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March 21, 2020

SQUIGGLESMONTHLY

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The Red Thread Lucky Lou

By Robert MacDonald

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FASHIONMONTHLY March 21, 2020

The Red Thread Lucky Lou

By Robert MacDonald

PROLOGUE Tuesday after supper he drove his car to the church, turned the motor off and sat there.

Just weeks after his prognosis.

There are no lights on in the main sanctuary.

He’s relieved. He can get the hell out of there. Then he sees a light at the side door.

Someone peeking their head out as if they are expecting him.

“Damn!” he thinks.

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!1 A small woman - she’s got to be in her seventies, but still trim, buttoned up tight in a pant suit - is marshalling chairs in a circle around a table. The place has a damp, musty carpet smell of religion about it. He used to believe. It’s up in the air now. His faith in anything.

“Dr. West send you?” “Welcome”, she says. “I’m Helen.” “Helen McKinnon.”

Then she points to a man sitting limply, eyes

Squiggles 3

downcast. No expression. “My husband Jim.” The man smiles bleakly, his hand shaking to beat the band as he offers it in greeting. !2 Helen picks up a marker pen and name tag that says “Hello I’m …”, preprinted.

“Name’s Lewis. Lewis with an “e’”.

Just looking at this fellow is like looking at his future. He wants to turn on his heel and leave.

Helen is making a big fuss setting up. She upsets the donation can, by accident. A few coins hit the floor and roll away.

“Sorry about that” she says. She’s got that Brit accent, and is picking up the coins that !3 fell. Obviously doing this whole schlick for her husband. Devoted.

Others are drifting in - and drifting is a good word for it. They’re shuffling, speaking quietly, a Parkinson’s trait. And staring. A lot of staring. Checking out who’s worse.

Or who’s not so bad.

Helen doesn’t waste any time. She knows it’s in short supply. “The topic tonight is ‘Advances in Research’”, she says.

Indicating a pile of pamphlets on the table.

“Sounds promising”, Lewis thinks. Knowing any little bit of hope is precious. !4 A pasty-faced woman with too much makeup, starts to sniffle, as if something is caught in her throat. She is sitting off-kilter in her chair, as if she is in a strong wind. “My husband wants a divorce”, she blurts out.

Full out sobbing now. Her thin chest heaving. “He’s met someone. I can just tell.

I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Helen hugs her, briskly, efficiently. It’s probably in her instruction manual.

Lewis stands, his eyes intent on the door.

“It’s now or never.” And the meeting hasn’t

even begun. !5 “Oh, yes”, Helen says. Not missing a beat.

“Let me introduce our newcomer tonight.”

“Lewis….”

“Lewis with an ‘e’”, her husband adds.

With a raspy laugh.

“Tell us something about yourself, Lewis with an ‘e’ “ she says.

He’s caught now. “I’m tired. I wake up tired - can’t focus. My legs are tired. Weak. But I guess you all can relate to this.” !6 Everyone nods. And for some reason, he feels angry at the whole lot of them. The ‘Circle of Bobbling Heads’.

A fellow named Jeff, his head jerking mightily and body twitching as he speaks, asks brightly “Have you been to the University Research Centre?”

“No. I go next week,” says Lewis, his voice seeming overly-loud. “How about you?

Have you been there?”

“I went last year,” almost in a whisper. !7 “I’m too young for this crap,” says Lewis.

“I just want my life back.”

Lewis knocks into his chair, clumsily, as he heads for the door, with that slap-footed gait of his. There’s whispers behind him, but he’s not looking back. “Screw them.”

Helen follows him to the door. “Lewis, we all want our lives back.” !8 Three night’s dishes in the sink, crumbs from last night’s peanut butter sandwich on the counter, piles of handwritten notes, journals and a mountain of paper clutter on the table.

There’s barely room for his coffee mug. He slips on his navy cardigan, wool-lined slippers. There is a chill in the air.

Lucky Lou knows his routine by heart – there’s a deep sigh of satisfaction from under

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the covers as he heads out the door. “There he goes. But he’ll be back”. The long corridor to the elevator is silent at this time !9 of the morning, so he can hear his own slow progress, a shuffle, drop foot that slaps the floor – ka-schunk, ka-schunk.

The dining room’s 1 floor down, the lounge adjacent. The night shift worker sometimes nods off for a bit then makes the first pot of coffee at 5 a.m. It’s sort of a cat and mouse game they play, to see if the care aide’s awake or if Lewis slept in. He can tell by the way the creamer and cups are laid out who is on that night but this morning it’s a mystery – the dishes look like the tail end of a lively picnic. !10 There’s a shape in the recliner alright, wrapped in a blanket but the form has braids.

