No Strings Attached (45 page)

Eliot and Nick made it down, but the stairs buckled and imploded just as Sara, who was on Nick's heels, hit the top step. She dove down to the living room floor, landing, thankfully, on one of Uncle Rob's throw rugs, which cushioned her fall. Unhurt, she leaped up and ran toward the kitchen.

Nick tried to stop her. “Sara, no, not the kitchen, remember? Under the poker table—go in the game room!”

“Duck!” she shrieked, pointing up to the wooden railing of the loft as it came crashing down. It missed Nick and Eliot by inches. “The earthquake kit is in the kitchen, I have to get it.” Sara was slipping and sliding as the floor shook. She flung open the door to the basement and shouted, “Naomi, stay down there! Stand by an inside wall!”

Sara whirled around the room. “Where's Jared? Where's Lindsay?”

“Help!” Jared yelled, kneeling by the coffee table, pointing to the mountain of glass that had been the sliding door, now joined by random pieces of furniture, sections of sofa that had torn off, shelving units that'd toppled—it'd all fallen atop the shattered glass.

“Lindsay's under there! Help—she's buried!”

Nick took charge. “El—you and Sara get under that table, now! Jared, get under—”

The unhinged beam came crashing down from the ceiling, slicing the coffee table, and the living room, in half, missing Jared's head by a fraction. It propelled Sara into action. With two long strides she was in the kitchen and instantly out again, carrying the kit with the flashlights, gloves, helmets, and radio. Struggling to keep her balance as the house rumbled and moved, she tossed them over the fallen beam to Jared and to Nick, who'd started across the rubble toward the other side. “Put the gloves on! Put the helmets on! Here's a flashlight!”

At that moment, another large quake erupted, knocking them all on their butts. Jared heard the front windows smash, and rolled away from what was left of the sofa and chairs.

Nick had fallen by the fireplace.

“Move, Nick,” he bellowed, coughing from the sudden dust and smoke in the air. “The bricks …”

Nick took a falling brick on the shoulder, but crawled away before he got hit again. The next jolt sent more bricks and what was left of the furniture straight onto the pile of glass from the shattered sliding door. Another ripple in the ground, and the big couch, Moroccan chair, tables—every souvenir in the eclectic, cluttered living room was now atop the mountainous pile burying Lindsay even further.

Nick shielded his head from the falling debris, then managed to snatch the helmet Sara had tossed over. “Sara and Eliot, hold on to the radio and get under that table in the game room—now!” Nick commanded, and the two of them scurried toward safety.

Jared was so shaky, he fumbled snapping the helmet on, and couldn't get the gloves over his quivering hands. He felt like an impotent dunce, doing nothing while all hell broke loose around him, watching Sara and Nick take action. All he could think about was Lindsay.
Just let them get to Lindsay and let her be okay.

“How do you know she's under there, man?” Nick called out to him.

“She ran in, through the doors—I saw them smash, and then the floor cracked open. I think she fell down.” Jared struggled to keep from crying. “She was trying to find the damn dog.”

Flashlight in hand, Nick carefully threaded his way over the debris toward Jared. The pile of house detritus was now easily six feet high and twice that wide. Gingerly, Nick walked around it, cupping his mouth and calling, “Lindsay! Lindsay! Can you hear me?”

Jared trembled.

All at once it was quiet. Too quiet.

“It stopped,” Jared said, “The earthquake is over. I think … we can get her now.”

“Aftershocks, man,” Nick reminded him. “They could be more intense than the quake.”

“Lindsay,” Jared yelled into the pile, “shout if you hear me! We're gonna get you out, baby.”

Nick held his hand up. “Wait … did you hear that?”

Jared had heard nothing.

Then, weakly, from deep beneath the rubble: “Yap.”

It was no use. They'd been at it for an hour, and every time Nick and Jared thought they'd cleared away some of the mess, an aftershock rattled the walls, tossing more debris onto the pile. The bike helmets kept them from concussions, or worse. But they'd made no progress in freeing Lindsay—who'd not made a sound to let them know she was conscious.

Every few minutes, Sara shouted from the game room to assure them that she and Eliot, ensconced under the poker
table, were okay. And that Naomi had wisely stayed safely in the basement. The radio was reporting a 6.1-level quake—pretty massive—that was playing havoc with the houses in the Hollywood Hills and the Los Angeles basin.

