Shock Wave

by Dana Mentink

  The street was still dark and bizarrely quiet. San Francisco was a town of never-ending activity from the trucks rumbling along narrow streets, motorcyclists weaving in and out of traffic and the ever-present stream of people walking, jogging and yakking into cell phones. Now it was still, save for the few attended shops where people were helping each other to nail plywood over the broken windows and sweep up piles of shattered glass.

  “Morning,” a voice called, making her jump. Jerry was still sitting in the lawn chair, the shotgun perched in the crook of his arm and the finished yellow scarf neatly folded. Wally sat contentedly at his feet, dozing. “Did you get any shut-eye?”

  “Not really. Did you?”

  He winked. “Sleeping on guard duty? Not likely. I’m going to find some breakfast for us. If you’re looking for your boyfriend, he’s gone on a ramble.”

  Her face flushed. “He’s not my boyfriend. I just met him when he was serving in Afghanistan.”

  Jerry pulled at his mustache. “That’s the kind of place that really shows a man for what he is, isn’t it?”

  She didn’t know how to answer. Afghanistan had showed Trey to be duty-driven, stubborn, angry. She realized with a start, it had revealed exactly the same thing about herself with one more trait mixed in...weakness. She’d thought she was strong enough to take anything the war could dish out. How wrong she’d been. How tragically wrong. She realized Jerry was looking at her.

  “Where did Trey go?”

  Jerry pointed with the shotgun toward the rear of the Imperial. “There. About ten minutes ago.”

  “Thanks.” Sage hurried across the street, trying her best to avoid the pockets of crushed brick and glass as she skirted the enormous crack in the asphalt that was now filling with water, probably due to broken pipes. How would all of it ever be repaired? Crews were still working on the new span of the Bay Bridge after Loma Prieta caused a deck to fail in 1989. It would be months, years even before the city could mend from this massive quake.

  She caught sight of Trey and Derick near a mountain of fallen brick and hurried to catch up.

  Derick smiled at her, but his eyes were shadowed by dark smudges.

  “Rough night in the truck?” she said.

  He sighed. “I’m used to better accommodations, but iron man here did fine.”

  “I’ve slept in worse places.” Trey looked at Sage and she wondered just how dreadful she appeared at that moment.

  “Nice sweatshirt. Didn’t know you were a Giants fan.”

  “I’m not, but I can tell you all about the Dodgers. My dad and I used to catch every game we could.” She was glad to see his smile. “Shirlene loaned the sweatshirt to me. What are you two looking at?”

  “Somewhere under there,” Trey said, pointing to the pile of bricks that leaned against the building, “is the stage door. It would be the fastest way to get in, but that option isn’t going to play.”

  Sage bit back a groan.

  “So we wait to go through the front door when the police come back and hope the lobby hasn’t collapsed,” Derick said.

  “We could...” she said, then paused to swallow a shiver. “We could go back in through the grate, the way we got out.”

  Trey shook his head. “I checked that. The building has settled and there is no opening anymore. It’s pancaked.”

  She huffed. “So we just sit and wait and hope?”

  Derick looked uncertain. “I guess.”

  Sage watched Trey closely as his eyes flicked along the brick pile toward the back of the alley. “What? Do you have another idea?”

  He scrubbed a hand through his crew cut and Sage found herself amazed that he looked just as perfect as he had in the theater. The dust and the scratch on his cheek did not seem to take the slightest edge off his attractiveness. She knew it was a different story for herself. Her hair was disheveled and dirty and the sweatshirt enveloped her in a cloud of black fleece.

  Pay attention, why don’t you? She blinked.

  “Mr. Long, may I borrow your phone?” Trey said.

  “It’s Derick,” he said, handing it over. “Don’t know who you’ll be able to get hold of, but have at it. I’ve been going crazy texting Antonia and my wife, but no response from either one.”

