Earthquake Terror (2 page)

But Abby had panicked in the pool. No matter how reassuring her parents were, each time she felt the water around her, she grew fearful and refused to let go of the side of the pool. After a few weeks, her parents gave up and quit taking her.

“Come on in, Mom,” Jonathan called. “The water feels like a warm bath.” It was a long-standing joke between them, dating from a day when three-year-old Jonathan, shivering and blue with cold, had begged to remain in the lake longer, insisting that the water was as warm as his bath.

“Go ahead,” Mr. Palmer said to his wife. “I’ll help Abby.”

Mrs. Palmer sat on a driftwood log, took off her shoes and socks, and rolled up her jeans. While Mr. Palmer helped Abby move her walker along the edge of the water, Mrs. Palmer ran toward Jonathan.

“You lied!” she yelled, as her feet hit the water. “This water is freezing.”

“A warm bath,” Jonathan replied.

“My feet are turning blue.” She pointed to her right. “Look. I see ice cubes floating over there.”

Jonathan laughed.

She was only six feet away from him when she went down. Cold water splattered Jonathan and, for a moment, he thought she had done it on purpose—flung herself, clothes and all, into the lake, to swim. He almost belly flopped beside her but the look on her face made him stop short.

“Mom?”

A second ago she joked about ice cubes and now she was sprawled on the lake bottom, with only her head above the water, grimacing in pain.

Jonathan rushed to her side. “Dad!” he yelled.

Mr. Palmer splashed toward them, leaving Abby on the shore.

Mrs. Palmer sat up.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Jonathan asked. He held one hand out to help her up, but she didn’t take it.

“My foot just went out from under me,” she said.

Mr. Palmer reached them.

“Jack,” Mrs. Palmer said softly. “I think I broke my ankle.”

Mr. Palmer bent and put his hands under her arms, gently lifting her out of the water until she stood on her left leg, keeping her right knee bent. Carefully, she touched her right
toes to the lake bottom. She winced and Jonathan saw that she was biting her lower lip to keep from crying out.

“Don’t try to stand on it,” Mr. Palmer said. “Jonathan, get on the other side of her.”

“What happened?” Abby cried. “What’s wrong with Mommy?”

Jonathan quickly moved to his mother’s side.

With one hand on Jonathan’s shoulder and the other around her husband, Mrs. Palmer managed to hop out of the lake on one foot. Each time she moved, a soft “uuh” escaped from her tightly closed mouth. Slowly they made their way to the driftwood log. Jonathan and Mr. Palmer eased her down until she sat, with her right leg extended in front of her.

The ankle was already swollen.

“We need to get you to a doctor,” Mr. Palmer said. “Fast.”

“Fast is not a choice,” Mrs. Palmer said. “It’ll take us an hour to get back to the car and then it’s twenty miles to town.”

Jonathan saw beads of sweat on her upper lip, and when she wiped them off, her hand shook.

Abby struggled toward them as if she dragged an anchor behind her. Her walker sank an inch into the sandy lakeshore each time she leaned on it and she had to yank upward to lift it enough to move it forward again.

Jonathan watched her approach. Her face was flushed from the heat and the effort. In this emergency, Abby seemed unbearably slow. He turned to his father.

“You could take Mom to town alone,” he said. “I’ll help Abby on the trail and we’ll wait in the camper until you get back.”

“We can’t leave you out here by yourselves,” Mrs. Palmer said. “There isn’t even a telephone.”

“I take care of Abby at home,” Jonathan said, “while you go grocery shopping. This won’t be any different. And Moose is with us.”

“We would get to the car faster alone,” Mr. Palmer said. “Maybe I can carry you.”

“Mommy can use my walker,” Abby said.

“It isn’t high enough for Mommy,” Mr. Palmer said. “Thank you, anyway, Abby.”

“Go on,” Jonathan said. “Abby and I will have lunch and after we eat we’ll walk back to camp. By then she’ll be ready for a nap.”

“Well . . .” Mrs. Palmer said.

“You’ll probably be back before she wakes up.”

