The lights of the control room slowly dimmed as the backup batteries died.
“Damn,” cursed Kenichi.
Suzuki rushed into the control room. “What’s happening?”
“Emergency backup has failed,” replied Kenichi.
“What’s the status of the reactors?” asked Suzuki.
“Pressure has dropped in the Number One reactor.”
Suzuki’s face went pale. “How could that happen?” But he already knew the
answer.
“It’s somehow leaking,” replied Kenichi flatly.
Suzuki’s mind was jolted back to a report that he had read thirty years earlier.
The Americans had done a pressure test on a reactor identical to the Fukushima reactors.
The test was done at the Brunswick plant in North Carolina. Air was pumped into the
reactor vessel to create around seven times the normal pressure for which it was designed.
What happened was that the bolts that keep the lid of the vessel on began to stretch, and
then the lid lifted and allowed air to escape. The Number One reactor had reached nine
times the set limit. It was just another report that had been brushed under the carpet by the
Japanese Atomic Energy Agency and the International Atomic Energy Agency. “What’s
the status of the other reactors?” asked Suzuki.
“Emergency batteries for Reactor Three have died, and the water level has
dropped, exposing the top of the fuel rods. Pressure in Reactor Two is also rising.”
Suzuki looked at the clock on the wall that read 5:25 a.m. “Vent Reactor One as
soon as the prime minister has left the plant. He will arrive shortly.”
“Are you sure?” questioned Kenichi.
Suzuki’s face was grim. “Yes.”
Kenichi went over to the console and started the procedure.
**
Lights flashed around him and his face was cold with the night chill—smoke was
everywhere. He was moving, lying on something. He shook his head and tried to focus;
he could vaguely make out the burning wreck of his chopper. “My…copilot…where is
my copilot?” he croaked.
A young woman’s face appeared over him. “He’s badly hurt and has already
been taken to hospital,” she said in perfect English.
“Will he be...” He tried to get the words out, but lacked the strength.
“Yes, I think he will be fine,” she said, pulling the blanket up to his chin.
“We’re taking you there to be checked. You were knocked unconscious in the
crash.”
Mackeller managed a half nod and then let his head fall to the side. On the
runway he saw a commercial jet with a long line of people boarding. He looked hard,
trying to read the jet’s logo. Slowly it came into focus, Air China. He rolled his head back
and the young woman anticipating his question said. “They’re fleeing.” She paused and
looked at the long line of passengers. “The foreigners are evacuating.”
“Bloody flyjins. Fleeing foreigners ,” swore the paramedic who was pushing the
gurney.
The woman shot the paramedic a glare. “What would you do if your child was
studying in China and there was a massive earthquake, tsunami and then the nuclear
power plant, just forty kilometers away, gave an evacuation order?” She stopped and let
the words hang in the air. The paramedic lowered his head and said nothing. “That’s
right,” she went on. “You would try to get them out as quickly as possible.”
The paramedic grunted his agreement.
“The nuclear plant,” croaked Mackeller. “Is it…”
The woman looked down at him. “They say it’s fine. Just a precautionary
measure.”
Mackeller shook his head slowly from side to side.
She stared at him questioningly.
Another paramedic opened the doors and they slid the gurney in.
She watched the ambulance disappear into the darkness and wondered what the
American knew about the power plant.
**
Saturday, March 12, 2011, 5:40 a.m.
The mayor, Saito, and a few other town officials stood looking at a map of the area. Since
the three-kilometer evacuation order had been given the previous night, the mayor had
decided to prepare the whole town for evacuation the next day. The atmosphere in the
room was calm considering the precarious situation down the road at the Daiichi plant.
“We’ll need to get some buses to evacuate the elderly,” said the mayor.
“I’ll organize that,” said one of the men.
“You should tell the hospital to get their patients ready for immediate
evacuation,” said Saito.
“I’ll take care of that,” said another man.
The satellite phone rang and everyone’s eyes locked on it.
The mayor picked it up. “Yes,” he said into the phone.
“What? Are you sure?”
