Double Threat

by F. Paul Wilson

  “How long has that been going on?” Becky said.

  She and Hendry were the only members of the seismology lab still in the building.

  “Just started. Have you ever seen anything like it?”

  Becky nodded. “Exactly a week ago. Just before the February twenty-six quake.”

  “You think we’ve got another coming?”

  “I don’t know. Our sample size is one. How do you make predictions from that?”

  “Do we send out an alert?”

  Damn. Her gut wanted to, but she couldn’t. The ShakeAlert Early Warning System had been set up to give people a heads-up that their world was about to start shaking. Lots of folks had downloaded the MyShake app so the alert came straight to their phones. It allowed a variable number of seconds—depending on how far you were from the epicenter—to get under a table or inside a door frame, or out of the building altogether.

  But ShakeAlert was dependent on the fast-moving P-waves that precede the much more damaging S-waves. Sending out an alert without seeing P-waves could be the equivalent of crying wolf. If ShakeAlert was to be effective, people had to trust it.

  “We have to wait,” she said, hoping she wouldn’t regret it. “Watch those sensors for a P-wave. The instant one appears, we’ll send an alert.”

  He stared at her. “You sound like you expect one.”

  Becky kept her eyes fixed on the screen. “I do.”

  9

  It was over soon, but not too soon. Rhys’s enthusiastic foreplay saw to that.

  “Nice,” Daley said, pulling the sheet up over her as they lay side by side on the bed.

  “Super nice.”

  “I came twice. That makes it double nice.”

  “You win then. Only once for me, but it was a doozy. I swear the lights dimmed.”

  “I thought they did too.”

  “Well, I guess I’m better than I thought.” Rhys rolled onto his side and kissed her cheek. “I tell you, I did not expect to end up here.”

  “Not on a first date, right? You could say I’m easy.”

  “No, I wouldn’t say that, and don’t you say it.”

  “Well, with the right guy I am. After dinner tonight, I knew we’d eventually end up here, if not next week, then the week after.”

  “How do you know there would have been a next week or a week after?”

  “Because you’re crazy about me.”

  He laughed. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Yeah. Pretty much. So I figured I could play games and put you off, or we could get down and get to it.”

  “When did you decide?”

  “When I saw what a terrible dancer you are but you kept trying.”

  “That sold you?”

  “Yeah, sorta. You hated it. You could have sat down and left me out there on my own. I mean, nobody has a partner in line dancing anyway. But you hung in there with me. You were already on my good side, but that was the clincher.”

  “That’s all it took?”

  “It’s the little things. Guys don’t realize that.”

  He slid his arm across her and hugged her closer. “I could get so used to this.”

  “Don’t,” she said.

  “What, hug you?”

  “No, get too used to this.”

  She sensed his body stiffen. “Why not?”

  “Nothing lasts.”

  “Some things do.”

  “Okay, let me revise that: Nothing good lasts.”

  “I didn’t realize you were such a pessimist.”

  “Realist.”

  “What’s real is I like you, Daley. Really, really like you. Like you said: crazy about you.”

  She wouldn’t say she was crazy about him. Not yet, anyway. She definitely liked him, but he wasn’t going to get all clingy, was he?

  “I like you too.”

  There. She said it.

  “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  “You must be very sheltered.”

  He laughed and sat up. “Oh, I definitely am. My family … the clan … they make up most of my social contacts, and we Pendrys make Mormons look wild and crazy.”

  Light filtered in from the front room and she noticed a discolored area of skin behind his right shoulder. She’d felt it when she’d had her arms around him … rough.

  “Do you mind me asking? What’s that on your shoulder?”

  “Hmmm? Oh, that’s what we call ‘the Pendry Patch.’ Everyone in the clan has one.”

  “Really? Everyone?”

  “Yep. Different sizes, different places, but as they say, ‘You’re not a Pendry if you don’t have the Patch.’”

  Daley suddenly felt a strange tingling sensation. Some tingling could be pleasant, like the anticipation of sex, but this was nothing like that. This came with an edginess that made her uncomfortable.

  She slid out of bed and found her panties.

  “What’s wrong?” Rhys said as she began slipping back into them. “Is it the Patch?”

  “No-no. Not that at all. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve got this strange feeling, inside and out. You don’t feel weird at all?”

  “I feel great. I’d feel even better if you were back in here beside me.”

  She didn’t bother with her bra, just grabbed one of the XXXL T-shirts she slept in and slipped it over her head.

  She didn’t know what to say to him. Was this some sort of anxiety attack? She’d felt something like this last week before the quake. Maybe getting next to Rhys and letting him hold her was what she needed. But as she stepped toward the bed, the room jolted with a loud boom!

  Her first thought was a bomb, or a truck crashing into the building, but then the floor started shaking. No, not just the floor, the room—the whole building.

  “Quake!” she cried. “Another quake!”

  Rhys was out of bed, pulling on his Dockers. He grabbed his shirt, then grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the door.

  “We’ve got to get out of here! The whole place could come down!”