Lewis is startled to see her there. It’s Nicole.

His favourite. Usually on the day shift. She must have been called in to cover for someone. She senses his prescence and leaps out of the chair.

“Geez!” she mutters embarrassed. “You scared me. Is anything wrong?”. Lewis motions with his hand “Sorry, stay put. I’ll put the coffee on”. Even though it’s against the rules Lewis has earned several privileges.

Nicole mumbles “Ok”. She rolls over trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep. She’s probably exhausted from one of those crazy !11 cycling trips. How she finds the energy, after leaving the rig-a-ma-roll of giving pills and making beds to pedal anywhere beat him.

But he likes to think of her in high gear always game to take something on. It doesn’t hurt to think.

He once asked her about the braids.

Thought she was Swedish. Wrong kind of braids she said laughing, “I’m half

Cherokee”. It was her eyes that confused him. Crystal blue, always looking straight through him or that’s how it seemed. He felt totally stupid but she didn’t’ hold it against him. !12 She was almost restrained verging upon shy in her day to day duties compared with others who might seem bossy or more takecharge . But she wasn’t as innocent either he figured. Had some life story to her. I mean she had 2 kids. But he keeps his interest in Nicole to himself. It’s hard to maintain any kind of privacy in this place. ….a small community of 160 suites where he’s a resident. Everybody is older than him by a stretch, everybody into everybody else’s business.

He takes a few steps before heading back.

He’d like to bring Nicole a cup; it would seem too intimate however, but watches her !13 face at rest, with those lovely high cheek bones he’ll let her sleep. He has the top corner suite on the 3rd floor, no one on 3 sides, and with that extra window feeling larger than the others he calls it the Penthouse. Lucky Lou, his Jack Russell, bounces off the bed at his return. She stretches with that screeching yawn she has expecting to be fed. She’s so smart she probably knows it’s Sunday; the aroma of sizzling bacon soon. The cook always saving a strip or 2 for Lucky.

He stares out of the window to the darkness.

The cook will be in early to help unload the food order twice a week. A semi arrives at !14 the back of the building, the silence broken by the huff and puff of air brakes. It’s a tricky angle to negotiate, and new drivers often hit the building. That’s the only bit of

FASHIONMONTHLY March 21, 2020

excitement around this place.

Every day it’s the same like a scene from the movie ‘Groundhog Day’ (without the funny parts). He has a small dog for company and is grateful for it (which feels pathetic somehow). And the way the place looks, a real shambles with all the newspapers and manuscripts spread out on every surface, even the floor. !15 He wants to finish his novel, thinks maybe he can find a signal or a sign in the writing that will free him up again. All his life he has been the comeback kid failing high school English, then writing for a newspaper.

Building a business from scratch against the odds. He’s been a go-getter relying on his wits. Determined. He turns to the dark glass

of the window and sees himself in the mirror heavier, Friar Tuck like, unshaven.

Holding a book given to him by an old lady at Church years ago, still unread. He’ll do it

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one shelf at a time. Clean up this clutter.

Finish something. And start something new.

He will become his own door, he thinks. !16 And he thinks again of Nicole. Probably up and bustling by now. Doesn’t hurt to think.

The phone rings. “Hello, Orvar.” He calls him as he leaves his garage in his luxury SUV with a hands-free phone. Exactly at 7:40 a.m. everyday. Like clockwork.

“Are you finished yet?” Orvar’s tone is condescending.

He’s a Prairie redneck, transplanted to the West Coast. Thinks Lewis has become too ‘airy fairy’. Razzes him about his writing.

Doesn’t have a clue. !17 “Still working on it. I have enough for three books. It helps the chatter in my mind helps me organize my thoughts.”

“Which reminds me. Gotta go.” “How’s Eva and the kids?”

Orvar, married, house, two cars, a goldfish in the bowl for the brats, healthy cash flow.

And he’s healthy. Big bonus. He’s a man of substance. But unhappy. He’s always ranting about his marriage. Some little titfortat.

“Still working on it.” Orvar says, cut short.

Sounding wounded. !18 “Serves him right”, Lewis thinks. “He’s not supposed to call in the morning, when I’m scribbling. But he does anyway. He’s stubborn in that way.”

