Seattle Quake 9.2 (A Jackie Harlan Mystery Book 1)

by Marti Talbott

  *

  "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 a
head."

  "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.

  Suddenly, in the midst of the crowd, he saw a hand raise a pistol and shoot into the air. Women screamed, men instantly began backing up and then a man in the center of the crowd yelled, "One at a time! No one gets in; my son will get what you need. Anybody with change goes first. We need ones and coins. Get back! Get back!"

  "Who made you God?" someone else shouted.

  "I'm not God, but I own this store and if you don't get back, I'll board it up and go home. You need me a hell of a lot more than I need your money. Now, who's got change?" Several in the crowd raised their hands.

  Sam watched the people finally obey, forming a line into the buckled and torn parking lot. Some cars sat twisted and turned while others sitting on broken slabs were slanted slightly up or down. Thoughtfully, he gazed through the gap where a large window once stood. Sam's eyes lit up. Trying not to draw attention, he softly whistled, "Ally Cat," skirted the parking lot and headed down the alley. Just as he thought, the back wall of the store had collapsed. Just inside, an elderly woman sat in a rocking chair facing the alley. When he drew near, she raised her loaded rifle.

  "I'll give you ten bucks for a bottle of pop and pack of cigarettes."

  The woman thought for a moment and then glanced toward her son. "Fifteen."

  "Fifteen for one pack of cigarettes, a bottle of pop and a bottle of water."

  "Done!"

  The feeble old woman eased out of her chair, slowly got up and started in, but then she thought better of it and turned back to Sam. "You mind the store?"

  "Sure." A side tooth missing, the old woman smiled and handed Sam the rifle. Several minutes passed, but finally she returned. Sam exchanged the gun and the money for the bag, nodded his appreciation, and then headed for a nearby park and a place to sit down. He located a bench tilted only slightly on one end and sat down. When he opened the bag, the old woman had included a fresh sandwich.

  Sam smiled and pulled it out, "I tell you, the Lord works in mysterious ways." Hungrier than he realized, he unwrapped the egg salad sandwich, opened his mouth and took a hearty bite.

  CHAPTER 13

  Tim's hands were still shaking when he sat down in the hallway next to Seely. "My exploring days are over. I might be wrong. Maybe falling does run in my family."

  Seely turned the radio down and watched the tightness in Tim's jaw. "I've got a feeling I don't wanna hear this."

  "You're right." Jenna eased down on her knees, and then leaned against the wall. Suddenly, she sat up straight again, "Listen."

  "Chopper," Tim said. "I'll go have a look." With that, he was up on his feet again, hurrying down the hallway. He walked into the conference room just in time to watch a Navy Chopper slowly fly over. Unlike the sky crane, this helicopter seemed to be examining damage all over the city, crossing over, turning, and then …. crossing over again in a zigzag pattern. A few minutes later, the thud of its engines diminished. When Tim returned, Jenna handed him the jug of water. He took a long drink and wiped his mouth on the back of his scraped up arm.

  Seely watched him with growing concern. His hands were still trembling and his normally pale skin looked even lighter. "Was it the same chopper?"

  "Nope, that one was Navy, but it didn't turn this direction. It doesn't know we’re here."

  "Maybe we could make a sign."

  Tim screwed the lid back on the jug and set it down, "And hang it where? The truth is, I don't have the
courage to go back out there. I'm the guy, I'm supposed to have all kinds of courage. But man, we're a long way up. A long, long way up."

  "I wasn't thinking of hanging it out the window, I was thinking about going to the roof. The top floor is…or was all glass, remember. If the dome is gone, all we'll need to do is spread it out. We can stay one floor down, the 46th floor. And when a chopper comes, we'll go up."

  Tim thought for a moment. "It might just work, if we can get on top. We got anything to make a sign on?"

  Dropping her eyes, Seely hesitated before she answered, "I'll take care of it."

  Jenna quickly puffed her cheeks. "You're going back into the storage room, aren't you?"

  "There are a lot of things we still need in that room. If we plan carefully enough, we can get it all in one trip."

  "But Seely, Bob is in there. And the big roll of paper is against the far wall. We'd have to..."

  "You let me worry about that. Now Timmy, tell me what you saw out there."

  Tim took deep breath and slowly let it out. "It's a mess. That guy was right, the waterfront is gone. The Federal Building, the one that used to be as tall as this one, is about six stories of rubble. The one next to it fell sideways. The whole harbor collapsed along with most of the first and second block. There's a freighter with its nose stuck up Madison Street and a long section of the Alaskan Freeway is out in the Bay, with cars still on top."

  Seely's mouth dropped. "You're kidding."

  "I wish I was. And it gets worse. We lost a floor, maybe two. I can see steel girders and rubble sticking out of the side of the building. I can't tell which floor, but if I had to guess, I'd say it's the tenth. Even if we take the stairs down, I doubt we can get past that floor, and the tenth floor is still too high to jump or climb down a fire ladder -- if a fire truck could get to us, that is."