Free Quake by Jack Douglas Page B

another 9/11 because he had allowed his prisoner to escape in the chaos.
    The path back to the courtroom was blocked, so there was only one way for Shaw to go—deeper into the lockup. From what he could see, the power had been knocked out. Which meant the electronic doors were useless at confining anyone. Not that Shaw or his colleagues had had time to secure Alivi. Just as he and the others entered the lockup, the ceiling started falling. The last he’d seen the prisoner, Alivi was heading in the direction Shaw was heading in now.
    Darren Shaw wasn’t necessarily afraid of the dark, but this was ridiculous. He couldn’t see two feet ahead of him. He walked with his arms out in front of him, like a blind man without a dog or a cane.
    â€œDaddy, I don’t like the dark. Can you put on my light-night?”
    â€œNight-light, honey.”
    â€œThat’s what I said! Light-night.”
    That was his youngest, Denise. Denise was two going on twenty-two. That’s how it was when a girl had two older sisters. Denise was growing up faster than any of them. Which wasn’t so much of a concern for Shaw now. But in ten or fifteen years? He knew he’d be singing a different tune if Denise grew up before her time. All children should have a chance to be kids. No need to grow up fast; nothing waiting for them that won’t be there when they’re old enough to appreciate it.
    Shaw felt to his right, searching for the metal door that opened into the private stairwell used just by the marshals to bring prisoners up to the courtrooms. Cell, wall, cell, wall, do—
    No door, just open air and Shaw stumbled through the doorframe and nearly tumbled down the stairs. He turned back, felt around but the door wasn’t open; it just wasn’t there. The door had come off in the—
    In the what? Shaw thought. The explosion? The earthquake?
    Does it matter?
    No, whatever happened, Shaw’s duty remained the same.
    He reached out in search of the railing. When his fingers finally found it, he grasped it like a lifeline and took the first step down. Wishing the whole while that he could reach out to Tamron, let her know he was all right. She’d be worried. His oldest daughter, Isis, she’d be nervous, too. She was only twelve but already felt she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. Growing up as she was in this post-9/11 world, he shouldn’t have been surprised. He and Tamron had tried to shield her as much as possible in the first few years of her life, but once she started school, it became more and more difficult. Now, she was on the Internet for hours on end each day. She went to sites like WebMD and worried herself senseless about cancer and exotic diseases like SARS. Her counselor at school even had a name for that—cyberchondria. But she wasn’t just a hypochondriac; she was terrified of just about everything. Terrorism, crime, poverty—that’s right, she was even worried about the global economy. And she didn’t like what her daddy did for a living at all. “What if some of your prisoner’s friends decide to help him escape? What if they bring guns? What if they set up one of those IEDs along the road like in Iraq?”
    â€œThis isn’t Iraq, sweetheart,” he’d told her more than once. But it did little good. Even when he succeeded in comforting her, her fears blew right back through the window the moment he left for work.
    Shaw found the landing and took several deep breaths.
    Halfway there, he thought.
    And then what?
    Well, that depended entirely on what he found down there, didn’t it?
    He started down the next flight of stairs same as he did the first. Thinking of his middle child, Tiana. She was the quiet one. Seven years old and hardly ever made a peep. Oh, Tiana was smart, he knew that. She made straight A’s in school and excelled at standardized tests. She just didn’t say much. Shaw often called her an