CHAPTER 8
“Noo!!!” David rushed into the middle of the heaving, buckling street; as the earthquake knocked him off his feet, he threw himself into a prone position, covering his head. God of my fathers, he silently prayed, save me! Don’t let this earthquake kill me! He pulled his prayer shawl over the back of his head, then pressed his arms over it.
Meanwhile, Richard stumbled as he clasped his wife to his chest, striving to brace her. They had already left the Wailing Wall and started down a nearby street when the shaking started. Ryan and Kristen leaned against each other, each holding a baby. “God,” Ryan muttered through clenched teeth, “if this is our time, enable us to face death with courage! But if You still have work for us to do, please keep us alive through this!”
“Amen,” Kristen added, gritting her teeth. In that instant, the earthquake knocked them off their feet; Ryan and Kristen twisted their bodies to land on their backs. Neither one let go of the baby in his or her arms. The hard concrete sent shockwaves through their bodies as they landed on it.
All around them, buildings crashed, toppled over; cracks formed in the street, followed by slabs of concrete facing upward. Water spewed several feet into the air where fire hydrants fell on their sides. Up and down the street, terrified screams echoed in their ears. A few minutes later, the violent shaking stopped. The screams halted, but Jeremy and Nicole wailed. Ryan and Kristen proceeded to soothe them.
“Let’s not move yet,” Richard ordered. “This quake is over, but there may be aftershocks. Let’s stay right here till we know it’s safe.” Raising his head, he shook it, then lay his arms at his sides. “Look at all this rubble! And it’s so hot, too.”
He wiped his perspiring forehead with the back of his hand. “There will be many people trapped inside the rubble; some of them will die before help can reach them. And thousands who have already died.” He looked at the rows of demolished buildings lining both sides of the street.
“Yes.” Ryan nodded agreement. “There will be a total of seven thousand casualties, to be exact. And a tenth of the city destroyed.” He wiped his sweaty face with the back of his hand. “No telling how many who’ve been injured. Or trapped.”
Christina gasped. She pushed herself up on her elbows to stare at everyone. As she looked from person to person, a moan escaped from her throat, then she pulled herself up to her knees. “Rachel!” she cried. “Where is Rachel?”
Pushing themselves into sitting positions, the others looked up and down the street. “She’s gone,” Kristen said. “She must have gotten separated from us while we were coming here.”
“Rachel!” Christina screamed. ‘Where are you?!”
She was frantic. Rachel might have been killed in the earthquake! Or she might be trapped somewhere, seriously injured. Without a word, Christina leaped to her feet and stumbled down the torn-up street, picking her way over some rubble, brushing her hair out of her eyes, wiping beads of sweat off her forehead, pivoting this way and that. “Rachel!”
A hand gripped her shoulder, then spun her around. Richard’s worried eyes gazed into hers as he clutched her arms. “Christina! We’ve got to stay together! We will find Rachel, never fear, but we must not split up. Remember, those were Monica’s orders.”
Before Christina, gasping for breath, could respond, he pulled her into a tight embrace. Silently, she prayed that God would help them find their daughter and that she would be all right. Please, God, don’t let her die!
“Come on.” Richard gestured to the others as they approached. “Let’s go. Don’t worry, honey, we’ll find her!”
Meanwhile, back at the demolished store, Rachel, clutching her now-bruised arm, slowly crept out from under the counter, wincing as she crawled on pieces of shattered linoleum tiles. The shaking had stopped only a few minutes before. As she scrambled to her feet, she scanned the store, clutching her purse to her side. For a long moment, she stood stock-still, trying to get her bearings. The earthquake had knocked out the electricity; she could see only the barest of outlines.
Slowly, she approached the front, only to find herself blocked by a wall of debris. The partition that had divided the back of the store from the front had tumbled; the whole ceiling had fallen right behind it. Rachel just managed to see the outlines of the pieces of debris blocking her from the front entrance.
“The back’s blocked, too,” she muttered. Rachel was trapped. She could not leave the store. A gasp escaped from her mouth as she remembered.
“Miss Weizmann!” she yelled. “Are you here?”
No answer.
“Miss Weizmann?” she shrieked. “It’s Rachel—Rachel Daly! Can you hear me?”
Still no answer. Sobbing, Rachel dropped her purse and stumbled toward the wood-and-plaster debris blocking her from the entrance. She tried to tear a hole through it that she’d be able to crawl through. After several minutes of futile effort, she slid to the floor, moaning. She winced as pieces of tile dug through her jeans and pressed into her hips.
“I can’t get to her,” she said. “I can’t get out, myself!”
Rachel had never felt so helpless in her life, not since she had returned to her original home to find her real mother murdered. Not only could she not dig her way out of the rubble of this store, to save herself, neither could she do anything to help Deborah Weizmann. She couldn’t even give the woman first-aid. She hated that.
“Miss Weizmann may be dying, and I can’t even help her!” Rachel choked back a sob. “I can’t help myself, either. I might die here, too!”
Unwanted, unbidden sobs tore out of her throat. She rested her face on her knees and cried. “Please, God, help us!” she said, her voice choking. “Please don’t let us die!” She bent over, heaving with sobs.
Back in the vicinity of the Wailing Wall, her frantic parents and the Whittakers carefully picked their way through the rubble of the street. Suddenly, a man yelled, “Ryan! Stop!”
The group halted, then whirled around. A disheveled David Weizmann was carefully making his way through the concrete rubble, panting, his prayer shawl askew, beads of sweat rolling down his face. When he caught up, his breath came out in gasps.
“I just—barely—escaped death,” he panted. “And now, I must—find my sister! She’s out in this somewhere.” He shook his head violently. “What have I done, throwing her out? She could be dead now, and I’d never know!”
Taking a deep breath, Richard touched his arm. “Our Rachel’s missing, too.” He bit his lower lip and he and his wife exchanged glances. “We’ll just have to look for them both.” The others nodded agreement.
Ryan approached David. “Before we look, though, let’s pray together,” he said gently. “We’ll need God’s help to find them, since only He knows where they are.” He looked from David to Richard.
David nodded agreement. ‘You’re right. All we can do is follow His leading.” He straightened his prayer shawl as he spoke.
As the group bowed their heads, Ryan prayed that God would protect Rachel and Deborah, and that He would lead them to the two. They proceeded to mince down the broken street, carefully stepping over or around concrete shards. Moans reached their ears from all over; stunned, shell-shocked people trudged everywhere. Ryan and Kristen cradled the babies against their shoulders, arms wrapped around them protectively. Christina’s soft leather purse hung from her left shoulder.
David sighed as he trotted next to Ryan. “Please, God, protect my sister,” he implored, gazing up at the sky.
Unknown to him, two angels watched them leave. “I wish we could give him good news,” Andrew said, sadness in his eyes. “But the Father has already told me I’ll soon be taking Deborah Home.”
Tess nodded agreement. Her brooch sparkled in the sunlight. “It may be a different story for Rachel, though. God is going to send Monica to comfort Rachel, as she waits. She’s feeling quite helpless because she can neither escape, herself, nor help Deborah. And she’s frightened.” She raised her head. “Please, Father, help those two!”
END OF CHAPTER 8