Inferno in Tokyo

by Marianne Hering

  Beth stood on a wide stone post at the end of the bridge. She lifted her arm high and waved to him.

  Patrick waved back and then pushed forward again.

  Patrick and Mr. Kagawa were halfway across. Suddenly the bridge began to shake.

  Another tremor!

  The bridge moved up and down as if it were made of rubber. People were thrown against the handrail. A few of their bundles fell over the side and splashed when they hit the water.

  Then Patrick heard a loud crash. It was followed by screams from the crowd.

  Patrick felt as if he were on a slide. And he was.

  The end pillar was toppling. The supporting bricks were sinking into the river.

  The bridge dropped with a jerk. One side separated from the rest of the bridge. It sloped at a steep angle right toward the water.

  Patrick tumbled forward. He rolled head over heels toward the river.

  He reached out wildly to stop himself. His hand found a metal cable. He grabbed it and held on. He whispered a prayer and asked God for help.

  Wood planks slid past him. They shifted and left gaping holes in the bridge.

  Patrick watched Mr. Kagawa stumble. Then he fell and disappeared through a hole.

  “No!” Patrick shouted.

  Now dozens of people slipped between the loose planks. Others slid past Patrick.

  He heard shouts and splashes as people fell into the water. Others dangled from the cable before letting go. Many squealed before landing in the water.

  A pink bundle rolled in Patrick’s direction. At first he thought it was a blanket. But the bundle had a face.

  He reached out with his free hand. He grabbed the soft, pink fabric and pulled it close.

  Patrick looked into the face of a little girl. Her lips formed a perfect 0 shape.

  In one of her tiny hands was a wood doll. She shook it and said, “Ning-yō.”

  The Elephant

  The aftershock lasted about thirty seconds. Beth rushed to the edge of the bluff. She looked down at the collapsed bridge.

  A mass of people was thrashing in the water. Their arms and legs flailed in a giant tangle.

  The river swirled and began dragging people away.

  Beth couldn’t see Patrick or Mr. Kagawa. She kept looking for them in the churning water. She had to get closer.

  Beth tuned out the shouts and cries of the swimmers. She couldn’t help them until she got to the water.

  Beth quickly but carefully made her way down the steep bluff. She stopped right at the riverbank. The crumbled pillar lay in a heap of broken bricks.

  Some bedraggled refugees had already made it to shore. Many others were swimming toward her.

  She was close enough now to see Mr. Kagawa. He was half treading water, half trudging toward the riverbank. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Hey!” she shouted and then waved her arms. “Mr. Kagawa! Over here!”

  Mr. Kagawa turned toward her. He was sopping wet. Water dripped from his suit jacket and dark hair. But he still wore his glasses.

  “I’m glad you’re all right,” Beth said. “Where’s Patrick?”

  Mr. Kagawa pointed to the collapsed bridge. “I fell through a hole,” he said. “Patrick managed to hang on.”

  Beth squinted. Patrick was standing alone near the edge of the bridge. He was the last person on it. He held a pink blanket in his arms.

  “Patrick,” she called.

  He turned. He was teetering on a loose wood board.

  “Jump in,” Beth said. “Swim. It’s not far.”

  Patrick shook his head. “I can’t,” he called back. He lifted the blanket high. Beth could now see the round face of a baby.

  He’s got a child! Beth’s heart raced. A lone baby meant something had happened to the parents.

  A nearby tree suddenly burst into flames. The sparks crackled and glowed. Burning leaves blew toward the bridge.

  “The bridge will catch fire,” Beth said. “The wood is old and dry.”

  Patrick couldn’t jump into the water with the baby. The water was too deep and fast for him to swim. And he couldn’t go back. The bridge was now in two sections.

  “I’m going to swim with Patrick,” Beth said to Mr. Kagawa. “I’m upstream. I can jump in first. Then he can jump when I pass under the bridge. Together we’ll save the baby.”

  “You’re brave,” Mr. Kagawa said. “But let’s wait. Perhaps another answer will—”

  “Wait?” Beth said. “We can’t wait. The bridge will burn.”

