Shaken

by Kariss Lynch

  “This can’t be happening.” Kaylan glanced around her, trying to move beneath the structure of Rhonda’s home. She was pinned. Through the cracks in the structure she could see dust smothering the air and survey pieces of the street.

  This was her own personal horror film. She wished she could hit rewind, anything to change the events of the past fifteen minutes. She reached for her phone, her hands brushing denim. The screen lit up but was cracked beyond use. The already sporadic cell towers were probably down all over the city, anyway.

  “Sarah Beth?” Kaylan shouted, the sound shattering the stillness in Rhonda’s house. She tried to move again while straining to hear a reply. Taking a deep breath, she fought off the numbness to deal with the rising panic building in her gut. Her bed had shielded her from the structural cave-in, cocooning her in a deceptive bubble of safety. Had Sarah Beth made it under her bed before the ceiling collapsed? Panic threatened to overwhelm her, and she took several deep breaths that immediately induced a coughing fit in the dusty air. Usually a safe place, would Rhonda’s home become her tomb?

  “Okay, Kaylan, one thing at a time.” She wiggled her toes and then worked the motions up the rest of her body, testing her legs, stretching them as long and wide as the space would allow. She took deep breaths, gently pushing on her chest, checking for any blood or busted ribs. The body did funny things when in shock, and she needed to know if she had any broken bones. Nothing would keep her from clawing out of her cave to find her friend.

  “Lots of bruises, a few cuts and abrasions, and a nasty bump on the head. Not bad, considering.” Kaylan let her medical training take over as she finished her self-check. Her body was banged up, but she would live. She focused on her surroundings, and her panic slowly built. Time to get out. Claustrophobia and fear overwhelmed her.

  “Help! Is anybody out there? Help me, please. I’m stuck.” Kaylan shouted toward the street as she began to wiggle, now testing the strength of her prison. The cement chunks around her head shifted ever so slightly, and Kaylan prayed the weight resting on the bed wouldn’t cause it to collapse.

  “Sarah Beth? Please answer me. Sarah Beth!” She braced her feet against the wall and used the angle to throw the rest of her weight against the cement pieces near her head. The seconds slid by, and the crack and grind of boulders rolling past one another rang through the house. After minutes, she pulled her willowy frame through the tiny hole created by shifting two large chunks. As she pulled herself to a sitting position, blood roared in her head, and the room spun.

  The room shook again, and more cement fell nearby. She dove for cover but couldn’t slither back under the bunk. Curling into a ball as close to the bed frame as possible, Kaylan braced herself for a rogue rock to land on her, ending her life.

  After what seemed like hours, the earth stilled. Kaylan could hardly believe only seconds had passed, each one excruciating, every aftershock determined to break even more bodies. Kaylan couldn’t consider how many lay dead in the street. What would she find if she escaped these walls? Panic tore through her and ran rampant, threatening to rip from her sore throat.

  Outside, screaming began again in earnest as more structures caved in and people were crushed underneath. Kaylan could only imagine the horror. Her own nightmare confined her to this room, no larger than a hotel room in the States. A pebble skittered past her head, and she uncovered her face. Dust overwhelmed her, and the taste of blood permeated her mouth. She slipped the neck of her T-shirt over her nose and breathed deeply, welcoming the salty odor of sweat and tears. It smelled of life and struggle.

  The faintest whisper of sound emerged from the shambles.

  “Sarah Beth?”

  “Kayles.” This time she heard it.

  “I’m coming. Hang on.” Kaylan shimmied under the roof, held up by the cement from the walls that had settled before it. Wire and metal protruded from the blocks, and Kaylan did her best to maneuver around them.

  She froze at a cough nearby. Dust obscured her view.

  “Kayles, hurry.” The raspy voice turned Kaylan cold despite the humidity. Dust caked her arms, turning them whiter than normal. She shifted rock frantically and pulled herself onto a particularly large slab, the ceiling scraping her back as she slid through. Pain ripped through her leg, and Kaylan bit back a cry. She turned her neck to find a scarlet pool soaking the rock, a jagged metal rod protruding inches above the surface. Heat rushed to the area, and Kaylan stifled a gasp, tears unwittingly coursing down her cheeks.