  He had that right. The floor was shaking as a deep basso rumble vibrated through the beams and the studs and the wall and floor planking, much worse than last week.

  He pushed her ahead of him. “Go! I’m right behind you!”

  She yanked open the back door and pelted down the steps in her bare feet, then ran to where she’d parked his car and put it between her and the building. Rhys joined her.

  “Made it!” he said, pulling on his shirt. “Safe!”

  Yeah, they were. No trees, no other buildings close enough to endanger them by collapsing.

  “Unless a fault opens up directly beneath us,” she said.

  He laughed. “Always looking on the bright side, aren’t you?”

  “That’s me. And don’t think I don’t appreciate how you made sure I got out the door first.”

  He shrugged. “My ‘toxic masculinity.’”

  Damn, she liked this guy. Had to watch that. Nothing lasts.

  The ground was still shaking, rolling like ocean swells. In fact she had to lean on the car to keep from swaying back and forth.

  “When’s it gonna stop?” she said.

  “This is a bad one.”

  (“What is going on? Another quake? I can’t leave you alone even for a few hours, can I?”)

  Oh, you’re back.

  (“Well, it’s midnight.”)

  I missed you terribly.

  (“Sarcasm noted. Judging from your dishabille and young Pendry’s presence, I’m assuming you found a way to alleviate the despondency you suffered due to my absence.”)

  Not easy, but I managed. You didn’t feel the quake?

  (“I cut off all sensory inputs, remember. I gather I missed out on some rather pleasurable input pre-quake?”)

  Very, but really not your business. Extend your time-out, please.

  (“Really? I hate to miss the quake.”)

  I’m sure there’ll be plenty of aftershocks.

  (“V
ery well. See you in an hour.”)

  Finally it stopped rolling and they leaned back against the SUV.

  “Big one,” Rhys said. “And close. Too bad it didn’t come a few minutes earlier so I could have claimed I made the earth move for you.”

  Daley threw her head back and laughed. Damn, she liked him.

  FRIDAY—MARCH 6

  1

  (“That quake really made a mess,”) Pard said as he wandered ahead of her through the jumbled shop, hands on hips, surveying the damage.

  Shelves had shaken off the walls, a display case had tipped over, but worst of all, the front window had shattered, littering both the inside floor and the boardwalk with sharp shards of glass. The aftershocks hadn’t helped.

  (“I’m sorry I missed it.”)

  “Remember that strange tingling I had before the quake last week?”

  (“Exactly one week ago.”)

  “That’s right. Last Thursday. This isn’t going to be a weekly thing, is it?”

  (“Let’s hope not. But I sense you’re going to tell me you had the same feeling before this one?”)

  “The same tingling, only much worse.”

  (“And this quake was worse. There’s a correlation there, but that doesn’t necessarily mean a cause-effect relationship.”)

  “Bigger tingle, bigger quake. I’m surprised the whole building didn’t come down.”

  (“This place has been here a long time. Probably seen a load of quakes.”)

  It looked like whoever had vandalized the empty store next door had come back to do the same to Daley’s shop. She’d found a broom in a closet upstairs but …

  “I don’t know where to begin.”

  Movement at the window—or rather, the open space where the window had been—caught her eye. Someone in bib-front denim overalls stood there.

  “Juana!”

  “I thought I heard you talking to someone,” she said, peering around inside.

  “To myself.”

  “Figured you’d need help.”

  Daley wanted to hug her. “Absolutely, but how’s your place?”

  “Thought it was going to tip over, but it survived upright.”

  “Great. But I’ve got only one broom.”

  “That’s all right. I brought my own. Let me unstrap them from the hog.”

  (“Did you see the relieved expression on her face? She was worried about you.”)

  At least somebody is.

  (“What about Lover Boy?”)

  Up at the Lodge, working with his daddy, I suppose.

  After hanging out by the car and weathering a few aftershocks as midnight passed, Rhys had resettled her in her apartment before heading home.

  (“I thought you liked him.”)

  I do, but he’s under daddy’s thumb, I’m afraid.

  (“Well, his ‘daddy’ is one focused and forceful individual. And we, my dear, are in his crosshairs.”)

  Daley didn’t like the sound of that.

  What do you mean?

  (“Those pointed questions, verging on a third-degree interrogation, about whether or not you had a silent partner in this place.”)

  He couldn’t possibly know … could he?

  (“I don’t see how, but didn’t our mysterious visitor say, ‘I hear you talking at night’? Could he be in contact with the Pendrys? Even spying for them?”)

  Could be, but not likely. I mean, if that’s true, why tell us he listens? And it ignores the basic question of why anyone would care. Either I’ve got a partner or I don’t, but what difference does it make? Why would it matter?

  (“Beats me. But the fact is you do have a silent partner—me.”)

  Juana reappeared then with a push broom and a dustbin. Pard disappeared and the two of them got down to business.

  2

  Rhys found himself whistling as he walked from his bedroom to the dining room and cut it off. Wouldn’t do to appear too content, now, would it? After all, he’d been out on a serious mission for the clan last night.

  Yeah, last night.

