They hurried, scrambling over twisted rebars, dodging jagged edges of concrete as they headed down into a black abyss ten feet below them. Breathing hard, Callie leaped to another concrete wedge that stuck out like a wing on an aircraft. Dusty again jerked hard on the leash, which slipped out of Callie’s hand. He disappeared below them, his barking sharp, loud and joyful.
Her heart pounded and her breathing was labored as she followed, moving as quickly as she could. Alive! He’d found someone alive! Switching on her flashlight, Callie climbed down off the slab of concrete and dropped into the crevasse. Dusty had disappeared, his high-pitched bark echoing. Flashing her light downward, Callie wondered what he’d found.
Morgan was right behind her, breathing in gasps. Since he was a lot taller, he was able to lift Callie up when she wedged her ankle in a crack, and set her free. Flashing the light around the space, Callie saw twisted lengths of mangled steel. Gray powder from pulverized concrete fell as her booted feet found purchase. Regaining her balance, Callie stepped aside as Morgan eased himself down beside her.
“What is it?” he gasped, gazing around in the darkness.
Callie’s beam of light stabbed through the blackness toward where Dusty was barking. The golden retriever stood beside what looked like the entrance to a tunnel. Dropping down on her hands and knees, Callie praised the dog.
Instantly, Dusty sat down next to the tunnel opening. He was wagging his tail and panting heavily.
Callie patted him. “Good boy!” she exclaimed. “Sit, Dust. Sit and be quiet.”
The dog sat, stopped barking, though his tail thumped wildly with elation. His brown eyes shone.
Morgan squeezed down into the narrow space next to her, their shoulders touching. Callie felt her face break out with perspiration as she studied the small tunnel entrance, an opening barely larger than she was.
“What?” he gasped. “What do you see?” She could feel his heart thundering, as hers was. Someone was alive! Could it be his wife? His heart must be bursting with agony and hope.
“Shh,” Callie cautioned. In the distance, she could hear the growl of the bulldozers and the chuttering of the gasoline-fed generator across the street. “Just a moment…” She hunkered down even closer, careful not to go into the tunnel itself. With the aftershocks, the whole thing could shift and crush anyone who went in there.
“Hello!” Callie called, flashing her light into the abyss. “This is Callie. I’m here to help you. Can you hear me? If you can, call out.” Her voice was absorbed by the tunnel. Her flashlight revealed that it sloped gently downward about six feet and then curved sharply to the right. It was a big enough opening for either Dusty or herself to crawl into, but there was no guarantee it stayed that large. The shaft might suddenly stop or narrow further.
“Help…!”
The voice was weak, yet Callie heard it distinctly. It was a woman’s voice, she was sure. The strong draft rushing past them made it hard for her to hear. Callie eased into the tunnel, her shoulders brushing concrete and rebar as she strained forward.
“I hear you! What’s your name?” Callie called strongly. Again her voice was absorbed by the tunnel, muffled by the wind rushing past. Callie heard Morgan shift restlessly, and felt him nearby.
“…Laura…”
Gasping, Callie called back, “What’s your last name, Laura?” Her heart pounded. She heard Morgan gasp behind her.
“…Trayhern…”
“Oh, my God!” Morgan cried softly.
Callie grinned hugely and twisted to look up at him. His face was taut with relief, his eyes glittering with tears.
Heart pounding with joy, Callie called back. “Okay, Laura Trayhern…hold on! We’re gonna help you! Just hang on….”
Chapter Five
January 2: 2200
Wes huffed as he worked his way down to where Callie and Morgan were hunched in the narrow space between two concrete floors. Getting a call from Callie on the battery-operated radio had made his day. They’d found a survivor! He saw the hope burning in Morgan’s eyes. There was a wide, joyful smile wreathing Callie’s dirty, strained features. What touched him most were the tears he saw glimmering on the cheeks of both.
“She’s alive!” Callie crowed triumphantly as Wes knelt down near the tunnel where she was crouched.
“What’s the protocol on this?” he asked her.
