The black-and-white, lights and sirens, was racing up the Embarcadero from the south, responding to a request for back-up from units assisting the fire department with blazes sparked by the earthquake. They had just passed the Bryant Street intersection when the car started to list heavily to the right, the driver fighting for control.
"Damnit!" the young patrolman behind the wheel yelled, "we got a flat!" He yanked the wheel to the right and stood on the brake, sliding the large sedan to the curb.
"No, we don't!" his older partner yelled over the wailing siren. "It's an aftershock!" The car, though stopped, continued to rock. "You've never been driving during a 'quake, have you?" He laughed mirthlessly. "That's what happens when you're in a car - makes you think you have a flat."
Wide-eyed, the driver glanced across the front seat. He opened his mouth to reply then froze, staring out the windshield towards the water. "Holy shit! It's gone!"
"What's gone?" The sergeant squinted through the window, seeing nothing but a black void between them and the illuminated Bay Bridge just up ahead.
"The warehouse, Sarge, the warehouse! The one the homeless use…? Where the f# k it is?" He looked at his partner whose eyes widened slowly.
"Holy shit…" the older man echoed, reaching for the mic as if in a trance, the horrific implications starting to sink in.
# # # # #
Mike had let go of Bobby's hand and pulled his arm back into the chamber, the sudden movement sending white hot shards of pain shooting up his left arm from his broken wrist. Wincing and gritting his teeth, he put his right hand on the top of the fedora, his elbow over his face in what he knew would be a futile attempt to protect his head if the aftershock brought everything crashing down. And for several terrifying seconds it felt like that was exactly what was going to happen.
The shaking finally stopped. Relieved that the debris over his head had remained where it was, he could smell and feel the fine concrete dust drifting down once again and groped around in the dark for the fallen hanky. Finally finding it, he raised it with a trembling hand and covered his nose and mouth, trying to control the shaking, mostly from fear he knew, that was wracking his entire body. He tried to move his legs again and still couldn't, but the pressure hadn't increased, he was relieved to discover.
He started suddenly, turning his head to the right. "Bobby!" he yelled towards the small opening he had dug. There was no response.
# # # # #
Everyone had been jarred off their feet, spread-eagling over the uneven debris as they tried to ride out the aftershock, silently praying that the huge pile of rubble would stabilize underneath them. It lasted for about fifteen seconds, but it seemed to go on forever.
When the roar finally faded away, there was a momentary shocked silence; Neil was the first one to scramble back to his feet. He took a step towards Steve, who was still sitting with his eyes closed, fighting the pain in his back and hip that was making itself known again, and extended his hand. Sensing the presence, the young cop opened his eyes.
Neil smiled. "Come on, we still got work to do if we want to find that partner of yours."
Steve caught his breath then a small grateful smile curled the corners of his lips and he nodded, taking the outstretched hand and getting slowly and cautiously to his feet, trying not betray his discomfort. He wasn't successful.
Neil, not letting go of Steve's hand, took a step closer. "Are you okay? Do you want me to help you down?" He nodded in the direction of the parking lot, where he knew the survivors were congregating.
The grateful smile got a little wider and the detective shook his head. "I'm fine," he assured, consciously using Mike's favourite evasive term, then paused, realizing the LTD was in the lot. He started to look in that direction then froze. Though he didn't hear a siren, he could see the flashing red and blue lights of what he knew was an SFPD patrol car speeding towards the warehouse. His heart started to pound, this time in relief: someone now knew what was happening here. He nodded in the direction of the lights and Neil followed his gaze.
"Finally," the guard breathed, looking at the cop with a flicker of hope reflected in his eyes.
"Hey, over here!" someone yelled from nearby, and they turned to see a couple of people kneeling in the rubble several yards away, frantically digging.
As they started in that direction, Neil looked over at the slow-moving young white man struggling to hide his distress, and frowned. "I'm gonna keep an eye on you," he said pointedly, "and when I think you're done, you're outa here. You understand me?"
There was an ultimatum in his tone that was unmistakable and, for a split second, Steve could hear his partner's voice and it almost made him smile. Instead, he nodded placatingly.
"Good," Neil growled as they joined the others, forming a human chain to quickly move the roofing material in the hope they could free another trapped soul.
# # # # #
"Bobby!" Mike called again, ignoring he pain in his left wrist as he moved as quickly as he could to shove his right arm back into the tunnel. "Bobby!" He stretched his fingers out as far as he could, reaching around, trying to touch the young man but finding nothing. "God damn it!" he muttered under his breath as he pressed his shoulder as deep into the tunnel opening as he could, straining to feel anything except rubble and floor. "Bobby!"
Suddenly fingers grabbed his own, squeezing gently, and he heard coughing. He froze, listening, wrapping his own fingers around the others, trying to breath silently through his open mouth as he strained to hear the other man.
