A/N: I noticed last week that this story had reached a milestone of sorts: 35,000+ hits. That seems like a lot to me, and it inspired me to finish this first part of a two part update I've been planning since I posted the story's Epilogue.
Plus, I was really missing Sven.
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Part One.
Woodside, c. 1989, October 17
Sookie POV
"YOU in white fur? Just screams gay, I think."
Sven's sour expression showed that he clearly did not agree with my assessment.
We both knew cold, chilly, and damp were synonymous with October nights in San Francisco: warm clothing wasn't optional. However, it was 3:00 in the afternoon, and my husband was already fully dressed for his night out and feeling stubborn about his fur. Game 3 of the World Series might be scheduled for tonight, but Sven couldn't have cared less—mundane sports like baseball never hit his radar.
"I like it. It suits me." Sven announced firmly, as he continued admiring himself from different angles in the full-length mirror hung in our bathroom in the Woodside house.
I was admiring him as well. In gray lambskin leather pants riding low on his hips, he looked far too decadently sensual to walk into our kitchen without incident, let alone the streets in the Castro. And forget being safely released alone into the overheated atmosphere of the City's gay dance clubs. His pecs and abs, molded by the stretchy cornflower blue silk shirt, simply screamed for the attentions of an eager, lascivious touch. He was so exquisitely delicious, and the pleased smile on his face didn't mask the fact that he reveled in the knowledge he was definitely affecting me.
I gave up on pouting, because without the help of his twin, Eric, my protest was doomed to failure. We both knew there was no way I could dissuade my peacock from his night out. But Eric was gone, in the middle of yet another year-long research project, this time in Hawaii. Even our nine-year-old twins were no-shows tonight, Jason and Erin staying in Utah for a week with Grandma Mia.
She too was alone again while Gram Celia and Grandpa Ander were 'exploring caves' in South America. I personally thought that sounded like a euphemism for exploiting the local brothels; Celia was much more liberal than Mia when it came to Ander's explorations of new territory. I just hoped the two of them didn't catch anything nasty and bring it home to share with my favorite in-law.
And really, nearing sixty, how many more years did Ander have left to get it up? At least he was no longer sneaking about on his sexual adventures. Except from my children, thank God.
"Okay, babe, but with the aviator glasses and the braided leather coil looped around your neck like a BDSM advert, your ass might as well have a giant purple bullseye on it if you head into the Castro. Promise you'll stay safe? All the latest HIV research has me frightened that…" I trailed off, that dry mouth fear always on the periphery of my thoughts fully blossoming as I began imagining what would happen if Sven were to become infected.
"Susannah, it is just once every couple of months; you and I agreed that I could do this; that I needed it. We three are all much happier when we take our various 'breaks.' And I'm all prepared to leave now." The pleading note in Sven's rich timbre was apparent. With the dark lenses hiding his eyes, I wasn't certain: was he feeling guilty about leaving me or just eager to be gone and irritated by my questions?
I went on the offensive, again.
Speaking up even as I knew it to be a pointless effort.
"Eric's absences are work-related. Mine are restricted to short term visits with out-of-town family or friends. Yours are casual fucks with strange men. Will you never tire of it…the chase, I mean? I know you won't tire of the random sex." I'd come to the conclusion a few years ago that of the two of them, Sven grew more like his father as he aged. And yet, Mia was also his favorite parent; he was well aware of her exasperation with Ander's exploits. Couldn't he guess that I might share some of her same reactions every so often?
When he didn't respond, I continued with, "Are you headed to The Stud tonight?" It was a notorious gay bar. I'd gone one time with Sven and insisted we leave within thirty minutes, and I wasn't a prude.
"No. Thought I might drop by a new place…The Lone Star Saloon opened, and I haven't been inside yet."
"Some new faces?"
"Some new asses as well, my darling." He teased, grinning openly now, his mood improved as he sensed I wasn't going to argue any longer.
"Why are you leaving so early?"