  Trey squinted at the tiny buttons and Sage tried not to smile as he tapped the keys, his big fingers not cooperating until he finally managed to send a message.

  “Who are you texting?”

  “My brother. I don’t know if he was able to make it back. He knows some people who handle search-and-rescue dogs.”

  “That would be awesome to watch. Do you think he’ll be able to get here?” Derick’s eyes were hopeful.

  “If he receives the message, he’ll get here,” Trey said.

  If Trey’s brother had a small part of Trey’s ferocious determination, he’d make it. Sage felt only a measure of comfort. Help could come too late for Antonia. And maybe for Barbara.

  They heard someone yell from the direction of the deli, so they made their way back through the maze of debris and found Shirlene and Jerry speaking with two men, one of whom was Sergeant Rubio. He stood next to a man in black coveralls wearing an orange vest. Her heart sped up. Finally, help had arrived.

  Rubio divided his attention between Jerry and his receiver. “Okay. We can take an initial look around, but until we get a dog here, it’s a cursory search only.”

  Sage opened her mouth to protest, but Rubio silenced her with a look. “This is Dan Little. He’s a volunteer firefighter.” His voice hardened. “He’s got five kids of his own and I’m not going to risk his life on a what-if. Cursory search only and if things start to come down, we’re out. Got me?”

  The group nodded and Rubio and Little headed for the front entrance of the opera house, followed by Trey, Sage and Rosalind. Jerry and Shirlene came, too, Shirlene clutching Wally, who squirmed in her grasp.

  After another stern warning from Rubio to stay out of the way, he removed the tape from the doors and stepped over the threshold, flashlight beaming into the darkness.

  Sage could see only piles of plaster and some wood paneling that had fallen. She wanted to shout directions at the searchers and opened her mouth to holler in, but Trey shook his head. “They’ve got to listen.”

  She bit her lip and stayed quiet.

  Five minutes had passed and Sage was now pacing in opposite arcs from Rosalind, who also seemed unable to keep still.

  “How long...?” Her words were drowned out by a massive blast that made them all cover their faces. Billows of dust and smoke rose into the air.

  Sage coughed and spun toward the Imperial.

  EIGHT

  “Not there,” Trey said, stopping her. “It came from that way.”

  They looked in horror across the street, behind Jerry’s deli at the six-story office building as smoke began to drift through the fractured windows.

  Rubio and Little raced out of the opera house and stood for a moment, mesmerized. Rubio’s radio crackled to life and though Trey could not make out the words, he read the tension in the dispatcher’s voice. Even before Rubio said the words, Trey knew what was coming.

  “I’m sorry. We’ve got to go. We’ll be back when we can.” He charged away, Little right beside him.

  Trey made no move to stop him and neither did Sage. She must have seen the futility of arguing and he hoped she understood. During a disaster you had to look at the big picture. That’s why he hadn’t been able to stop when Luis went down. He’d had men—and a woman—to protect, and he’d needed to let the medic do his job and handle things. He’d tried to tell her that later, but she hadn’t wanted to listen. His mind drifted along with the wisps of smoke that showed clearer now as the sun lightened the sky.

  The sound of sirens cut through his thoughts.<
br />
  “Wait,” he heard Derick say. He snapped out of his reverie in time to see Sage stepping into the lobby, Derick trying to grab at her elbow to stop her.

  She shook him off and disappeared inside.

  Derick gaped. “That’s insane. Shouldn’t she at least have a hard hat or something?”

  Hard hat for a hard head. Trey scrambled inside to catch up. “Sage, this is dumb and you know it. You won’t help anyone plowing in here and getting hurt.”

  He wasn’t sure she’d even heard him as she pulled out a flashlight from her pocket and waved it around what used to be the lobby. Now the walls were crumbled, and the mural Antonia had sketched out was missing great chunks of brick from the carefully drawn design. She moved farther in and he strained his ears to listen for the sound of further collapse. Debris grated and crackled under their feet. Wally barked from outside.

