The Coral Island Project (a short story)

The Coral Island Project

The USS Oceanus, an aircraft carrier, cut through the Gulf Stream on a southerly course, passing east of Coral Island.

The white chalky ridge of the island slipped up out of the sea like the back of a giant sea serpent. Houses on the ridge stepped down like flat, scaly humps, each in a different color: from the red house on top of the ridge down to the violet house at the beach. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet: like a coral reef on top of the water. The island was devoid of vegetation, save for a few bushes and palm trees planted by the homeowners.

At the highest point of the ridge and at three stories tall, Bill and Angie’s house was the envy of all their neighbors. The entire flat top roof of their red stucco manor was a luxurious patio that was furnished with dark walnut, Moroccan wicker lounge chairs and a wet bar. Glass-paneled railings provided an unobstructed view of the ocean and the stunning sunrises and sunsets which were commonplace.

“Lobster, steak, fine wine and Single Malt Scotch – Angie, you and Bill really know how to entertain.”

“Why thank you, Roy. We aim to please. We're so glad you and Donna were able to come out,” Angie replied.

“Bill, I was just commenting to your wife about this impressive spread.”

“Nothing is too good for our friends. It was such a fortunate turn of events, how your business trip out west was canceled at the last minute,” Bill said.

“It sure was. Donna and I would have been sitting on an airplane instead of standing here enjoying this amazing view. Do you ever get tired of these sunsets?”

“What do you think? I love the way the orange glow gradually fades to indigo and then to black as you follow the sky from the horizon back overhead to the east. This is my favorite time of day.”

“I see what you mean. It’s breathtaking.” Roy craned his head backward.

“If you think this is special, wait until the sun goes down. Since there is virtually no man-made light out here, you can see so many stars, you’d swear you were floating above the earth.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And tonight will be a perfect night; there are no clouds and the humidity is low.”

“I can’t wait.”

“When it gets dark, just grab a drink, kick back in one of the lounge chairs and gaze up at the stars. Most nights we’re treated to a few shooting stars as well. I usually fall asleep in my chair and wake to the sunrise.”

They clinked their glasses together in a toast to their posh life.

Viewed from the heavens, Coral Island looked like a white teardrop, ringed in green, in a great blue expanse. Just north of Bill and Angie’s villa, and a little closer down to earth, Tom and Rita’s orange house occupied a small patch of land on the little sand bar that poked out of the ocean, providing a place for a few lucky souls to inhabit the tropical paradise. Not quite the statuesque manor it stood next to, Tom and Rita’s home was impressive in its own right. Capped by a terra cotta tile roof, the three-story abode boasted wide balconies on all four sides.

“Rita, why don’t you open the balcony doors? It’s such a nice evening; the breeze can just blow right through the house.”

“I’m way ahead of you, baby. They’re already open.”

She sat down in Tom’s lap and began kissing him.

“To what do I owe this pleasure? The salt air? The wine?”

“Nothing like that. I just love you and want to show it.”

“I think we better turn the lights out first. I can see Bill and Angie’s roof from here, and they have guests tonight.”

Coral Island rose up smoothly from the sea, as did the houses which were built there. As one approached from the north, the homes seemed to be stacked, one upon another. It looked like a piece of rainbow colored candy, red at the top and violet at the bottom, with all the colors of the spectrum in between. The red and orange stripes were thicker than the rest. Beneath the orange stripe was a charming two-story yellow structure: the home of Russ and Dorothy. Beneath each window on the second floor hung a flower box, replete with colorful blooms that spilled over the edge like a polychromatic waterfall.

“Dorothy, where did you hide my glasses?” Russ bellowed.

“I didn’t hide them,” she snapped back. “Try looking on top of your head.”

His glasses were exactly where his wife said they’d be. Rather than a thank you, all he could manage was a gruff grunt.

“Dolt!” she muttered under her breath. “Russ, would it be too much to ask to actually put your dirty glass in the dishwasher?” she carped.

“That’s what I married you for,” he carped back.

After cleaning the kitchen and checking emails, Dorothy walked into Russ’ den.

“I just got off email. Billy and Susie send their love,” she said sweetly.

“Oh yeah, it’s good to hear from them,” he replied gently.

“I’m going to bed, dear.”

