Charlie swiped at the sweat dripping down his face, coming away with as much moisture as dust streaking his arm. Taking another deep breath, Charlie got another hold on the beam wedged between the door and a bookcase and gave a great heave. Pain shot up his injured arm, causing nausea to swell in his stomach, but he bit it back and tried to pull the beam away from the door. The beam shifted one, two inches, then settled more firmly in the doorway. Charlie let go abruptly, the force sending him back onto the ground. Gasping for breath, Charlie hugged his arm close and bent low, trying to get his heart rate and breathing back under control.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been working; his watch had been broken sometime during the earthquake. In that time, however, he had managed to clear most of the debris around the door, and had created an easier path through the room to Don to check on him. Don still slept on, oblivious to everything going on around him. The bleeding in his skull seemed to have slowed, but his lack of movement worried Charlie. He knew his brother needed medical attention badly, but he just couldn't find a way to get it to him.
A slight rumble began again, causing Charlie to freeze as fear gripped his heart. It lasted only for a couple seconds, but it was enough to remind Charlie of the danger he and Don still faced. Aftershocks were common after large earthquakes, and if another one occurred while they were still trapped down in the basement, there was no telling what might happen to them.
Charlie edged back to his brother and sat down beside him, his good hand gripping Don's. "Hey, Don, you gonna wake up, or are you gonna make me do all the work?"
No response.
Charlie's eyes searched his brother's face, looking for some sign of life. "Don, if you can hear me, please wake up. Please. I want to know if you're okay. Tell me you're okay."
Still no response.
Charlie continued, undeterred. "The door's still blocked, but I'm going to try and get through. It's really our only way out. That beam is in the way, but if I can find some way to jar it loose, then we'd be home free. It'd be a whole lot easier if you hadn't busted your cell phone, but then I probably should have carried mine with me. I-It probably would've broken too . . . anyway, I . . . I should get back to work. You need a doctor, and you're not going to get one if I just sit here all day. B-But anytime you feel like waking up and giving me a hand, feel free, okay?"
Wearily climbing back to his feet, Charlie stumbled back to the door. He had just started to outline a plan in his head when a harsh, choking sound filled his ears and flooded his veins with ice. Whirling around, Charlie ran to his brother's side.
Don was coughing violently, his body racked with spasms. Charlie's hands fluttered around Don, wanting to help soothe him but afraid of hurting him. Tears filled Charlie's eyes at the feeling of helplessness rising within him.
"Come on, Don," he urged, his voice shaky. "It's okay, I'm here. I'm gonna take care of you. I won't let anything happen to you."
The coughing finally subsided, and Don's eyelids began to flutter. Hope rose and lodged somewhere in Charlie's throat. He gripped his brother's hand tightly. "Don? Don, wake up!"
Don's eyes opened to slits, and he squinted at Charlie in confusion. "Ch . . . . Charlie?" he rasped weakly.
Charlie's face broke into a brilliant grin through tears of relief shining in his eyes. "Yeah, Donnie, I'm here."
"What . . . . happened . . .?"
"There was an earthquake, remember?" Charlie asked. "We're stuck in the basement of my building, but help is coming. You gotta stay with me, okay Donnie? Stay with me."
"Head . . . hurts . . ."
"I-I know," Charlie whispered, fighting to keep his fear from showing. "But you're gonna be okay. I promise."
Don studied Charlie's face closely for another moment, then his eyes slid shut. Charlie was immediately alarmed.
"Don?" he asked. "Donnie, no, stay awake. Donnie, open your eyes. You can't go to sleep, you have to stay awake! Donnie!"
It was no use. Don had slipped back under the currents of sleep once more, leaving Charlie feeling more alone than ever. Bowing his head, Charlie allowed the tears to come.
Alan pushed through the slowly growing crowd milling around CalSci, his eyes sweeping from face to face. He barely remembered driving to the campus, his mind swirling with the horrible thought that his sons were trapped, hurt . . . or worse. He prayed that they had just been too caught up in the rescue efforts to remember to call, but with each moment that passed the fear grew.
A fireman intercepted Alan before he could get any nearer to the math building. "Sir, I'm sorry, but no one except rescue personnel beyond this point."
"You don't understand," Alan told him. "My son works in that building. Both him and his brother were in there when the earthquake hit, and I can't get a hold of them."
The fireman's face showed sympathy, but he remained firm. "I'm sorry sir, but I can't let you go. I promise, rescue teams are working on this as we speak. We'll find them."
"But-," Alan protested.
"Kevin!" the fireman called behind him. A second fireman approached the two, looking quizzically from one man to the other. "Please escort this gentleman to where the recovered victims are being taken. His sons are missing and may be among them."
Kevin nodded and turned to Alan. "Sir? If you'll come with me?"
Alan looked at the building, the longing clear on his face, before finally nodding. He had taken a couple steps when the ground began to shake again. Alan stumbled, feeling Kevin grab onto his arm to steady him.