  As she spoke, a few of the wood planks caught fire.

  Mr. Kagawa turned his back to her. He waded back into the deeper water. He moved toward an old woman bobbing in the water. She looked as if she might drown. He reached his arms under her shoulders.

  Mr. Kagawa was distracted. Beth took that moment to slip off her shoes. Then she took a deep breath and plunged into the water.

  Patrick watched as Beth jumped into the river. He wondered, What is she doing?

  Suddenly he heard a trumpet-like blast. It came from the other side of the river. Then he heard another.

  Patrick didn’t want to take his eyes off Beth. But he had to see what was making that noise. He turned around reluctantly and . . . gulped.

  He couldn’t believe it. An elephant had charged into the river. Its trunk was raised. And a man was riding on its back.

  The river swirled around the beast. The water foamed and splashed against its mighty legs. It trudged straight toward Patrick.

  Patrick gasped. The elephant came alongside what was left of the bridge. It stopped in front of him. Its gray trunk wrapped around his waist and squeezed. It lifted Patrick up. He touched the skin with one hand. It felt like thick leather with deep ridges. And it was surprisingly hairy.

  The elephant rider shouted something in Japanese. Patrick didn’t understand the words. But he could tell the man was trying to calm him.

  The elephant walked through the river. Patrick rocked with each step. The baby giggled as Patrick held it tighter.

  Patrick and the child were only inches above the rushing water. He felt the spray on his face. If the elephant let go . . .

  Then he was gently placed on the shore. The elephant’s trunk loosened and released him and the baby. Patrick stood on the shore staring at the great beast. He wondered if this were all a dream.

  The elephant and its rider made their way up the steep slope. They left as quickly as they had come.

  Patrick felt something hot graze his cheek. It was a glowing piece of ash. He looked at the bridge.

  Burning planks dropped from the bridge into the water. They sizzled as fire met water.

  Patrick looked all around the water and the riverbank. The last of the refugees were getting out of the water. Only a few were still on the riverbank.

  Mr. Kagawa was helping an old woman out of the water. But Patrick didn’t see the person he was looking for.

  The riverbank and bluff were nearly empty of people. Only a few remained. They were repacking their household goods. None of them seemed to be looking for a child.

  And where was Beth?

  Then something white caught his eye. Farther downstream, the bank curved sharply. Trees and bushes grew alongside the river. Their branches jutted into the water.

  Something white—really white—was near the shore. It was Beth’s dress. She was hanging onto a branch with both arms.

  Rescued

  The bridge’s planks and railings had burst into orange-red flames. The wind blew harshly, and more red-hot ashes scurried through the air.

  Beth watched as the bridge burned. The smoke darkened the already-black, cloudy sky.

  Patrick and Mr. Kagawa came to rescue her. Patrick still held the pink bundle carefully with one arm. He held her shoes in his free hand.

  Mr. Kagawa offered her a long branch. She let go of the one she was holding. She reached out and grabbed hold of his branch. He pulled her to shore.

  Patrick gave her a qu
ick hug. Then he handed her the shoes she had left behind.

  “Where to now?” Beth asked. She put on her shoes and smoothed her hair.

  “We must go to the American embassy,” Mr. Kagawa said.

  “Why there?” Patrick asked.

  Mr. Kagawa looked puzzled. “You are American,” he said. “Your accents give you away.”

  Patrick and Beth nodded.

  “So your parents will be looking for you,” Mr. Kagawa said. “They will search there first.”

  Beth didn’t know what to say. How could she tell Mr. Kagawa about the Imagination Station? Her parents were thousands of miles away. And they hadn’t even been born yet!

  Beth chose her words carefully. She didn’t want to lie. “I guess most American parents would do that,” she said slowly.

  “But what about the baby’s parents?” Patrick asked. “What if her parents didn’t make it across the bridge?”

  The idea saddened Beth. “What if they died?” she asked. “The baby might be an orphan.”

  Mr. Kagawa held up his hands. “One problem at a time,” he said. “First, let’s move toward more open land.”