They’ve been friends for more than fifty years. As youngsters playing in the snow, they built a snow fort, something to do in

Took them the whole weekend. Lewis, smaller than Orvar, made the decision to complete the tunnel. Digging frantically.

Orvar stood watch. Then heard the engine of a dump truck start up. Orvar looked away from the fort for just a minute. When he

!19 looked back, the whole fort collapsed on Lewis, burying him alive. For a grade threeer, it was a mountain of snow. A dot of red, a strand of fiber from the hand knitted red mitts drew Orvar’s eye. He pulled him out to safety. They never can agree on what actually happened.

There’s a click on the line. Silence. ******************** !20 !21 A gentle knock on the door.

He jumps at the sound. Feels guilty reading his horoscope, when he’s procrastinating on his three to four hundred words. More times than not, the fellow who writes for the local paper has been bang-on. It’s been giving him goosebumps. Today it says, “Be careful you might fall. You need to get grounded.

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The whole world seems to be giving way. A Taurus will help you out.”

The sound of keys and the deadbolt releases.

“Don’t turn that big light on.” Lewis says, without looking up. !22 “Don’t touch anything”, Lewis says, as if it’s a crime scene.

“Are we in a bad mood?” It’s a familiar voice, blunt, no nonsense with a bit of laughter thrown into the mix.

He turns quickly and smiles, to see it’s Nicole. She’s fidgeting with her woven saddle-bag purse strapped across her chest.

Pinning her hair up into its knot.

She looks a little out-of-sorts, herself.

“You still here?” “Wow!” “they sure got you working.” !23 She slides open the kitchen drawer. Lays out his morning pills. “They mixed up the scheduling. So I’ve got to cover. It never rains, it pours.” A long sigh. Although she never complains.

Right out of the blue he blurts out “Hey, what’s your sign? Astrology, you know. All that stuff about the stars and the moon in the right place…..”

“An exhausted Taurus”, she says.

Lewis smiles. “go figure”. “My readings said you’d be along.” !24 “And you?”

“A grumpy Cancer”, he says. “We’re intuitive. Over-sensitive.” “Sorry I groused at you.”

“No problem” she says. And she means it.

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There’s only about a dozen years difference in their ages. Nicole can feel Lewis’ attention. It’s sometimes uncomfortable, even awkward, for her. Although they are the perfect match, according to their signs. !25 It’s now 7:05 a.m.

“I’ll leave your 12 o’clock pill out. O.K.?”

Nicole says. “I’ll mark it and leave it on the counter.”

Lewis says, “Did I overhear you have a show at the gallery?” He adds, “Is it this weekend?” “ I wi s h , ” s h e s a y s s a r c a s t i c a l l y.

“No,no,no,no. I just have one of my pieces in the show.”

“I think you should have your own show”, Lewis says. “I feel it. Your pieces are !26 unique, one-of-a-kind. I love your work, the pieces I’ve seen, anyway.” He smiles.

Blushing at the unexpected compliment, Nicole hurries out the door, leaving her keys in the drawer. A second or two later, she comes back in, smiles at Lewis and says “duh!”.

“Oh, by-the-way”, Nicole says, “I’d be willing to give you a hand, organizing and putting your laundry away, after 3:00, tomorrow. If that works for you.

I’m good at that sort of thing.” ….“Still working on that book?” !27 “Don’t ask!” Lewis says.

Nicole stares a hole through Lewis. Takes a deep breath in through her nose and lets it out. Gently closes her eyes and says, “To

thine own self be true. Most people don’t understand an artist’s process. I know. I get it all the time. Particularly with family.”

She smiles. “You’re an artist, Lewis.”

Lewis glances back. “You’re right. Pisses me off when people ask me if I’m finished yet, as if I’m some widget factory.” !28 “Screw ‘em” she says. Nods and scurries out the door.

Lewis gets up and quickly shuffles to the door. Sticks his head out and watches her walk down the hall with perfect posture, as if she’s balancing books on her head.

Holding her charts, she turns and smiles. ***** !29 !30 Lewis hears residents singing as he shuffles into the building, the music’s not from his era. Valentine’s Day. The room is decorated with hearts. Red and white carnations in skinny vases with a pink ribbon tied around them.

Lewis would have no interest in this nonsense except for Nicole showing up in something other than her careworker uniform. He knew she had a real life beyond this place.

Today she is wearing

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jeans, a baby doll blouse with white tennis shoes, as if she just walked out of a flower power !31 rally. Only she could pull it off not concerned about style of the time, just being herself. Fitted to perfection.

