New Madrid Earthquake

by Bobby Akart

  Tony slipped away from Jack, Jill and the kids. His face became concerned momentarily as he moved hesitantly toward the front steps.

  Suddenly, Anthony appeared in the doorway, holding one of the cardboard cutout Christmas decorations he’d created with Emily. It was a white star with red and green sparkles glued on it. He stepped onto the porch and held it out to show his dad.

  “Star. Star light. Star bright.”

  Tony broke down as he dropped to his knees on the steps. “That’s right, son. Just like I taught you. Star light, star bright.”

  Tony had taken Anthony to the rooftop of their building one night to view Comet Oort when it flew in near proximity to Earth. Anthony had become fascinated by the stars, so his dad had repeated the “Star Light, Star Bright” nursery rhyme. That had been a year ago, and he couldn’t recall Anthony ever mentioning it.

  He closed his eyes as he hugged his son. He squeezed the young boy harder than he meant to because, he presumed, he knew why the Mississippi Highway Patrol car was here. Something had happened to Beth.

  He was wrong. Sort of.

  He opened his eyes, and there she stood in the doorway. Angelic. The soft glow of the fire and the setting sun on the other side of the house created a silhouette effect.

  He blinked several times and then released his bear hug of Anthony and wiped his tears away. She was holding something. His heart leapt out of his chest.

  Was it?

  He slowly released Anthony and stood. He was crying so hard he couldn’t focus his eyes. Tony was unable to speak. He slowly lifted his hand and pointed at her.

  A smile came over her tear-soaked face. She nodded rapidly up and down. Tony gently rubbed his hands over the top of Anthony’s head. He walked slowly to greet his wife. He fought the urge to hug her like he did his son. Beth was fragile. Delicate. And she’d given birth to their baby.

  With the Atwoods looking on, Tony and Beth held one another, alternating between looking into each other’s eyes and down to the pink cherub snuggled between them. They whispered to one another, cried more tears, and then began to laugh. If any love had been lost between them over time, it was found and rekindled in their hearts and minds.

  Jill, the undisputed leader of the clan, suggested everyone return inside. Darkness would be setting in, and after two consecutive nights of clear skies, temperatures would be falling, making it all the more difficult to keep the house warm.

  Tony lifted Anthony onto his hip and followed Beth inside. Tate helped his dad up the steps, followed by Emily. Jill paused a moment and looked around the yard. She gazed toward the sky and said a prayer, thanking God for protecting all of her family and giving them a roof over their heads.

  Then she smiled and said to anyone outside their home that might hear her words. “Godspeed and merry Christmas.”

  Inside, as was often the case during family gatherings, everyone gravitated toward the kitchen. In normal times, it was because food was being prepared or snacks were laid out to munch on. Once a couple of family members or their friends began to hang out around the kitchen island, chatting and munching, the rest did as well.

  This evening was different. The family room was covered with mattresses. All of the other places to sit had been moved into other rooms or shoved against a wall. Nonetheless, the kitchen was the heart of the Atwood home, and everyone had gathered there as they recovered from their highly emotional reunion in the front yard.

  Jill and Emily worked together to open up crackers, peanuts and chips to munch on. Cans of Frito Bean Dip, Jack’s favorite, and jars of salsa were spread across the counter for everyone to enjoy. She even poured a bag of pretzels, a box of Life cereal, and a bag of bagel chips into a large bowl to create her own recipe of Chex Mix.

  Jill completely abandoned her post-apocalyptic meal-rationing plan developed earlier in the day. In the joyous moment, she was reminded of how you only live life once. Last Thursday, the day before the earthquakes started, she’d had no idea it was the day before an apocalyptic event. Had she known it was the day before, her purchases at Costco would’ve looked much different.

  That’s the way life can be, she thought to herself. When you’re given lemons, you figure out a way to make lemonade. For tonight, the family would celebrate their survival and reunion. Tomorrow was Christmas. They’d thank the Lord for their blessings and discuss their future, whatever that might look like.