  Patrick handed the baby to Mr. Kagawa. Then the cousins followed him to a tramline. The tracks led away from the river.

  The smoke was still thick and muted the sun. Beth watched her feet as she walked. She didn’t want to step into a fissure.

  A strange trumpet-like sound caused her to look up.

  Patrick shouted, “It’s the elephant!”

  The Temple

  The backside of an elephant was waddling along the tracks. Its wispy tail swayed with each step. A long, thick chain encircled its neck. A thin man held the end of the chain.

  Mr. Kagawa called out something in Japanese. The man pulled on the chain. Then he and the elephant slowed to a stop.

  Patrick, Beth, and Mr. Kagawa hurried forward. They quickly caught up to the man and the gray beast.

  “Hi,” Beth said. “I’m Beth. And this is Patrick.”

  Patrick bowed. “Thank you for allowing your elephant to save me,” he said.

  The man smiled.

  Mr. Kagawa introduced himself too.

  The man nodded. He was wearing loose, dark work clothes. He spoke in broken English. “I’m the zookeeper Torizo Fukui [foo-koo-ee].” He motioned with his head to the elephant. “And this is Zou.”

  “May we pet Zou?” Patrick asked.

  The zookeeper nodded and said, “Just don’t touch his ears. He doesn’t like that.”

  Patrick and Beth patted the elephant’s trunk. Its long nose curved into an upside-down question mark. It wrapped around Patrick’s shoulders.

  Then the long, hose-like nose sniffed Beth’s hair. She giggled.

  “What happened to you and Zou?” Patrick asked Mr. Fukui.

  The man told his story in Japanese. Then Mr. Kagawa translated it into English for Patrick and Beth.

  “The zoo caught on fire,” Mr. Kagawa said. “The only animal Mr. Fukui could release was this elephant. It couldn’t move because it was so scared. Mr. Fukui led Zou out of the zoo with the chain.”

  “So all the other animals died?” Beth asked.

  The zookeeper nodded. “But maybe some birds flew away,” he said.

  Beth felt sad for all the people and animals that had died.

  After that, the small group walked in silence. Soon they came to the end of the tracks.

  Beth could see a large open space nearby. It surrounded a building with a tile roof. A second tall, red building stood in the distance.

  The area was already swarming with hundreds of refugees. Bedding was spread out over most of the grass. Small cookstoves warmed pots filled with rice or soup.

  Little boys played underneath large pines. They made toys out of sticks and rocks.

  “Let’s stop here at the temple,” Mr. Kagawa said. “Perhaps this will be a place Zou can stay.”

  “What kind of temple is it?” Patrick asked.

  “This temple is Shinto,” Mr. Kagawa said. “It’s the ancient religion of the Japanese.”

  “Who is Shinto?” Beth asked.

  Mr. Kagawa chuckled. “Shinto isn’t a person like Buddha or Jesus,” he said. “Shinto means ‘the way of the gods.’ It has many, many gods called kami. They are more like spirits of nature than people.”

  “Are you Shinto?” Beth asked.

  Mr. Kagawa shook his head. “I’m part of the Friends of Jesus movement,” he said. “There are a few of us in Japan. We sow the seeds of God’s peace and forgiveness.”

  Zou raised his trunk. It swung back and forth like a snake being charmed. The end of his nose flared open and shut.

  Suddenly the elephant bolted. The quick movement jerked the chain. It slipped through the zookeeper’s fingers.

  Zou was free.

  Chibi-chan

  “Watch out!” shouted Mr. Kagawa. He pressed the baby into Patrick’s arms and chased Zou.

  But Zou was too fast. The large gray animal took great strides toward the temple grounds. He headed for the center of the garden.

  The refugees jumped up and screamed. Men and women snatched up their bedding and children. They pushed their carts out of Zou’s way.

  The elephant stopped at the large pond surrounding the temple. He plunged his trunk into the water and drank.

  Beth caught up with Mr. Kagawa and the elephant.

  Mr. Fukui came too. He stood next to Zou and motioned for people to stay back.

