WITHIN FORTY MINUTES OF THE QUAKE, THE National Guard helicopter dropped Walt Jacobs and the other seismologists at the University of Memphis. The big UH-60 Black Hawk barely touched down before it peeled off after getting an urgent medical evacuation request from a nearby hospital that had sustained severe damage.
Staggered by the widespread destruction he’d seen—it was all around him—Jacobs wasn’t himself when he finally made radio contact with Atkins and Elizabeth. He’d been criticized for equipping each team that had gone to southern Kentucky with a shortwave radio.
He’d insisted on it and taken the heat for the modest extra expense. Now he was vindicated. The quake had destroyed the telephone and cell phone systems, knocking over relay towers and snapping land lines. Communications had broken down throughout the Mississippi Valley.
Without the shortwave, Jacobs wouldn’t have been able to talk to the two geologists closest to the quake’s epicenter.
But this was no time for self-congratulation. It took him nearly an hour before he was finally able to raise Atkins on the radio. Noticing the red light blinking on its console, Elizabeth had switched it on as Atkins changed into dry clothing in the back of the Explorer.
Jacobs got right to the point.
“It was a magnitude 8.4,” he said, his voice strained. “It hit at exactly 2:16 in the morning. The epicenter was five miles west of Blytheville, Arkansas. That puts it at the northwestern axis of the new fault that runs south beyond Memphis.”
Atkins slid into the front seat. He’d heard what Jacobs had said about the magnitude. He wasn’t surprised.
“Do you think you two can get over to the epicenter?” Jacobs asked.
“If we can find a way across the river,” Atkins said. “Any chance of getting a helicopter?”
“None,” Jacobs said. Civilian and military helicopters—anything that could fly—were making emergency medical rescues. They were already overwhelmed.
It was absolutely essential they get instruments set up near the epicenter as soon as possible. Strong motion seismographs would help pinpoint the locations of the aftershocks and determine the depth of the focal point. By recording the distribution and pattern of the aftershocks, they could estimate the potential for more damage.
“In case you can’t, we’ve got some more options,” Jacobs said. “They’ve got some strong motion seismographs at Arkansas State University over at Jonesboro. I’m sure they’ll be setting them up as soon as they can get into the field. I know two of the seismologists over there. They’re only forty miles from the epicenter, and they’re good people, so don’t try anything stupid trying to get there. John. We’ll be all right.”
The transmission started to break up with static. The radio went silent for a few moments. When Jacobs came back on the air, Elizabeth said, “What’s happening in Memphis?”
There was another burst of ground static. When it cleared, Jacobs said, “Memphis as we knew it no longer exists.” He made no attempt to conceal his emotion. “You have no idea what it’s—”
The voice was suddenly lost in static. Elizabeth glanced at Atkins.
“As I look out my office window on Cottage Avenue, I can see fires to the east,” Jacobs said. “I can hear sirens all over the city. Most of the university buildings have been heavily damaged.” The library, dormitories, and student center had been shaken to pieces.
“Our own building is missing part of its northern wall,” Jacobs said. He started to mention Kim So and lost it.
Slumping back in his chair, it took him a few moments before he could trust his voice over the air.
One of their best graduate students, Kim had been in the computer office early that morning, crunching data about the New Madrid Seismic Zone. A piece of the brick chimney had fallen through the roof, crushing her skull. They’d found her lying near her computer.
“Walt, how’s your family?” Atkins asked. He remembered that Jacobs had told him his wife and daughter lived in the city.
“I don’t know,” Jacobs answered. His throat was so dry he could hardly speak. “I haven’t been able to get through to them. It’s a brick house, John. A goddamned brick house, and I’m a seismologist. I’m supposed to know better!”
Then, for a few minutes, they lost contact with Memphis.
“Where did he say the epicenter was?” Atkins asked. He had a topo map spread across his lap and a dome light on.
“Just west of Blytheville.” Elizabeth had already checked the map. The epicenter was about fifty miles south of New Madrid, the focal point of the first of the massive quakes in 1811-1812.
Atkins looked for the closest bridge across the Mississippi. There was one at a small town in extreme southern Missouri. Caruthersville. Crossing to the Tennessee side of the river near Dyersburg, it was about forty miles southwest of Mayfield and ninety miles north of Memphis.
Atkins wondered if the bridge was still standing.