Jonathan lay still, remembering everything that had happened. He remembered the earthquake, the river flooding, the trees that he and Abby clung to as they floated toward the ocean, singing.
Suddenly, his eyes flew open. He fumbled for the call button that hung on the headboard and pushed it. The nurse hurried back into the room.
“I remember what happened to Abby,” he said. “I have to tell someone where to look for her.”
Minutes later, Jonathan was connected by phone to the National Guard station in the Beaverville High School gym. His father was on the other end of the line.
“We were each riding on a tree,” Jonathan said. “I know we passed Beaverville, because I saw the outline of some buildings and what looked like fires. Not too long after that, Abby’s tree seemed to quit moving. It was as if she got stuck somehow or floated out of the main current. I kept going, but she didn’t.”
As Jonathan talked, Mr. Palmer looked at a large topographical map of the area. “Hold on a minute,” he said, and turned to repeat Jonathan’s words to the National Guardsman who headed the search for Abby. He pointed to a cove on the map. “Right about here,” he said.
“Fish Head Bay,” the guardsman said. “There’s an old pier that sticks out into the river at that point. If Abby floated into the bay, she would be out of the current and would not go any farther downstream.” He turned away from the map and began barking orders into a two-way radio, directing a search party to head immediately for Fish Head Bay.
“Where’s Moose?” Jonathan asked, when his father returned to the telephone.
“He’s here with me, getting spoiled rotten. The men who found you told everyone how Moose laid on top of you and kept you warm. Your dog’s a hero; everyone’s feeding him pieces of doughnut.”
Jonathan smiled.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Mr. Palmer said. “Pray for your sister.”
Jonathan drifted in and out of sleep. Once, in his dreams, he relived the earthquake and woke up trembling, his hospital gown drenched with sweat.
He had no idea how much time had passed. The doctor checked him twice. “You have a concussion,” the doctor said, “and hypothermia, but you’ll heal. You’ll be fine in a few weeks.”
A nurse came in periodically to get his vital signs.
Jonathan slept again.
“Room service,” a voice beside him said.
Jonathan opened his eyes. A nurse stood beside him, holding a tray containing a cup of clear broth, a bowl of red Jell-O, and some vanilla yogurt. “Just like a fancy hotel,” she said, “except you don’t have to tip me.”
She pushed a button and the head end of his bed went up. Although he had no appetite, he ate most of what she brought, knowing he needed nourishment to keep his strength up.
He thought about Abby, guiltily remembering all the times he had resented having to wait for her. What if Abby was never found? What if she was dead?
Jonathan could not imagine life without her.
I did the best I could, Jonathan told himself. I kept her from being too scared; I tried to save her. I did the best I could for Abby. But he didn’t know if his best was good enough.
The needle was removed from his arm, and the bottle taken away.
Jonathan fell asleep, still sitting up. In his dreams, he heard Abby’s small voice singing, “Itsy-bitsy spider.”
The telephone on the bedside table rang. Jonathan jerked awake and grabbed the receiver.
“Hello?”
“They found her!” Mr. Palmer’s voice boomed into Jonathan’s ear. “She seems to be all right! She’s being airlifted to the same hospital you’re in, and I’ve requested that you be put in a double room together. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
Two hours later, men in white uniforms rolled a gurney into Jonathan’s room. The small body under the blanket lay perfectly still. The attendants unbuckled the straps that held the patient in place, and lifted her into the hospital bed.
Abby’s dark hair rested on the white pillowcase. Her eyes were closed.
“Abby?” Jonathan said. “Can you hear me?”
Her eyes opened. She turned her head and stared at Jonathan.
“Hi, Abby,” he said. His arms tingled with excitement. She was alive. She was awake.
“We’re in the hospital,” Jonathan said.
“I know. The doctor told me. Where’s Mommy?”
A voice from the doorway said, “I’m right here.” Mrs. Palmer entered the room in a wheelchair, her right foot and lower leg in a cast. She wheeled between the two beds, stood shakily, and leaned forward to kiss Abby. She turned and kissed Jonathan, too, before she sank back into the wheelchair. “I was so worried about you,” she said, as she wiped tears of joy from her cheeks.
“We were plenty worried, too,” Jonathan said.
The doctor who had examined Abby in the emergency room arrived. “It’s amazing,” he said. “She has some cuts and bruises, and slight hypothermia, but that’s it. We’ll keep her for a day or two for observation but I anticipate no serious problems. You kids were lucky. Both of you.”
A short time later, Mr. Palmer rushed into the room.
“You look as if you should be hospitalized, too,” Mrs. Palmer said, after everyone had briefly explained what happened.
“All I need is a hot shower and a good night’s sleep,” Mr. Palmer replied.
“And some clean clothes,” Jonathan said.
“How did you get here so fast?” Mrs. Palmer asked. “I heard many of the roads are still closed.”
“Some are, but not all. Someone from The Red Cross drove me.”
“What about Moose?” Jonathan asked.
“He’s still at the emergency headquarters in the Beaverton High School. Don’t worry about Moose. Half a dozen people offered to take care of him until we can get back for him. He’s getting so much attention, he probably won’t want to go home with us.”
“I’m hungry,” Abby said.
“The nurse will bring you some hot soup soon,” Mrs. Palmer said. “I heard her order it.”
“I don’t want soup,” Abby said. “Jonathan promised I could have a chocolate cupcake, and three pineapple milk shakes.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Palmer raised her eyebrows.
“Soup first,” Mr. Palmer said firmly.
“And then cupcakes,” Abby said. “Jonathan said I can lick the wrapper.”
Jonathan grinned. He was actually looking forward to those six games of Go, Fish.
Peg Kehret, Earthquake Terror
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