Rogue Wave

by Boyd Morrison

  "And the quake magnitude? Have we gotten confirmation back from NEIC yet?"

  "I just checked again," Reggie said. "NEIC estimates 6.9."

  The Southeast Asia tsunami resulted from a quake with a moment magnitude of 9.0, over 1000 times more powerful than this earthquake. The resulting waves had been up to 55 feet high, limited by the extent that the ocean floor could move vertically. An earthquake as small as 6.9 had never spawned an ocean-wide tsunami. There just wasn't enough energy or motion of the seafloor to generate large waves that could travel great distances. That was why they didn't issue a tsunami watch or warning unless the earthquake measured over 7.5.

  The conditions didn't add up. The earthquake shouldn't have spawned a tsunami, and yet they couldn't get any signal or communication from Christmas Island. Kai's subconscious nagged him, pestering him that he was missing a vital piece of the puzzle that was just beyond his grasp.

  Kai picked up the sheet with the wave arrival times. Johnston Island would be next in about 20 minutes, then the Big Island 20 minutes after that, followed by Oahu an hour and 25 minutes from now. Johnston Island had a real-time tide gauge, so that would be their next chance to get data about a potential wave.

  "When will we get the wave height data from the DART buoy?" Kai asked Reggie.

  "The max wave height at the buoy will be about five minutes after it reaches Johnston, which puts it at twenty-five minutes from now. The captain on the Miller Freeman said they'll have the satellite uplink ready in ten minutes, which will be just enough time. So it looks like the tide gauge at Johnston is our first chance to see if it's really a power outage."

  Up to this point, Brad had quietly been watching events unfold, content merely to spectate, but now he couldn't resist interjecting.

  "You mean, you're willing to wait more than twenty minutes until you know for sure?" he said.

  "What do you want us to do?" Reggie responded. "Evacuate a million people because of a downed power line?"

  "Do you want to take the chance that they could be killed because you thought it was just a downed power line?"

  "I'm just saying that we need more evidence," Reggie said defensively. "I mean, sure, if we had a 9.0 earthquake on our hands, I'd issue the warning in a second. But to completely wipe out Christmas Island and our tide gauge, the tsunami would have to be huge. At least twenty feet high. There's no way a 6.9 quake causes a tsunami that big."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I've researched every major tsunami in the last 60 years," Reggie said. "There is absolutely no historic precedent for it. Besides, do you realize how much an evacuation costs? We'll be crucified if we're wrong, especially with this kind of flimsy data. I say we wait twenty minutes. If the tide gauge on Johnston craps out too, then I'm all for a warning."

  Twenty more minutes. For a massive evacuation every minute would count. With less than an hour before a potential tsunami hit the southern tip of the Big Island, Kai had to make the call. In his mind, he quickly pictured the headlines vilifying him for a massive unnecessary evacuation. The internal NOAA investigations into why he ignored long-established procedures. The political reprisals condemning yet another federal employee who couldn't handle the position. As Kai thought about it, the recriminations became more clear to him. His tenure would be cut short by what would be seen as a lack of judgment that showed he didn't have the experience for the job.

  On the other hand, something deep down was telling him that this wasn't just a power disruption. There was something else, something tantalizingly out of reach. He couldn't pinpoint where the cognitive dissonance was coming from, the subtle clash of information that was telling his subconscious mind it didn't fit together. Logically, there was little reason to be worried about a major tsunami. But they couldn't rule it out, either, and that's what scared him the most.

  In the end, Kai's choice simply came down to what was best for him. His daughter was on the beach that morning. His wife was in a hotel no more than 100 yards from the ocean. He could live with losing his job because he made a poor decision; he couldn't live with himself if his wife and daughter died because he made a poor decision.

  "We've already waited 30 minutes," Kai said weakly. "We can't wait any longer." He didn't sound convincing, probably because he wasn't sure he was doing the right thing. When Kai realized Reggie and Brad were looking at him, hoping to see some conviction, he cleared his throat and stood up straighter. "Reggie, send out the warning. I'll get on the phone and talk to the duty officer over at Hawaii Civil Defense." Kai knew that, like the PTWC, HCD would be minimally staffed on a holiday.

