Page 12 of The Presidents Shadow

I DON’T KNOW a word of Danish, but I don’t need to understand it to realize the seriousness of whatever is happening.

There is sheer panic in the newscasters’ voices.

They seem to be talking over one another, interrupting one another, yelling at one another.

The English translation can’t seem to keep up with the words being spoken.

We see the English words:

A DEVASTATION IS ABOUT TO APPEAR.

“A devastation is about to appear?” I ask aloud. What does that even mean? I think of Kyoto. Is this a replay of that madness? Will mountains fall? Will the Earth crack open?

Then we hear more of the mishmash of foreign words.

“Baltic!” shouts Margo. “They’re saying something about the Baltic.”

“The sea,” Jessica says. “The Baltic Sea is where Denmark is.”

Now, finally, English words come swirling by on the screen:

A TIDAL WAVE, UNLIKE ANY TIDAL WAVE EVER RECORDED, IS ESTIMATED TO BE ONLY MINUTES AWAY FROM THE ISLAND THAT HOLDS COPENHAGEN.

I recall that most of Denmark is a peninsula, but the capital city of Copenhagen is located on a nearby island.

The newscasters sound terrified. Their words are translated for those of us watching from thousands of miles away. Panic. Nothing but panic. How could it not be? The newscasters are as frightened as anyone, but many of them are staying at their posts, boldly reporting, doing their jobs.

On the screen comes another flurry of English words.

WE ARE TOLD TO FIND SHELTER. BUT WHERE? WHERE IN GOD’S WORLD IS THERE A SAFE PLACE? WHAT IS HAPPENING? PLEASE, GOD.

Some brave fool is broadcasting now from the center of the city. Small amounts of water—nothing terrifying yet, I think—are beginning to splash onto the camera lens.

“In the back, the cathedral,” I yell, as if he can hear me. “Climb to the top of the cathedral!”

“No,” says Margo, her voice calm and flat. “I don’t think it’s tall enough.”

“Of course it’s tall enough,” I argue, turning to her.

But when I see her expression—blank and staring—I turn back to the screen.

The cameraman must have dropped the camera and run away, because the only thing I can see is sky.

Then I realize it’s not the sky—this is the tidal wave!

It reaches so high, nothing else can be seen.

I think of the people who are about to disappear—all the extraordinary, notable people gathered for the awards ceremony.

The scholars, artists, scientists, doctors, writers, the international array of presidents, kings, and queens.

Not to mention everyone else; the sound engineers, the chefs who make the sandwiches, the parents who have taken their children to witness this great and glorious event.

I cannot control my beating heart and my fear.

And then the screen goes black.