Lewis hasn’t forgotten what it’s like to be a boy, younger days still fresh. He sits beside the antique buffet, coffee in hand, blended against a beige wall. He shoots the breeze with Eddie who turned 100 years last month, but still nimble and galloping along.

“That damn food truck hit the building again”. “You’d think they’d have experienced drivers”, Eddie says. !32 “It’s the training route for young drivers” Lewis says tongue in cheek. “My suite is right above the loading dock. It rattled my bed when it hit the building”.

“I looked out it’s the same guy who hit it last week”, Eddie says. “Something needs to be done”.

Lewis takes a sip of coffee. Before putting it down, he sees Nicole walking towards him not in her nursing shoes, but in cute tennis shoes…..

She leans over him taking a drink of water from her bottle, one of those bottles you snap !33 on a bike frame. “Wanna dance, cowboy?”.

“I’d wear you out”, Lewis says. Nicole smirks, daring him to get up and join her.

Strut his stuff. She sways back and forth slowly shifting her body weight from leg to leg. Carefree.

It’s true that at one time he could really strut his stuff, make the ladies sit up and watch him glide across the floor. He used to ooze confidence on the notion of taking a woman in his arms and making all the right moves, but now his heart’s not in it, partly because

of his drop foot and shuffle he doesn’t want to trip her up, be pitted. Act like a fool. And partly it’s because it reminds him of !34 Gabriela, the Spanish dove, as he used to call her. She’s the one who taught him the salsa working only the hips, they’d win competitions, they were in tune. Until they weren’t. Until she packed up and went back to El Salvador.

Nicole still standing there not taking no for an answer “I used to own the floor” he says his voice thickening with regret. “And now I’m just renting”. “One step at a time….. “I think I’ll take a pass”. !35 “No worries” Nicole says taking the pressure off. “I’ll catch you later”. ***

** The buds on the trees are starting to bloom after six months of rain.

Lucky comes over and stares at Lewis. He tries to ignore her, but she’s locked on.

Probably bored. He feels her penetrating eyes. Slams his pen down ….. !36 “What!?” “Do you want out?” “Gotta go out?” “What’s the matter?” Her tail speeds up, then stops, just stares. Then a loud

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screeching bark. “Ruff ruff, ruff ruff.” And slams her paws, like peg legs, into his body.

Jumping. And then laying back on the ground, whimpering, ears pirked. Then silence.

“You’re acting psycho again.” “Go lie down in your bed,” he says firmly, pointing to it.

But she refuses to. Staring, tail pointed up, alert.

The lights flicker on and off, “Not the power”, Lewis says. “Damn! That’s all I !37 need. Blow my hard drive. Lose all my work.”

Lewis smells something burning. “Someone down the hall burning their toast?” It happens all the time.

Lucky runs back and forth to the door, barking frantically. Lewis says “Settle down. “You’ll wake everybody up. Shhshhh.” But she doesn't.

Another whiff. Like rubber burning …. distinctive …. Electrical? !38 “The damned fire alarm is going to go off any minute,” he says to himself.

He hears the mechanism in his door click in, and then the strobe light for the hard-ofh e a r i n g a n d f i r e a l a rm g o o f f , simultaneously. It’s unbearable. He must leave.

His swivel chair and desk start to move; there is a tinkling noise like glasses tapping together at a wedding; car alarms start to go off in the neighbourhood. His hanging lamp in the dining room, sways. Then “b o o m”, like a bomb. From the street. !39 “Shit!” “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Power flickers back on. Then completely out. A picture and flower vase on top of the fridge, smash to the floor. Glass everywhere.

Lewis maintains his balance, but walks like a

drunken sailor. Then a rumble. The building shakes back and forth as he heads to the door.

“EARTHQUAKE!! EARTHQUAKE!!”

Lucky barks hysterically as if she sees a ghost is in the room. Lucky stays close to !40 Lewis. Ears pinned back, she stands by Lewis’ side.

A deep crackling sound outside that raises the hair on his arms. Straight through the building. Like a knife cutting a cake in two.

The whole building shakes.

Lewis grabs his wallet and jacket. Snaps Lucky’s leash on her harness and heads towards the door. Lucky continues to bark.

A high-pitched bark that will wake anybody up. Lewis can’t control her anymore. He lets her go and she runs like a Greyhound in a race, flying down one of the secondary !41 hallways to the very end. In full flight. On a mission!

Lucky stops at Dorothy’s suite. Like she does every morning. For a treat. It’s imprinted. But Dot’s not quite up yet.