“They're saying it's gonna take rescue crews a while to get here,” she yelled out. “Did you get to Lindsay yet?”

Nick responded, “Not yet. Stay where you are: We're doing good.”

Then the next blast came. So loud, it rendered them momentarily deaf. It took them awhile to realize it had not come from their house. “Shit!” Nick yelled, holding his hands over his ears. “Sounds like a house blew up!”

Jared prayed no one was in it … but at six in the morning, that was unlikely. Then he locked eyes with Nick. Neither had to say it: They'd never looked for the gas line. No one would have shut it off.

“It's gonna be all right,” Nick said, reacting to the terror in Jared's eyes.

Jared could hold it back no longer; he started to bawl. “It's my fault. I'm such an ass. We're gonna die here.”

“No, you're not.” A voice, steady, confident, bold, forced them to whirl around. Naomi, tiny but fierce, was standing in the doorway by the kitchen. “No one's gonna die,” Naomi repeated. “I shut the gas off.”

“How d-d-did you know where it was?” Jared stuttered.

“The shut-off valve is in the basement—it's next to my bed. Stay put, I'm getting a helmet and flashlight from Sara. Then I'm going to get Lindsay out.”

Nick and Jared exchanged stunned glances.

Naomi returned a minute later, with a flashlight, gloves, and a surgical mask covering her mouth. “Sara and Eliot are doing okay,” she reported.

“Where's your helmet?” Nick asked nervously.

She shook her head. “Won't fit. I'm going to try and crawl through the rubble to get her.”

“What … are you … talking about?” Jared's teeth were chattering.

Naomi informed them calmly, “The three of us are going to clear away an opening. I'm a lot smaller than you. I'll go in.”

“Are you crazy?” Nick challenged. “You can't crawl into this mound. One big aftershock and you're a goner.”

“And so is Lindsay—if she's under there. That's why we can't wait.”

For a moment, Jared believed—really believed—that if he blinked, he'd wake up, realize this was all a dream. A nightmare implanted in his brain by his father, to scare him into maturity. On cue, the house shook again; a broken guitar swiped his head. It was real.

Nick reached out to help Naomi climb over the mess on the floor. Gingerly, she tiptoed through the destroyed living
room and over to where the guys had been trying to attack the mountain of rubble. Gloves on, she deftly and quickly started digging, shoving away shards of wood, glass, and bricks to make a tunnel through which she could crawl.

Jared babbled inanely, “If you save Lindsay, I'll give you a million dollars, I'll make sure you're never on the streets ag—”

“Shut up,” Naomi said, not unkindly. “Let's focus. Keep moving these bricks out of the way. We're going to get her out. End of story.”

Jared made a silent vow: If Lindsay was safe, he'd make everything up to everyone. Somehow.

A half hour had gone by, punctuated by reports from Sara, relaying info from the radio. The epicenter, she said, was in Ojai. That's where the worst damage was, and where most of the rescue teams were headed.

Another aftershock hit, sending Jared sliding on his butt toward the fireplace; if not for the helmet, the falling bricks might've killed him. Naomi and Nick scrambled right back to work.

“Okay,” she determined, “there's enough room and air in here for me to burrow through and down. Give me a flashlight.”

“Are you sure?” Nick asked, wiping grime and dust out of his eyes.

“It doesn't matter,” she replied. “We don't have the time to make the opening bigger. Keep your light shining on me.”

Thank you. You're so brave. I'm indebted to you.
The words Jared wanted to stay were stuck in his throat.

“Lindsay! Lindsay! Are you okay?” Naomi's voice came from inside the cave of debris. Then, “Shit!”

“What—what is it?” Jared yelled. “Is it Lindsay?”

“I got cut,” Noami shouted back. Then, “Lindsay? Are you down there?”

Then there was silence. Jared began to pace, while Nick continued to kneel by the opening through which Naomi had disappeared, his flashlight beaming.

“Why's it taking so long?” Jared felt like he was crawling out of his skin.

“Because she's gotta move slowly, man,” Nick replied. “She makes a sudden move, more garbage falls on both of them.”

It felt like an eternity. Suddenly, they heard music. “‘Mr. Brightside'?”

