Lethal Balance: Sons of the Survivalist: 2

by Cherise Sinclair

  As the entire coffee shop burst into laughter, Caz politely offered her an arm and walked with her out of the shop. Grinning, Gabe followed.

  On the sidewalk, JJ leaned against Caz. Honestly, she’d been in shootouts that’d left her less shaken. “I take it you two heard everything?”

  His warm hand curved over the back of her neck, massaging the knotted muscles. “Sí. Very nicely handled. You faced the enemy, disarmed her, and accepted her surrender with grace.”

  “Agreed,” Gabe said. “See you at the station.”

  She stared after him as he crossed the street.

  A man and woman came out of the coffee shop. The woman smiled. “Officer.”

  “Ma’am.” The man nodded politely.

  JJ exhaled slowly. Well, okay then.

  “Let’s go.” Caz nodded toward the municipal building. “We both have work to do. For our town.”

  Yes.

  A few minutes later, after collecting a long warm kiss from Caz in the clinic, she joined Gabe in the station.

  “Officer. Look.” With a wide smile, he viciously ripped her resignation into tiny pieces. “Don’t do it again.”

  “No, sir. Of course not, sir.” Shaking her head, she settled down at her desk. Both of Mako’s sons were a bit crazy.

  As she started on her paperwork, she heard the chief making a phone call. “Hey, Bull, JJ’s staying. Yes, officially as of today. Sorry, bro. I win the pot.”

  Win the pot? Catching on, she stomped into the chief’s office and scowled at him. “You made bets?”

  “Heard that, did you?” Damned if he didn’t laugh. “We were all betting you’d see reason.”

  See reason, my ass. “More like you bet on how successful your brother’s persuasive talents would be.”

  “Ah, well, we all know he’s effective. The bet was for how quickly he could work his magic.”

  JJ eyed reports and papers piled on the desk…and wondered how the papers would look strewn all over the floor.

  “Whoa.” He held up his hands and said hastily, “Welcome to the family, JJ. We’re all very pleased with our brother’s choice.”

  So…instead of being mad, she walked out of his office in a haze of happiness. Because the truth was clear in his voice.

  Mako’s sons were pleased she and Caz would be together.

  Two hours later, she parked the patrol car in front of the station and started a quick foot patrol down Main Street.

  As she walked past the coffee shop, Sarah saw her. With one hand on her pregnant belly, Sarah picked up a coffee cup and waggled it in invitation.

  Someone wanted to hash over the scene with Giselle.

  And God, she totally needed coffee. Laughing, JJ nodded and turned toward the door.

  Boom.

  As the entire street shook crazily, JJ staggered and fell to her knees. It felt like she was on a roller coaster—only the entire world was on the same ride. With a yell, she grabbed the streetlight and clung with all her might.

  The upheaval didn’t stop.

  Over the roaring came the sounds of screaming, of breaking glass, thuds of things falling, and shouting. A car alarm went off.

  And it lasted…and lasted…and lasted.

  “Nooo!” Regan cowered under her school desk as everything shook. Roaring filled the room, like a train roaring outside. The building was groaning and screeching. Everyone was screaming. The lights went off.

  As the floor bucked, dropping and rising, and the desk banged on her shoulder, she screamed, too.

  In the windows, the blinds swung like crazy. As her desk slid across the room, she hung onto it, sliding too, slamming into other desks and chairs. Books, backpacks, and crayons were flung to the floor. With a shriek of metal, the window frame twisted and glass flew everywhere.

  Then…it stopped.

  Regan choked on sobs, her throat sore, and her face wet. Papá, I want Papá. Papá and JJ.

  Why didn’t Mrs. Wilner tell them what to do?

  No, the teacher wasn’t even in here. She’d gone to the admin building to get more poster paper for the art project. She’d be back in a second. She would.

  Sunlight came through the window, dust sparkling in the air. Most of the kids were crying, but some got to their feet.

  Regan pulled in a breath and tried to stand.

  What was that sound?

