Inferno in Tokyo

by Marianne Hering

  Mr. Inumaru was shouting in Japanese. The hotel staff was running up the main stairs. Each man carried a pot of water.

  Mr. Inumaru passed through the main hall. Then he rushed into the dining room.

  Patrick took off his apron and left it on a nearby stool. He followed the hotel manager.

  The dining room was filled with square tables. White tablecloths covered all of them. Men sat at the tables working on typewriters.

  A frantic clickety-clack chorus came from the black machines. Patrick also heard many different languages being spoken. He thought he recognized French and maybe Russian.

  But one thing was the same about the men: they were all smoking cigarettes or cigars. Patrick coughed. He wondered why these men were adding to the indoor smoke.

  “Everybody upstairs,” Mr. Inumaru said in English. “There’s a fire. We need your help.”

  The clickety-clack stopped. The men stood.

  One of the Japanese men said proudly, “The Imperial Hotel is brand new. The finest architect in the world built it. It’s supposed to be fireproof,” he said. “Some of it is made of bricks. And the huge stones are made from lava. Nothing can burn that.”

  “But it has two hundred and eighty bedrooms with windows,” Mr. Inumaru said. “And the hotel doesn’t have air-conditioning. The windows are all open. Sparks are flying in the windows and lighting the curtains on fire. The hotel will burn from the inside out!”

  “That’s a great story!” an American said. He sat back down at his table with the white tablecloth. He picked up a fresh piece of white paper. He rolled it into the typewriter and said, “I can’t wait to tell the New York Times! How many rooms did you say there are?”

  Then it all made sense to Patrick. The room was filled with newspaper reporters. Their offices had probably collapsed in the earthquake.

  Mr. Inumaru ignored the American man’s question. Then he began speaking in Japanese. His voice sounded urgent.

  Still none of the reporters moved from the room. They all sat down and began typing again.

  Beth is upstairs with Chibi-chan! Patrick thought. If these men won’t help, I will.

  Patrick hurried past Mr. Inumaru and the reporters. He climbed the red stairs two at a time. He reached the second floor seconds later.

  A member of the hotel staff was waiting there. He said something in Japanese.

  Patrick panicked. He didn’t understand. “What?” he asked.

  The Japanese man shook his head. He said more Japanese words in a louder voice.

  Patrick still didn’t understand.

  The man pointed to a hallway to Patrick’s left. Then he made a shooing motion.

  Patrick ran down the hallway and into a cloud of smoke.

  He bumped into someone and fell backward. “Ouch!” he said.

  “Patrick?” Beth said. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “I’ve been going into the rooms after the adults have checked for fire,” she said. “They shut the windows, and I take down the curtains.”

  Patrick stood and asked, “Which rooms have you done?”

  “Only a few on this wing,” she said.

  Just then Major Burnett and a hotel bellhop hurried toward them. The hotel employee had a large kitchen pot in his arms. It was full of water.

  “Make way,” Major Burnett said. “We’re coming through with water for room 208!”

  Patrick and Beth squeezed against the wall. The men rushed past without slowing down. Beth moved as if to follow them.

  “Wait,” Patrick said. He grabbed her arm.

  “Let’s stay together,” Patrick said. “It might be difficult taking down the curtains alone.”

  They entered a bedroom and moved quickly to the window. Patrick and Beth yanked on the curtains. They pulled the curtains down along with the rods.

  “I’ll put the curtains in the tiled bathroom just to be safe. There could be a spark smoldering in the fabric,” Patrick said.

  He bundled the curtains and opened the bathroom door. He was surprised to see the water pipes used as towel racks. He dropped the fabric in the tiled shower and left.

  The cousins then took the curtains down in about forty rooms.

  In one room Patrick heard some unusual noise. He leaned out the window.

  “Beth,” he said, “come see this.”

  Beth leaned out the window too. “Whoa,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  A man on a white horse was near the pool. Mr. Kagawa stood next to him.

  Patrick saw dozens of Japanese men in khaki military uniforms. They were positioned on the hotel grounds.