  She and Emily retrieved glasses out of the cupboard. Jill had purchased two bottles of sparkling grape juice for Beth to join in the holiday festivities. They opened them and poured drinks for everyone. She imagined the harder stuff would be poured later when the kids were asleep or otherwise preoccupied. Discussion of their future would require a stiff drink for them all.

  Jill raised her glass, and everyone, including young Anthony, followed suit. “We have lots of things to discuss, but for now, I hope that we can focus on our family and how thankful we are to be alive. It’s Christmas Eve, the night when we come together as a family. It’s always been a happy time for us. I propose we enjoy it like always, making the best of the blessings God has given us.”

  “I agree!” said Tony.

  “Same here,” added Jack. “Merry Christmas, everyone!”

  “Merry Christmas!” they replied, and the sounds of glasses clinking together filled the room. Emily tried to suppress a burp from the sparkling grape juice, drawing laughs from the parents.

  Beth wasn’t shy about it as she amplified her burp so loud that it startled Jill. She laughed.

  “Whoa! I needed that!”

  Her husband kissed her on the cheek and held his hand out to hold their newborn. Jill walked up to them and whispered, “Why don’t you guys spend some time talking in the bedroom? Tate stacked some logs on the hearth for you. Just come out when you’re ready, or go to sleep if you want.”

  Tony reached for Jill’s hand. “Thank you for all that you’ve done for us. And …” he began. Leaning forward, he locked eyes with Jill. “There is no better man on this planet than Jack Atwood. I mean that.”

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Monday, Christmas Eve

  Atwood Residence

  Cordova, Tennessee

  Jill was alone with her husband for the first time. Tate and Emily worked together to create some kind of seating arrangement in the living room, easily sliding furniture around on the hardwood floors. Anthony went to the master suite with his parents so the Chandlers could reconnect. Jack sat still with his arm outstretched across the breakfast table while Jill carefully wrapped his wrist sprain.

  Tate had offered to check his injured wrist to determine if was sprained or broken. When Jack resisted, Tate said, matter-of-factly, that he’d seen injuries like this a hundred times on the football field. Jack indulged his son, who was smiling as he tried to convince his dad to give him his wrist to examine.

  “Not gonna happen,” Jack said defiantly. “Your uncle Tony pulled this same spiel on me earlier. Then he tried to twist my hand off to see if it was, in fact, broken. Heck, if it wasn’t before, it sure is now.”

  Tate started laughing and reached for his father’s wrist. He swore not to hurt him, but Jack refused. The family got a laugh from the teasing Jack endured, and it served to turn the conversation with the kids away from what they’d been through toward settling in until their ripped-open world could be sutured back together again somehow.

  Jill didn’t think she had any more tears in her, but apparently a few were replenished. As she wrapped his tender wrist, she glanced up at his eyes. “I never gave up, Jack. But, by this morning, the negative thoughts began to creep into my mind. I thought I’d lost you.”

  “We’ve all been through a lot, love,” he said as she tucked the wrist wrap into place. Jack pulled it up and tried to bend it slightly. It was a snug fit. “Every obstacle was just another step to getting home to you. I tried not to make panicked, emotional decisions. Tony helped a lot. I’m really proud of him.”

  Jill
leaned back in her chair and nodded. “They’ve been through a lot. I think, in an odd way, this may have brought them closer.”

  “At some point, when you’re comfortable, you can tell me the details of what you guys went through. For me, it might be a long time before I can tell you everything. It was just so sad, Jill. So many people died. They never had a chance. We tried to help when we could, but we couldn’t risk our lives when we had to get home to our families.”

  Jack closed his eyes and welled up in tears. In those few seconds of silence between them, his mind raced from the moment they first felt the quake at the Top of the Met, to their trek south to West Memphis, to the multiple times they should’ve died crossing the river. He wasn’t ready to discuss any of that. Not for some time.