  A low grinding roar came from outside, getting louder and louder. Snapping and scraping and creaking… Something smashed into their one-room building from the side—and Regan went flying. She hit the floor hard, and pain blasted across her side.

  It hurt so bad.

  As she curled into a ball, the walls and ceiling shrieked and moved. One corner crumbled inward. Stuff scraped past the broken windows, flinging rocks, dirt, snow, and tree branches inside. And everything, even the building, was moving.

  Regan clung to a desk, feeling the room grind over the ground outside and then tilt upward like a block ready to roll downhill. As the ceiling buckled inward, rocks and snow buried the building and covered the windows. The room went black.

  The screaming of the children went on and on.

  Earthquake. Another earthquake. Dear God.

  Knees throbbing from landing on cement, JJ used the streetlight to regain her feet. The quake was done. Hopefully.

  JJ spun toward the coffee shop.

  Sarah. Pregnant.

  Through the shattered window, she saw Uriah reach his wife and help her to her feet. Glass was everywhere, and Sarah was bleeding, but alert. Alive.

  “Take her to the clinic, Uriah,” JJ shouted, and he lifted a hand in acknowledgement.

  She turned in a circle. Devastation everywhere. Broken windows, fallen trees, signs, power lines. Previously parked cars were scattered across the street, but the snow banks had kept the vehicles from hitting the stores. There was buckling on the road and sidewalks.

  Where to start? Caz, Gabe, the town.

  Regan.

  Her priorities and her heart agreed. She called to Uriah, “Tell Caz I’m checking on the school.”

  “Yes!” Uriah shouted back. He and Sarah’s girl was in kindergarten. “Please. Now!”

  JJ dashed for the patrol car.

  The short drive was a nightmare. She fishtailed around a downed tree, bumped across the warping in the road, skidded to a stop…and stared at the nightmare scene.

  What had been a circle of portable schoolrooms was a moonscape. A torrential mass of snow, rocks, and trees had torn loose from the slope above and plunged downhill.

  The buildings were gone.

  “No.” Anguish filled her. She jumped out of the car. “No!”

  Wait. Downslope and to the left were battered buildings—three classrooms and the bigger administration building. They’d been shoved off their foundations and away from the fan-shaped slide. Four buildings total. Where was the fifth?

  From the rooms, children poured out, tripping and falling on the uneven ground. Small children. Older children. None were Regan’s age. No, no, no.

  Almost unheard under the grinding and groaning noise of the biggest part of the slide came sounds. Yelling, screaming. So very faint. From within the slide itself?

  She yanked out her phone. There was no service. She tried her radio—no answer from dispatch. From Regina. It would take time to pull things together.

  She had no time.

  The principal limped out, his dangling left arm obviously broken. With his other arm, he assisted a young teacher. Blood covered her shoulder. Two older children were helping Mr. Hayes. Like chicks around a hen, the littlest children surrounded an overweight, older woman who was half-dragging a groggy younger woman away from the slide. The last teacher emerged, blood streaming from her head. She staggered as she tried to count the children around her.

  No help. None of them could help her. Dammit.

  JJ called to the principal, “Jones, get your students out of this area. Keep the kids with you—and get me help. One classroom
is buried, but I can hear them. Get help!”

  “Buried.” He stumbled as he stared at the devastation then shook his head. Straightening, he started snapping orders. Two of the older children were sent off together, racing toward town as he mustered the rest and counted heads. After a few questions, he headed back into the admin building with two middle-schoolers. More staff must still be in there.

  JJ hesitated and shook her head. They’d have to handle it. She had her own job to do.

  Mouth dry, she moved closer to the slide, searching for the missing portable classroom. Too very, very portable. The rocks and trees groaned, and a separate, small slide started on the far side.

  As the noisy children and adults headed toward downtown, she could hear the faint screaming again. From the biggest part of the slide. The kids weren’t dead. God help them, they weren’t dead. Regan, hang in there.

  Fighting back panic, JJ moved toward the area where the hill used to drop away. The slope had been filled with the debris.

  Where was the yelling the loudest?

