ALLUSIVE AFTERSHOCK (7 page)

The sight of Adela
brought a small twinge of ease to my broken heart. She almost hadn’t survived
the quake. If I hadn’t pulled her to the wall with me … well, I hated to think
what would have happened. The vision of her momentarily lulled me from my grief
as I watched her standing stiffly, eyes wide and her hand fisted around her
sweater as part of it hung on the ground. She took a step toward me, her mouth
open as if she were about to speak when Maxen Wendell grabbed her arm and
tugged her along with him—again—shouting that they needed to get home. It was
clear she was in shock. Her eyes remained fixated on mine and her body appeared
numb as she placed one leg in front of the other, dragging her sweater along in
the dirt and swaying her arms like an old rag doll. I wanted to chase after
them, to yank her from Max’s grasp and take possession, protect her. Instead, I
released a sigh and stared after her.

At least she was alive.

Her eyes held mine
while Max pulled her toward the parking lot until I could no longer make out
her beautiful but frightened face.

I looked down at
Shiloh. I needed to get going, check if anyone needed help, but not one muscle
in my body would move. As if frozen, my eyes stayed fixed on my dead best
friend.

Haunted by the vision
of Courtland crouched amongst the debris, rocking Shiloh in his arms, and
looking up at me with … God … wet teary eyes, my mind somehow just registered
that my legs were moving. I needed to catch my breath because my heart broke
for him.

“Max, wait, please.” I
tugged back, making him stop.

I looked around; everything
was in ruins. The hillside next to the student parking lot had collapsed into
the asphalt, burying several cars, Max’s Tahoe included.

“Great, just great.”
Max ran his hand through his mess of blond curls. “We’re going to have to hoof
it.”

The hillside had also
crashed into the Post Office next door to the parking lot, knocking down the
back wall and filling the entire building with dirt and muck.

Max grabbed my arm and
pulled me along. We made it the half mile to Scully Road, which was still far
from home. My ears resounded with screams and sobs from all around us. It seemed
odd how some of the buildings remained standing, while others lay in shambles,
some with cars crushed under them. Broken glass lay everywhere. A toppled over electrical
pole had crushed a Prius down the center, killing the driver. My stomach twisted
and my head swam in nauseating circles.

My legs rubbered out
and I stopped running again. Max turned toward me. “What’s wrong? We need to go
home!” His tone hummed with an irritating urgency. “Don’t you want to get to
your mom and dad?”

“Yes, but …” I leaned
over and puked all over his sneakers.

“Uhhh…” Max groaned,
holding his hand over his mouth.

“Sorry. I need a
minute.” Too frightened to be embarrassed and unable to stand any longer, I sat
in the middle of the street, one leg bent up. Resting my hands and forehead on my
knee, I attempted to compose myself as a disgusting, rank odor like gasoline
and burning rubber whizzed by my nose and I hurled again. At least this time I
missed Max’s shoes.

“Jeez.” Max glanced
around the area, as though looking for something. “Okay. Stay here a minute. I’ll
be right back.” I waved him off, not wanting to look at him in my nauseated
state. He headed toward a pile of wreckage, picked up some sort of rag, and brought
it to me. “Here, it’s the best I could find.” I took the small piece of cloth
and wiped the vomit from my chin and sweater before handing it back to him so
he could clean up too. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die when I looked at
the goop on his black high-tops.

An explosion burst
through the air and I almost jumped out of my skin. I turned toward the noise
and stared in horror at the sight of the Arco gas station completely engulfed
in flames. The fire immediately spread into a clump of trees between the
station and the half-demolished grocery store about six feet from where Max stood.

“Max!” I screamed and
leaped up forgetting about the clenching in my stomach.

Max hurried back and
grabbed my hand again. We ran, hopping over broken brick, concrete, glass, and
wood from collapsed buildings, swerving between and around abandoned cars stopped
or smashed along the road. Max never let go of my hand. Trees and buildings
consumed in flames glowered around us, the heat almost too much to bear. The
scent of gas permeated the air along with the muck of smoke and debris. Water
spewed up from a broken fire hydrant, knocked it on its side by the delivery
truck now perched on top of it and I gasped at the sight of a bloodied man’s
head hanging out the window.