  One guard stood at each corner of the pool. Another pair stood at the hotel entrance.

  All of them had rifles at the ready.

  The Crown Prince

  The young man on the white horse rode into the garden. Patrick could see him through the smoky haze.

  The man wore a military coat. A yellow sash crossed his chest. A striped belt circled his waist. The rest of the uniform was covered with medals, bars, and fancy patches.

  “I think that’s the crown prince!” Patrick said. “And Mr. Kagawa is walking next to him.”

  “The prince looks glorious!” Beth said. “I didn’t miss seeing him after all.”

  The man got off the horse. Several soldiers went with him into the hotel lobby. Mr. Kagawa followed them inside.

  Beth and Patrick quickly closed the window. They hurried into the hallway.

  Patrick’s legs suddenly felt like rubber. The building was shaking.

  “Another tremor,” Beth said.

  Patrick stepped back underneath the doorway of room 230. He pulled Beth next to him.

  The shifting bricks creaked a little and then the movement stopped.

  Major Burnett found them standing in the doorway.

  “The staff can take over putting out the small fires,” he said. “The crown prince is here. I’m going to greet him.”

  Patrick glanced at Beth. She was frowning.

  “Should I get Chibi-chan?” she asked. “Or do you think Mrs. Woods will still watch her for me?”

  “Oh, let’s not disturb the Woods,” said Major Burnett quickly. “I think they need to rest. Telling them about the prince might excite Ambassador Woods. And he had a fright when his office collapsed.”

  “But his wife wasn’t with him,” Beth said. “Wouldn’t she like to see the prince?”

  “You saw how panicked Mrs. Woods was earlier,” Major Burnett said. “I’m sure holding a baby is just what she needs. Peace and quiet.”

  Patrick was confused. He said, “But a baby isn’t peace and quiet—”

  “Yes, it is!” Major Burnett said. “Small children are just the thing for calming the nerves. Why, I have several myself. We all sleep like babies when I’m home.”

  Beth was silent. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Patrick could tell she didn’t believe Major Burnett.

  Patrick also thought the major was talking nonsense. Then he figured out that Major Burnett was teasing them.

  “Oh,” Patrick said, grinning. “I get it. You want to meet the prince and represent the United States yourself.”

  Major Burnett winked at Patrick. “You’ll be a good politician one day, boy! History is to be made this day! And I intend to make my way to center stage.”

  Major Burnett brushed soot and dust off his uniform jacket. Then he gave the cousins a salute. “Let’s leave the Woods alone for the time being. Come with me,” he said.

  Major Burnett turned and headed toward the stairs. Patrick and Beth followed him.

  They came to the dining room on the first floor. It had been full of journalists and typewriters before. Now the tables were pushed back against the walls. Mr. Inumaru and Crown Prince Hirohito were on a raised platform. Mr. Inumaru was standing at a podium.

  Many people had come to the Imperial Hotel. The room was full to bursting with well-to-do Asians, Americ
ans, and Europeans. Most of those present were men. But there were several women and even a few children.

  Some newspapermen had their cameras out. Others stood nearer the prince with notebooks and pens ready.

  Patrick wondered if this was a press conference.

  Beth gently nudged Patrick in the ribs with her elbow. “There’s Mr. Kagawa. Let’s go stand next to him.”

  Mr. Kagawa smiled as the cousins came near.

  Suddenly one of the soldiers near the prince moved. He walked to the podium and spoke in Japanese.

  The journalists began writing on their pads of paper.

  Mr. Kagawa whispered, “The soldier says the Imperial Palace is standing, but it is cracked. It may yet fall. The emperor and the empress are out of the city. They are safe.”

  The soldier spoke again. Then the crown prince stepped up to the podium. He spoke quickly and with a high-pitched voice. His words echoed off the stone walls.

  Mr. Kagawa put the words into English. He said, “The Imperial Hotel will house the foreigners in the city. The Japanese navy will bring supplies tomorrow—tents, cots, and rice. The hotel is to feed its foreign guests first and then the refugees.”

  Patrick thought, Mr. Inumaru was right. We will need ten thousand rice balls.

