Seattle Quake 9.2 (13 page)

"You want me to give up smoking now, in the middle of a disaster? I may be addicted, but you're crazy. I get mean when I don't smoke. Trust me, Max, you don't want me to give it up."

Max snickered and flipped the switch on the Amateur radio. He tuned the dial until he located his net's Magnolia/Queen Anne frequency, and then spoke into the mike, "W7LGF."

It was a woman who answered his call, "W7LGF, this is net control, stand by. BB, go ahead."

"A7BB, the Magnolia Bridge is down. I repeat, the west end of the Magnolia Bridge is twisted sideways and there's a sixty-foot drop. Traffic is backed up in both directions. We have heavy damage to the houses on both the east and south hillside area, but no report of injuries yet. Anybody know if we had a tidal wave? Over."

The Net Controller for Magnolia and Queen Anne was the only woman on this particular network of Hams. More experienced than most men and well known for keeping her cool, Sarah had a rich, flowing voice, a southern accent, and a calm manner. Her microphone system was voice activated, which sometimes was a nuisance since it often interpreted a noise for a voice. Yet, it gave Sarah free hands to take notes and in this case, it was invaluable, "Copy A7BB. Magnolia Bridge out and heavy damage to houses. No word of a tidal wave, but only three Hams have checked in on this net…four now, counting Max. W7LGF, go ahead."

"W7LGF, we've got the station back up. Mind if we listen in?"

"LGF, not at all. Good to have you aboard Max, over."

"W7LGF, thanks Sarah. Are you okay? Over."

Sarah glanced around her tiny duplex apartment. A wide crack ran down the middle of the hardwood floor in her living room. Half the ceiling sagged at one end; a large aquarium broke, spilling gallons of water across the room, and who knew where the fish were. Prized possessions littered the floor, but Sarah's backup generator worked, she was unharmed and her wheelchair wasn't broken. Her green eyes sparkled amid tousled dark hair and when she smiled, deep dimples appeared in her cheeks, "Lost my ramp, but this old house held better than I expected. Over."

"You'll let us know if you need help, right?"

"Roger handsome.  LGF, national news says we've been hit by an earthquake measuring 9.1 and centered under downtown Seattle. That first aftershock was 8.6. The last one measured 7.1  LGF, stand by. Net Control to A7BB."

"A7BB, go ahead."

"BB, can you see downtown Seattle?"

"This is A7BB. Let me walk across the park and take a look."  A normally good-natured young man, Jim Sarasosa had dark hair and brown eyes. He was twenty-eight, unmarried and a native of Seattle. A College graduate and full time teacher, he currently attended a summer course at the University of Washington. Now, next week's finals would be canceled.

Cautiously, A7BB walked closer to the edge of the park. Magnolia's land mass jutted out high above the Bay offering a panoramic view of the City, Harbor Island, several islands, the Olympic Peninsula and West Seattle -- opposite where Sam Taylor often sat on the pier.

While they waited for A7BB to report, Collin took two heavy breaths and stared at his trembling hands. "Nine point one. Wow, that's almost as big as the Alaska Quake and we've got a lot more people in a lot more buildings."

Finally, A7BB's voice came back on the Ham Radio.

"BB, this is net control, go ahead."

"A7BB, the fire downtown is pretty big now. Probably five or six city blocks.  I've only heard one siren since the quake. It stopped after that first aftershock. I'm almost to the edge of the park now.  Holy Cow."

"BB, What?"

Stunned, Jim Sarasosa forgot to say his call signs. "Sarah, the city is ... there's some sort of split in the city. Some of the buildings are tilted and some are clearly gone."

"BB, are there any more fires? Over."

"A7BB, small ones but not right downtown. I can see a fairly large one in West Seattle and more smoke in the South, behind the.... Good grief, I think the Kingdome fell, and I can't see the Alaskan Freeway. We must have had a tidal wave, the waterfront is gone."

*

At the news over her transistor radio, Seely's heart sank. "This can't be happening."

"I wish it weren't," Jenna said.

Tim slumped his shoulders even more and slowly shook his head. "Who would have guessed it? An earthquake, sure…a little one, but this big? I mean, the whole waterfront gone?" Abruptly, he got to his feet and started down the hall. "I'm gonna go see. The waterfront can't be gone."

Seely immediately protested, "Timmy, the water front is straight down. You can't go that close to the windows, you'll fall out."

The farther away he got the more muffled his voice sounded. "Won't fall out.  Falling doesn't run in the family."

Jenna raised her eyebrows, got up and hurried after him. "I wanna see too. I think I smell the smoke."

