Earthquake Terror (3 page)

“What’s wrong, boy?” Jonathan asked. He reached out to pet Moose but the dog tugged toward Abby and barked at her.

“Hush, Moose,” Abby said.

Jonathan looked in all directions. He saw nothing unusual. There were still no people and no animals that would startle Moose and set him off. Jonathan listened hard, wondering if Moose had heard something that Jonathan couldn’t hear.

Abby stopped walking. “What was that?” she said.

“What was what?”

Jonathan listened. He heard a deep rumbling sound in the distance.

Thunder? He looked up. The sky was bright and cloudless. The noise came closer; it was too sharp to be thunder. It was more like several rifles being fired at the same time.

Hunters! he thought. There are hunters in the woods and they heard us move and they’ve mistaken us for deer or pheasant. Moose must have seen them or heard them or possibly smelled them.

“Don’t shoot!” he cried.

As he yelled, Jonathan felt a jolt. He stumbled forward,
thrusting an arm out to brace himself against a tree. Another loud noise exploded as Jonathan lurched sideways.

He dropped the leash.

Abby screamed.

A bomb? Jonathan thought. Who would bomb a deserted campground?

The noise continued, and the earth moved beneath his feet. As he felt himself lifted, he knew that the sound was not hunters with guns. It was not a bomb, either.

Earthquake! The word flashed across his brain as if he had seen it blazing on a neon sign.

He felt as if he were on a surfboard, catching a giant wave, rising, cresting, and sliding back down again. Except he was standing on dry land.

“Jonathan!” Abby’s scream was lost in the thunderous noise. He saw her fall, her walker flying off to one side as she went down. Jonathan lunged forward, arms outstretched, trying to catch Abby before she hit the ground. He couldn’t get there fast enough.

The ground dropped away beneath his feet as if a trapdoor had opened. His legs buckled and he sank to his knees. He reached for a tree trunk, to steady himself, but before his hand touched it, the tree moved.

Jonathan’s stomach rose into his throat, the way it sometimes did on a fast elevator.

Ever since first grade, when the Palmers moved to California, Jonathan had practiced earthquake drills in school each year. He knew that most earthquakes occur along the shores of the Pacific Ocean. He knew that the San Andreas fault
runs north and south for hundreds of miles in California, making that land particularly susceptible to earthquakes. He knew that if an earthquake hit while he was in school, he was supposed to crawl under his desk or under a table because injury was most likely to be caused by the roof caving in on him.

That was school. This was Magpie Island. How should he protect himself in the woods? Where could he hide?

He struggled to his feet again. Ahead of him, Abby lay whimpering on the ground. Moose stood beside her, his head low.

“Put your hands over your head,” Jonathan called.

The ground shook again, and Jonathan struggled to remain on his feet.

“I’m coming,” he shouted. “Stay where you are. I’m coming!”

But he did not go to her. He couldn’t.

He staggered sideways, unable to keep his balance. He felt as if he were riding a roller coaster standing up, except the ground rocked back and forth at the same time that it rolled up and down.

A clump of small birch trees swayed like dancers and then fell.

The rumbling noise continued, surrounding him, coming from every direction at once. It was like standing in the center of a huge orchestra, with kettle drums pounding on all sides.

Abby’s screams and Moose’s barking blended with the noise.

Although there was no roof to cave in on him, Jonathan put his arms over his head as he fell. The school’s earthquake drills had taught him to protect his head and he did it the only way he could.

Earthquake.

He had never felt an earthquake before and he had always wondered how it would feel. He had questioned his teacher, that first year. “How will I know it’s an earthquake?” he asked.

“If it’s a big one,” the teacher said, “you’ll know.”

His teacher had been right. Jonathan knew. He knew with a certainty that made the hair rise on the back of his neck. He was in the middle of an earthquake now. A big one.

The ground heaved, pitching Jonathan into the air.

