Free Earthquake Terror by Peg Kehret Page B

car.
    Beaverville was behind them. Blackness took its place.
    “Mommy didn’t hear us,” Abby said.
    “We’ll try again at the next town.”
    “I’m cold. I want my Barney sweatshirt.”
    For an instant, Jonathan was annoyed. What did she expect him to do, swim back to Magpie Campground, dive under the river, lift the giant redwood with one hand, grab her sweatshirt off the hook, and swim back? “I’m not Superman,” Jonathan muttered.
    “When we get home,” Abby said, “let’s make popcorn.”
    Jonathan’s annoyance vanished. She’s only six, he remindedhimself. She doesn’t really understand what is happening to us.
    “Popcorn sounds great,” he said.
    Jonathan knew there was another town, Kendra, still ahead on the bank of the Tuscan. Maybe they would float closer to shore by then. Maybe someone in Kendra would hear their cries.
    And maybe not.

M rs. Palmer screamed.
    Mr. Palmer clutched the steering wheel and slammed his foot on the brake. Trees crashed around them as the car bucked like an untrained horse.
    They had just crossed the bridge from Magpie Island to the mainland when the earthquake hit. Without warning, the entire car rose six inches off the road and bounced back down again.
    Mr. Palmer turned off the engine but the car kept moving, swaying from side to side and rocking from back to front at the same time. The Palmers leaned forward in their seats, with their hands on their heads, while the earth pitched and rumbled and shook. The quake went on and on.
    “We have to go back,” Mrs. Palmer said, when it was finally over. “We must get the children.”
    Mr. Palmer got out of the car and looked around. The road was buckled in several places; trees were down everywhere. He walked behind the car to the bend in the road and looked back toward the island. His heart drummed loudly as he returned to the car.
    “We can’t go back,” he said. “The bridge collapsed.”
    Mrs. Palmer looked through the windshield at the trees blocking the road. “We can’t drive to town, either,” she said. “You’ll have to walk to Beaverville for help. I’ll wait here.”
    Her ankle throbbed. The movement of the earthquake had made her legs bounce, and several times the broken ankle had slammed into the car door. She hoped she would not pass out from the pain.
    “I don’t like to leave you,” Mr. Palmer said.
    “There’s no choice.”
    He nodded. He looked at his wife and saw his own fear reflected in her eyes. Were Jonathan and Abby hurt? How long would it take for help to get to them?
    “Get help for Jonathan and Abby first,” Mrs. Palmer said. “I can wait. They may not be able to.”
    He nodded. “I’ll hurry,” he said.
    It was not so easy to hurry. He couldn’t just run along the road to town; he had to climb over downed trees and step around fallen branches.
    Half a mile from the car, power lines hung across the road. The wooden power pole tilted at a forty-five-degree angle while the lines drooped downward. The wires hissed andsparks flew out. Mr. Palmer walked half a city block out of his way to get past the wires without touching them.
    He hoped they didn’t start a forest fire. This area was heavily wooded and there had been no rain all summer. He added the power lines to his mental list of emergencies to deal with as soon as he got to town.
    Or did this mean there would be no telephone service in Beaverville? Maybe all the power and telephone lines were out of service. It might not be so easy to arrange a rescue for Abby and Jonathan and another for his wife.
    He wiped the sweat from his forehead and plunged on toward Beaverville. Fear surrounded him like a winter fog. His body stayed warm from the physical exertion but inside, his heart felt chilled.
    Three hours later, he saw a house, set back from the road. He pounded on the door. A fat, balding man opened the door.
    “I need help,” Mr. Palmer said.
    “Don’t we all?”
    “My kids are alone on Magpie Island and my