Free Earthquake Terror by Peg Kehret

Tuscan River, not only as it flowed around the island, but as it continued its course due west to the Pacific Ocean.
    If he had guessed correctly that the earthquake had created a natural dam which caused the stream across the island tooverflow, it meant that he and Abby were not in the small section of river that flowed into the lake where they had played sink-the-ships. They were in the Tuscan itself, the wide, deep river that flowed past Beaverville and Kendra, the two small towns that stood between the island and the coast.
    Maybe this is good, Jonathan thought. If we can stay on our trees while we float past the towns, surely someone will spot us from shore.
    “I have to go potty,” Abby said.
    “Go in your pants.”
    “What?”
Astonishment made her voice shrill.
    “You heard me,” Jonathan said. “We can’t leave our boats. And even if we could, there isn’t any bathroom. If you need to go, you’ll have to go where you are.”
    “You want me to wet my pants?”
    “They’re wet anyway, from the river.”
    Abby was quiet.
    In spite of his growing fear, Jonathan smiled. No one had ever suggested such outrageous behavior before and he knew Abby was considering whether or not to take his advice.
    Dusk was brief; darkness settled quickly over the island. Their predicament seemed worse, somehow, in the dark. More dangerous. They couldn’t be easily seen now, either from shore or from the air.
    “I did it.” Abby’s voice was low. “Don’t tell Mommy.”
    “Mommy won’t care,” Jonathan said.
    “It feels warm.”
    Moose shifted, his feet slipping on the wet tree.
    “Easy, boy,” Jonathan said. “Lie still.”
    “I want to go home,” Abby said. “I don’t like my boat.”
    “I want to go home, too, but there isn’t any way to do that until Mom and Dad send someone to get us.”
    “I don’t like all this water.” She sounded scared. “It’s worse than the pool.”
    Jonathan wondered if she had just realized what was happening. “I don’t like it, either,” he said, “but our boats will keep us safe.”
    Abby began to cry.
    I have to keep her calm, Jonathan thought. If she panics, she’ll forget to hold on.
    Jonathan started to sing again. “Itsy-bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout.”
    Abby listened for a moment and then joined in.
    If we get out of this alive, Jonathan thought, I will never again sing about itsy-bitsy spider.
    His hand ached from trying to hold on to Abby’s tree. In the dark, he couldn’t tell how deep the water was but they were moving steadily now. Faster than before. There was more space between their trees and the other trees that were floating, as if the river had widened, making room for its passengers.
    The songs were the only way to keep Abby from crying so, while his own fear rose as fast as the water, Jonathan continued to sing.
    “Out came the sun and dried up all the rain . . .”
    A larger tree slammed into the root end of Jonathan’s tree, jolting him sideways. Moose splashed into the river.
    Jonathan let go of Abby’s tree and grabbed his own to keep from falling off. Moose swam beside the tree. He put one paw up, trying to climb back on, but with no ground under his hind legs to push against, he couldn’t make it.
    Jonathan leaned into the water, put his arm under Moose’s chest and lifted. Moose scrambled back on to the tree.
    The tree bobbed and jerked. Jonathan clung to it until it stabilized.
    When he reached for Abby’s tree, he couldn’t find it.
    “Hold out your hand,” he cried. “This way.” He groped toward her in the dark, splashing the surface of the water. He could make out her shape; she was drifting away from him. He leaned toward her until he nearly rolled into the water. He could not reach her.
    He unsnapped Moose’s leash and, holding the handle in his right hand, flung the clasp toward Abby, as if he were flyfishing.
    “Grab the leash,” he called. “It’s in the water. Find it and hold on.”
    “I can’t