Seely watched until Jenna was out of sight, and then leaned her head back against the insulation. "Even if the fire is headed our way, we're stuck up here." When she tried to shift her position, she winced. "I'll bet the bruise on my rear end is the biggest one in Seattle." She eased her weight more on her left side, closed her eyes and went back to listening to the radio.

*

Sam Taylor was listening too. City block after city block still lay between him and Max. But this block was deserted. Tired, he paused to sit down on a large rock. The house behind him hardly looked damaged except for broken windows. The one next door was missing the front wall and would probably never be repaired. He removed his shoe, dumped dirt out and put it back on. Hair trapped under his earphone made his ear itch, so he removed his cap, set it on the rock, shoved his head set back and gave his ear a good rubbing.

Only then did he hear the church bells. Connected to the church organ, the bells played, "In the sweet bye and bye." Sam grinned, got up and followed the sound. Behind him on the rock sat his red golf cap.

He'd gone half a block before he remembered it. Sam stopped, turned and looked back. Behind him, a little eight-year old, African American girl followed with the cap cock-eyed on her head. Sam waited until she caught up. "Mighty fine cap you got there, little girl."

"I know. Found it on a rock. And I ain't no little girl. I'm in the third grade."

"I see. Where are your parents?"

"At the church.  Darn near everybody's at the church, Mister. You go'n to the church?"

"I thought I might. My name's Sam, what's yours?"

"Ashley."

"Well, Ashley, do you think you can show me where the church is?"

The little girl grinned, slipped her hand into Sam's and pulled him on down the street. "Come on Sam. We gots everything at the church.  Pastor Kirby, he said 'get ready' and ready we gots. We gots water, food, blankets and..."

"Get ready for what?"

"The earthquake, course." Her big brown eyes filled with wonder, Ashley suddenly stopped and looked up at Sam. "Haven't you heard? God's Prophet Daniel called up on the phone. He called to warn Mister Collin Slater at KMPR."

Just above Sam's nose, two straight up and down wrinkles appeared in his forehead, and his eyebrows pulled closer together. "I see. And you believed this Prophet?"

Ashley tugged on Sam's hand again and started off down the cracked and broken pavement. "Pastor Kirby did. Last Sunday, Pastor Kirby said 'get ready' and ready we gots. We brung everything to the church; blankets, food, diapers for the babies, dried milk, water and candy just in case. And sure enough, we had an earthquake. When God calls on the phone, we best be listening!"

Sam looked up and searched the sky with his eyes. He shrugged and followed the little girl to the church.

*

In the pickup truck, the Amateur Radio sat unused on the seat between Heather and her brother. Instead, they listened to KMPR on the truck radio. But with only four Hams checking in on Sarah's net, Heather soon got bored. Mischievously, she glanced at James, and then slipped her hand close enough to turn the dial on the Amateur Radio. As soon as she found what she thought was the right frequency, she quickly flipped the truck radio off and the Amateur Radio on. The dial was set perfectly and the transmission from the north end of Seattle came in loud and clear. Heather ignored her brother's look of disdain.

"UES, this is Mountlake Terrace net control. Your transmission is weak, try again, over."

"N7UES, we've got severe damage at Roosevelt Hospital. The west wing collapsed. We have twenty-three dead so far, at least a hundred injured and more walking in. Roads are buckled. We desperately need blood donors.  Elevators are stuck and only one backup generator is functional. Requesting all medical personnel come immediately. It’s bad here, Dave, really bad. Over."

"N7UES, copy. Anybody been able to reach the Red Cross?"

"KB7C"

"KB, go ahead."

"KB7C, Tulalip Indian Reservation here. We have moderate damage, no deaths and only minor injuries so far. We can spare 26 units of blood if you can find a way to get it there. Over."

"WV7GRM."

"GRM, go ahead."

"WV7GRM, this is Whidbey Island. We've got another 30 units and should have a chopper airborne in five to ten minutes. Red Cross reports staffing problems. We have requests from six other hospitals. Happy to pick up, Tulalip. Can you spare any medical personnel?"

"WV7GRM, this is KB7C, I'll check and get back to you. Out."

*

In the conference room, Tim picked up a five-foot cork bulletin board and dumped the rubbish off. With a careful eye, he surveyed the damage to the room, and then placed the corkboard on top of the broken glass on the floor. Next, he got on his knees, crawled onto the board and lay down. With his hands and the tips of his feet, he scooted the board closer to the edge of the vacant window.

Standing behind him, Jenna was afraid to breathe, "Maybe we should wait until after the next aftershock."

