Seattle Quake 9.2 (16 page)

Collin paused and quickly glanced at Max, "And if you happen to find a pack or two of cigarettes..."

Max quickly downed two more ibuprofen, swallowed, and then rolled his eyes, "Collin, you're twisted, man."

Collin smirked, laid the mike down and then turned the volume back up on the Ham Radio. The Mayor's speech was over.

"NR7G"

"NR7G, go ahead."

The man caller spoke in a dull, monotone voice, slowly stretching out his painful words, "Mercy Hospital fell…collapsed. Don't bring your injured…there is no one left to help."

Sarah hung her head and softly mumbled, "It's too much. It's just too much." She put both hands on the arms of her wheelchair and lifted her body. Paralyzed from the waist down, her upper back was starting to hurt and changing positions was the only way to relieve it. She lowered her body back down, and then went back to her duties, "This is net control, copy. Mercy Hospital is incapacitated."

"WC7NJT."

"NJT, go ahead."

"I've got another message from the Mayor. The Army is closing all routes into the city and will turn everyone back except emergency staff and vehicles. Also, the Mayor is ordering an 8:00 p.m. curfew. All citizens are to be off the streets by..."

In a huff, Collin switched off the radio. "Great. That's just great! We've got people dying here and his answer to all our problems is to lock us down tight. It'll be dark soon. What are we supposed to do, stop helping people just because the Mayor is afraid of looters? I say..."

Bad foot and all, Max left the control room and walked to Collin, "Man, don't say stuff like that, you'll start a riot."

"I don't care! Are people like him born without common sense or do they just misplace it once they run for office? We've got work to do. We need every available man and woman to dig people out of the rubble. What about the fires, huh? Are we supposed to just let them burn all night? Where are the police? Where are the firemen? We haven't seen one since the quake and we've got a collapsed building right across the street. I'll tell you where they are, there are too few to handle this mess, and those we have are trying to dig their own families out. What about kids with missing parents and parents looking for kids?  Think they're a big threat to pawn shops and jewelry stores. And what about..."

Suddenly, the loud, sorrowful groan of wood and metal interrupted Collin in mid-sentence. He held his breath, waiting to see if the earth would move again. But it wasn't the earth. Instead, the noise was coming from outside. Unnerved, he spun around on his stool, hopped down and raced to the window. Across the street, the second apartment building had begun to lean to one side -- the side where the first one lay in ruins. Wide eyed, he listened as the unearthly moan of wood scraping against wood intensified and the building teetered.

People began to fly out the front door. A man jumped from a second floor window, quickly got up and held out his arms to a child above. In the doorway, a woman fell and mindless others trampled her. And still, the building lamented, leaning closer and closer to a torturous death.

The man on the ground screamed, "Jump, Jeremy, jump!" But the four-year old in the window above was frozen in terror, his arms out stretched and his face streaked with tears. Briefly, the father considered going back up, and then he thought better of it. Forcing himself to look angry, he glared at the child, "If you don't jump, I'll beat your butt!"

The child winced. Still in tears, he begrudgingly lifted one, and then the other leg over the windowsill. Again the building groaned and leaned yet another foot to the side. In the doorway, two men mercifully grabbed hold of the fallen woman and quickly pulled her to safety while still more people fled from inside.

At last, the child jumped into his father's arms. But before the man could turn to run, the building gave up its struggle. Old mortar suddenly disintegrated, allowing bricks to rain down on father and son. With a percussion as loud as a bomb, the building crumbled into a heap of rubble, burying both under tons and tons of rubbish.

Collin dared not move. In shock, he heard no sounds and felt no emotions. Nor did he allow his mind to accept what his eyes had just seen. The dust storm from the fallen building began to mushroom upward like some thoughtless, evil cloud of death and he still could not move.

It was Max, not Collin who quickly sat down at the console and grabbed hold of the mike. His expression was filled with anger, his hands shook and his jaw muscles flexed, "Listen people!" he nearly shouted. "The sound you just heard was another building falling. More people have just died. Please, please don't go back inside any building. There can't be anything in there important enough to risk your lives for. Take your children to a parking lot or a park. As soon as we can, we'll give you a list of places to go for food and water. Until then, get out of the buildings!" Still angry, Max shoved the microphone aside, got up and hobbled back into the control room. He would have slammed the door, but…

*

Thousands of people all up and down the Puget Sound area were painfully aware of the approaching night. Some had transistor radios but most did not, relying instead on car radios. Some had water, medical supplies, stored food and extra clothing. But most did not, oblivious or uncaring when it came to preparing for that elusive earthquake they assumed would never happen. Now, survival gear meant everything. And fear consumed their very souls.

