Chapter 26
DECISION
Around five o’clock at the museum—which had definitely been a good idea—Skylar said, “We have about half an hour left before we have to leave and get something to eat. What does everybody want to do?”
“Te Taiao!” George said. “The nature place. That’s the funnest.”
“Finlay said, “It’s more for little kids, though. All about bugs and things. Well, the Quake House is exciting.”
“If you haven’t already done it twice,” Scarlett said.
“It’s a bit scary, though,” Georgia said. “When you go in the house and it shakes.”
“That’s OK,” George said. “I’ll hold your hand, and we’ll practice together. It’s good to practice anyway.”
“Drop, cover, and hold on?” Scarlett said. “That doesn’t take much practice. It’s only three things.”
“Practice is always good,” Skylar said. “Let’s go do that, then.”
“We should have a vote,” Scarlett said.
“We could,” Skylar said, “but then we’d spend all our time discussing and voting and wouldn’t get to go anywhere at all. Te Taiao it is. And one last time at the Quake House.”
Scarlett acquiesced without more argument, which was something.
The kids weren’t actually doing terribly together now, despite the occasional flare-up.
Of course, there was the thing with Zane, which Scarlett seemed still to be harboring resentment over, but what could Skylar do about that?
Other than not seeing him again, which she somehow seemed to be completely unwilling to do, however wise it would be for her peace of mind.
It was probably more that the end of a holiday was always a bit unsettling and disappointing, and combined with your dad playing a rugby match against the Irish?
Well, yeh. She’d give Scarlett some grace on that, and assume that Zane could work things out with his own child.
Everything was not up to her, because she wasn’t the Queen of the World, or the Designated Fixer, either.
When they reached the head of the queue to get into the earthquake simulator, they had ten minutes left.
Perfect. The kids would get a little thrill, would tell each other they wouldn’t be that scared in a real earthquake, even a bad one, because they’d all already felt some, hadn’t they?
That earthquakes were actually pretty exciting.
Finlay would say that the loudest, of course.
And then they’d go get Chinese food—cheap and filling—and take that walk to the stadium.
Brilliant plan. Even Scarlett could get on board with that.
Filing into the darkened room, then, with the image of a kitchen projected across one entire wall. So cleverly done was it that you’d swear the people were just there, Mum and Dad and kid, fixing cups of tea, turning to the screen and offering one to their “guests.” Chatting about their day when …
Some screams when the shaking started, and George had his arm around Georgia, the two of them dropping to the floor and crawling under the table the same way the people were doing in the kitchen.
“Drop, cover, and hold on!” the parents in the film were instructing as the floor shook. A gentle roll, then a sharper one, and—
At first, she wasn’t sure what was happening.
Had the museum turned up the shaking since the last time they’d visited?
Then a bigger jolt hit her, and the room was swaying.
Actually swaying, the floor rolling under them like a ship at sea.
Another jolt, the hardest one yet, and she staggered and fell.
The dim lights flickered, then kept doing it.
A quick, horrified moment of realization, and she was grabbing the kids within reach and shouting, “Drop and cover! Hold on!” Getting them down, then reaching for Scarlett, who was somehow still standing on the rolling floor.
Finlay was there before her. He got up from his knees, grabbed Scarlett, and pulled her down with him.
Saying something, but Skylar didn’t hear.
She was over the other kids, her arms spread.
There was a noise like creaking and groaning all around them.
Overwhelmingly loud, and she braced herself as best she could with her knees, kept her arms wide as if that would somehow protect everybody, and thought, It’s a big one. It’s bad. We’re OK, though. We’re OK.
An alarm blaring now. A fire alarm? OK. If there’s a fire, we’ll get out. We’ll evacuate. The building was designed to withstand this. It has to have been. Earthquake and fire both.
She didn’t realize for long moments that the shaking had died down, maybe because her heart was hammering so loudly. The creaking and groaning was quieter, though, or was it? The blare of the alarm stopped abruptly, and a voice replaced it. A mechanical voice, or a recorded one.