Pause.
“To where?”
Pause.
“Kawauchi? Is that far enough?”
Pause.
“I understand.” He hung up.
Saito and the other men had heard only half the conversation but knew exactly
what the mayor was about to announce. Their worst nightmare was about to become a
stark reality.
The mayor looked around at the men. “That was the central government. We’ve
been ordered to evacuate to Kawauchi, twenty-two kilometers from here.”
“I knew they were lying!” bawled one of the men.
“Not now!” said the mayor, raising his hand for the men to be silent.
“What else did they say?” asked Saito.
“They said that we would be safe there, that it’s a very small leak, and we’ll be
able to return home soon; it’s just a precautionary measure. There’s no imminent danger.”
“Do you believe them?” asked one of the men, his voice loaded with contempt.
The mayor’s expression hardened. “Yes, I do believe our government,” he said
definitely. “I don’t believe TEPCO, but I do believe our government.”
Saito knew the mayor too well and could hear the doubt in his words, but he
refrained from saying anything, not wanting to make the situation tenser than it was.
“You all have your jobs,” said the mayor flatly. “Let’s put the evacuation plan
into action.”
“Yes,” said the men loudly, and then they bowed and rushed out the door.
“How long do you expect the evacuation to take?” asked Saito.
The mayor frowned. “Until late this afternoon.”
“That’s a long time?”
The mayor’s frown deepened. “There are almost 16,000 people living here.”
Saito nodded his understanding. “Lucky we distributed the iodine pills.”
One of the officials rushed into the room. “All the buses have been hired by the
neighboring villages to evacuate their residents.”
The mayor rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Not even one?”
“They’ve already left. It seems we were the last town to be told to evacuate.”
“How about minivans?” said Saito. “Many families own minivans and four-
wheel drives. We could use them to evacuate the elderly and sick.”
“Announce that we need people with minivans or spare room in their cars to help
evacuate the elderly and sick,” said the mayor.
“Yes,” said the official, bowing.
“Saito, would you mind helping him?”
“Of course not.” He headed after the man, but stopped at the door and turned to
face the major. “It has been rumored that the nuclear workers have told their families to
evacuate to at least one hundred kilometers from the plant. They began telling families and
friends to leave straight after the tsunami hit. I think they know it’s going to get a lot
worse.”
The mayor nodded slowly. “I know. I’ve heard the same rumors.”
**
Seko held out her hand, and the old lady, her hand trembling with cold, clasped it and
managed a smile of thanks. “It’s not much farther,” said Seko, smiling back. She led her
slowly down the hillside. The others followed in silence, their faces grave. Seko and her
neighbors had spent the night evading forest fires, clambering up and down the steep
hills, and now the band of weary survivors were headed back to the ruins of their houses.
The sun was just rising, shedding an eerie glow over the destruction that lay
below them. The town was gone. It looked like the aftermath of the Hiroshima and
Nagasaki atomic bombs. Fires burnt everywhere across the forbidding landscape, smoke
billowing upward, shrouding the town in a grey haze. Broken timber, twisted metal,
crushed cars, and few skeletal concrete structures were all that remained. They continued
down the slope and came out into a clearing just above where their neighborhood had
once stood.
“Look!” said Seko, pointing. “Minakawa-san and Kobuchi-san’s houses are still
standing.”
The two houses stood at the end of the road, halfway up the hill where Seko had
stopped the car. Below that point, only a few broken roofs and splintered timbers poked
out of the mud that had entombed the wreckages of their houses.
“Let’s get into the houses,” said Seko, helping the old lady down the last of the
slope.
A few minutes later, they sat in silence, huddled around a kerosene heater in
Minakawa’s house. Seko went over to the gas cooker and turned the switch; a flame
ignited, warming her face. She went back outside and scooped up some snow in a bucket
and then put it into a kettle on the gas cooker. She made coffee for the others and then
checked the pantry and fridge for food. There was about a kilo of rice, ten packets of
instant noodles, a few vegetables, and three pieces of fish—not much, but something. She
then went next door and checked Kobuchi’s kitchen and found much the same.