  She lifted her leg as best she could and slid off the rock, landing in a heap on the glass and rock on the floor. Her face stung from the impact. Pulling herself to a sitting position, she squinted, studying her leg in the dusty fog. A six-inch gap on her thigh exposed muscle. Blood poured from the wound. Praise God it had missed her artery.

  Pain built, ripping through Kaylan’s body, threatening to paralyze her and send her into hysterics. She attempted to stop the flow with shaking hands.

  “Hang on, Bubbles, I’m coming. I promise,” Kaylan’s use of Sarah Beth’s childhood nickname elicited a weak laugh, pouring new adrenaline and hope into Kaylan’s system. Her palm now stained with a flow that could not be squelched, she glanced around for anything to use as a tourniquet. Clothes littered the room from the upended dresser, buried beneath the rubble.

  “Sarah Beth, for once, being messy is paying off.” Her favorite shirt lay wedged under a slab nearby. Tugging it loose with a rip, she fastened it above the gash and pulled it tight. The blood flow slowly tapered off.

  Her friend chuckled weakly in the dusky corner, and a hacking cough sounded like a gong in the room. Kaylan was at her friend’s side in seconds, pulling her leg behind her like a troublesome sack of potatoes.

  She froze. Full-blown panic seized her for the first time as she surveyed her friend.

  “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.”

  Curly bleach-blonde hair caked with drying blood and cement dust protruded beneath a section of roof that rested on Sarah Beth’s ribs. Her left leg lay lifeless next to her other leg, twisted at an odd angle and pinned beneath more concrete and rubble.

  Kaylan turned away, gagging. Her hand swiped angrily at her tears. She had to be strong. Sarah Beth had to be okay.

  “That was my first earthquake.” Sarah Beth’s lips were cracked and bleeding. Blood rolled down from one of the corners.

  “Me too.”

  “Rough day.” Sarah Beth wheezed, trying to smile. Kaylan brushed the pebbles and dust from her lashes and cheeks. She blinked slowly, squinting to discern Kaylan’s face hovering above her own.

  “Can’t breathe.”

  “I’ll see what I can do about that.” Kaylan examined the slab resting on her friend. It was wedged underneath debris from the wall piled onto the other twin bed. Sarah Beth had managed to roll onto the floor before getting pinned.

  Kaylan shoved against the cement, unable to gain much leverage in her hunched state on the floor. Smaller rock rested on the slab, and Kaylan swiped at the debris, desperate to remove any of the weight from her friend. As the rock shifted, the slab groaned, and the remainder of the ceiling shifted, filling the room with a loud crack.

  “Kayles, leave it alone. Please leave it alone.” Sarah Beth sobbed.

  “Just let me try, Sarah Beth.”

  “You can’t move it by yourself.”

  “Do you think you could push?” Tears filled Sarah Beth’s eyes. “I can’t feel anything. Everything is numb. Just . . . be here with me, Kayles. Tell me a story. Anything.”

  Kaylan swallowed hard, still examining the concrete pinning her friend. She would need help to move it, and even then, she wasn’t sure if she would be able to move Sarah Beth without hurting her further.

  “What would you like to hear?”

  “How we met.”

  Kaylan turned back to her friend and found her hand under the slab, entwining their fingers. She lay down next to her, cradling Sarah Beth’s head under her arm and stroking her tan
gled curls.

  “I like that one. Let’s see, we were in kindergarten, and it was our first day in Mrs. Zuckerman’s class. You were carrying your hot-pink Barbie lunch box and wearing a tie-dye shirt with your curly hair all over the place. Your blue eyes were so big, I thought you looked like a cartoon character. You wouldn’t stop talking, and I remember you had to pull your card the first day because you kept talking over Mrs. Zuckerman.”

  Sarah Beth’s laugh was weak, and she wrestled to talk. “You were in that little denim skirt with your boots and your hair pulled back in a ribbon, looking all cute and shy. You wouldn’t say one word. You were my goal for the day.”

  Kaylan laughed softly. The commotion seemed so distant now. She knew she should cry for help, but time with Sarah Beth was slipping away, and she wouldn’t leave her.

  “We were at recess, and I was sitting on the steps playing with bubbles. You came up and sat down with another bottle. You even popped some of mine.”

