Fault Lines

by D. J. McCune

  Adam stared blindly ahead of him. Nothing was happening. Kenai had resumed his speech, giving them nothing more than a hostile glance. He was telling them where they should put their bags once they were inside and people were wearily grabbing their rucksacks again and … nothing was happening! Adam swivelled his head towards Spike and made a sharp, questioning movement with his hand. Spike glared at him and mouthed a single word: Wait.

  The girls at the front of the group were stepping through the steel doors, into the processing plant. There was a chorus of squeals as the fish and diesel stench intensified around them. Adam’s stomach lurched. He was going to throw up. It hadn’t worked. All of it had been wasted and in eighteen minutes hundreds or thousands of people would be dead.

  And then there was a sound. A low crackle and groan brought the speakers in the yard to life. People stopped and turned. The groan became louder, wailing, a high siren calling out a warning, rising and falling, then looping over again. Everyone stopped. Kenai was staring at the speaker with his mouth slightly open. From inside, two men in boiler suits and hard hats stepped through the doors and spoke to him in rapid Japanese. Adam heard the word before anyone else even registered.

  Kenai turned to them with an odd expression. ‘A tsunami warning has been issued. We must move to higher ground. There is no need for panic but we must move swiftly.’

  ‘A what warning?’ The Bulb was blinking stupidly.

  Kenai gave him a cool glance. ‘There has been an earthquake, perhaps out beneath the sea. It may cause a tsunami. There is a plan that we must all follow. At once.’

  ‘Do you mean a tidal wave?’ The Bulb bellowed.

  He might as well have shouted ‘Alien invasion’. There was a moment of horrified silence, quickly followed by a crescendo of screams and swearing. At the same time the steel doors opened again and the workers inside flooded out of the building and began walking swiftly through the yard. Some of them paused and talked to Kenai, gesturing to the rucksacks. Kenai hesitated, then nodded and some of the men seized the Bonehill bags from the girls.

  Kenai raised his voice over the chaos. ‘The workers will help you with your belongings.’

  And then they were moving. Adam hardly dared to look around him. His head was swirling with relief and when he looked at Spike he found him grinning back. As they reached the gate they turned right instead of left and crossed the road, following a track winding its way up towards the tall white building behind the processing plant. They weren’t alone. Dozens of Hachimana’s inhabitants were appearing, filling the streets, their faces anxious and questioning. As they walked the convoy behind them grew. On this part of Japan’s coast, the city centre was simply a narrow strip perched on a flat ledge before the ground rose up steeply behind.

  Within minutes they were standing outside the glossy, white research building. Kenai gestured them to one side. For the first time he looked stressed. Adam almost felt sorry for him. He had a feeling the Japanese man was more used to dealing with Murai’s whims, rather than a group of teenagers. It must be bad enough getting foisted with a group of foreign school kids at the best of times, never mind when you thought you might have to get them through a natural disaster unscathed.

  Dan and Archie drew up alongside Adam. Dan was wheezing for breath and threw his rucksack on the ground, reaching for his inhaler. Adam felt a moment of guilt – until he remembered that he had at least given Dan a chance to get to high ground. All the other people who might have struggled to get there had been given a head start. It was all he could do for them.

  Some of the research centre reception staff had come out of the building and were directing local people inside. There was the large entrance foyer with the metal staircases on either side. It was weird seeing it here in real life, not that he had ever doubted his premonition. The stream of residents seemed never ending. Archie was staring round with his mouth open. ‘How are we all going to fit in?’

  Spike’s grin had disappeared. He was scowling now. He stood beside Adam and muttered, ‘What are they all doing here? I thought it would just be us and the people from the fish-guts plant. They’re never going to let us all inside.’

  Adam shrugged. ‘This must be an evacuation point for everyone.’ He pointed along the road to the right, where another tall building could be seen. ‘Probably people are going there too.’

  ‘Well you could have at least found out that everyone would come here before I did the hack,’ Spike snarled.

  Adam didn’t answer. For a second he hated Spike – until he reminded himself that his friend didn’t know there was going to be a tsunami. He looked around at the constant stream of people being directed into the building. No one was running. No one was panicking. If anything, people were looking confused.

  Adam moved closer to Kenai who was talking rapidly in Japanese, frowning. Mr Fenton, who had been uncharacte‌ristically quiet, stepped up beside their guide and waited for him to turn, looking irate. ‘Is this a real alert or a false alarm? Because I thought an earthquake big enough to cause a tsunami would be felt here on land or be so far out at sea that we could be waiting here for hours.’

  Kenai’s frown deepened. ‘Obviously there can sometimes be false alarms but it is better to be safe I think. We have contacted the Japan Meterological Association for more information. They are the body with responsibility for tsunami warnings. Please keep your students together.’

  Adam chewed his lip. He’d forgotten that in between rants Fenton was a geography teacher and probably did actually know something about tsunamis. He glanced at his phone screen, feeling sick. 11:01. Seven minutes till the tsunami hit. He glanced sideways at Spike. He was crouching on the ground, typing ferociously. Something about his expression made Adam uneasy. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Cancelling the alert. This whole thing was a waste of time. We’re not getting any tour of the research lab.’

