The final demise of the Michi Maru was almost serene in comparison to the dramatic events of the last few hours. The hull was now almost totally flooded, the mass of water drawing down the upper deck of the craft to mere centimetres of the level of the swirling tide around them, the boat’s buoyancy almost totally degraded. Kurosawa looked down at the Nameless Captain where he lay against the front of the wheelhouse, gradually trying to recover from his ordeal.
He was a tough man, a veteran of the sea and the trials it could force a human being to endure. Kurosawa could see hints of the robust character of the resilient old mariner returning.
‘You had better prepare yourself, captain,’ he said. ‘I think this ship is about to go down.’
‘Poxy landlubbers, you’re all the fucking same,’ he replied. ‘Ride out one pathetic wave and you think you are Christopher Columbus.’ He forcefully spat out some blood and phlegm onto the deck, wiped his hand across his mouth and gave Kurosawa a wry grin.
‘I see you are feeling better, captain,’ said Kurosawa, heartened by the man’s returning sarcasm.
‘You had better do up that jacket, boy, if you are going to survive in these waters, you’re going to need all the help you can get,’ responded the captain.
He did as the man said, as a small wave now began to gently ripple across the deck and the vessel ceased to float above the filthy tide. The boat’s displacement, all but exhausted by the volume of water filling her holds, began to slowly submerge beneath the surface.
Kurosawa helped the captain to his feet and they made their way to the stern of the boat. The deck fell away from their feet leaving them floating free before they had reached fully aft. The shadow of the Michi Maru was still visible below them as it continued to make its ghostly journey inland, now beneath the water.
The two men tried to stay together as they were swirled along by the powerful eddies and unexpected currents, as all manner of items were carried along with them. The material familiar in its forms, yet alien in its presence, as they bobbed up and down in the great soupy waste.
As they struggled to push off or veer themselves away from the larger items that continually buffeted them, it became increasingly strenuous to hold onto each other. So, when the shattered end of a large uprooted tree struck them from behind, the shock of the impact pushed them apart either side of its broad trunk.
Kurosawa managed to grab hold of its rough bark and frantically heaved himself over the tree trunk in an attempt to grab hold of the captain. But it was to no avail, the captain drifted away from him as the tree was gripped by another fluctuation of the waters, floating him onto a different course.
‘Remember, boy, the sea does not take prisoners, only souls,’ the captain called to him as he disappeared from Kurosawa’s view.
He realised there was nothing he could do for the captain now, so he began to think about how he could help himself. The tree had a large mass of bare branches at the far end and, recognising some semblance of safety there, he made his way along the trunk towards them. Grabbing hold of one of the sturdier branches, he managed to drag himself to the top.
The sizeable spread of the branches gave some stability to the floating tree, so he pulled himself further into the embrace of the nest of branches, leaving him clear of the water.
Perched precariously in his new sanctuary, he was also afforded some protection from being struck by the continuing floating barrage that swept around him, as the protective cradle now encountered a group of floating vans. Their orange colouration and descriptive nomenclature indicating that the vehicles all seemed to be from the same company, probably all having been washed away from their company car park at the same time.
As he stared at the alien sight, their greater collective mass began to push him to one side of the valley. It was shallower here, allowing the submerged section of the branches to entangle themselves within the ragged mess that had sunk below earlier. The trunk of his impromptu life-raft now began to swing about as the force of the tide waned, and it began to ebb back out to sea. The water as it departed now began to accelerate, and he quickly found himself high and dry on a small crest of crumbled and smashed deposits, not a hundred metres from the newly created shoreline over a kilometre inland.
Clambering from his perch, he began to carefully pick his way the short distance across a shoreline that had been transformed into some hideous refuge tip. It took him quite a while to make it across the tangled mess, but eventually he reached the safety of higher ground. As the tide of detritus gave way to civilised normality, he found the beginning of a small axis road, as its unaffected section emerged from the destruction behind him. He followed the road up into the hillside, a short walk taking him into what was left of the town. People here were now extracting themselves from vantage points, from where they had watched the disaster in relative safety, to come and give what help they could to their fellow inhabitants.
He approached a small group and respectfully asked them if he could use one of their cell phones. Several people considerately offered, also asking if they could be of any other assistance on seeing his bedraggled condition. He thanked them for their kindness, explaining to them that he was fine and that he just needed to call his mother to tell her that he was alright. He accepted one of the phones being offered from a still visibly shocked woman. Thanking her he walked a short distance from the group as he started to dial.
His call was quickly picked up, but he listened to only silence as he received no greeting from the other end.
‘Where the fuck have you been?’ came the sharp reply of a female voice.
‘Yes, I’ve been worried about you too, sis,’ he said. ‘Can you come and pick me up?’
‘Yes, but it may take a while to get to you. Do you need directions?’
‘No, I have already triangulated your signal.’
‘Okay, I’ll stay here. I will have to hand this phone back, so do not follow that signal any more, stick to the position you already have, I will stay in that location until you arrive.’
The line went dead, and he tried to call Ikuko, but it went straight to voicemail. He hung up without leaving a message. Then thinking over his situation, the earthquake, his fortunate escape, and the fact he would be working with Azumi now for several days, he realised he needed to create a measure of distance from her for a short while. The borrowed phone indicated it was almost out of charge and he did not wish to use it all, that would be unforgivably discourteous to the lady who had loaned it to him. He redialled Ikuko’s number and left a short message, it was a little direct and to the point, but it showed that he was safe, and felt sure she would understand why he needed some time to himself. Kurosawa returned the phone to its owner, thanking her profusely.
Someone wrapped a blanket around him and pressed a cup of warm green tea in his hand. Two people then gently took hold of his arms and he allowed himself to be guided to a small tea house where a number of other survivors had also been taken.
He sat at a table at the back of the room, with the blanket pulled around him and cupping his hot drink in his hands. He began to process the events of the last few hours; it seemed he could not even get to enjoy his day off anymore!
He contemplated the tsunami, but his thoughts were not tethered to the havoc it wrought or the narrow escape he had from its deadly embrace. To him, it was a manifestation of nature’s raw power or, perhaps, an act of divine will – perspectives shaped by personal beliefs. His own close encounters and life’s journey had long ago crystallised his views on such phenomena, erasing any shades of doubt.
He was thinking more about how it would affect their operation. He was sure it would add complications to it somewhere. He was confident they would be more than capable to accommodate any issues that may arise. Sipping a little of his tea he immediately felt the warming benefits of the bitter brew as he surveyed the vista of destruction across the bay in front him. He hoped that his fellow survivor was also somewhere safe, he smiled to himself, comforted by the thought that it would take a lot to put that old sea dog down.