Seattle Quake 9.2 (A Jackie Harlan Mystery Book 1)

by Marti Talbott

  "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?"

  CHAPTER 15

  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."

  "Collin!"

  "Max, I got my rights. At a time like this, a man shouldn't have to do without the little things. I mean, how cruel is that anyway?"

  "You're cracking up man."

  "No I'm not. I'm just saying it’s the little things. That's all. Hey, I just thought of something. You think the Prophet lived through this?" Suddenly, he drew in a sharp breath.

  The earth was moving again.

  This time James and Heather were close enough to Seattle to feel the strong aftershock, and James swerved just in time to keep from rear-ending a car. Yet for them, not far from the outskirts of Preston, the initial jolt of the 5.7 aftershock was more of an inconvenience. Just as other drivers did, he pulled to the side of the road and waited.

  In the Winningham Blue Building, Jenna screamed again and flew into Seely's arms. The earth rumbled and the enormous building once more screeched in agony, bouncing, twisting, turning and wreathi
ng.

  Alone in the dark stairwell one floor up, Tim spent ten minutes climbing over large chunks of cement on the steps. The higher he went the more the devastation and he had only just made it to the door when it started. He quickly looked around for something secure to grab, but there was nothing, except the untrustworthy handrail and a doorknob. He grabbed the knob with one hand, sat down on a chunk of concrete and scanned the frightening, shaking structure with the beam of his flashlight. Opposing walls appeared to be moving in different directions, shifting from side to side, while at the same time bouncing up and down. More concrete crumbled and fell, revealing larger areas of rebar. The air smelled of dust and the stairwell echoed deep, unnatural, guttural noises. Before it ended, the motion made him nauseous. He let go of the doorknob, laid the flashlight in his lap and held tight to his wrenching stomach.

  At KMPR, Max and Collin were back in the doorway. Neither man dared to look through the window. Instead, they tried to keep their heads bowed and their bodies steady. Just as it had before, the two story house shifted and hopped. Glass tinkled, books slid and the Amateur Radio moved closer to the edge of Collin's console.

  Ninety-seven blocks north, Seely's daughter, Michelle, quickly pulled both children out of the back seat into the front. Wave after wave rolled the pavement under their parked car. Neighbors poured out of badly damaged houses, and before it stopped, Michelle's eyes filled with tears again, "Oh Momma, why did you go to work today? Please live, Momma…please."

  Seely's heart had begun to hurt again. The wrenching pain contorted her face and she involuntarily clenched both fists.

  Jenna struggled to open the purse and grab hold of the small bottle of pills. Urgently, she unscrewed the cap, reached in with two fingers, pulled out a tablet, and put into Seely's open mouth. When the aftershock stopped, Jenna found herself staring at Seely and still holding the open bottle.

  Sam Taylor was mad. The shock wave caught him by surprise and knocked him to the broken pavement. When the heaves diminished, he lifted his eyes to heaven and threw up his hands, "Enough, already! How much can these people take?" Instantly he was sorry for his outburst. He pulled his earphones off, bowed his head and apologized.