Chapter Nineteen #2
A few halting questions from Peter suggested she had captured his interest, so she plumbed her memory for stories.
She told him of the imaginary games they played.
(“Pirates?” he asked, managing to sound skeptical.
“We were very unusual little girls,” Julia replied with a little laugh.) She told him about Mr. Carruthers the seal, and finally about camping out under the stars when they were older.
“Were you scared?”
“No, Peter. I wasn’t scared,” Julia said. “I always felt quite safe.”
As these words came out of her mouth, Julia felt a catch at her throat, and she was overcome by a wave of sorrow, and something very like regret.
Meanwhile, the imperative voices she had heard above were joined by banging and scraping. At first, the sounds were coming from the rear and perimeter, far enough away that Julia knew that even if she shouted, nobody would hear her.
After some time, however, she could tell that the activity had drawn nearer. Just as Julia was preparing to shout for help, she heard something fall near her legs, an alarming reminder of the precariousness of their shelter. Trying to keep her voice calm, she called out to Peter.
“We must yell, Peter, so they can find us.” So they don’t kill us. “I’ll count to three, and then yell ‘Help’ as loud as you can.”
“Okay,” Peter said, a little uncertainly.
Julia counted to three and tried to shout, but her mouth and lungs, while clear enough to speak, were still too dry to yell.
She swallowed a few times, and then tried again.
Peter tried to shout, too, but his voice was too small, his poor lungs impaired by the weight of his mother.
When another chunk of debris fell even closer to where she lay, Julia somehow found her voice. She was not sure what words came out of her mouth—some combination of Help, We’re down here! and God, please, help!
There was a pause in the motion above, and Julia shouted again, as loud as she could: “PLEASE! HELP!”
The voices were still too muffled to make out the words, but she heard a man call out to someone else. There were creaks and thuds, more indecipherable shouts, and the sound of debris being dragged away. And then a tiny sliver of light pierced the darkness above her legs.
“Someone down there?”
“Yes! Please help!” Suddenly, tears threatened, and for a second, Julia was unable to speak. She took a deep breath. “I’m under a seat. My leg is trapped.”
He called out to someone. “A woman’s down here alive!” Indistinct voices responded.
“A little boy, too,” Julia called. “He says he is all right, but his mother is on top of him. She seems to have … fainted.”
“Where is he?”
“He was sitting about two rows behind me.” She called out, “Peter?”
Peter was silent. Julia tried once more, and when he again failed to reply, she felt another surge of anxiety. Had Peter sustained some internal injury of which, in his shock, he had not been aware?
“I’m your teacher, calling roll. I say, ‘Peter McCarthy,’ and you say…”
“Here,” Peter said.
“Louder, Peter. Your teacher can’t hear you. She has a banana in her ear.”
Peter, God bless him, actually giggled. “HERE!” he said, a little louder.
“Good job, young man,” came the voice from above. “I’m going to find you some help.”
“Are you a fireman?” Julia asked.
“A reporter, I’m afraid. It’s a bit chaotic up here. Firemen are here, but they sent for the army, and the soldiers are just arriving. What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Julia Demarest.”
“Miss Julia Demarest?” There was a sudden excitement in his tone. “Oh, that is good news. Give me a moment, will you? I promise, I’ll be right back.”
The man seemed to have stood because his voice was farther away, but she heard him call to someone. A few minutes later, she again heard steps above. Then, through the hole in the debris above, came a familiar voice.
“Julia! My God, is it really you? Are you all right?” The tone was a mix of anguish and wonder.
“Michael!” Tears stung at Julia’s eyes once more. She was confused for a moment about why he was there, but then she realized the place must be crawling with reporters. “My legs are trapped. I think my ankle is broken. How did you know I was here?”
“Miss Riordan found me as soon as I arrived.”
“Bess is all right?” Julia’s voice seized, and she choked back a sob. Since her first prayer that Bess might have been taken quickly, she had not allowed herself to think about her friend.
“She was in the lobby. The air compressed and blew her out the doors, but she landed in the snow. She is fine, except frantic about you. I sent someone to find her and let her know you’re alive.
” He paused for a second, then added, “I see soldiers arriving. The firemen have been doing their best, but the army has better equipment. We’re going to get you out of here, Jules. ”
She heard more sounds above, banging and the dragging of debris, along with lots of shouting, but she sensed the operation was more careful, methodical.
