The Changing Earth Series (Book 1): Day After Disaster

by Hathaway, Sara F.

  “I used to have a lot of friends down there and the Lord didn’t save them,” Erika said with a quivering voice. “Actually, two of my very best friends and their daughter were probably down there.”

  “Lots of people died down there, Erika. When the quake hit us, everything was rattling like a freight train was coming right through the house. Then the house started coming down. Henry was still tinkering outside, and he came running in the door. We hid in the wine cellar. All the bottles were shaking, but they stayed put and we made it. When we opened the door, the whole house was gone. Trees that had stood for 180 years were shaken from the ground. It was like the mountain pushed upwards. The roads, everything was broken, except for the barn. Henry says it has something to do with how the foundation was laid, but I don’t know about those types of things. I tend to think that it was a miracle, or maybe the will of our Lord kept the barn standing. Other houses were swallowed whole or covered in dirt ejecting from the mountain. Now this barn is our sanctuary. Our neighbors are scared to death. We used to go every couple of days to the lagoon to look for survivors and meet with neighbors, but now only Henry goes.” Carol was rambling. She was just happy to discuss life with another individual.

  “Have you been able to get any news?” Erika wondered.

  “The TV, radio, computer, nothing works,” Carol replied. “One of the neighbors has an emergency radio. He got through for the first few days. He was told the earthquake was felt across the whole globe and there has been significant continental-plate shifting. The polar ice caps were affected, but no one knew the estimation of that damage yet. Then one day the chatter just ended. No one has been able to get in contact with the outside world since,” Carol explained, her brow furrowed with concern.

  Erika and Carol were still staring out the window while they were talking. Far off in the distance the cloud from the eruption could still be seen. “That cloud may come this way if the wind shifts. Hopefully, our luck will hold,” Carol said, rapidly changing the subject. “I guess all we can do is pray.” Turning to leave the room, she continued, “Dinner is just about ready, and I bet you could use a rest. Why don’t you go sit at the table while I get dinner served and call that man in from his tinkering?” Carol was already walking into the kitchen.

  Erika followed her and sat down delicately on a chair at the table. It had a nice soft cushion, so Erika’s burns didn’t sting too badly. She sighed in a moment of contentment. After calling down the stairs to Henry, Carol hummed as she worked around the kitchen. The roast made Erika’s mouth water as Carol took it out of the oven and pulled off the lid. Carol proceeded to neatly set the table. Erika was so hungry, and the meat smelled so good, it felt like forever before she heard Henry’s feet coming up the stairs.

  “Well, well, still on the move?” Henry bellowed as he reached the top of the stairs.

  “Now just leave her alone and sit down, you big moose.” Carol countered in Erika’s defense.

  “Yes, I’m still up, and the smell of Carol’s wonderful dinner is keeping me wide-awake,” Erika replied in sheer anticipation of the feast as Henry sat down next to her.

  “Well, that wonderful cooking has kept me going for a lot of years. I’m sure you’ll feel as good as new in no time,” Henry chuckled.

  “I hope so.” Erika said with a far-off look in her eyes.

  “You’ll see them soon enough,” Henry assured her.

  Carol served dinner and Erika went to dig right in, but Carol stopped her.

  “I know you are hungry, Erika, but we must give thanks to the Lord for providing us with a bountiful meal in these uncertain times. Plus, it’s the Fourth of July and I think our country could really use a special prayer right about now,” Carol explained.

  Erika withdrew her hand, and folded it with the other. Then she bowed her head and waited for Henry to finish the blessing. Erika’s prayers went out to her family. She asked the Lord to give her enough strength to make it home to them. When Henry was done they dug in, and Erika ate like never before. The meat was perfectly seasoned, and Erika delighted in the big chunks her body was finally ready to process. The vegetables were cooked exactly how Erika liked them, a balance of soft and crunchy. When she packed every corner of her belly full, she sat back in her chair. Looking up, she noticed Henry and Carol watching her.

  “You must be feeling better. I haven’t seen anyone eat that much since my son was sixteen,” Henry said, chuckling at her with a giant smile on his face.