Lucky slams herself against the door, sniffing at the crack, then a high pitched bark. She knows Dot’s in there.

Dot is completely deaf, without her hearing aides in. Lucky stands at her door, barking in a high pitched tone, aggressively, jumping up and down at the handle. Boing. Boing.

Boing. !42 Lewis shuffles down the corridor, yelling at Lucky. “Come, Lucky, Come”. He gets halfway down the hall and Lucky comes running back. Like she would on a trail walk in the woods. Goes 25 feet ahead, stops, looks for approval, and then comes running back.

“Grab your walker, Dot . Let’s go!” “Use

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your walker’, says Lewis.

Crackling concrete and tremours make it impossible to keep their balance.

Lewis looks down the hall and watches a huge crack open up in the wall and the whole !43 hallway looks like an aluminum can that’s slowly being twisted.

Lewis hears other residents’ weak screams.

He shuffles down the hallways as fast as he can, holding on to the handrails mounted in the halls. Yelling “STAND IN THE DOOR FRAMES!” “GET UNDER A TABLE!” “BRACE YOURSELVES!” “HOLD ON!” “EARTHQUAKE!” Nicole, running as she fields calls from residents pressing their emergency buttons, “YES, YES, I’m Coming. Get out of the building.” “Get out.” “I’m helping other residents right now.” !44 “Lewis”, Nicole yells, “everyone’s hitting their alarm buttons on my internal phone,” “YES, YES, I’m coming! I’m coming! Get out of the building! Get out!”

“Where’s the frickin’ Staff! …. Where’s the nurses? Lewis says.

Residents rushing frantically to the Lounge in front of the elevator, but the elevator is shut off. Residents with walkers, canes and wheelchairs, all looking to him for answers.

“Who’s missing?” !45 Nicole flings open the door, which leads to Complex Care, separated by a stairwell. A few women trying to make their way down, have fallen.

Nicole yells “Lewis, get everybody together.

Let’s go! We’ve got to move fast here.”

One lady who has dementia, looks terrified,

tears in her eyes and whimpers, “Do you know who I am? What do I do?” “What’s going on!”

Lewis says “Yes, I know you.” Takes her by the hand and says “Everything’s O.K.”, in his deep, calming voice. !46 Lewis guides her to the lounge area and sits

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her down. Lucky distracts her for another moment and she starts to breathe again.

Nicole orders residents, like a mother hen taking charge. “Stay together!” “If you can, help your neighbour.” “Hold their hands while walking with them.”

Lucky has her eyes locked on Lewis and is ready for action. Her calming effect on residents is a good distraction. The residents know Lucky and pet her. Lucky moves around the room, visits each one, in turn. !47 “Phones not working, cell phones are down and all digital devices, out”, Nicole says.

Eddie, a 100-year old veteran. Went back to his room and grabbed his old windup portable radio and a pocket transistor radio, and threw a few batteries in his jacket.

Eddie always surprises everyone. Dapper, intelligent, no lazy brain here. He was a procurement officer in WWII. He knew how to get things, a mind like a steel trap. Like Radar, from Mash. Invaluable in trouble, a problem solver.

Lewis hears the sound of a chopper. Moving fast. Looks out the window in the hallway. !48 Turning his head from side-to-side. Looking up sees a yellow Coast Guard helicopter zooming by. Then another. Stares a second more and realizes the huge Douglas fir tree that everyone complained blocked the view, is gone. Not there! Instead, a small mountain appeared out of nowhere. Taller than the building. Like looking at the lawn on its side.

“Lewis!” “My boys?”, Nicole says, as they stare at each other. “I’m worried.”

Lewis not missing a beat, says, “They’ll make it. They’re tough.” !49 Nicole says “Why aren’t these helicopters

stopping. They’re flying right over us!”

Lewis says “They must have a reason.”

“You know, priorities.” “All we can do is the next thing indicated.” “We’re no good to anybody else if we can’t keep it together.”

“We’ve got to find a way out. Ourselves.”

“Nicole, the ones who can go down the staircase, get them moving.” “The other ones, I’ll keep them calm.”

With tears in her eyes, Nicole stammers “some residents, their bones are too fragile.

They won’t make it.” !50 Lewis grabs Nicole by the shoulders. “Pull yourself together. Let’s go.” “They need us. Talk to them, just be with them. Hold their hands.”

Lewis opens the door to the back staircase.

Bodies everywhere, up and down the stairwell. Trying to crawl down. Grimaces of pain. Begging for help. Walkers stacked in the corner. He touches the arm of a man.

