Hide'n Go Seek (2 page)

No little girl in a rope harness.

They were all gone.

K
ali closed her eyes in a useless effort to ignore her surroundings. She hated hospitals, drugs, even doctors. Her parents had died after a car accident killed her father outright and left her mother barely hanging on to life for a few days before she succumbed to her injuries. Kali hadn't been in a hospital since.

Today she'd had little choice.

After the disastrous loss of the rescue workers and that poor little Mexican girl, Brad had taken control. He’d determined her arm was badly sprained, shipping her home with Shiloh crated and at her side. He'd stayed behind to continue the rescue efforts. Numb with shock, Kali remembered little of the trip home. Stan, her boss and mentor, had been waiting for her at the airport, his gray sparse hair sticking straight out in all directions as usual. He’d driven her directly to the hospital. Kali had been beyond arguing. Good thing, too, her left forearm was cracked, just below the elbow.

The painkillers Brad had stuffed down her throat prior to loading her on the plane accounted, in part, for her silence since landing. The loss of the little girl, Inez, hurt her beyond words. The loss of the rescuers was another painful reminder of the dangers inherent in her profession. Those poor families.

Kali had seen more death than eighty percent of the people in the world. She hadn't had much experience with the process, just the aftermath. A hot tear leaked from the corner of her eye. That poor child. In her mind, Kali could clearly see the grimy smile and the excited wave as Inez surfaced.

So much loss. The tears dripped faster. Kali hated breaking down. The litany of reasons she worked disasters repeated like an old broken record.
To save the people I can, bring closure to the families, and stand for the victim.

"There, there, dearie. Are you in pain? The doctor's going to be here soon. We'll get that arm casted in a couple of minutes. Then you can go home and rest."

All nurses should resemble grandmothers. This one oozed comfortable reassurance that gave Kali the impression everything would be all right. That was the problem with impressions. They lied.

She wasn't sure anything would ever be okay again. Despite the many disasters she had experienced, the many rescues she'd participated in, she'd never been faced with a survivor dying the way this child had. And had never been this badly affected. Naïve? Maybe. Those who survived were always rushed away to a hospital. Sometimes they succumbed to their injuries, but they did so where Kali wasn’t watching. Of course those deaths had hurt. But they hadn't been as up-close and personal as seeing this child vanish before her eyes.

During the plane ride home, she hadn't managed to quell the disquieting sense that maybe she should have stayed and searched those cement slabs herself. Maybe the other rescuers had missed an opening, a crevasse somewhere. Maybe Sergeant had made a mistake. Maybe life had survived in that heap of unforgiving rock and concrete.

But life wasn't fair. When Brad had called Stan to pick her up at the airport, he'd filled him in on the details. Details that hadn't included a happy ending.

Kali wiped her eyes with her good arm, staring despondently at the wet streak across her sleeve. She had to stop thinking about it.

The middle-aged doctor strolled in. "Kali, the x-rays look good. You just need a cast to immobilize it and time to heal." The doctor's smile was both gentle and understanding.

The nurse beamed as if she'd created this happy outcome by herself. Kali stared at them both, dazed. So what if her arm was a simple break? It was still broken. She still wouldn't be able to return to Mexico or help Inez.

The nurse escorted Kali to the treatment room. Twenty minutes later her left arm sported a deep-purple cast. Stan hovered, asking questions and pestering Kali to stay awake. He snatched up the prescription when the doctor handed it over and said he'd get it filled at the hospital pharmacy.

Kali wanted to get home and be alone with Shiloh, who currently waited in Stan's truck. Stan returned within minutes, a small white package sticking out of his pocket. "Let's go, kiddo."

Conversations flowed around her, bits and pieces floating through her awareness. Something about shock, see her doctor, and rest. Kali rose and followed Stan blindly. Shiloh barked as they approached, her tail wagging hard.

"Sorry for the long wait, Sweetheart." Kali hugged her tight, giving her a good scratch on her ruff. "We're going home."

Home meant a fifteen-minute drive south of Portland’s center to her house on the coast. When they arrived, it was all Kali could do to make it up the front stairs.

