The Journal: Fault Line (The Journal Book 5)

by Deborah D. Moore

  The older woman screamed.

  “Somebody help him!” another woman yelled.

  Christine crawled away, cutting her palms on bits of glass, adding droplets of blood to the already red smeared floor. A few feet away, she finally stood on wobbly legs. The shaking stopped and everything went silent, except for the first woman sobbing.

  “We need to get out of this building before it collapses,” Christine said, making her way to the door as another tremor shook the building.

  “What about Jerry?” someone asked.

  “Jerry is already dead,” Christine responded. “Let’s get out of here and find someone in charge. They’ll know what to do about… him.” She glanced at the body and shivered.

  In the hallway, she pounded on the elevator call buttons.

  “We can’t take the elevator. What if the power goes out while we’re in there and we get stuck? They say to use the stairs only,” said a woman whose nametag read “Cheryl.”

  Christine turned to the stairs with the lit exit sign over it. She pushed, but the door wouldn’t move. “Give me a hand,” she said, and two of the younger women leaned on the door and together they opened the door only a foot.

  “Anyone have a mirror?” Cheryl asked. “Maybe we can see what’s blocking the door.”

  “What good will that do? We still can’t get out!” sobbed someone else.

  Christine looked around and saw another exit sign. “I’m going to try another door. I’ll be right back.”

  The door opened with ease and she signed in relief, until she stepped into the stairwell to see all the rubble blocking their way down. The other women crowded the door behind her. “We aren’t getting out this way either. Maybe we should just wait for someone to come and rescue us. I’m sure it won’t be long. FEMA always shows up.” Christine said confidently.

  “FEMA? You’ve got to be kidding,” Cheryl said. “Haven’t you been watching the news? They are all in New York mopping up after that hurricane. They won’t be here for days, if not weeks, and I, for one, am not waiting that long.”

  Christine went back to the conference room and sat down, scowling at Cheryl. Cheryl was right of course, though Christine was not about to admit that. She pulled out her cellphone to call 911 only to find all the circuits were busy.

  “I’m not staying in here with a dead body,” someone said, muffling a sob. Christine looked over at the windows, realizing she had forgotten all about Jerry. She stood quickly, knocking her purse on the floor, spilling the contents. She picked up her keycard.

  “My room is upstairs. Maybe we can get through some of the rubble going up and at least we’ll have some comfort while we wait,” she said. “Besides, I need to change my shoes. These boots are killing my feet!”

  The five women, led by Cheryl, entered the stairwell cautiously.

  “We better prop this door open in case there are any more aftershocks, just to make sure we can get back in if we need to,” Cheryl suggested. They pushed the heavy door flat against the wall and moved a couple of fallen bricks against it.

  Everyone peered over the railing at the blocked exit.

  “That whole wall caved in,” someone whispered. “I hope we don’t have to climb over all that.”

  The stairwell was lit only by the lights over the doorways, the dim shadow barely enough to see by as they ascended to the third floor, avoiding the debris on the steps. Cheryl pulled open the third floor door and the same two younger ones piled the few chunks of concrete to hold it open.

  Christine stepped into empty hallway, the soft carpeting muffling their steps. She checked the numbers on the first two doors and turned the other way toward her room.

  “Where is everyone?” Cheryl asked.

  “When we checked in yesterday the desk clerk said we should have the floor to ourselves because they were at only ten percent capacity. I guess that’s because it’s the middle of the week, and middle of construction,” Christine informed her. “Here we are,” she said when they got to the end of the long, quiet hall. She slid her key card in and pushed the door open just as the hall lights flickered and went out. The room was bathed in the diffused sunlight coming from around the edges of the blackout drapes. Christine inched her way to the lone window and shoved the drapes aside, flooding the place with brightness.

  “That’s better,” the older woman said, nervously sitting on the edge of the bed. “I don’t like it too dark.”

  Swell, thought Christine, my flashlight is in the car. She looked around the messy room and thought again that Lois was a real slob. Christine had made her bed as soon as she got up. Lois, on the other hand, had left the sheets in a pile in the middle of the bed and her clothes were tossed onto the only two chairs.

  “Um, sorry about the mess. Lois got up late and obviously didn’t pick up after herself,” she apologized, then wondered why she was making excuses for that slob.

  She picked up the in-house phone, surprised she actually got a dial tone. Dialing the operator she waited and waited. “No answer at the front desk.”

  “So what are we going to do now?” someone asked once they had all used the bathroom. Christine had already changed into her new walking shoes, tossing the impractical boots on a chair.

  “Let’s find another stairway and see if we can make it down,” Cheryl suggested. “And we better prop open this door too, just in case.”

  “Why? I still have the keycard,” Christine protested.

  Cheryl raised her eyebrows. “It won’t work without electricity. We can get out; we just can’t get back in.”

  “Oh.”

  They followed the long, silent hall around two turns before they came to another exit sign, indicating stairs. Christine pushed on the door and it gave way easily.

