Personally, I don't think the entire Scavo family has been wiped out. But with the writers' strike, who knows how long until we know for certain? Besides, Marc Cherry (who owns DH, not me) seems to be a bit of a loose canon. So this story is written as if Lynette has lost everything.

Both women, who were sitting on the rubble, turned their heads at the sound, then they looked at each other.

"They're too far away. Rescue trucks can't get through the streets any faster than I can dig down into the basement," said Lynette, her voice resigned. She stood up and frowned at the pain in her lacerated leg.

"But you see, Lynette? They're coming. Even if it takes them some time, they're coming."

"Oh, Mrs. McCluskey. Time is a luxury they," and she pointed down, "don't have." She stretched her hands behind her back and sighed, then turned away to think about what to pick up next. That big chunk of metal's gotta go. And she started prying at it.

But the piece was stuck more firmly than she had imagined. She grunted and pulled. Then she saw Karen next to her, pulling the metal from the other end.

"No, Mrs. McCluskey. I've got it. It's really heavy."

"Don't be stupid, Lynette. I'm hardly an invalid."

"I didn't say that. But your arthritis."

Karen shrugged. "So I have arthritis. I took my medication today. And..." she swore irritably. "That's another reason I have to help you. My pills are under all this. I should have kept some in my pocket. I should always keep some spares on me."

"Just in case we get in a tornado?"

"Don't be a wise guy, Lynette, you know perfectly well..." she stopped and looked at her. Sarcasm was more like the younger woman's style, but Karen worried that it might be a sign of hysteria--inappropriate humor right before a breakdown. But Lynette gazed back at her steadily, eyes clear.

"Don't look at me like that, Mrs. McCluskey. I'm not losing it. I have to cope with this in my own way."

"So? Do whatever you want. It's certainly not my business. And I couldn't care less, either," Karen added, just to hide her embarrassment at showing her concern for Lynette..

Lynette grunted and resumed clearing out the rubble. All the while she prayed, Please, please...Oh please let them be alive...Oh, please...

In the distance, the sirens whined on and on, but never seemed to get any closer. Lynette worked feverishly. She didn't want to stop, even for a moment. She could hear the sounds of her own neighborhood, people opening doors, crashes, screams and cries all around her. Lynette's stomach clenched at the sounds of her friends' shock and dismay as they surveyed the damage left behind, but she couldn't stop to help them. Her family came first. Once she had assured themselves that they were okay, then she could help the others.

"My house! My house! And I just built it, too!"

That was Edie Brit. Lynette wasn't surprised. She knew if she waited long enough she'd hear similar complaints from all her neighbors. But she almost stopped when she heard, most strangely, Gaby comforting Edie.

"Oh, Edie. I'm sorry. But it's only a building. You can always fix it. Just be grateful that you're still alive."

Lynette thought, in a detached sort of way, that she'd have to get the scoop from Gaby of how she wound up with Edie. But that sort of thinking was only a habit. Actually, she didn't really care if Gaby and Edie were friends. Didn't really care if Gaby or Edie were left homeless by the storm, either. And she was so frantic with fear and grief that she didn't even care that she was being self-absorbed. Until she knew her family was alive and safe, she couldn't care less about other peoples' problems. And if they weren't alive...

...She didn't know what she would feel, then.

Karen had paused to look around when she heard her neighbors picking through the debris of their own yards. There were Bree with Orson and the baby--and with Katherine and Adam, too. Weird. Then there was Edie Brit with Gabrielle. That was even weirder. Oh, well. Weird is relative. But she was worried when she saw Lynette, red in the face and driving herself to exhaustion.

"Lynette, why don't you take a break?"

"You know why I can't."

"We can't keep this up forever, you know. We're only human."

"I didn't ask you to help me." Lynette straightened up and looked at her neighbor and her expression softened. "You rest awhile, Mrs. McCluskey. I can do this."

"Then you think you can dig all by yourself?"

"Yes I can. I have to. I can keep digging."

"Well, you're wrong there. I'm gonna help you. Me too."

Lynette started to object, but she saw the stubborn set of her neighbor's jaw.

"Thank you, Mrs. McCluskey."

Karen snorted. "Don't you dare get all mushy on me, or I won't lift a finger." But she fell in beside Lynette.