Stan put her pain meds on the table, then hauled in her gear. Shiloh bounded inside, barking once.

Kali stood at the bottom of the stairs, weaving on her feet. Pain, drugs and exhaustion blended toward an inevitable collapse.

"Kali, can you manage a shower or do you want to wait until later?"

They both looked at the purple fiberglass cast on the one arm with the clean white fingers poking through and then at the other not quite so clean arm. The result of someone's half-attempt to clean her up.

"Sleep first, then a soak in the bath," she whispered.

"Let's get you upstairs."

Like a mother hen, Stan laid down a blanket to protect her sheets from the grime coating her hair and skin. Turning back to Kali he helped her remove her boots.

"I'll grab you a glass of water, while you get undressed." Stan walked into the bathroom while she struggled to shimmy out of her soiled jeans and tee-shirt before crawling under her duvet. She pulled the covers up to her chin.

Stan returned to place a glass of water and her pills on her night table. "Get some rest now. I'm going to the center for a few hours. I'll check on you later."

Shiloh, ever the opportunist, jumped up beside Kali and curled up into a ball. Kali rolled over to elevate her injured arm on the dog's shoulder and closed her eyes.

Stan turned off the lights. Before leaving the room, he added, "Look after yourself, Kali. Everyone has to deal with death and disaster in their way. Go easy on yourself. You did your best. That's all anyone can ask of you."

With that he walked away, his footsteps fading away in the distance.

All anyone could ask of her? What about what she asked of herself?

Today sucked. One more day in a long series of the same. Clouds gathered overhead. They suited his mood.

"Hey, Texan. I wanted to thank you for your involvement here." Adam spoke around the cigar butt in his mouth.

Texan? He'd worked hard to minimize that drawl. Still, if that's what this guy saw, it was hardly an insult. He could tolerate it, identify with it even. He sat on one of the many large rocks that dotted the unforgiving terrain. Brown dusty bushes similar to the sage brush found across Texas dotted the Mexican hillside.

The rescue teams had taken a severe hit with that last quake. Seven rescue workers and the little survivor from the original quake, dead. Kali Jordan injured and shipped home. Her departure had hit them all hard. Especially him. Even though she'd laugh if she knew.

Chaos had ensued in the short term, depression, and lethargy in the aftermath. Things had yet to be reorganized. No one cared anymore, apathetically accepting what life dished out. It was as if the simple beliefs of the locals had come true. He cast his thoughts to the old woman he'd found on the first day. She'd clutched his hand, speaking in broken English as she died. What was it she'd said? Something about it being God's will? The earthquakes, their punishment for a lifetime of sins?

Now, hours later, shadows blanketed the area. People littered the ground. Not moving, not talking, just staring into the emptiness of their lives. He looked over at Adam squatting under low hanging branches, smoking. Blue white fog curled upward through the leaves.

What an idiot. Adam was one of the lucky ones, pulled free early on. He should have been dead, and could have been maimed for life. Instead, that caring old woman had died and Adam had survived with only a cracked wrist. A break that still allowed him to move the cigarette to and from his mouth. Disgusting. Adam made him feel old today.

God he hurt. He'd worked the south quadrant of the main center. Mostly houses. Mostly dead inhabitants. Shifting on the rock, he tried to ignore the other man. Fatigue had taken over as despair settled on his soul. He closed his eyes, grateful for the last few moments of daylight.

Adam wouldn't leave him in peace.

"That’s a good thing you did here, helping everyone out like that. Good job." Adam spoke around the butt in his mouth.

Another stream of smoke drifted his way. What a filthy habit. Nodding in response to Adam, he narrowed his eyes and waved off the smoke. Adam's skin was scored with wrinkles and his bloodshot eyes would have fit a man who'd spent decades searching for the bottom of a bottle - not a man in his mid-twenties. "Did you ever consider giving up smoking? You got a second chance today. Don't you want to make the most of it?"

"I'm going to. Tonight I'm going to find me a hot woman, and I'm going to fuck her until
she's
almost dead." Adam howled, his open mouth showing yellowed and missing teeth. Evidence of heavy tobacco and probable drug use. The drug of choice here was marijuana, wasn't it? Or maybe it was cocaine? Not that it mattered, Adam hadn't taken care of himself before the disaster and had no intention of doing anything about it now.

