Surviving The Storm. Heather WoodhavenЧитать онлайн книгу.
drywall dropped from the ceiling like snowflakes.
The earthquake was stronger than any he had experienced in the past, and as a California boy, that was saying something. He looked into Aria’s wide eyes. “Drop!” They both hit their knees and crawled across the littered floor. He squeezed underneath the thin entry table lining the wall next to the door and made sure there was room for her. She set the laptop down beside her and grabbed the outside leg of the table. David followed suit and grabbed the opposite leg.
Crash!
David groaned. The beautiful flat-screen television had smashed to the ground, leaving a gaping hole in the wall.
A rumbling boom in the distant grew closer, almost as if thunder had rolled across the coast. Aria’s wide eyes searched his face. “What was that?”
“It could be the conference building,” he said, hoping he was wrong. At least it was the only building that had been remodeled under the previous foreman’s direction. After David’s initial inspection he had hoped to ask George how he would know if the crew left behind were part of whatever shady dealings that had occurred. Now he’d never know the answer.
David also wondered how his truck was faring parked next to the storage shed—also not the most stable workmanship he’d ever seen. This had to be the worst day of his life thus far, and he prayed he’d never experience worse. He had driven all day from his old job in Northern California to take over as foreman for the center’s remodel. In fact, he’d been on site for only an hour before the shooting.
But what would’ve happened had he turned George down and never come? Would Aria have been left alone to face the murderers? Would she still be alive without him? His chest ached at the thought. The gunmen were still out there, and he needed to get Aria to a safe location.
He slid his hand out from under the covering of the flimsy table and grabbed his fallen phone. Despite a crack down the front of the glass, it seemed to be in working order.
After he dialed 9-1-1 for a second time, the phone emitted a series of beeps before a computerized voice informed him, “All circuits are busy. Please try your call again.”
He groaned. “Try your phone.”
Aria fumbled in her purse for a second but within moments came to the same conclusion. “Network is overloaded. Always happens when there’s an earthquake.” Her mouth dropped. “That’s why all the rabbits were heading for the state park. Instinct.”
He’d agree with her, but it seemed odd to him that the rabbits were heading for higher ground. He shrugged. “That settles it. We have no guarantee that help is around the corner anymore. Let’s go before any aftershocks can happen, assuming the roads are okay. For all we know, with an earthquake of that magnitude there could be rockslides on the highway. Where’s your car?”
“Right around the corner, next to the garden.”
He nodded, scrambled out from under the table and flung the door open. Aria had her suitcase of a purse slung over her form diagonally. A third of the laptop stuck out, but she still managed to sprint past him. Thankfully the snow and rain mix had stopped. He matched her speed but came to a crashing halt when he spotted the only car in the parking lot facing the gardens. “You still have the Bug?”
The baby blue Volkswagen Beetle made him cringe just looking at it. His knees would need to shove into his chest to lower himself into one of those, but it fit Aria and her cheerful personality.
She nodded, the pink hues from the setting sun illuminating her hair. He looked above her head. The middle of the conference center roof resembled a bowl. His jaw clenched. Needless destruction.
Aria followed his gaze. “You were right,” she whispered. “It caved. I’m so thankful we got out of there in time.” She sniffed, prompting him to do the same. Had they started the fire?
“David, do you smell something?”
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