Author's Note- Hey everyone, just to warn you this chapter was particularly emotionally draining to write. Because of the high emotions it might be rough for some of you to read, especially if you have connections to areas that have been affected by similar natural disasters. Anyway, thank you for Pruhana for betaing this chapter. Thank you to Rhino7, Mofalle, Oniongrass, Cutter-Blizzard, Silverclaw the Destined, KaiDreavus213, and various guests who left reviews for the last chapter. Also a very specially hello to all my Alaskan friends out there who took the time to read.
Disclaimer- I do not own Hetalia or a bush plane, but I have been lucky enough to live just north of Alaska's most beautiful mountains.
Chapter 7- Nightmares
England had issues with flying. It wasn't that he did not understand the technology; he did have a degree in engineering from Cambridge University. It also wasn't due to shorter traveling time. No, the reason that England didn't like flying was because he had either been traveling across the ocean or firmly planted on solid ground for over two thousand years. After all that experience, England felt very odd being suspended in the air. Add the fact that there was practically nothing to do until your flight touched down so flying was downright irritating. England had to take back his last thought. There was technically one thing to do while flying…watch the stewardesses.
As far as England could tell they specifically designed those miniskirts to ride up whenever the stewardess did anything more involved than breathing. Under normal circumstances, England probably would have enjoyed the show. These were not normal circumstances and England's worry for America's wellbeing was driving him to the edge of a panic attack.
"Would you be interested in some wine?" England glanced up at the tall woman who was manning a cart of refreshments.
"No thank you, miss." England said a tad bit annoyance and regret.
In truth England wanted the wine, he wanted to forget the reason that he was on this plan bound to the capital city of America. Unfortunately, he couldn't convince himself to get drunk. Not when Canada had called him for help, not when his most powerful ally was in the hospital, his condition unknown. If Russia found out that America's health had been severely compromised, WWIII was a very real possibility. England shuddered and tried to push the thought out of his mind. He attempted to before turning his attention back to the thick stack of diplomatic correspondence he had brought with him. It had been six hours and he still hadn't gotten through the first page.
On the other side of the world, Canada also wasn't enjoying his flight. He was the only passenger was sitting in the back of one of the large military transport planes that the Canadian Royal Air Force used. On a normal day Canada would have been able to list off all of the aircraft details, but right now he couldn't even dredge up the name. Not that it really mattered, Canada admitted to himself. Right now, his first and foremost priority was getting to the side of his wounded brother and ally.
…I believe that the National Guard should cut through the offending landslide and restore the course of the Ship Creek later today or possibly early tomorrow. While it will not solve the problem of the damaged water cisterns, the creek will provide enough water for the city of Anchorage until proper repairs can be made this summer. There are some optimistic people that think that running water might be returned to some parts of town sometime this week, but personally I think that existing infrastructure is too damaged to be useable and that a functioning municipal water system will not be built until early summer.
As for your other question, the one major thing that Anchorage is currently in great need for is increased laundry facilities. The military base laundries are currently working at full tilt washing the linens for all for the hospitals and Red Cross aid stations in the surrounding area. The soldiers on laundry duty are doing a remarkable job given the situation, but they are barely staying ahead of the medical linens, even on a twenty-four hour shift.
The Base laundries have had no opportunities to address the need for clean clothing in the rest of the community. While it is true that many people have access to a spare change of clothing, there is still a large portion of the community that is currently homeless. Many of the people have not had a chance to change clothing in over two days. If more facilities do not open up to deal with both civilian and military everyday laundry, well I don't know any other way to put it, things will probably start getting fairly smelly. Even without concerns about the smell the lack of clean cloths has really public health implications….
Massachusetts fully planned on finishing that sentence before acknowledging the person who was currently standing next to him reading over his shoulder, but eventually the sheer annoyance of having someone breathing down his neck caused him to turn to look the person in the face. It was Lt. Morris. That took away some of his annoyance, but definitely not all of it.
"Can I help you?"
"You don't have any particular orders or attachments that require you to be in Anchorage right?" Harold asked almost timidly.
"No." Massachusetts said as he put down his report. "As long as I can report the medical and sanitation needs of Alaskan communities, I can pretty much do it from anywhere..." Then Massachusetts saw the look in Lt. Morris's eye and started to get worried. "Why are you asking?"
"We have got a bit of a situation."
"What is going on?" Massachusetts asked as he quickly swept his files into the waterproof document bag that never left his side.