  "Are you sure?" Reggie said. "We've got even less to go on than the one we issued last year."

  A mixture of concern and support etched Brad's face. Even with his limited knowledge about what was going on, he knew this was a tough call.

  But Kai's moment of hesitation was over. His own doubt might influence others, diminishing the sense of urgency about the evacuation, and if a real tsunami was coming, they needed to act quickly and decisively.

  "I'm sure. Do it. Issue the warning."

  "OK," Reggie said. "I'm glad it's your call. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes."

  Reggie went to the computer and started typing in the commands that would issue a tsunami warning to every government agency in the Pacific. Kai had just made a $50 million decision.

  Chapter 12

  10:01 AM

  1 hour, 21 minutes to Wave Arrival Time

  Kai called Hawaii Civil Defense, and the officer on duty at HCD, a junior staffer named Brian Renfro, answered his phone immediately.

  "Brian, this is Kai Tanaka over at PTWC. I need to speak to Jim Dennis."

  Dennis, the Vice Director of HCD, was the person who normally made the big decisions there and coordinated all the efforts of the state's emergency services.

  "Sorry, Kai. He took the weekend to visit some friends on Kauai. It's just me and a couple of others here today. What's wrong?"

  Kai had been worried HCD would be as understaffed as the PTWC was, and it sounded like he was right. On a normal working day, HCD would have up to 30 people on staff. He knew Renfro from the first semi-annual training scenario he had participated in. Renfro was a bright kid, but young, not much older than 25. Kai could only hope that Renfro's thorough training at HCD would prepare him for what was about to happen. He was about to get a big dose of responsibility.

  At least Renfro was in a safer location than Kai. Rather than being built 300 yards from the ocean like the PTWC was, HCD was well-ensconced in a bunker inside Diamond Head crater. Because Hawaii was exposed to so many different types of potential disasters-tsunamis, hurricanes, volcanoes, earthquakes-the state took civil defense very seriously. Situated inside an extinct volcano with sides over 600 feet high, the bunker could withstand virtually any disaster nature could dish out.

  Manned by public information officers like Brian Renfro, the HCD Virtual Joint Information Center-or VJIC-would be in charge of alerting the public through the Emergency Alert System, which some of the public still called the Emergency Broadcast System. Most people were familiar with the EAS through the high-pitched tone on their televisions followed by the words, "This is a test of the Emergency Alert System. This is only a test. If this were a real emergency…"

  The EAS had been upgraded in recent years to make use not only of broadcast TV and radio, but also the Internet, cell phones, and pagers. In the event of an emergency, most local TV and radio stations would automatically broadcast the signal coming straight from the VJIC, which had its own studio. In fact, it also had an office for the governor, who could live there for days along with her Cabinet to coordinate emergency efforts in a long-duration disaster, such as a hurricane.

  "Brian," Kai said, "we've got a situation here. Did you see the bulletin we sent out earlier?"

  "Sure did. What's the problem? Are you upgrading it?"

  "Yes. You should get the tsunami warning in the next minute or so."

 
; "The bulletin said it's a 6.9. I thought the cutoff for a tsunami warning was 7.5."

  Obviously, Renfro knew the PTWC's protocols well.

  "You're right, but I've lost contact with Christmas Island."

  "You mean the tide gauge?"

  "No, I mean the whole island, including the tide gauge."

  "When?"

  "The tide gauge was supposed to give us a reading over 30 minutes ago. Since then, we haven't been able to get in touch with anyone on the island." Kai took a deep breath. "We think it may have been wiped out by a tsunami."

  There was a pause at the other end of the line.

  "OK," Brian finally said. "Give me one minute. Then I'll call you back. I'm going to try to get in touch with the vice director."

  Kai hung up the phone and told Brad and Reggie what Renfro said.

  "What do we do now?" Brad said.

  Reggie perked up as if he just remembered something. "My God!"

  "What?" Kai said.

  "There's a team of scientists on Johnston Island."

