Wild (11 page)

He didn’t act on any of these urges, and his unrequited lust didn’t make the moment any less satisfying. They were on the ground and safe again. He felt like a hero. She’d hugged him back without reservation. It was good.

Trent’s voice on the radio interrupted the moment. “You guys okay?”

Helena fumbled for her radio while Josh took the keys out of his pocket. “We’re okay,” she said into the receiver, glancing at Josh. Her voice was kind of quaky and low-pitched, huskier than usual. He imagined it was the way she’d sound just before she had an orgasm, and he almost dropped the keys.

She looked through the back windshield, waving at Louis and Trent. Then she settled into the passenger seat. “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER NINE

T
HEY SPENT MOST
of the day underground.

It was dark, and dank, and unpleasant. Chloe’s leg ached every time she moved, and her butt was numb from sitting. She shivered off and on, more from fear than cold. The fire raged on outside, destroying part of the roof and triggering periodic explosions in the distance. Smoke permeated the upper level of the building.

Emma seemed aware of the danger and tension all around them. She asked about Mommy’s ouchie, Uncle Josh and the earthquakes. She got bored with the penlight and wanted to go upstairs. She demanded more gummy bears.

Mateo had been a godsend, but he didn’t have an endless supply of candy. When the gummy bears were gone, Emma started to cry. Chloe hugged the toddler tight, crooning lullabies and patting her back until her daughter fell into a fitful sleep, sucking her two fingers. It wasn’t that much different from a normal day, as far as Emma’s behavior.

Chloe tried to relax while Emma was quiet, but her mind refused to stop churning. How long would they have to stay down here? Would the fire burn out or rise higher, fed by broken gas lines and massive fuel spills?

They had no food. Very little water, unless she counted what was in the pipes. They’d have to venture back outside eventually.

Mateo’s presence gave her a small measure of comfort. Being with him was almost like being alone because they didn’t speak the same language, but it was nice to see another face in the dim light. His shoulder felt strong and solid against hers. He sat right beside her, as close as a boyfriend would get. Either he was trying to keep her warm, or he had a very casual sense of boundaries. She didn’t mind. He hadn’t put his arm around her again, nor had he lingered over the contact this morning.

Chloe was too tired and miserable to attempt a stilted conversation. He understood very little English, and she knew about ten words in Spanish. Emma had no reservations about engaging him, however. She chattered away, unconcerned by his inability to follow. He listened carefully and responded often, seeming amused by her. His interest was clear; Emma didn’t need his full comprehension.

Chloe liked his voice. It was low-pitched and friendly. He spoke Spanish with an unusual accent, a sort of musical cadence that was unlike the rapid-fire exchanges she’d heard before. Maybe Panama was the Jamaica of Latin America.

The day dragged on. No tsunamis struck, and the warning alarms stopped blaring. Some of the smoke cleared. There were no more aftershocks. Emma awoke from her nap, hungry.

When Chloe’s stomach growled, Mateo rose to his feet. He pointed at the stairs and made binoculars with his fists.

Emma had no trouble interpreting him. “I look, too!”

“No,” Chloe said. “You can’t go with him.”

Mateo hurried up the stairs while Emma screamed and kicked in Chloe’s lap. Her little foot glanced off Chloe’s injured leg, making her gasp in pain.

“He’ll be right back,” Chloe said.

Emma wasn’t good at waiting. Two seconds or two hours, it didn’t matter to her. She had no real concept of time, like most toddlers. When Chloe tried to distract her with the penlight, Emma threw the item at the stairs. Luckily, Mateo was quick. He came down the stairs wearing an optimistic expression.

“Ya,”
he said, offering her his hand.

If he wanted to venture outside, Chloe wasn’t going to argue. She was stiff and sore from sitting so long. She let go of Emma and hobbled to her feet. As soon as she rose, gravity took its toll. The blood drained from her head and an uncomfortable weight settled in her bladder. She winced, pressing her fingertips to the inseam of her jeans.

Mateo frowned at this action.
“Que pasa?”

“Nothing,” she said, jerking her hand away from her crotch.

He asked her another question, still concerned.

“I just have to pee.”

“Yo también,”
he said with a nod.
“Vámanos.”

Getting up the stairs wasn’t any easier than coming down them. She let Emma go first. The adults followed, with Mateo supporting her left side. Once they reached the main floor, the smell of charred wood assaulted her nostrils. Part of the roof was gone. She lifted Emma into her arms and shuffled forward, through the open door.

