Chapter 28
LIMBO
Eventually, everybody was just sitting on the hard, cold floor of the museum. A generator provided emergency lighting, and that was all, so they sat, surrounded by the darkness outside and the fear of what that darkness hid. All of them shattered. Stunned.
Stunned because of what had happened over the past hour.
Two more waves had come in, more terrifying because they hadn’t been visible in the darkness.
Just that horrible roar, then the wave crashing into the huge building with a shuddering jolt as the people within held each other, cried, called out, or just stood and waited, blank and frozen and silent.
A hard aftershock that shook the building for ten more terrifying seconds, then two more.
And after a long while, a fourth wave. Smaller.
Weaker. Another aftershock, and nothing since.
All those people on the walkway, before. All those people she hadn’t saved. She tried not to see them caught, swept out to sea. A little girl in a pink jacket, with her mum and dad. She couldn’t bear to think of that little girl.
Stop it. Focus on now. If only she had something to do, though. Some way to help. Some way to escape that vision. She couldn’t even text, because the network was either too busy or down, she didn’t know which.
Museum staff were handing around food now, sandwiches and pastries and bottles of water, so that was activity, at least. “Take one food item only,” they were saying.
“One item only.” From the café on Level 4, Skylar guessed.
The main café would have had more food, but it was on Level 1.
Nobody was going down there, not now, and anyway, it had to have been flooded.
The kids had long since lapsed into silence, huddled together on the floor.
Forrest was still with them, because his sister, Fiona, had never turned up.
Gone to meet friends—or more likely a boy—and been caught outside?
Oh, how Skylar hoped not. She’d been gone “for a while” before Forrest had headed into the Quake House, the boy had said.
Please, no, Skylar thought, and knew it wouldn’t matter. That it wouldn’t help.
Worse, Forrest didn’t know his parents’ mobile numbers. He knew his address, but that wasn’t much help to her now. She thought about how worried his parents would be, and then she couldn’t think about it anymore, because it wasn’t helping.
When you know more, you’ll do more. Right now, you have him safe, and you’ll keep him safe.
Her watch said seven-twenty. Long since full dark outside, and made darker because there were no streetlights. No lights in buildings. No light at all.
“I wish I knew where my dad was,” Scarlett said. It was the first time anybody had spoken in a while.
“I know,” Skylar said.
“I’m hungry,” George said.
“There’s nothing to eat,” Scarlett said. “We’ll get food soon, though. We’ll get our tea. Here, come sit with me.” Reassuring them. Comforting them. Stepping up.
Skylar left her to it and checked her phone again. She had bars! Her heart leapt. She didn’t want to tell the kids, though, not until she got through.
A text to her Granddad’s number. We’re safe. Stuck in Te Papa. How about you and Maureen?
Text failed to send.
The network still too busy, maybe? She hoped that was it. Granddad and Maureen were far above the tsunami danger, so it would just be the earthquake.
Just the earthquake. Things falling from high shelves. Heavy furniture tipping. A building slipping off its foundation.
Fire.
Don’t think about that. Not now.
A similar text to Zane’s number. Surreptitious, so Scarlett wouldn’t see.
Text failed to send.
A cold squeezing at her heart, but she didn’t know anything, did she?
And if any man could get out of a tough spot, it was Zane.
The tsunami had hit a good fifteen minutes after the quake, and that was enough time.
Zane was no fool, the coaches probably weren’t either, and everybody in New Zealand knew about tsunami danger.
They’d have climbed. Surely they’d have climbed.
A stirring, now, amidst the sprawled and huddled bodies. An older woman—senior staff, probably—arriving at the edge of the crowd and saying, her voice resolutely calm, “We’ve just heard the news via GeoNet, on the emergency radio. The tsunami danger appears to be past.”
Murmurs, then talking. Questioning voices.
The woman said, “The quake was centered fairly close by, on the Wellington Fault. That made the shaking worse, but the waves didn’t grow as much as they could have if they’d started from farther away.
We’ll keep you here for another half hour to make sure, and then you’re free to go. ”
“Where do we go?” a man called out. “We were supposed to be flying out to the States tonight. Is the airport open? And if not, where will we be safe?”
“The airport’s closed,” the woman said, “but there’ll be evacuation centers. In the schools, and in some government buildings as well. Police will be out there, too, and emergency services. They’ll point the way. Water’s out in places, and the electric, too, but no worries, there are centers.”
“Why can’t we stay here?” a woman asked. “Our hotel is a good mile away, and I don’t even know if we can get there.”
“We’re not equipped for that,” the lady-in-charge said. “We have no blankets, and not enough food and bottled water, either. But no worries, there are centers all around Wellington.”
