The Yellowstone Conundrum by John Randall

I-90/I-5 interchange upper center. Permission granted by photographer Derrick Coetzee, Wikipedia administrator.
     

    Downtown Seattle: Alaskan Way viaduct runs along lower edge; I-5 separates downtown from medical districts and neighborhoods; Lake Washington at top; Union Bay, Montlake Cut, University of Washington along top of photo.  Permission granted by Walter Seigmund, Wikipedia Commons.
     
      The tsunami wave overtopped the marina in one giant leap, then smashed the piers, bounced, crossed the highway, and with a whoosh landed on Alaskan Way, bounced forty feet into the air and continued straight through the artificial canyons of roads and streets, wrecking the first floor of every building in its path.
      Five blocks to the south, the Wenatchee crossed two blocks of above ground parking and slammed into the infrastructure on the eastern side of the Alaskan Viaduct, jamming its huge self underneath a section of the overhead highway’s undestroyed roadway, half of it coming through to the eastern side as the southbound traffic lane fell; like a subway coming to an abrupt stop at the end of a construction site. 
      The Wenatchee slammed through the mess of parked cars and came to an abrupt stop at the foot of Madison Street, trapped by the concrete and rebar of the old elevated highway. Behind came a wave that tried to lift the Wenatchee up on the wings of eagles, but failed. The wave poured through the badly damaged boat, sweeping cars out from the lower level parking decks, tumbling them onto Madison Street; no one would survive the car decks. 
      On the observation decks above, the wave rushed through the lower deck, like water pouring into the sinking Titanic; on the upper deck, the ladders and stairways leading up from the deck below were like a whale’s blowhole. On the top deck, the pilot’s house was sheered, scrunched by the impact with the northbound lanes of the Alaskan Viaduct. Captain Duvall and his crew were killed instantly, as if a building had fallen on them.
      On open side streets water greedily gathered purchase, climbing uphill toward the main business district; cars, buses, trash cans, dead people, building debris all washed uphill toward Second Ave., which now was beyond one-way South. First-floor storefronts were ripped, scoured like Christ by the centurions, then eaten by the second and third waves of water; all flowing uphill to Third Avenue; the Blue Water Taco Grill, and a Wells Fargo bank, Sound Soups, Boka Kitchen and Bar, the Metropolitan Grill, the Library Bistro, North Face, Owl ‘n Thistle, Fado’s Irish Pub, the Cherry Street Coffee House—all were gone.
      Further south, the tsunami wiped out the lowlands first, just like the cruise ship piers to the north, and then smashed through the shipyards where boats from afar came to offload goods from Asia to US markets; rushing southwards with nothing in its way but warehouse buildings asking to be dropped like a bad habit, the tsunami completely destroyed all of Harbor Island, an island dedicated to import/exports and the shipping trades. 
      Beyond, the tsunami invaded the sports complexes for the Mariners and Seahawks, bringing debris, dead bodies, building parts, automobiles, tires, tons of dead fish, pieces of boats and everything that would float into the flat areas used as parking lots; flowing all the way up to Harborview Hospital.
      Seattle’s version of the Big Dig was the on-going replacement of the Alaskan Way Viaduct and Seawall Replacement Program; a massive project that would eliminate the Viaduct and enable Seattle to have a spectacular waterfront park. The South portal entrance under the waterfront harbor began just west of the Mariners/Seahawks sports complex. Water poured into the unfinished tunnel. 
      Reaching its watery fingers as far inland as it could, the tsunami rested, almost as if pausing for reflection, and then slowly began to drain back into Elliott Bay.
      The lights were out. It was 6:50