"At least he got rid of that annoying alarm." Sam turned his attention to the oddly deserted, collapsed building. Amid the ruins, a lone woman tossed crumbled brick and rotting lumber aside. Cautiously, he drew nearer. "How many?"
"How many what?" the woman snapped.
Sam instantly reeled back, "How many still in the building?"
The tall, painfully thin woman paused in her work just long enough to glare at him, her brown eyes flashing with fury. "None! They all got out between the quakes."
"Well then, why do you dig?"
"My keys are in there. How am I to drive home without my keys?"
Sam watched her toss two more broken bricks away, and then grab hold of a two by four and try to wedge it free. Carefully, he stepped into the rubble and drew close enough to take the woman's arm. "My dear, it is best to walk. If the streets are serviceable at all, they'll be jammed with traffic."
At first, the woman tried to pull her arm free, her angry eyes boring into his. But at length, the words he spoke rang true. Suddenly, she threw her arms around his neck and began to weep uncontrollably. "My kids. I left them with a sitter. I..."
"There, there now, don't cry. I'm sure they're just fine." He held her a while longer and then tenderly pulled her away. "We've only a few hours of daylight left. How far away are your children?"
"A couple of miles, I guess."
"Good. You've plenty of time to walk it before dark." He took her hand and helped her climb out of the rubble. She hugged him once more, and then was off -- hurrying past the parked cars and up the lane to the road. Then, something peculiar caught Sam's attention. He felt a gentle breeze against his face. "Wind? I hadn't noticed it missing. Feels good, Lord."
Sam walked to his car, opened the door and sat down. He glanced around looking for the guy with the twenty-two, and was relieved that he was nowhere in sight. He reached in his glove box and removed an old canteen. Unscrewing the lid, he gently pulled on a string until one-by-one, small rolls of cash came free of the rim. Stuffing them in his pocket, he looped the long canteen string around his neck and closed the glove box. Next, he grabbed his transistor radio off the seat, removed his cap, and mounted the small earphone set on his head. Collin was on the air, giving earthquake survival instructions.
Sam smiled. "Max must be all right, then. Thank you, Lord." He put his transistor in his pocket and pulled his red cap back on. Then he locked his car and headed in the same direction as the woman – down the tree-lined lane toward the grid of streets and avenues leading to Seattle.
On the forty-third floor, Tim finally looked human again. Seely too noticed the wind, a soft gentle breeze at first barely ruffling the loose paper. Then it grew stronger. She sat down on the door with her back against exposed rafters and insulation, closed her eyes and basked in the feeling of it hitting her face. Her heart no longer hurt and her drug-induced headache was beginning to let up, "I think I'm feeling better."
"Good." Jenna said. "You look better."
Tim turned the radio off and handed it to Seely "I say we go have a look around. We can see more from up here than they can tell us on the radio."
"Be careful, okay."
Jenna glanced from Seely to Tim and back to Seely again. "Is it okay if I go too?"
Seely giggled, "Sugar, you don't need my permission."
"I know, but will you be alright?"
"Sure I will. Go."
Suddenly, Jenna looked disturbed. She leaned her head to one side and listened. "What is that?"
"What?"
"That noise? That thudding noise?"
Tim focused on the sound, holding his breath until he recognized it. His eyes then lit up, "Chopper!" In a flash, he was stumbling through the rubbish in the hall. By the time he turned down the corridor and passed the six elevators, the noise of the chopper was overwhelming. Cautiously, he made his way into the conference room until he finally spotted it. The huge blue chopper with bulging eyes, a bubble face and a slit for a mouth slowly descended until it hovered directly opposite the conference room. With Jenna right behind him, Tim inched closer to the middle of the room and waved his arms, but if the pilot saw him from behind the tinted windows, he gave no indication. Instead, the chopper tipped slightly upward and held its position. Just as it appeared, it slowly lifted above the top floor, sharply banked right and was gone.
As soon as the noise dissipated, Tim took one more cautious step toward the outside edge of the building, "Jenna look!"
"What?"
"We can see the water."
"So?"
"So where's the Federal Building?"
Jenna felt sick. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and backed away.
*
Jackie asked Carl to move the chopper back to its original position over West Seattle where all three cameras were at a better advantage. She adjusted the focus on each, and then went back to her conversation with Michael, "Well, at least she's not alone."
Michael took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Comparatively, the small, compact mobile home suffered only minor damage – not counting broken windows, spilled cupboards and an upset coffee pot. He put his glasses back on and turned his attention to the middle monitor, "I ran a quick picture comparison through the company's personnel records. Both of them are co-workers and neither have any medical training."