“The sooner we get someone to examine that ankle,” Mr. Palmer said, “the better. And Jonathan is perfectly capable of taking care of Abby.” He knelt and put his wife’s sock and shoe on her left foot. He put the other shoe and sock in his backpack with their lunch, and gave the pack to Jonathan.

“The first aid kit is in the car,” Mrs. Palmer said, as she wiped the perspiration off her face. “I believe I’ll take some aspirin as soon as we get there.”

Jonathan’s mother rarely took any kind of medication. He knew her ankle must hurt badly.

“Be careful,” Mrs. Palmer said. “When you get back to the camper, wait for us there. Don’t go anywhere else.”

“We won’t,” Jonathan said.

“Lock the door after you get there.”

“I will,” Jonathan said.

“If any other people arrive, wait until we’re back to talk to them.”

Jonathan nodded.

Mr. Palmer folded his arms across his chest. “Aren’t you going to tell them to wash their hands before they eat?” he said.

“I don’t like leaving them here alone.”

“Neither do I, but it’s the best choice. Let’s go.” He helped his wife up off the log, keeping one arm around her waist while she balanced on her left foot.

Mrs. Palmer put her hand on Abby’s cheek. “Abby, you do what Jonathan tells you while we’re gone.”

“I want to go with you,” Abby said. Her lower lip trembled.

“I know you do, sweetie,” Mr. Palmer said, “but this time it will be best if you and Jonathan wait for us here. We’ll hurry.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.” Mr. Palmer made an exaggerated
X
across his chest with one hand. Then he picked up his wife and carried her across the sand to where the trail entered the woods.

Just before they started down the trail, Mr. Palmer
stopped and looked back. “It will probably take about three hours,” he said. “Even if Mom has to stay at the hospital, I’ll easily be back before dinner.”

“Don’t worry,” Jonathan said. “We’ll be okay.”

Moose loped toward Mr. and Mrs. Palmer.

“Moose!” Jonathan shouted. “Come back.”

The dog stopped, looking first at Mr. and Mrs. Palmer and then back at Jonathan and Abby.

“Stay with Jonathan,” Mr. Palmer said.

“Here, Moose!” Jonathan called. As the dog ran back to Jonathan, Jonathan yelled, “Good luck, Mom!”

“I want to go with them,” Abby said.

“Shh,” Jonathan whispered. “We don’t want Mom to worry about us. She has enough problems without us along to worry about.”

“She’ll worry about us if we stay here, too,” Abby said.

Jonathan wondered if his dad could carry his mom all the way to the car. How much did she weigh? He thought it was about one hundred and thirty pounds. That was a lot for anyone to carry on a hot day. Probably Dad would have to put her down and have her hop part of the way. It would be slow going, even without Abby.

He watched until his parents disappeared into the trees. If Mom had to break a bone, why couldn’t it have happened at home, instead of out on this island, miles from medical help? There was no telephone service here; there wasn’t even any electricity.

The camping guidebook referred to Magpie Island as a “primitive facility” which meant the hiking trails and campsites
were cleared, but there was no water available and no picnic tables or fireplaces. The rest rooms were only pit toilets.

Primitive is fine, Jonathan thought, as long as there wasn’t a problem. He did not want to stay in this isolated place. He did not want to be responsible for Abby.

Beside him, Moose whined. Jonathan put his hand on the dog’s head and fought a powerful urge to run after his parents.

I
s Mommy going to die?” Abby asked.

“No. People don’t die from a broken ankle. She might have to wear a cast on her leg for awhile, but she won’t die.”

“Mommy’s NEVER going to die,” Abby declared. “Mommy’s going to live until she’s a million years old.”

Jonathan made no comment about that prediction. It seemed safer to change the subject. “Let’s play sink-the-ships,” he said.

“Okay.”

It was a game they had invented last year when they came here at summer’s end. Jonathan gathered large brown leaves from the woods. He and Abby stood together at the edge of the water, right where Magpie Creek flowed into the lake,
and he handed the leaves to her, one at a time. She dropped them in the lake, where they bobbed and floated like small boats.