  “Now, Henry, you leave her be. She needed it,” Carol countered again.

  Bouncing up from his chair, Henry declared, “I’ve been saving something for a special occasion, and there may be no better time than the present,”

  He hopped quickly down the stairs. Erika heard the door that was under the stairs open and close.

  “I wonder where he is off to,” Carol questioned. “Oh well, I better get these dishes done. We don’t want the ants coming in for our leftovers.”

  “Let me help you,” Erika insisted and got up to help. Her scabbed skin pulled painfully, and she winced a little.

  “You just relax, I got it,” Carol replied.

  “No, I insist, Carol. You’ve done so much for me already. I’ll feel horrible if I can’t make it up to you,” Erika pleaded.

  “Just don’t overdo it. You’re just like my daughter, Christy. She joined the Marines at eighteen and stayed for life, always so strong with an unquenchable sense of duty. She never had any kids, but has worked hard for our country.” Carol was just making small talk as she washed the dishes in a big basin. Erika cleared the table then began to dry the dishes that Carol was washing. “Now my son, Harold, on the other hand, was always such a lover. He liked hugs and was such a good baby. He has three kids of his own, now. His oldest is a girl named Jen, Kim is the middle child, and his son, Rob, is the youngest.”

  “Do you know if they survived? Where did they live?” Erika asked.

  “No, I don’t know,” Carol answered with a quiver in her voice. “Hopefully the Lord is protecting them. They lived in Colfax. It took Henry four days just to get to Auburn and back, so who knows how long it would take them to get here,” Carol explained.

  “Yeah, and who knows how long it will take me to get home,” Erika reflected.

  “Just have faith, honey. You’ve made it this far and that is much farther than most. Everyone will get where they need to be in time,” Carol replied reassuringly.

  “Are you two up here bumming each other out?” Henry questioned, eavesdropping from the stairway. He thought often of his son and hoped that Harold had the same determination to get home as this young lady in front of him did. But now was not the time to think of the many troubles that were plaguing them. “This is supposed to be a celebration,” he continued, holding up a bottle of King James III Cognac. “Here’s the surprise. Now, let me help you get those dishes put away and we’ll crack this bad boy open.”

  “Henry, you devil,” Carol said with a twinkle in her eyes.

  They all worked together to finish up the dishes. Sitting at the table, Henry opened the bottle and poured them all a glass. Erika took a sip of the potent spirits. She had never been a big lover of alcohol, and this was extremely strong, but strangely smooth as well. She drank down the first glass and held her glass out for more.

  “Now, we can’t drink it all,” Henry said as he was filling her glass. “I’m saving at least half of this bottle for when Harold gets here with Betsy and the kids.” He almost kicked himself for bringing the kids up again and quickly said, “Anyway, like I said, this is a celebration, how about some tunes while we drink?”

  Henry reached for a case holding a fiddle. Listening to him play a happy tune, Erika drank the spirits and her pain began to melt away. After a while their glasses were empty and Henry put down the fiddle to refill them.

  “Now that we are all feeling better, let’s hear that story of yours, little lady.” Henry was full of anticipation.

  “Before sh
e starts, why don’t we go down onto the porch to enjoy some air? It just feels wrong to sit inside on the Fourth of July with no fireworks blasting away down in the city.” Carol stood up and went to get the lantern in the corner so the three of them could bring it along. She was moving with more grace and ease. The alcohol was probably having a pain-relieving effect on her too, Erika thought.

  “Sounds like a wonderful idea to me, darling,” he said, pushing back his chair.

  When the three of them got out to the porch, Erika knew that Carol had the right idea. It was so fresh outside. Erika inhaled deeply, savoring the moment, but there was a smell in the evening air. Living in California, she knew it immediately, it was the smell of a wildfire.

  “Carol, it smells like a fire but there was no smoke today. Was there a fire?” Erika wondered.

  “I don’t really know, Erika. After the quake there were days when the smoke hung thick for long periods of time. It would clear and then come back. Without the TV we have no idea where it came from, but this is California in the summer, and with all that has happened I bet some big wildfires burned in more than one place,” Carol answered honestly.