"I am sure that you have already heard that Anchorage managed to avoid the brunt of this earthquake…"
"Yes." Massachusetts prompted.
"Well most of the smaller communities are being evacuated either to Anchorage or to towns farther inland, like Fairbanks. Unfortunately there aren't enough resources available to us to transport everyone out of big communities like Whittier or Seward so we are trying to support them by air until the Coast Guard can help set up temporary harbors."
"What exactly does this have to do with me?" Massachusetts eyes narrowed.
"You know we are short handed with medical personal such as doctors and nurses. The community is helping as best they can, but they are not trained to set a fracture or stitch someone up. Both the Lower 48 and the Canadian Government have sent doctors, and have pledged to send more but we have immediate needs right now…"
"So you need me to help provide medical care?"
"Yes and no. I mentioned you to my commander and he thinks that you could help us inoculate the town of Valdez against Typhoid. Normally we would send a several medics to do it, but our hospitals our swamped right now. And it wouldn't be like you would be alone out there; a team of doctors was already dispatched from Fairbanks, so the only thing they would need you for is to give the shots. I know it is a lot to ask, and as a civilian there is no way to order you to go but…"
From the tone of Lt. Morris's voice it was pretty certain that Harold and his commander felt pretty desperate. But it was clear to Massachusetts that he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. There was only one moral option.
"When do I leave?"
England had only been in America for less than two hours and was already in a foul mood. Even with his diplomatic papers it had been a pain to get through customs, the taxi driver had taken him to the wrong entrance of the hospital, and now the nurse at the reception area was saying that there was no patients by the name of Alfred Jones currently checked in to the hospital. England was nearly to the point of saying some fairly undiplomatic things when he spotted a very familiar head of hair with the corner of his eye.
"Alfred!" England half shouted as he ran to catch up with the figure.
"Arthur?" Canada turned around surprised and almost gave the older country a bear hug before thinking better of it. "Arthur I am so glad that you are here."
"Mathew, what in the world is going on? I have been asking for Alfred and they keep on telling that there isn't a patient here by that name…"
"That is because Alfred isn't a patient." Canada replied, nervousness clear in his voice.
"The 'git is injured."And so are you, England added to himself.
"Yes, but Alfred is refusing to get any medical treatment." Canada explained. Well that explains a lot of things, England groaned internally.
"Let's go see if we can talk sense into him."
When Harold told Massachusetts that he would be flying to Valdez, he had assumed that the plane would be a bit, well, bigger. For the past two days he had watched as some of the largest cargo planes owned by the United States military take off and land in Anchorage, now Massachusetts was currently sitting in the cockpit of one of the smallest planes in the fleet, the Canadian built de Havilland Beaver. Well technically this plane didn't belong to the Air Force; instead it belonged to the Civilian Air Patrol the civilian branch of the service. That was the reason the pilot didn't look like typical military personal.
"So you're not from are around here." The heavily bearded and balding pilot commented conversationally. "Where you from?"
"Massachusetts."
"Nice state."
"You have been there?" Massachusetts asked surprised.
"Nope." The pilot stated matter-a-factly.
"Oh…" Massachusetts commented, not really knowing what else to say.
Due to the fact that he was the only passenger in the supply packed plane and the Beaver was too small to require a copilot, the craft lapsed into an awkward silence. To past time Massachusetts chose to examine the jagged peaks they were flying amongst. Even marred with the tracks of recent avalanches and landslides he couldn't help but admire just how spectacular they were. He must have had a strange look on his face because the pilot began to chuckle.
"Sorry." Massachusetts said with mock offence. "Some of us don't get to see this type of scenery every day."
"If you think this is nice you should go visit the Brooks someday." The pilot said, a hint of pride in his voice.
"The Brooks?"
"The most northern mountain range in the United States."
"Will we see it?" Massachusetts started to scan the horizon to which the pilot gave a sharp barking laugh.
"My goodness boy, do you realize just how big this state is?"
"By your reaction, I am assuming I don't."
"That would be an understatement."
"Okay." Massachusetts said levelly. "Teach me. Let's start out with something simple. How many mountain ranges are in Alaska? Two?"
"Try fourteen?" The pilot laughed again.
"Where is there space to put them all?"
"I told you Alaska was big." The pilot was still laughing, but a little more thoughtfully. For a few moments he checked his map and pointed in a direction that Massachusetts assumed was north. "Now if it was clear enough we might be able to see Mount McKinley, which is the tallest summit in North America. But even the summits of the Alaskan Range have nothing on the Brooks Range. Even the most famous mountain in Alaska can't hold a candle to her most beautiful one."
