His was a typically-cluttered teenage boy's room with a life-sized poster of Michael Jordan on the wall, dirty dishes on shelves, scattered clothing, an unmade bed, a baseball on the floor, a basketball next to his chair, an exercise bike, and a CD player. Suddenly, his bedroom door flew open and his sister, Heather, burst in, "Seattle had an earthquake. It's on the news."
James grabbed the remote off his bed, turned the television on and flipped to a national news service. The announcer looked solemn and the words "breaking news" flashed across the screen. "I repeat, the USGS in Golden, Colorado is reporting a major earthquake in Seattle. The quake hit just a few minutes ago and tentatively measured 9.1 on the Richter scale. The Seattle Quake is the biggest quake to hit the United States since the 1964 Alaska quake. We have no reports of damage or injuries yet, but we'll keep you posted. Meanwhile…"
James turned the television off and tossed the remote back on his bed. Thoughtfully, he ran his hands through his short, brown hair, and then turned to stare at the High Frequency, Amateur Radio on his desk. It was off. He walked to the desk, pulled a chair out and sat down. With Heather watching his every move, he flipped the switch and began turning the large dial. Briefly, he listened to a conversation between two women discussing a recent trip to Hawaii. He dismissed them, turned the dial to the left and increased the volume. His lips parted and a single word escaped, "Max."
The same brown hair and eyes as her brother, Heather plopped down on the bed and crossed her long, skinny legs. "Who's Max?"
"A guy I know. He's got a radio station in Seattle. He'll know what's happening." James turned the dial, found the desired frequency and leaned closer to his mike. "W7LGF, this is KB7HDX." He waited, but Max didn't answer. "W7LGF, this is KB7HDX. Max, can you hear me? Over." Still nothing. "Maybe the repeaters are down."
Wearing blue summer shorts and a matching shirt, Heather uncrossed her legs, put her elbows on her knees and rested her head in her hands. "What's a repeater?"
"Heather, I’ve explained all this a hundred times. Haven't you been listening?"
"Yes, but I never really cared before. What's a repeater again?"
"It's an electronic device with antennas on high mountains or tall buildings. Repeaters receive weak transmissions, amplify them, and then re-transmit." Once more, he began inching the dial toward emergency frequency 145.33. Suddenly, his room filled with the voice of a man.
"K7LQ emergency."
No one answered.
"K7LQ emergency. We've had an earthquake. Anybody there? ...Net Control?"
Again, no one answered.
Heather wrinkled her nose and blinked her eyes. "So what's Net Control?"
James huffed and turned a glaring eye on his little sister, "Heather, I'm trying to listen."
"I wanna listen too. Just tell me what Net Control is."
"Okay." James thought for a moment. "Groups of guys get together and form a network of Hams. There's maybe thirty or forty in a net, all living in the same area and most owning a hand-held. That's a hand-held Amateur Radio. Usually Hams go to fires or help find people who are lost, but once a year we practice in case there's a major disaster. After a disaster, each guy or lady, checks out his assigned area and reports damage or injuries to Net Control. See, Net Control is the one who decides who gets to talk when. Okay? Now leave me alone." With that, he ignored Heather's indignant stare and turned his attention back to the radio. Two men were talking.
"K7LQ, this is AB7JSJ. Where are you Ed? Are you okay? Over."
"K7LQ, I'm at home…what's left of it. I've never seen anything like this. My house is totaled, Carl, totaled. But we're okay. Listen, can you take Net Control? I can't raise Gary and I'm at least a mile from his house. Over."
"LQ, will do if I can steady my nerves. Okay, this is Net Control, let me have reports of injuries first, over." A single bleep sounded as Net Control released the push-to-talk button on his Ham Radio. But after that, the airwaves remained quiet. "LQ you still there?"
"K7LQ roger, I'm still here. You got any damage? Over."
"I don't have anything left that isn't damaged. The china hutch fell on me before I got out the door. I think my arm is broken, but I'll live. The floors are buckled and power is out. My earthquake gas valve must have worked, I don't smell anything. I've got water in the basement though. Don't know where it's coming from. This is AB7JSJ, over."