  Now that Zou had water, he was calm again. The people settled down too.

  Beth looked more carefully at the temple. It was one of the most elegant buildings she had ever seen.

  The temple was painted red and gold. The corners of the roof pointed upward. It was as if someone had lifted the edges of a tile blanket.

  The nearby trees were trimmed neatly. Some reminded Beth of lollipops. The trunks were tall and thin. At the top of each was a large clump of branches.

  In front of the temple was a wide gate. Its iron doors were locked.

  Mr. Kagawa went to the gate. He rattled the iron bars. Then he shouted something in Japanese.

  A man came out of the temple. Beth guessed he was the priest.

  The man wore a beautiful kimono. The fabric had a forest scene woven into it. His hair was in a ponytail on the top back of his head. It looked like someone had chopped off the end with garden shears.

  Mr. Kagawa pressed his face against the bars of the gate. “Why aren’t you helping these people?” he asked the priest in English. “They need food and clean water. They need tents.”

  The priest eyed Beth. He didn’t seem pleased that she was there.

  “The kami will help them, Mr. Kagawa,” the priest said in English. He made no move to open the gate. “The water that flows inside the temple is for purification. Should I let the refugees pollute it?”

  “If you want to be pure,” Mr. Kagawa said, “take care of the poor. Especially the widows and children.”

  The priest looked at Beth again and scowled.

  “No children inside,” the priest said.

  “Or troublemakers. The temple is closed. Guards are here to keep the people out. The refugees will have to find help somewhere else.”

  “There is no ‘somewhere else,’” Mr. Kagawa said. “I’ve just come from Honjo. The entire region is burning.”

  The priest sniffed the air. “The kami of wind and fire are angry,” he said. “I must go sacrifice to them.”

  “Wait,” Mr. Kagawa said. He pointed to the tall red building behind the temple. “Isn’t that a shrine to the kami of mercy?”

  The priest nodded.

  “Then show that you value her,” Mr. Kagawa said. “Show mercy to these people.”

  The priest gave a harrumph. Then he said, “I will consider your words.” The priest went back inside the temple.

  Just then the earth shook.

  Patrick leaned against a pine during the aftershock. The tree helped keep him upri
ght. The refugees in the temple garden started to run. Some shrieked in fear.

  The noise woke the child in Patrick’s arms. She reached up with one tiny hand and touched Patrick’s nose. She waved the doll and said, “Ning-yō.”

  “Yes,” Patrick said. “That’s a doll. At least I think that’s what you said.”

  He looked at the girl and wondered, What should we call you? He remembered a name he’d heard on a Japanese TV program. “Chibi-chan,” he whispered. “It means ‘short stuff.’”

  Patrick felt moisture. A misty spray of water lightly covered him and the baby. Chibi-chan grinned and showed four teeth.

  Patrick looked around for the source of the mist. Zou was squirting it from his trunk. Japanese children were squealing with delight. They danced in the cool spray.

  Mr. Fukui was laughing. He seemed almost happy.

  Suddenly the mood in the garden lifted. The scared, tired, soot-covered refugees gathered round Zou. One woman offered Mr. Fukui a cup of tea.

  The zookeeper bowed and accepted the drink.

  A young woman approached Patrick. She was wearing dark, loose clothing. Her long black hair hung in a single braid down her back. She motioned with her arms toward the baby. Patrick guessed she wanted to hold Chibi-chan.

  But something held him back. He clutched Chibi-chan close. He asked, “Are you her mother?”

  The woman shrugged and said something in Japanese. Again she motioned that she wanted to hold Chibi-chan.

  Patrick shook his head. The woman started shouting. She took hold of the blanket and pulled.

  Patrick pulled back.

  People from the crowd gathered round. They grasped at Patrick and Chibi-chan with their hands.

  Patrick felt trapped. “Help!” he called. “Mr. Kagawa! Help! Beth!”

  The American Embassy

  Beth heard Patrick call for help. “Come on,” she said to Mr. Kagawa. She rushed away from the gate toward the pond.