The aftershock lasted longer than the one before it, and had struck with slightly more force. Alan took in the rescue crews drawing back cautiously from the building, then approach it again with some trepidation. He felt sick at heart, and turned to Kevin.
"Please, let me work with the crews," he pleaded. "I worked as a city planner, I could be of some help to you."
Kevin frowned. "Sir-."
"Please," Alan repeated, searching Kevin's face earnestly. "My boys are all I have, and I need to know they're okay. Please."
Kevin stared at him for a long time, thinking about Alan's request. Finally, he nodded.
"All right," he agreed. "I'll let you help, but you stick with me. Do what I say, when I say, and we won't have a problem."
Alan felt gratitude sweep through him, and let it show on his face. "Thank you," he said gratefully.
Kevin smiled faintly. "Let's get you suited up. Come with me."
Charlie cautiously lifted his head as the last tremor faded, the dust still settling around them. Several more things had shifted and fallen loose; namely, another support beam just feet from him and Don. As soon as the tremor had struck, Charlie had dove over his brother, trying to protect Don from anything else that might fall on the hapless agent. Fortunately, nothing had come their way, but he didn't know how long their luck would hold.
Coughing at the thick dust swirling in the air, Charlie stood and edged cautiously to the door. What he found filled him with dismay.
The path he had originally cleared was once again strewn with plaster and pieces from the ceiling. Any hope Charlie had of clearing the way was now crushed.
Tears of frustration rose in his eyes as desperation filled him. How would he find help for Don now? Don needed him . . . and he couldn't help him.
The realization shook Charlie to the core. He stared dumbly at the door, his eyes not really seeing. There was nothing he could do. Nothing, except sit and watch as Don slipped away from him.
An eerie groan from up above drew Charlie's eyes. The very sound turned his insides ice cold.
The ceiling was sagging heavily over them, the remaining support beams barely holding the weight. The groaning he had heard was the protest from the beams still in place. For now, they were holding, but if another tremor struck while they were still trapped, Charlie was certain that they would give.
A fresh wave of panic swept through Charlie, and he began to toss smaller pieces of debris into a pile in the corner of the storage room. He ignored the sharp bursts of pain shooting up his injured arm, choosing instead to work even harder. He couldn't give up. He had to protect Don. He had to protect his brother.
Minutes stretched into hours; how much, Charlie didn't know. The room was eerily silent, with only the occasional moan from the ceiling above keeping Charlie company. Once the smaller pieces of debris had been cleared away, Charlie dragged sections of broken support beams to the door and positioned them on top of the one beam lodged against the door. As an afterthought, he propped larger pieces of plaster and insulation on the floor around the niche he had created. Once finished, Charlie turned and went to Don's side.
Don hadn't revived again, worrying Charlie to no end. His pulse had steadied a little, and the bleeding had slowed some, but Charlie was concerned about possible internal injuries. He hated the idea of moving his big brother, but Don would be safer in the makeshift niche than out in the open. Taking a deep breath, Charlie hooked his hands underneath Don's arms and began to drag him closer to the door.
The going was slow, as Don's dead weight and Charlie's own injury hampered the young man's efforts. Several times, Charlie had to stop and rest, trying to get the nausea in his stomach to settle once more.
As Charlie was finally settling Don on the floor of the niche, Don moaned lightly and turned his head to the side. "Charlie?"
Charlie's heart leapt into his throat. "Don? Don, how do you feel?"
Don's eyes opened slightly. "Like a building fell on me."
Charlie smiled, giddy with relief. "Close enough. Can you stay awake?"
"I'll try." Don grunted as he tried to shift his body, only to have Charlie's steadying hand push him back to the floor. "Are we still in the storage room?"
Charlie nodded. "I can't move the beam out of the way. We're going to have to wait here until the rescue crews can come dig us out."
Don let out a soft grunt of acknowledgement. Charlie settled down beside him, pulling Don into his lap to make him more comfortable. Don blinked up at Charlie, his eyes not quite focused.
"If you want me to stay awake, Buddy, you're gonna have to talk to me," he mumbled.
Charlie frowned at his brother. "Okay . . . how about that equation I was telling you about?"
Don let out a chuff of laughter that turned into a cough. "I thought you wanted me to stay awake."
Charlie, despite himself, grinned ruefully. "Touché. What do you want me to talk about?"
Don thought for a minute. "Tell me something from when I was at the Academy or something. Something you haven't told me about what you did while you were at school."
Charlie sighed, thinking back over the years. "I don't think that'll keep you awake, either."
Don looked up at him. "There must be something you can tell me."
Charlie thought for several long moments. Finally, a slow smile blossomed on his face. "Actually, there is one thing . . ."
"Fire away," Don told him, closing his eyes. He allowed himself to relax, focusing on the soft, gentle tones of his little brother's voice as Charlie launched into a story about a class and some pranks against an unpopular professor.