  “It sure is dark in there,” she said nervously. Once again, they propped the door open with a few pieces of fallen wall board, allowing a modicum of light to shine in.

  Cheryl pulled a small flashlight out of the large purse she had hung crosswise over her shoulders, casting a narrow beam of weak light down the stairs.

  “These look fairly clear. So we don’t wear ourselves out needlessly, why don’t two of us go to the second floor and see if the rest of the stairs are open, then the rest can follow?” Cheryl suggested, already descending the first few steps, Christine right behind her. They stepped over a few pieces of broken wall and made it to the second floor without any problems. After opening and securing that door for additional light, they started on the next set of steps that would take them to the main floor and hopefully the lobby.

  ***

  Cheryl took a deep breath and pushed on the long panic bar, opening the door into a wide vestibule near the unmanned front desk.

  “Yes!” they both shouted, giving each other a high five.

  “Let’s go get the others,” Christine said.

  Cheryl turned to her, handing over the tiny flashlight. “You go get them. I’m outta here!”

  “What? Wait! I thought this was a joint effort?” Christine looked aghast at the middle-aged woman.

  “I’ve got two kids and a husband at home that I know are worried sick about me. I’m not going back now that I’m free,” Cheryl said slyly. “You’re more than capable. Besides, you still need to go back for your things in your room.” Cheryl darted toward the lobby doors, her dark ponytail swinging.

  “What a conniving bitch!” Christine groaned. She took a moment to look around the vacant lobby. People were still milling around outside like zombies. She headed toward the bar wondering if Lois was still there. She pushed open the etched glass doors to an empty room, and then let them close again, wondering where her co-worker was.

  She decided she may as well go get the other women. She stopped at the registration desk looking for something to write on; someone had to know about Jerry. After jotting a quick note, she propped it up on the keyboard and spotted another, bigger flashlight and took it.

  The walk back up the stairs seemed longer an
d more difficult. At the second floor, Christine stopped to catch her breath and to make sure the door was still secured open.

  ***

  “Oh, there you are. We were beginning to think you had forgotten about us,” the older woman said. “Where’s Cheryl? Is she alright?”

  “Cheryl is fine, I guess. As soon as we got to the first floor she bailed.”

  “Bailed?”

  “Took off, as in left, went home,” Christine said angrily. “Here’s a flashlight to use. There’s very little rubble on the steps, please be careful anyway. The second floor door is open for light and so is the one at the bottom.”

  “You’re not coming with us, dear?”

  “I’ll be right behind you. I have to go back to my room to get my things, and see if I can find Lois,” Christine said.

  “Well, you be careful. We’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

  “No, you should get outside, it’s probably safer. I’ll see you in ten minutes, promise.” She smiled at the older woman’s concern. She watched as the light bobbed along in the darkness then disappeared.

  ***

  It only took Christine a few minutes to get back to her room, feeling stupid she hadn’t known about the keycard needing electricity to work. She dragged her toiletries off the sink and into a bag, shoving it into her open suitcase that she had laid on the bed. Glancing at the pile of sheets on Lois’ bed, she wondered again where her co-worker was. That was something to worry about later. Right now she had to get her stuff and shopping bags and get out of there.

  With the boots and shoes out of their boxes, all of the new purchases fit into one of the larger shopping bags, which Christine attached to the handle of the wheeled suitcase. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was already 1:00pm. She looped her purse over her shoulder and with her hands now full of her belongings, stepped into the hallway just as the second big aftershock hit. She bumped against the wall and knocked the fire extinguisher off its mount. Losing her balance, she hit her head on the metal cylinder when she fell and lost consciousness.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lois had just finished her first beer and was tackling the mountain of macaroni salad on her plate. She knew she was overweight and she didn’t really care. Well, part of her cared. One shrink said her overeating was her way of loving herself. Lois knew, when she got down to the nitty gritty of it, it was simple: she loved to eat. That’s all, she loved food. She had just polished off the macaroni when the first shock hit. The building groaned and shuddered and she slid on the bar stool.

  “What the hell was that?” she asked the bartender.

  “Don’t ask me,” the young man said nervously. “Here’s a beer on the house. I’m going to the front desk to see what’s going on.”

  Free food and free beer, Lois thought it couldn’t get any better. She had planned on nursing that first beer when she realized Christine had slipped out on her and she would have to pay for her own drink. Lois had left her wallet in the room intentionally, only taking her key card, hoping to sucker Christine into paying. Of course it wasn’t Christine paying for anything, it was her rich daddy who traveled a lot, so Lois didn’t feel guilty. She had to put the beer on their room tab, and she knew the office would make her pay for it when they got back. Oh, well.

  Lois ignored the second rumble. When the full force of the quake hit, she ended up on the floor with a broken bottle and a chipped tooth. She sat there for a moment, dazed. Her first instinct was to run. The next was to get to their room, get her stuff, and get out of there. She scrambled to her feet, ignoring the throb on her lip where the bottle had crashed into her mouth, and headed to the elevators.

