Boyd Morrison - The Tsunami Countdown

Kai could hear a pause while she tried to accept what he was telling her.

“Okay,” she finally said. “Where should they go?”

“They should use one of the west bridges off of Waikiki and then just head uphill until they can’t go any farther. The best would be for them to try to get up to the Punchbowl or into one of the hillside neighborhoods. If they aren’t safe there, I don’t know where they’ll be safe.” The National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific, known locally as the Punchbowl, was an extinct volcanic crater holding vast rows of veterans’ graves. The sides of it were over four hundred feet high.

“What about Lani? What about Teresa and Mia?”

“I haven’t heard from them. I’m sure they’ve heard the warnings and are heading to high ground as we speak.”

“Then why haven’t they called?”

“The phone lines are jammed. I’m lucky I got through to you. Plus, Teresa’s phone battery is dead. She probably doesn’t want to stop and call us from a landline until she’s safe. Which is the right thing to do.”

“Okay. But let me know the minute you hear anything. I better get going. I’ve got a lot of people to evacuate.”

“Rachel, promise me you’ll be walking in thirty minutes.”

“I promise that as soon as I get everyone out, I’ll get out too.”

“If you don’t get out before that, you’ll be stuck in the hotel. There won’t be time to get to safety between the waves. They’re too big.”

“I understand that, Kai, but I am responsible for these people. I have to do my job.”

“I know. Go do it. And, honey, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Rachel said. “I’ll see you when this is over.”

She hung up. Kai stared at the phone, hoping to hell that she was right.

Rachel immediately got on her walkie-talkie.

“Max, come in.”

“This is Max. Rachel, are you watching the TV?”

“No, I’m up in the ballroom.”

“They just issued a new tsunami warning. But now they’re saying—”

“They’re saying it’s going to be a lot bigger, and they’re telling us to evacuate the hotel.”

“So you are watching it.”

“It doesn’t matter. We’ve got to evacuate.”

“I was having problems just getting people to go back to their rooms. We’re swamped down here in the lobby.”

“I know. You’ve been sending the guests with rooms on the first, second, and third floors to the Wailea Ballroom, right?”

“Yes, that’s the procedure.”

“Not anymore. Go up and tell them to leave the hotel. They should head up Kalakaua Avenue. Then have them go up Manoa Road to Woodlawn.”

“Woodlawn? That’s got to be at least three miles away.”

“I know. That might be far enough inland.”

“Are you kidding?”

How many people are going to ask me that today? Rachel thought.

“I’m not kidding,” she said. “Just do it.”

“Okay, but how do I convince the guests? Some of them have asked me where the best place to view the tsunami is.” Max paused for a moment. “What if we set off the fire alarm?”

“I thought about that,” Rachel said, “but it might make people more confused. They might think it’s an alarm for the tsunami and stay where they are.”

“Then what about the people already in their rooms?”

“First, spread the word to the staff that we’re evacuating the hotel. Then, after you’ve informed the guests in the Wailea Ballroom of what’s going on, take as many of the front desk staff as you can spare and go room to room to make sure people know to evacuate.”

“What if they won’t?”

“We can’t force them to leave, but make sure they understand how dangerous the situation is. Remember, my husband works at the PTWC. If he says to get out, we’re going to damn well do it.”

“And what about you?”

“I’ve got five hundred guests in the Kamehameha Ballroom. I don’t leave until they do.”

10:35 a.m.

47 Minutes to Wave Arrival Time

Honolulu had forty-eight minutes, but the Big Island had only eleven minutes. Renfro knew that many on Hawaii wouldn’t be able to reach safety, especially if they hadn’t already started to evacuate, but they had to try. And they had one advantage that Christmas Island and Johnston Island didn’t have: the Hawaiian Islands were built by volcanoes, so they were very steep. If people walked quickly or ran, they might be able to get to a safe height. Renfro realized that every second ticking away was precious. The governor was still on her way, but he couldn’t wait even the last few minutes it would take for her to arrive. He would have to make the new announcement himself from the broadcast booth.

By this time, several others on staff had made it in to help him out. But there were still only six of them, so he gathered them around to give the most important briefing of their lives.

“Okay, here it is,” he said, his voice shaking. “In eleven minutes, a massive tsunami will hit the south tip of the Big Island. In a little more than thirty minutes after that, Honolulu will be hit. I will be updating the warning immediately after I’m done here.”

One of the new arrivals, Chet Herman, spoke up. “Shouldn’t you wait for the governor—”

“No. She’ll make another announcement later, but it’ll be at least fifteen minutes before she gets here and has a script in hand. As it is, we basically have to write off the Big Island. Nobody in this room should spend any more time on it.”

There was murmuring at that.

“I know it seems heartless, but I don’t think we have enough time to coordinate anything from here. They’ll have to take the warning and do their best. We’ll concentrate on Oahu.”

Some of them nodded. With this kind of crisis, the objective was to save as many as possible. Eighty percent of the state’s population was concentrated here. There was still time to accomplish something on Oahu.

Renfro had no idea whether people would pay attention to the new warning. The previous plans that had been broadcast were now useless or, even worse, dangerous. If the populace didn’t listen to his instructions, thousands would needlessly die.

Cathy Aiko raised her hand.

“What do you want me on?” she said.

“Cathy, you need to call all the hotels and get them to evacuate the tourists. Vertical evacuation is out of the question at this point.”

The newest hotels and office buildings were constructed to withstand anything that was within the reasonable realm of possibility, including resisting 150-mile-per-hour hurricane winds with no more than a slight sway. The lower floors would allow the water from a storm surge or tsunami to pass through the building and blow out the back wall, so that the water pressure would not put undue structural stress on the load-bearing systems.

But no building was built to bear the impact of a twenty-story wall of water. For a wave that tall, the structure would have to survive fifty thousand tons of pressure, the weight of one hundred fully loaded 747s. Most buildings would simply collapse when the lower floors buckled, if they weren’t completely torn apart. Fleeing to a higher floor would be no refuge.

The obstacles to getting the population to safety in such a short amount of time were too numerous for Renfro to address. After his announcement was made, many roads would become completely jammed with vehicles, despite their pleas to flee on foot. The traffic would make it that much more difficult for emergency vehicles and buses to evacuate those who couldn’t walk.

Which led to the next problem: evacuating low-lying hospitals and nursing homes.

Renfro pointed at the last newcomer, Thomas Kamala. “Tom, you coordinate with The Queen’s Medical Center. They need to get everyone out. They might have a little more time. They won’t be hit until we get a third or fourth wave. Make sure Tripler is ready for them. You also need to alert all of the nursing homes.”