Rescued By The Single Dad. Emily ForbesЧитать онлайн книгу.
seemingly with no great urgency, keeping pace with the eucalyptus trees that were falling alongside it. It left a dark smear of mud in its wake as it pushed the snow ahead like a gigantic snowplough. The bottom floors of the building were pushed out as it gathered momentum and the upper levels toppled backwards. The accompanying sound was an agonising, horrific cracking of timbers, an explosion of glass, a high-pitched shrieking of twisting metal and devastating human cries, but still the lodge continued to slide down the slope in front of him, heading straight for Snowgum Chalet. And Charli.
There was nothing he could do and he watched helplessly as the disaster unfolded before him until, with a sickening crash, the two lodges collided. Pat took a step forward, hopelessly, helplessly, as Snowgum Chalet collapsed like a deck of cards and the third and fourth stories crushed the floors below and sent a cloud of white concrete dust into the air.
Car alarms were blaring and, over the top of all the noise, the village distress siren wailed. The noise of the disaster brought people out of the buildings. They poured out of the surrounding bars, restaurants and lodges before stopping in their tracks, staring in disbelief at the site that confronted them. A dark muddy scar bisected the snow-covered mountain and an enormous pile of rubble, which moments before had been two buildings, dominated the landscape. They stared, momentarily frozen, at the ruins of the buildings that had, God only knew, how many people inside.
Pat could hear screams and calls for help coming from underneath the rubble. He had no idea how people had survived this disaster but clearly they had. He desperately hoped Charli had been one of them but he couldn’t imagine how. Her apartment was—had been—on the ground floor. Unless she had somehow, miraculously, managed to escape, she was now buried under tonnes of concrete, bricks and steel. He fought back a wave of nausea as the dust cloud settled and he surveyed the scene. Everything had changed in an instant.
A few bystanders had already gathered their wits and were trying to move debris. There wasn’t any discussion or any system to the recovery attempt, people simply started at the area closest to them. They stood in the mud, pulling at bricks and window frames, blocks of concrete and pieces of broken furniture. They looked like scavengers sorting through a rubbish tip. Nothing in front of them resembled a building.
He had to help. He pulled his gloves from the pocket of his jacket and shoved his hands into them as his feet began moving, propelling him towards the devastation. Muddy water continued to flow down the hill, making conditions underfoot slippery and treacherous. He could smell diesel fuel and sewage and gas but he couldn’t stop. Charli’s life might depend on him.
‘Charli! Charli?’
For a split second he thought it was her voice he could hear. He turned around and saw a young woman flying down the path, her blonde hair streaming behind her.
Was it Charli?
She ran past Connor and Pat saw him grab at her. He held onto her, restraining her. Pat knew if he hadn’t caught her she would have kept running.
She beat at his chest with her fists. ‘Let me go. My sister is in there. I have to find her.’
His heart fell like a stone into his stomach, the last vestiges of hope shattered. It wasn’t Charli. It was her sister.
He left Connor to deal with her as he stepped cautiously onto a teetering slab of concrete before thinking better of it when it wobbled under his feet. He didn’t want to upset the balance. Who knew what lay beneath his feet.
He lay on his stomach and inched along the slab, listening to the cries for help and trying to work out where they were coming from. Sound bounced off the hard surfaces and off the mountain, distorting the voices and making it difficult to judge direction.
The darkness wasn’t helping matters either. He couldn’t see clearly, he couldn’t tell if there were gaps in the rubble, any way in or out. He couldn’t see survivors but he could hear them. He needed better light so he could tell where to start. He pulled his phone from his pocket, swiped the screen and pressed the flashlight icon but the light it gave off was pathetic.
‘I need some light over here. Does anyone have a torch?’ The lights of the village had been bright enough to see the buildings topple but they weren’t bright enough now. He needed stronger beams, much stronger. The headlights from a car or a snowplough.
‘Pat, what the hell are you doing? It’s not safe, man.’
He heard Connor’s voice from behind him. He turned his head. He could see dozens of people gathered in the semi-darkness, torches and phones causing multiple circles of light. ‘Pass me a torch.’
‘No. You need to come back. We need to assess the situation. It’s too dangerous.’
‘I can hear people. I need to see if I can reach them.’
‘And what if that slab gives way under you? We could lose you along with anyone trapped under there,’ Connor responded. ‘We need a plan.’
Pat ignored him. He knew Connor wouldn’t risk coming out after him. Two people on this teetering slab would be asking for trouble. Pat could stay out there safe in the knowledge that no one could drag him back. He knew he was taking a risk but what choice did he have? People were trapped. They needed his help.
‘Hello? Can you hear me?’ he called out.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m trapped.’
‘Help us.’ One, two, three different voices called back to him.
But none of them belonged to Charli.
He didn’t want to stop but he couldn’t ignore these cries for assistance. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘My wife. You have to help me. I can’t reach her.’
‘I’m stuck, my leg is caught. There’s water coming in. I can’t move. Help me, please, help me.’
There were only two replies to his question.
‘Who is there? Can you tell me your names?’
‘Simon.’ The voice was faint and Pat strained to listen. Where were the other voices? Where was the husband? His wife?
‘Pat, you need to follow protocol. It’s not safe,’ Connor called out, urging him to rethink his position.
Pat knew he was right. But knowing Connor was right wasn’t enough to get him to pull back. He could argue that this wasn’t a training drill or an official rescue. Not yet. He was effectively just a bystander, a good Samaritan, and his first instinct was to help. He would be careful. If he thought he was in danger, or there was a risk of causing further harm, he’d pull back.
‘Think about Ella,’ Connor called to him. ‘What happens to her if something happens to you?’
Pat hesitated, knowing Connor had won this round. He was being foolish, he wasn’t just risking his own safety, he was risking more than that, he was risking Ella’s life as she knew it. Ella was all he had left and he had to stay safe for her.
Connor hadn’t needed to come after him at all. He had won the battle of wills with a few well-chosen words.
‘Simon?’ Pat called out. ‘I’ll be back, I need to get help.’
‘Don’t leave me here.’
Simon’s voice called back to him, begging him not to go. One voice only. What had happened to the others? Had they lost consciousness? Or worse? Could they hear but not respond? Would Simon notice the silence?
Pat wanted to stay but he knew it was impossible to perform this rescue without equipment and help. ‘I promise I’ll be back.’
But he couldn’t promise he’d be back in time.
He closed his eyes and pictured Ella’s face and knew he had no option. It ripped him in two to leave but he had no choice.
He turned and began to inch his way off the slab. He had moved less than a foot when