And then the screaming began.
I picked myself up off the ground and crossed to Guthrie. He, like me, was covered in brick dust.
I pulled him to his feet. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘No. Are you?’ The old Ian was back.
‘No.’ Although my little heart was pounding away nineteen to the dozen. We tend to take solid ground for granted and it’s a bit disconcerting when suddenly it isn’t so solid any more.
He wiped his face, which did absolutely no good at all and looked around.
‘Bloody hell, that was a big one.’
He was right. Buildings or parts of buildings lay in heaps of rubble. Trees leaned at crazy angles. A huge split zig-zagged across the square, missing us by only a few feet.
‘Ian, did you know that was going to happen?’
‘No. I just knew something wasn’t right. The pressure in my head … I couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear anything except the noise. It’s gone now.’
I’d heard of this. Some people are sensitive to thunder storms so I suppose there’s no reason why others shouldn’t be sensitive to earthquakes. Theseus of Athens, son of Poseidon himself, was able to foretell earthquakes. And I had heard tales from America – before the borders closed, obviously – of people who claimed to be able to do the same thing. Mind you, that same person also told me that over there they actually pick up the ball and run with it when playing football, and how believable is that?
I stood quietly, brushing the dust from my clothes, waiting for him to collect the reports. He finished, closed down his com and nodded. ‘No major casualties.’
The sun beat down upon us. I looked up at the sky, washed of all colour by the oppressive heat.
People were emerging from buildings around us, cut, bruised, dazed, dragging out their children, their family treasures, or whatever they happened to have in their hands at the time. Their faces reflected shock and bewilderment and then, as they saw the devastation to their city, outright fear. Uncomprehending children wailed for their parents. Women screamed. Men shouted, clawing vainly at the rubble.
I stared. Every instinct is to help. But what could I do? Guthrie solved the problem for me. Seizing my arm, he pulled me across the square.
‘Come away, Max.’
Years ago, I’d been in a wartime hospital in France when it caught fire. I still remember the panic and confusion as helpless people staggered from the smoke and flames out into the thick mud, only to run in hopeless circles, endangering themselves and others. This was no different. I’d tried to help on that occasion – I should do so again.
‘Ian …’
But he was ruthless. I was dragged away. He was right. I had a duty to my own people first, but to run past helpless and broken people – children – when they called out to us as we passed …
Somehow, we got back to the pods.
Leon came forward. He broke our self-imposed rule and gently rubbed my arm. ‘Everything all right?’
I nodded and did a head-count. Everyone was present and nearly correct, which, with St Mary’s, is about the best you can ever hope for. Markham had a field dressing on the side of his head. It looked as if he’d been caught by falling masonry, although knowing him, he might well have been bitten by another irate goose.
We called it quits for the day.
Chapter Eleven
The aftershocks continued throughout the night, varying in strength and duration. We sat outside in the breathlessly hot night, pod doors open, in case we needed to make a quick exit and listened to the sounds of terror in the already stricken city. In the distance, we could hear furious waves thundering down upon the shore.
No one got any sleep and about an hour before dawn we went out again.
I was in constant contact with Van Owen, who had taken a team into the city. There had been damage throughout, she reported, but the buildings in the citadel, although more tightly crammed together, were better constructed and had suffered less damage.
Guthrie and I had returned to the pods around mid-morning to pick up new disks when it happened again.
Guthrie, who had been perfectly normal up to that moment, suddenly clutched his head and groaned.
I just had time to shout a warning when the big one struck. And this time it was a big one and it did not stop. The ground trembled and jerked. The earth groaned in pain. We were all thrown to the ground. Inside the pods, I could hear equipment falling out of the lockers.
These things usually only last a few seconds – although it often seems much longer.
Not this time. The ground heaved violently. On the other side of the olive grove, I could hear buildings coming down.