  "But I thought it was abandoned," said Brad. "There was an article in the paper about the chemical weapons disposal facility being shut down in 2004. Now it's a nature sanctuary or something."

  Johnston Island, a tiny coral atoll like Christmas Island, was only about twice the size of Central Park. Until 2001, it served as the United States' primary disposal facility for chemical weapons, but fortunately it had incinerated its last bomb. If this tsunami had happened before then, they might have faced the additional specter of having thousands of canisters of the deadliest chemicals known to man washed out to sea. It was one of the few things Kai felt relieved about at that moment.

  The other good news was that, now that the facility was shut down, the 1300 people who manned the station had packed up for good, with the last of them having left in June of 2004. Since then, it had been operated by the Fish and Wildlife service as a wildlife preserve.

  "How do you know someone's there?" Kai said, snatching the map of Johnston Island from its bin and unfurling it on a table.

  "I wanted someone to check the tide gauge there because we've been having intermittent signal problems. Alvin Peters over at Fish and Wildlife said a team was there for a month doing observational studies of turtle nesting on the island and that they could check on the equipment for me. Even gave me their satellite phone number."

  A quick scan of the map showed that the max elevation on the island was no more than 44 feet, not high enough to ensure protection from a large tsunami. Kai didn't know the state of the buildings there or whether they would be able to stand up to the force of a tsunami. The only truly safe place was out at sea in deep water. Thank God the scientists on the island had a phone.

  "They only have ten minutes. Call them right now. Let's hope they have a boat."

  As Reggie ran to his cubicle to get the number and make the call, the phone rang. It was Brian Renfro.

  "I couldn't get in touch with the vice director. But I just got your tsunami warning, so I'm going to follow standard procedure. We're trying to contact the governor now. The sirens will go off in a minute, and then I'll start broadcasting our standard tsunami warning message on the EAS. Call me back if you get any new information. Especially if it's a false alarm." With that, he hung up.

  Kai could tell Renfro wasn't happy with having to make the call. Understandably, if it was a false alarm, Renfro wanted to make sure his ass was covered. In that case, nobody could fault him if he followed standard procedure.

  "So HCD is going to evacuate?" Brad said. "You know, your daughter-my niece-is at the beach today."

  "I know. Along with about 100,000 other people." Kai didn't share his rationale for issuing the warning in the first place, his worries about Rachel and Lani.

  "So shouldn't we call Rachel and Teresa and let them know?"

  In an emergency, it was always tempting to set aside the duties of the job and put personal interests first-specifically warning your own family. If everyone did that, though, everything-the government, fire department, police department, emergency services-would grind to a halt. Kai had to trust that the warning system in place would work. But that didn't mean that Brad couldn't call them.

  "I don't have Teresa's cell phone number. Call Rachel. She'll give it to you. Let her know what's happening. All the hotels are part of the warning system, but it can't hurt." Kai handed Brad his cell phone. "She's busy this morning, so she probably won't answer it unless she sees that it's my phone number. If she doesn't answer, choose the pager option when you get her greeting, then dial 999. That's our code for an emergency." They had instituted the code three years previously when Lani had broken her leg playing soccer and Kai hadn't been able to get Rachel to answer her phone for two hours.

  Brad took the phone and went into the conference room to make the call. Reggie almost knocked him over running into the ops center.

  "I got em!" he said.

  "The scientists? Thank God! How many are there?"

  "Seven."

  "Do they have a boat?"

  "No, but they have a plane. The weekly supply flight from Hawaii didn't take the holiday off. But there's a problem."

  Kai's stomach sank. "With the plane? It can't take off?"

  "Oh, it can take off. In fact, they should be getting into the air in a few minutes. But it's just a small supply plane. It can only take five of the scientists. Two of them will have to stay behind."

  At that exact moment, Kai heard the first wail of the tsunami siren.

  Chapter 13

  10:05 AM

  1 hour, 17 minutes to Wave Arrival Time

  Realizing she could do nothing more for the Russian tour group until the interpreter arrived in about an hour, Rachel had turned her full attention to the most important event taking place at the hotel-the governor's veterans brunch.