Suddenly, a woman screamed into her hand-held, "Help us, oh God, help us!"
"This is Net Control, give us your call sign please. Is that you Mattie? Over."
"WJ7V. The Cleveland Department store fell. Help us! Over."
"Mattie, how many inside? Over." He waited, but she didn't answer. "Mattie, how many inside? Over."
"Hundreds! Today's Opening Day. It's a four-story building that's only about half that high now. People are starting to crawl out of the top floors and some are hurt bad. We need help now! Over."
"Okay WJ7V. This is Net Control, has anybody got phone service? Over?" When no one answered, Carl tried again, "Do we have any Hams at a police or fire station? Over." Again, no reply.
"K7LQ."
"LQ, go ahead."
"K7LQ, it's too soon Carl. It's just too soon."
Before Carl could answer, another man's voice interrupted, "NJ7RBG emergency."
"RBG, go ahead."
The man sounded nearly out of breath and his voice was quivering, "NJ7RBG, we've got two heaves in the I-5 freeway with a section missing. Several cars and a truck went off the end. Three seriously injured and one fatality. What hit us? Was it a bomb? It looks like..."
A mechanical voice curtly superseded him, "Time out. Wait." After that, there was complete silence.
Heather scooted forward on the bed with her huge eyes glued to the radio, "What's that? And where are they?"
"It's an automatic timer used to limit how long people can talk at one interval. And how should I know where they are?"
Finally, the mechanical voice came back on, "Repeater time out."
Net control instantly began to talk again, "Okay, RBG, give us a cross street, over."
"NJ7RBG, I'm at 228th street SW in Mount Lake Terrace, over."
Still seated at his desk, James turned to his sister. "There's a map of Seattle in the glove compartment of the truck. Go get it will you?"
Instantly, Heather flew out of the room. A short second later, a screen door slammed.
*
In Boise, Idaho, Glen Brown listened to the same frantic exchange over the emergency frequency. He reached in his desk drawer, pulled out an unused notebook and opened it to the first page. Next, he withdrew a sharpened pencil; poured himself a fresh cup of coffee, changed frequencies on his Amateur Radio, and began alerting the Hams on his net.
In San Francisco, Ham Operator and earthquake survivor John Meting bowed his head for a moment, and then pulled a checkbook out of his pocket. He entered a $1,000.00 amount, reached for an envelope and sealed the check inside. On the front he wrote the words – Salvation Army.
The only thing Ham Operator Belinda Case ever survived was two sets of twins, the youngest of which was finally and happily out of diapers. Without a second thought, Belinda went to a closet, opened the door and removed two full bags of disposables. Next, she located several spare blankets, and then began rummaging through her kitchen cupboards for extra canned food. Less than half an hour later, she made the first of many trips carrying generous donations from friends and family to Spokane's Red Cross collection center.
*
Soon reports over the Ham Radio began to come in more frequently and James listened intently to each new transmission.
"AC7UP."
"UP, go ahead."
"AC7UP. We just had a gas station blow up on the corner of Greenwood Avenue North and 92nd. We have heavy…make that severe damage to several homes on 92nd. Roads are impassable. We have broken water mains and injured people lying in the streets. I count seven dead so far, over."
*
KMPR's back-u
p generators should have kicked on automatically, but nothing on either console had power. Confused and still in shock, Max stood in the middle of the broadcast studio and scratched the back of his head. Half the room remained shaded by the still intact southern half of the roof, but a hot sun beat down on the other half. At length, he turned to Collin, "Well, the best place to start is the control room...I guess. In the closet by the front door, there's a snow shovel. Get it will you? We need to clear this mess out. And be careful on the stairs, go slow."
Collin was already halfway out the door when he answered, "Will do."
Cautiously, Max made his way through the rubble and started into the control room. "I can't believe this." He paused for a moment and scratched the back of his head again, "I can't believe we lived through this." He pushed on the broken door until it came free, and then leaned it against the wall. Next, he bent down, grabbed hold of the broken light fixture and dumped the plaster out. He leaned it against the wall as well, and soon, he disappeared inside.