“What the hell's that?” Jared demanded. “Where's it coming from?”

“Dude, it's your cell phone. Chill out.”

The last thing Jared cared about was talking to anyone, about anything. Unless it was Lindsay. And what were the odds of getting cell reception buried under a pile of earthquake rubble? This must be, he thought, what hell is like. Waiting.

Then finally—it felt like an eternity—they heard Naomi. “I see her! I see her!”

“Is she all right?” Jared shouted, but Nick shushed him.

“What do you need? Can you get her out?”

Sara and Eliot appeared, she clutching the radio, he, still clutching his head. “What can we do?” Sara asked.

“Go back,” Nick started to say, but Sara wasn't having it. “It's stopped. We'll be okay. We're staying out here with you. I got Eliot's cell phone; it worked, I called for an ambulance. But I don't know how long it will take.”

Naomi shouted, “I've got her shoulders, but she's unconscious. I have to drag her, and pull her out backward. Nick, the minute you see the bottoms of my shoes, come in and pull.”

“Is she okay? Is she okay?” was all Jared could say, on a loop.

By the time Nick had grasped Naomi and pulled both girls out from under the rubble, Jared had his answer.

Unconscious, cut up, clutching the bloody dog, Lindsay was, by far, not okay.

They hadn't been out for a half second when another aftershock rose up from the ground and a brick went flying and hit Naomi, knocking her out.

Sara, Nick, and Eliot insisted on riding in the ambulance with Naomi. Jared rode in another ambulance with Lindsay and the dog, who'd managed to survive as well. The EMT crew let
him apply cool compresses to her head, which was dirty and bloodied. She'd regained consciousness soon after being freed, but was coughing from the dust and smoke. Wisely, Sara cautioned against moving her in case glass was embedded deep in her skin.

“You okay, baby?” he whispered.

Lindsay groaned, but nodded.

“You were a hero—you rescued the dog,” Jared told her.

“I didn't want to lose my job—” She fell into a coughing fit.

“Let her rest,” the paramedic advised Jared. “We're just about at the hospital. We'll take care of her.”

Jared insisted on staying by Lindsay's side. And Lindsay insisted on trying to talk. “Naomi saved me. It was just like Johnny in
The Outsiders
—he was homeless too, and dove into a burning barn to save those children.”

Good analogy, Jared thought, one a movie buff would think of.

“Is she okay?” Lindsay asked.

“I think so; she's in the ambulance in front of us. She took a brick to the head. Nick and Sara are with her.”

“So they're okay?” she croaked.

“Yeah, they're good. They're fucking heroes, babe. All of them.”

“Eliot. He … he … tried to tell us. Is he—?”

“He's good, he's fine. He kinda lost it, though, in the end.
He just froze. I don't get it. But if it wasn't for him …” Jared trailed off. He had a lot of gratitude to spread, a lot of apologies.

He hung by Lindsay's gurney as long as the paramedics would allow; when they took her to be examined, he was asked to stay in the waiting area. The place was in full triage mode. Hundreds of injured were being ferried in.

Nick, waiting with Sara and Eliot, nudged him. “Dude, answer your freakin' cell phone. It hasn't stopped ringing.”

“Huh?” Jared hadn't even heard it.

“It's in your pocket, man. If you don't answer it, I will,” Nick threatened.

“Hello?” Jared said unsteadily.

He'd never heard his father so discombobulated. The older man was jabbering, blubbering, sobbing, weeping. “Jared! Thank God, you're safe. I went down to the school to find you—they said no one had seen you. I was sure you were—”

“The school?” Jared, still dazed, was more confused.

Until he remembered. Sara said the epicenter of the quake was in Ojai. Where the community college was. Where he was supposed to be. Of course, his father, unable to reach him for hours, assumed the worst.

“Dad.” Jared took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something.”

The share house was trashed. The structure of the cozy wood
-frame abode remained intact, but all the windows had blown out. Several walls had imploded, and piles of wrecked furniture and splintered wood from tables, railings, and Uncle Rob's prized guitars mixed with unhinged bricks from the fireplace. The massive detritus of what used to be CDs, posters, shelves, rugs, and knickknacks was scattered everywhere, all of it covered by a thick layer of dust and grime.