  The prince spoke for just a few seconds. Then Major Burnett talked about American naval ships in the area. The US ships would bring food. They would also help transport refugees to safer regions.

  Major Burnett sat down. Then the prince began to speak in Japanese again. This time he talked much longer. The journalists asked questions. And sometimes the Japanese soldier spoke again too.

  A small tremor shook the ground. The building groaned and settled. A tense silence filled the room. Then the prince spoke again.

  Patrick felt very tired. He leaned against a nearby stone pillar. He closed his eyes to take a nap.

  Suddenly a word woke him from his snoozing: “Tesla.”

  Patrick turned toward Beth. She was staring at him wide eyed.

  “We forgot all about finding Nikola Tesla,” she said.

  “We’ve been too busy just surviving,” Patrick said. “We also had Chibi-chan to worry about.”

  “The prince said the name Tesla twice. Maybe Tesla is here!” Beth said. She scanned the room. “We don’t even know what he looks like. He could be anyone.”

  Patrick pulled on Mr. Kagawa’s sleeve. “What’s going on?” he asked. “What did they say about Tesla?”

  Mr. Kagawa leaned forward as if to whisper. But just then the prince said something. Mr. Kagawa paused.

  “Excuse me,” Mr. Kagawa said. “The crown prince just asked me to speak to the crowd.”

  The Tornado Fire

  Beth whispered to Patrick. “Why does the prince want Mr. Kagawa to speak?” she asked. “What is he going to say?”

  Patrick shrugged. “We’ll find out!” he said.

  The people in the crowded room moved aside. Mr. Kagawa made his way up to the podium.

  Mr. Kagawa approached Mr. Inumaru, the prince, and the soldier. Mr. Inumaru’s Japanese tuxedo made him look dignified. The crown prince looked regal. The soldier looked crisp and neat.

  But Mr. Kagawa’s clothes were dirty and torn. His face was still covered in soot. He seemed small and bedraggled next to the well-dressed men.

  “The honorable Prince Hirohito has asked me to help with the refugees,” he said. “I am at the service of my countrymen.”

  An American journalist called out, “What are your first concerns?”

  “I’ve been asked to help the people and the police talk to one another,” Mr. Kagawa said. “The people will be hungry and angry. The police will be overworked and fearful. We want them to work together to keep the city safe.”

  “So you’re saying the refugees will riot,” the journalist said. It wasn’t a question. “The crowds will attack the police.”

  Mr. Kagawa said, “I’m saying that everyone wants peace after this disaster. I will do my best to reason with the police officers and the refugees.”

  Beth wanted to know why Mr. Kagawa had been asked to help. She took a deep breath. Then she spoke up from the very back of the room. “Why are you being asked to do this, Mr. Kagawa?”

  Another reporter with a French accent piped in. “What is your background?” he asked.

  Mr. Kagawa smiled and gave a little bow. “My life’s work is to help the poor. I have been very public about it,” he said. “I helped organize the farmers and factory workers. That has led to better wages. I have also lived in the slums for many years. I understand the troubles of the homeless.”

  Mr. Kagawa paused as the journalists kept writing in their notebooks. A Japanese reporter asked something in Japanese.

  Then Major Burnett asked, “Will the YMCA and the American Christian mission agencies send help?”

  “I will ask them,” Mr. Kagawa said. “Just as you will seek help from the American Red Cross. I believe they will send money and supplies to feed the poor. The mission agencies will set up housing for the refugees. And they will open orphanages for lost children.”

  People in the crowd murmured their approval.

  Beth was also happy that the Americans would help the refugees. She felt proud of her country.

  The soldier near the prince motioned for the interview to stop. The soldier moved to the podium. He spoke in broken English. “Soldiers here to protect you. They keep refugees away from hotel.”

  Mr. Inumaru joined the soldier at the podium. “Guards will be on the hotel grounds at all times,” the hotel manager said. “Tomorrow we will put cots in the community areas. Tonight we ask that each bedroom fit at least six people in it.”