Ninety-five blocks north of downtown, Theo Westly sat his overwrought wife Michelle down in the front passenger seat of their 1963 Oldsmobile. Thousands of hours went into restoring the engine and just before the quake, he moved it from the garage to the street, planning to take it for a test drive. Now, it was the only undamaged car they owned. He closed the door, and then glanced around. No telephone poles or power lines were near enough to fall on them.

Next, he put his two daughters in the back seat, got in the driver's side, rolled down the window, and closed the door. "Honey, there is absolutely nothing we can do about your Mom. Absolute nothing."

Her hair as dark and as long as Seely's, Michelle folded her arms and sniffed her nose. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her head already ached and her voice quivered, "There must be something we can do. We can't just leave her there. Oh Theo, if only she hadn't gone to work today."

"If she hadn't gone to work she would have been at home, in that twenty-five year old building with cracks already in the walls from the last earthquake. She probably has a better chance of surviving downtown." He watched her face, but his wife didn't find much comfort in his words. "Come here," he said, opening his arms, and then wrapping them around her. "Honey, we can't go downtown and we can't leave the kids even if we could. What can we do?"

"I don't know, something, anything."

"Well, there is one thing we can do."

Michelle sniffed her nose again and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief, "What?"

"We can stay alive. Your Mom made sure we had enough stuff to last two weeks, maybe more. But if people find out, we could be in danger. We need a plan, a safe place to keep ourselves and our supplies."

"Where? The house is ruined."

"I know. Let's just think a moment."

In the front yard, just below the third sprinkler head from the street, a tiny camera captured their worried expressions and tender moments.

*

"A7BB."

"BB, you okay? You haven't slid any farther down that hill, have you?"

"No, I'm okay. Just thought you might like an update on that dumb cat. He fell asleep, Sarah. Curled right up and fell asleep like he hasn't got a care in the world. But Sarah, it's the strangest thing ... the water is muddy. I didn't realize that before. I've never seen the Bay all muddy. And Sarah, I can see bodies. A7BB, over."

*

In the hallway of the Winningham Blue, Seely sat on the floor with her legs outstretched. The bruise on her face seemed darker and her jaw was swollen. She laid the radio in her lap and watched Jenna's nervous eyes dart from side to side. "What's wrong baby?"

"How can you be so calm? We could still fall, Seely. We really could."

"I know, but there's not a thing we can do about it. Tell me about Kevin.  What do you suppose he's doing right about now?"

Jenna suddenly giggled. "He's on the plane from Germany, I hope. He's probably heard about the quake and is trying to figure out a way to sneak through the barricades."

"Good for him. Think he'll make it?"

"Of course he will. He's smart, he's big and he's got a uniform. But Seely, what if he can't land. I mean, Timmy said the airport..."

"Tim is guessing. We don't know for sure all the runways are out and SeaTac is not the only airport. There are military airports all up and down the coast, not to mention Spokane and Yakima. And we have small airports too, practically everywhere. He'll make it. And by that time, we'll be out of this building. Now, how about passing me the water jug?"

The Sikorsky air crane seemed to appear from nowhere, moving southwest and gliding just above Lake Washington. But W7HEU didn't notice.

His mouth tight and his hand-held radio clutched in his hand, he stood a little more than six feet from the edge of the giant fissure. All around, houses lay in ruins. Telephone poles and uprooted trees were strewn across heaved and broken yards, some crushing homes or cars parked in the streets. From the top of the hill, the devastation yielded a clear, unexpected view of Lake Washington and occasionally he glanced that direction, only to find the destruction too cruel to contemplate.

Onlookers watched the activity around the fissure from a safe distance. Shirley Goodman, her face cut and one arm bruised, brought a pot of fresh coffee heated over a camp stove. But the Amateur Radio Operator and the young football players with blistered hands refused to pause. Once more, they lowered the only available harness over the edge. One hundred and sixty feet below, another of their team quickly slipped it around a teenage girl, buckled the belts and yanked on the rope. Slowly and carefully, the girl was pulled out of the chasm. Yet fear of the fissure closing grew with each passing moment and the rewards only numbered two women and seven children saved. People still waited amid the ruins of crashed cars and toppled houses -- at the bottom of the frightening "V" shaped crevice.

Faintly, he heard the clap of the Pratt and Whitney engines coupled with the whine of the air crane’s blades. W7HEU turned and looked – beyond the onlookers, beyond the crumbled houses and beyond the felled trees. Its bubble face was pointed directly at him and coming fast, but it was not the curious face that held his attention. Instead, he kept his eyes glued to something extraordinary. It was a brown, circular object hanging just beneath the undercarriage of the modified body.

Closer and closer it came, rising off the water with its repetitive whipping noise growing louder, and its size increasing. Finally, he threw up his arms and began to shout for joy. "A basket…they're bringing a hot air balloon basket!"

Instantly, he pushed the speak button on his radio, "W7HEU."

