'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.