  ‘Don’t cancel the alert.’ There was a ringing sound in Adam’s ears.

  Spike glared at him, then nodded towards some of the elderly people who were being helped up the hill by friends and family members. ‘Look, it was a good idea but it didn’t work out. And people are being evacuated for nothing. Little grannies will be dropping dead all over Japan if we make them run up big hills for a tsunami that doesn’t exist.’

  ‘DON’T CANCEL THE ALERT.’ It was too loud and people were looking round but Adam didn’t care. They had come this far. It was nearly OK.

  Spike ignored him. He was typing very fast again. He wasn’t listening and Adam didn’t have time to make him listen. Instead, he made him stop typing. He bent down, grabbed Spike’s laptop and wrenched it from his friend’s grip.

  Spike was staring at him. ‘What are you doing? Give me my laptop.’ He scrambled to his feet and grabbed the casing. He pulled it away from Adam, cursed at him and turned away, ready to resume typing – until Adam took hold of it, pulled it away and this time threw it. There was a moment in slow motion where they both watched it arcing away through the air, the sunlight glinting on the metal casing, before it crashed to the ground.

  Spike’s mouth had fallen open. ‘What the fuck are you doing? What did you do to my laptop?!’

  Adam didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

  The ground began to shake.

  Chapter 24

  hen the earthquake struck, Adam felt something bizarrely close to relief. It was happening. The whole thing was finally happening. His bit was over. Now it was up to every person to survive as best they could.

  The shaking started small, just a tremble beneath their feet. Then it intensified, fast, and then again. The people who were still walking up the hill stopped and staggered, a few falling to the ground. There were screams all around Adam. He grabbed Spike’s arm and dragged him to the ground even as Kenai bellowed, ‘Get down!’

  The screaming wasn’t the only thing they could hear. The buildings all around them were juddering and dozens of alarms were blaring from homes and businesses
along the main street. They could hear the rattle of thousands of objects vibrating in unison – cars bouncing on their wheels, windows shaking in frames, and from inside the building the sound of furniture juddering across the tiled floor. Through the glass doors Adam could see people cowering in the doorways and sheltering beneath the metal staircases. The ground shook harder and a second later the doors and windows shattered, glass shards exploding out of frames and scattering along the ground. Part of the plasterboard ceiling collapsed and there were more screams. Now the people inside the building were trying to get back outside.

  ‘Move away from the walls,’ Kenai shouted. He scuttled along the ground like a crab and Adam did the same. Dozens, then hundreds of people were scrambling out into the open lane where there was no danger of falling objects. Adam looked left and his eyes hooked on a crack where the asphalt road met plain dirt. The road was moving away from the raw earth and then back again, with a weird, whispering groan, barely audible. Adam imagined it yawning open, swallowing people whole and then snapping closed again forever.

  It didn’t happen. The earthquake continued, not subsiding but not getting stronger. People had fallen silent. A few had managed to pull out mobile phones and started recording footage. There was one sharp jolt that sent a fresh wave of screams through the crowd, then the shaking began to diminish. After another minute it tailed off. Adam looked around with the same stunned eyes he could see on everyone else’s faces. They were all still alive. He didn’t know if anyone inside had been injured but as the shaking subsided more Japanese workers and locals were running out through the empty frame that had housed the doors.

  ‘Is everyone OK?’ It was Fenton to the rescue again. The Bulb staggered to his feet beside him, looking like a man who had just witnessed the end of the world.

  You haven’t even seen the half of it, Adam thought.

  The alarms were still blaring all around them, including the tsunami sirens. Fenton was staring at the loudspeakers and frowning. ‘There must have been another earthquake at sea, before the one here. That must have been what set the first alarms off.’

  Kenai was holding a walkie-talkie and speaking very fast. ‘No one must leave this area. The earthquakes were powerful enough to cause a large tsunami. Everyone must stay here on high ground.’

  Now that the shaking had mostly stopped, more people were arriving with every minute that passed. Adam checked the screen on his mobile. It was 11:03. In five minutes the tsunami would strike the shore. He turned around, searching for his friends. He found Dan and Archie in the middle of an animated group, all of them talking at once, a few trying unsuccessfully to make phone calls and a couple still wiping shocked tears from their cheeks.

  There was only one person he couldn’t see. At last he spotted him, standing on the edge of the group, looking blankly back out to sea. Spike was cradling his fractured laptop under one arm, holding it close to his body. He didn’t look upset or frightened the way other people did. Instead he was very calm, but his eyes were far away. Adam recognised the look immediately and felt his chest tighten. This was the bit where Spike started trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

  He had to speak to him now, alone, before he came over and started asking questions or making accusations that everyone would hear. As Adam approached him, Spike turned and saw him. His face tightened and he stepped away.

  ‘Spike, wait.’

  ‘Don’t come any closer to me.’ He didn’t even sound like Spike, his voice was so flattened.

  Adam stopped and held up his hands, placating. ‘Look, I know it seems really weird, but I swear it was just a coincidence.’

  Spike laughed, one sharp bark. ‘You are so full of shit.’