  She crouched, pulled her flashlight from her duty belt, and pointed it at the waist-high mass. There. Beneath a tangle of trees, snow, and rocks, the light reflected off metal and glass. The building must be crumbled up like tinfoil. But the children were wailing.

  How could they still be alive? She moved the flashlight back and forth and saw a massive fallen western hemlock. The trunk was propping up all the torn-up trees, rocks, and snow. The classroom was somewhere beneath it.

  A rumble sounded as another aftershock hit. The slide moved a few inches, and the screaming increased.

  Terror ran up JJ’s spine. If the slide let loose, the tree holding the overlying mass would be dislodged—and the portable would flatten like a pancake. She couldn’t wait. With the disasters in town, help might not arrive in time.

  She could see part of the classroom. Could she get to it? The snarled jumble of trees, snow, and rocks had created a lightless hole, a kind of tunnel. There was no guarantee she could reach the building.

  No choice.

  Moving the patrol car, she backed it to the closest spot and gathered gear.

  She’d have to crawl under the mess and around whatever might be in the way. What if the doors or windows were blocked? How could she get into the building? Chainsaw.

  There would be injured. Emergency kit.

  Might need to drag someone out. Blanket.

  She might get turned around in the darkness. Guide rope. Hands shaking from fear and adrenaline, she tied a rope to the car’s tow bar and walked to the place she’d enter.

  Kneeling, she shone the light down into the dark opening and cringed at the nightmarish tunnel-like path to the classroom. Branches protruded along the sides and down from the top. Jagged edges poked upward. It would be like crawling through a bramble patch of trees.

  It might not be big enough to squeeze through. She could see one horrendously tight spot that might require squirming rather than crawling. If she got stuck… The jacket and duty belt had to go. After shucking off her jacket, she locked it and her duty belt in the patrol car.

  The free end of the rope went around her wrist. Oh, God, she’d always been slightly claustrophobic. Breathe. No choice. She crawled into the terrifying hole. From over her head, snow and dirt trickled down. There were gaps in the tangled limbs beneath her. Don’t even think about it collapsing. She moved forward a foot. Another. She pulled the rope along with her. It would be a guide for the children.

  Or a locator for everyone’s bodies, including hers.

  Every time the mass over her head, beneath her, or around her groaned with a low shuddering rumble, she froze. The high voice in her head shrieked: Go back, go back. Wait for help. Don’t be stupid.

  She went on.

  The space narrowed. Branches caught at her clothing, ripped her hair. Her heart pounded. Fear-sweat soaked her uniform shirt.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Failure is not falling down but refusing to get up. ~ Chinese proverb

  * * *

  Regan woke to screams and…darkness. A nightmare of darkness. Why was the floor crooked? Kids were yelling, crying, screaming. Kids. School. That had been an earthquake. The building had moved.

  Panic filled her so full she couldn’t breathe. She had to get out. She rose and toppled over, falling into a chair, a desk. Sharp things ripped into her hands and knees. She couldn’t see.

  Sobbing and little screams escaped her. No. She wasn’t a baby. But there wasn’t enough air, and she couldn’t see. Gasping, she stopped.

  In her head, she could hear Papá. He’d talked about getting lost. “Fear makes you stupid. Stop and think, mija, before you act.”

  I’m lost, Papá. I need you. Holding really still, she drew in a small breath then a bigger one.

  And…she saw a tiny hint of light that flickered, and maybe that was a window, so her coat might still be hanging by the door. Cuz she always used the loop on the neckband to go over the hook.

  The floor was tilted like a mountain. She crawled up the slant, banging on the desks, bumping into another kid who screamed. Broken glass sliced her hands, her knees—sharp, burning pain. Owwwwww.

  Tears poured down her cheeks, but she kept going.

  “SEALs don’t quit,” Bull said when he talked about him and Gabe in training. He told her most guys rang a bell to say they couldn’t hack it. The ones who didn’t quit got to be SEALs.

  “Medics don’t give up,” Papá said when she’d asked him about a scar on his arm. He got shot carrying a soldier away from the fighting.