Another sliver of light appeared, closer to Peter.
She could not hear the words over the noise, but someone was calling down to him, and he appeared to be answering.
Eventually, a larger hole opened, and Julia saw the figure of a man descend through it, then crouch in the small space. From what Julia could make out, Peter and his mother were in front of their seats, her body sheltering his. Then she saw Mrs. McCarthy’s lifeless body being lifted out.
“Michael!” she called up.
“What is it? Are you all right?” Michael asked.
“Peter’s mother fainted,” she said, urgently. “Do you understand? Don’t let anyone say otherwise in front of that poor boy. Not now.”
“I understand. Give me a moment.” She heard him speak to someone; then his disembodied voice returned. “I let them know. But Julia, it seems they need to cut through a metal beam in order to get you out of here. It’s a bit tricky, so it might be a bit. Just … just hang on, will you?”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
For three long hours, she stayed under that seat, while she grew progressively wearier, and the ache in her ankle returned with a vengeance, along with terrible cramping throughout her whole body. Julia told Michael more than once to go do his job, but he just laughed and stayed put.
Eventually, she heard voices directly above and smelled the acetylene from torches.
There was a great deal of sound and movement, and a few scary moments when bits of debris fell around her, but finally, an opening appeared above her, and before long, she saw a man’s face, peering at her beneath the seats.
“Are you all right? Doctors are up there waiting. We’ve got the steel moved, but now we have to get some concrete off your leg.”
“I’m all right.”
“Afraid it’ll hurt like the devil when they lift it.”
“Just … just be careful,” Julia said. She heard machinery of some kind, and then felt the weight come off her ankle, and then a shot of agonizing pain traveled from her leg, up her arm.
“Can you move it?” someone asked.
Julia tried to answer, but everything went black.
The first thing Julia noticed when she awakened was the smell of carbolic soap.
Then she saw light through her eyelids and tried to open her eyes, but she found she could not.
She sensed a pillow under her head and space around her, though, and became aware of a feeling of relief.
Finally, with what felt like superhuman effort, she pried her eyes open and saw a leg, encased in plaster, and realized it was her own.
And then she remembered.
She heard movement in the room and turned her head to see a nurse.
“Where am I?” she asked, her voice thin and raspy.
The nurse spun around and smiled. “Hello, Miss Demarest. I am Nurse Osgood. You’re at Garfield Hospital, and you’re a very lucky woman.”
It was at that point that the pain in Julia’s leg registered, but another worry superseded it.
“The little boy?” Julia struggled to get the words out. She was disoriented, and her throat was so dry. “Peter?”
“Peter McCarthy?”
Julia nodded.
“He is fine. A bit scraped up, but he is home with his father.”
“His mother?”
The nurse shook her head sadly, and Julia lapsed back into sleep.
Those first days she would only ever remember as a series of discrete images.
It was as if the hospital acted as an amnesiac.
Relieved of all volition, she surrendered herself utterly.
That her mind was superfluous came as a relief, as she did not wish to think.
She slept a great deal. If visitors came when she was awake, she saw them.
Somehow she knew they had come, but she remembered little about what was said.
She recalled Mina being there, holding her hand and urging her to talk, so as not to repress her memories.
The tenderness was so un-Mina-like, Julia thought she must have dreamed it, but she remembered Mina pointing to a bowl of roses and telling her they were from Pelham.
Later, she asked Nurse Osgood to hand her the card, which confirmed he had indeed sent them.
Her second day (or she thought it was her second day, at least), Julia awakened to feel another hand in hers. She opened her eyes and saw her mother, sitting in a chair beside her bed.
“Oh, Julia…” Mother managed a smile, but her voice was choked with emotion.
Julia tried to apologize, though she could not really say what for. She had a vague notion that this was all a nuisance, that lives were being upended, and another, even vaguer idea that she was in bad odor for something.
“Father was not able to come, but he sends his love and best wishes for your healing.”
Father. The funeral. Julia squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry.” Her voice quavered.
“There is no need, Julia, I promise.” Mother pressed her hand, and Julia opened her eyes again to see that her mother’s eyes were damp, her expression one of gentle admonition.
More, please, Julia thought. More of this.