"HEU, go ahead."

"We got ourselves an Angel…a big, blue Angel!"

*

On an ordinary day, Heather and James would have found crossing over the Cascade Mountains amid such manageable traffic a pleasure. But as they drew nearer to Seattle, traffic markedly increased. Now, James was forced to keep his speed down to forty miles an hour and be prepared to stop at a moment’s notice. Even more troubling was the unusual, bumper-to-bumper onset of traffic leaving the greater Seattle area. Heather watched the dull, lifeless expressions on worried, frightened faces. Some looked agonizing. The last car going east passed by, leaving a clear and free highway.  Heather sat up straight and looked ahead for the reason. Inbound traffic slowed to twenty miles an hour and crept around a long, wide curve in the Interstate.

James tightened his grip on the steering wheel and frequently glanced to his left, "Must be an accident." Suddenly, he spotted a tangled web of cars with dazed people standing beside them. He pulled the truck over to the side of the road, applied the brakes and stopped. With quick, precise movements, he turned his Amateur Radio toward him, found the Yakima emergency frequency and brought the portable microphone to his mouth. "KB7HDX emergency."

"HDX, go ahead. Where are you, James?"

Reception was a little weak and James hesitated a second before he went on, "Boyd, we've got a seven or eight car pileup on Interstate 90 east bound, with serious injuries. It looks like a tractor was hauling a load of people out on a trailer."

"HDX, did you say a tractor trailer? Over."

"Negative, a farm tractor, pulling a flatbed trailer loaded with people, over."

"Copy HDX. Oh and kid, you forgot your call signs. And one more thing, your Dad is looking for you. Over."

James puffed his cheeks and considered not answering. But he glanced at the injured people and quickly changed his mind. "This is KB7HDX. Tell Dad Heather and I are headed for the Red Cross Center in Renton. We're going to help, over."

"Commendable, HDX, just not very smart. I'll tell him. We already got a call on that accident. You should have help in a few minutes, over."

"Thanks Boyd, KB7HDX, out."

Boyd was right. In less than five minutes, two ambulances came from the direction of Yakima. For another twenty minutes, James and Heather assisted a registered nurse and four Medical Technician's with the injured. No one died and Heather was greatly relieved. Yet when she climbed back into the passenger side of the truck, she was clearly annoyed, "Idiot!"

"Who?" James asked, getting into the driver's side and closing the door.

"That guy in the green Camaro.  He said he was so scared after the earthquake; he just got in his car and drove as fast as he could. The accident was his fault, he said so himself. He could have killed all those people. And they were coming out of the earthquake too, some of them were already injured. They left behind all they owned. Their cars were smashed, their houses were..."

James started the engine, eased back into inbound traffic and just let his little sister rant. More than a mile later, he pulled over again.

"Why are we stopping?"

"Didn't you hear? They're setting up roadblocks. We can't get in."

Dismayed, Heather stared at her brother, and then looked back out the window, "Quitter."

"You watch too much TV, Heather. What am I supposed to do, crash the barricade or sail over a drawbridge?"

"They need us in Seattle."

"For what? We're just a couple of kids."

"Well, the way I see it, nobody else is going to help Max and Collin. Somebody has to find their wives."

James considered it for a moment before he spoke, "We could go straight to the fire at South Center, but then what? We don't know what they look like. We don't even know what kind of car they're in."

"Yes, but we could find out. Once we get there, we'll radio Max and ask him."

James strummed his fingers on the steering wheel and stared at nothing at all. "Dad knows where we are."

"Really? Is he mad?"

"Don't know yet. I only talked to Boyd."

Heather shrugged and threw a hand out, palm up, "What's the worst he can do?"

"Ground us for life, take the truck away, or spank us. Or worse, he could send us to Uncle Harry's and make us work all summer in the packing sheds."

"Peach fuzz, yuk!"

"Still think we should go?"

This time it was Heather who thought it over carefully. "We're too big to spank. I'll miss this old truck, grounding us makes Mom crazy, and peach fuzz is manageable ... with enough baby powder. I say we go."

James started to laugh, "What do you mean,
you'll
miss this old truck? It's
my
truck!" Heather didn't answer and James didn't expect her to. Instead, he took up a new position amid the growing number of cars heading into Seattle.

"NP7WS."

"NP, go ahead," Sarah said.

"NP7WS wishes to pass along another message from the Navy. Be advised, rescue teams with search dogs are on their way from six states -- Florida, Texas, Oklahoma, North Carolina, South Carolina and Kansas. They should be arriving as early as tonight. Also, Canada is sending teams of electricians to help restore power, and the Red Cross is asking citizens to place identification on the dead whenever possible. Over."

Copy NP. Does Navy know if the fire at South Center is out yet?"