Unfortunately, both Mr. Minakawa and Mr. Kobuchi lived by themselves and didn’t do
too much cooking. She cursed her luck and then grinned to herself. “I should be grateful
for the little we have,” she muttered.
**
Kenichi closed the toilet door and took out his phone and rang his wife.
“Hello,” his son said at the other end.
“Hello, it’s me. Can I speak to Mommy?”
“When are you coming home?” asked his son.
“Soon, but put Mommy on, please.”
“Kenichi!” Her voice was anxious. “What’s happening? I’ve heard people have
been told to evacuate.”
“You need to take the children and leave now. Take the children to Tokyo and
then buy tickets to Okinawa; go as far south as you can. I will join you there later.”
There was a short silence at the other end and then a panicked voice. “What’s
going on?”
“We’ve lost all external power to the plant, and the reactors are going into
meltdown.”
There was a gasp at the other end. “Is there anything you can do?”
“We’re trying. But I want you and the kids to get as far away as possible—now!
Do you have petrol?”
“I have half a tank.”
“That should get you to somewhere where you’ll be able to buy more petrol.”
“I understand. I’ll put some belongings together and leave.”
“No, just leave now. There’s no time.”
“I understand.”
“Call me when you get to Tokyo.”
“Will you be all right?”
“Yes, I’ll be fine. Go now!”
“Take care,” she said and hung up.
Kenichi put the phone in his pocket and let out a deep breath. He had no idea if
he would ever see them again.
**
Coughing, Sachie climbed down off another pile of wreckage. After she had helped
rescue the old lady, she had spent the rest of the night searching for Yukino, but her
efforts had been in vain. She was cold and exhausted and had decided to make her way
back home. She followed the tree line at the base of the hill, as it was less cluttered with
debris. A bitter wind blew through her wet clothes, and her body shivered involuntarily.
More snow, she thought and looked up. Staring down at her was a high school girl,
slumped over a tree branch. “Are you OK?” Sachie called. But the girl just stared down at
her. “Are you OK?” she repeated and then gasped as she realized the girl was dead.
Sachie stood staring into the lifeless eyes of the girl. Strangely, images of the girl’s first
love, her wedding day, and her daughter’s birth surfaced in Sachie’s mind. She shook her
head, trying to clear the images, but more images surfaced: the girl’s two daughters and
her husband laughing at the dinner table, her family on the beach in Hawaii, her first
daughter dressed in a beautiful kimono at her Coming of Age Day ceremony. Sachie
shook her head again, and the images vanished. She stood a few moments, still staring
into the girl’s lifeless eyes and then bowed and said, “I hope you find happiness in your
next life.” She didn’t know why she said those words; they had simply spilled from her
lips.
Sachie left the girl and continued in the direction of her house. She met several
groups of people standing around makeshift fires and asked if they had seen Yukino, but
no one had seen her. She crossed the bridge, which although the guardrail had been
ripped clean off, still stood strong. She turned a corner and stopped dead, standing
amongst the wreckage of a house, a young girl, around ten years old, stood screaming for
her mother.
“Okasan! Okasan! Mother! Mother!” the girl cried.
Sachie walked over to her and put her arm around her, but the girl shrugged her
off.
“Okasan! Okasan! Mother! Mother!” she cried again.
“It’s all right!” said Sachie. “She’ll be back soon.”
But the girl kept screaming.
Sachie moved closer, but the girl brushed her off and screamed, tears streaming
down her face. “Mother, please come home! Mother, please come home!”
Out of nowhere a woman appeared.
Sachie’s heart filled with relief. “She’s been looking for you,” she said to the
woman.
The woman’s eyes were watery. “Her mother is dead; she was drowned in the
tsunami.”
It was as if the last remaining glimmer of hope that remained in Sachie’s heart
had been snuffed out. She stumbled away without answering. “Tomo,” she murmured.
“Are you safe? I know I should look for you, but I must find my cousin – forgive me
Tomo.” She fell to her knees, covered her face with her hands and wept.