Just as Max had done, Collin carefully tested each step, scooting plaster aside as he went. Remarkably, the reinforced steps felt solid. When he reached the closet, he easily found the shovel and hurried back upstairs. First, he picked up the larger chunks in the studio, carried them to the window and dropped them into the lush Seattle vines below. But each time he went to the window, he intentionally avoided looking across the street. Next, he used the shovel to start clearing a path. His injured arm had begun to ache, but he ignored it. Bruises on his head grew darker but none were serious. When Max was ready, Collin went into the control room, helped lift the fallen transmitter, and then listened as loose parts fell to the bottom.
"Don't worry, it'll work," Max said. He scooted more debris out of his way, and then got down on his knees. The summer sun beat hot on his skin, but Max didn't seem to notice.
Collin watched him get a wrench out of his toolbox and start removing screws from the front panel of the transmitter. "I know we need to get on the air, but I'm worried. Maybe we should try to go get them. Beth is pregnant, she can't walk fifteen miles."
Max kept working, beads of sweat beginning to glisten on his brow, "Let's hope they don't try. Go look out your front window, man. What's left of Seattle is, or soon will be, on fire."
Instantly Collin spun around and rushed out the door. He hurried down the stairs, charged into his living room and abruptly stopped. The sofa lay face down and twisted, the coffee table was on its side and his chair sat beneath the china hutch. But all these things he ignored. Cautiously, he made his way around the furniture until he stood only four feet from the open-air windows. In the distance, the bay looked calm, but oddly void of ships and summer sailboats. On the Olympic Peninsula, multiple columns of smoke rose from Bremerton and outlying areas.
He picked up a toppled wooden chair in his way, set it upright, and then moved farther forward. The fire was nearer than he imagined. The Space Needle was still there, although it slanted westward and one of its outside elevators, with people still inside, precariously hung by cables. Key Arena's newly built dome sat closer to the ground than it had before. The Opera house was gone as was the aging Center House and now he could see the Ferris wheel. Just behind it, billowing black smoke drifted straight up. The fire had completely engulfed at least two city blocks – the same blocks where three of Seattle's major television and radio stations were. On the roof of a building, orange and yellow flames grew in intensity, licking at a parked News chopper. Abruptly, the chopper exploded, adding fifty-foot flames to the smoke. Transfixed, Collin stared at the spreading fire for a long time before he looked away. Behind the smoke, what he could see of the city loomed dark and broken against the bright sky.
More columns of smoke drifted from structures on Capitol Hill. Beyond that, still more fires burned out of control, spreading their brown, white and black clouds of smoke into the windless air. Farther south, an even larger blaze was beginning -- a great wall of fire would soon burst forth from broken gas mains in the ground.
Again, he eased another step forward, and then another until he could see down the steep, southern slope of Queen Anne Hill. Eighteen square blocks of homes and apartment buildings lay in shambles. Stronger, newer structures rested askew on broken and damaged foundations. Older buildings lay heaped in odd shapes of mangled brick, metal and wood. Others were missing roofs and walls. Still more threatened to fall, precariously leaning or collapsed on one end. Yet none were on fire. Relieved, Collin sighed, and then went back upstairs.
*
The royal blue chopper drew closer to the Winningham Blue, and then paused. At a snail’s pace, it circled the building, turning and tilting until its video cameras captured every inch of the damage. In the modified body, Jackie paid particular attention to the collapsed 6th and 7th floors, and then asked Carl to move them higher.
Rising two hundred feet higher, the chopper hovered for several long minutes over the demolished observation deck. The glass dome was gone and broken steel window frames jutted up from the outside rims. Tables and chairs were missing, as were flowerpots, vending machines and seven decorative water fountains. In the center, only the hull of a devastated luncheon counter remained with its back to the back of the elevator shafts. The other side of the shafts still held six closed doors.
Jackie zoomed camera two in on the damaged elevators, and then slowly guided it to a dark hole on the northern end where the entry to a stairwell once was. The door was gone and only one wall of rafters remained intact. She typed in a new command, changed to night vision and zoomed closer – peering into the black hole, but the images were too small and unclear. She continued to increase the size of the zoom until finally, her monitor displayed a pile of crumpled and broken concrete steps in a heap two floors down.
