“Our car’s better for that,” Zane’s dad said. His name was Etana. That meant “solid,” or she thought so, and that was how he looked, too. Exactly like Zane. “It’s got four-wheel drive,” he added, “and a high clearance. Best take that.” He reached into his pocket and tossed the keys across the table, and Zane plucked them out of the air.
“Can I come?” George asked. “It might be scary for Forrest, but it’s not as scary with two.”
Skylar hesitated, and Scarlett said, “I want to come too. I want to see what it looks like outside.”
“Me too,” Finlay said. “We’ll probably never be in an earthquake again, so this is our chance to see.”
“It’s not a TV program,” Skylar said. “You realize that, right? That people died?”
“Well, obviously,” Scarlett said. “But maybe it helps us cope to know. Aren’t teachers always saying that children need to be given enough information to understand their world? Well, I want to understand my world, and my world is this.”
Finlay, though, didn’t answer right away. He hesitated, then said, “It didn’t seem exactly real last night. The earthquake seemed real, but it was too dark to really see thetsunami waves, and then when we were outside, it was so dark that we couldn’t see anything. So maybe Scarlett’s right. Maybe we need to understand our world. As we’re older than the others and more mature.”
“I don’t want to go,” Olive said. “I saw on Granddad’s phone, and I saw yesterday, too. I don’t want to see any more. Especially if there are dead bodies.”
“I don’t want to see dead bodies either,” Duncan said. “Or maybe I do, but I also don’t.”
“Fine,” Scarlett said. “Finlay and I will go.”
“Pity, then,” Zane said, “that the car’s only got five seats. We’ll take George with us to keep Forrest company. You lot will be seeing the damage soon enough.”
“That’s not fair,” Scarlett said, predictably. “We’re the oldest!”
“Fair or not,” Zane said, “that’s the decision. Let’s get you back to your mum, Forrest. She’ll be waiting for you.”
Those ten kilometers took them thirty minutes. Zane took a zig-zagging route, veering every time they came to a street blocked by rubble or, worse, by muddy sand.
“Liquefaction,” Zane said, as they passed a little group wielding spades, digging out. “What a mess.”
The streetlights were still out, and cars were thin on the ground, mostly creeping along, the same as last night. Drivers stopping at every light, waving each other through, their politeness exaggerated. Trying to make a reasonable world out of this. A world that made sense.
Skylar could have done the driving. She was glad all the same that she didn’t have to. Zane didn’t seem to need her help looking out for hazards, either, or any help from the GPS. Following his nose again, she guessed. It was impressive.
Did she spend the journey wondering how to talk to him about the night before? No. She spent it, more and more the closer they got, hoping fiercely that Forrest’s mum was safe. And that Fiona was there with her.
Please, please, let that mum not get such terrible news. Please let that not happen.
Praying didn’t help, and she knew it. Fiona would be … whatever Fiona was. She prayed anyway.
The apartment house was nothing flash. The concrete steps in front were cracked, whether from the earthquake or that way to begin with, she couldn’t tell. An older woman was outside, sweeping broken glass from the pavement. That was good, then. The place was probably habitable.
Harden up,she thought, as Zane found a carpark. How odd to be in the midst of all this disruption and destruction and still have to look for a carpark. She climbed out of the car, and Forrest and George clambered out after her. Zane came around the car, took her hand, and asked, “Ready?” As if he knew her dread, or as if he felt it. But then, he’d had a daughter nearly killed. He probablydidfeel it.
“Ready,” she said.
Forrest said, “I don’t have a key. My sister has the key.”
“OK, then,” Skylar said, keeping it cheerful, “we’ll ring the bell. Number 9, eh. Here we are.”
A press of the right button, and after a long, long minute, a woman’s voice. “Hello?” Scratchy. Fearful.
“Hi, mum!” Forrest called out. “It’s me!”
A catch of breath. A sob. And the loud buzz of the lock releasing.
The apartment was on the second floor, and again, they were climbing stairs. They hadn’t even got to the first floor when the woman came flying down the stairs. Still in her house shoes, her hair tangled, her face white. She grabbed Forrest, held him tight, rocked side to side with him the wayshe’d have done when he was a baby. And cried. “Oh, my God,” she said. “Oh, thank God. Thank God.”
They stood there on the stairs and waited. Forrest emerged at last, rumpled and probably confused, and the woman seemed to take them in for the first time. “What happened?” she asked. “Whathappened?”
