If we get out of this, sweet clover for all, she silently told the goats. Maybe some sugar cubes and alfalfa and …
A weird rumbling noise interrupted her thoughts. Somebody gave her a violent shake. Somebody enormous, like the world itself. Then everything was jerking this way and that, the walls, the floor, the windowsill. Utterly confused, she pulled the trigger, saw something go winging out the window toward the treetops. She fell back onto the ground, the gun dropping from her fingers. Books were leaping out of the bookcases like rats deserting a sinking ship. The noise was horrendous, as if a freight train was hurtling through the office.
Door. She should get to the door. Or hide under her desk or something. The desk was closer than the door, so she crawled across the floor on her hands and knees. It kept tilting back and forth, making her slide this way and that. She grabbed onto the nearest leg of the desk and hauled herself toward it. Or maybe it was careening toward her, she couldn’t tell. It was like some kind of weird shipwreck with no water. Just flashing lights and rumbling and furniture going free range.
How could it still be going on? It seemed as if she’d been jolting around forever. Using all the arm strength she possessed, she swung herself under the desk, suppressing her automatic panic at sticking her head in such a small space. Now was not the time for a phobia. She glanced cautiously above her. Pretend that’s sky overhead, not the underside of a mahogany desk. As sharp and heavy things rained onto her legs, she tried to curl into a ball small enough to fit under the desk. Then everything went black.
Chapter 30
The earthquake struck while Fred was driving helter-skelter toward the Refuge. He pulled over, leaving his lights flashing so other cars would do the same. He set the parking brake and held on through the violent jarring. Out on the road, a few other cars slowed down, one crashed into a telephone pole, but most followed his lead and pulled over. His instinct was to run outside and direct everyone, but it would be stupid to get out of the car before the shaking had stopped. He counted the seconds. Thirty … thirty-one … finally, after thirty-two seconds of bone-jolting, stomach-churning destruction, the earth settled down and lay flat.
He knew the stillness wouldn’t last for long. Aftershocks could be just as dangerous as the earthquake itself. Quickly, he sent Rachel a text. Are you okay? When she didn’t answer, he tried calling; when that didn’t work either, he turned on the car radio. The news announcer sounded just as shaken as the rest of San Gabriel. “Preliminary reports say this was a 6.3 on the Richter scale, centered just to the north of San Gabriel. This is the biggest earthquake San Gabriel has experienced since 1942, when a 6.5 struck at four-thirty in the morning on Easter Sunday. Damage reports are just starting to come in, but we know that several neighborhoods have been hit hard, especially on the north side of town.”
The Refuge was on the north side of town. He had to get to Rachel, now.
Fred turned the key in his ignition and pulled back into the road. All around him, drivers were getting out of their cars, turning to their neighbors. The streetlights had blinked off; power must be out across the city. The only light came from headlights and the peaceful, unworried stars overhead. Fred rolled down his window and cruised along the street, quickly scanning passersby for injuries. If someone needed help, he’d be in a real bind, since every second away from Rachel felt like an hour.
Everyone seemed shaken up, but unharmed. “Drive slowly and carefully,” he warned people as he sped up. “Watch for obstacles in the road. Keep your radios on.”
“Is it safe to drive?” someone yelled.
“Stay away from overpasses, ramps, anything that might have been damaged,” he called back. “Keep to surface streets and take it slow and careful. But yes, go ahead and drive home. Traffic lights are out, so stop at every intersection.”
No one questioned his instructions. He’d noticed before that in emergency situations, people seemed to naturally respond if someone stepped up and provided guidance. As he drove, he dialed the number for the station. No one answered. Even though there was nothing on the radio about fires so far, earthquakes always triggered them. The crew could be at a fire, or helping evacuate damaged buildings, or extracting victims from crushed cars. He’d be right there with them—head wound be damned—as soon as he made sure that Rachel was okay.
He contacted the USAR team next and told them he was headed to the north side of town. “I’ve got an unfolding situation there, but once that’s dealt with, I’m all yours.”
“What’s the situation?” In the background, Fred could hear the tactical channel, people shouting instructions, the controlled madness of an emergency situation. He knew where they were; all hunkered into the bunker behind the station house, with the emergency backup generators going and communications lines being set up. The entire infrastructure of San Gabriel’s emergency response was swinging into action. If it weren’t for Rachel, he’d be doing the same.
But right now, all he could think about was Rachel alone with a lunatic trying to set fire to the Refuge.