“Ou-u-u-!” He leaves him. “I’ll be right back”, he says. “ Must get help.”

The clock on the wall stopped at 7:34 a.m.

Thirty minutes after a shift change. !51 Lewis turns the corner. Eddie’s halfway down the hall. “Did you hear more news on that radio!”.

“No - no - not-not go-g-good”, Eddie stutters, trying to hold it together. The fear of God in his face. … “Ha-Half of the WeWest Coast i-i-is ripped open like a z-z-zzipper pulled across it. Tsunamis e-e-everywhere.

N-n-n-no ferries. N-n-n-no help.

C-cu-cut off.”

“Stay tuned-in,” Lewis says. Let me know when you get something new. Keep ‘er !52 cranked up.” “We’ve got to stick together.

Don’t go far.”

HUGE crevasses everywhere.”

“Houses disappearing. Gone. People heading to High School. Makeshift Command Centre there. Communications being set up. Food, blankets, Doctors.”

Nicole says “We’re taking the residents down the staircase. Even if they crawl or we have to drag ‘em down. We can’t wait. Grab some sheets.” !53 Eddie says, “I’ll get ‘em,” grabs a walker.

Snaps his cane to the frame. Heads back down the hallway, shuffling in and out,

grabbing water, juice, crackers, cheese, until the basket is full. Sheets and quilts on top.

Nicole comes back from running up the stairwell. “One of the girls says there’s a raging fire in Complex Care. Staff trying to put it out.”

Lewis says “I smell smoke. No water.

Sprinklers not on.”

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!54 Lewis starts heading down the stairs with residents, one-by-one. “We’ll help each other”, says Lewis.

Nicole, out of breath running up the stairs, flings open the door.

“BOOM!” A cylinder comes shooting through the wall from Complex Care, like a cruise missile.

The shock drops Nicole to the floor. Dazed.

Then an implosion. A shockwave. A nightmare unfolding before her eyes. The ground under the building giving way. !55 Transformers, outside, blowing up like bombs.

A rumble from underneath the building. The sound of thunder coming from underneath.

Without warning … the ground collapses under her feet. The earth opens up, swallowing the building.

Falling, like a roller coaster, down. The building tilted. And split in two.

One section collapsed completely, but ours laid on its side, in tact. The roof on top of us crumbled like peanut brittle. Concrete beams, steel studs, and the snapping sound of plywood, two-by-fours, come flying through, !56 sheets of drywall ripped apart like pieces of

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***** !57 !58 Nicole can be heard above the moans and screams. “Lewis! Cover your mouth. Grab a towel, a rag, something. Just cover your mouth and nose to breathe.”

Half the building sunk into a monster crevasse and settled two hundred feet below.

Broken. Edges of the ground like quicksand and chunks of earth around the sides keep falling off and filling the hole.

Lewis grabs onto Lucky’s empty leash.

Lucky’s gone. “Lucky, Lucky!” he yells.

Then whistles. “whit-whit.” “Come. Lucky.

Come!” !59 The dead silence creates an eerie feeling.

Darkness and a drywall soot in the air.

Coughing.

“I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.” A faint voice from the darkness.

Lewis, throat dry and coughing, “Eddie, Eddie, is that you?”. Nothing.

Then Nicole, “Eddie, Eddie, are you there?”.

Stumbling, Lewis finds a wingback chair, then another. Lewis feels his way around the dark, the floor surface changes from carpet to a rubberish texture. A few more feet and !60 he feels iron bars tight together, the outside balcony rails. Only balconies have rubber mats and heavy iron railings. Iron is good.

Sewer smell. Dampness. Fills the air. The smell of gas is overwhelming.

Lewis looks up, sees a different shade of darkness. What looks like stars in the heavens, through the dust fog.

Climbing, at a 45 degree angle, on what was the floor, he tries to get up, but his legs, shaking, take two or three tries. Debris lays on top of him. The fowl smell of sewer.

Then “sh-sh-sh” like a river bursting through !61 the earth, forcing its way through the darkness below. Groundwater. Picking up speed. Disoriented water. Leaving pockets, small caves ….. from the rain, runoff.

Louder. Louder. A gusher.

He yells out for Lucky. No reply. Hears another helicopter flying overhead. Crawls with his upper body towards the daylight.

“Nicole, Nicole.” “The choppers aren't stopping.”

“Stop saying that!…. We don’t know what’s going on up there,” Nicole says. !62 Lewis yells, “Nicole. Can you climb up here? Make your way?” She’s no more than twenty-five feet.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I can make it”, Nicole says.