"Could be another hour or so, who knows? Grab my leg will you?  And don't let go." Careful to avoid jagged glass still in the frame, he eased his head over the thin windowsill. For several breathtaking moments, he scanned the damage far below. He scooted back, got to his knees and hurried to the safety of the inner room.

"What?"

"The waterfront's gone all right. It sunk. Come on, I wanna see the other side." Tim lifted the corkboard and hauled it through the door. When he reached the elevator hallway, he turned left. Another corridor led to the plush executive offices on the northern side of the forty-third floor, some with worse damage than others. Cautiously, he chose a middle office and just as before moved rubbish out of the way, put the board down and climbed on.

And again, Jenna held on to his leg, "Tell me what you see."

"Well, I can see the fire. It's a lot bigger than I thought. Looks like it’s the television stations. No wonder we haven't heard any news choppers. The smoke is drifting out over the water, so maybe the fire won't spread this way. I can see people in the street and…wait, where's the Grand Rainier Hotel?" Boldly, he moved a little farther forward. "Jenna, the bus tunnel collapsed. Some of the buildings are leaning." Hurriedly, he pulled himself back inside, grabbed the board and stumbled over the rubbish toward the corridor.

"Where are you going?"

Tim didn't answer. Instead, he turned down yet another walkway. This one was filled with multiple filing cabinets, each toppled and spilled, making the hallway impassable. "Take a memo Jenna. From now on, no filing cabinets or furniture of any kind allowed in the hallways. Sheesh!"

Jenna giggled and quickly followed him in another direction. Soon, he'd led the way to an outer office facing west. Again, he moved debris, climbed atop the corkboard and inched his way forward until his head stuck out over the edge of the building. And once more, Jenna grabbed hold of his leg.

By the time Sam and Ashley arrived, the damaged church was filled to overflowing. Inside, a man stood near the altar and sang the last few lines of, "In the sweet bye and bye, we shall meet on that glorious shore..." Not one eye was void of tears. Then Pastor Kerby offered a prayer for the dead and dismissed his congregation. Sam slipped a hundred dollar bill into the preacher's hand, glanced one last time at the golf cap still on Ashley's head and slipped away. More than a hundred blocks and a waterway yet separated him from his son.  He adjusted his earphones and continued on.

*

"This is KMPR in Seattle. I'm Collin Slater with the worst news this announcer has ever had to report. At approximately 4:30 this afternoon Seattle suffered a catastrophic earthquake followed by several strong aftershocks. America, if you can hear me, we have severe damage and are in desperate need of help. The number of dead and dying increase by the moment, and personally, I could use another pack of cigarettes."

Seated in the control room, Max let his head flop forward, "Collin, it's against the law to smoke in a public building in Seattle, remember?"

"Let 'em come arrest me Max! Half of Queen Anne Hill is gone, people are dying across the street, we don't know where our wives are, and you're worried about some stupid ordinance? I can't take it Max, I really can't. Aftershock!"

*

Tim's eyes bulged. The building had begun to heave and his head was sticking out of a forty-third floor window, "Jenna pull!" The south side of the Winningham Blue sharply rose, the middle humped and the north side dipped in such rapid succession the top floors wildly bounced. The ground once more rumbled, metal and concrete screeched and the rubbish on the floor shifted.

Caught in her own terror, Jenna struggled just to hold on to Tim's leg. But the sharp jolts were inching her closer to the outside edge of the building as well. Two ceiling tiles sailed past her head and a heavy black cable abruptly snapped free of its lodging, and then hurled downward. Just in time, she jerked out of the way.

Tim's body scooted farther over the edge. He shoved his hands behind him in search of something solid to grab. There was nothing, but then he felt a sudden weight on his leg. Behind him, Jenna was sitting on it. Her hands free, she pulled the cable taut, and then repeatedly looped it around his other leg. Quickly, she tied a knot, grabbed hold of the cable and waited.

*

A little more than two blocks from the church, Sam heard the rumble and watched the wave beneath the pavement shoot toward him. He quickly glanced around, but the trees were too far away. So he simply sat down in the middle of the street. Parked cars tipped up and back, threatening to roll toward him. Wood-framed houses creaked and popped in agony. Telephone poles with dangling lines, leaned closer together, and then stretched farther apart. And frightened people flew out of doors.

Finally, the land eased and stopped moving. His tired muscles aching, Sam slowly got up off the pavement. He watched neighbors run to a collapsed house, listened to a woman scream something about her cat, and then turned to go.