  Adam paused. The thing with Spike was … you never knew what he would do next. How should he play this? Deny everything? Admit to half the truth? Pretend he was some kind of wonder boy who could see the future? ‘Look, I know you’re pissed off. But what you did today … you probably saved loads of people’s lives.’ He pointed at some of the most recent arrivals: women with babies in their arms, a man on crutches, another man pushing a wheelchair. ‘If the tsunami alarm had only just sounded, none of these people would have made it in time.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Spike was glaring at him but there was a thin, malicious smile on his lips. ‘There might not be a tsunami. And if there is it might not happen for hours. But I think you do know. So how long would they have had, Adam? How long would they have had to escape?’

  Adam met his stare. ‘About five minutes,’ he said quietly. He checked his phone one more time. ‘They would have one minute left from now. That’s all anyone would have had.’

  Spike looked like he was going to throw up. ‘Stay away from me,’ he hissed. He backed away from Adam, getting back to the safety of the group.

  There was a noise in the distance, like a train miles away but rattling closer. From here, they could see over the roofs of the houses and the low buildings of the fish-processing plant. The main street was hidden, bar small glimpses in the gaps between the buildings behind. But out beyond they could see the waters of the Pacific Ocean. The breeze was fresh and off shore some of the long waves rolling in had white caps, but even from here they could see out beyond what looked like a dark line on the surface of the water. It was moving slowly towards the land. As it got closer it began to crest like the other waves. There were shouts from up above and when they turned to look they could see some of the research and admin staff up on the roof, pointing out and shouting. Adam didn’t need to understand Japanese to know what they were talking about. One of the women had produced a small pair of binoculars while others were filming with their mobile phones.

  Adam turned back to the sea, watching the big waves break white, seeming to run over the rest of the waves. And then, as they got closer to the shore, they disappeared from view. It didn’t matter. Adam had seen what happened when they hit the street in his premonition. He had watched the waters burst through between the buildings and swirl up the street, gathering cars and signs and parts of buildings and sweeping through in a great, black, boiling mass, obliterating everything. The people on the roof must have been able to see some of what was happening because they were shrieking and calling out in Japanese, exclamations and little cries of horror.

  Were there any people left down there? Adam hoped not. He knew that Japanese people were cautious and had a healthy respect for earthquakes and their aftermath. He was sure that anyone who could get to higher ground had done so. There were more calls from the roof and when he looked back at the sea he could see more of the long white waves crashing towards the shore. The noise was louder too, even from this distance away: a roar, like a speeding train or a plane taking off, almost loud enough to drown out the car alarms and the crash of wood and masonry giving way before the water.

  And then, without warning, the water rose up and smashed through the fish-processing plant where they should have been standing. The buildings were light and prefabricated, a mixture of wood and metal sheeting, and the black torrent tore through them like paper. More screams rose up all around them as the building below lifted up from the ground, beginning to move with the current. The roar of water was indescribable. It was everywhere. Around him, people were turning and running, instinctively heading back towards higher ground, but Adam couldn’t tear his eyes away as the water poured up the driveway, obliterating the yard and the sheds where he had stood with Spike.

  ‘Get into the building and up the stairs,’ Kenai shrieked somewhere close by.

  It was Fenton who grabbed Adam, bellowing ‘Come on!’ while the water raced and churned along the road at the bottom of the steep lane to the research centre. It should have been filled with cars driving and people walking, not trees and houses. The sheer force of the torrent was beginning to drive the sea water up the lane, a lapping, encroaching tide of smashed-up cars and bits of boats and a million heavy, lethal pieces of debris moving towards them, each piece
acting like a domino, pushing the water and rubbish ever higher.

  ‘Come on!’ Fenton roared again and Adam finally came to his senses and ran. The entrance had turned into a free for all and the Bonehill rucksacks were causing chaos, people falling over them in their haste to get inside. They reached the shattered door frame and one of the receptionists grabbed Adam’s hand and pulled him left in the direction of one of the two staircases. He suddenly seemed to be surrounded by Japanese workers, with none of his friends in sight.

  He ran up the metal stairs as fast as he could, stumbling over abandoned coats and handbags and a hard hat which one of the processing plant workers must have dropped. Up one flight of stairs, then another. How far should he go? Up another flight, carried along in a human tide. His breath was sobbing in his chest but there was one more flight. There wasn’t much room now; the top floors were already crowded with people. He stopped, not sure where to go, and someone crashed into him from behind, sending him sprawling into the crowd.

  Adam staggered back to his feet, looking around wildly. Where should he go? He didn’t recognise anyone. From the edge of the landing he could see across the atrium and his school friends seemed to be over on the far side. The relief at seeing them was quickly followed by a question: how the hell was he going to get over to them?

  There were more screams and shouts and suddenly water was surging into the foyer below. Wood and steel and bits of unidentifiable stuff stacked up against the entrance, casting a dark shadow inside. Even from here it was clear that the water had lost its force. This was the maximum extent of its reach. Unless there were more waves to come or more big aftershocks, they were probably safe.

  Someone tapped his arm timidly. When he turned around one of the receptionists was smiling shyly at him. She pointed across the atrium. ‘Your friends are there.’