  “I just wanted to make you talk. And they were so pretty.”

  “We blew bubbles the whole hour, and you never stopped talking. You told me about your dog, Toto, and the names of all your Barbies. You told me about your brother, Tom, and how you had to share your room and be quiet while he took naps. But you were so excited to have a baby brother.” A smile tipped Sarah Beth’s lips upward, causing more blood to trickle.

  Kaylan swiped a tear from her cheek, dust caking its trail. “At the end of the hour you threw your arms around my neck and said, ‘You may not like me yet, but you’re gonna be my new best friend.’” Kaylan chuckled at the memory. “You never got rid of me after that. You’ve been my best friend ever since.”

  Sarah Beth’s head drooped to the side, and Kaylan rolled it back. “Bubbles, you have to stay awake. You have to. Stay with me.”

  “Bubbles. How did I get . . . Bubbles?” She wheezed.

  “When we were blowing bubbles and you wouldn’t stop talking, I thought you were like the bubbles, colorful, all over the place, happy, fun. I called you Bubbles that day for the first time, and you just said, ‘I like Bubbles. That name works for me.’” It stuck ever since.”

  “You were so serious when you said it. I made you laugh. We played the whole day. Then dance started.”

  Kaylan wiped away the blood, her own leg pounding. She tugged the T-shirt tighter. “Yes, we started dancing at the studio a couple months later and were Sugar Plum fairies in the December recital. You were so excited to wear pink.”

  “You never looked prettier.”

  “Are you trying to tell me I peaked in appearance at the age of five?”

  Sarah Beth’s laugh sounded like a bark, and she winced. “Well, you got all tall and gangly after that.”

  “Don’t be jealous just because your genes didn’t allow you to grow past five-three.”

  “We’re like David and Goliath.” She coughed. “But I still love ya, Kayles. Height and all.”

  “Love you too, Bubbles. I need to call for help. Hang on.”

  “Kayles, stay. I’m not going to . . . ”

  “I don’t want to hear it.” Kaylan cut off her own fears. “Someone will come. Rhonda knew we were here. If the clinic is still standing, she’ll come or send help.”

  Dust hovered in the small room, and darkness draped the broken capital. The night hours would make locating people in the rubble even more hazardous. Based on her experience in Haiti, she doubted anything had been organized yet to begin relief efforts, just desperate people searching for the living among the dead.

  Kaylan lit her phone and scanned the nearby walls for a gap to the outside. A crack large enough to stick her arm through winked back at her through a pile of cement blocks. She pulled her weight forward, wincing as her leg dragged across glass and sharp rock. She maneuvered her arm through the rock and began to yell, hoping someone from the street outside would hear over the screaming. She lit the phone, using it as a beacon.

  “Help! Two of us are alive in here. We need help. Can anyone hear me?” She waited, yelling every few minutes, but the chaos in the street prohibited any notice of the plight of two Americans in the midst of thousands of Haitians.

  “Help, someone’s hurt!” She turned the phone on again. If she couldn’t call anyone, at least it was useful as a flashlight. A small, sticky hand grabbed hers, causing her to yank back in fright.

  “Kay-lin hurt?” Creole followed, but the small fingers continued to grasp hers, tugging her arm and then pushing feebly on rock. “Kay-lin. Sophia.”

  “Sophia? Oh, thank You, God. Sophia, find Stevenson, Abraham, or Reuben. Tell Rhonda. We need help. Me and Sarah Beth.”

  “Yellow hair?”

  “Yes, Sarah Beth. Help, Sophia. Get help.” She used her limited Creole, and Sophia’s fingers slipped away. Kaylan moved her arm and peered out to the darkened street, hoping the little girl would bring the older boys. Her little legs kicked up more dust as she rounded the bend and vanished, taking Kaylan’s prayers and hope with her.

  She yelled for help a few more times, her voice growing hoarse. Water. They needed water. Where were the water bottles Sarah Beth had used that morning for Yanick? They had brought several back to the house.

  Her new mission poured adrenaline into her aching limbs. Loss of blood made her light-headed, but with no ability to stand, Kaylan hoped she wouldn’t pass out.

  Using the phone once more, she pointed it around the room. “Bubbles, do you remember where we put the water bottles?”