*

At KMPR, the pain in Max's eyes had increased. Still, he walked to the center of the studio again to make sure the satellite dish was still there. It was. He scooted the Amateur Radio back toward the middle of Collin's console, set the mike in front of it and went back to the control room.

Collin, on the other hand, hurried down the stairs and disappeared inside his apartment.

*

Just outside of Yakima, James made the turn onto Interstate 90, increased his speed, and then turned the volume up on his Ham Radio. The dial was still tuned to reports coming out of Northern Seattle's Mountlake Terrace where Carl, a worried man with an increasingly alarmed voice was in charge of Net Control. Carl asked all his Hams to stand by, and the airwaves went quiet. James waited a moment more, and then flipped the Ham Radio off in favor of KMPR.

Surprisingly, the voice he heard was Carl's, "WB7JSS to NE7JT, over."

"JSS, Carl this is Sarah, go ahead."

"WB7JSS, I've got heavy traffic here with all kinds of calls backing up. I just can't handle it. We never trained for anything of this magnitude. Can you help? Over."

"Roger WB7SS. Don't know what's happened to our people ... nothing bad, I hope. What have you got?" Sarah flipped to a clean page in her spiral notebook and got ready to take notes.

"It's bad Sarah, real bad in the North. I'm sending you W7MX and W7HEU.  Mattie has a collapsed department store with hundreds buried inside and Tom is at an open fissure just north of the UW."

"Copy WB7SS, send them to this frequency and take a break. You're no good to anyone if you’re falling apart. Let somebody else take Net Control for a while. Over."

"I suppose you’re right. Thanks Sarah. WB7SS, out."

Patiently, Sarah waited, staring at her radio and absentmindedly tapping the end of her pencil on her paper. The tapping filled the airwaves. Finally, W7MX called in.

"Mattie, this is Sarah. Can you give us a report? Over."

She tried to hide it, but even over the radio it was obvious Mattie was crying, "W7MX. Well, we're doing the best we can to get them out. We can hear people crying for help, but we can't get to them. We have fourteen dead and I don't know how many missing. People are bleeding and we only have one doctor. We need medical supplies and better equipment to dig with. Every time we have an aftershock, the building crushes that much more. Over."

"W7MX, copy. Mattie you're doing a great job, just hang in there. I need your location, over."

"This is W7MX. I'm in Northgate just west of North Seattle Community College on 97th and Wallingford Avenue, over."

"Okay, we need heavy equipment in Northgate. Anyone else? Damage or injuries only, please."

"AG7VHR."

"VHR, is that you Ronnie? I've been worried about you, over."

"Sarah, the roof on the bingo hall caved in. I don't know how many inside. It runs twenty-four hours, but this time of day, they've usually only got people playing the machines. We need equipment too. Guess there's not much hope of that anytime soon.  Sarah, my kid's trapped inside, over."

Sarah hung her head. AG7VHR was the man who'd helped her settle in Seattle, came to check on her often and she adored his teenage son. He was a widower, ran a sports shop and never turned down an opportunity to help others. His son was an only child. "Roger VHR. Help will come – it has to. Over."

*

In the pickup, Heather changed positions, fiddled with her fingers, and then intentionally turned to stare at the side of her brother's face.

James pretended not to notice. He kept his eyes straight ahead, but he could always tell when she was watching him. Finally, he narrowed his eyes and glared back, "What?"

"I'm thirsty."

"Drink water, we brought four gallons."

"I don't like water. I want a soda."

"Where? Here? We're in the middle of the mountains, Heather."

"Yes, but we could stop somewhere. Take the next turn off, okay?"

James frowned, turned his head away and softly muttered, "Women."

*

"NP7QRT."

Usually cheerful and relaxed, Sarah was oddly annoyed. Aside from all the other problems, something was causing her great discomfort and she'd been too busy to figure out just what. Finally, she turned her attention away from her Ham Operator duties and slammed her pencil down. "What is going on here?" She glanced around, and then turned her head as far as she could to look behind her. Already a good two inches lower than her walls, the split and cracked hardwood floor appeared to be sagging. Above, the ceiling sagged as well.

Sarah reached for her elongated, special made gripper, placed a doorstop between the pinchers and expertly wedged it behind her right rear wheel. "There!" Relieved, she easily returned to her normal, cheerful tone, "QRT, go ahead."

"NP7QRT, I'm over here in Mathias Park. The deer spooked and ran into an electric fence. Several have broken legs. What should I do? They sound like they're crying. Should I kill them or what? Over."

AT KMPR, Max waited for the answer. But Sarah was silent. Finally, he hobbled to the Ham Radio and leaned into the mike.