Lewis says, “YOU’RE GONNA MAKE IT!” “GRAB ON!” Nicole pushes herself over debris, using it to kick off, move forward. !63 Nicole’s voice, closer and louder now.

“Lewis. Lewis.” Then a whimper. “M-m-mm.”

“I’ve got her.” Nicole says. “Stay.”

Cowering and trembling, Lucky nudges him with her nose, then snuggles her body against him. Whimpers and licks his face.

She is covered in dust, but seems O.K. She won’t leave his side.

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trying to climb out.”

“Is that you, Dot?” Nicole says, the voice sounding familiar. !64 “All those exercise classes paying off”, Dot says.

Lewis calls back, “Hold on. Stay put.”

“Lewis,Lewis”, in a deep soft voice, no louder than a whisper.

“Is that you, Eddie?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Are you O.K.?” !65 “Not really. Out of breath. Wheezing. Ahahah…. Need my puffer.” I’m out of breath,” he says very slow and weak.

“You tough old bugger. Can you get anything on that radio?”

“I’m trying,” Eddie whispers. “Hold on, hold on. Okay – got something. They’re calling it the Cascadia – it runs from Cape Mendocina, in California. We caught the tail end – Seattle’s almost gone. Thousands ….

Eddie’s gasping on the outbreath. He’s almost a goner without his puffer. !66 “Don’t talk,” Lewis says.

But Eddie persists, like the old war hero he is. “The mayor’s on – he croaks. Three s e c t ions of town gone , l ands l ide s everywhere.”

“I think our best bet is to move towards the elevator,” Lewis says. “Strong part of the building, some air down the shaft maybe.

Let’s go”. He’s suddenly taking charge, and liking the feeling.

The five, including Lucky, hunker down, Dorothy propped up against the wall. She’s

pooped, you can tell. “Exercise classes coming in handy,” she says. !67 They all laugh, but there’s a feeling of uncertainty, as walls crack and ceilings fall.

Collapsing all around them.

Nicole’s the first to notice; there’s blood pooling in the grit below Dot. “I think you’re hurt, Dot. Let me take a look,” Nicole says.

“We finally got lettuce on those turkey sandwiches, didn’t we?” Dot replies, as though she hasn’t heard. “I’m grateful for that.” !68 Eddie pulls out a bottle of water from his jacket. Extends the water to Dot. Dot perks up. “Oh, I have cookies, almost forgot.” She pats her pocket; she keeps them there for Lucky.

Something moves across the floor and before anyone can see what it is, Lucky has it in her mouth. One fling, one shake, and it’s dead.

Lucky standing guard over it.

They all stare at the dead rat, saying nothing.

“Must have been the cookies,” Eddie says.

“I’ve lost my appetite,” he adds with a wince. !69 Lewis is wondering whether they had rats in the building all along, or whether it’s an ominous sign of things to come.

“It was just trying to survive,” Dot says.

Lucky shows her teeth when Lewis grabs the creature with the cookie bag, turned inside out. Lots of practice with a poop bag, he says.

“It’s an interesting life I’ve lived,” Dot says,

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“Me too,” Eddie says. !70 “Shhh, listen!” Lewis says. Noises from above, far away voices echo down the shaft.

It’s hard to say whether it’s someone trapped, or rescuers. Dot hasn’t heard a thing, and she’s leaning over, sliding down the wall, finally hits the prone position with a thump.

Nicole feels for a pulse; but her eyes give it away.

“It’s fast and faint,” she says. Not a good sign.”

Meanwhile Eddie’s rasping like a train on a steep incline. !71 Nicole’s got watery eyes, as she stares at the darkness. “Do you believe, Lewis? You know, in life after death, all that stuff?”

‘I don’t know anymore. Went to church on Sunday, even studied theology – was a good Catholic boy once. All I know is it’s a long time on earth, if it’s for nothing.”

How does the spiel go before you die, the socalled Act of Contrition? The thing you say before you die, and then you’re covered, you’re in …?

“Oh My God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee and I detest all my sins.…” !72 “I forget the rest. I guess it’s Purgatory for me,” Lewis says. ”Sort of like that old girlfriend I had, who said, ‘if you prove to me in six months, quit drinking, work real hard, then maybe….’ ” “I’ve been proving it and proving it, raising the two boys by myself, …” Nicole counters.

Lewis feels like a shmuck for having raised a prickly subject. “You’ve earned your wings,” he says, … Ding, ding, ding.”