Where? Skylar thought. Where are these centers?
And how full will the ones around here be, if I can even find one?
With all the hotels, the shops, the restaurants?
But nobody, it seemed, could tell her. She was sitting on the floor with seven hungry, scared, tired children, and she didn’t have a plan.
Then make one.
Zane was still in the wood-and-glass house, but only eight of the group were still there with him.
The homeowners had gone round to the neighbors, who’d stepped up to feed and house the group of stranded travelers, dispersing them throughout the neighborhood.
At the moment, he and Gordon were eating cheese sandwiches and drinking the latest of the endless cups of tea served up by their hosts.
They were all watching the news, because, astonishingly, the power and water were still on here.
There’d been some dishes broken, the owners had told them cheerfully, “but our shear walls and bolts and so forth seem to have held, because nothing’s shifted too badly.
Got a few cracks in the paint, that’s all.
We’re built on rock up here, and we had the bookshelves bolted to the wall. Lucky, eh.”
Well, yes and no. It was good to be lucky, but it was even better to be prepared.
“No estimate yet on number of fatalities,” the TV announcer was saying, while the camera panned over wreckage.
Buildings without windows, a collapsed carpark, crumbling concrete.
“We’re getting reports of injuries and some deaths from falling debris and collapsed buildings, but the number of casualties from the tsunami is still unknown.
Over to our own Iris Johnson in the CBD for more. ”
Zane didn’t want to hear from Iris Johnson. He wanted to hear from Skylar, and as the minutes crawled by and the news got worse, that need became stronger. He was trying his text again every ten minutes, and the ones to his Nan and parents, too. Somebody would get a signal and answer him.
He thought that for thirty minutes more, and then he heard the ding.
He didn’t have to grab the phone, because it was already in his hand.
Mum and I are here with Nan and Jade and Geoffrey, his father had texted. You OK? Where are the kids?
Don’t know, Zane texted back. Geoffrey didn’t hear from Skylar? You all OK? Such a normal-sounding text, as if plans for Christmas lunch had gone amiss, when it was his whole world on the line.
Not yet, his dad texted. No service. Where are you?
Safe, Zane sent. On the road. He pushed the button, but got the message again.
Text failed to send.
“Bugger,” he said. Softly, but Gordon heard it, because he said, “What?”
“Dad and Mum and Nan and Jade are OK. All at the house.”
“Oh,” Gordon said. “The kids, though?”
“No word,” Zane said, and stared at the black windows. At the blankness.
Gordon’s hand gripped his shoulder. “It’s a bugger getting through, that’s all,” he said. “You’ll hear.”
Zane didn’t answer. People said things like that all the time. It’ll be OK. You’ll hear soon. I’m sure she’s fine. He knew it wasn’t necessarily true. Others around him were getting through now. Getting news, with the relief on their faces almost painful to see. He sat, phone in hand, and waited.
And waited.
Another ding of a text. His heart pounded, but it was Eddie.
Training facility’s standing. Some damage, a boil-water advisory, and the power’s out, but there’s a generator. Working out how to get us back there. Pass it on.
He did. And then he sat.
Another ding. The sick feeling was past his stomach now, into his throat. Eddie again.
Looks like the bus may be able to go roundabout and get up here, or we can walk to it. Driver thinks so, anyway. Working that out now.
He told Gordon and said, “Pass it on, will you?” Some of the boys were playing cards. One was reading a book. One was sleeping. How could he manage it?
Another ding. He sighed and lifted the phone.
We’re OK. Sheltering in Te Papa, but have to leave soon. Working on a plan to get back to the house. Are you OK?
It was Skylar.
His hand shook, and he dropped the phone, then picked it up and texted, Yes.
Where are you exactly? I’ll come get you.
It went through, but a moment later, another aftershock hit.
A strong one this time, and he braced himself against the sofa as the house creaked and groaned, the light swayed overhead, and a thud, thud, thud came from somewhere.
“Bugger,” he heard when the shaking stopped. “Fridge walked across the floor.”
Three rugby players jumped up, clearly glad for something to do, but Zane wasn’t among them. No answering text came, but it would come soon. Surely it would come soon.
He couldn’t control his face anymore. He couldn’t control his hands. He put both of them over his face, put his elbows on his knees, and shook.
Gordon’s voice, sounding alarmed. “Zazza? Bro? What? What’s happened?”
“OK,” Zane got out. His entire body was shaking now, his tense muscles nearly spasming with the relief. “They’re … The kids. They’re OK.” Because they had to be. You couldn’t get that text and then not have them be OK. Too unfair. Too much.
He knew there was no such thing as too much.
He lurched to his feet, found the toilet, and vomited up his tea.