Solemnly, Jackie spoke into her headset, "You guys got any ideas?" Neither Carl nor Michael answered.
In the mobile home, Michael pushed his glasses back up his nose and tried to think. He stared at the monitor, and then caught a glimpse of something. "Look at that!"
"What?"
"Screen six. Look behind the building. There's a man hanging off the top of the Columbia Tower."
Ninety stories tall, the windowless, forbidding, black Columbia Tower still stood on its damaged and broken, multi-level foundation. Jackie adjusted the angle of camera one and zoomed in, "A window washer?"
"Yes, and still alive. Looks like the cables on one end of the scaffolding snapped. Move the camera up. Let's see what's holding him." Almost instantly camera one moved, sending pictures of the dangling man with his safety harness hooked to wires leading to the roof. Behind him, loose wires hung from the bottom of the flat metal scaffold and above, more cables led to the end of a steel I-beam that stuck out almost two feet over the edge. On the other end of the I-beam, another steel cable stretched to an oversized hook mounted in the center and except for the I-beam, nothing remained on the roof of the tallest building in Seattle. Missing were transmitters, satellite dishes, television cameras and a mountain of communication equipment.
"Don't window washers usually work in pairs?"
In the pilot's seat, Carl slumped, "I wouldn't think about that, Jackie. The question is, how do we get him down?"
"Down? Why not up? We could land on the roof and..."
Carl shook his head, "No way, not with aftershocks like the last one. You ever see a chopper fall off a ninety-story building? It ain't pretty. Besides, all the equipment is down there with Michael. We don't even have the hook up here."
"We can't just leave him."
This time it was Michael who spoke, "We won't, we just need to think of a better way. Meanwhile, tell him you're coming back, okay?"
"Okay." While Carl moved the chopper closer and turned it broad side, Jackie hit a different hot key at the top of her keyboard. This time, monitor five went blank. At the same time, all the little bulbs on the outside identification board just below the windows lit up. In black font, Jackie typed the words
, "Hang on, we'll be back." She zoomed camera one again, closer and closer until she could read the expression on the terrified, man's face. He looked in pain, yet his clothing were free of blood. Finally, the man lifted his right arm and halfheartedly waved.
CHAPTER 8
When Collin returned, Max had his head halfway inside the base of the transmitter. "How can you concentrate? All I can think of is Beth."
Max paused in his work just long enough to choose a smaller wrench, "My wife is smart, and she’ll take care of Beth and the boys. Besides, Dad packed an earthquake kit in the trunk of the car. They've got water, food and medical supplies. If they can get to the car, they can make it another three or four days."
"If they can get to the car."
"Yes." Max sighed and turned his attention back to the transmitter. "And if we can get on the air, maybe we can tell them we're alive. They're probably just as worried about us as we are about them. Go to the window and see if the towers are still up. Okay?"
Collin nodded and obeyed. Outside, more men and women were gathered at the collapsed apartment building feverishly digging for survivors. The bodies of two men lay side-by-side in the street and three injured people huddled on a neighboring yard. Cautiously, he leaned out the window and looked left. He saw no towers. In fact, on a street once lined with a multitude of houses, he saw only the remains of three severely damaged buildings and the roof of a forth. Straining, he leaned out just a little farther to get a better look across Queen Anne Avenue North. Suddenly he gasped, "The hill slid!"
Instantly, Collin jerked his head back inside, covered his face and sucked in an urgent breath. For a long moment, he held it. He let it out, lowered his trembling hands and leaned back out the window to look right. This time the houses and businesses looked in pretty good shape and a block away, he spotted the only remaining tower. It no longer stood tall. Instead, it leaned south, as though bowing in homage to the fallen city. But south was where Beth and Candy were. With renewed optimism, he hurried back to Max. "The one to the south is leaning, but it's there."
Seattle Quake 9.2 (A Jackie Harlan Mystery Book 1) Page 9