J
onathan hit the ground hard, jarring every bone in his body. Immediately, the earth below him moved, tossing him into the air again.

As he dropped back down, he saw the trunk of a giant redwood tree tremble. The huge tree swayed back and forth for a few moments and then tilted toward Jonathan.

Frantically, he crawled to his left, rushing to get out of the tree’s path.

The roots ripped loose slowly, as if not wanting to relinquish their century-long hold on the dirt.

As Jonathan scrambled across the unsteady ground, he clenched his teeth, bracing himself for the impact.

The tree fell. Air whizzed across Jonathan as the tree trunk
dropped past, and branches brushed his shoulder, scratching his arms. The redwood crashed beside him, missing him by only a few feet. It thudded down, landing at an angle on another fallen tree. Dirt and dry leaves whooshed into the air, and then settled slowly back down.

The earth shuddered, but Jonathan didn’t know if it was from the impact of the tree or another jolt from the earthquake.

With his heart in his throat, Jonathan crept away from the redwood tree, toward Abby. Beneath him, the ground swelled and retreated, like ocean waves. Twice he sprawled facedown in the dirt, unable to keep his balance. The second time, he lay still, with his eyes closed. How much longer would this go on? Maybe he should just lie there and wait until the earthquake was over.

“Mommy!” Abby’s shrill cry rose above the thundering noise.

Jonathan struggled toward her again, his heart racing. When he finally reached her, he lay beside her and wrapped his arms around her. She clung to him, sobbing.

“We’ll be okay,” he said. “It’s only an earthquake.”

Only an earthquake. He remembered magazine pictures of terrible devastation from earthquakes: homes toppled, highways buckled, cars tossed upside down, and people crushed in debris. Only an earthquake.

“We have to get under shelter,” he said. “Try to crawl with me.” Keeping one arm around Abby’s waist, he got to his hands and knees and began crawling forward on the undulating ground.

“I can’t!” Abby cried. “I’m scared. The ground is moving.”

Jonathan tightened his grip, dragging her across the ground. A small tree crashed beside them. Dust rose, filling their noses.

“I want Mommy!” Abby shrieked.

He pulled her to the trunk of the huge redwood tree that had uprooted.

“Get under the tree,” he said, as he pushed her into the angle of space that was created because the center of the redwood’s trunk rested on the other tree.

When Abby was completely under the tree, Jonathan lay on his stomach beside her, with his right arm tucked beneath his stomach and his left arm thrown across Abby. He pulled himself in as close as he could so that both he and Abby were wedged in the space under the big tree.

“What’s happening?” Abby sobbed. Her fingernails dug into Jonathan’s bare arm.

“It’s an earthquake.”

“I want to go home.” Abby tried to push Jonathan away.

“Lie still,” Jonathan said. “The tree will protect us.”

The dry forest floor scratched his cheek as he inhaled the pungent scent of dead leaves. He felt dwarfed by the enormous redwood and tried not to imagine what would have happened if it had landed on him.

“Moose!” he called. “Come, Moose.”

Beneath him, the ground trembled again. Jonathan tightened his grip on Abby and pushed his face close to hers. A
sharp
crack
rang out beside them as another tree hit the ground. Jonathan turned his head enough to peer out; he saw the redwood branches quivering from the impact.

What if the earthquake caused the redwood to move again? What if it slipped off the tree it rested on and crushed them beneath it? Anxiety tied a tight knot in Jonathan’s stomach.

The earth shuddered once more. Abby buried her face in Jonathan’s shoulder. His shirt grew wet from her tears. The jolt did not seem as severe this time, but Jonathan thought that might be because he was lying down.

Moose, panting with fear, huddled beside Jonathan, pawing at Jonathan’s shoulder. Relieved that the dog had not been injured, Jonathan put his right arm around Moose and held him close.

As suddenly as it had begun, the upheaval stopped. Jonathan was unsure how long it had lasted. Five minutes? Ten? While it was happening, time seemed suspended and Jonathan had thought the shaking might go on for days.