"Oh Michael, what are we going to do?"
"We're out of our league here. I suggest we call someone."
"Good idea. See if you can find…let's see. I know, call fire and rescue in LA. They're experts in earthquakes."
"Okay."
"No wait, they might notify the press." Jackie sighed and tried to rack her brain. "Hey, let's call Colonel Shafer at the Pentagon. He's an engineer and he owes us a favor."
"Got it. By the way, I've picked up a local radio station. And a report just came in with a little history on Loraine Whitcomb. Ready?"
"Shoot."
"Loraine Whitcomb, AKA Eileen Black was arrested for murder in 1968. The case was weak and all charges were dropped. The victim was a twenty-three-year old college student and Eileen Black was one of two roommates. Guess who the other roommate was?"
"Christina?"
"Bingo. Loraine and Jennifer's mother is still alive. She lives in Seattle and is in her seventies."
"The old woman who visits the grave?"
"Could be."
"Michael, how do you get your mother to visit a grave with nobody in it?"
"Maybe somebody is in it."
"Great. That's one I hadn't thought of. Have you found anything on the $10,000.00?"
"Not yet, but who'd be surprised if it leads back to Loraine?"
"I sure wouldn't. So now what have we got? Christina marries well, Jennifer wants Evan and the money so Loraine sets up a revolving fund and convinces Christina to walk away because…"
"Because it was Christina who murdered the roommate?"
Jackie kept her eyes on the heart monitor strip at the bottom of the monitor. Seely's heart rate was near normal. "Blackmail?"
"Yes, but why the scars on Christina's wrists?"
"Maybe she needed some heavy duty convincing."
"Michael, we don't have time for this. You call the Colonel and I'll call Evan. It's time I had a little talk with him." Jackie quickly disconnected Michael and dialed Evan Cole's private number.
It seemed like forever before the seat belt sign in the 737 went off and Evan was allowed to turn his cell phone back on. When he did, it was already ringing. "Loraine?"
"No, it's Jackie. Mister Cole, have you ever heard of an Eileen Black?"
His jaw instantly dropped in dismay, "Eileen Black? She was Christina's roommate in college. She murdered Julie Wilcox."
"Did Christina tell you what happened?"
"She couldn't, she wasn't there. That was the weekend I flew her back to meet my parents. Jackie, what's..."
"Loraine Whitcomb and Eileen Black are the same person."
If Jackie was still talking, he didn't hear her. Nor did he hear the roar of the engines, the in-flight television, other passengers talking or a baby crying somewhere in the back of the plane. Instead, he let the phone slide from his ear. He remembered how Loraine stared at Christina's portrait the first time she saw it. He considered the peculiar way the house he shared with Christina burned to the ground, and how Loraine and Jennifer always seemed to be there when he needed comfort most. Finally, he remembered being told what happened in that horrible storm - two cabin cruisers traveling at high speed, one crashing into the other, and then a distress call from Christina's captain – sinking fast! Mayday! Mayday! Finally, there was nothing but a debris field. Both boats and all aboard lost…or so he thought.
Slowly, Evan Cole turned his furious eyes toward the window.
*
Long after the thudding chopper engines dissipated, Tim finally turned and made his way back to Seely. Disappointed, he sat down on the floor and slouched his shoulders, "He saw me, I know he did. But he didn't do anything. I mean the chopper just sat there, and then it flew away." He lightly touched his bandaged forehead, and then ran his hand through his short, red hair.
Jenna moved files aside and sat down beside him, "At least they know we’re here. Maybe they'll come back for us."
Tim dropped his eyes and fiddled with the button on his blood stained shirt. "Jenna, I don't know. We're not the only ones stuck in these buildings and that's the first chopper we heard. Where are the news choppers? And why didn't this one take a closer look at the other buildings. I don't know, Jenna. Something's not right."
"Was it blue?" Seely asked.
"Uh huh. Why?"
Seely lifted the radio off her lap. "Collin was talking about that chopper this morning. You're right, there's something odd about this one. Did it look like it had guns underneath?"
"Guns? No, not guns, more like cameras. Hey, maybe I'll make the five o'clock news. Who knows, maybe it's a Canadian television station. Then again, maybe not." Tim paused, and then quickly glanced at each woman before he continued. "You know, there is a bank on the first floor of this building. You don't suppose…"
Once more, the earth shifted. Jenna screamed and nearly fell over Seely getting back into the bathroom foyer.
