Page 32 of Broken SEAL'S Secret Baby
“What if the lines to those get cut?” I ask. My voice wobbles a little. It is all I can do to not start screaming. I’d always hated storm shelters, and the few minutes of dead air have me ready to curl into a ball and hide.
“There’s also a bank of lithium batteries that should have a full charge — a set for each shelter. Don’t worry, Kate, we’re safe here.”
The building seems to do a little dance, sort of like a sunflower in a breeze. I want to whimper, but if I do, it would scare Cece. Gidget is already pressed against my legs, and Mr. Fluffy has found someplace to hide — at least I hope he has made it in with us. I didn’t want to start a panic.
“It’s all right,” Charles soothes. “The building is built to sway a little — part of the earthquake proofing.”
“Ok,” I squeak. “But I don’t think buildings should vibrate like Moon Ribas.”
“Moon Ribas?” Charles asks.
“A dancer who bases her performances on a sensor in her arm that connects to an online seismograph,” I reply. “I learned about her in my abnormal psychology class.”
The building shudders again, and the lights flicker. I gulp, feeling as if my lunch might come back up.
“Cece, you want to climb into your fort?” Charles asks. “I think Mr. Fluffy is already there.”
“Ok,” Cece says cheerfully. “I like my fort.” She opens a small door into a space that looks almost like a padded space capsule. A viewing screen, racks with books and crayons and assorted snacks are inside a recessed cabinet. Mr. Fluffy is there, tucked into a sort of padded niche, glaring out at the world. Cece snuggles herself into a well-padded chair, prepared to ride out the storm. Gidget scrambles in after her and settles down on the child’s feet.
Charles pulls the door closed after his daughter. “It’s an ejection capsule, with a parachute,” he explains. “If the building comes apart, Cece should be thrown clear and her capsule will float to the ground.”
“I had no idea anything like that was possible,” I stammered, almost forgetting to be afraid. “But what about . . . us?”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to share with me,” he says. “Em and I planned for a chance to while away the waiting time comfortably, while Cece was fully protected.”
“But . . . won’t she be scared?” I think about being shut up in a padded environment, all alone.
“Hasn’t been so far,” Charles says. “There’s a vid connection, and she has her pets with her. She has a bathroom, drinks, snacks, and entertainment. The way these thingsusually time out, we aren’t likely to be in here more than an hour or two. Since it is close to her naptime, she’s likely to sleep.”
I think this over. It all seems very odd, more like a page out of a science fiction novel than real life. “How is this even possible?”
“Most of the technology has been around since the late 1950s or even a little earlier. It’s just that most people can’t afford it. These rooms are probably the most expensive part of the whole building.” He then gestures. “Come on, let’s get settled into our fort. We’ll all be fine, and in a couple of hours, the storm will blow over and we’ll get to go clean up the mess out in the garden.”
I follow Charles, not sure what to expect. The safe room for adults consists of a wide, padded bed with the back and knee sections raised, a series of jump seats around the outer perimeter, a bathroom facility like those found on airplanes, a viewing screen, three shelves of books, and another three shelves containing shelf stable snacks, and bottled water.
Charles sits down on the bed, then hitches himself over next to the shelves of books. I stand in the middle of the tiny room, turning around slowly.
The viewing screen is split into three parts. One shows Cece sharing snack crackers with her pets, one is tuned to the news — tracking the storm, and one is monitoring the building cameras showing what was happening outside.
I start to sit down on one of the jump seats, when another shudder shook the building.
“Come over here,” Charles says softly, “The bed is the safest place. The jump seats are in case we had staff on hand or guests. They aren’t that good, just better than leaving anyone outside.”
Hesitantly, I take the two steps between seat and bed. Thebuilding sways again, somewhat like a ship at sea, and I almost tumble onto the bed.
“Whoo, that was a big one! Did you feel it, Daddy?” Cece’s voice comes through the speakers.
Charles keys a mike and says, “I sure did. But Miss Kate and I are snuggled into our fort. Everyone is fine.”
“Ok,” Cece says, using what looked like a small remote. “I’ll watch my movie some more.”
It is good that Cece is fine, because I am not. I curl up in a tiny ball and try not to whimper. I hate storms. They chased us all downstairs into the fruit cellar, which was dark, dank, and full of spiders. They flattened the wheat crops and tore up the garden.
On the screen, I can see the whirling red eye of the storm moving across the landscape. The street outside is flooding, and the ornamental trees along the street bend nearly double with the force of the wind.
I must make a sound, because Charles puts his arms around me. “Shhh, shhh,” he says. “It’s alright. We’re alright. The storm is passing, we’ll just stay here until we are sure that it has all settled down. Look, Cece has fallen asleep, along with her cat and dog.”
It is weak of me, I suppose, but I’d fantasized about being held in those arms. I turn over and bury my face in his shirt front and stretch my top arm over him so I can cling like a little monkey to its mother.