"Traffic to the City; I'm dropping the car at our condo on Market. Plus, I need to stop by Long's Drugs for supplies..."
I quickly raised both hands, palms out. "Halt. Just don't go there; I don't need any more details tonight."
"You asked," he replied, the petulance in his tone unmistakable.
I stood and swiftly crossed to him, wrapping my arms tightly around his delicious slender waist. A decade after our marriage, he was still as fit and enticing as the day I'd watched him cross the room to ensnare me at the Embarcadero's Elephant Walk bar. He'd always preened more than most men; consequently he was in better physical shape than Eric, although not by much.
"Are you coming back later, or sleeping downtown?"
He twisted around in my embrace to face me, nuzzling the top of my head with his tanned and perfect cheek, hiding his face again. "Do you mind if I stay over tonight?" he asked softly.
Torn, I struggled briefly against the selfish urge to keep him close. There was a crackling intensity in the October air; it wasn't summer, wasn't winter, but just that odd brush of both that characterized Autumn in Northern California cities so close to the Pacific. It left me feeling unsettled, but I wasn't being fair to him.
"I'm not afraid to stay by myself in our house, and I agreed to honor your…choices. I'll be alright."
Having achieved his goal, he pulled gently away, bent around me to grab his Gold's Gym bag, and made to leave.
"Do you love me, Sven?" I asked hesitantly as he nearly sprinted toward the bedroom door and his escape.
He kept moving, waiting until he reached the stairs to the living room before responding, "Always and forever. Never doubt it. You and Eric, both. And our children." And then he was gone, ignoring my parting warning to lose the fur before hitting the gym.
I stood rooted to the carpet as I considered his last words, looking for hidden meanings until the sound of his precious Maserati Spyder's engine from the courtyard intruded on my thoughts. Belatedly, I realized he'd worn the fur against the chill in his convertible.
Why was I always doubting him? It was my flaw, not one of his.
Sighing, I wrapped my arms around my own waist. Two husbands, two children, and I'd still have to sleep with the hounds on the bed if I wanted any measure of body warmth tonight.
I called to our dogs now.
"Leo, Spigot. Come on up, boys." I walked to the top of the stairs and waited. The sounds of their grateful claws scrambling on the kitchen floor drifted up to me as they hurried to take advantage of their good fortune at being allowed upstairs.
The doggies always loved me best. My recently reassumed role of domestic goddess assured them I would never fail to pull out an ample bag of kibble when mealtimes were upon us.
Although for special treats, they knew to mooch from Sven. He was a natural-born dog victim, head completely turned by canine attentions any time he was within licking distance.
The madly enthusiastic dogs and I headed back into the bedroom; I consoled myself with the idea of calling my two children for the 'nine-year-olds' daily recap of important events. My furry twins, our four-legged babies, would have to be content to curl up on the floor and await my signal. Leo preferred settling himself in the doorway to the hall, while Spigot chose to stretch his collie length across the pathway to the master bathroom. At some point, I'd motion to them, and they could leap onto the bed with a sigh of relief. But not for a couple of hours yet, boys!
Just as I was ready to make the call to Utah, an hour earlier than usual, the phone rang.
"Wife. It's me."
The terse tone didn't mar my pleasure. Eric, of course, calling from the Hawaiian islands. "Where are you?"
"You'll like this; I was planning to surprise you by flying home early today. Instead, we were re-routed because of air traffic to LAX out of Honolulu. Thought I'd take you to the World Series game tonight; Sven's firm has extra tickets for us. Is he home already?"
"Game, what game?" I was only teasing him. "When will you be in? I can pick you up." I was suddenly more than eager to make the drive into Brisbane to retrieve him. Although not so eager to tell him that Sven had already come and gone for the evening.
"Sookie, I'm flying into San Jose at five on United. Meet me at the curb around 5:20. I left my gear on the research site with my faithful assistant and sometime-brother Joran, but bring the Volvo. Sven promised to have the tickets in an envelope for us in the den. Find them."