When all the leaves were adrift, Jonathan said, “It’s time to sink the ships.”

He collected a handful of pebbles, gave half to Abby and yelled, “Sink the ships! Sink the ships!” They threw the pebbles at the leaves, trying to make them sink.

Abby clutched her walker with one hand and flung the small stones with all her might. She cheered whenever a leaf went under. Jonathan let her sink most of the leaves, enjoying her excitement.

When the last leaf sank to the bottom of the lake, Abby smiled at Jonathan and said, “I’m hungry.”

“Me, too.”

He opened the backpack and removed sandwiches, grapes, chocolate chip cookies, and two juice packs.

Moose thumped his tail on the ground when Jonathan also found three dog biscuits.

“I wonder if Mommy and Daddy are in the car yet,” Abby said.

“Probably. I’ll bet they’re driving out of camp right now. Maybe they’re already going across the bridge.”

In his mind, Jonathan could see his father unhitching the small camping trailer. He pictured the car going along the narrow, winding road that meandered from the campground through the woods. He saw the high bridge that crossed the river, connecting the island campground to the mainland.

He imagined his father driving across the bridge, faster
than usual, with Mom lying down in the back seat. Or maybe she wouldn’t lie down. Maybe, even with a broken ankle, she would wear her seat belt. She always did, and she insisted that Jonathan and Abby wear theirs.

Moose cocked his head, as if listening to something. Then he ran toward the trail, sniffing the ground.

“Moose,” Jonathan called. “Come back.”

Moose paused, looked at Jonathan, and barked.

“Come!”

Moose returned but he continued to smell the ground and pace back and forth.

“Moose wants Mommy,” Abby said.

Moose suddenly stood still, his legs stiff and his tail up. He barked again.

“Silly old dog,” Abby said.

He knows something is wrong, Jonathan thought. Dogs sense things. He knows I’m worried about Mom. Jonathan patted Moose’s head. “It’s all right, Moose. Good dog.”

Moose barked again.

“I’m hot,” Abby said. “It’s too hot to eat.”

“Let’s start back. It’ll be cooler in the shade and we can finish our lunch in the camper.”

Maybe he could relax in the camper. Here he felt jumpy. He didn’t like being totally out of communication with the rest of the world. Whenever he stayed alone at home, or took care of Abby, there was always a telephone at his fingertips or a neighbor just down the street. If he had a problem, he could call his parents or Mrs. Smith next door or even nine-one-one.

Here he was isolated. I wouldn’t do well as a forest ranger, Jonathan thought. How do they stand being alone in the woods all the time?

He rewrapped the uneaten food, buckled the backpack over his shoulders, and put the leash on Moose. The goofy way Moose was acting, he might bolt down the trail and not come back.

Jonathan helped Abby stand up and placed her walker in position. Slowly, they began the journey across the sand and into the woods, to follow the trail through the trees.

Jonathan wished he had worn a watch. It seemed as if his parents had been gone long enough to get partway to town, but it was hard to be sure. Time had a way of evaporating instantly when he was engrossed in an interesting project, such as cataloging his baseball cards, or reading a good mystery. But time dragged unbearably when he was in the dentist’s office or waiting for a ride. It was hard to estimate how much time had passed since his parents waved good-bye and walked away. Forty minutes? An hour?

Abby walked in front of him. That way he could see her and know if she needed help, and it kept him from going too fast. When he was in the lead, he usually got too far ahead, even when he tried to walk slowly.

While they walked Jonathan planned what he would do when they got back to the camper. As soon as he got Abby settled on her bed, he would turn on the radio and listen to the ball game. That would give him something to think about. The San Francisco Giants were his favorite baseball team and he hoped they would win the World Series.

Jonathan noticed again how quiet it was. No magpies cawed, no leaves rustled overhead. The air was stifling, with no hint of breeze.

Moose barked. Jonathan jumped at the sudden noise. It was Moose’s warning bark, the one he used when a stranger knocked on the door. He stood beside Jonathan and barked again. The dog’s eyes had a frantic look. He was shaking, the way he always did during a thunderstorm.