  “Hmmmm. . .” Erika pondered. She couldn’t even begin to consider all the possibilities.

  Henry returned from checking the outside perimeter around the barn. Erika noticed him carrying a rifle. He kept it close as he sat down in his chair.

  “There you guys go, bringing our celebration down again,” Henry commented, but his face was furrowed with concern. He heard a noise and left to go check it out. “You guys sit tight,” Henry insisted, getting back up again.

  “Is everything okay?” Erika wondered, watching him go.

  “I’m sure it is. Henry just wants to be certain,” Carol replied.

  Erika pulled a smoke out of her pack and lit it. Carol and Erika sat in silence, each preoccupied with their own thoughts.

  “You know,” Erika said while twirling her glass, so the liquid made a little whirlpool, “I once saw a shot of this cognac sell for $100.”

  “Oh yes, I believe it. We were just kids when we bought this bottle and it just about broke the bank. Henry never opened it, though, and he’s been saving it for a lot of years. He always said we’ll know when the time has come to have a glass,” Carol answered.

  “It’s not so bad, but I could have never paid $100 for a shot. It better get me drunk for a week at that rate,” Erika laughed.

  “Some people like to show how important they are by paying way too much for good alcohol,” Carol jested back.

  “Yeah, I guess all that doesn’t really matter now, huh?” Erika said, staring out into the darkness. She noticed how dark the world seemed without the lights of mankind.

  “No, I guess not. Maybe all the rich people are holed up in rich-person sanctuary. All day long they sit in their comfy bunker, sipping cognac and eating caviar.” Carol was laughing out loud as she said this.

  “I guess I’m in rich-person sanctuary,” Henry rumbled as he came back in, “because I’m surrounded by beautiful women, sipping cognac and eating better than crummy old caviar.”

  “Henry, you are just full of the devil tonight. I’ll have to sleep with one eye open.” Carol giggled.

  “You better, woman,” Henry replied flirtatiously.

  They all laughed. It was nice to laugh out loud with friends again. It seemed like it had been years since Erika had partaken in this banter. She’d never realized that one day it would be so precious. It seemed to relieve her stress and give her hope.

  Erika had begun to slur her words slightly and was having fun goofing around. She was doing a fine job of forgetting the recent past, and was not looking forward to retelling the story of her horrible experience in the cell, as she had begun to call it. Henry could see this but wanted the story anyway. Now was a perfect time for the telling. The senses had been dulled and he knew her emotions would not affect her as much now.

  “You better get used to telling your story because you may have been the only one to survive. Many people will want to know how you survived the flooding of the Sacramento Valley,” Henry said matter-of-factly while staring Erika directly in the eyes.

  Erika looked up, startled. How can he read my mind so well? she wondered. Am I that transparent? She wanted to escape the memories, but she knew that he was right. She would have to tell and retell the story until one day it would become legend, the legend of the girl who survived a toxic flood because of cellophane and duct tape. Oh boy, what a legacy, Erika chuckled to herself.

  But Henry knew that Erika was a very special individual. Not just strong, but deep in spirit and in possession of a very big heart. If she was going to get home, she would need all of this strength. There was no time to be weak. Erika would have to face the reality of this situation. She would have to face what she had gone through, and the bleak situation she was now facing. Henry knew it and would take every opportunity to destroy her weaknesses and prepare her to harness all the strength she would need in the future.

  Chapter 3

  “So, let’s hear the story.” Henry was looking at her again, his fierce brown eyes piercing hers.

  Erika began, “I live in Georgetown with my family. My husband, Vince, and my son, Dexter. The day of the quake I dropped Dexter and my dog, Ripper, off at my mom’s so I could go to work. I don’t usually work nights, but I was covering for a friend. Driving away from them that day, I remember looking back in the rear-view mirror and smiling at them. That was the last time I saw them.” Erika paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “I called Vince on my cell. He was on his way home and that was the last time I talked to him.”