The woods were quiet.

He lay motionless, one arm around Abby and the other around Moose, waiting to see if it was really over. The air was completely still. After the roar of the earthquake, the silence seemed both comforting and ominous.

Earlier, even though there were no other people in the area, he’d heard the magpies cawing, and a squirrel had complained when Jonathan tossed a rock.

Now he heard nothing. No birds. No squirrels. Not even wind in the leaves.

He wondered if his parents had felt the quake. Sometimes, he knew, earthquakes were confined to fairly small areas.

Once Grandma Whitney had called them from Iowa. She had seen news reports of a violent California earthquake less than one hundred miles from where the Palmers lived.

“Are you all right?” Grandma cried, when Mrs. Palmer answered the phone. “Was anyone hurt?”

Grandma had been astonished when none of the Palmers knew anything about an earthquake.

After several minutes of quiet, Jonathan eased out from under the tree. He sat up and looked around. Moose, still trembling, licked his hand.

Jonathan put his cheek on the dog’s neck and rubbed his ears. He had chosen Moose at the animal shelter, more than six years ago. The Palmers had planned to get a small dog but the moment Jonathan saw the big golden retriever, who was then one year old, he knew which dog he wanted.

Mrs. Palmer had said, “He’s too big to be a house dog.”

Mr. Palmer said, “I think he’s half moose.”

Jonathan laughed and said, “That’s what I’ll name him. Moose.”

His parents tried unsuccessfully to interest Jonathan in one of the other, smaller dogs, before they gave in and brought Moose home.

Despite his size, Moose was a house dog from the start, and he slept beside Jonathan’s bed every night. They played fetch, and their own version of tag, and Jonathan took Moose for long walks in the county park. In the summer, they swam whenever they had a chance.

When Abby had her accident and Jonathan’s parents focused so much of their attention on her, Moose was Jonathan’s comfort and companion.

Now, in the devastation of the earthquake, Jonathan again found comfort in the dog’s presence. He let go of Moose and looked around. “Wow!” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “That was some earthquake.”

“Is it over?” Abby’s voice was thin and high.

“I think so.”

He grasped Abby’s hand and pulled her out from under the tree. She sat up, apparently uninjured, and began picking leaves out of her hair.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“My knee is cut.” She touched one knee and her voice rose. “It’s bleeding,” she said, her lip trembling. “You pushed me under the tree too hard.”

Jonathan examined her knee. It was a minor cut. He knew that if he made a fuss over it, Abby would cry. He had seen it happen before; if his mother showed concern about a small injury, Abby practically got hysterical, but if Mom acted like it was no big deal, Abby relaxed, too. It was as if she didn’t know whether she hurt or not until she saw how her parents reacted.

“It’s all right,” he said. “If that tiny little scrape is all you got, you are lucky, and so am I. We could have been killed.”

“We could?” Abby’s eyes grew round.

Quickly Jonathan said, “But we weren’t, and the earthquake is over now.”

“Where’s my walker?” she asked. “What happened to my walker?”

Jonathan stood up. His legs felt wobbly, the way they always did when he got off his skateboard after skating for a long time.

“I’ll get it,” he said, but when he looked around, he did not see Abby’s walker. He didn’t even see the trail where she had been standing when the walker was jolted out of her hands. Toppled trees crisscrossed the earth like spilled toothpicks.

Not all of the trees had fallen, but even those that remained standing had lost limbs. The ground was littered with branches of all kinds.

“I want my walker.” Abby was near tears again, looking frantically in all directions. “Where is my walker?”

“It’s under one of the fallen trees,” he said. “I’ll find it.”

Jonathan began to lift the downed branches, looking under them. In some places, branches were layered three or four deep. Many were too large and heavy to lift; all he could do was dig through the leaves and try to see what was underneath.

“Do you see it?” Abby asked.