“All visitors to the stairways. Stay away from windows. Climb the stairs to Level Four or Five. All visitors to Level Four or Five. Stay away from windows. Do not leave the building. All visitors to the stairways.”
Kids crying around her. Confusion. People picking up dropped belongings, voices high with fear and some excitement. As if it were a movie. As if it were a video game.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Good. Now move.
“Let’s go,” she said, and began pulling kids to their feet. “Scarlett, Finlay, take a younger one’s hand. George and Georgia, come with me. Hold my hand.”
“Mum,” Finlay said. She couldn’t see him well; it was too dark in here.
She could also barely hear him over the continuous announcements.
The little room was crowded, and she forced herself to remain calm.
They’d get out. One foot in front of the other.
Was anybody hurt? She looked around. No, all the visitors were on their feet now, shuffling toward the door.
“Mum,” Finlay said again.
“What?” she asked.
“That kid,” Finlay said. “I think he’s alone.”
Oh. He was maybe six or seven, and he was standing alone in the corner, holding the wall, shifting from foot to foot.
You’re calm, she told herself. We have time. “Hi,” she said. “What’s your name?”
“F-Forrest,” the boy said, all wide, stretched eyes.
“Is your mum or dad here at the museum?” she asked.
“M-my big sister. But I don’t know where she is. She said she’d come find me, but she’s not— she’s—” He was trying not to cry. They were the only ones in the room now, and Scarlett was saying, “We have to go. They say we have to go.”
“Come with us, then,” Skylar said. “We’ll go where they tell us, and your sister will go there too, because those are the rules.
” Kids were always comforted to know that.
“We’ll find her there, but right now, you need to stay with us.
Here. Take Scarlett’s hand. She’s a big sister too, and she’ll look after you. ”
Scarlett said, to her credit, “Come hold my hand, and we’ll go together. We’ll be safe up there.”
Out into the main exhibit area at last, one of her hands holding George’s, the other holding Georgia’s. She wanted to hold all their hands, but she couldn’t. She could lead, though, so she did that.
There weren’t many people left, half an hour before the museum closed, but it seemed like all of them were milling around right here, talking excitedly.
Going to the windows to peer outside, exactly as they’d been told not to do.
Stepping on the broken glass that was everywhere.
Display cases, that was. A staff member hurrying by, going to round up the visitors who were panicking or confused or merely excited and curious, as if this were a film.
Another employee standing at the staircase, redirecting those who wanted to go down.
“Not safe to go down,” she was saying. “Not safe. Go up. Up.”
Tsunami, Skylar thought as they began to climb the broad stairs with the others. They were at the water’s edge here. How long before a tsunami arrived, if the quake had originated close by? Minutes, maybe. An hour?
Probably not an hour.
Go up. Go up. Go up.
Zane was in the back of the bus, as always, with the rest of the leadership group. The bus was driven from the back, they said, and it was true.
There was pride in that gradual shift over the seasons.
Match by match, row by row, until at last you reached the leadership group and were allowed to sit in those coveted back seats.
Gordon’s spot near the front gnawed at him, Zane was sure, but being an All Black meant being tested in the furnace.
If you made it through without cracking, your metal was harder. Stronger.
Not that the leadership group was chatting, or anybody else, either.
The talking had been done already. Most of the players had on their headphones now, were going inside themselves, drilling down for their resolve and their calm, trying to harness the adrenaline, to control it.
Zane didn’t have headphones, because he’d never got in the habit of it.
He’d had kids too young for the head-banging type of music to ever have taken hold, and the inside of his head had to be a quiet place anyway, because that was how he worked.
A word with Gordon before the match? Definitely.
He’d been called up as injury cover after that brutal match against the French last week, and Gordon did sometimes have trouble making his head a quiet place.
You needed a blue head, not a red head, to play rugby at this level.
It might not look like players were staying cool in the heat of the moment, but cool was exactly what they had to be.
He reminded himself to have that word, then let it go so he wasn’t thinking anything, just looking out the window at the green landscape. Ngauranga Station. Nearly there. Six or seven kilometers to go, and—