“Get in there and find out what kind of medical shape she’s in,” Callie answered. “Give her water right away. She’ll be dehydrated. And I’ll need a blanket, because quake victims are usually cold, sometimes hypothermic.” When they’d called Wes on the radio to tell him the news, he’d told her Sergeant Cove and Corporal Orlando would be right with him. Now she was glad Wes’s men were coming. They were going to need some muscle on this rescue.
Scowling, Wes switched on his light, knelt down and studied the twisting tunnel. It was small, too small for any of his men to get into. Callie could do it; so could her dog. But was it too dangerous for either to go in there? “You sent Dusty in already?”
Callie grinned and hunkered down beside him, their bodies wedged together. “No, we never send our dog in. I’ll go in.”
“What if we get an aftershock?” Fear ate at Wes.
Callie’s face was shining with hope, her eyes wide with eagerness and excitement. She was already taking off her helmet and her thick cammo jacket, stripping down to her green T-shirt and pants. She adjusted the web belt around her slender waist, shifting the canteen to one side so that it rested on her left hip, less likely to snag on something when she crawled into the tunnel.
Shrugging, she said, “That’s the chance we take, Wes.” Glancing over at Morgan, whose face was alive with fear and hope, she reached out and gripped his hand. “I’m going to try and see if I can reach her, sir. If I can, I’ll assess her condition. I’ve got water on me, and I’ll give that to her if she’s conscious.”
The area where they stood was large enough for six people. To Callie, it was perfect for the rescue effort. The tunnel lay below two huge slabs of concrete that bracketed the area. That was why the tunnel had remained hidden until Dusty discovered it.
“Wait…” Wes took his small hand-held radio off his web belt. “Take this in with you.” He saw Sergeant Cove approach along with Corporal Orlando, and asked the sergeant for his radio. Immediately the officer took off his belt and handed it over. The hope on the marines’ faces was very real. Wes understood that hope, but so much could go wrong; they’d just had an aftershock an hour ago. But he focused on the task at hand, ordering Cove to retrieve some blankets from the tents and bring them back to the site.
“Thanks,” Callie said, affixing the radio to her web belt so it, too, would remain out of the way when she crawled in on her belly. Kneeling down at the entrance, she said, “Those aftershocks are about one hour and fifteen minutes apart. So I figure we’ve got ten or fifteen minutes before the next one.”
Wes placed his hand on her small shoulder. When he touched her, she twisted to look up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. He suddenly didn’t care what his gesture looked like to the other men. Fingers skimming her shoulder, he said, “Yeah, you’ve got ten minutes, Callie. Then you have to get out of there. And I don’t know how long it will take to get to Mrs. Trayhern.”
She sobered. “Or if I can.” Tearing her attention from the feel of his warm, protective hand on her shoulder, she studied the dark tunnel before her. “Pray that I can get to her in time….”
“Be careful,” Wes said in a low, raspy tone. Then he leaned down and whispered, “I want that first dance over at the O Club when we get back to the base and things settle down. Remember?”
His voice was husky with feeling. Gulping unsteadily, Callie realized that Wes was very serious about her and whatever relationship was growing between them. Her heart opened, and she relished the feel of his fingers digging briefly into her shoulder, signalling his concern for her.
“Okay,” she whispered. Callie gl
anced down at the watch on her left wrist, studying its luminous dials. “Call out to me every minute, will you? Once I get in there, I don’t know how much room there will be to lift my arm and check the time.” She gave him a crooked smile. “A dance, huh?”
“Yeah. Promise?”
“Promise,” she whispered. She gave Morgan, who stood off to the side and out of the way, a hopeful smile. His eyes burned with urgency, spurring her on as she moved gingerly into the tunnel.
Darkness instantly closed around Callie. She was on her belly, her leather-padded knees propelling her forward inches at a time down the shaft. Every movement, no matter how careful she was, brought a jab or a poke from some jagged debris. The strong draft brought fresh air whistling past her. Callie was so sweaty she could smell her own fear, and longed for a hot bath. With her flashlight on, the light stabbing through the inky darkness, Callie could see many pieces of broken glass, jagged concrete and bars of steel sticking out like porcupine quills along her route. It was like trying to slither slowly and carefully over a pincushion. The air hissed around her as she crept on her knees and elbows around the tight right turn. The tunnel abruptly plummeted into a nearly vertical descent for six feet.
