Ragnarok by Michael Smorenburg

Author:Michael Smorenburg [Smorenburg, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: A Novella / Adventure / Thriller
ISBN: 9780620722636
Publisher: Qunard Publishing
Published: 2017-10-31T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Cottage, Kingman’s Cove Road,

Fermeuse, Newfoundland

Latitude: 46°57'52.00"N

Longitude: 52°48'21"W

Tegan had almost missed the news report. Were it not that her dad was out there somewhere on the Grand Banks aboard a charter boat, heightening her sensitivity to nautical disasters, the story would have been lost to her in the clutter of bedlam that had become every news summary.

“The only survivor of the boating accident found seven miles northeast of Biscayan Cove off Newfoundland’s rugged peninsula remains in a coma, in critical condition in the ICU, suffering severe burns over sixty percent of his body. It is understood that the three local anglers knew the coast extremely well and would typically be back at the slipway by noon. When they had not returned just before dusk and could not be raised on VHF, the Coast Guard was summoned and an aerial grid search was implemented at their last known location ten nautical miles to the west of St. Johns.”

“Mom!” Tegan yelled, irritated that the TV offered no ‘pause’ or rewind function.

The panic in Tegan’s voice brought Gaby at a run.

“What’s it?” Gaby gasped, looking Tegan over for any obvious injury.

“A boat accident!” Tegan pointed to the TV.

“Oh b’Jesus girl, y’a gave me the fright of me life,” she looked and sounded peeved. “You have t’a stop being so dramatic, Teegs. I saw this earlier. Accidents happen.”

“Where’s Dad?”

“Not on an inflatable,” the last syllable of the last word rising in that quaint Irish manner of understatement. “These lads had’a fire aboard or somet’in. It happens.”

Gaby shrugged with the pragmatism of a shore wife with many a decade of genuine worry under her belt.

The Station Commander being interviewed had been the first on scene. He was explaining how the explosion that had brought in the first reports, had ripped the boat to pieces.

The camera was showing the carnage of blood and ripped hull. The black Mercury engine casing was smashed open and the fuel line severed.

“It seems the lads might have had some kind of accident aboard, eh,” he speculated in his gentle Canadian lilt. “The fuel line seems t’ have been clean cut, possibly leading to the fire. We’re gathering what evidence we can, what evidence was not destroyed by the fire.”

“And the surviving man?” The interviewer pressed for any feedback.

“I’m afraid we’re not in a position to discuss more than has been released until all the next of kin of the three men have been notified.”

“We understand that a third man could not be accounted for?”

“As I said, we cannot go into any detail until all next of kin have been notified,” the spokesman hedged.

“And reports that the deceased man has suffered severe lacerations and other wounds consistent with a dispute?”

“The men were all related and lifelong friends, eh, with no history of violence. We must wait for autopsy results.”

“And the man in intensive care? Can you tell our viewers how he is progressing?”

“I’m sorry, that is a question for the doctors.”

The camera cut back to studio.

“In other news…”

“Where is Dad?”

“He’s safe luv,” Gaby assured.

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