"W7LGF to NP7QRT."

"LGF, go ahead."

"W7LGF, listen the most humane thing is to put them out of their misery. Who knows how long it will be before we can find a vet in this mess, over."

Sarah sighed, "LGF, I sadly agree. Okay, who's next? Injury or damage only please. We can worry about traffic later."

"WT7RA."

"RA, Magnolia net control, go ahead."

"WT7RA. Wallingford Red Cross is requesting help moving their back up generator."

"RA copy. Where are they setting up? Over."

"WT7RA, Abraham Cook High School on 41st and Stoneway. Arrangements were made in advance with the Fairmount Church, but it fell in. The school's in pretty good shape and has cooking facilities. All we need to do is move the generator from the church to the school. A pickup truck would do. Shoot, we'd settle for a wheelbarrow. Looks like we're gonna have a lot of hungry people to feed, over."

"Copy that WT7RA, good to hear your voice. I was worried about you too. Okay, Wallingford Red Cross needs help moving a generator at 41st and Stoneway. Anymore?"

"A7BB."

"BB you still in Magnolia Park? Over."

"A7BB, affirmative. Got myself in a little trouble. Nothing Serious. Sarah, the Navy is coming. I can see an Aircraft Carrier sailing down the sound from Everett. Must be that one they were bringing in for repairs. Man am I glad to see those guys. And they've got three rescue choppers lifting off, over."

"Thank God. BB, what kind of trouble are you in?"

"A7BB.  Well, when that last aftershock hit, I hugged a tree. The edge of the park crumbled and the tree took me with it. I'm about half way down the cliff.  Don't think I'm hurt, but the tree's got me pinned and it's about a ninety foot drop from here, over."

"Copy BB. We got anybody available in the Magnolia Area? Over."

"NE7J, emergency."

"NE, go ahead."

"NE7J, we've got a gas leak in Freemont. I've been smelling it for three blocks. It's real strong, over."

"NE, you anywhere near the gas company's business office? Over."

"Yes, but it's across Lake Union. A section of the Aurora Bridge fell and the Freemont drawbridge is stuck in the up position. They've got a crew trying to lower it. I could steal a sailboat, I guess. Where is everybody? We've got thirty people on this net. Sarah, you don't suppose they're…dead? NE7J. Over."

*

At the radio station, Collin was back upstairs. He sat down and quietly listened to the exchange over the Amateur Radio, and then he shook his head and turned to Max. "All these years, I never even knew these guys were out there. I figured Hams just talked to people in other countries. It never occurred to me they were this organized. And they're so calm. You'd think this kind of thing happens every day."

Max slowly looked up from his controls, "We're on the air, you know."

"I know." Collin stopped talking and listened a while longer. He gently pulled the third from the last cigarette out of his pack and lit it. He took two long drags, and then quickly put it out. "I can't stand not knowing. Doesn't anybody know what's happening at South Center? At this rate, it could be days before we find out if our wives are alive."

Max closed his eyes, brought both hands up and rubbed his temples. "It's not that simple Collin. Hams need repeaters, most of which are on the top of buildings. If the repeaters are down, their transmissions are limited to a short distance and have to be passed along by other Hams. Besides, there are thousands of separated families. We train for emergencies so we can get help to the injured and prevent more tragedy by warning of potential danger. We're not doctors, we're not cops and we're not fire and rescue. We're just Hams, scared out of our wits. We pass messages – that’s all most of us know how to do. We'll hear from South Center, it just takes time."

At the unusually long outburst, Collin turned in his seat. His friend had his brow tightly wrinkled and was still rubbing his temples. "Hey Max, you got a headache or are you cracking up on me?"

"Think I might have broken my ankle."

"No kidding? You've been walking on it."

"Yes, but it’s black and blue, it’s swollen and there is no way to get to a doctor. You got any pain killers downstairs?"

"Could be, I'll go see." Collin swung around on his stool and headed for the stairs.

The Amateur Radio was still on and the man trapped by a tree over the edge of Magnolia Park lifted his hand-held to his mouth and pushed the PTT button, "A7BB."

"BB, go ahead."

"A7BB, possible broken ankle at KMPR. Age 32, name Max Taylor, over."

"Copy, BB."

*

Sam Taylor turned down Greenwood Avenue, a four-lane street running straight through the suburb of Bitter Lake. After only ten blocks, his legs ached, his feet hurt and he was in need of something to drink. So when he reached the small shopping center near the Library, he paused to watch a crowd standing outside a corner store. People were angry, shouting and pushing each other.