Inferno in Tokyo Read online

  To Katherine Paterson for introducing me to the life of Toyohiko Kagawa

  Inferno in Tokyo

  © 2017 Focus on the Family

  A Focus on the Family book published by Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188.

  The Imagination Station, Adventures in Odyssey, and Focus on the Family and their accompanying logos and designs, are federally registered trademarks of Focus on the Family, 8605 Explorer Drive, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.

  TYNDALE and Tyndale’s quill logo are registered trademarks of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.

  All Scripture quotations have been taken from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version. Copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of Focus on the Family.

  With the exception of known historical figures, all characters are the product of the author’s imagination.

  Cover design by Michael Heath | Magnus Creative

  ISBN: 978-1-58997-879-9

  For Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data for this title, visit http://www.loc.gov/help/contact-general.html.

  For manufacturing information regarding this product, please call 1-800-323-9400.

  For information about special discounts for bulk purchses, please contact Tyndale House Publishers at [email protected], or call 1-800-323-9400.

  Build: 2017-09-14 17:02:48

  Contents

  Prologue

  1: The Tsunami

  2: Fire!

  3: The Bridge

  4: The Elephant

  5: Rescued

  6: The Temple

  7: Chibi-chan

  8: The American Embassy

  9: The Imperial Hotel

  10: Room 208

  11: The Crown Prince

  12: The Tornado Fire

  13: Mrs. Woods

  14: The Missing Doll

  15: Reunions

  Appendix

  Prologue

  At Whit’s End, a lightning storm zapped the Imagination Station’s computer. Then the Imagination Station began to do strange things. It took the cousins to the wrong adventures. The machine also gave the wrong gifts.

  Mr. Whittaker was gone, and so Eugene was in charge of the workshop. An older version of the Imagination Station was found. It looked like a car. It had a special feature called lockdown mode. The cousins used this machine for their adventures. But it began to break down too.

  At the end of book 19, Light in the Lions’ Den, Eugene was still locked in a jail cell in Little Rock, Arkansas, in the year 1874. The cousins were waiting in the ancient Babylonian desert. Beth held a small yellow gadget with a light that was flashing red. Here’s what happened next:

  The car Imagination Station appeared.

  Patrick reached for the door. “Yikes,” he said. “It’s even hotter than before.”

  “Get in,” Eugene said through the machine’s speakers. “Your next adventure is to find Nikola Tesla. Only he can get us all back home.”

  “Nike cola who?” Patrick asked.

  Beth interrupted. “How are you talking to us, Eugene?” she asked.

  “I got Mr. Pinkerton to give me back the computer,” Eugene said. “But it has only a little battery power left.”

  Beth saw Patrick get inside the Imagination Station and then followed him. Beth felt a static shock as she climbed inside the machine. The seat made her skin tingle.

  Beth grabbed the knob on the dashboard.

  “Ouch,” she said. “It’s hot.”

  Patrick took off his coat. He put it over the knob and pulled it back.

  The windshield began to spin.

  “Wait,” Eugene’s voice said through the speakers. “I forgot to—”

  Suddenly it was silent. Everything went black.

  The Tsunami

  Patrick felt a gentle rocking motion. He opened his eyes. The Imagination Station was bobbing on a large bay.

  Patrick slid his fingers around the door and window seams. He glanced at the floor. It was dry. No leaks.

  “The Imagination Station makes a fine boat,” Beth said. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t disappear.”

  “Yeah, or we’ll be swimming,” Patrick said.

  Beth leaned toward the windshield. “Keep your eye on the coastline,” she said, pointing. “Something doesn’t look quite right. There’s some dust in the sky.”

  The Imagination Station speakers suddenly blared, “Scientists estimate that the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923 was 7.9 in magnitude.”

  “That’s huge!” Beth said.

  The speakers continued. “The cities of Yokohama and Tokyo . . . Tok . . . Tok . . . Tok . . .” The machine fell silent.

  “The Imagination Station’s announcer is broken again,” Beth said. “But at least we know we’re near Japan. And it’s the 1920s.”

  “And there’s going to be an earthquake,” Patrick said. “It’ll be cool.”

  Patrick watched as the cliff along the coast seemed to rise. It looked like a giant mole was moving under the ground. Wood houses, shops, and wide boardwalks were pushed upward. Then suddenly they dropped.

  The hairs on the back of Patrick’s neck prickled.

  Suddenly a crack in the land appeared. A huge section of earth slowly slid into the water. People and buildings disappeared with it.

  Part of the city was gone in fewer than forty seconds. Only a few telephone poles were left. They were sticking out of the water. They looked like straws in a giant mud milk shake.

  Patrick held his breath in shock. This earthquake wasn’t cool. It was terrible.

  He let out his breath when he saw movement. A few heads appeared in the water. Then several people began to swim. Others churned the water, arms and legs flailing.

  “We have to help those people,” Beth said.

  “Maybe the Imagination Station will take us,” Patrick said.

  He grabbed the knob on the dashboard. It was cool now. He pulled it. Nothing happened.

  He tried to roll down the window. The handle wouldn’t move.