"I'll be so glad to see you, baby. I'll dig out the tickets. Let's drive on to Candlestick to see the last innings of the game. You'll need a coat and hat tonight for the Battle of the Bay." I was in full-on organizing mode in spite of my excitement.
I wanted to say more, but he had to catch his flight and hung up rather abruptly.
Another spouse who hadn't told me he loved me. Was I just too fat, or what?
I made the interrupted call to my children who did love me, listened patiently to the complicated details of my children's existence, and said hello to Mia before signing off to indulge in a brief nap. Eric would be horny; he'd need some extra pampering after his long flight. The furry boys were soon sighing happily, wrapped around each other on the end of the mattress, with at least one longish, wet nose pointed in my direction. It was a necessary canine precaution; humans were vastly unpredictable to the domesticated wolf. Kibble, for example, had the habit of appearing from thin air. A dog had always to be ready to act decisively when it did.
Or so I amused myself by thinking as I drifted off to sleep, alarm set for a half-hour snooze.
It was already 4:30 when I locked the front door and scooted across the brick Courtyard to retrieve the Volvo from the garage. The dogs had been acting oddly since I'd awakened early, no alarm necessary, and in my frustration with their antics, I let them out to run the woods behind our house. They both took off like they'd been shot.
The sun was shining brightly as I pulled onto Highway 101 fifteen minutes later, thinking it would be less congested headed South than the 480 at the busy commuter hour.
Around 5:04, the first wave of the 7.0 quake hit. It was the longest twenty seconds of my life.
Over my screaming, which I couldn't hear, wasn't even aware I was doing, the shaking of the highway caused my car to move without my control. It seemed hysterical that my possibly final thoughts, as I was quite sensibly screaming without a filter, were that Eric would be happy to be on site for such an important seismological event.
The roaring finally subsided, the cars frozen in place on the freeway as we drivers slowly recovered our wits and eased up on the brakes. It was the shocked expressions on my fellow travelers faces, evident as we all looked around frantically, that made me aware of the scale of the disaster. The cloverleaf had taken a beating; I now remembered watching as it rocked ahead of me, small chunks breaking away to land on the helpless cars. However, thank God, the structure had held. I later learned that drivers on the 880 in Oakland had not been so lucky.
And then it was time to restart my life, check on my family, and collect Eric from the San Jose Airport. Panic wasn't something I did well; I could only hope that Sven was safe and would make contact with us soon.
Part Two.
Sven POV
The story I'd told Sookie about my plan for the evening was a complete fabrication—I had no desire to spend the night trolling for men. She should have known me better by now; I had never had to work it. I always had more offers for hookups than time. On occasion, I just needed my space, especially when Little Brother had a surprise planned for my wife after several months away on a research gig.
And frankly, after an embarrassing miscue or two, I'd lost interest in more one-nighters more than a year ago. I'd been faithful to my two partners for going on fourteen months, and more than satisfied with the narrowing of my choices.
So why had I lied to her? Perhaps I was just a little jealous, even after a decade of marriage. What would it hurt if she felt the same about me?
I could foresee no downside to my little deception.
After all, we'd all three agreed, after a particularly blistering argument a few years into our marriage, that provided I was informed in advance, Eric was free to enjoy dedicated time with Susannah. In conformance with our arrangement, he'd therefore called me from his remote island paradise to inform me he'd be surprising her, just assuming I'd be around to watch the heart-warming reunion. No thanks.
Tonight, I intended to hit the gym, have a quiet dinner, and pass out after finishing Picture This, the latest Joseph Heller novel. Cocktails for one? Why not?
My gym was busy; seemed like everyone in the financial district was determined to fit in an early workout. Initially surprised, I soon realized many of them were planning on watching the third game of the Series. Luckily, I had no interest in baseball, so I took several breaks to let the sports fans finish up and make their escape. Several men had checked me out, perhaps thinking I'd make a good couch buddy (as if I'd ever bottom) but I wasn't even tempted, my thoughts wrapped up in what my wife would be doing tonight. While I did enjoy watching my two partners play, too often Eric claimed he wasn't in a mood for me to observe (and critique, I silently finished for him.) I judged tonight would be one of those nights when I would not be welcomed by my brother. For a Mormon, he had become very conservative during our decade together.