  “After that, I drove down to work at El Primero. It’s a new restaurant in Sacramento. They built it in this beautiful old Victorian home. The house was built in the 1800s and it was beautifully maintained. My boss bought it and turned it into a restaurant. He wanted to bring Mexican food into the fine dining spotlight. I must admit that the chefs produced some gourmet delicacies. Its popularity was just starting to take off.

  “The house was sort of creepy and the employees told a lot of ghost stories about the families that used to live there. Sometime during the Cold War, a paranoid homeowner built a bomb shelter underneath the area that became the restaurant’s kitchen. The bomb shelter was virtually unchanged since it was built and rather than sealing it shut, my boss decided to use it as a storage area instead. It wasn’t long until the employees started utilizing it as a break room as well.

  “The only way into the shelter was through a heavy door that sealed air tight when shut. I hated the sound of that door slamming behind me. The stairway was tight and lined with shelving filled with restaurant supplies. At the bottom the room opened up into an area that was originally meant to be living quarters for nuclear survivors. My boss had it strategically stacked with plastic water jugs for the coolers and additional shelving for more storage. There was a table with a few chairs around it for workers taking a break and a huge oak rack, containing the expensive wines that were specially chosen to accompany the dishes.

  “Halfway through my shift, this girl I work with, Casey, came in and asked if I would grab a ‘bottle of our best Merlot’ for this guy that was a regular asshole.” Erika stopped for a minute, realizing she had just sworn in front of Carol. She felt like she had just said the ‘F’ word in front of her grandma and apologized, “Pardon my French, Carol, but he really was a jerk.”

  “Don’t worry, Erika, just don’t stop now.” Carol was more irritated about the break in the story rather than the cuss word.

  “Okay, where was I? Oh, yeah, so I went down to the basement and as I was grabbing the bottle, the quake started. I bent my legs to maintain my balance, but the wine rack started rocking back and forth. I couldn’t dodge it, and it fell smack on top of me.

  “The incredible weight of the wood held me to the floor. There was glass everywhere and in the dark, I didn’t know how badly I was hurt but my left arm and leg throbbe
d horribly.

  “I tried as hard as I could to force the wine rack off me, but I couldn’t budge it. I started panicking. I screamed as loud as I could. I shouted and wailed but no one heard me. My throat was dry and scratchy, and my body ached. Desperate for help, I stared up at the heavily sealed door, realizing that no one could hear me no matter how loud I yelled. It was useless.

  “At first I figured I would wait for someone to find me. I thought the people up above would notice I was missing in no time. While I waited for help the pain began to eat into every fiber of my body. I tried to think about something else, but my mind was in a panic. The dark and quiet made it even harder to block out the pain so I talked to myself a lot. I wondered why no one had come yet and I imagined the guy upstairs grumbling about his wine. I didn’t know what time it was or how much time had passed. I thought about Vince coming home late from work and prayed he was with Dexter when the quake hit.

  “I wanted to call him and let him know that I was alive and needed help. Through the darkness I envisioned my cell phone over in my green bag, sitting on the shelf, waiting for me. It was so close, and I knew if he was there, he would help lift the load that seemed to be turning me into a pancake on the cold cement floor.

  “Fading in and out of reality, I waited, but when the aftershocks started occurring it ground the oak rack into every bone of my body. The heavy rack shifted and pressed harder and harder. I felt like the herbs between a mortar and pestle, but these herbs were being marinated in Sauvignon Blanc and White Zinfandel.

  “I was so tired of waiting. I had to find out what the hell was going on. I figured they had to be looking for me by now. Then I started thinking: what if no one knew I was down there? I was going to have to get myself out from under that wine rack. Through a temper tantrum filled with cussing, I tried as hard as I could to escape, but it was no use. I needed help.

  “The rant of emotions seemed to give me a renewed strength, though. With a fierce determination, I decided, no matter what, I had to find a way to free myself. The aftershocks had shifted the weight of the rack slightly, and I found I could barely recoil my arms enough to give another desperate heave on the rack. With all my effort, I finally lifted the oak a tiny bit but that was all I could do. It was so heavy, I let go quickly and it fell back on my bruised body again.