"Which is?"
"Arrigetch Peaks, there in…"
"The Brooks Range, I get it."
"Good because we are almost there." The pilot said as a wide fjord opened up in front of them.
Massachusetts couldn't help letting his jaw drop as an angry ocean flanked by stoic peaks stretched below them. Then, a black smudge against the snow came into view. The tiny speck of civilization the state spotted had to be the city of Valdez. Even from the air it was easy to see that most of the city had been destroyed. There were the ruin of houses, the tangled mass that must have once been a dock, there was but one important feature Massachusetts did not see amongst the destruction: a runway.
"Where are we going to land?"
"That's the nice thing about bush planes, they can land pretty much anywhere." The pilot remarked as the Beaver approached a large gravel patch and the ground rushed up to greet them. All Massachusetts could do was hope he was right.
It couldn't be much past four in the morning. America had been standing vigil for his wounded state for just over a day and a half now. He was exhausted, but this was a job that he could trust no one else with. At first the medical staff had tried to convince him to allow his collection of scrapes and cuts to be treated. Now they didn't bother to try to convince the stubborn nation. They would slip in and out of the room like ghosts, taking a temperature here or blood pressure there. Sometimes they would bring something to eat and leave it at America's elbow. He never did more than pick at it.
Suddenly, America realized that he had let his eyes drift shut. He opened them and realized that it was the soft sounds of rustling sheets that had woken him. Searching for the source of the sound America scanned the darkened room and until he noticed that Alaska's right hand was quivering. He reached out to touch it, but her fingers slipped through his hands.
Her eyes met his in a moment of clarity. It took a few moments for Alfred to realize what she was doing. She was trying to comfort him. She knew she was facing the end, and she was trying to comfort him. He tried to open his mouth, to say something. To say anything that would ease his state's suffering. But he never got the chance. Her eyes had already drifting closed, and she was gone.
The alarms screamed, the doctors and nurses rushed in. But Alfred barely felt their presence as he tried to cling to the last traces of Alaska's being. His fingers clung to the mass of bloody bandages and sheets on the bed, his nose desperately trying to breath in the last of Alaska's scent.
"Where is she?" The doctor's asked in a panic at the sight of the now empty bed, but America barely noticed them.
Humans had a body that they could attempt to revive. Humans had the chance to say goodbye to mortal remains. Nations didn't have that option. Nations…when a nation died they didn't leave anything behind. No body, no grave, only the monuments of a dead civilization and a few lines in the history books.
"Samantha is gone. Alaska is dead." America sobbed, burying his head in his hands. Slowly he realized that that someone was gentle shaking his shoulder, but he was too tired to force his eyes open. His soul too lost in despair to care who it was.
"Alfred…For goodness sakes America, it is just a dream. Wake Up!" England yelled into America's ear while shaking him as hard as he dared.
"But I killed her." America sobbed.
"Wake up, now!"
"Iggy?" The super power asked. He latched onto the older nation, like a drowning man clinging to a spar, even while his voice was filled with doubt.
"Alfred, did you honestly think it is that easy to kill a state?" The look of fear and terror in America's eyes told England more that any words could have. He frowned and patted the frightened nation quietly on head. "Really America, it is true that Alaska is a mess right now. Yes, this is going to take a long recovery, but the point is that she will recover. Alaska, like all of your states is made of tougher stuff."
"But it seemed so real." America whimpered.
"Nightmares sometimes are…"
"England…" America didn't finish the sentence instead he buried his head in his fellow countries shoulder.
"Shhh," England soothed, as he gentle smoothed his fingers through his former colony's hair. "It is okay America. Everything is going to be okay."
Eventually the muffled sobs petered out and the wet patch on England's shirt began to dry. Still England continued to cradle his ally, humming the lullabies that he had sung to him when he was a child, until he was sure that America was asleep. Then England eased the giant nation back into his seat. He needed to talk to the hospital staff about finding America a proper bed.
Canada had been resting his hand and chin on the edge of Alaska's bed when England entered the room. He was still and quiet, that for a few moments it almost seemed like England thought that Canada was asleep. He was slightly startled when the northern nation spoke.
"How is Alfred?"
"He finally crashed, and is finally in a proper bed." England said, pulling up one of the chairs and settled heavily on it. "I think that some of his doctors are currently treating his injuries."
"That's good." Canada said with a yawn.
"Why don't you go get some sleep?" Concern was clear in England's voice.
