Jill Sorenson: Aftershock

“Watch out,” she yelled, as if he could avoid the danger.

More vehicles careened off the top section, raining on the traffic below. The sound of crashing metal rang in her ears, accompanied by a low, ominous rumble. A tow truck landed on a minivan, crushing the inhabitants. Its gas tank exploded in a giant ball of fire.

People were dying. Right before her eyes.

Joe held the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. Through his window, she watched a sports car hit the guardrail and flip in the air. She looked to her right, anticipating an impact on her side of the ambulance.

Then the road shifted, sending several nearby cars spinning off the edge. A second later, the entire freeway just...collapsed. With a stomach-curling groan, the middle section fell away. It buckled in half, folding across the lower levels and blocking the lanes. Vehicles smashed into each other, meeting a wall of concrete head-on.

The ambulance slid sideways and landed at the bottom of a pileup with a bone-jarring crash. Her head hit the window, cracking the glass. The seat belt caught hard against her right shoulder, and the vehicle’s twin air bags deployed. Rather than a soft cushion, the safety device felt like a punch in the face.

She tasted blood and saw a blur of black lines, like the end of a film reel.

The air bags deflated quickly. Joe called her name, nudging her shoulder. His voice sounded sluggish to her ears, but she knew the situation was dire. With some difficulty, she opened her eyes and tried to focus.

It was dark. The smell of gasoline and fire overwhelmed her senses. Suppressing a gag, she blinked to clear her vision.

When she saw what was coming, she wished she hadn’t.

The ambulance was trapped at the base of a large slab of concrete amidst a pile of other cars. Through Joe’s window, she watched a large black SUV teeter at the top of the structure, directly above them.

There was no time to get out of the way, no hope to reverse gravity.

“Joe,” she cried out, her throat raw.

But it was too late. The juggernaut rocketed toward them, smashing into the driver’s side. Again, Lauren’s seat belt slammed against her chest. Joe was struck full force, pinned behind the steering wheel. His door was crushed by the SUV’s front grille. Blood erupted from his lips and his eyes bulged wide with pain. He slumped over, his gaze going blank as he exhaled a ragged breath.

Lauren reached out to him, choking back a sob. Safety glass crumbled inward, clinging to her uniform shirt. Having responded to a number of fatal vehicle accidents, she knew that Joe had been killed on impact. His chest wasn’t moving, and he smelled like death. With trembling fingers, she felt for the pulse in his neck.

Nothing.

Her life didn’t flash before her eyes, but his did. Joe was a beloved husband and father. His daughter was less than a year old. Just the other day, he’d shown Lauren a picture of the baby with the koalas at the zoo.

A helpless whimper escaped her as the earth continued to rumble. Debris rained down around them. The air was thick with gas fumes. She knew she couldn’t stay in the ambulance. If she passed out here, she would die.

“Daddy,” she croaked, though he’d been gone five years now.

At some point, the sound of grinding metal and falling concrete quieted. The shaking stopped.

Lauren didn’t know what to do next. Normally crash victims were advised to stay put, and it was difficult to see through the cloud of smoke. She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t concentrate. Her heart thumped weakly in her chest.

The hula girl on the dash was gone, having toppled into places unknown, and the clock wasn’t working. She checked her watch. It read 8:09. Less than ten minutes had passed since the earthquake started.

The temptation to cower in the passenger seat was hard to resist. She was afraid to face the destruction outside. Paramedics were trained to exercise caution and not risk their lives. Maybe all the people in the surrounding vehicles were dead.

There were no screams for help.

What got her moving wasn’t her professional duty, or her moral code, or any urgent need to save others. It was the odor of burning flesh. She could accept dying of smoke inhalation, which would certainly come first, but the thought of her hair and skin going up in flames was too horrifying to fathom.

Along with the will to survive, she found a spark of logic. The ambulance was equipped with oxygen and fire extinguishers. Releasing her seat belt, she climbed over Joe’s slumped body, into the back of the van. Pieces of equipment were hanging askew and first-aid supplies littered the space. After a moment of disorientation, she found the oxygen masks. Donning one, she sucked in a lungful of clean air.

She felt stronger. She took another breath.

There. That was better.

With a clearer head, but a heavy heart, she looked for the fire extinguisher. It had become dislodged and rolled across the floor. She also located her paramedic bag, which would be useful in the event that she found other survivors. As soon as she grasped the bag’s handle, the earth started shaking again.

Oh God.

There was a moment of weightlessness. She felt like Alice in Wonderland, falling through the looking glass. What was up went down and what was down went up. The world seemed to be hurtling toward a steep precipice. Rather than regaining equilibrium, it toppled end over end, into chaos.

A massive wall of concrete crashed down, halving the ambulance violently. Joe, and the entire cab, was gone. Crushed.

Had Lauren stayed in her seat, she’d have been obliterated. Like Joe.

The quake ended a moment later, but she couldn’t control the trembling of her own body. Back-to-back near-death experiences were more than she could handle. She curled up in the fetal position and covered her head with her arms, waiting to die.

The blow she was expecting didn’t come. No more chunks of debris hit the ambulance. Against all odds, she was alive.

And...she wasn’t alone.

A man shouted in the distance. “Hello! Can anyone hear me?”

Lauren tore the oxygen mask off her face and sat up, her pulse racing. Was she imagining things?

He spoke again. “Does anyone need help?”

To her amazement, he sounded strong. Good lung capacity. Instead of asking for assistance, he was offering it.

This man was unharmed.

Lauren took another quick breath from the oxygen tank and scrambled to her feet. The back door of the ambulance had an emergency hand release. She pulled the lever and climbed out onto the uneven pavement.

Through the haze of ash and debris, she studied her surroundings. It was worse than she’d imagined. Twisted metal, chunks of concrete and pieces of cars were scattered across the dark cavern. Several of the vehicles had no front ends, like the ambulance. Others had been bisected lengthwise. Some were upside down, wheels still spinning.

The man called out again.

“Here,” she yelled, framing her mouth with her hands and turning toward his voice. “Over here!”

He walked out of the smoke like an apparition. Lauren had never been so relieved to see another human being in her life. Not only did he sound healthy, he looked it. His dusty T-shirt clung to a broad, well-muscled chest. He was wearing dark jeans and scuffed work boots. As he got closer, she assessed his height at six feet and his weight at two hundred. Even with ashes in his hair and dirt on his face, he was handsome.

“You’re an EMT,” he said, seeming amazed to see her in one piece.

“Paramedic.”

“Even better.” His gaze moved past her, to the contents of the overturned ambulance. Perhaps he knew that emergency personnel usually traveled in teams, but he didn’t ask where her partner was.