I wanted to be home
more than anything now. Did we even have a home? Were my mom and dad okay? The
twins? What about Big Blue? I fought back tears, trying to convince myself they
were all fine and probably wondering where I was. I squeezed my eyes shut to
picture my mom pacing the living room, worrying and telling my dad they needed
to find me.

All of a sudden, we stopped
running. I glanced up to see why and gaped with horror at the road in front of us.
The broken asphalt had buckled into a pile about twelve feet high, obstructing our
way. The crumbled debris from the buildings on both sides blocked the entire
area. With the newly formed abyss in front of us and the out-of-control inferno
behind us closing in fast, we were trapped.

“We’re going to have to
climb over. Can you make it?” Max yelled.

“I think so.” I nodded,
not sure he could hear me because I couldn’t hear myself—the noise around us
drowned out my extremely hoarse voice.

“Okay, follow me. Try
to step where I step. Some of this stuff doesn’t look too sturdy and might
collapse under us.”

Max stepped up onto the
pile where it formed a three-foot ledge, and stretched out his hand to me. Grabbing
hold, he hoisted me up onto the block. After he released my hand, he continued
to climb, slowly and gently tapping his foot and testing each piece of concrete
before putting all of his weight onto it. Careful to place my foot exactly
where his had been, I followed close behind until we reached the top.

Max stopped suddenly, almost
losing his balance and falling forward.

“Oh God,” he sighed,
bending over, clutching his knees.

I’d seen a similar
expression of defeat in Max once or twice on the soccer field after missing a
goal, but this was much worse.

“What? What’s wrong?” I
placed my foot next to his at the top of the ledge and stared down as I realized
what made Max recoil—a forty-foot drop about fifteen feet wide.

Max crouched down, looked
at me, and shook his head. “There’s nowhere to go.”

I finally let go of
Shiloh, not wanting to leave her there on the ground, but what could I do? I
willed my legs to straighten and stared at the rubble around me. So much
damage. Cries and whimpers reverberated through the air from all directions. I
glanced around, searching for anybody who needed help. From what I could make
out, most of the whimpering came from kids standing around, looking dazed and
confused as though they were extras in a D-rated zombie movie. I choked on fragments
of dust clouds and stepped over fallen walls, searching for signs of anybody
trapped. How could any of this be real?

I headed toward the
library. When I left it earlier, a few girls had been hanging out in there
giving Mrs. Snow a hard time about not carrying their favorite paranormal book.
With all those unsecured shelves full of heavy hardcover books, I thought it
might be a good idea to check to make sure she was okay. Almost every bookshelf
had tumbled over. Books lay scattered around the room. One of the books on
earthquake preparedness I almost checked out before I decided on another lay
open on the floor. I picked it up and shoved the small paperback in my jacket
pocket. To my right I noticed a hand moving underneath one of the piles of
books. I hurried to it, shoving the mess away to discover Mrs. Snow. Reddish
bruises marked her arms and face, her eyes glistened with fear.

“Are you okay?” I
asked.

Her entire body shook
but she nodded. “You?”

I helped her up and
away from the debris. “I’m okay.” My voice trembled in my throat and I thought
for sure I’d lose that burnt chocolate Pop Tart I wolfed down at breakfast. My
dad wasn’t big on supplying the house with nutritious food. I supposed I should
have been grateful for the fact that we even had Pop Tarts in the cupboard. Too
bad the toaster had been set on high now the burnt edges of the pastry threatened
to reappear. Squelching the thoughts of breakfast, my mind flashed on my dad
and I hoped he was okay.

Mrs. Snow and I
stumbled out of what was left of the school library. The entire area looked
like a bomb had gone off. Crumbled walls and ceilings, a ton of glass and brick
lay all over the place. I helped her to settle down on the steps of the school
entrance. They seemed to be the only thing left that escaped the wrath of the
earthquake.

A faint voice caught my
attention and I stopped, realizing it was the sound of muffled shouts.

