Earthquake Terror (8 page)

“Keep going,” he called. “You’re doing great!”

Below them, Moose whined. I’m sorry, Jonathan thought. I don’t want to leave you behind.

Maybe, after he and Abby got on top of the tree, Moose would be able to climb the roots, too. If I call him and encourage him, he might make it.

With her next step up, Abby was high enough to see over the redwood’s roots. When she saw the squashed camper, she gasped. Clearly, she had not understood until then the magnitude of their loss.

“Raggedy’s killed,” she cried and burst into tears.

“Hang on,” Jonathan said. “I’m going to move your feet again.”

Abby continued to weep for her lost doll. Jonathan let her cry. He didn’t have time or energy or patience to try to calm his sister. He was too busy trying to save her life. He positioned her feet a notch higher.

“Pull yourself up,” he shouted. “We’re almost to the top.”

Before she could respond, the tree roots shifted.

“Jonathan!” Abby screamed, as her feet slipped off the roots. Her legs dangled helplessly.

The huge root mass tipped sideways, and then rolled back.

Below them, Moose barked his warning bark, deep and loud.

“Hang on,” Jonathan yelled but the aftershock was too strong. The fallen tree lurched upward and sank back down again so swiftly that both Abby and Jonathan lost their grips and tumbled to the ground.

Jonathan hit first. Abby landed beside him. Clods of dirt from the roots rained down around them.

Jonathan lay still, waiting to see if the aftershocks would continue. When they did not, he said, “Are you all right?”

Her answer was a whimper. Tears rolled down her face.

Beside them, Moose shook the dirt out of his coat.

“I don’t think I broke anything,” Jonathan said, as he slowly flexed his arms and legs. “What about you?”

“I’m getting wet,” she whispered.

Only then did Jonathan realize that he was lying in an inch of water.

She’ll drown, Jonathan thought. I have to get her out of here or she will drown.

J
onathan pulled the alder trees away from the side of the redwood. First they were a house, then they were steps, and now they were going to be boats.

“It’s my turn to be teacher,” Jonathan said as he selected the two biggest alders. “Today you’re going to have a riding lesson, only instead of a pony, you’ll learn to ride a tree.”

It might work, Jonathan thought. If she lies on her stomach and puts both arms around the tree trunk, she should be able to hang on and keep her head above water.

Abby scowled and stuck out her bottom lip. “It’s still my turn to be teacher,” she said. “We didn’t finish the song.”

“You can have a turn next. You can have two turns, but this is important, so listen carefully. We have to hold on to
something that won’t sink. Like these tree trunks.” Jonathan pointed to the alders whose branches he had removed. “We each get to choose one of these trees for our own. Which one do you want?”

Abby looked at the trees. “I don’t want one.”

“Listen, Abby. The whole island is flooding and you need a tree to ride on in the water.”

“Why is there a flood?” she said. “It didn’t rain.”

“The earthquake caused the flood.”

“I don’t want to be in a flood. I want my cupcake. You promised me that if I kept walking, I could have lemonade and a cupcake.”

“I didn’t know the camper was going to be wrecked. Now, which tree do you want? If you don’t choose, I’ll choose for you.”

Abby pointed to the tree closest to her. “That one.”

“Good choice. This is now your very own personal tree.” He dragged the tree over to where Abby sat. She patted it.

Jonathan thought it was large enough to support Abby but he would need a bigger tree, something that would keep both him and Moose afloat.

He spotted one about twenty feet away.

“I pick that one,” he said. He tried to pull the tree closer to Abby but it was too heavy. Instead, he dragged her tree next to the one he had chosen and then helped Abby walk to it. His tennis shoes squished as he sloshed through the water.

“Watch me. This is what you need to do.”

Jonathan lay on his stomach on top of his tree, with his
armpits on the tree trunk. “Keep your arms around the tree, like this,” he said. “No matter what happens, don’t let go. The tree is your friend and will help you stay above the water.”

Abby said nothing.

“Do you understand?”

“My shoes are getting wet.”

“We’re going to ride the trees now,” Jonathan said. “We’re each going to lie on our own tree. You lie down on yours and I’ll lie on mine and we’ll hold tight. The trees will be our boats, if the water gets too high.”

“What’s my tree’s name?”

“You get to name it. It can be anything you want. You can name my tree, too.”

“My tree is Charlotte and yours is Wilbur.”

“All right,” Jonathan said. She could name it Dracula, for all he cared. “Lie down on top of Charlotte,” he said.

“I can’t. My tree is too low.”

Jonathan put his hands under Abby’s armpits and eased her down into a sitting position. Then he helped her lie flat along the length of the tree, with her cheek resting on the bark. As he did, he was acutely aware that she would not be able to get up off the tree by herself. He would need to stay with her.

“Put your hands on Charlotte’s trunk and hold on.”

Abby did.

“No matter what happens,” Jonathan said, “don’t let go of your tree. It isn’t just a tree any more. It’s your boat.”

The water covered his shoes now.

“I want Mommy and Daddy to come back.”

“They’re trying to come, but it’s going to take awhile. The road is blocked and the bridge is out.”

“Out where?”

“It broke. The bridge fell down.”

Abby raised her head and smiled. “That’s what happened in London,” she said, and she began to sing. “London bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down.”

She’s so little, Jonathan thought. She’s so little and helpless and she has no idea how much trouble we’re in.