  The light revealed the archway where guests would step into the theater. Sage made a choking sound. The passage was completely collapsed, impassable without the help of some sort of machinery.

  “We can’t get in,” she said.

  “Not that way.”

  “The back entrance is blocked as well.” She looked at him, eyes enormous. “We can’t get in and Antonia can’t get out.”

  He searched for something to say. “We don’t know that anybody’s in there anyway, Sage. Let’s go outside and talk about it.”

  She didn’t answer, but neither did she refuse as he led the way back out.

  Rosalind and Derick were waiting. “What did you see?” Rosalind demanded. “How bad is it?”

  “Pretty bad,” Trey confirmed. “It’s impassable.”

  Derick sighed. “Well, I’m half-relieved.”

  “How can you say that?” Sage snapped. “There might be people in there.”

  He held up a placating hand. “It’s highly unlikely. Antonia is too smart to stay in a collapsing opera house and we’re certain Fred left.”

  “If she was trapped she wouldn’t have a choice, now, would she, Derick?” Rosalind raised an eyebrow. “Have you been able to reach her to confirm your theory?”

  “No,” he said, “but the phones aren’t working now. In a few hours, service will be restored and I’m sure we’ll get a call from her. I...”

  The ground trembled under their feet. Chunks of the ornate cornice pieces tumbled to the sidewalk as they ran for cover.

  “Move farther away from the building,” Trey called, herding them all back across the street. By the time they reached the deli, the shaking had stopped.

  “Whew,” Shirlene said, stroking Wally, who had begun to tremble. “Just a small one. It’s okay.”

  They stood on the sidewalk. The sun rose behind the Imperial, ghostly against a fog-draped sky. Shirlene kept a tight hold on Wally, and she and Jerry headed into the deli. “We could all use some coffee, and Jerry’s got a camp stove,” she called. “I don’t want to be alone in my empty store with all this shaking. Creeps me out.”

  Derick pulled out his cell phone. “Maybe I can get a signal if I head up the street. Be right back.” He stopped and clasped Sage’s shoulder. “We’ll find out she’s okay. You’ll see I’m right.” He beamed her a practiced smile and walked away with Rosalind following, checking her own phone for a signal.

  Sage flopped into a chair in front of the deli and Trey pulled up one next to her.

  He waited patiently for her to say what was on her mind. It didn’t take long.

  “This is torture. How can we just sit here waiting for coffee when there is a life at stake?”

  “Doesn’t appear we have any options at this point.” His eyes wandered back to the building behind the Imperial, and he found his mind running through possible scenarios which he did not dare share with Sage.

  Jerry and Shirlene brought coffee in disposable cups, and thick slices of bread with butter and blueberry jam. Derick and Rosalind returned, grim-faced.

  “We got a signal for a moment, but then it died away.”

  Sage pulled out her own phone and checked it, too. The device indicated there was a signal, but when she tried to call, nothing happened.

  “Lines are jammed,” Trey said. “There are 800,000 people in this city and they’re all trying to call their families. You just have to wait.”

  Sage sniffed. “I’m no good at waiting.”

  He found himself smiling. “I know.”

  She shot him a hostile look that faded into a sheepish grin that she hid behind her coffee cup.

  “We did find out one thing,” Rosalind said, swallowing a mouthful of bread. “The apartment building explosion is taking up all the resources at the moment, so the streets are going to remain blocked, at least until nightfall.”

  “Looks like we’ll all be camping out here for a while,” Derick said. His tone was cheerful, but Trey thought his expression was less so.

  Rosalind shook her head. “I’m getting antsy. I have half a mind to try to get home on foot.”

  Derick grinned at her. “You want to be a real-life action star. Trust me, it’s a lot harder than it is on TV. There are no retakes.”

  Rosalind sighed. “If we don’t hear something soon, I’m going.”

  “My hero,” Derick said, his tone gently mocking.

