Boyd Morrison - The Tsunami Countdown

Finally, the camera had panned far enough as it followed the wave so that the shore was in view, but without houses or other buildings for comparison, it still looked unimpressive. The two people on the cliff’s edge must have thought so, too, since they didn’t move.

But when the wave broke against the rocks, Teresa realized that they weren’t going to make it. She expected the wave to bounce against the rocks and reflect back into the ocean. Instead, it simply covered the rocks and continued to sweep up the cliff. Too late, the hikers realized the size of the wave and turned to run. Before they could get more than a few steps, the wave washed over them, and they disappeared as if they were ants being washed down a drain.

Teresa gasped, and the saleswoman started to cough uncontrollably.

“Are you all right?” Teresa asked.

“Swallowed … my … gum,” the saleswoman said between coughs.

Teresa ran out of the store, leaving the saleswoman to fumble with her keys, intent on locking the door to a store that would soon no longer exist.

10:41 a.m.

41 Minutes to Wave Arrival Time

The established procedure of the tsunami warning system included notifying the Civil Air Patrol, an auxiliary of the U.S. Air Force that flew search-and-rescue missions and other operations that the military and government didn’t have the resources to do on their own. In the event of a tsunami warning, their duty was simple. Offshore and in remote locations, it was likely that surfers and boaters would not hear the sirens. Helicopters and planes that were equipped with loudspeakers would fly over the coastlines, broadcasting the warning. Each aircraft was responsible for a particular section of the coastline.

During past tsunami warnings, the CAP had met with moderate success. In many cases, the surfers would heed the warnings and paddle in to shore. But there were plenty of others who just waved at the aircraft, obviously enjoying the chance to say they had surfed a tsunami.

One of the CAP volunteers, an eager nineteen-yearold pilot named Matthew Perkins, flew a Cessna outfitted with a loudspeaker that he had installed himself. Although he had tested it extensively on the ground at Hickam, he hadn’t had an opportunity to drill with it yet. The tsunami warning would be his first chance to try it in action.

He had made all the required preflight checks and then took off from the runway that Hickam Air Base shared with Honolulu International. It only took him a few minutes to get to his designated patrol area along Waikiki Beach.

Off the coast of Diamond Head, Lani and Mia continued paddling alongside their two new friends. The view from this far out was spectacular. Lani was having a great time, but Mia was struggling.

After having paddled all the way to Sans Souci Beach, Mia had gotten tired and asked the rest of them if they could turn back. Although Lani was getting sore, she could have gone on awhile longer and was disappointed Mia had given up so soon.

The breeze had picked up, and the previously calm water now rocked their kayaks on undulating waves. At the rate they were paddling, their tired arms would take another half hour at least to get them back to their starting point on Waikiki.

Lani was surprised to see all kinds of aircraft buzzing around. Tourist, news, and military helicopters were everywhere—way more than usual.

Then she heard a small plane approach. It was flying parallel to the beach, almost as if it were coming in for a landing, but the runway was miles away.

“What is that guy doing?” Tom said.

“I don’t know,” Jake said.

“Is he going to crash?” Mia asked.

“No, look,” Lani said, “he’s just flying straight and level.”

“Then what’s he doing?”

As it got closer, Lani could hear words cutting in and out. She couldn’t understand what was being said. In between the words, there was nothing but static.

“It’s probably just some kind of advertisement,” Tom said.

“Yeah,” Jake said, “but the doofus’s speaker is broken or something.”

Lani heard a word more distinctly.

“Did he say onami ?” she said.

“See,” Tom said. “It’s probably Konami . That’s a video game company. It’s an ad.”

“Well, it’s not working,” Jake said.

The plane passed over them two more times, but they ignored the annoying whine of the engine and kept paddling lazily back to Waikiki.

10:43 a.m.

39 Minutes to Wave Arrival Time

As Reggie analyzed the data from the DART buoy, Kai had been keeping an eye on the evacuation via one of the cable channels and was horrified by what he had seen. On most channels, the Emergency Alert System broadcast was being repeated over and over. In the last few minutes a new warning from the governor had been broadcast, perhaps to give the warning more weight, but the content wasn’t significantly changed from the one Brian Renfro had so powerfully relayed. There was still no mention of a meteor impact, and that may have been one reason that so many people were either ignoring the warning or were confused about what to do.

About ten minutes before, Kai had begun watching the TV more closely because he wanted to see how the evacuation was progressing. He tuned to the national MSNBC feed, which didn’t broadcast the EAS warning because their main audience was the continental United States. The network relayed the feed from one of their affiliate’s local Honolulu camera crews.

A reporter standing on Waikiki Beach motioned to the scene behind him. Some people ran in panic. Packed with cars, the road along the beach moved so slowly that the vehicles were almost idling. Many more cars could be seen trying to merge into the traffic from the garages of hotels lining the strip. Police attempted to direct the traffic at several of the intersections, but the sheer volume made it virtually impossible for the vehicles to make headway.

Still other people strolled along the beach completely unperturbed by the evacuation. The reporter, his close-cropped hair rigidly resisting the wind swaying the trees behind him, stopped an obese man in swim trunks and a towel slung over his shoulder.

“Sir,” the reporter said, “you don’t seem particularly concerned by the tsunami warning. Can I ask why?”

The man shook his head dismissively. “It seems like we get these warnings once a year. I just wait until about fifteen minutes before the wave is supposed to get here, and then I head back to my condo.”

“Your condo?”

“Yeah, it’s right over there,” the obese man said, pointing at a white building behind him. “Eight stories up with a great view of the beach, so I just watch from there. Usually there isn’t much to see, but hey, maybe today will be different.”

“You sound like you consider it entertainment.”

“Well, it’d be pretty amazing to see a real tsunami, don’t you think? But I’m sure this is another false alarm.”

“Are you aware that the warning now says the wave could be two hundred feet high?”

“That’s just crazy. What are the chances of that?”

The man continued his walk, leaving the reporter to head over to a Lexus SUV, one of the cars making tortured progress along Kalakaua Avenue. In the background, along with a few individuals running in terror, crowds of people could be seen walking leisurely along the street, as if they were being herded in a particular direction by some unseen guide. Kai found the scene infuriating, but he knew it was typical behavior in an evacuation.

The Lexus owner, a deeply tanned man in a tank top and a hideous comb-over, had his window down. His eyes kept darting in the direction of the ocean as he talked. At first, Kai thought he was concerned that the tsunami might come in while he was still in his car.