“London bridge is falling down, my fair lady.”

The water was ankle deep and Jonathan feared it might be a long time before they were rescued. The road toward the bridge on the other side of the island was probably blocked by fallen trees. It could be hours before anyone knows the bridge is gone.

If he and Abby floated away from Magpie Island, even a helicopter might have trouble spotting them. And if it did spot them, how would it land in a river?

Maybe he should put Abby on his tree and try to stay together. But he needed to keep Moose with him and he was afraid their combined weight would be too much to allow the small tree to float. No, he decided. Best to each take a tree.

Abby’s tree moved.

“You’re floating already,” Jonathan said.

Abby quit singing. “This is fun,” she said.

Some fun, Jonathan thought grimly, but he’d rather have Abby think it was a game than to have her screaming in terror.

“My boat is moving,” Abby said. “Charlotte is swimming in the water.”

“Hang on,” Jonathan said. “Wrap your arms around Charlotte and hang on.” Fear rose in his throat. The water was moving too quickly; it was getting deep too fast. At this rate, the entire island would be underwater long before anyone had a chance to rescue them.

Would Abby hang on? Would she be able to, even if she tried? He needed a way to tie Abby to the tree, so she couldn’t fall off.

Jonathan looked at Moose’s leash. If he unleashed the dog, he could use the leash to strap Abby to the tree. But what about Moose? If they were about to float down the river on these trees, as Jonathan expected, he needed a way to pull Moose back to the tree, if Moose fell off. And if they somehow made it to shore, he would need the leash there—to keep Moose from running after a wild animal or bolting in fear if there were more aftershocks.

Jonathan’s head pounded. He was tired of making decisions. It was too hard to know which action to take when the choices might mean life or death.

If he strapped Abby to the tree, she would not be able to get off, even if she needed to. What if she floated close to shore and had a chance to grab a tree branch and pull herself to safety? Abby’s arms were strong; it was only her legs that didn’t work right.

If she were strapped to the tree, she might not be able to save herself, if she had the chance.

He left the leash on Moose.

He lay stomach-down on his tree and put one hand on the ground, ready to wrap it around the tree as soon as the water was deep enough. He put his other hand on Abby’s tree, just above her head, and gripped the bark with his fingers. If he could keep the two trees together, he would be able to keep Abby from panicking.

“Charlotte is going to float down the river,” Abby said.

“So is Wilbur. We’re both going for a boat ride.” Jonathan tried to sound excited and happy but his voice came out strained. His tree moved beneath him; he, too, was now afloat.

Abby started to sing. “Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream.”

Jonathan closed his eyes.
Please, God
, he prayed.
Please let someone find us soon.

“Sing with me,” Abby said. “Do a round, like Mommy does.” She began the song again.

Jonathan rested his cheek against the bark on the tree and, at the appropriate time, joined his sister’s song.

“Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.”

Some dream, he thought, as the trees bobbed in the rising water. This was worse than any nightmare he’d ever had.

Moose stood beside Jonathan’s tree. The water was up to the dog’s belly.

“Come on, Moose,” Jonathan said. “You’ll have to share my tree.”

He sat up, straddling the tree trunk, and, using both hands, hauled Moose on to the tree. Moose’s paws slipped off and Moose splashed back on to the ground.

Jonathan tried again. This time, he kept his arms wrapped around Moose’s middle. “Sit,” he commanded. “Sit on the tree.”

Instead of sitting, Moose lay down with his nose toward the top end of the tree and his tail toward Jonathan. Quickly, Jonathan moved forward and lay with his chest on Moose’s back. He could hold Moose and hang on to the tree at the same time.

Once it reached them, the water rose fast. One minute their trees rested on the ground and then, only a short time later, they were floating in water so deep that when Jonathan put his right hand down, he could no longer feel the forest floor.

His left arm curved around the bottom side of his tree with Moose’s leash around his wrist.

With his right hand, Jonathan clutched Abby’s tree, trying to keep it from floating away from him.

“Hang on tight,” he reminded Abby. “We might not be able to stay together, so no matter where your Charlotte boat goes, hang on to it.”

Abby’s head jerked up and she looked at him. “I want to stay with you,” she said, clearly close to tears again.

“I’ll stay as close as I can.”

“I want Moose on my boat.”

“No,” Jonathan said. “Moose has to stay with me.” Abby
would never be able to manage the dog on her own. Moose weighed more than she did.

The sun painted the sky gold and then pink and, finally, a deep orange as it dropped below the horizon.

Their trees bumped the redwood’s roots, bounced backward, bumped again. Each time, they hit higher. Eventually, they floated around the roots, and over the trunk. The camper was no longer visible. Even the bright yellow awning had disappeared beneath the water.

“I’m scared.” Abby’s voice was a tiny whisper.

She’s too little to do this, Jonathan thought, and too weak.

The song leaped into his mind: Itsy-bitsy Abby, climbed up the waterspout. Down came the rain and washed poor Abby out.

No! She won’t get washed away, Jonathan thought. I can’t let her be washed away.

But no matter how fierce his determination, Jonathan knew, deep down, that what happened now was beyond his control.

“I want to go home,” Abby said.

T
he water rose swiftly.

All around them, small trees and branches bobbed like plastic toys in a giant bathtub. At first the trees seemed to float in a random pattern but as the water deepened, they moved in a single direction.