  Beth whispered, “There’s only one bed in each room. That means at least four people will have to sleep on the floor.”

  Patrick told her the rooms could fit fourteen hundred people. The bigger rooms like the dining hall could fit a thousand more on cots. Hadn’t Mr. Inumaru said the city had hundreds of thousands of people? Many people would be on the streets.

  Beth felt glad to have a place that wasn’t burning. She said a prayer of thanks to God.

  The press conference came to an abrupt end. The room emptied with Crown Prince Hirohito leaving first. Then the Europeans and Americans filed out past Patrick and Beth.

  Only the journalists stayed. They sat back down at their tables and began typing. Clickety-clack.

  “Now we can ask about Tesla,” Beth said. “Let’s find Mr. Kagawa.”

  Patrick and Beth checked behind the black-leather couches. They looked around potted palms. They looked down the hallways. They checked the theater room.

  Their friend wasn’t anywhere.

  “Maybe he’s gone to another part of the hotel,” Patrick said.

  Beth looked out one of the low windows in the dining area. “It’s dark outside. I can’t see very much,” she said. “Just some bushes and more lava bricks sticking out.”

  Patrick pointed to some windows at the top of the room. “Let’s go out on the second-story walkway,” he said. “The sides are all open. We should be able to see more from up there.”

  Beth and Patrick hurried up the stairs. A group of Europeans was coming inside. Beth recognized two of them as the Dutch ambassador and his wife.

  The last man inside quickly pulled the walkway door shut behind them. It closed with a bang.

  The ambassador was tall and round. “Don’t go out there,” he said to the cousins. “The wind almost blew me away. You’d be tossed about like a leaf in a tornado.”

  The man rubbed his bald head. “I even lost my hat.”

  His wife smiled at Beth and Patrick. “You be good children,” she said. “You’re lucky you get to come inside away from the fire.”

  She patted Beth on the head. “Go back to the first floor by way of the lobby,” she said. “That’s the safest way to get to the west wing.”

  “Speaking of safety,” the ambassador said, “I noticed you ta
lking to Kagawa during the press conference. Stay away from that scoundrel. He’s been imprisoned twice! I wouldn’t let a child of mine hang around with a criminal.”

  Beth gasped. “But Mr. Kagawa is so nice!” she said. “And the crown prince is letting him help with the refugees.”

  “The prince just wants to keep an eye on Kagawa,” the ambassador said. “Everyone knows he’ll stir things up with the refugees anyway. He’s a union man.”

  Then the ambassador, his wife, and the other foreigners left the corridor.

  “What’s a union man?” Patrick asked.

  Beth shrugged. “It can’t be all bad if Mr. Kagawa is one of them,” she said.

  Patrick put his hand on the door’s horizontal metal bar. “I’ll just take a quick peek. Maybe Mr. Kagawa is leaving the hotel,” he said. “I’ll come inside if it really is too windy.”

  Patrick pressed his full weight against the door. It wouldn’t budge.

  “The wind is holding the door shut,” Patrick said.

  Beth leaned on the door too. She pushed her shoulder into it. The door opened just a bit. Suddenly it flew open.

  Patrick staggered onto the walkway. Beth followed.

  The wind beat at them mightily. Beth’s legs felt wobbly, but they held her steady. A dry heat scorched her skin and throat.

  But the fire was worse than the wind. It was five times the size it had been in the afternoon. A great cone-shaped mass of fire swirled over the city from the east. It reached from the ground to the sky.

  The fire wind picked up trees and rooftops. It lifted telephone poles and bicycles.

  “What is that?” Beth asked in a hoarse voice.

  “A cyclone of fire!” Patrick shouted. “And it’s headed this way!”

  The cousins hurried inside and shut the door. Beth hoped the hotel really was fireproof.

  Kaboom! The building shook. A series of explosions sounded.

  Patrick dove under a chair and put his arms over his head.

  Beth clapped her hands over her ears to stop the ache from the noise. She moved away from the windows.

  The fire passed the building. A dark-orange color glowed through the windows. Beth felt as if the air were getting thinner. Her breaths were short and desperate.