Calamcity
By Francis Bass
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About this ebook
In a not too distant future, beach erosion has accelerated dramatically due to rising sea levels and increased hurricane activity—but a new breed of bioengineered living shorelines appears to be a perfect solution to hold sand in place. To oversee a test-run of this technique, Joseph Lopez joins his brother Steve on Cape Dodd, a Floridian beach that has been battling erosion for years under Steve’s management. Joseph just wants to bring back the large, stable, sunny beaches of his youth, and provide a nice vacation house for his aging parents. But as Joseph and Steve find, Cape Dodd is in for a rough summer of constant hurricanes and mysterious mass die-offs of the living shoreline.
This publication also includes an afterword by the author, in which he describes the many ways his time growing up and living in Florida inspired this story.
Francis Bass
Francis Bass is a writer of science fiction and fantasy. His work has appeared in RECKONING, ELECTRIC LITERATURE, and others. He lives in Philadelphia.
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Calamcity - Francis Bass
Calamcity
Copyright © 2017 by Francis Bass
All rights reserved.
Title, subtitle, and byline font Kismet NF
by Nick Curtis
Cover photo sandcastle in front of the sea
courtesy of FreeImages.com / M B
Distributed by Smashwords.
Table of Contents
Calamcity
Afterword
Clumps of blackened, dead grass sloshed ashore on the waves like hair. The tangled, sandy detritus swarmed with tiny white flies, jumping in and off and around them.
So much for a living shoreline,
Joseph said.
Steve stared out at the churning gray ocean, washing in under an overcast sky. Let’s see what happened,
he said, gesturing up shore. He walked updrift along the beach, toward the living shoreline section of the cape, and Joseph followed. Steve navigated the ragged, confused shoreline, dotted with long tidal pools and areas of soupy quicksand with a careful, deliberate step, while Joseph repeatedly had to stop to pull his foot loose from the sand. He was wearing a battered, rotting old pair of trainers, so at least he wasn’t ruining his loafers.
The tide was neither low nor high when they reached the living shoreline, so just a bit of the garden was above water.
Roses are doing alright,
Steve said. The pale pink flowering plants had increased in number, not just dotting the area but covering it in big patches. Where you see bubbles are the worms,
Steve pointed to an area of the shore slick with water, where bubbles formed and popped in slow sputtering breath. There were a lot of them. Just the Ludwig grass that’s dying.
The Ludwig grass is the whole point,
Joseph said. Who cares about the flowers and worms if we can’t get the grass to stay put.
Steve nudged a small patch of the stuff with the toe of his boot. It looked sick and tired, a dark green, limp clump of grass.
Some of it survived,
Joseph said. This may be a matter of weeding out the weak grass from the strong. We’ll plant more of it, and see what survives after the next big storm.
Steve nodded. Let’s head back. Do you want to see anything else out here?
No. Yeah, let’s head back.
Rain was falling again, just a drizzle, as they drove along the main road of Cape Dodd, from the living shoreline test area to the coast undergoing more traditional beach nourishment. The road ran closer to the bay side, so they couldn’t see any of the dredges or pipelines, or any part of the beach. They’d stopped dredging the bay five years ago.
How is Rita?
Joseph asked.
Oh. Good. She got accepted to St. Petersburg. Going to have a psychology major.
Oh. Like Jennifer, huh?
Steve fiddled one-handed with the radio until something nasal and twangy was coming out at a low volume.
When is Rita visiting?
Joseph asked.
Sunday, she arrives. I don’t know when she leaves.
Will she stay the whole summer?
That’s how we normally do it.
Pine trees in sandy soil rushed past out the window, separated from the road by a low, muddy trench filled with rainwater from last night’s tropical storm.
That’ll be good,
Joseph said. I haven’t seen her in forever. She’s probably gotten a lot taller since then.
Yeah. She’s a fan of you.
A fan?
Joseph chuckled.
Well, she used to be anyway. She always got really excited when Uncle Joe was coming to visit. And Aunt Jane I guess, since it was a while ago. When she was a kid or something.
The song ended, and the same one started again.
The whole—
Joseph stopped to clear his throat. Whole family will be here then,
Joseph said.
What about mom and dad?
They’re in Midville.
That’s not on Cape Dodd though.
It’s the closest town. When people say ‘I’m going to town’ it’s the only town they ever mean.
Joseph looked out the window at the tall spits of gray-brown bark.
We’re all in the same area, I mean,
he said.
It was a different song. The singer was sad that he was so far away from his dear, his de-e-e-ear. The previous singer had wished that you were by my side. The song concluded, and the same one started again. Steve suddenly glanced to the radio with disdain and turned it off. He drove on in silence, and after another three minutes they turned right into the oyster shell driveway of the little beach house cul-de-sac, Shell Way. Five tall beach houses stood close to one another, surrounded by palm trees and artfully arranged pine straw. The pale yellow one closest to the beach, the only one that connected directly to the boardwalk leading down there, was where Joseph was staying for the summer. The one to it’s left, a squarish blue house, was where Steve was staying, and where Joseph would end up staying if they could stabilize the erosion of Cape Dodd, and Joseph could manage the project indefinitely. For the summer, he was staying in and fixing up the yellow house so his mom and dad could stay there once the project was a success.
Steve parked by his house