**
Kenichi wife watched the news on her car’s navigation system. An NHK news helicopter
was flying along the coast. Below the destruction was immeasurable. Towns and villages
had been completely erased from the coastline, and large parts of cities lay in ruins; fires
burned and the sea was black and littered with debris. The helicopter flew over Kamaishi
and filmed the crumbled breakwater wall; beached across a road was the ship, the Asian
Symphony. The chopper continued north over Otsuchi where there was a large cruise ship
perched atop a building.
**
Hiro bowed and accepted a bowl of instant noodles from a man handing out food. People
lay or sat all over the floor of the gymnasium—old, young, and infants, some sleeping,
some talking, and others crying.
Hiro noticed Erica sitting in the far corner with her back to him. He put down the
bowl of noodles and went over. On the floor around her, she had scribbled the number
four with a marker pen.
He knelt down and took the pen from her. “Your mother and father will be here
soon.”
Erica shook her head defiantly.
Hiro sighed. “They will come,” he told her. But his tone betrayed his words.
“Could you tell her to stop writing all over the floor?” said a woman from behind
Hiro.
“Yes, sorry,” replied Hiro.
“Why does she write the number of death? Can’t she see we are surrounded by
death?” the lady said irritably.
“I don’t know,” replied Hiro, “but her parents are missing.”
The lady’s tone softened. “I’m sorry. There is an emergency information tent
outside. Have you checked there?”
“No, but thank you,” said Hiro.
“We’ve all lost so much. My house was washed away. I’ve lost everything.”
“At least you and your family are safe,” he said.
The lady’s eyes filled with tears. “I can’t find my husband,” she blurted.
Hiro looked at the woman; he wanted to comfort her, but the words were stuck
in his throat.
Tears spilled from her eyes. “He worked with the mayor in the town office. It
was destroyed by the tsunami.”
“I’m sure he will be all right,” said Hiro, trying to comfort her.
The woman stopped crying. “I think I should go and look for him.”
Hiro said nothing.
The woman got to her feet and wandered off through the labyrinth of people.
Hiro saw the two fat boys and their parents, equally as fat, packing their few
belongings into a bag. He went over. “Are you leaving?”
The mother bowed deeply. “I don’t know how to repay you for saving our sons.
Thank you ever so much.”
“You’re welcome and you don’t owe me anything,” replied Hiro, returning the
bow.
“We are going to Tono,” said the father. “Our house was completely destroyed
by the tsunami. There is no reason to stay here.”
“How will you travel?”
“I managed to get my car to high ground on the road to Tono before the tsunami
hit. The road is still open. We can stay with my brother.”
“Do you have enough petrol?” asked Hiro.
“Yes, luckily I filled up yesterday morning. Won’t you come with us?”
“Thank you, but no. I have one girl who still hasn’t found her parents. Good
luck.” Hiro patted the boys on the head and went outside to the emergency tent. He
inquired about Erica’s parents, but there was no news of them. He went back inside and
saw the skinny boy sitting with his mother. The two of them sat staring at the floor. He
walked over and sat cross-legged next to them. “Your son acted very bravely,” he said.
They didn’t look up.
“Is everything OK?” He realized his choice of words was ridiculous considering
the circumstances.
The mother looked up. Her face was pale, her hair bedraggled, and her eyes
hollow. “Our daughter…is…missing,” she told him, barely managing to hold back the
tears. “She went to high school in Kamaishi. My husband has gone to try to locate her.”
Hiro thought about saying, She’ll turn up. Don’t worry, but he decided not to
give any more false hope. He had witnessed the death of 80 percent of the students at his
school. Instead, he offered encouragement. “I heard that the new road is open and people
can get through to Kamaishi.”
The woman nodded and then stared back down at the floor.
Hiro stood up and made his way back to Erica.
**
Tomo moaned and opened his eyes. Suddenly, the memories of the day before rushed into
his mind. They had turned the boat around and were heading straight at the tsunami. The
wall of whitewater hit the boat ripping everyone, except Tomo who was crouched in the
front, off the boat. The boat was flipped several times and then miraculously came up
riding the whitewater towards the city. The buildings rushed towards him and he knew he
would be crushed.