He doesn’t need to explain it. Nicole pipes up – “That’s my favourite Christmas movie.

Good old Jimmy Stewart …”

!73 “I played Clarence once … in a play,” Lewis says. “I had to pretend to be wiser than I was.”

“I can’t sit here doing nothing,” Nicole adds after a silence. “I’m going back to try and grab the bag I dropped. What you call my peace-love bag – I had water, snacks, some first aid stuff” She lies on her back, puts both legs up against the pile of debris and pushes. Lewis slides a bar of metal under a 2 X 4, and tries a little leverage. The pile shifts and there’s a shudder. !74 “Jesus, Nicole, get back,” Lewis warns. But she’s already crawling through a small opening beside a twisted iron railing.

“I’m good,” she says, “I can smell fresh air, I swear it.”

And then there’s a god-awful sound, like a heavy deck of cards, falling. And falling.

And a voice that sounds like Nicole’s.

Screaming, and then sounding foggier and faint. Far away. She’s buried, somewhere beyond him.

Nicole, Nicole? Are you okay? Are you there? !75 Lewis grabs a stick of wood and bangs on a steed stud that’s staring him in the eye. Bang bang, bang bang.

Eddie says, in a small, peaked voice, “That’s not Morris code, that’s not the right message.”

Lewis is panicking now, throwing things left and right, a whole wall seems to have collapsed. He’s thinking he might have caused it, made it happen.

“Hey take it easy down there,” someone says. “How many are you? We’re going to get you out!” !76

The voice gets louder, and there’s suddenly an opening, beam of light through the dust.

Two men suspended in the shaft, on ropes, wearing high-powered lights on their helmets. It’s blinding after they’ve been in the dark.

“Four and a dog,” Lewis says. “One out cold, and another buried – just now.” Lewis is shaking so badly just thinking about Nicole, he’s in a cold sweat. “And one guy needs his puffer. Barely holding on,” he adds. !77 “I’m dropping down a bag. A light, an inhaler, some water. And masks – put them on, you’ll breathe better. Name’s Tommy,” he says. “We’ll be right back …..to get you all out.”

The ground starts shaking as Lewis crawls over to Eddy, gives him a little squirt of the inhaler. “When we get out, we’re going to have steak and eggs, …But bring your puffer, okay?”

He’s trying to crack a joke but there’s no laughing from Eddy. Just a wheezing sound as he tries for air. !78 It’s taking forever to get those guys down here. Lewis crawls back to where he last saw Nicole shimmy through the debris. He shouts for her again, shines his light up against the mountain of rubble. Lucky’s sniffing the ground, scratching and clawing. She’s pawing at something. Lewis sees a scrap of woven material, a strap – oh my god, it’s her hippy bag, with the colourful Mayan design.

He sees a red thread and follows it …

He moves a few rocks, and then everything shifts and settles in a new pattern. He can see her now; she’s in a pocket, somewhat protected between a couple of bent railings.

Her shoulder’s crooked, her head at an odd !79

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angle. Eyes closed, not saying a thing. Not moving.

He grabs hold of her head, and holds her neck on either side. He saw this in a movie, how you keep someone from breaking their neck, making things worse.

She’s cool to the touch, doesn’t flutter an eye.

Lewis hasn’t said a prayer in years. But he’s bargaining now, hedging his bets. He says he’ll give anything just to have her back. !80 Tommy’s finally dangling in the shaft, and another guy drops to all fours, crawls toward Nicole.

“Careful, just be careful. Her head, her back – I’ve been holding her still, ” Lewis hisses.

“We got it, we’ll keep her steady –“ Tommy says. Lewis can hardly bear to watch as they shift the piping and plaster, find the rest of Nicole, one of her pantlegs soaked in blood.

They edge her onto a stretcher, and he’s barking orders at them to be careful, to not be so rough – he can’t help himself. They have to pulley her up at an angle and the !81 whole time she’s being lifted, Lewis can’t help thinking they’ll drop her.

“Hey,” Tommy says, “she’s a good friend, eh?”

“You betcha. I’d marry her if I could …”

“No worries, we’ll take care of her. And stay cool, you’re shaking like a leaf. We’ll be back in a bit.”

He doesn’t want to tell the fellow that he always shakes, except today it’s worse. He hasn’t had his meds, and he made a plea bargain with the guy upstairs. !82 !83 Of course Lucky thinks the whole schtick of being lifted in a harness is just too exciting; she almost wriggles out of the makeshift