by Danny, Chewy Walrus, Captain Sammitch and thedoctor
"Good afternoon, and welcome back to Action News Live. I'm Mike Curtis, here at one of the many beaches scattered across the scenic coastline of La Perdita. Normally, this would be a pristine sight, and a popular tourist destination. But now, rain and strong winds assault the La Perditan coastline, the cause of which is Hurricane Jason, a fierce storm building in the air over the Pacific Ocean and threatening to reach this tiny island nation.
"Our meteorologists predict that La Perdita will be under attack from the storm within a day, possibly less. This reporter advises all residents to stay in their homes and take the proper precautions. If you have shelters, prepare them now, because tomorrow... the worst will be upon us."
"We're screwed..."
Grissom Montag sat on a stool, staring at a black-and-white portable television screen perched on his makeshift workbench, made up of a kitchen table, an end table, and a nightstand all pushed together and against the wall. The Brit, working in a white wife-beater undershirt and his usual khaki shorts, sat examining a small makeshift barometer that he'd hastily constructed from a test tube, an empty petri dish, and the mercury from a few broken old thermometers that he'd found lying around the apartment building.
And he didn't like what he was seeing.
According to the reading he was getting from his little homemade device, the air pressure around La Perdita was low... very low. And that meant that they were in serious trouble.
Picking up his cell phone, he quickly fumbled in his pocket for the business card that Dr. Henry Quantos had given him when he'd been accepted to join MBL Consulting. Punching in Quantos' digits in quickly, Grissom pressed the receiver to his ear and waited for the doctor to pick up.
"Hello?"
"Doc?" Grissom asked as the doctor's voice echoed on his end. "It's Grissom..."
"Right," Quantos said, as if trying to recall who was calling him. "Mr. Montag... how can I help you?"
"I need some scientific advising up here, Doc," Grissom said quickly into the phone, never taking his eyes from the reading on his barometer. "Bring any help you can..."
Five minutes later, Dr. Henry Quantos, Kristofer Schanz, Kit Piper, and Grissom Montag all sat looking over the homemade barometer. Montag had already been introduced to Piper and Schanz, as well as the team.
"Crude," Schanz said, regarding the device, "but effective."
"Thanks, mate," Grissom said, shooting Chance a sidelong glare. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"I don't understand," Quantos said. "I know what this means, but why do you need my advising here? It seems like you have things pretty much figured out here, Mr. Montag."
"Well, look at this," Montag said, pulling open the top of his laptop to reveal a radar screen with La Perdita situated in the center. Pressing a few buttons, the screen panned out, revealing a tiny dot in the center -- La Perdita -- with a massive wall of red approaching from the east.
"Good Lord!" Quantos said, looking at Griss' screen. "Is that the storm?"
"Well beyond storm by this point, Doc," Griss said, taking a swig of the coffee that sat next to his work station. "We're at full-blown hurricane..."
"Where did you get access to a Doppler radar system like this, Montag?" Chance asked, furrowing his brow as he looked at the approaching wall that was Hurricane Jason. "I don't see meteorological equipment around here, save that archaic barometer."
"Let's just say that the equipment I don't have, I know how to access if I need it, all right?" Grissom said, not necessarily comfortable with Kristofer's line of questioning. "All that matters is that we're dealing with something here that makes an F5 tornado look like a sneeze. I need some answers, gentlemen."
"Quit being dramatic, Montag," Chance said, leaning on Griss' workbench. "We should be fine if we just get down to the basement cellar here."
"Well, all I know is, I haven't had the right time to fortify this building yet... and my assistant hasn't arrived yet," Grissom said.
"Your assistant?" Kit piped up, having been quiet for the entirety of the conversation thus far. "You never said anything about an assistant."
"Look, no worries, all right?" Grissom sighed, rolling his eyes. "Charley's in my employ, answers to me and me only... s'only a maintenance man, s'all."