  “Under my bed. At foot.”

  Kaylan’s heart sank. Rock and pieces of the ceiling ensconced Sarah Beth’s bed. Nevertheless, she scooted past her friend and shoved with all her might, shifting a few rocks, careful not to dislodge any large pieces holding the remainder of the ceiling from crushing them.

  Her fingers brushed mud, and she knew the bottles had been crushed. She continued to feel around between two boulders, her fingers going numb as they came in contact with sharp rock.

  Crunch. A water bottle rolled beneath her fingers, lodged in an air pocket. She twisted it, careful to pull it through the hole intact. Her own mouth watered at the sight. Another crunch, and she pulled another bottle free. Miracles in her chaos.

  They would have to conserve them. She prayed Sophia would be back soon.

  “Sarah Beth, water. Thank the Lord you are so unorganized.”

  Sarah Beth coughed. Her chest rattled beneath the slab pinning her. “Bet you never thought you would say that.”

  Kaylan poured sips into Sarah Beth’s mouth. She coughed and gurgled the tepid liquid. Kaylan took a small sip and placed the bottles nearby. She lay back down and curled her body as close to the rock pinning Sarah Beth as she could. The earth continued to tremble. Kaylan grasped her friend’s limp, cold hand, recited stories of their childhood and graduation, and mentioned ideas for decorating Sarah Beth’s classroom. All delayed the inevitable story she would one day remember.

  Sarah Beth was hours away from meeting the Maker for whom she had sacrificed everything, and every reassurance to the contrary would be a lie, something Kaylan and Sarah Beth had sworn to never allow in their relationship. Kaylan’s faith mirrored Sarah Beth’s broken body.

  God, don’t take her. She just wanted to follow You. She’s the one who wanted to be here, not me. Take me. Kaylan’s heart fought against the words, but every fiber of her being had reached the breaking point.

  “Stay awake, Bubbles. Don’t leave me.” Kaylan felt as if she were back in kindergarten, but Sarah Beth would not be able to help her laugh her way through this.

  Darkness became their constant companion as the wailing and screams for help pierced the night.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ISN’T THERE A way to get there faster?” Micah’s agitation wore on Nick’s nerves. He had already come close to knocking Nick out over his seeming calmness toward the situation. Inside, Nick boiled. His strength in battle came from maintaining an outward calm. It allowed him to walk into deadly s
ituations focused and prepared. The attitude had only intensified since he’d become a believer, but a blow this personal was about to break his discipline.

  Their team had gathered in the living room during the course of the night. Senior Chief was assessing the resources being sent to Haiti and the possibility of temporarily allowing Nick and Micah to head down with the Marines to search for Kaylan. So far, the process was slow, hence Micah’s impatience.

  “Working on it, Bulldog. Calm down.”

  “It’s my sister, Hawk. Do you get that? My sister. And I can’t protect her.”

  “I understand, but being angry with me won’t solve anything.”

  “Do you understand? You don’t even have a family, and when you did, you didn’t appreciate them till they were gone.”

  Nick resisted the urge to hit Micah. As quickly as his anger rose, Micah’s shoulders hunched in defeat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. It isn’t your fault, and I know you loved your parents.”

  “Don’t worry about it, man.” Nick popped more chewing gum into his mouth and held the package out to Micah.

  “Does chewing that actually help?”

  “Menial task, minor motion, something familiar.” Nick shrugged. It was his vice.

  Micah popped a piece in his mouth and resumed his pacing, his eyes on the news. Nick crossed his arms and allowed the wall to take his weight. If Kaylan was alive, she wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. Neither would he. Coffee brewed in the kitchen, and the aroma stirred his senses, reminding him of the muddy coffee and long night watches in the Middle East. His senses were gearing up for battle, but it was a war he didn’t understand, with no enemy except the earth itself.

  Where was she?

  For the thousandth time, he tried her cell and heard the annoying tones of a busy signal. A few calls were coming into the news from Port-au-Prince. It didn’t look good. His team knew how to fight terrorists. How did one fight this? It was a mark of their closeness that the team had come to keep a silent vigil. Some of the guys kept Micah occupied by shooting darts. Micah’s aim was good, even in his panic. Dart after dart hit the bull’s-eye, and the other guys finally gave up.