“Please, help!
Somebody, please help us!”

I followed the sound of
the cries to a pile of debris about eight feet high. This turned out to be the
entrance to the school’s basement. Broken brick, large pieces of concrete, and
shards of glass completely smothered the door.

I tugged at the debris,
tossing a large piece of drywall to the side. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Yes, yes, we’re here.
Help! We have no light and the door is jammed. Can you get to it from where you
are?”

It sounded like Coach
Worthington and a couple of other voices I didn’t recognize. “Mr. Worthington?
Coach?”

“Yeah, is that you,
Court?”

“Yeah. How many are
down there with you?”

“Two—Pete Wilkins and
Brad Harris. Can you get us out?”

I looked around the
area, swallowing the huge lump in my throat. “I’ll try. There’s a lot of
concrete and brick to clear away, might take awhile. Most everyone left or is
in shock, so I’m working alone.”

“Okay. See what you can
do.”

I threw brick after
brick over my shoulder. The temperature outside was cool, maybe near seventy
degrees, but the sun quickly warmed up the chilly morning air and sweat poured
out of me as I worked. I shrugged off my shirt and threw it toward Shiloh where
my sweatshirt still lay before clearing the rest of the bricks away. The sight
of my dog once again tugged at my heartstrings. My poor sweet Shiloh. I shook
off my grief and went back to removing the debris. When I finished, I stood
staring at the large piece of cement still blocking the entrance. It looked like
it weighed about the same as a VW bug. I yanked at the heavy slab but couldn’t
budge it. Stopping to catch my breath, I searched around on the ground for
something to pry it up with and spied a long strip of rebar.

Perfect.

I shoved the lower
portion of the pole under the cement until only half of the thing stuck out.
Sweat dripped into my eyes and I swiped it from my brow with my shirtsleeve.
Leaning down and shoving on my makeshift lever, I pushed with all my weight
until the cement rose. Taking a step forward, propping the heels of my feet
against the side of the building, I pushed the shaft against the cement until
my knuckles hit the ground. The block of cement flipped over, freeing the
entrance to the basement. I tugged the door open and Coach, Brad and Pete came
up the steps, shielding their eyes from the brightness of the sun.

“Thanks, Court. I
didn’t think we’d ever get out of —”

The coach stopped
talking and froze with his hand still above his eyes. “Holy Mother of God.” He
slowly turned a complete circle, looking around at the ruins. “Do you know how
many survived?”

“No, sir. I don’t think
too many, though. I saw a few come out from the school.” An image of Adela
popped into my mind. I should have gotten up and grabbed her away from Max when
she was still here. Maxen Wendell spent most of his time making wine. He
wouldn’t know how to protect her, not as well as I could. I had to find her.

“What about the
teachers?”

“I don’t know.” I
slowly shook my head. “The only one I’ve seen is Mrs. Snow. I left her over by
the library. I mean on the steps—the library’s pretty well demolished. I think
she’s in shock. I pulled her out of some rubble and helped her to the steps.”

“Okay, I’ll help her.”
Coach swiped his hand over his bald head. “Are you okay, son?”

The son reference made
me remember my dad again and I wondered if he survived. “Yeah, but I think I
need to leave now. My dad probably needs me. Are you going to be okay?”

“Don’t you worry about
us. Go home to your dad. Thanks for helping us out.”

“No worries.” I walked
back to get my shirt and bloody sweatshirt from Shiloh’s dead body. I stood
over her stiff frame for a moment, wishing I could bury her before taking off toward
my house.

Max and I sat crouched
atop the rubble and I turned to the sound of voices coming from behind us as a
small group of people headed in our direction.

“Max, look.” I pointed
to the group.

“Oh great.” Max held
his hands in the air palms facing the crowd. “Stop! Don’t climb up. There’s no
place to go. Nothing but a huge drop; too large to jump over.”

A man in a red jacket
carrying a little girl in his arms yelled, “No way else out! The gas station
fire is consuming the entire other end of the street. Pretty soon, the fire
will reach here unless the fire department comes. We’re trapped.”