The Loma Prietan earthquake struck just as I was relaxing against the gym's interior wall, sipping on an energy drink from my bag after completing my routine. The building took a major hit from the waves of compression and shearing beneath me, the floor literally rippling under my ass. Without windows or functioning lights, the weight room was both dark and horribly quiet for a few moments after the thunderous noise finally ceased. The thick, swirling dust that arrived from seemingly nowhere now refused to settle as pandemonium and terror were given voice by twenty or so men trapped with me in the cramped space.
After a spell of coughing, a couple of lighters were dug out of abandoned sweats, and we were able to triage. The stink of fear was palpable when it was discovered the room's only door would not open; excited male voices rose in alarm until a few cooler heads prevailed, urging caution and restraint. No one knew what lay outside the room—had the whole City of San Francisco fallen into the Pacific Ocean? Were we the only ones left alive? Why had no one from the Gym's main floor come to rescue us? In the uneasy hush following the last question, the faint sounds of sirens and alarms could be heard filtering through the building. The world still awaited us, if we could find a means of escape.
Then the aftershock struck, and whatever hadn't fallen before, now loosened, became a deadly weapon. In addition the sprinklers kicked-on. At least the choking dust was no longer a nuisance, but no one was rejoicing.
I was a lucky one, and uninjured after both quakes, swore loudly when the tally of those hurt was completed in the flickering light. Imagine bench pressing a three hundred pound weight and losing control of it. Some situations were far more serious than others. Everyone was offering what comfort and assurances they had, but as whimpers of pain turned into full-fledged cries, I knew I needed to find and secure professional help.
The weight room was in the basement of the building; I well knew the location of the stairs and after two of the burly lifters (one with a broken arm, the other with crushed fingers and complaining of blood in his eyes) tried some sustained kicking, the door finally opened just enough for me to squeeze through. I felt along the wall in the damp, warm air for what seemed like hours. The large cracks in the concrete structure were disconcerting, but nothing had fallen to block my path, so I kept going. In the dark, it was easy to become disoriented: I had to retrace my steps, on my knees, until I banged an elbow against the metal handrail of the open stairwell.
Cursing the lack of emergency lighting that should have been Code compliant, and swearing to find a new gym soon, I stood and stepping carefully, was able to pick my way into the main exercise space. It was deserted: I needed to keep moving. My fears for my family foremost in my thoughts, I was eventually able to locate an undamaged exit. With most of the building's suspended lighting destroyed, ceilings broken and fallen in large sections, and loose equipment scattered everywhere, making it through the unstable debris hadn't been easy.
Outside, it was as disorganized as one might expect. Waving my arms wildly and shouting for paramedics, I was eventually able to flag down a yellow-slickered fireman, my shrill voice commanding his attention in spite of the milling, frightened crowds chattering excitedly. Details about injuries shared as quickly as possible, he told me to wait outside. I watched, deflated, as rescue personnel carrying axes and stretchers disappeared inside to rescue my former companions.
As soon as I realized I had no role there, my fears for my wife and even Eric took precedence. I wondered if my car had been crushed or damaged, or if I'd be able to get out of town on the freeways to make the drive to the Peninsula. I was many blocks from the condo, but had had the presence of mind to grab keys and wallet from my bag before I squeezed through that gym door to eventual freedom. With nothing much functioning properly in the City, I gave serious thought to the dangers of encountering looters as I began the long walk back to my only means of leaving downtown for Woodside.