  Patrick opened the glove box. He pushed every button and flipped every switch inside. No lights flickered. No buzzers sounded. No colors flashed across the windshield.

  “How can we get to the people?” Patrick asked. “The Imagination Station is just sitting here. It’s not moving. The speakers are dead. It’s completely broken this time.”

  The machine began to rise as if to answer him. Patrick looked out the side window. The water was lifting the machine.

  “A wave is carrying us,” he said.

  “The wind has picked up,” Beth said.

  Suddenly the Imagination Station began to spin. A loud rushing noise filled the inside of the car. The wave moved faster.

  “This is a tsunami!” Beth cried.

  Patrick felt dizzy as they whirled toward land. A cliff loomed ahead. The Imagination Station would surely crash into it!

  The wave turned at the last second. The water pushed the machine farther into the bay.

  Higher and faster the wave rose. Patrick looked out the side window again.

  The raging sea was tossing a large passenger ship. A few smaller fishing boats were churning in the surf. They looked like toys caught in a giant blender.

  The wave was higher than a three-story building. The front of the machine dipped and then flipped over.

  Patrick and Beth dangled upside down. Their seat belts held them in their seats.

  “Hang on,” Patrick shouted to Beth.<
br />
  “I am!” Beth said.

  Patrick felt so dizzy he closed his eyes.

  Beth dangled upside down in her seat. The seat belt dug into her hips. Her hair fell in front of her face. Something white fell off her head.

  The Imagination Station stilled. Beth brushed her hair away and looked out the window. The machine was at rest on land.

  All was still for a moment. Beth caught her breath.

  Then another wave came. It lifted the Imagination Station and rolled it farther inland. But this time it landed upright.

  Beth sank into her seat. She looked out the window again. Great black clouds filled the sky. It was dark and smoky.

  “Get out,” Patrick said.

  “How?” Beth asked. “The Imagination Station is stuck in lockdown mode.”

  A man’s face suddenly pressed against the windshield. He was soaking wet. His straight black hair was plastered to his head. His round eyeglasses made him look strangely owl-like.

  The man blinked.

  Then the door on Beth’s side of the car opened.

  The wind rushed in with a howl. The sound hurt her ears.

  “Hurry,” the man shouted. “More water is coming.” He motioned with his arm toward the bay.

  Beth unclipped the seat belt. She noticed she was wearing a white summer dress. She spotted the piece of white fabric that fell from her head. She grabbed it and then scrambled out of the Imagination Station.

  Patrick followed, climbing over her seat. He was in a boy’s suit with a white shirt.

  “Run!” the man cried. His agile body moved quickly toward a row of buildings.

  Beth didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Patrick’s arm. The cousins ran. The wall of churning white foam raced toward them.

  Fire!

  A hot, thick, fishy mist was in the air. It coated Patrick’s skin as he ran.

  He was afraid. But he slowed after a minute of running. He had to watch the tsunami. He dropped Beth’s hand and turned toward Tokyo Bay.

  The foamy wave reached its crest. The water wall collapsed on a row of wood buildings. The force of the wave knocked down the structures like toothpicks.

  The buildings collapsed with a loud crash and a strange, low bellow. Then the wave dragged the flattened homes into the hungry sea.

  The Imagination Station was pulled underwater too.

  Patrick felt a pang of fear. He and Beth might never leave Japan.

  Just then the wind picked up. Another wave began to swell.

  A large, damp maple leaf blew into Patrick’s face. He pulled it off and turned toward Beth and the man.

  They stood together not far from him. Each was bending over and gasping for breath.

  The man was young. He wore a suit with a white shirt and a narrow black tie.

  Rows and rows of small wood houses were behind him. Several of the homes were already on fire. Red-and-orange flames leaped from the windows.

  People ran in all directions, shouting and crying.

  Most of the adults carried clothes or blankets in their arms. Others pushed wood carts filled with household goods.

  People of all ages bustled through the narrow streets. Children followed the adults or rode on top of carts. The children’s small faces were full of fear.

  Beth turned to the man. “This was an earthquake. And it caused a tsunami,” she said. “But why are there fires, too?”

  “The earth moved Tokyo just before noon,” the man said, pointing to his wristwatch. The time was now twenty minutes past twelve.

  “All the people were home for lunch,” he continued. “But their cookstoves must have fallen over. Their kerosene heaters also. I imagine the people were frightened and ran away. No one was left to put out the fires.”

  Patrick watched the wind lift sparks from the burning roofs. The glowing embers landed on other rooftops. Other rows of homes would soon be ablaze.

  Behind the city stood a tall mountain with a brown peak. Patrick knew it was a volcano called Mount Fuji. He was thankful it didn’t appear to be erupting.

  “What do we do?” Patrick asked the man. “Is there any place that’s safe?”

  The man looked around at the masses of running, frightened people. Smoke was rushing toward the sky. It mixed with the swirling wind from the tsunami. The sky blackened. The afternoon sun was dimmed.

  Beth put a hand on the man’s forearm. She said, “God helped us through you. You opened the car door.”

