“—After it happened.”
“They went off?”
“Hundreds of them.”
“How bloody awful!”
“It’s every bit of that.”
“Did they use planes?”
“No. The whole thing was land-based.”
“How did they do it?”
“Embedding explosives in the rocks.”
“Do they know who’s responsible?”
“Muslim separatists.”
“How extensive is the damage?”
“Massive. They hit both sides.”
“What about the debris?”
“The channel isn’t passable.”
“The G-forces must’ve been huge.”
“Did you get the magnetometer strips?”
“Yeah. I’ve reviewed the originals and the follow-ups—”
“Good. Are the pulses—”
“—But I didn’t know about the attack or the damage.”
“Rocky’s boss told him to keep it quiet.”
“We need to talk about him.”
“Not today. How concerning are the magnetics?”
“When viewed in isolation—which is what I did—they could’ve been an artifact or benign. But based on what you’ve told me—”
“We’re going to have a major earthquake.”
“That’s the only reasonable conclusion.”
“Call your mother. Tell her not to come.”
“It’s too late. She turned off her phone.”
“Are you sure?”
“I heard the hostie remind her.”
The lamp chain is jiggling.
Brannigan hasn’t noticed. He’s bent over his desk concentrating on the computer screen, a few clicks short of purchasing Yichangto-Sydney plane tickets. His next keystroke—selecting tomorrow as their departure date—is his last. The laptop whizzes by his head and smashes into the wall next to the kitchenette.
The über-tremor thrusts Brannigan into the middle of the room. He caroms off the couch and lands on his feet. Recalling the instructions from a California drill—drop, cover, and hold on—he hurries over to the desk. It’s still intact. After turning it right side up, he hits his watch timer and crawls underneath. He completes his preparation by tucking his body inside the perimeter and grabbing the desk’s left-sided legs.
The desk continues moving but he maintains his grip and keeps it from flipping. The tremors are nonstop. The furniture and appliances—they’re not attached to the walls—are fully depreciated fifty seconds after the strong motion began. Small projectiles find their way into his space. None strike him with any force.
Something heavy crashes onto the desk. The object perforates the surface—the gouge is at hip level—but doesn’t go deeper. He sees what caused the damage. His file cabinet, minus the drawers, is rebounding off the floor. Its second bounce crushes the commemorative snow globe Rocky gave him. His folders and documents are scattered all over the room.
Today’s eruption—vertical thrusts seem to predominate—is more powerful and has lasted much longer than the earlier R-6.5. He looks out and assesses the structural damage. The floor is warped and split apart. The window is shattered, and the refrigerator crushed the kitchen sink. Ceiling tiles are everywhere. The walls are cattywampus and look like they’ve been hit by a wrecking ball.
He’s calmer this time around. That strikes him as strange. This eruption is much worse in every respect. He tries to figure out why he’s reacting differently. He doesn’t think biofeedback deserves the credit. He used the same technique both times. He decides that the only significant difference is his condition going into each eruption. Normal versus half dead. Right now, he can’t feel much of anything.
The shaking weakens and stops. He crawls out from under his desk and inventories his belongings. His closet collapsed and the dresser broke into several pieces. Many of his clothes are soiled, torn, or otherwise damaged. His computer and other hard-surface items are cracked and splintered. He doesn’t have to open the door when he leaves his room. The tremors tossed it onto his bed.
He calls Kylie as he walks toward the control center. She wasn’t hurt. The shaking was much milder at the airport. Its terminal and runways are intact.
The earthquake knocked the Edison out of Three Gorges Dam.
Brannigan enters what’s left of the control room. Most of its equipment is nonoperational. Rocky is on the phone talking with an engineer manning the top deck. He finishes the conversation with, “Are you sure?” . . . “I’ll be right there.”
“What’s going on?” Brannigan asks.
“The wall is taking a beating.”
“Let’s have a look.”
“Stay here, Michael.”
“Don’t go up there alone.”
“We may not be coming down.”
“That bad?”
“It couldn’t be much worse.”
The entire top deck is flooded.
When they get off the elevator, the water is knee-deep and rising. A wave crashes over the west wall. The water surges to the other side, jumps the east retaining wall, and flows down the airface. Rocky expands on a question he asked on the way up. “How much overtop-ping can we handle?”
Brannigan has dealt with runoff at other dams. But never anything this severe. He knows his answer is only an educated guess. “Very little. The headcutting keeps moving higher. Eventually the reservoir will have bigger muscles than the concrete.”
Rocky walks toward the west edge. Brannigan grabs his arm.
“Where are you going?”
“To get a closer look.”
“You’re asking for trouble.”
“The waves are slowing down.”
“That won’t last.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“If we’re going,” Brannigan says, “let’s hurry.”
They poke their heads over the west retaining wall. The chest-high slab is all that separates them from the reservoir.
Brannigan ruffles Rocky’s hair. “So much for your lull.”
“These waves are huge. Where are they coming from?”
“Xiling Gorge. This is 1985 all over again.”