“Are you OK?” asked a middle-aged woman, kneeling beside him.
Tomo pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Yes,” he muttered.
“Would you like some soup?”
Tomo nodded.
A few minutes later she came back with a bowl. “Sorry, this is all we have.”
“Thank you,” he said hoarsely.
The lady smiled and handed him the bowl.
“How did I get here?”
“You staggered in last night. We dried you and changed you into new clothes.”
“Thank you,” replied Tomo and then he took a sip of the soup.
You’re welcome,” she said and left.
His thoughts immediately slipped back to yesterday. The boat was flung wildly
across the water towards the city. Tomo hung on for dear life, his eyes wide with terror.
The left side of the whitewater hit the harbor wall first spraying up and then sending a
surge horizontally, hitting the boat and catapulting it into the air, saving the boat from
being slammed into the wall. It plowed nose first down behind the whitewater, the surge
dragging the boat into the city. He clung on as the boat was sucked down a street, waves
hitting it from every direction, slamming it into buildings. The boat was swept around a
corner, hit a lamppost almost capsizing and then was sucked into a whirlpool. Round and
round the boat spun, Tomo almost throwing up with dizziness. All of a sudden waves
ricocheted off a building pushing the boat out off the whirlpool. Tomo soaked and
freezing was barely able to hold on as the boat was sucked around one more corner,
slammed into another building cracking the side; water poured in and Tomo knew he was
done. But then, the building’s huge glass display window shattered and the boat was
washed in. Inside waves came from all sides, rocking and spinning it. The surge pushed it
in deeper until it crashed against a wall. Tomo saw the stairwell and with his remaining
strength leapt from the boat and scrambled up the stairs.
“Sachie,” he gasped. “I need to find her.” He got up and left the evacuation center
without anyone noticing.
**
Ryota sat cross-legged on the oil tank. The receding water had dragged him about two
kilometers out to sea. He looked at the distant coastline that was dotted with plumes of
smoke and sighed. And then he heard a voice and turned to see two girls floating on the
wreckage of a roof, about 100 meters away. He waved his hands and they waved back.
“I’ll try and get over to you!” shouted Ryota.
“OK!” called back one of the girls.
Ryota had no idea how he was going to do that. The tank was stuck in the
broken remains of several houses. He searched the debris for something he could use and
spied a small overturned dinghy on the far edge of the debris. He crawled off the tank and
made his way carefully across the piles of broken timber until he reached the dinghy. He
turned it over and slid it into the sea. He picked up a broken plank of wood, got in, and
began to paddle toward the two girls.
He reached them in a few minutes.
“Konichiwa. Hello,” he said cheerfully.
“Konichiwa,” they replied.
“I’m Ryota,” he said, bringing the dinghy alongside.
“I’m–” the older of the two girls stopped midsentence.
Their eyes locked.
She was one of his classmates—one of the girls who often participated in the
bullying.
They stared at each other for a few seconds. “Get in,” said Ryota, breaking the
silence.
The two girls moved carefully over to the edge and climbed in.
“Long time no see, Ryota-kun,” said the older of the two.
“Long time no see, Karina-san,” replied Ryota flatly.
The two girls sat silently at the back while Ryota knelt at the front and paddled
toward his floating mound of debris. They reached the edge, and Ryota helped the two
girls onto the wreckage.
“Thank you so much. And I’m very, very sorr–”
Ryota raised his hand for her to stop. “You don’t need to say anything.”
“But I was awful to you,” Karina said, bowing her head.
“Forget about it. Now we need to survive.”
“I’m really sorry,” Karina said again.
Ryota ignored her apology. “Who is she?”
“She’s my–”
“I’m her younger sister,” the younger girl interrupted.
She was ten years old, a little short for her age, with a round face and sparkling
hazel eyes. Her shoulder-length hair was tied in pigtails, an