Russ stood up and embraced his wife. “Good night. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Coral Island sat on a shallow ridge, with the Gulf Stream on one side and the Straights of Serendipity on the other. The shallow waters around the island glowed emerald green, which is the color Pete and Robin, Russ and Dorothy’s neighbors, picked out for their island home: a modest two-story dwelling, without many of the luxuries of the homes up the hill. Pete and Robin had overextended themselves, but a second home on an island was something they wanted more than anything. They scrimped and saved for six months, forsaking movies and restaurants so they could afford to visit their island getaway. Two weeks in paradise.

“Would you like a second pork chop?”

“No thanks, Robin. Save it. I’ll have it for lunch tomorrow.”

“Isn’t it wonderful to finally get out to our house?”

“It sure is,” Pete replied as he kissed her on the back of the neck. Taking her by the hand, he said, “Why don’t you leave those dishes for later? I’ll do them when we get back. Let’s take a walk on the beach.”

“Ooh. That sounds so romantic.” She kissed him passionately.

An official hurricane warning had been issued as a precaution, although the projected path showed it tracking well to the northeast of Coral Island. The Weather Service was very reliable, and not a single hurricane had struck the island in thirty years, since before any of the homes were built, so no one took precautions.

Much in the same way the blue of the deeper waters contrasted with the green of the shallows around the island, Joe and Helen’s blue one-story cottage plunged below their neighbor’s green two-story home.

“Are you sure we don’t need to go to the mainland, or at least shutter the windows?” Helen said. She fidgeted nervously and paced back and forth.

“You heard the report. The hurricane isn’t supposed to come anywhere near us. They just included our island to cover their butts, in case it changes course.”

“I don’t know.”

“We’ll be fine. Come here.” Joe put his arms around his wife. What started as an embrace of encouragement turned into something else as Joe tenderly kissed her on the neck.

“I’m sorry, Honey. I don’t think so. I’m too worried about the hurricane.”

“I told you, we’ll be fine.” He gently pressed his lips against her neck again.

“Really, Joe. Not tonight.”

“It's always something!” He abruptly pushed away from her; his anger intensified with each passing moment.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“We never make love anymore, and you always give me some lame excuse.”

“But I’m really worried.”

He stormed off into the other room.

The Coast Guard cutter sliced through the calm waters of the Straights of Serendipity on its way in from patrol. As it passed by the familiar Coral Island, the lower two houses seemed to disappear in the late evening light. The second house up the ridge from the beach, Phil and Mary’s quaint, indigo cottage blended in to the twilight atmosphere and would have been invisible except for the flashes of light strobing out from the living room window.

“Will you just pick a channel and stay there,” Mary complained.

“It’s hard, there are so many good shows to pick from,” Phil said as he surfed from one station to another.

“Go back to the Weather Channel. I think they were covering the hurricane.”

“Forget that. I’m sure nothing has changed since the last time we watched it.”

“You never know. Hey, what was wrong with that?”

“Really? The Heart of a Woman?”

“It looks really good.”

“Unless a zombie rips her heart out of her chest and eats it, I don’t think so.”

“You used to be so romantic.”

“Here we go. A baseball game.”

Phil laid the remote down on the couch. Mary rolled her eyes and leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder.

Bill sipped his Scotch as he scanned the ridge and all the houses below him, fixing his gaze upon the violet cottage on the beach. There were lights on at all the houses except for the violet house, which seemed strange since he’d seen lights on there earlier. “Gone to bed early, I guess,” he mused. As he stood on top of his house enjoying the commanding view, Bill noticed a change in the weather. The wind, which had been a gentle breeze out of the southwest, shifted suddenly and dramatically and was now blowing steadily out of the east. He sat down on a lounge chair, took another sip of his Scotch, and reclined back to look at the stars.

“Captain, you need to take a look at this.”

“What is it, Chief?”

“The latest hourly weather report.”

The Captain looked at the Chief, who nodded his head and raised his eyebrows as if to say, ‘Yeah, you read that correctly.’

“Chief, get your crew, take the cutter and get as far south as you can. I’ll prepare the station for the hurricane.”

“Aye, Captain.”

The Captain secured everything on the dock while the crew of the cutter prepared to make way. As the stout ship disappeared into the night a small cabin cruiser pulled up to the station and a man jumped onto the dock to tie the boat off.

“Sir you can’t dock here, this is a Coast Guard station.”

“My wife and I and our child have nowhere to go. Are you going to turn us away with a hurricane bearing down?”

“Where are you coming from?”

“We were staying at a friends’ place on Coral Island.”

“The Weather Service wasn’t projecting the hurricane to come anywhere near the island. Why did you leave?”

“We were sitting on the beach earlier, enjoying the sunset, when both of us got this feeling in our gut that we should leave, that the hurricane was going to hit the island, despite what the Weather Service was saying.”