Focused as I was on my target, I only caught snatches of conversation, but thought I overheard that Santa Cruz had been destroyed. It was further south, and instantly fed my fears that the quake was worse around our home. No one had anything to share about Woodside, but it was impossible to separate fact from rumor or conjecture. At one point, several people were yelling that Oakland was gone, sunk beneath the Bay, and thousands killed, but that seemed unlikely. I was praying that the phone service worked in the condo; the cellular coverage was obviously down all over the City.
I began to run, the light rain making my footing uncertain.
Part Three.
Eric POV
Had I been trying to fly into San Francisco, where runway damage was more severe, I might not have been quiet so cool in the aftermath of the 7.0 quake. But San Jose's airport was open long enough for my flight to land, and we touched down right after the first quake and aftershock, the pilot sharing the barest details before his command we exit quickly and quietly. Duffle slung over my shoulder, I hurried off the plane and across the tarmac to the gate door, always grateful when I didn't have to stop for luggage.
Powering through the airport's long hallways and skirting other shocked travelers, I didn't stop until I found Sookie waiting at the curb in her usual place, her face white with panic. She grabbed my shoulder and sputtered one word, "Sven?"
I shook my head, certain then he'd once again gone into the Castro and hadn't yet checked-in with her. Damn, what a night for him to have an itch to scratch. If I'd not come home, would he have been safe with Sookie at our house?
I ignored the strong wash of guilt (my jealous dick got my twin killed! screamed through my brain) and focused on asking questions as I turned up the radio reports, searching for information about how big a hit the downtown area had sustained. Regardless of the danger, we'd have to search for him. It was unthinkable that anything might have happened to him.
He was my brother. Indestructible? Well, certainly arrogant, driven, vain, and sometimes bone-lazy. A study in contradictions—the cliché fit him well.
And he was my best friend. Even if in the last couple of years, he'd morphed into an annoyance, another male competing with me for Sookie's loyalty, and no more than uncle to my children he calmly claimed as his own. Our hasty arrangements, made a decade ago, were working, but just barely. I suspected the whole thing might break down were I not spending so much time away from home, travelling for my career. And the fact was, the last twelve months I had begun having…fantasies about other women.
Although I'd yet to act on any of them.
But for now, my wife needed my reassurances, and I required a plan. Bedlam prevailed as everyone on the planet seemed to clog the streets and highway feeder roads. Coming in after spending months on one of the smaller Pacific islands, I wasn't prepared for the traffic snarls and the honking. Police were out in force, but they didn't seem to be making much headway against the congestion. Windows down, I could hear them using the bullhorns. And yet, here I didn't see many signs of damage. I could imagine the insides of retail shops, homes, or offices being shaken and everything not bolted in, falling. I'd seen the aftermath of countless quakes, both live and in photos. I fucking studied the phenomenon. In truth, I expected our house would be fine. We'd bolted, and braced, and cleared overhanging trees soon after I moved in with Sookie and Sven. I wasn't taking any chances.
But Sven's condo in the City? I had no idea how safe it would be, if he'd even been there, or had instead been hanging out in a place much more vulnerable to the destruction of the P and S forces, like the Marina district.
Through all of this general chaos, the swirling thoughts, the waves of guilt, the horrific traffic and car horn blasts, magnified by the collective fear of another large aftershock, Sookie hummed quietly beside me in the Volvo. A mindless, tuneless noise, as if she was trying to block out every distraction around her before she was overwhelmed.
And at the back of my thoughts, I desperately wanted to get across the bay to the Berkeley labs, begin analyzing quake data, and confer with my colleagues. This event would be worth an enormous amount of research data and published papers. But I pushed down hard on the swelling, familiar excitement; I needed to focus on my brother's safety, not on my burgeoning career prospects.
The dogs were long gone, no surprise, when we pulled into the courtyard of our house. Sookie took off running to check the phones for messages while I quickly gathered up crowbar, wrenches, and other tools should we need to pry Sven loose when we found him. Sookie returned, reporting there was a recorded message about all circuits being busy when she lifted the receiver. I immediately assumed PacBell landlines and cellular phones were mostly down throughout the entire Bay area because of the disaster. Consequently, we had no message from my brother nor any means of reaching him. Feeling a growing sense of urgency, I began barking orders for what I feared might become a grim search-and-rescue operation.
