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motorcycles appeared as we were bringing the inflatable back on deck. Again we kids were hustled below decks, this time to the sounds of gunfire.
     
    Dad backed the Goose away from shore while our assault rifles returned fire and forced the thugs to take cover. We sailed back down toward Sacramento.
     
    Doc had a car GPS that he fired up, and used it to anchor over the Capital Building. The sonar painted a picture of a pile of rubble. Dad unpacked the little submersible ROV, and it relayed a TV picture, which indicated much of downtown, had been heavily damaged in the earthquakes that proceeded the flooding. April Hall watched in silence, and then fled the bridge. Her sister, Allison Jacobs followed and Doc commented. “He’s gone.”
     
    The next morning we started searching for a safe refuge to make a land base. A week later, up the Sacramento River, we found an isolated island that the map called Sutters Butte.  We sailed all the way around it, and found a cliff on the West Side, that made a natural wharf. Dad maneuvered the Goose up to it, and we tied up to a couple of big trees.
     
    The island was seven miles long and ten miles wide. There were five abandoned summer homes scattered along it and a large meadow that became our communal garden site. Doc took the larger home, and it was designated as the Medical Center. Dad and I stayed living on the Goose, to keep an eye on things like keeping the bilge pumped. The other three families set up housekeeping in the other homes, and the first garden was planted.
     
    After all the supplies were unloaded, We started doing some salvage and trading trips. We towed several floating cargo containers back to the island. One was full of new bikes and another had 4 new garden tractors and accessories. Others were useless, big screen TV’s, purses, electronics, and other junk. A container full of designer blue jeans and another of camping gear added to the trading booty.
     
    We stopped at several places around the shores of the Inland Sea, where we found survivors. We mostly traded for food items, including live chickens, pygmy goats and rabbits. We also gave refuge to a few families with useful skills, including an ER Nurse, a machinist, a farmer, and a crewman from a tugboat. He said that the tug and a fuel barge it was towing had been abandoned in the delta when the water receded. He had a dirt bike on board and had used it to get to high ground.
     
    The next trip we went looking for the tug and found it and the barge east of Stockton. It took a week of hard work, but we were able to get them both re-floated and the tug operational.
     
     

Chapter 8
     
     
    The path down the mountain was treacherous and muddy. The creek was down quite a bit, but David had to work his downstream almost a mile before he found a safe place to ford. It was almost nightfall when he reached the point where he left his truck. The wind had rolled it down the side of the hill. The shell over the bed was partially crushed, but it was mostly dry, and David was able to sleep dry that night.
     
    The next morning David started working his way down the mountain, mostly following the fire road he had taken on the way up. When it joined the highway, he continued west. By that afternoon he reached the junction where his friends plan to stay at the Creekside Motel.
     
    There was nothing left but the foundations. During the Event the creek had become a raging river, and washed it all away. He hoped that they had not stopped there, but a mile downstream he saw Jason’s crumpled truck wedged against the hillside. He checked inside the cab, but their stuff was not there. Deep down he knew that they had not survived.
     
    The next afternoon he reached the Big Thunder Indian Casino. The two-story building was mostly intact. There were fresh tire tracks in the sand that covered the parking lot, but no vehicle was in sight. At the entrance he called out, but heard no reply. When he entered, a sickly sweet smell