alternatives. He realized he had not put on his life vest. As methodically as he could he shifted position and said in as calm a voice as he could "For got to put on my vest". And without looking at the barrel he stood slowly, lifted a seat and pulled out one of the vests and put it on. Turning he looked into the old man's eyes. "We're not gonna make it are we?" The old man had tears in his eyes but they weren't the eyes of despair as much as anger and frustration.

"No, we'll-" Bullshit! The old man's voice crackled like thunder covering John's white lie. The pistol was lowered and then put away. John saw the fishing boat tip, plunge, and then capsize into the on rushing foam. Mortality was upon them.

What does one say in one's last minute on earth? What prayer, what heroic last words does one say to the wind, to any witnesses, to God or oneself when it looks that death will engulf the world?

The tentacles of regret, sorrow, frustration and longing slid up his spine, threatening to overpower his mind and heart. A muffled cry broke from the old woman's throat.

John slowed the boat and considered turning her around and running ahead of the wave rather than attempt to punch through or over it. He saw men in the water briefly, for an instant, and part of the overturned hull of the fishing boat. Again, his eyes scanned for - a side inlet behind a barrier island - a clump of trees. Swinging the wheel and gunning the motor he ran the open speed boat at full speed behind the small wooded island with a wild idea forming in his mind.

"Fool!" broke the old man to which John, mouth dry, replied "Mooring, tie down to a tree top". Then the wave hit the sea ward side of the island and all was a chaos of foam, noise, fury as flotsam and jetsam, and odd things appearing and disappearing in the frothy water came and went.

The wood broke the even line of the waters and in the churn, John realized his brilliant last ditch idea was indeed foolish. It was coming too swiftly, too much was happening at once - the trees were being uprooted. In a panic the old man rose to take over, but as he did the first crest hit the boat broadside and everything tipped. John took in the scene in a horrified blur. Old woman and old man were ejected in an instant as the boat tipped into a draw and crashed against some object. John had half risen, haft leaned to get out of the man's way and grab a rope - he too fell out but then pulled himself back into the half filled boat. Engine sputtering he hit the throttle and fought for control, wildly gripped the wheel as the boat plunged and jerked, tipped and righted itself. A minute later the enormity of the couple's disappearance hit him and he began to weep hysterically as he continued to fight for control.

A long while later it occurred to him to put on the running lights as the sun had set and he no longer recognized any landmarks. The ebb and flow had repeated itself several times and he was reasonably sure he had been swept out to sea and north. There were ocean going ships further out to sea but miles away.

He was cold and tired and his every muscle ached. But the vision of the elderly couple ejected by the sea kept replaying in his imagination. "I never even got their names..." He'd be saved (so far) by the providential couple who took him on under the duress of the crisis but probably wouldn't have otherwise. He'd been threatened with instant death for any false move. But he missed them tremendously and wept for the mute woman, her agonizing cry muffled by the water in mid-shriek replaying over and over in his mind.

Who were they?

Suddenly he remembered his bags stowed in the bows under the seats and it occurred to him that the couple also had some bags stowed in the rear. Rising stiffly he opened one bench and saw a dry bag. He unzipped one pocket and stared at bundles of $100 bills and the glint of golden coins. "Who were those people?" he asked outloud to no one but the wind.

Good start.  I like it.

A great read so far.

Keep going....