The Perseid Collapse Read Online Free PDF

condition conducive to lightning. He lay there for a few moments.
    More nightmares? Shit. Back to counseling.
    He took a deep breath and gave the zipper another try. When it didn’t move, he tore it open.
    “Problem fucking solved,” he muttered, slipping out of the bag and kicking it aft.
    He stood up on the cockpit bench and squinted.
    What the hell?
    Either the sun had risen in the wrong place, or the fall from the hammock had knocked him silly. Alex had spent enough time at anchor in this cove to orient himself without a compass. He scanned his surroundings one more time to be sure .
    His boat pointed southeast, pulling lazily against the anchor line. A typical early morning setup at Jewell Island. The cove’s narrow opening lay directly off the port side, and the Katelyn Ann faced directly into a tree-lined, rocky cliff. The sun always rose over that cliff, but today it appeared due south, hidden behind the tallest part of the island. He watched as the distant light rapidly faded to reveal something more ominous.
    A brilliant, undulating reddish glow appeared in the southwestern sky, high above the visible horizon. He closed his eyes and shook his head, seriously wondering if he might have a head injury. Nothing he had felt or seen since opening his eyes this morning seemed normal. Of course, he assumed it was still morning.
    He checked his watch: 5:01 AM. Sunrise was at 5:50. Morning Nautical Twilight began twenty minutes ago. He looked over his shoulder toward the east and could see a slight difference between the blackness above and the sky showing between the trees. The sun was rising where it should.
    That’s a good start .
    He turned back to the surreal lightshow to the west. The reddish-purple spectacle changed shape and appeared to pulse over the entire southwest horizon. He’d seen this before. He shook his head.
    “No way,” he said, knowing there was only one way to find out.
    Alex stepped aft, positioning himself behind the wheel where he could see the boat’s magnetic compass dial. He pressed a button on the center console to illuminate the compass, and pressed it again.
    Shit.
    He took a small LED flashlight out of his pocket and jabbed at the on/off control. A shaky light bathed the compass, bringing the nightmare to life. The compass direction moved slowly from the direction of the fading, red aurora toward what he knew to be the right cardinal settings.
    Not good at all.
    He fumbled to activate the digital chart plotter and navigation system mounted above the wheel. Nothing. He thought about calling out to Kate, but reached for the engine ignition panel instead. He turned the key, not sure what would happen. The engine sputtered for a moment and started.
    “All right. All right. That’s a good sign,” he mumbled.
    The forty-horsepower Yanmar diesel engine hummed, vibrating the cockpit and shattering the cove’s tranquility. He pulled the kill lever, secure in the knowledge that they could reach the Portland Harbor without getting wet.
    A light from the forward berth illuminated the cabin, flickering back and forth as the source drew closer to the cabin door. He stepped forward in the tight cockpit to intercept Kate at the screen door. Woken by the unexpected engine start, she would no doubt be in a hurry to investigate. The door slid open just as he arrived.
    “Why did you start—”
    “Shhhh,” he said, putting a hand out to stop her. “Let’s talk out here.”
    “Did we slip anchor?” she asked, shining the light in his face.
    “Not in my face, please. We’re right where we should—”
    “Something is wrong with the lights.”
    She was in rapid-fire mode, no doubt brought on by her sudden maritime wake up. Kate was a notoriously deep sleeper at home, who did not respond well to being jarred awake. On the boat she was an entirely different person. She understood the fluid nature of boating, which required quick decisions and immediate action. Boats slipped anchorages, storms