"But what if he's fine and is already driving home? We'll miss him?"
"Leave a note!" I growled, eager to be back on the road, although we had no real assurances the roads were open, much less driveable. I suspected he'd be stuck in the City, no matter what his individual circumstances might be.
It had been more than an hour since the first quake struck, and more aftershocks were inevitable.
Part Four.
Sven POV
The crowds began to thin as I approached my goal, my bolt hole in the City. I was relieved to have arrived without incident, certain now I would be able to escape into my building, call home, and get the car back out of the garage. I'd find my wife, and then we'd start checking in with our families and circle of good friends. My brother Eric was too hardy to let something like the largest earthquake in eighty-three years unsettle him. The man was a geologist: he thought in millennia, not mere centuries.
I knew he'd be okay; his worst problem was probably his flight being rerouted to another airport.
Unfortunately, while my building was still standing, it was readily apparent from a block away, even in the overcast light and drizzle, it had sustained damage. The roof was sitting at an odd angle, and the front door was bowed. As I skidded to a stop at the front stoop, I could see that a large piece of plate glass had been kicked-out or shattered on its own. Someone had pushed a tall credenza from the lobby up against the raw opening from within. It was a massive piece of oak construction, and hard shoving wouldn't budge it. Fuck! How was I going to get inside?
I hurried back down the block and approached the condominiums from the rear alley where several metal trash bins were lined up along the security fence. With a brief appraisal, I decided I could climb on the lid of one to gain access to the top of the wooden barrier. It would be a drop of eight feet once I was over, but desperation to reach home made me bold. I needed my car in the basement of the building to get back to Susannah!
It was more difficult than I imagined. I wasted twenty minutes, badly scratching my hands and ripping my workout clothes in several places from my desperate scrabbling to climb the slippery surfaces. Finally standing on top of a slick metal lid, balanced precariously on the incline, I saw that the drop to the other side was more like twelve feet into a dirt depression I'd never noticed. However, I wasn't giving up yet. I merely had to clear the wooden fence and land on my feet. I could easily crawl out of the hip high pit once I was on the other side.
Great plan, but with one foot on the fence and one on the bin's lid, I was first shaken violently, then pitched headfirst over the fence by another aftershock. I landed with a loud whoomp! on my back, not my feet, my skull hitting the earth with a thump.
The sky went dark.
When I came to my senses, I'd no idea how long it had been since my fall. I took a minute to clear my head, wondering if I'd suffered a concussion. I was chilly lying in the mud; perhaps the shivering had helped me regain consciousness. I tried to push up on my elbows, but a severe pain shot down my hip. Moving carefully, I found I could raise my arm, and doing so to check the time, saw my prize Rolex was gone! Knowing it had not been loosened when I fell, I was confused by the loss until I checked my pockets for my wallet and keys. Also gone.
My head might be fuzzy and my vision blurry, but the irony wasn't lost on me. In the middle of the biggest natural disaster to hit the Bay Area in decades, someone had taken time to mug me while I was out cold. Not thinking, I shook my head in wonder; "Ouch!"
That cut it; I was definitely going to have a bad headache from this event. Even my hands burned, the scratches dirty from the nasty steel bins I'd tried to climb.
I wasn't going to be using my keys to get in the back entrance anytime soon.
It was dark now, so it had to be after eight. Three hours or more since the first quake struck. I wondered if Sookie was looking for me? Immobile as I was, I tried shouting for help, but my voice was weak and the yelling pulled muscles that squealed in pain. I stopped after a few minutes.
With no better ideas, I resigned myself to spending a wet, miserable night alone in a shallow depression. Giggling, I only hoped the fence didn't fall on me from the force of one of the aftershocks. If it did, I'd be squished like a bug.
