Escaping the Giant Wave (9 page)

Neither BeeBee nor I said a word. If there were waves even bigger than the one that had just hit, we didn't want to be anywhere near them. We turned inland and took off.

This time we didn't walk as we had going up the hill. We ran. We crashed through the underbrush like startled deer as we followed Norm and Josie into the woods.

In my mind I replayed the horrible scene we had witnessed below us. The people on the beach were gone; I was sure of that. How could they not be? There were twenty-seven wooden steps that led from the beach to the Totem Pole Inn, and a couple more steps up to the road in front of Frontier Lodge. That wave had risen not only over all the steps, but over the tops of the two hotels! I shuddered, imagining the force of so much water.

The firefighters had been pulled into the sea too, along with anyone who had lingered to watch the fires. If the wave had hit the town of Fisher as hard as it had hit this inlet, the whole town was probably destroyed.

BeeBee must have been thinking the same thoughts because she said, “Do you think everyone on the beach drowned?”

“Most of them probably did. I saw one person who had climbed on a driftwood log or something and stayed afloat.”

“Maybe that was Daren.”

My stomach lurched when I thought of Daren. I was glad I hadn't eaten the pizza and drank the milkshake because if I had, I'd have lost them both.

As I plunged through the scrub brush, I remembered Daren jumping into my sea picture and wrecking it. I remembered him shoving past us in the stairway when he realized the hotel was on fire. I remembered how it felt when he punched me in school—day after day, year after year. Most of all, I remembered his cocky voice saying he'd be safer at the beach than we would be “running away from nothing” up the hill.

I thought about my list of summer goals.

Oh, Daren,
I thought.
I wanted to stop your bullying—but I didn't want it to happen this way. I didn't want you to die!

I looked back but could no longer see the ocean or the horizon in the distance. The trees were thick now, mixed groves of tall Douglas fir, alder, cedar, and others that I couldn't identify. The undergrowth was thicker too, with prickly vines that grabbed at my pant legs. Fallen branches, rocks, and mounds of decomposing leaves made the ground uneven.

We stumbled often but managed to stay upright as we fled. My legs ached from lifting my knees so high with each step. I'd been running at the high school track all spring and summer to help me increase my speed in baseball, but it's much easier to go fast on a smooth surface than it is to move through dense undergrowth in a forest.

With all the smoke in the air, dusk arrived early, giving the woods a forbidding look.

Josie stopped running so suddenly that I almost bumped into her. “My legs can't carry me one step farther in these bushes,” she said, her breath coming in gasps. “I'm going to sit here on this big rock and wait.”

“Then I'll wait with you,” Norm said. “You kids take our flashlights and keep going. It'll be pitch dark soon.” He and Josie both held flashlights out to us.

“I want to stay with you,” BeeBee said.

“Your legs are younger than ours, honey,” Josie said. “You're healthy and strong; you can keep running. Go as far as you can.”

“We'll take one light,” I said. “You keep the other one.”

“Good luck,” Norm said. “Now go!”

“Thank you,” I said as I took Norm's flashlight. “Thank you for everything.”

BeeBee and I ran on, not knowing what was ahead of us and not caring. All I cared about was putting as much distance as I could between us and the next giant wave.

Before, when I had made the decision to come up the hill, I had known that a tsunami had terrible destructive power, but now I had seen that force with my own eyes. Fear that comes from personal experience is far more real than fear based on someone else's ordeal.

As darkness wrapped around us, we slowed down some. I wasn't sure how far inland we'd run. Half a mile? Maybe even a mile.

When I ran laps around the track at school, I always set a goal and then counted the laps. Knowing there were only three more to go, then two more, then one, made it easier to finish even when I was so tired I didn't think I could make it.

I wished I could count down now. How much longer did we need to run? How far would be far enough? The woods stretched on, seemingly forever.

Beside me I heard BeeBee panting and wondered how long she would last. My own legs were so tired that I was having trouble running through the undergrowth now, and her legs were shorter than mine.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I can't run much more. I wish we could have stayed with Josie and Norm.”

