Vancouver, West End
Twenty-four hours after the earthquake struck, Dixie Morgan lay pinned to the concrete floor under the pancaked building. Poisonous hairy spiders, as big as saucers, had punctured her nightmares. She had watched her body decay and turn into dust. Then sunshine burst through the darkness. She sat on the beach as Rowan and Michael, toddlers again, played in the sand. She reached out to touch them but they vanished as she woke to torment that wouldn’t stop.
How long have I been here?
Blackness and pain had been her only companions for so long she had lost all sense of time. She had finished the small water bottle from the pocket of her cycling top ages ago. Her stomach rumbled and dryness cemented her mouth shut. Is this hell? How long will I lie here in unrelenting pain and crippling loneliness? Am I going to die? Does anyone know where I am? Who will tell Rowan and Michael what happened to me? Will they ever know?
Another tremor shook the earth and the building above her shifted and moaned. A fresh layer of dust sifted over her. Her throat tightened and she braced herself for death. I love you my babies. Please forgive me.
When the noise stopped, she heard voices nearby. People spoke excitedly. A dog barked, once.
“We’ve got something over here,” a man called. He sounded close.
Dixie tried to call out but her voice was little more than a croak. Her mouth tasted sour. She forced herself up on her elbows and with one hand fished in the pocket of her cycling top. She opened her cell phone. As it came to life, a pale blue light illuminated her prison. I’m not blind. Relief flooded over her and her heart raced. All this time I’ve had this thin sliver between me and insanity. I’m a fool for not thinking of it sooner.
No service it read but she didn’t care. Thursday 4:18 PM. That simple knowledge eased her fear. I’ve been here for more than a day. Now help has arrived. I’m not going to die. A chortling sound rose in her throat. Laughter. Twisting her hand over her shoulder, she connected with the girder and tapped the phone against the exposed steel support. What was the code for SOS? Three short, three long, three short. What does a long tap sound like? She wasn’t sure so she tapped and held it on the three middle strikes.
“Hello,” the male voice called. “Can you hear me?”
Dixie tried to answer but only a puff of air broke from her mouth. She tapped as fast as she could.
“Tap twice for yes.”
Dixie tapped twice.
“Stay as still as you can,” the man said. “We’re coming.”
Two fat tears pressed out of Dixie’s eyes. She didn’t think she had enough moisture in her body left to cry but the thought of seeing her family and friends again, the thought of not dying here, overwhelmed her. She lay her head down and waited.