"All right," Kit said begrudgingly, "but only if that's all."
"At any rate," Grissom said, rolling his eyes, "we need to do something about this rather quickly... or we can pretty much bend over and kiss our heineys bon voyage..."
"Don't worry," Quantos said, eyeing the radar. "I'm sure we'll think of something."
"The only problem with being on an island," Phil Smith told himself as he fumbled with his key, "is that there's nowhere to go when something like this comes." He finally unlocked the door to his room and headed in, only to be astounded by what he saw.
The tiny black-and-white TV he had found in a broom closet earlier was gone, replaced by a forty-inch flat screen set, DVD player, and massive speakers. Phil walked over. There was a note beneath the remote control.
Phil,
Hope you're enjoying your stay. This might help you enjoy it a bit more. But don't forget to get out more often!
-- A friend
Curious, Phil inspected the entertainment center a little more closely, but couldn't find anything that might hint at its origins. Oh, well. It's the thought that counts.
Phil turned on the TV to the Weather Channel, the requisite warnings about Jason, force four storm, blah blah blah, headed directly for La Perdita, blah blah blah. Phil was a bit surprised at himself for not being a little more concerned, but he had a pretty good idea of the structural integrity of the building he was in, and besides that, he was far enough inland that whatever got washed ashore probably wouldn't put too big a dent in his level of the building. He wasn't holding out much hope for anything on the beach, though.
There's gonna be a lot of cleanup when this is all over, Phil thought to himself. I just hope there won't be an awful lot of people caught in this thing.
Dirk Bell woke up. He had slept late again. That was so unlike him. The first thing he did was to remove the cast from his leg. It felt fine. As a matter of fact, it felt better than it ever did. It looked like his little present worked after all.
As he showered, the howling of the wind outside became louder and stronger. The sky was still black, and rain bombarded the island. He dressed and geared up. A little rain wasn't going to keep the bad guys at home.
As he came downstairs, many of the other team members were watching the TV.
"This is John Gonzales with an urgent update. Hurricane Jason has just been upgraded to a Category 3 storm. With more on that story, Mike Curtis."
"Thanks, John. This storm has really played havoc in the Caribbean as of late. It was supposed to miss any land by miles, but within the past few hours, that has drastically changed. Winds from the south changed the storm's direction, and the warm water built its intensity until it finally became a hurricane. It is still uncertain whether it will actually make landfall, but it will come close enough to La Perdita to cause severe damage.
"As you can see on the beach behind me, the waves are already cresting at about eight feet. As the hurricane approaches, the waves will grow to anywhere between fifteen and twenty-five feet, winds will exceed fifty miles per hour, and rain will fall by the bucket loads. All harbors and airports have been closed. Residents are asked to seek the nearest shelters and to get inside before the storm hits. Back to you, John."
"Looks like things are going to get messy," Danny Hearn said. Grimm just sat silently.
"Are we prepared for this?" Shirley Francis asked.
"I AM," M'xy said as a raincoat appeared on his body and an umbrella with a white-and-black cow-skin pattern materialized in his hand.
"From what I've seen," Dirk said as he lit his cigar, "this place isn't prepared for Jack shit." As he began to walk back up to his room, he passed Phil, who was coming down to share the news that he had received from his new TV.
As the gunslinger passed, without giving the stranger a second look, Phil's head began to ache. Dirk was already gone when the pain became too much for him. Phil let out a scream as he fell to his knees. Danny jumped over the couch and was the first to reach him. Grimm was right behind.
"Hey, mate," Danny said. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know," Phil replied. "It's just... There was so much... too much. It was all at once. I just couldn't handle it."
"Too much what?" Grimm asked.
"I don't know. It all happened too fast. It's all a jumble. All I remember clearly is that it felt like there was a great weight thrust upon me. And that it was all very tragic."
Grimm stared up the stairs. As if to himself, where no one else could hear, he muttered, "I've felt the same thing from him."