Dana Mentink - Shock Wave

Only a few yards to go before they reached the exit. Trey picked up the pace. She felt the corded muscles of his lower back tense as he moved, lithe as a tiger through the dark. Some part of her was grateful that he put enough stock in her theory to follow along.

Why was he helping? For old times’ sake? Guilt about what happened to Luis? No, he was on another mission, to deliver her from a dangerous situation, just like he’d tried so hard to do in Afghanistan, like he would try to do for any hapless stranger he happened to find wandering around. He was a machine, duty above all.

Their feet stirred up puffs of dust that whirled and eddied through the stale air.

From above came the loud squeal of wood. Trey grabbed her arm so tightly she almost cried out. They looked wildly up into the darkness, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise, which grew louder and louder along with a whoosh of air that stirred the curtains behind them.

Trey yelled something and shoved her hard, sending her flying into the recesses of the stage. His body landed next to hers as a half dozen wood crates smashed to the floor around them, splinters of wood hurtling through the air. The flashlight sailed out of her hand and clattered to the floor, dousing the light.

Billows of dust whirled past her face, making her cough. She covered her mouth to keep out the filth as she sat up.

“What...what just happened?”

Trey was already on his feet, crouched low, peering into the darkness. “Boxes fell from the top of the pile. You hurt?”

“No.” She clambered to her feet. “We were almost crushed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

She saw a dark trickle of blood on his arm. “You’re bleeding.”

He didn’t even look at the wound, but continued to stare upward. “Scratched.”

“Those boxes fell at just the right moment, didn’t they?” she said.

“Or the wrong one.”

Something in his voice alarmed her. “Do you think the earthquake destabilized them?”

“I think they had help.” His gaze was still riveted to the catwalk above them.

“Trey,” she said, her voice low. “Who would do that? Fred? Somebody else? What are you thinking?”

He shook his head and pulled her back into the covering folds of the curtain. “I’m thinking that we need to leave this theater right now.”

“I’m not going without Antonia.”

He straightened to his full height, a good head and a half taller. “She’s probably gone already.”

“I need to know for sure.”

“No, you don’t. You need to get out of here.”

“Is that an order, Captain?”

“A strong suggestion,” he muttered.

“And if I don’t comply?”

“Then I will help you to do that.” His eyes glittered in the darkness.

“You’re not army anymore.”

“No, ma’am. Just a carpenter, but I will see you to the exit, one way or another.”

“If I don’t cooperate, what do you intend to do about it?” She fired off the challenge, her gut tightening at the look that rose in his face.

He stood, feet slightly apart, hands loose at his sides. Though he kept his voice just above a whisper, every syllable was clear. “Sage, you need to leave this theater for your own safety. If I have to carry you out kicking and screaming, I am prepared for that contingency.”

She heard the hardened resolution in his quiet voice. Dimples and charming drawl aside, she knew he would not hesitate, and she was no match for his size and strength. She would lose this battle.

But not the war.

“Fine. I guess I have no choice if you’re going to be a bully.”

He did not smile. “Great. Let’s move.”

Was he right that someone had helped those boxes to fall on them? The same person who’d found her trapped and left her? Swallowing a surge of fear, she crept behind him back the way they had come. Trey’s body was wire-taut as he led them toward the stage door.

She peered past the proscenium arch into the rows of empty chairs. A flicker caught her eye.

“Trey,” she whispered. “I just saw a light. Out there.” She pointed.

“Might be Fred or maybe Derick has arrived,” he whispered back.

“No, I’m sure it’s Antonia.” She called out. “Antonia? Is that you?” No answer. “Maybe she didn’t hear me. I’m going to go check.”

“No, Sage.”

There was warning in his voice, but she didn’t listen. Instead she darted ahead of him toward the stairs.

He was after her in a moment.

She pushed against the metal door as he put a hand on her from behind.

Her knees trembled, a shaking that spread throughout her body.

Confused, she pushed the door harder but the shuddering kept on, rippling through her body until she could hardly stand.

Fighting for footing, she looked at Trey, unable to see his face clearly.

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, the realization hit.

Earthquake.

The floor bucked and rolled under her feet like a live thing.

Trey went down on his back as the wood gave way.

“Get out,” he yelled. “Sage, get out now.”

Suddenly he was snatched from her view.

She tried to reach out to him, but she was being tumbled about as the surface continued to undulate. The sound of distressed wood shrieked and groaned around her. That’s when her mind put it together. This was the moment every Californian held in the back of their mind. The reality that was heightened by the 1989 Loma Prieta quake and captured in faded black-and-white photos from 1906.

This was the day scientists and doomsday broadcasters had predicted would come.

She heard the theater rattle around her, the beams coming loose from their supports, bits of plaster beginning to fracture and fall.

This was no ordinary earthquake.

This was the big one.

A sudden upheaval under her feet tossed her onto her back and she found herself staring at the ceiling, sections of which were breaking away, loosening huge chunks of plaster. She desperately tried to get her feet under her, to find some stability against the violent movement.

Somewhere she heard a scream. Antonia?

No time to process.

She wanted to call out for Trey, but the words froze in her throat as roar of sound enveloped her.

Like a scene from a bad movie, she watched uncomprehendingly as the floor of the stage ripped in half, sections parting wide like the jaws of a hungry beast.

A black chasm of splintered wood gaped in front of her and Sage rolled into the abyss, darkness swallowing her up.

FOUR

Trey tried to figure out which direction was up. His body filled with one desperate need. Get to your feet, soldier. Try as he might, he could not find a point of reference in the tumbling chaos. The thunderous shaking unleashed a tsunami of sound as wood and pieces of the old opera house ripped loose and smacked into him, bashing his shoulders and slicing into his neck. He threw up his hands to shield his head as his body finally made contact with what he assumed was the floor.

Another twenty seconds of tooth-rattling vibrations and the tumult was suddenly over. He sat up, loosening a pile of grit that showered off of him. He blinked hard. It was completely dark and for a moment he wondered if he had been knocked blind. Gradually, a weak filtering of light from somewhere up above made him realize that first off, he was not blind and second, wherever he’d fallen there would no longer be the easy comfort of a light switch.

“Sage?” he called. Trey had not felt fear since his return from the war zone, but he felt it now, thick and weighty, as he received no answer. He looked around, trying to get his bearings. He’d fallen through the stage, into this cavernous black space. Far above he could now make out the underside of the wood floor, ripped and jagged, showing through the clouds of dust that billowed everywhere. Perhaps she had not fallen with him. Maybe she was still up there. “Sage,” he shouted again. The quiet was undisturbed.