  The event had been under way for five minutes, right on time despite the ramp problem, which was fixed as promised. Rachel stood at the back watching Governor Elizabeth Kalama give her speech, ready to make sure any potential issues were resolved quickly and quietly.

  Because Rachel's job was all about communication, she carried a walkie-talkie and cell phone at all times. The walkie-talkie was for in-hotel communications with the staff, and the cell phone connected her with external vendors and clients. Either one could go off at any time. This time it was her cell phone. She had it set to vibrate mode so that it wouldn't interrupt the speech from the dais.

  She pulled it from her belt and looked at the number. It was Kai's cell phone. Normally, she would have answered it when she saw the number. But the brunch was too important to take her attention away from it. She replaced it on her belt and let it go to voice mail.

  After another few seconds, her cell phone's pager feature went off. She picked it up again and looked at the number typed in the display, expecting to see Kai's cell phone number again. Instead, she saw "999''. Their emergency code.

  She didn't hesitate, immediately calling Kai's cell phone.

  "Kai?" she whispered. "What's going on?"

  "Rachel, it's Brad."

  "Brad? Where's Kai?"

  "He's busy. He wanted you to know that he just issued a tsunami warning."

  "Oh no! Right now?"

  "Yeah, you should be getting the official warning in a few minutes."

  "Oh my God! I'm at a brunch in our ballroom. The governor's here."

  "Wow! The governor? I hope you guys got paid for the brunch up front."

  She got it now. One of Brad's stupid jokes.

  "Ha ha, very funny, Brad. I'm going now."

  "No, wait, Rachel. I'm serious."

  "Brad, our 999 code is not for jokes."

  "I swear, I'm not joking."

  "Because I can see you pulling this kind of stunt."

  "Listen, here's Kai." She heard Brad in the background say, "She doesn't believe me."

  Then Kai's voice came on the line.

  "It's me, honey."

&
nbsp; "So Brad's not joking?"

  "I wish he were."

  "So a tsunami is really coming?"

  "We don't know for sure yet, but it looks like it."

  "Jesus! When is it supposed to get here?"

  "In a little more than an hour."

  "An hour? What took you guys so long? You said that a tsunami from Alaska would take five hours to get here."

  "It's not from Alaska."

  "A local one? The Big Island?" Rachel knew that landslides or earthquakes in the Hawaiian Islands could cause a tsunami that would take less than 45 minutes to reach Oahu.

  "No, somewhere in the Pacific. Listen, Rachel, I've got to go. I'll talk to you soon. Here's Brad again. Be safe."

  A raspy sound came through as the phone got passed back.

  "I'm back."

  "Hey Brad," Rachel said, "sorry I didn't believe you."

  "No big deal. You know, it's kind of fun seeing Kai work. They don't know what caused the tsunami, but they think it could be a big one."

  "OK. Thanks, Brad. I've got to get things in motion here."

  "Wait, Rachel! Does Lani have a cell phone?"

  Rachel just assumed Teresa had already been warned and was taking Lani and Mia to safety.

  "Why?" she said. "What's wrong? Is she OK? Where is she?"

  "Slow down. I don't know. I just listened to Kai's messages. I was actually calling you to get Teresa's cell phone number, but she left a message on Kai's cell phone. Her phone battery is almost dead, so she turned the phone off. I tried returning her call, but all I get is her voicemail. I was hoping Lani had a cell phone."

  "No. We didn't think she was old enough for one yet."

  "Old-fashioned, huh? Well, I'm sure they'll hear the sirens and get to high ground."

  "Brad, make sure they're OK. Please? I won't have time. I've got to get the hotel ready."

  "Don't worry. I got it covered."

  He sounded confident, but then he always sounded confident. But she had to trust him, so she hung up and turned her attention to her duties.

  As the governor continued her speech, Rachel weaved her way through the tables of disabled vets. Because the Grand Hawaiian was a state-of-the-art Waikiki resort, it had a well-thought out tsunami warning plan. The employees ran drills every six months to familiarize themselves with the procedures in case of a tsunami. Rachel had been through only one of them.