“You must have some special sense, or a connection with the man upstairs, because the hurricane took a sudden turn and picked up in intensity. It's heading straight for Coral Island. Well, it’s against regulations and I can’t guarantee your boat won’t be destroyed, but go ahead and tie off and come inside.”

“Thank you so much, sir.”

When the sun came up, the hurricane had cleared the area and the Coast Guard cutter returned to its station, or what was left of it. The building, made to withstand a Category Five storm, though heavily damaged, was still intact, but the dock was gone except for one-eight foot section, and there was a cabin cruiser, upside down, in the parking lot.

“Captain.” The radio crackled to life.

“Go ahead, Chief.”

“We’re back. You okay in there?”

“I’m fine. You better go check on those people on Coral Island. The hurricane went right over top of it. The Weather Service said they’d never seen a hurricane change course so quickly and dramatically.”

“Aye, Captain. Have you heard from anyone on the island?”

“Actually, I do have a family in here with me that was staying in the violet cottage on the beach. That’s their cabin cruiser in the parking lot. They showed up right as you left last night. Said something told them to head for the mainland.”

“I guess somebody was looking out for them.”

The Chief piloted the cutter through the Straights of Serendipity towards Coral Island, maneuvering through the debris in the water.

“Lieutenant, what was that?”

“I’m not sure, Chief, but it looked like a piece of wicker patio furniture to me.”

“Hey, that reminds me of a joke. What's Irish and stays out all night?”

“I don’t know, what?”

“Patty O’Furniture.”

“Funny, Chief, funny. According to the GPS we should be in range of Coral Island.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, sir. You should be able to see it.”

“Oh my God,” he said grimly.

“What is it, Chief?”

“I hope that GPS is broken.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because all I can see is a barren sand ridge. No houses. No signs of houses. Just a white hump.”

“Chief, slow it down, I think I see a body in the water,” the Lieutenant called out.

As he throttled back the engines the horror of what had happened dawned on him. Two more bodies, then several more. By the time they finished sweeping the area they had recovered fourteen bodies. Some were dressed in nice party clothes; some had pajamas on; two, a man and a woman, were naked. Although all the bodies were face down in the water, they were pulled on board one by one and checked for vitals, just in case someone was still alive. Everyone was dead.

“So, what do you make of this, Chief?”

“Well, it appears that when the hurricane went over the island it blew everything into the water: houses, people – everything. I don't know if the winds killed them, or if they drowned.”

“That's just awful.”

“Think about what it must have been like for those people.”

“That’s what I mean. So, what do we do now?”

“Not really much to do, except head back to the station.”

The dead calm was interrupted by the sound of helicopter blades beating powerfully overhead.

“What's that?”

“Looks like a Navy chopper, headed for the mainland.”

“What do you suppose it's doing here?”

“I have no idea.”

As he pointed the cutter west for the return trip to the Coast Guard station, the Chief looked back. The morning sun shone through a rain shower, a lingering remnant of the hurricane, casting a rainbow over Coral Island – or at least what was left of it.

In the Atlantic Ocean, about 100 miles southeast of Coral Island, the USS Oceanus continued in its elliptical holding course. Admiral Sare sat in his cabin poring over the data in the folders which were marked - Top Secret.

There was a knock at the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Commander Sherme.”

“Come in, Commander. Do we have all the data?”

“Yes, sir. It’s all there.”

“So what is the result of the test?”

“It was a complete success, sir.”

“We were able to control the hurricane?”

“Yes. We were able to speed it up, increase its intensity, turn it, and dictate its path.”

“And the target: Coral Island?”

“Completely obliterated, sir. There isn’t so much as a brick left on the island.”

“And the people? All dead?”

“Well, not all of them.”

“What are you talking about? How could anyone have survived?”

“There was a young couple, with a child, that was staying on the island. According to the Coast Guard Captain, something or someone told them to leave; that the hurricane was going to hit their island.”

“Do you think someone leaked information about the test?”

“No, sir. Our security is tight as a drum.”

“Well, how did they know the hurricane was going to hit the island?”

“I don't know; maybe they have some special gift – some kind of ESP or something.”

“We’ll need to bring them in for testing. We may be able to use this gift they have, or at least determine if our enemies might have the same gift and be able to anticipate our attacks.”

“I already sent a chopper to the Coast Guard station. They’re on the way.”

“Very good. As soon as they are on board, plot a course for Phase II.”

“Sir, you mean?”

“That's right. The Cuba Project.”