“It's safer to keep going.”

“My feet hurt and my arms are all scratched up.”

Her words started as a sentence and turned into a whine. I knew if I encouraged her to talk any more she'd soon be in tears.

BeeBee rarely cries at home unless she's overtired. Now she was not only weary but also scared and in danger. I didn't blame her for being weepy; I felt like crying myself.

“Shh,” I said. “We'll stop for a few seconds to catch our breath and listen. Maybe we'll hear the signal that it's safe to go back.”

“What if we hear another wave coming?”

“Then we'll run some more.”

The darkness surrounded us now, and although the pool of light from the flashlight made it possible to keep going without bumping into a tree, it also made me feel more vulnerable. We couldn't see beyond the light—but anything in the woods nearby could see us.

We stood in the middle of nowhere, listening to the darkness. I didn't hear any all-clear signal, but even if it was sounding, I wasn't sure it would carry this far. We were a long way from Fisher Beach now and even farther from the town of Fisher, and there were huge trees to mute the sound. I didn't know if the town still existed, anyway. Maybe the speakers that broadcast the warnings and the all-clears had already been washed away by the first big wave. Maybe the people who monitored tsunamis were gone.

I listened some more. I didn't hear the all-clear signal, but I didn't hear another wave approaching either.

What I did hear were twigs snapping and brush breaking as someone—or something—came through the trees toward us.

BeeBee clutched my arm. “Something's coming!”

“Hello!” I called. “Who's there?”

The noise came closer.

I couldn't see the source of the noise.

BeeBee inched around until she stood behind me, then peeked over my shoulder.

I kept the flashlight pointed toward the noise.

Two bright eyes glowed in the gloom.

“Is it a grizzly bear?” BeeBee asked.

“No. It's too short.” It was too short to be a human too, but I didn't say that.

What else lived in the woods? A mountain lion's eyes would be about that high. So would a coyote's. Maybe it was a bear cub, and the mother bear was right behind it, ready to protect her baby.

I swallowed hard. I would wait until the animal was close enough so I could tell what it was. Then I planned to clap my hands and shout and try to scare it away.

Another twig snapped.

The eyes advanced.

My light picked up a tuft of tan fur and two floppy ears.

“Pansy?” I said.

The little terrier gave a happy “Yip!”

“It's Pansy!” BeeBee said. “Here, Pansy!”

Giddy with relief, I laughed as Pansy ran toward us, jumping over the low-lying bushes, snapping twigs.

“Pansy!” BeeBee dropped to her knees and hugged the dog. Pansy slurped BeeBee's face as her tail whipped back and forth.

“She must have pulled the leash out of Josie's hand and run after us,” BeeBee said.

“I can't believe she would leave Norm and Josie.”

“Norm said she loves kids. Maybe she just wanted to be with us.”

I shined the light back and forth in the woods where Pansy had come from, thinking Norm and Josie would follow Pansy and try to catch her. “Norm!” I called. “Josie?”

There was no answer. Maybe Josie truly couldn't walk any farther.

“We need to go on,” I told BeeBee. “We've rested long enough.”

“We can't keep running now! We can't leave Pansy by herself.”

“Pansy'll come with us. If she has trouble getting through the bushes, I'll carry her the way Norm did.”

“I want to hold her leash.”

That's when I realized that Pansy's red leash was not dangling from her collar. “The leash is gone,” I said.

Maybe Norm and Josie had purposely let Pansy come after us so that she would be farther away if another tsunami hit. Maybe they were hoping to save their little dog whether they were safe themselves or not.

I felt bad for Norm and Josie, knowing they would be worried about Pansy. They'd been so kind to us; I wished I had a way to let them know that Pansy had found us, and that we would take care of her and bring her back when the danger was over. That is, we'd bring her back
if
we survived.

We went deeper into the trees. I felt as if I were having a nightmare—the kind where I know I'm in danger and it's imperative to run way, but I can't seem to make my legs work.