  Jill felt the same way. However, the kids were a different matter. “I think Tate and Emily need to relay their experiences if they can. Tate’s girlfriend is missing. In the Halloran, kinda like you, he saved lives, but he had to abandon rescuing others. Emily’s experience was different.”

  “What happened?”

  Jill explained everything Emily had been willing to repeat to her after the incident. She’d clearly withheld information from her mother, in part because her brother was around, and he had a tendency to tease her, but mostly because she felt safer keeping it bottled inside. Jill hoped their daughter would open up to Jack.

  Tate and Emily appeared in the breakfast room. “I think we’ve got a pretty good setup. Wanna come see?”

  The family moseyed through the family room and then down the open hallway-foyer combination into the formal living room. The kids had done a great job. They’d even centered the ten-by-thirteen Oriental rug in the space. The living room resembled a small version of a dance studio with all the seating facing in and the rug placed in the center, ready for the contestants to cut it, so to speak.

  “Great job, guys!” said Jack enthusiastically. He started to raise his right hand out of habit to exchange high fives but quickly drew it behind his back. He imagined he’d bump his wrist a thousand times before the sprain healed. Left-handed high fives would have to suffice.

  “We need some side tables or even nightstands,” suggested Jill. “Um, Tate, why don’t you give me a hand?”

  Jack, feeling helpless, spoke up. “I can do it with one hand, I think.”

  Jill shook her head. “Nah. Tate and I can handle it. Why don’t you and Emily take a moment to talk?”

  Jack understood. She’d created a diversion to get father and daughter alone for a little while.

  “Sounds like a plan. Hey, Em. Wanna join me on the loveseat?”

  “Cozy and warm?” she asked as she rushed over and plopped down.

  “Absolutely,” he replied.

  The two made small talk for a moment. Then Jack broached the subject of her near-death experience in the lake. Emily never cried as she spilled all the details of what had happened. She’d developed an inner strength through the ordeal that Jack didn’t know she possessed. As she relayed the details, she gradually got to the part she’d been unable to tell her mother.

  “Daddy, please don’t think I’m crazy when I tell you this.”

  “Honey, everything that happened to us may have been crazy, but we aren’t.”

  “I didn’t want to worry Mom. She might not let me go swimming again.”

  Jack chuckled and whispered into his daughter’s ear, “If I told her what happened to me in the river, she’d make us all move to Mount Everest or some other place as far away from water as we can get.”

  Emily took a deep breath and began to fidget. Her feet kicked against the bottom of the loveseat, and she mindlessly played with her fingers. She found the courage to speak.

  “Daddy, one time, I thought I couldn’t swim anymore. I couldn’t find my way back to the top of the water. It was so muddy down there. And dark. I wanted to breathe so badly, but I knew I couldn’t.”

  Emily’s fidgeting picked up. Her legs swung more, and she clasped her hands together until parts of her fingers turned white. The candlelight reflected off her face, showing her consternation. However, there were no tears.

  “Honey, if you don’t—” Jack began as he gently placed his left hand over hers.

  “It’s okay. Daddy.” She turned in the loveseat slightly to face him. “Um, I had help.”

  “From who?”

  Emily paused again. She took a deep breath and responded after a long moment. “They were people. Except, um, they weren’t. Each of them looked like a different butterfly. They were all around me. Even in the muddy water, they were pretty. Elegant like princesses. Except they had wings.”

  Jack fully understood. He’d experienced them as well. The passage of time had caused the details in his memory to fade. Nonetheless, they were his guardian angels once in his lifetime, and now they’d apparently reappeared to save his precious child.

  When her dad didn’t say anything, Emily dropped her chin to her chest, and a few tears dripped down her cheeks. “You don’t believe me. That’s okay. I saw them.”

  Jack put his arm around Emily’s shoulders and pulled her close to his chest. He whispered to her, “I do believe you, Em. You know why? I’ve seen them, too. They saved me once. I’ll never forget it.”