Moving swiftly from hilarity to despair at my helplessness, I closed my eyes and sent out a silent, futile plea for my twin to find me. "Eric!" Futile because I doubted he was even in the Bay Area; more likely he was trying to make his way back from Los Angeles or Sacramento. And Susannah would be alone, worried about me. God, I hoped she'd stayed home and waited for me.
For nighttime in the City, it was far too still. I could only wait.
Part Five.
Sookie POV
Long after I thought we should have found Sven, we were still no closer to making contact with him. I fought to hold back tears, determined not to upset Eric by sobbing like a weak kitten. Arguing our way past police barricades and too-ready evidence of a poorly enforced lockdown of the City against looting, we had travelled every crooked backstreet and alley Eric remembered. Many streets were blocked by stalled out buses or cable cars that had lost power during the quake. Hours after we should have, we finally pulled into an open parking slot directly in front of Sven's place, in itself a small miracle. I hoped for much larger ones tonight. The Financial District was built on landfill, and everyone knew it was highly vulnerable to quake forces.
Surveying the area, Eric and I both groaned: it was pitch black on the street and raining steadily now. None of the fires we'd seen burning all over the City were shedding any light in this area. Two blocks up, though, was well-lit. Narrowing my eyes, I saw people moving around, and the patchwork quilt of normality against the disaster in other sections was typical of situations we'd seen all over town.
I didn't hold out hope Sven was safely sitting inside in the dark, candles lit and waiting for us. Just wasn't his style. Plus, the building looked as though it had felt the effects of the quake, and maybe needed several ropes of yellow caution tape. We gathered flashlights, and leaving the safety of the car, approached the building slowly, rain hitting my face whenever I looked up. We shone our lights on the front steps, and I gasped as broken glass sparkled in the twin beams.
"Looters!" Eric huffed in frustration, then commented on the makeshift barrier designed to block entrance to the lobby. "Looks like they tried to get inside. Wonder what other damage they did?"
"Sven couldn't have gotten in this way, Eric—see there, the door is buckled."
He nodded. "Can't remember—where are the other entrances? Garage, maybe?"
Hope sunk to a new low, I was out of ideas. "Just try the keys, Eric. Maybe they'll work." I'd remembered the extra set before we left Woodside, and felt for them in my pocket, retrieving them as Eric said, "Lost cause, but hand them over."
They fit just fine, but the door didn't budge, even with Eric throwing his shoulder into it. He refrained from saying anything or looking at me, instead walking several feet away to the large pair of garage doors set a few feet below ground level, his flashlight travelling over the area, vainly searching for a door. "Never heard of a garage without a second entrance. Must be in the back, let's go around."
I pulled on his arm, frustrated that we were wasting time. "No. He must have been at the gym! That would make sense; he'd taken his gym bag. Maybe that's where he was meeting…" I trailed off, not wanting to say the words another man.
"Fuck, if we ever find the bastard, we three are having a long talk about his extra-marital adventures. This shit has to stop, or…" I finished that sentence in my head with "I'm outta here."
But Eric was mad, upset by Sven's disappearance, and he finished his own thought. "He should have been home, waiting for me to get back into town. I'm not going to accept him sticking his dick in strangers anymore. I don't do that, and he doesn't get to any more, ever. Not if he wants me in his bed, and that goes for you, too."
Eric's furious reaction wasn't unexpected; he'd just come off a long flight to find his twin missing and the Bay Area rocked by a major quake. And irritated as his remarks made me, I had no comfort to offer him.
It wasn't my fault, but I still felt like a complete failure for letting Sven leave tonight. Eric was quiet now, standing a good distance from me and staring off into space as he mentally reviewed our options.
"Look, I still don't believe he's inside. He was going to his gym before going out. We could probably walk there—it's about eight blocks from here, isn't it?" I didn't say what was weighing on my mind: what if he was still trapped in the gym building, unable to escape? It was closer to the water and odds weren't good it had escaped the shaking.