I wished I had paid more attention to the maps of the Oregon coast that Dad had shown us when we were planning this trip. In particular, I wondered what lay straight east of Fisher Beach. If we were running away from the ocean—and I hoped we were still going in that direction, although I knew it was possible that by now we were disoriented and going around in circles—I wished I knew what was ahead of us. Would we eventually come to a road? A town? Farms? Or did these lonely woods go on for miles?

Pansy stopped.

“Come, Pansy,” BeeBee said. “This way.”

The terrier, who moments before had willingly trotted alongside us, now stood stiff-legged, refusing to budge.

“Is she hurt?” I asked. “Is her paw caught in a bramble?”

I shined the light on Pansy. The dog was shaking with fear. “It's okay, Pansy,” I said.

“Woof!”

The sharp bark made me jump—and sent a shiver of premonition up my back. Did Pansy sense something that I couldn't yet know?

“Woof! Woof! Woof!” It was the same bark Pansy had given just before the tsunami hit.

“Another wave is coming,” BeeBee said.

I swung the flashlight in a circle, looking for a safe place to wait. We were near a large tree, a giant old-growth cedar. I ran to the tree and put both arms straight out sideways; the tree trunk went from the fingertips of one hand to the fingertips of the other.

“Come here,” I said. “We're going to stand on the far side of this big tree. If another wave comes, the tree will protect us.”

It was a sturdy shield, but would it really be strong enough to protect us from a tsunami?

BeeBee followed me to the back side of the tree.

“Stand as close to it as you can,” I said. “Press up against the bark.”

BeeBee stepped up on a large root that angled away from the bottom of the tree and leaned her forehead against the trunk.

I turned off the light and put it in my pocket, then gathered the terrified dog in my arms and stood directly behind BeeBee. I felt BeeBee's shoulders shake and knew she was crying.

“Turn around,” I said. “Put your back against the tree, and face me. We're going to make a dog sandwich.”

BeeBee turned, wiping her nose on the back of one hand. “Dog sandwich?”

“You and I are the bread, and Pansy's the filling in the middle,” I said.

BeeBee put her arms around Pansy. “Good dog,” she whispered. “You're a good, good dog.”

Pansy's tail swished against me as she licked the tears from BeeBee's cheeks.

I wondered how I could make up a silly joke about a dog sandwich when I feared we were going to die any minute. Still, my words had helped. BeeBee wasn't crying any more, and now that we were holding her close, Pansy had stopped shaking.

If disaster strikes,
I thought,
I've spent my last few minutes on Earth hugging a dog and calming my sister's fear.
Those are good things—but I didn't want these to be my last minutes on Earth. I didn't want to die making a dog sandwich or running through the woods or any other way. I wanted to live! I wanted to survive the tsunami and find Mom and Dad and go back home to Kansas. I wanted to play baseball and hang out with my friends and read some good books and ride my scooter and . . .

I heard what Pansy must have heard a few minutes earlier.

“Here it comes,” BeeBee said.

We huddled behind the tree and listened to the second giant wave roar toward us. I could tell from the sound that it was higher than the first one had been and coming farther inland.

Pansy began to tremble again.

“It's coming over the top of the hill!” BeeBee shouted.

I tightened my hold on Pansy and pushed even closer to BeeBee.

I heard trees crash to the ground, and for one awful moment I feared I had made a terrible mistake by staying behind the big cedar tree. What if the force of the water pushed the tree over on top of us, trapping us beneath it?

Well, it was too late to change my mind. The fastest runner in the world wouldn't be able to escape the wave when it was this close.

The water thundered forward. I ducked my head down, shielding BeeBee, and braced my legs to keep my balance.

“It's going to hit us!” BeeBee screamed.

We should have run inland sooner,
I thought. Instead of staying with Norm and Josie and watching the people on the beach with their bonfire, we should have kept going. We should have run as far and as fast as we could. The warning sign had said to go as high up and as far away from the water as possible. Why had I followed only half the instructions?