Callie was breathing hard. “Laura?” she called, then waited. No answer. Gulping, her mouth dry, she blinked as sweat ran into her eyes. Again she hollered into the tunnel. “Laura? Can you hear me? It’s Callie. I’m coming in to find you….”
“I…yes I hear you. You’re close….”
Good. Gasping, Callie grinned and got ready to move on.
“One minute.”
Wes’s voice reached her just as she wriggled around the corner. Jabs of pain shot up through her elbows. Unlike her knees, they were unprotected. Ignoring the pain, she saw to her relief that the tunnel widened considerably on the down slope. Stifling the urge to hurry, Callie carefully chose where she would hang, one gloved hand anchoring her, so she didn’t tumble forward on the steep decline. The possibility of slicing open an artery in her hand or arm was very real if she fell, or didn’t watch where she placed her hands and feet.
She could smell so many odors, all of them obnoxious. The faint scent of natural gas scared her. Excrement and urine drifted toward her flared nostrils. Sweat leaked into her eyes again and she blinked rapidly to clear her vision. Breathing harshly, she saw the tunnel flatten out. There. The shaft ran horizontally once more. As she flashed the light ahead, Callie spotted a small space, a little over four feet in width and about three to four feet high. Obviously, one floor had settled on top of another in the collapse, leaving this small air space between two huge chunks of concrete. On the right, she saw a woman’s white hand and slender, graceful fingers covered with gray dust.
Callie moved gingerly into the space, quickly crawling the last five feet. She flashed the light, and Laura Trayhern looked back at her, her eyes huge with hope and terror. The woman lay on her back, with barely two feet between her and the ceiling hanging threateningly above her.
“Two minutes,” Wes called.
“Hi, Laura,” she whispered, grinning, “I’m Callie.” And she reached out and gripped the woman’s bloody hand.
Laura’s grip was strong. “Hi…thank you—thank you for coming….” And she began sobbing.
Callie maneuvered around in the tight space and pulled the canteen from her belt. “Here, let me give you some water. You gotta be dehydrated.” She was able to move into a half-kneeling position, and, sliding one arm beneath Laura’s neck, brought the canteen to her puffy, bloodied lips. The woman drank for a long time. As she did, Callie heard a loud groaning sound around them—the rubble straining again, threatening to shift. Would it settle on top of them, flattening the space? The threat was great.
When Laura stopped drinking, Callie took the canteen away and capped it. “Where are you hurt?” she asked in a breathless voice. Picking up the flashlight, she ran it across Laura’s unkempt blond hair and down her prone body.
“My right ankle,” Laura whispered, pointing toward it. “I’m trapped. I can’t reach it. Can you?”
Moving closer, Callie hit her head on the ceiling, causing a flash of pain. Biting down on her lower lip, she suppressed a groan. When warmth began to trickle down her head, Callie knew something had scored her scalp and opened it up. “Yes…I see it. Hold on…let me get down there….” She forced herself forward. “Otherwise, you okay? Any other medical problems?”
“I—I think I’m okay. Just my ankle, Callie.”
“Hey, did you know your husband is right outside this tunnel? He’s alive and well. He’s been looking for you nonstop.”
“Morgan?”
Callie heard the pain in her voice and declared, “Yes, ma’am. Your husband. He’s fine. He escaped the earthquake.”
Laura sobbed and pressed her hands to her lips. “Oh, thank you…thank you! He’s alive. He’s alive!”
Laughing softly, Callie said, “Yes, alive and well.” She pressed upward with her hand and began to shift big chunks of debris from around Laura’s ankle. As she did so she saw dark stains there on the woman’s wool skirt.
“Three minutes.”
Damn. Callie saw a piece of rebar that had arced over, trapping Laura’s ankle beneath it. Hunting around with her flashlight, Callie found another piece of rebar, about two feet long, behind her. She grabbed it.
“There’s a piece of steel rebar looped over your ankle, Laura,” she explained, breathing hard. “I’m going to try and leverage it up so we can get your ankle free. It might be painful. I don’t have much room to get to it.”