Brannigan shifts his gaze outward. “Check out that monster.”
“Which one?”
“At the end of the last set.”
“I thought that was two waves.”
“Farther back it probably was.”
“Can we get to the elevator in time?”
Brannigan turns and checks the distance. “Maybe.”
The surge from another wave knocks them down. Brannigan blows out a snootful of water one nostril at a time. Some of the water Rocky took in went down his airway. His voice has a croaky, amphibious sound.
“The storm keeps getting worse.”
“Unless that changes, we’ll wind up in Shanghai.”
The next swell is higher and stronger. Brannigan is bowled over again. His chest strikes one of the fences surrounding the gate-access slots. The rush weakens and he regains his feet. Rocky freestyles over to him. Between breaths, noise is coming out of his mouth. But he’s gurgling more than talking. Brannigan tries to piece the words together. He thinks he heard, “What should we do?”
“Going back isn’t the solution.”
Brannigan points to where the wall used to be. The entire slab is gone. All that’s left is a mangled edge. He doesn’t look up until the westerly spray stings his face. That’s when he sees it. The freak wave is directly overhead.
He yells at Rocky, “Stay low and hug the pavement,” then drops to his knees. He watches the wave as it moves higher. It’s cresting ten meters above the dam. When the apex begins to curl, he dives into the standing water and covers his head. He holds his breath as the wave breaks apart and crashes over him.
Brannigan flips and flails inside the churn. The water is dark and foamy. He keeps his eyes open but can’t see the east retaining wall. He extends his arms hoping his hands, not his head
, will stop him. His fists strike the slab. The concrete is intact and prevents him from going over the side. He pivots to the left, presses his feet against the wall, and pushes off. The surf weakens and the engineers slosh toward each other.
“What do we do now?” Rocky asks.
“Get off the summit.”
“How? The elevator and stairs aren’t safe.”
“I didn’t say it would be easy.”
Rocky’s emergency team is managing the crisis outdoors.
Two of his engineers volunteered to stay in the gutted computer room. They’re forwarding data to the new command center on Tanzi Ridge. Brannigan has just returned from a trip to his room. He was there long enough to peel off his wet clothes, clean up, and change dressings.
His bloody gauze was saturated with reservoir filth. He stuffed everything—gauze, clothes, and shoes—into the bathroom trash can. The reservoir contaminated his shoulder and there was no longer a reason to avoid showering. He washed his entry and exit wounds with soapy water, put on a fresh bandage, and got dressed.
The computer room just sent the latest seismic information. Rocky summarizes the key points. “Peak tremors reached 8.6. The shaking lasted almost three minutes.”
Brannigan whistles at the numbers. “Are you sure about the amplitude?”
Rocky looks at the backup data. “It came from multiple sites.”
“Where was the epicenter?”
“Twenty-five kilometers west.”
Brannigan doesn’t need to run any numbers. It’s ballgame over.
He hooks Rocky’s arm and they separate from the group.
“I need your help, Rock.”
“With what?”
“Kylie.”
“What’s the matter?”
“She’s at the airport.”
“Tell her to get out of there.”
“She’s waiting for her mother’s plane.”
“Is it in the air?”
“She thinks it just took off.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Get the flight diverted.”
“That’s next to impossible.”
“Not if you’re the one asking.”
“Which carrier?”
“Shanghai Air.”
“It’s a long shot. But I’ll do my best.”
“Tell the airline I’ll make things right.”
Brannigan is watching reservoir water overtop the summit.
He’s also concerned about their computer capability. The hardware has been flickering. When it happens again, he asks Rocky, “How are the emergency generators holding up?”
“Barely. We can only run our basic systems.”
“Can you salvage the building?”
Rocky responds with a downcast shrug.
Brannigan ekes out a faint smile. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“It would cost less to build a new one.”
“How many workers were hurt?”
“There are lots of cuts and bruises. We also have a concussion, an eye injury, and a few broken bones. When things quiet down, I’ll be sending several people to the hospital—including you.”
Rocky’s ringtone goes off. He hands Brannigan a printout before taking the call.
“We emailed this to the downriver cities and towns.”
Due to a terrorist attack, Three Gorges Dam has been seriously damaged. If the dam fails, everything near the Yangzi River is in danger of being destroyed by a flood. You should immediately evacuate to higher ground as far away from the river as possible.
Brannigan agrees with the warning. But the late timing and lack of an evacuation plan trouble him. If there’s a catastrophic failure, he doubts many people will get away in time. Rocky is off the phone. “ATC diverted Ms. Herzog’s flight.”
“Where’s it going?”
“Hangzhou.”
“Thanks, Rock. I owe you one.”
Brannigan steps away to call Kylie.
“How’s my girl?”
“Peachy keen.”
“They diverted your mother’s plane.”
“Are you sure? The arrival screen hasn’t changed.”
“Rocky just spoke to ATC.”
“Make sure to thank him for me.”
“Now it’s your turn. Leave the airport.”
“Where are you?”