  Was the air a little fresher, the sky a little brighter? Probably not, but it sure seemed that way.

  “I’m not surprised you’re late,” his father said as he arrived at the breakfast table. “You were out till well past midnight. With that earthquake and all, I was worried till I got your text.”

  Rhys pictured him waiting up, watching by the window.

  “Well, Dad, one must always be ready to make sacrifices for the clan, right? A little less sleep is a small price to pay where the clan is concerned.”

  If last night was a sacrifice, he’d volunteer for similar duty every time. He still couldn’t believe they’d ended up in bed. Daley was more casual about sex than any of the Pendry women—more casual than Rhys, to tell the truth—but she did seem genuinely attracted to him. And Rhys … well, he hadn’t stopped thinking about her.

  But since he couldn’t let on about that, he added, “We got caught out in the quake.” He knocked on the dining room wall. “The Lodge seems to have come through fine.”

  “With all we’ve spent on making it earthquake proof, it damn well better.” He started buttering a piece of toast. “Did you learn anything?”

  “We spent hours together, Dad, and frankly, I don’t think there’s anything to learn.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I can’t see that she’s hiding anything. In fact, I don’t think she has a deceptive bone in her body.”

  “The stars say otherwise.”

  Here we go …

  “You met her. What was your impression?”

  Dad chewed his toast and seemed to be considering his reply. Rhys knew he’d made an instant assessment last night.

  Finally he swallowed and said, “She strikes me as something of a gamine.”

  “Okay, you’ve got me there. ‘Gamine’?”

  “A streetwise girl—or ‘woman,’ if you insist.”

  Streetwise … yeah, he could buy that. Daley had definitely seen a lot more in her life than Rhys. Pretty shrewd assessment on his father’s part.

  “Well, she’s certainly no Pollyanna.”

  Unless, of course, Pollyanna had been very enthusiastic in bed.

  “You wouldn’t be falling for her, would you?”

  “Falling? Not a chance.”

  Falling, as in the process of? Nope. That’s over and done. I’ve totally fallen.

  “Don’t lose all judgment just because the Duad takes you to her bed.”

  Rhys had been reaching for the French press. His hand froze in midair.

  “What?”

  “I believe I spoke clearly.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  Rhys poured coffee to hide his shock.

  “I think it’s a pretty fair assumption, considering how the two of you were observed in a partially undressed state behind her shop during the quake.”

  A protest leaped to his lips, but he realized the futility of denying it.

  “I don’t believe this! You were spying on us?”

  “Don’t be silly. I don’t need spies to know what’s going on in town. ‘The night has a thousand eyes,’ as the saying goes. People saw you two. And when they see something like that, they talk about it. And when they talk about a Pendry, it gets back to me.”

  Well, Rhys hadn’t seen anyone about. But then, with Daley dressed only in panties and an oversize T, he’d had eyes only for her.

  His father added, “You have a fiancée, you know.”

  “As you keep reminding while sending me out in pursuit of Daley.”

  “Rhys—”

  “We’ve had this discussion too many times, Dad. I’ve got work to do.”

  Taking his cup along with the French press, he headed for his office.

  3

  Jason Tadhak looked harried and hassled when he showed up shortly after what would have been opening time.

  “It’s weird,” he said, shaking his head. “All the windows on this side of th
e street are smashed, but just across the street, only cracked. Not that it matters as far as repairs go: They’ve all got to be replaced.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Daley said, especially since she was here rent-free.

  He gave her a strained smile. “That’s why we have insurance.”

  “It seemed a lot stronger than the last,” Juana said.

  “Definitely a higher Richter. The last was three-point-six. The news says this was a five-point-five. Calexico and Mexicali were hardest hit. Still not as bad as the El Centro quake back in 1940. That was six-point-nine and damn near wrecked the town. You should have seen what a mess that was.”

  Daley laughed and he gave her a questioning look.

  “Oh, not that it’s funny, just that you sound like you were there.”

  “What?” Now he looked flustered. “Oh, no. I wasn’t even born then. My father told me all about it. He took pictures. It caused a thirty-five-mile surface rupture, fifteen feet across in places.”

  “Now that’s scary,” Daley said.

  “Damn right. Imagine having that open up under your house. I hear this new one opened up a twenty-mile crack that crosses the border, up to ten feet wide.”

  “That’s two in a week,” Juana said, “and the second stronger than the first. I hope this isn’t building toward something.”

  “Don’t we all.” To Daley: “I’ll send a fellow around with some blue tarp to cover the window space.”

  Daley had been thinking about that. “That’ll make the place look closed. The town doesn’t seem very buggy…”

  “Hardly any,” Juana said. “The lizards eat most of them.”

  Jason grinned. “The little lizards do. I don’t know what the giant lizards eat.”

  Daley rubbed the corner of an eye with her middle finger, and he laughed.

  “You can’t leave the shop wide open.” He backed toward the door. “Well, got to check on the rest of the tenants.”

  “How’s Arturo, by the way?” Juana said.

  “Just getting up and running when I looked in.”

  He waved and was on his way.