Sobbing, Laura whispered unsteadily, “Do what you have to, Callie. I want out of here. I just want to live….”
“Four minutes.”
Grunting and groaning, Callie slid the rebar into place on the slab. She heard Laura take in a breath.
“I’m sorry,” Callie whispered, and she gripped the lever with both gloved hands and pushed up. Nothing happened. Damn! It was a one-inch-thick steel bar, and it wasn’t going to bend easily. Callie pushed again, straining against it. She heard Laura moan in pain. Wiping her brow with her shaking hand, Callie glared at the rebar that had Laura trapped.
“Five minutes.”
Gasping for air, her mind spinning, Callie stared at the steel bar, trying to think of another way to loosen it. “You know, at times like this I hate being small. I don’t have the muscle I need,” she told Laura.
“I’m small, too. Hey, what we don’t have in muscle, we make up for in brains.”
Callie grinned. She liked Laura’s courage under the circumstances. “Right on, ma’am.”
“Call me Laura, Callie. What are you going to try and do?”
Callie explained her next idea, painting a verbal picture of the impediment that kept her trapped.
“What if you use a piece of wood under your lever? That would give you more force, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes…you’re right. Hold on….” Callie quickly flashed her light around.
“Six minutes.”
“Why are they calling out the minutes to you?” Laura asked.
Callie located a four-by-four length of wood. “Aftershocks have been occurring every hour and fifteen minutes. That leaves about five minutes until the next rumble. They want us out of here before the next one hits. We don’t know how unstable this place is and they don’t want us trapped down here if the rubble starts to shift.”
Laura nodded. She knew what Callie had left unspoken: that any aftershock could bury and kill them. “I—I understand, Callie. You get out of here, then, when your time is up. There’s no sense in both of us dying if this space doesn’t stand the pressures of another aftershock.”
Callie chuckled as she placed the wood beneath the lever next to Laura’s ankle. “Well, I didn’t tell them this, but I don’t care how long it takes, I’m staying here until I free you. I just told my lieutenant that to give him something to do because he’s afraid for me.”
“Sounds like a ni
ce guy.” Laura smiled a little. “You might be petite, but you’re mighty, Callie. I’m glad you’re here….”
“Okay…here we go, Laura….” And Callie placed her shoulder beneath the rebar. Gripping with both hands, she pushed up hard, throwing all her body weight against it. Move! Damn you, move! Gasping, she shoved with all her might.
“Seven minutes.”
Gasping hard, Callie lunged again into the rebar. Her shoulder hurt, bruised by every lunge she took. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest as she kept pushing, pushing, pushing until finally, the loop of rebar grudgingly gave way.
“There!” Laura cried.
“Eight minutes.”
Panting, Callie dropped the lever and pulled out the block of wood. “Okay, Laura, here’s what you need to do. Listen to me carefully and do exactly as I ask, okay?”
“Okay,” Laura whispered. Pain was stabbing hotly up her leg and past her knee. She felt faint from it, and her stomach rolled with nausea. Laura knew high levels of pain could make a person throw up, and it was the last thing she wanted to do right now. Trying to concentrate on Callie, who had crawled back over to her and placed her hand on her shoulder, Laura opened her eyes. The gray light in their coffin made Callie’s sweaty features shine.
“I want you to slowly roll over on your right side. I need to get you down off that table you’re lying on. As you roll, I’ll pull your upper body forward and down to the floor. I’ll catch you in my arms as you come toward me. But you gotta be careful. There’s a lot of glass and sharp objects here.”
Callie quickly took off her gloves and fitted them onto Laura’s hands. Then she took off her protective knee pads, strapping them around Laura’s knees. Finally, placing her hand protectively on the woman’s small shoulder, she grinned.
“You wear the equipment to get out of here. I know how to do escape stuff in my sleep. You ready?”
Laura gulped. “Y-yes…I’m ready.”
“On the count of three. One, two, three…” Callie used all her strength to pull Laura off the table as she rolled to the right. The woman was as small as she was, which was good.
The Heart Beneath Page 9