The fingers tightened slightly again and the coughing slowed. "I'm here, Mike…." There was heavy, pain-filled breathing. "I'm here…"
Mike squeezed the hand gently. "Good… good…" he responded softly, the relief evident in his voice. He shook the hand softly. "Are you okay?"
There was a long, frightening pause, then a soft, "Yeah… yeah, I'm okay…"
Mike knew he wasn't. "Good…" he said gently, his fingers massaging the young man's hand soothingly.
"Are you okay?" The question was almost whispered but he could hear genuine concern in the tone.
The older man smiled. "Yeah… yeah, I'm fine…. Just a little dustier," he said with a chuckle and was relieved to hear a soft amused snort in return.
After a couple of silent seconds, each man dealing with their own concerns but still maintaining that much-needed contact, Mike allowed himself to lie back, his head on the floor, staring the 'ceiling' he still couldn't see, and tried to slow his pounding heart.
# # # # #
He was at the end of the human chain, helping to toss the chunks of roof and small blocks of concrete over the side and as far away from what was left of the building as possible. More people joined them until the area was crawling with good samaritans trying to locate the trapped, the injured and the dying beneath their feet.
He'd kept an eye on the parking lot, his spirits rising somewhat as more and more vehicles started arriving; most were cop cars, he knew, but there had been a couple of fire engines. He'd even seen a large truck hauling a long flatbed carrying a small crane and a front-end loader.
Slowly but surely, it seemed, help was on the way.
He had begun to stiffen up, frighteningly so, but trying not to let it show. Leaving the actual digging to those more physically capable at the moment, he continued to help remove debris. They had found another two women and three children alive in the rubble, and four more bodies, by the time several firefighters began to climb the mound of rubble to join them.
The moon had started to set, taking what little light it had shed with it, as the night lengthened, the hunt for survivors and bodies continuing. The headlamps on the firefighters helmets illuminated the gloom as they joined the searchers, expressing concern at the large number of people milling about on the unstable pile and ordering some of them back to ground level, assuring them all that there was plenty of work to do down there now that the heavy equipment had arrived and large chucks of the debris could be moved.
Watching the firefighters take charge of the situation, and more grateful for their appearance that he could express, Steve, who had been sitting down, catching his breath, got slowly to his feet and started towards the smoke eater who had done all the talking. He reached into his right pants pocket and dragged his badge out, flipping it open as he approached. The headlamp blinded him briefly before it dropped down to the badge then snapped back up, a hand coming up to grip his upper arm.
"You look like hell, Inspector," the deep voice said with a gentle chuckle. The lamp flicked briefly down towards the rubble. "Were you in there?" There was genuine concern in the tone.
Trying to smile, Steve nodded as he put the badge back in his pocket. "Yeah… me and my partner."
"Is he okay?"
The battered detective shook his head, brows knit in worry. "I don't know… he was on the ground floor…"
He felt more the saw the firefighter freeze momentarily. "They're, ah, they're working on it now, but it's gonna take time…. We gotta go from the top down…"
"I know." Steve gestured around himself. "We've found some people alive… and, ah, we've got some bodies."
The light danced around the immediate area. "Yeah, ah, I can see that. We'll make sure everybody gets looked after… and more of our guys are on the way."
Steve could feel a presence behind him and knew without looking it was Neil.
"We've got a pretty good team working up here already," the guard offered, almost defensively, and they could see a flash of teeth as the firefighter smiled.
"I can see that too. Don't worry, we're gonna keep using some of you guys up here, if you want -"
"Damn right," Neil interrupted and everybody froze at the vehemence in his voice.
It was the fireman that broke the sudden tension with a chuckle and a nod. "Okay…" The light on the helmet snapped in Steve's direction. "I think you need to let someone have a look at you, Inspector. We've got ambulances arriving -"
"I'm not going anywhere," the detective interrupted.
"I didn't say that," the strong, authoritative voice shot back. "I just want you to have that head of yours cleaned and bandaged -"
"And his leg," Neil's voice overrode and the headlamp dropped, focusing on the bloody left pantleg then snapped back up. "Okay, this is no longer a request, this is an order, Inspector. You're talking to a captain here, and I don't care right now if you're in a different department, you're going to do as I tell you, do you understand?"
There was another tense silence and Steve stared into the fire captain's face, unable to see anything but the bright headlamp but also knowing the eyes were staring back just as forcefully. And if there was one thing he'd learned working with Mike over the past few years, it was not to question authority, especially when it had your best interests at heart.
He nodded once, curtly, then felt the strong hand that was still on his upper arm tighten. "Good. I'll take you down." The light turned on Neil. "If you can show my guys where you're digging…?"
"You got it," the guard agreed readily, glancing at Steve and smiling encouragingly. "I'll see you in a bit," he said, flashing a smile, as he turned and headed back across the rubble.