Boyd Morrison - The Tsunami Countdown

Brad leapt onto the bike and revved the engine. Kai tentatively threw his leg over the tiny pad of leather that qualified as the backseat.

“Where do I put my feet?” Kai said.

“Man, you really have never ridden one of these before.”

“I wouldn’t be now if it weren’t an emergency.”

“Just put your feet on the dead pedals back there and put your arms around my waist.”

“Just tell me if you can’t breathe.”

“I’ll be fine, but I’m going to have to do some tricky driving if we’re going to get there in time. By the way, where are we going? We need a boat if we’re going out into the bay, and mine’s in my driveway.”

“I have an idea. Go to the Grand Hawaiian. I’ll explain on the way.”

“With the wind noise, we won’t be able to talk much. Explain when we get there. Hang on tight. If you fall off, I’ll stop and get you.”

Kai didn’t appreciate Brad’s sense of humor. Kai had never ridden a motorcycle and didn’t want to. But his determination to find his daughter was stronger than his terror of riding 140 horsepower of exposed metal when, in an impact with even a Mini, the Harley would lose.

As Brad gunned the engine and roared off, Kai gripped him like a vine wrapped around an oak, the cell phone clenched in one hand. The g-forces were incredible, but surprisingly, Kai didn’t feel in danger of falling off the bike. He did feel like throwing up, but at least that was something he had control over.

Kai reluctantly loosened his right hand and felt for the keypad on the phone as they whipped through the gate and turned onto Fort Weaver Road, the main drag leading to the H1. Cars packed the road, but the traffic moved steadily, albeit slowly. In a few seconds they caught up with the news van and passed it like it was standing still.

Kai punched in the speed dial number for the West Coast/Alaska Tsunami Warning Center. All he got was an out-of-range beep. As he expected, the cell phone lines were stretched to the limit with people calling loved ones about the oncoming tsunami.

The road turned north and they ran into more traffic, moving at no more than ten miles per hour. Brad swung the motorcycle onto the shoulder and rocketed forward at an insane speed only inches from the cars on their left. Occasionally they would hit a patch of sand or a bump, and Kai would feel the bike skid a little. He glanced over Brad’s shoulder. The speedometer hovered around sixty.

Kai hit redial on the cell phone again and again. After at least seven tries, he finally heard the call go through. The director, Frank Manetti, answered. He must have had caller ID, because Kai didn’t have to say anything before Manetti spoke.

“Kai, is that you?”

Even with the helmet, the wind noise buffeted Kai’s ears, but he could still hear Manetti’s voice easily over the headset. He silently thanked Reggie.

“Yes, it’s me,” Kai said.

“What’s that noise? I can barely hear you.”

“It’s the wind. Did you get the latest readings from the DART buoy?”

“What?”

“The DART buoy!” Kai shouted.

“We sure as hell did. That’s a monster of a wave headed your way.”

Kai had to let Manetti know that he had left the PTWC and that Manetti was now in charge of the only operating warning center. Not only that, but HSCD wouldn’t get any new warnings until Palmer took over. Kai hadn’t taken the time to call Renfro before they left to let him know that they were going off-line.

“Listen, Frank, you need to take over now.”

“Say that again, Kai? I didn’t get that.”

Kai raised his voice as loud as he could. “I said you’re going to have to—”

Brad turned his head left to look for cross traffic at an intersection. He didn’t see the Volkswagen Beetle with the enormous surfboard tied to the roof turn in front of them.

Kai reached up with both hands and pushed Brad’s head down just as they passed under the surfboard, which barely missed decapitating both of them. The board grazed his hand, knocking the cell phone into the air. It clattered as it bounced once and then smashed into the curb, shattering into pieces.

“Dammit!” Kai yelled as he flexed his stinging hand.

“That was close!” Brad shouted over his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I dropped my phone!”

“I’ve got one. Do you want me to stop so you can use it?” He started to slow down.

Brad’s telephone was virtually useless to Kai, because he didn’t know anyone’s number from memory—not the warning center in Palmer, not Hawaii State Civil Defense, not even Reggie’s. It was all in his cell phone address book, which was now destroyed.

The only alternative was to turn back and find the TV van again to tell Reggie that he hadn’t been able to complete the transition. It might be an hour before Reggie was able to get to Wheeler and establish contact with everyone—critical time when additional information from the DART buoy would not be getting to HSCD or other Pacific island nations.

But if they turned around now, it would add at least ten minutes to their ride to Waikiki. They’d never get there in time.

Kai felt Brad downshift, and the bike slowed.

“No!” Kai yelled. “We don’t have time! Keep going!”

Brad revved the engine, and soon they were up to seventy.

In another minute they had reached the entrance ramp for the H1. It was clogged with cars and buses. But there was enough room for a motorcycle to get through on the shoulder, and in no time they were cruising along at eighty.

10:59 a.m.

23 Minutes to Wave Arrival Time

As they rounded Diamond Head, Lani’s attention was drawn to a big commotion along Kalakaua Avenue, which was even more jammed than usual. From their position a mile out in Waikiki Bay near Kuhio Beach, she could see people running in both directions. Few were left on the beach. “Mia,” she said, pointing, “what’s going on over there?”

The two boys also followed her finger.

“I don’t know,” Mia said tersely. Her face had turned ashen.

“Are you okay?”

Mia nodded, but Lani recognized seasickness when she saw it.

“Is there a parade today?” Jake asked.

“Not that I know of.”

Tom shook his head in puzzlement as well.

“Well, something’s going on.”

Across Waikiki Bay at the Ala Wai marina, a huge number of boats streamed from the harbor at a pace that seemed frantic. In fact, it looked as if two of the boats had collided, although they were so far away, it was hard to tell for sure.

Then there was the large number of aircraft. First, the low-flying plane that had passed over them. Then a news helicopter that seemed to be training its camera on them. That one Lani had waved to. Now it seemed like another small plane was headed in their direction. Within another few seconds she thought she heard a voice coming from the plane. It turned and began to circle them, and the voice became clearer. There was one word that was unmistakable:

“… a tsunami warning has been issued for Hawaii. You must head for shore immediately and get to high ground. I repeat, a tsunami warning has been issued for Hawaii. This is not a drill. You must get to land immediately. The wave will reach Honolulu in twenty-three minutes. If you understand this warning, raise both your arms and wave .”

All four of them looked at each other and then started waving their arms frantically while still holding their paddles. The plane waggled its wings and banked toward a group of surfers about five hundred yards away.

“Why didn’t we hear the sirens?” Jake said.

“We’re too far from the beach,” Lani said. “The wind is blowing in that direction.”