  Rosalind’s eyes narrowed. “There doesn’t seem to be anything more we can do here. We don’t even know if there is anyone inside the Imperial, anyway.”

  Sage jerked and pulled her phone from her pocket. Trey saw her face go dead white as she clutched it.

  “Yes, we do,” she said, voice so low he almost missed it.

  Trey came close to her. “What is it?”

  “I got a text.” They crowded around and she turned the tiny screen to face them, holding it with both hands to still the trembling.

  Alive. Opra hse. Hlp me. A.

  Shocked silence fell over the group until Sage turned the phone around again and texted back. They stared at the tiny device, waiting for a return text.

  There was none.

  The minutes passed in agonizing slowness, but there was still no reply.

  “She’s alive,” Sage said. “Antonia is alive inside the Imperial.”

  “How can we get her out?” Derick said, eyes wide. “What can we do?”

  Again Trey’s gaze traveled to the building behind the opera house. Sage grabbed his hand, her fingers ice-cold.

  “You know a way, don’t you?”

  He wished for once that Sage Harrington could not delve into his thoughts quite so easily.

  Sage leapt to her feet. “You know a way in. Tell me right now.”

  Trey folded his arms across his chest. “It’s an idea, that’s all. There are a million reasons why it isn’t going to pan out, so don’t get excited.”

  She wasn’t listening to his cautions. The morning sun picked up the hope gleaming in her blue eyes. He found himself unable to look away, and when she reached for his arms he felt a tightening in his stomach as she held him there, imprisoned in her azure gaze. If she’d commanded, he could have resisted entirely. Instead, she entreated, her voice soft.

  “Please tell me what you’re thinking, Trey. Please.”

  He couched his words carefully, hoping she would not remove her hands from his body. “When we were underneath the stage, the other corridor, the one we didn’t take, was stacked with some boxes labeled Lamplighter. That’s the name of the hotel that’s right behind the theater, so...”

  “So you think they could share a corridor? There might be a way to get into the Imperial from the Lamplighter?”

  He wanted to shut down the tingling that her fingers awakened in his biceps. “As I said, it’s plenty iffy.”

  She moved closer, her warmth taking the chill away from the morning. “It
’s the best chance we have right now. Let’s go look.”

  He pulled away now. “That’s right, we look. We assess and weigh the risks.”

  She grinned and his stomach went sideways again. “Recon only. Got it.”

  Sage tried to keep from outpacing the others as they made their way past the ruins to the stone facade of the Lamplighter Hotel. The exterior showed signs of damage. The windows were boarded up and the doors secured. Jerry and Shirlene had returned to the deli and taken Wally with them, uneasy at leaving their own stores unattended.

  Trey banged on the front door and received no answer. They headed around the back, into a parking area empty except for a Dumpster and a stack of wooden pallets.

  Derick shouted and retreated a few steps as a small man wielding a baseball bat leaped out from behind the Dumpster. His bald head was damp, and the armpits of his Lamplighter T-shirt were sweat-soaked. Sage’s heart rocked in her chest, but Trey edged forward, both hands spread in front of him, posture relaxed. “Hey, man. Sorry to scare you. We’re not here for trouble.”

  The man gripped the bat. He spoke in Spanish-accented English. “Who are you?”

  Trey introduced them all and Sage added, “We think our friend is trapped in the Imperial and we wondered if we could get inside through the Lamplighter.”

  The man was still not totally convinced, but he lowered the bat to his shoulder. “Emiliano,” he said by way of greeting. “I’m the manager. My uncle owns the hotel. I thought you were here to loot the place.”

  “No, sir,” Sage said. “Please, can you tell us if there is a passageway from this hotel to the Imperial?”

  He rubbed at a scrape on his chin. “We don’t publicize things like that. There’s always kids snooping around looking to cause trouble and they can’t resist a tunnel. It’s like moths to flame.”