  She looked up to his face. Children had an incredible, built-in bullshit meter. Emily could read her father better than Jill could.

  “Really? You’re not just saying that, are you?”

  “No, honey. I swear. One day, when things settle down, I’ll tell you my story the best that I can remember it. Let’s just say I believe they helped me just like they helped you.”

  “Kinda like guardian angels, right, Dad?”

  “Exactly,” he replied. He thought for a few seconds. There needed to be a parental lesson out of this. He didn’t want the takeaway from Emily’s experience to be that she could throw caution to the wind and live life as a risk-taker. “That said, there were plenty of times in the last couple of days I wish the butterfly people had shown up to pull me to safety. They never did, so you can’t really count on them every time.”

  “I know,” said Emily sheepishly. “Maybe only in the most dangerous times?”

  Jack leaned back on the loveseat. He tried to process the analysis of a twelve-year-old girl who’d just come off a near-death experience. Maybe the butterfly people knew he’d emerge from the depths of the Mississippi on his own? Maybe they knew he wouldn’t collapse with the building in St. Louis? Maybe he didn’t need their help? Well, at least this go-around.

  “Here we are,” announced Jill before she entered the living room. It was her way of warning Jack to wind up the conversation. He felt it was over, although at some point he expected to get quizzed by Emily about his own near-death experience. It would be something the two of them shared as father and daughter.

  Jill and Tate began to add tables to the furnishings. Candles were repositioned from other rooms so they now had a comfortable seating area in close proximity to the fireplace in the adjoining family room. The ransacked house was beginning to feel like a home again.

  An hour later, Tate and Emily, exhausted from the day’s activities, crawled into bed in front of the fire. Anthony wanted to sleep near his cousin. The baby was snuggled in a makeshift bassinette using a laundry basket and the softest blankets in the house. The adults were ready for their cocktail.

  Jack and Tony fixed everyone a drink. The group bundled up and wandered out to the back deck overlooking the lake. The moon provided enough illumination to give them a pretty good view across the water. The clear skies enabled them to see the tops of buildings on fire off in the distance.

  Although they’d promised during their toast in the kitchen earlier to save the serious conversations for another time, they broke the pact. At least in part. Most of the details of the catastrophe and how they managed to survive it might end up hidden from conversations for years. The more immediate concern as to what happens next was in the front of everyo
ne’s minds.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Monday, Christmas Eve

  Atwood Residence

  Cordova, Tennessee

  After some small talk and a couple of adult beverages, except for Beth, of course, because she’d be nursing, Jill took the floor. “Okay, before we start talking about what’s next, let me say that I’ve been making lists of everything in the house that we use on a daily basis. It’s kept me busy and focused rather than sitting around losing my mind over what happened to you guys.”

  Beth added, “They’re really detailed. I have to admit, as I was driving up here, I began to worry about formula, vitamins, diapers, and even postnatal doctor visits. It was weird, actually. It was almost like I was psyching myself up for the inevitable—a world where none of that stuff was available anymore.”

  Tony asked, “I don’t think it’s really that bad, do you? I mean, don’t get me wrong. Jack and I saw the devastation just like you did. But it’s fixable, right?”

  “I suppose anything can be rebuilt,” replied Jack. “You’ve heard the old saying. There’s nothing that time and money can’t solve.”

  Jill continued. “The real question for me is time. We don’t have access to our money, not that there’s anyplace we can spend it. Besides, the market probably got crushed.”

  “No worries, honey,” said Jack. “Tony pulled off the financial move of the century. We’re probably really rich right now and don’t know it. However, it doesn’t do any good in the near term.”

  “What do we do?” asked Beth.

  “I haven’t mentioned this to you yet,” Jill began in her answer to Beth. “There’s a huge tear in the earth on the north side of I-40. For miles, homes, stores, and businesses were sucked into the ground. It’s hard to imagine.”