  Patrick added a thank-you in Japanese, “Domo arigato, Mr.—”

  But Beth cut him off. “Yes, thank you, Mr. . . . What is your name?”

  “Kagawa,” the man said. “Toyohiko Kagawa.”

  “I’m Beth,” she said. “And this is my cousin, Patrick.” She motioned to Patrick with her hand.

  The man bowed in greeting.

  Suddenly a tremor hit.

  Patrick felt the ground shake. He moved his feet wide as if he were surfing. That helped him keep himself upright. The earth rose and fell in a wave. Patrick flailed his arms to stay balanced.

  A loud groan came from the earth.

  A fissure suddenly opened between his feet. The gap widened like a giant mouth.

  Patrick’s feet spread wider and wider.

  “Jump!” Beth shouted. “Or you’ll fall in!”

  Patrick lifted one foot and fell backward to the ground. He landed on his rear end.

  Mr. Kagawa held out a hand to Patrick. Patrick grabbed it and stood.

  More high-pitched screams filled the air. Two houses fell sideways and collapsed. A cloud of dirt and dust rose from the ground.

  Somehow the people rushed even faster after the tremor.

  “The river isn’t far from here,” Mr. Kagawa said. “We must cross the bridge or the fire will trap us.”

  The Bridge

  Beth and Patrick followed Mr. Kagawa through the narrow streets. They zigzagged through the crowds.

  Beth had to watch each step to avoid holes and fissures. She looked at her white shoes. How could she keep patent leather shoes clean in this mess?

  She sighed and breathed deeply. The salty air smelled of fish, smoke, and sweaty people. It tingled the inside of Beth’s nose.

  She glanced at Patrick. Just then a gust of wind lifted something off the ground. It came at them like a Frisbee.

  Patrick snatched the round object out of the air. It was a straw hat with a brown fabric band. He pulled it down on his head. But it blew away as soon as he let it go.

  Mr. Kagawa kept moving slowly. He dodged carts and bustling people. Patrick and Beth followed patiently.

  Beth bumped into a Japanese woman with a scarf over her face. “Sorry,” Beth mumbled.

  The woman had a long pole across her shoulders. Two buckets hung from each end of the pole. A young boy about eight years old stood at her side.

  The woman nodded and said, “Sumimasen.” A young child was tied to her back with a pink sash.

  The toddler was bundled in a pink blanket. She held a wood doll with an egg-sized head. Its bright-red clothes and shiny black hair were painted on.

  A nearby man said something to the woman in Japanese. She quickly grasped the boy’s hand and moved away. The family vanished into the crowd within seconds.

  Beth, Patrick, and Mr. Kagawa arrived at the riverbank minutes later.

  Beth paused and studied the scene.

  The river was wide, swift, and foamy.

  A simple, low bridge spanned the water. Three brick pillars supported the bridge. One pillar stood at each end. Another pillar held up the middle. The bridge looked almost as long as a football field.

  Short, wide stone posts stood at the bridge entrance. People squeezed past the posts and onto the bridge. Most people had bundles and carts. Some pushed bicycles or pulled rickshaws that had large, spoked wheels. Everyone was crammed together.

  Then Beth saw the trouble. Japanese refugees were trying to cross the bridge in both directions. Hundreds of frightened people pushed onto the bridge
from either end. It was one big people jam!

  She looked back at the blazing houses. The fire had doubled in size. Smoke poured into the sky.

  “Why are so many people heading toward the fire?” Beth asked Patrick.

  “Maybe they’re parents going home to find their kids,” Patrick said.

  Beth nodded sadly. She knew her parents would search for her no matter the danger.

  A group of men jumping into the water caught Beth’s attention. They linked arms and began to swim across the river.

  “I guess they’re in a hurry,” Beth said.

  “Mr. Kagawa is too,” Patrick said.

  Their friend motioned toward Beth and Patrick. He clearly wanted them to push their way onto the bridge.

  Beth went first. She inhaled to make herself as thin as possible. She squeezed between people who carried bundles, babies, or blankets.

  Ragged breaths and muffled sobs surrounded her. Some people called out for loved ones. Others wailed. Still more shouted angrily.

  But the refugees who frightened Beth the most were silent. Their faces looked dazed and lifeless.

  Beth suddenly felt alone even though people surrounded her. She panicked and wriggled through the throng, leaving Patrick behind. Finally she got to the end of the bridge.

  Beth climbed up on top of one of the wide stone posts. She looked over the crowd to find her cousin.

  Patrick followed Mr. Kagawa. They elbowed their way to the middle of the crowd.

  Mr. Kagawa stopped. He began talking to the people in Japanese. He steered them using gestures and gentle pushes.

  He’s trying to move people to form lanes, Patrick thought.

  Patrick helped Mr. Kagawa direct the people. Together they guided those going east to the right. Those heading west were motioned to the left.

  The people on the bridge began to move faster.

  “We’ve helped all we can here,” Mr. Kagawa said. “Now it’s time for us to cross too.”

  Patrick hadn’t seen Beth for at least two minutes. He scanned the crowd for her.