  “Men might have more muscles, but women are stronger in other ways,” JJ said. “We do what needs to be done—and we don’t quit.”

  Crying from pain and fear, Regan kept crawling.

  She found the wall by running into it, and her head exploded with pain. “Fuck!”

  Everything hurt. As she felt along the wall, her sliced-up hands burned. That was the door. Carefully, she stood. Coats were scattered on the floor, some still on hooks. Hardly breathing, she felt each one until she found the puffy one with a furry hood. Hers. And there in the pocket was her flashlight from the Halloween parade.

  After the snowstorm, Papá had put in new batteries. Would it work? Holding her breath, she turned it on.

  Everyone went silent—and she could hear the groaning and creaking of the room itself. Her hand shook so hard the light zigzagged around the room.

  Her breathing stopped. Across the room, the ceiling hung down, and that side of the room had scrunched inward. The busted, sagging windows there showed only darkness. Stones and snow trickled in.

  She turned. Behind her, the tiny window in the door was broken, and she could see only more rocks and snow outside. But she’d seen a light outside, right? Where? The window past the door was completely blocked by a huge tree trunk jammed against it.

  Heart hammering, she put the flashlight in her mouth and crawled to the last window. More branches filled the opening. But…did she hear something? A shout from outside?

  One of the kids started to cry, another one was screaming.

  Too much noise. “Be quiet—I need to—”

  They were all screaming, whining, crying. She wanted to sit down and cry, too.

  But she was part of Mako’s family, and Mako wouldn’t give up. His family wouldn’t. Papá would come. He’d said he would always come for her.

  She fought for control. No crying. Head pressed to the window frame, she listened. Something? A voice? The noise inside drowned it out.

  Uncle Hawk’s voice sounded in her head, telling her what to do. She sucked in air like he’d said, into her chest, into her stomach, and her shout came out, fierce and loud. “Shut. Up.”

  They did.

  “There might be someone out there. Keep quiet. All of you.” She tried to stick her head out the window and couldn’t. Too many branches. So she yelled, “Help!”

  Someone called back, “Coming. Stay put.” That voice
—that was JJ!

  Tears streamed down Regan’s face. “We’re here.”

  A light appeared. JJ had a flashlight. It moved closer.

  “JJ. I’m here, JJ. I’m here.” Her breathing was all wonky, like she’d landed on her belly or something.

  “That a girl.” JJ sounded normal. The same way she did at breakfast. Or playing cards. “The windows are blocked. I’m going to fire up the chainsaw and cut a hole. So you all need to move away from the window area. Can you do that?”

  “Okay. Okay.” Everything in Regan wanted JJ in here now. Not later. Now, now, now. Her hands were shaking even harder.

  JJ’d told them what to do, but the kids crowded around the window—right where they shouldn’t be. “Move back.”

  No one budged, just fought to get closer to the window.

  She had to be Uncle Hawk. She pointed the flashlight at the other side of the room. Pull in air. Short words. “Move. There.” No one moved. She shoved more air down, went for a deep Bull voice. “Now.”

  The kids staggered, fell, and moved downward to the other wall.

  “C’mon.” Delaney took Regan’s hand.

  Ignoring the pain, Regan gripped tight, and they slid and lurched after the others.

  “Okay, JJ. We’re away,” Regan yelled.

  “Atta-girl.” A second later, there was the sound of tapping, and then a chainsaw roared. About hip-high, a blade appeared and cut a long line toward the floor. JJ tapped on the wall again and cut down another side. Across the top. The bottom. The chainsaw stopped. JJ kicked, and there was an opening.

  After shoving the chainsaw through the hole, JJ crawled in, slow and careful, with a flashlight in one hand.

  As she stood up, everybody staggered uphill to her, crying and trying to touch her, to hold on. Regan, too.

  “Easy, easy.” JJ patted shoulders and stroked backs.

  “All right now. Her voice changed, and she was really good at Uncle Hawk’s command voice. “Listen. Up.”

  Silence.

  “Sit down right where you are.” She waited until they did. “How many children were in this room today?”