"This is NP7WS, stand by." Just as before, silence filled the air while NP7WS talked to the navy. "South Center is still burning, but they've got the gas main turned off. They've been able to get two fire trucks in, and they've got a hand brigade dipping water out of the Green River and passing buckets. And one more thing, the USGS isn't sure, but we may have another big aftershock as strong as or stronger than the initial quake. Over."

"Copy that, NP. Can Navy still see our man on the cliff?"

"Stand by ... Roger Net Control. They've got casualties coming on board. Afraid he'll have to wait a while longer. NP7WS, over."

"Copy NP, thanks. Come in, A7BB."

"This is A7BB, I heard, over."

"BB, how's the kitty?"

"Well, the dumb cat woke up and tried to swim for it. Most cats hate water, but this one got real wet before he figured that out. Nearly didn't get back on the board, but he looks okay now. I think when the tide comes in it will push him closer to shore. And Sarah, I can see more bodies. Two for sure and I think three more, over."

"Copy BB."

A7BB released the button on his hand-held and took a deep breath. His was the best seat in the house, although the view was of massive devastation and his tree was gradually slipping down a hillside. Even so, he marveled at the array of choppers increasingly filling the sky. Some he recognized as military. Others had markings he'd never seen before. He watched as they held their place in line, waiting to deliver the severely injured, and then quickly lifting off again. One helicopter, with a Canadian Maple Leaf emblem on the side, dropped a large black bundle near the edge of the deck. Almost immediately, seamen unbelted the bundle and began pulling out black body bags. The next Canadian chopper unloaded several men and women in white medical jackets.

The next sight was one he hadn't counted on. A tug boat, complete with a red stripe around it, and black smoke billowing out of its smoke stack, was pushing a long, wooden barge around to the back of the Aircraft Carrier. The tug expertly changed positions, turned, and then eased the barge up to the side of the huge ship. Soon, men still in Navy whites were lowered to secure the barge, and as soon as the tug pulled away, a small crane lowered the first occupied body bag.

A7BB shivered.

The time was 6:45 p.m. -- a little more than two hours after the first earthquake and less than one hour remained until dark. The fires still burned, people were still buried, scant news was coming from downtown and in a place where rain fell in abundance, not a cloud appeared in the sky. A7BB would have to wait for that drink of water. Cautiously, he slid his hand around the tree branch and into his pocket. His spare batteries were safe and sound. Relieved, he turned the volume up on his hand-held. Finally, the first call came from downtown.

"NE7G."

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

"Be advised the I-90, I-5 interchange south of downtown fell in the initial quake. We have traffic backed up for miles with no way to get people off. Is the Mercer Island Bridge out? NE7G, over."

"Affirmative NE. Where are you?"

"I was on the I-90 overpass. Now I'm standing on Airport Way South. Sorry it took so long to get in touch, but my car went off the freeway and I just now managed to crawl out. NE7G. Over."

"NE, are you hurt?"

"Sure I'm hurt. Isn't everybody? Sorry, Sarah, I didn't mean to snap at you, over."

"That's okay Ned. What can you tell us about downtown?"

"NE7G, well the retractable roof on Safeco Field flew off its rollers during the first quake. I watched it from the Freeway. But that's no big surprise; we all knew the fault ran right under the stadiums. I think the Kingdome fell too and I watched the new train station cave in. Chinatown's a mess. After the second quake, the freeway fell.  People were so scared they just ran, the ones that could, I mean. Was there a game today? Do we have thousands of people trapped in Safeco Field? Over."

"NE, I don't know." Sarah remained quiet, allowing the words to sink in and trying to think if there were events scheduled in either of the ballparks. She couldn't remember. She was getting tired and her ceiling looked an inch or two lower. Still the thirty-year-old turned back to her duties. "NE, this is net control. The Army and the National Guard are mobilizing and they'll need our help. Try to find the worst hit areas and keep me posted. You're the only Ham we've heard from downtown, over?"

"NE7G, roger. I'll head on over to Safeco Field. Pray it's empty, okay? Out."

In the attic radio station, Collin glanced around. "Max, what'd you do with that newspaper? We have any games today?"

"I don't think so. I think the Mariners are out of town. Of course, they're always holding boat shows or something on weekends in the Kingdome. Try that trash can, maybe I stuck it in there."

Collin got down off his stool and walked to the trashcan.  He rummaged through, but found no newspaper. Nearer to the window than he'd been since the second building fell, he tried to resist looking out. But the temptation was too great. On the front yard of the second building lay a little boy, cold and unmoving. He walked back to his console and grabbed his cigarette pack, "Damn."

"Collin, we're on the air."

"Sorry, I forgot." He leaned closer to the mike and allowed his voice to override the Ham transmissions, "Sorry folks, but I'm down to my last cigarette. It's the little things, you know. I mean, the whole world is falling apart and I've only got one cigarette left."