At KMPR, Collin instantly scooted his stool away from the console and headed for the door. Max was already there.
On the tree lined lane leading away from the clubhouse, Sam found a new tree, quickly grabbed hold and watched for fissures.
Once more the world seemed to be coming apart. This, the second largest aftershock measured 7.1 and sent its rolling thunder at lightning speed in all conceivable directions. The land renewed its rumbling, its giant heaves and its waves of horror.
*
North of downtown Seattle, longtime friends and a closely knit network of Ham Radio Operators darted outside or ran for the nearest cover, and then waited for the earth to stop shaking. Each suffered their own constant terror, waiting and watching until it was safe to go back to their duties. Yet, voices quivered and hands trembled.
"W7HEU, this is net control, how do you read?"
"Loud and clear, over."
"HEU, did the fissure close?"
"Negative. We count twenty-six adults, seven children and we've got a motorcycle cop down there in bad shape. W7HEU, over."
"Has help arrived?"
"Affirmative. Half the Husky Football Team is here. We've got a few ropes and one harness. Two of the guys are mountain climbers and were thinking about going down. Thing is, that aftershock scared us. The fissure did move some. One more like that and I think it might close. W7HEU, over."
"A7AQ, emergency."
"AQ, go ahead."
"Net control, this is A7AQ. The I-5 interchange at 244th SW in Mountlake Terrace just collapsed. There must have been a hundred cars stuck on the off ramps. Are the phones still down? Has anyone been able to reach emergency services? Can anybody help? People are dying here, over."
*
At KMPR, there was little left to fall except the southern half of the roof. During the aftershock, Max kept a watchful eye on it, but it didn't fall. Nearly all the plasterboard was gone off the walls leaving exposed two by four's and torn pink insulation. Hanging off a nail in the wall just above Collin's console, a calendar swayed. When it stopped, Max rubbed his face with his hands, took several deep breaths and eased back into the studio.
Once more, he carefully tested the sturdiness of the floor, and then he took a long hard look at the outer walls. At length, he walked across the room, turned and looked up. Only a small portion of the northern roof remained and above that, he could see the round, shiny rim of a satellite dish. "I don't believe it."
"What?" Collin asked.
"The dish is still there."
"You've got a satellite dish? Why'd you have me see about the towers then?"
Max walked into the control room, sat down and started checking switches. "There's an Amateur Radio repeater on that tower. By the way, I think we're still on the air."
Collin hurried in, picked up his toppled stool, sat down, and set his mike upright. "Okay folks, we've had another big aftershock and we need another check. If you are on Queen Anne and you can hear us, honk." Less than a block away, two car horns sounded. Collin smiled.
While Collin repeated instructions for turning off the gas, saving water, avoiding power lines and finding a safe place outside to spend the night, Max slipped down the stairs to his apartment. This time the door was stuck. He stepped back and examined the placement. In the last aftershock, the doorframe twisted. He pulled out his wallet, withdrew a credit card, turned the knob and slipped the card between the lock and frame. Careful not to re-injure his foot, he stepped back and kicked with his good foot. The door opened.
In the dining room, he took a moment to pick up broken pieces of Candy's cherished antique teapot, an heirloom from her mother. He cleared a place and carefully set them on the table. Max unplugged his Amateur Radio and pulled a bottom drawer out in the adjoining kitchen. He grabbed six batteries and then paused to stare up at the cracked and broken ceiling. "I bought her everything I could think of. Why didn't I buy her a hand-held?"
A few minutes later, while Max was setting up his Amateur Radio on Collin's console, James and Heather were still in Yakima, seated in the pickup truck with two bags of groceries, extra clothing and four gallons of water in the back. On the passenger side, Heather scooted down, and then propped her feet up on the dashboard. "Mom and Dad are gonna kill us for this."
James backed out of the driveway, shifted to first gear and headed north on Interstate 82, which would take them to Interstate 90 and west to Seattle. "We can only die once. Besides, we left a message at their hotel and Dad knows how to reach us on the radio."
"And when he does, he's gonna lose his Ham license for the language he'll use." Heather switched on the truck radio and turned the dial to KMPR.
*
"This is Collin Slater in Seattle. We've had a major earthquake and we need all the help we can get. What we don't have right now is incoming information. We're just two guys in a radio station with no phones, two backup generators, a lot of damage and only four cigarettes left. We need help world. We need help bad."
Back upstairs, Max finished loading batteries in the Ham Radio, and then he buried his face in his hands and shook his head. "Get a grip Collin. You need to give up smoking anyway, man."