"Yeah, but the City feels very unsettled; looks like most people are out in the streets, afraid to stay indoors. I don't know how safe it is for me to be walking in this area alone with you. If he's not here, we'll wait for him inside. There has to be a back door."
I didn't plan to argue with him, but just now, it felt a lot safer outside, even if logically I knew a building was just as likely to fall on you as collapse with you inside of it. In my defense, I doubted very many people were thinking clearly that night, instead simply waiting for the next aftershock, nerves rattled.
Still, Eric was the expert when it came to earthquakes. I reluctantly agreed to wait inside, but I couldn't mask the fear in my voice.
Eric looked at me closely, and then suggested I instead go sit in our car. He wanted to search the building's garage for Sven's Spyder, and was going to have a look around back for the missing entrance.
"I'm coming with," I sort of whined, visions of looters or rapists attacking the car with me in it overcoming my fear of being trapped by a falling wall.
"No. Lock the car doors and wait for me," he threw over his shoulder as he took off at a lope down the street, intending to cut through the nearest side street to the back alley. He still had Sven's apartment keys. I knew I couldn't keep up with him, so grumping at his retreating figure, I climbed back in the Volvo, cursing loudly at our lack of progress.
But I kept an eye on the front of the building, expecting him to signal me with his flashlight once he made it inside. With each passing minute, his decision to talk Sven out of any further adventures made more sense. And I noticed with more than a little trepidation the group of people I'd seen earlier on the street was gone. I was completely alone on the unlit street.
I jumped and screamed faintly when there was a loud thumping on the window behind me. Swallowing hard, I turned my head to Eric signaling me to come with him. "Couldn't you get inside?" I queried as I crawled out, relieved to stretch the tension from my legs and back.
"Found him; he's hurt. You have to help get him to the car. Get a move on; he's acting dingy. Might be a concussion." Eric was sober and focused; he was collecting tools from the back and passed over his flashlight. "Grab a blanket and that thermos of coffee you'd brought for me."
"Where was he? How bad is his injury? Was he inside the apartment?" I had a thousand questions as I moved to obey, but Eric just growled at me again to hurry, and we raced back around the same corner he'd taken earlier. Blood colored my thoughts as I imagined every horrible injury possible, following Eric as quickly as my shorter legs would allow.
Unbelievably, when I caught up with him in the alley, he was sawing down a tall wooden fence that towered over my head, using the crowbar to crack the ribs open. I had no idea how he'd made it inside the fence or climbed back out, but the lateral supports on the inside were revealed when he pulled down a section of fencing with his bare hands. Distracted, I was astonished by his nearly superhuman strength at ripping that thing apart.
"Where is he?" was answered by a loud groan, and Eric had to throw an arm in front of me as I tried to charge past him to reach Sven. If he hadn't, I would have tripped and fallen into a deep ditch nearly invisible in the unlit back yard until Eric shushed my protests by illuminating our injured partner.
"Baby, he's on the ground. Careful, now. I'll have to lift him up and out. He thinks he's bruised his hip; not broken, thank god. Wrap that blanket around him, and mind your steps on the mud. I'll lift and carry him out."
Many frantic minutes later, we had Sven ensconced in the back of the wagon, filthy and wet, but minimally comfortable. I was pouring warm liquid down him as Eric drove like a maniac to the nearest emergency center. Sven was shaking and couldn't talk clearly, so I just held on tightly.
"Just a few more minutes, brother, and we'll have help for you." In the back of the car, heater blasting, his shivering was subsiding a bit. Was that good or bad? Eric continued to shout encouragement to Sven, but covering his bets by ending with, "Pinch him hard, Sookie, if his eyes start to roll back."
Eric couldn't see my nod, but he had to hear me kissing Sven's check and my murmured words of love and relief. I was so freaking glad to see Sven. I knew we'd continue to feel the terrifying aftershocks over the next several days, but for now we three were together.
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A/N: I did live in SF during the quake. It was the most shocking event I've ever experienced first-hand.