“The Ridge—but not for long.”
“Where are you going?”
“Where do you think?”
“To protect Teddy and my mother.”
“They’re safe. I’m coming for you.”
“Shouldn’t you stay at the dam?”
“I’ll fly back when you’re high and dry.”
“Where’s Teddy going?”
“Hangzhou.”
“How far is that from the river?”
“KY-LIE!”
“Don’t be angry.”
“We don’t have time for this.”
“Please tell me.”
“Two hundred kilometers.”
“My mother will be worried sick.”
“Sweetheart, follow my instructions.”
“What if something—”
“They have clear skies and plenty of fuel.”
“All right . . . What should I do?”
“Go north. If you see a gas station—”
“My car is back at the hotel.”
“Didn’t you drive to the airport?”
“The darn thing wouldn’t start.”
“How did you get there?”
“I rode with one of the guys.”
“What about his car?”
“He turned it in.”
“How were you getting back?”
“Taxi.”
“That’ll work.”
“All the cabs are long gone.”
“Rent a car.”
“It’s too late. The agencies are sold out.”
“Can you hitch a ride?”
“This place is like a ghost town.”
“No problem. I’m on my way.”
Rocky comes over when Brannigan finishes his call.
“Is Kylie still there?”
“Yeah. I’m flying down to get her.”
“Take the 429.”
“I’ll be fine in a Raven.”
“The Bell is much better in weather.”
“What if you need it?”
“I’m here for the duration.”
“Once I drop Kylie off, so am I.”
“Call me first.”
“I signed on for this.”
“Like I said—”
“You’ll need the help.”
“We’ll talk about that later.”
“Who else is staying?”
“I’m packing them all off.”
“You can’t stay here by yourself—”
“Be extra cautious around Yichang.”
“Don’t change the subject. Promise me—”
“Have you heard about the Oriental Star?”
“Just that it was a weird deal.”
“It capsized when a tornado crossed the Yangzi.”
“How close to the airport?”
“Downriver, but not by much.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
“Did you tell Kylie you were shot?”
“Not yet. I didn’t want to upset her.”
“Then you better change your shirt.”
“I just did. Brannigan tries but can’t rotate his neck downward or to the left. “What’s the matter with it?”
“Your shoulder is redder than the Bell.”
CHAPTER 50
HE RESISTS THE urge to look back.
All that matters is his flight to Yichang Airport. Brannigan is weak and fading fast. He knows he’ll have to dig deep to get there.
Rocky assigned an engineer to drive him to the helipad. But the Double E couldn’t finish the trip. He took an incoming call, jammed on the brakes, and rushed back to Tanzi Ridge. Brannigan is completing his
journey on foot.
The Bell 429 comes into view. He tries to pick up the pace but can’t. It’s hard enough just staying upright. He’s trudging along when his left leg gives out. Stumbling forward, he loses his balance and falls to the pavement. Brannigan assumes the culprit is his arthritic knee. That was before he felt the ground shaking again.
He’s lying on his left side rubbing his chest. Other than a bruised sternum and a few scrapes—the worst are on his hands—he wasn’t injured when he hit the concrete. The aftershock only lasts a few seconds. It’s over by the time he turns over and sits up on his haunches. The fall turned him around and he winds up looking at the dam after all. The giant wall blocks everything else. It seems different today. Vulnerable, on the ropes, no longer the leviathan of Communist lore.
The engorged clouds have opened wide. The rain was bouncing off the pavement until the wind increased. Now it’s coming down in diagonal sheets. Bolts of lilac-tinged lightning illuminate the sky. A thunderous boom follows each of the jagged streaks, reminders of what awaits him when the Bell becomes airborne.
A young woman is running toward him. When he shifts his gaze to the summit, he knows why she’s hysterical. The top of the wall is teetering. One after another, large sections of concrete are falling into the Yangzi. He can’t believe what he’s seeing. The dam is collapsing faster than he could break down a Lego set.
He’s breathing hard when he hops into the helicopter. There isn’t time for his preflight routine. He powers up, checks the gauges, and lifts off. The Bell gains altitude as it circles the helipad. He straightens out the nose and points the helicopter due east.
His visual acuity has deteriorated since he left the Ridge. So has his depth perception. Stars are flashing in both eyes and he has tunnel vision in his right. The sky has gone from light gray to charcoal. Behind him the western horizon is black. He worries the decrease in ambient light will make his vision even worse. It’s already difficult to read the instrument panel.
The wind is his biggest concern. It was twenty knots at ground level, gusting to twenty-five. He expects that to increase inside the storm. Although he’s instrument rated, Brannigan is far more comfortable flying VFR. He parks his helicopter at the slightest hint of bad weather. He has never flown in New York on a day like this.
He’s five hundred meters above the Yangzi when a downdraft pounds the cockpit. The gust catches Brannigan by surprise. By the time he reacts, the wind shear has already disappeared. He was going to call Kylie but doesn’t want to frighten her. He’ll wait until he has a better fix on the weather.
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