What a waste.

"Remember the rescue angel, you know, one of them SARs people like you? Now I wish I could ride her tonight. Those long legs, wowzers. That walk of hers should be illegal. Definitely put a spell on my poor pecker." Adam frowned at the lack of response. "You should know the pair. The furry bitch is Shiloh. Don't know what the two-legged bitch is called. She must be from one of them foreign Nordic countries."

Staring off into the darkening sky helped tone down the fire of rage in his belly. His fists curled. How dare this asshole talk about Kali Jordan like that? Of course he knew her. Not as well as he'd like to. He'd worked on many sites with her. Besides, with so many rescue totals to her credit, it was hard not to know of her. She was famous. She was special. His grip on his temper slid. His stomach knotted, barely containing the bubbling acid in his gut. The bastard had no right to even speak of her.

"Hmmm mmm." Adam took another long drag of the cigarette barely clinging to his lips. He cackled then coughed, loud wheezing rasps driving up from his belly. His red-rimmed eyes lit with unholy amusement. "A couple of centuries ago, she'd have been burned at the stake for that walk of hers. I'm gonna catch me some z's and dream of a witch." With a carefree wave, Adam flicked the still burning cigarette to the dirt before returning to his shadowy hollow. Within minutes, guttural snores wafted out from the burrow. The dust settled on top of him, even as the light evening shadows crept over him.

A witch? Watching Adam sleep, he tasted the word, rolling it around in his mouth. Hardly. Kali's skills were hard to explain, harder to understand, even for those who did the same work. Her record unbeaten. How many jobs had he done? How many times had he wondered why Kali was always so blessed in finding people when he was the one who prayed? He was the one who honored Him. He'd tried to emulate her, hoping for similar success - without much luck. Now another reason surfaced. One he hadn't considered.

Did she have unworldly skills? Nah, surely not. She epitomized everything good in a person. Could it be that she was too good?

It would explain why she had such phenomenal success.

Troubled, he realized the more he tried, the less anything changed. He worked hard. He went to church. He believed in the good of all people. So why, with all the effort he put into his work, did it never make a difference? It needed to make a difference.
He
needed it to make a difference. Otherwise, why was he here? Why was anyone here?

Studying the ground, his gaze narrowed in thought. That old woman from his first day was never far from his mind. She’d been so peaceful with her death. It was her time, she’d said then. He’d thought it unfair. What if he had it wrong? What if he had it backwards?

What if this act of nature, this earthquake, was really an act of God? What if God created these
natura
l disasters to call home the people He needed, when He needed them? What if they weren't the horrible accidents everyone said they were?

Once he latched on to that train of thought, he couldn't let it go.

God had created this planet and put Mother Earth in charge. She carried out his orders. Therefore, it followed that if she'd created this earthquake, it had been with God's consent. If that was what God wanted, saving these people buried by rubble was going
against
His wishes.

He sat back stunned. He looked around to see if the sky had turned purple or the trees had suddenly grown upside down. After all, his whole belief system had flipped.

Glancing over at Adam's burrow, he could see a bare foot sticking out from the overhang. Adam was the type of person he'd been rescuing these last few days. Sure, there had been a couple of children included in the group, yet several had been single asshole males like this one.

"Why? Why bother?" He looked up to the sky for answers. "What do you want me to do, Lord?"

All these years he'd been told that God was the creator of all. He believed it, knew it deep inside to be true. His faith had been the mainstay of his world. So then God had to be the creator of this earthquake. How simple. Why had he never made that connection before? If God had made this earthquake happen, it was because he wanted these results. He wanted these people to die. And if He wanted it, He had to have a good reason. It was not Man's job to wonder or to question why.

God had called these people home.

Just as the old woman had said, it was God's will.

He straightened, his face brightening with enlightenment. By SAR's intervention, these people hadn't followed God's orders. He suddenly understood. These people needed to go home. Search and Rescue work was going against His will. The best of them being the worst of them all - Kali.