"I will in a little while." Canada soothed. "I think I would like to sit with her for a bit longer." Canada stretched for a few moments and the rested his chin on his palm. "You know, I have always thought of her as a sister."
"I know. You have always been close in both geography and culture. There was a time when I hoped that Alaska would become part of Canada…"
As England spoke, Canada's eyes were slowly drifted close. Soon Canada's breath had evened out to a soft snore. The elder nation wrapped a spare blanket around his former colony's shoulders. With a soft kiss on his charge's forehead, England left to find a cot for Canada.
At one point in time, Valdez had been a thriving town. That community was now gone.
Massachusetts had seen towns die before. He had, as a child, witnessed native communities succumb to diseases or exterminated in the battles fought over control of land. All of those events had left the smell of death and blood in the air, but none of them could compare to the level of devastation he was currently witnessing in Valdez. The only think that Massachusetts could compare it to was the ruins of a few Midwestern communities that had been swallowed by a tornado, or the bombed out German towns he had seen at the end of WWII.
With most of the residents evacuated to communities farther inland, Valdez was little better than a ruin. About forty percent of the town, including the docks and the main commerce area, had been washed away by pounding of tsunamis. The mayor, one of the few Valdez residents who stayed to help the military sort through the mess, said that they had lost count of how many tidal waves had hit the community after about twentieth. The man had estimated that they must have had about two hundred tsunamis hit their community during first seven hours after the quake.
The parts of town untouched by the tsunamis weren't much better off. At least sixty-five percent of the buildings that were still standing had been shaken clean off of their foundations. Most of the rest were either burned out or were half sunken into the soft deltaic soil. Hungry dogs now prowled the broken, empty streets. It was a scene straight out of an apocalypse. Massachusetts suspected that the only thing preventing the air from being filled with the sickly-sweet scent of decay was the frigid temperatures of the late winter's day.
Massachusetts had spent the morning mechanically inoculating the citizens and soldiers left guarding Valdez. As he worked he saw the hollowed stares of the men and women who had watched their homes, their friends, their lives being swallowed by the earth and the sea. Their pain was echoed in the faces of the National Guard troops who had been given the grim task of combing the debris strewn beaches searching for any sign of the 32 missing citizens of Valdez.
With the inoculation of the population done, Massachusetts found that there was little to distract him from the desolation of the place. As he tiredly stared out to a sea still filled with the debris of homes and boats, Massachusetts couldn't help but wonder if a place like Valdez could ever rebuild after such a tragedy?
Historical Note- The U.S. Civil Air Patrol (CAP) is the civilian branch of the U.S. Air Force. It is primarily made up of retired military personal and civilian pilots. CAP's mission is primarily to provide flight support during times of natural disaster or other disaster. They also help with search and rescue mission, and medical transport missions for the Red Cross. Since 9/11 CAP had also begun to play a major role in national security and preventing drug trafficking. For all of you Brits out there, the Sky Watch program was modeled after the American Civil Air Patrol.
The CAP has played a major role in many of America's natural disasters, but it was especially important during the Good Friday Earthquake. In the aftermath, the specialized bush planes that the many of the CAP pilots flew were the only aircraft that could reach the most badly affected communities. They flew through bad weather and rough seas to bring life giving supplies, even though many of them had also just lost their homes to the tsunami. To show the important of these men's mission I would like to close this historical note with a transcript of an actual radio transition from Good Friday.
P 281555Z MAR 64
FM USCGC SEDGE
TO CCGDSEVENTEEN
KODIAKSARCOORD
BT
UNCLAS
EARTHQUAKE, TIDAL WAVES.
1. TOWN OF CHENEGA DESTROYED, HALF OF POPULATION MISSING. THEY REQUIRE ASSISTANCE BADLY. IF CORDOVA AIRPORT IS OPEN, CORDOVA CAP (CIVIL AIR PATROL) COULD LAND CHENEGA.
2. EXTENT OF ASSISTANCE REQUIRED IN VALDEZ NOT YET DETERMINED.
BT
End Note- Hey everyone; hope you have enjoyed the post. Before I sign of I do have a question for all of you. Are there any particular aspects of tsunami or earthquake science that you would like to learn about? If so let me know and I will do my best incorporate it into the plot.
Next Chapter- Perspective- The world's seismic experts are all working around the clock trying to understand the impact of the Good Friday Earthquake, and what they discover forces them to rewrite the textbooks of seismology. But despite the violence of the earthquake, it is clear that the Alaskan people are willing to fight for survival in the wake of this disaster.