Bad weather sensors and alarms on buoys out in the Atlantic Ocean were storing data on a system of unparalleled size, but the warnings went unheeded, those operating the stations long gone; their dark halls abandoned.
Most water front areas had emptied out right after the War. Storm surges, tidal waves, and horrible flooding forced the tourists and vacationers to go, but there were still people surviving along the coast. They were the longtime residents who had stayed for Hurricane Camille in '69 and again for Andrew in '92. These were the die-hard survivors who abandoned their homes for nothing…and now, they were leaving.
The ocean was telling them there was a monster on the way, though it was over two months before the season officially started. Some of these residents held hopes of returning, but most suspected there would be little to come back to. They had seen the signs and understood.
Before, they might have had three or four days of warning. Now, they had one if they were alert, and only a few hours if they were not. The days of city pumps and mandatory evacuations were gone, but the natural warnings were abundant. Flocks of brightly-colored birds that normally spent a few days in the area, kept going, their cries uneasy, upset. The surf was growing steadily rougher, pushing further onto the debris-littered beaches, despite no visible storm clouds. The wind threw out sudden downdrafts and heavy rain bands that had gust sensors reaching 70 before settling back down to 35. The barometers were dropping sharply; the tides almost impossible to distinguish as the rough surf moved further inland, and animals had begun to beach themselves.
It was enough to convince even the most foolhardy. Sharks, whales, dolphins, all fleeing and panic-stricken, were willing to suffocate themselves on the beaches, rather than face whatever was coming. This was no tropical depression, and alert coastal survivors raced to get out of its path.
Some people however, had no idea danger was once again approaching. Large parts of Georgia, made oceanfront property in the War, were underwater, and Valdosta, where the crack had split the land, was full of people who had been on the road for the holiday. Stuck with no way to go forward and no way to go back, they had no understanding of the ocean's dangerous fury and the cost of the lesson was high. The group of survivors in Valdosta only numbered a hundred, but they were unrelated families who could have repopulated the entire country without any fears of inbreeding. Their laws might have been drastically different, their future waiting for them…