  “Don’t use the elevator!” a voice behind her said. It was the bartender returning to his post. “That was an earthquake. Management says we’re evacuating the building. The shuttle will take us out of here and to somewhere safe. We leave here in fifteen minutes.” He eyed her. “If you have really have to go up, use the stairs.” He pushed through the etched glass doors and left her standing there.

  The training session attendees were spilling out of the Coral Room, some carrying their half-eaten sandwiches and running for the lobby doors leading outside. That gave Lois an idea. She waited until most of them had rushed past her, then she went to the buffet and made another sandwich—one for the road.

  Lois pulled open the heavy door that hid the stairway and stepped inside. The only light was the glow of the exit sign over the door. With her left hand on the railing and the sandwich clutched tightly in her right, she took a large bite and started to ascend.

  In the dim light, Lois couldn’t see the large piece of wall hanging precariously above her until it was too late. When the thin mesh backing gave way, a ton of concrete fell and crushed most of Lois’ body. She died instantly, with a mouthful of salami and cheese on rye with extra mayo.

  ***

  Christine opened her eyes, momentarily confused. The dark Berber carpeting that was leaving imprints on her cheek had the nasty chemical smell of new carpet and she sat up to distance herself from the noxious odor.

  “Well, shit. That felt like another earthquake or an aftershock or something,” she muttered, standing on wobbly legs. She decided she’d better get out of there while she still could. She wheeled her suitcase around the fallen fire extinguisher to the exit sign and pushed on the door. It didn’t move. Panic surged into her throat and she whimpered. While she didn’t have many phobias, being trapped was at the top of that short list.

  She tried not to panic, remembering there were other stairs. They couldn’t all be blocked. She headed around the dark corner to the next exit. When that door wouldn’t open either she did panic and ran to the next one, nearest the elevator and above the conference room. Thankfully it was already ajar and she squeezed herself through with her belongings and descended down to the second level. Was this feeling of being trapped what her father had felt when he was a mile underground in a mine during cave in? She didn’t like it, not one bit.

  Out of desperation she pulled on the next door, even knowing the last time it only moved a foot. Surprisingly, the door moved easily. Elated, Christine stopped in the gloom, grabbed two chunks of concrete, and shoved them against the floor like a doorstop. She slipped through the opening back into the hallway and took a deep breath. The conference room door was still open like they had left it. Moving quickly, she opened that door wider and scanned the room, avoiding looking at Jerry’s inert body and the congealing puddle of blood around him. Her eyes settled on the refreshment table. She grabbed several bottles of water, tucking one into her purse, one went into her shopping bag, and two more went into her suitcase.

  Christine checked the exit door to be sure the opening was still wide enough for her to get back through, pulling her luggage behind her. She turned on the flashlight Cheryl had given her. The tiny beam of light cut through the darkness and heavy dust to reveal more concrete on the stairs, but not total blockage. She thought the second shock must have shifted some of the debris.

  She stepped into and onto the debris.

  ***

  “You can do this,” Christine said aloud to give herself confidence, thankful she had changed into the comfortable walking shoes. She balanced on a slab of concrete and inched her way forward, pulling the case behind her. The shopping bag shifted and threw her off balance, and she landed hard on her knees, tearing her new leggings. A cloud of concrete dust emerged from the debris pile, sending a plume into her nose and throat, causing a coughing and sneezing fit.

  “Well that’s not going to work,” she grunted. She slipped her briefcase into the center of the shopping bag to protect the leather exterior and tied the handles of the large plastic bag together, tossing the new clothes down the stairwell ahead of her. She closed the pull handle on her suitcase and shoved it forward, using the cloth exterior as a shield for her hands.

  The descent was painfully slow; too slow for Christine.

  She flung the case a few feet ahead, following
it cautiously. After twenty minutes of creeping forward inch by inch, she arrived on the first floor to find some wreckage blocking the way out.

  Christine started to pick up a piece to move it out of her way, and then realized the door opened outward into the lobby. She turned the flashlight back to light the pile of rubble. She pulled the suitcase down and reached for the plastic bag. When she moved the heavy bag, the sequined hot pink material encasing Lois’ leg was exposed. Christine jerked backward, gasping, and dropped the flashlight. She retrieved the flashlight, still breathing hard. Focusing on the hot pink leggings, Christine aimed the waning light around the area, seeing the huge slab on top of her co-worker for the first time.

  “Oh, Lois,” she muttered with a heartfelt sob. Resolutely, she picked up her things and pushed the heavy door open, emerging into the lobby. The flood of light was momentarily blinding and the door swung shut behind her.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The crowd of people outside the lobby doors had disappeared, leaving Christine to wonder where they went or what else might be going on. She was completely unaware of the rescue shuttle she had missed. She pushed on the big glass door, then stopped and went back to the front desk.

  Finding the note about Jerry undisturbed, she added Lois’ name, location, description, and the phone number for the dental office, thinking there wasn’t anything else she could do.