Free The Filter Trap by A. L. Lorentz Page B

just mumbled “Not me.”
    A fist came through the crowd, landing underneath the man’s extended arm. The vet reflexively released his grip on Allan and stumbled back.
    Lee stepped in front of Allan. “Help is coming for you, but we’re not it. We’re here for a woman who might know the cause of all of this. Do any of you know where we can find Dr. Jill Tarmor?”
    The man so demanding a minute ago fell in line confronted, or comforted by, a real soldier. “Lieutenant, none of us know each other. We’re refugees from the storm, separated from family and friends. We’re all looking for somebody. Can you tell us where you came from, what you know, what’s happened, when food and clothes will come?”
    Lee looked around at eyes reflecting the dying Sun creeping behind the bay. Britely relished delivering this sort of news back at the base. Lee wished he were here, if only so she’d know what they were allowed to divulge to the public.
    “Both coasts were hit by that wave. I assure you help is on the way. We’re here to find an explanation of why so many good Americans lost their lives today. Please help me find this doctor.”
    They stared at Lee.
    “Help us find our families, food, and drinkable water,” the crowd protested.
    The ground grumbled, shoving hard upright, leveling the crowd and then continuing to vibrate unevenly for a few more seconds.
    “Aftershocks,” Allan whispered. “I had a feeling this would happen.”
    “You want to tell me anything else you have a feeling about?” Lee shouted.
    Allan stumbled over his words. “If we’re experiencing a loss—no— different tidal forces, after all, we’re still orbiting a star, the plates are going to shift as well. The San Andreas has been bottling up its energy for over a century and this would have been the last straw. I’m sorry I didn’t think to mention it before, I wasn’t sure.”
    “Listen, Sands, if I wait for everything to be certain in your calculations before you let me know, the only thing you can be certain of is that we’ll all be dead by sunrise.”
    Allan didn’t respond to this vaguely threatening statement directly. Instead, his face flattened. “You have no idea if help is coming for these people, do you?”
    Another jolt toppled them to the ground.
    “Any of your feelings know how long this’ll last?” she asked as they sat, absorbing aftershocks.
    He shook his head, and a new distraction focused their attention away. They couldn’t hear it, the wailing of the confused crowd being too loud, but the red glow of the flare climbing into the sky illuminated the desperate faces around them.
    “Nana made it to the bridge.” Lee tugged at Allan’s coat lapel, leading him toward the flare.

Chapter 7
     
    They pushed in the unchanging darkness for hours through the sea of people to reach the base of the Golden Gate. Many times desperate San Franciscans begged for help, but Allan and Lee had little to offer.
    The thick trees flanking Veterans Boulevard sheltered refugees of the Event. Lee stopped to help fashion splints for broken bones out of tree branches. She taught mothers how to warm shivering children with a kindling fire, never letting her eyes break too long from the north sky where she’d seen the flare.
    They didn’t walk directly toward the flare, but traveled on Veterans toward the 101 Freeway ramp. Lee hoped the Army had secured the freeway and they could hitch a ride once they got all the way up.
    With the ramp in sight, Lee turned away.
    “Where are you going?” Allan yelled.
    She motioned for him to follow.
    A brisk run through Dragonfly Creek left them on the blacktop of Upton Avenue.
    Lee looked left and right, searching for something in the red-topped buildings of circular Ralston Avenue a short block away. Beyond them, in the large grassy oval of the Presidio graduate school, thousands of bodies lay on top of each other. Morose faced men and women moved quietly between the bodies searching for