The destruction to their immediate surroundings wasn’t as bad as Chloe had expected. There was a disturbing combination of untouched green grass, singed eucalyptus trees and smoldering ruins. The pavilions had burned to the ground. Seaside Village was flattened. Most of the restaurants and small businesses in the area had been decimated.

It looked post-apocalyptic, but not unrecognizable. Many of the city’s large skyscrapers and major hotels were still standing. For now. The fires hadn’t died down—they’d just spread inland. Everything that could burn here had already burned. Fresh, dark smoke clouds rose from the downtown neighborhoods in the distance.

Beyond the embarcadero, the bay was lit up like a roman candle. Flames had engulfed the naval weapons station and international airport, creating a thick black fog across the coast. She could barely see the setting sun through the hazy curtain. The western sky swirled with violent colors, deep pink and toxic orange. It was horrifically beautiful.

“Fire hot,” Emma said.

Chloe tightened her grip on her daughter. She didn’t know which direction to travel. The air quality was terrible, with strong chemical fumes and eye-irritating smoke. Bits of ash and debris floated on the wind.

“Allá,”
Mateo said, pointing to a public restroom at the end of the bike path. Concrete walls had protected it from fire damage.

She limped alongside Mateo, eager to reach the structure. Her leg ached a little less than before, and she was able to put some weight on her foot. But the dock shoes were a loose fit, and carrying Emma was awkward. They needed a better mode of transportation. When they arrived at the restrooms, Chloe went inside with Emma. The basic fixtures appeared undamaged. Before she closed the door, Mateo rattled the handle and shook his head.

He didn’t want her to lock it.

She accepted this condition easily. At least he wasn’t trying to assist her.

Emma had to go, so Chloe perched her on the commode and held her there. This was one of the secret miseries of motherhood that no one talked about. Chloe couldn’t eat, sleep, or use the toilet until her child had been taken care of.

Just once, she’d like to pee
first.

When Emma was finished, Chloe set her aside. Wincing, she removed the sock that was tied around her thigh. The laceration underneath was about six inches across, and seeping blood.

She needed stitches, but she’d live. It was a superficial wound, not a shark bite.

“Owie,” Emma said.

“Hold this,” she said, giving Emma the wet sock.

“Go out.”

“Don’t you dare,” she warned. The last time they were in a public restroom, Emma had opened the door and left the stall while Chloe was occupied.

So embarrassing.

She wrestled her jeans down her hips, holding her breath as the damp fabric dragged over her abraded flesh. Then she sat and relieved herself. Rising was a challenge, so she gripped the aluminum bar beside the toilet for balance. The flush worked, but the sink had no water. She secured the sock around her leg and grasped Emma’s hand before exiting the restroom. Mateo was waiting by the door.

“Listas?”

They were ready. Together they stumbled across the green hills of the park, making slow progress. Although Chloe let Emma walk beside them, she kept her eye on the blackened palm trees nearby. They resembled giant torches, still burning.

Seaside Village had been reduced to ashes. They found a cobblestone path among the remains of quaint boutiques and quirky cafés. Chloe wasn’t sure where they were going. She wanted to get away from the noxious smoke, and she couldn’t bear the thought of returning to the cramped utility room.

Traveling inland meant entering the Gaslight District, which might offer no shelter whatsoever. And it would be getting dark soon.

Mateo paused in an empty parking lot as they left the embarcadero. There was a half-destroyed liquor store across the street. He urged her that direction. As they got closer, Chloe noticed the downed power lines at the end of the block. A driver had lost control of his vehicle and struck a telephone pole. The pole had fallen, crushing the SUV and obstructing the intersection. Everything had burned. There was a corpse slumped behind the wheel. Chloe could see bits of white skull beneath the blistered flesh.

She picked up Emma and hugged the child’s head to her chest, determined to shield her from the macabre scene.

Mateo went inside the liquor store for more supplies. The place appeared to have been ransacked, but it was hard to tell. While he stepped over jagged shards of glass, Chloe edged away from the front window. She was chilled by the sight of the dead body at the intersection. There were more where that came from. Inside demolished buildings and crashed cars. They were all around here.

As she recoiled from the thought, her heel brushed something rubbery. She looked down at a man’s discolored arm, sticking out from underneath a crumbled block wall. His hand was open, fingers slack with death.

Smothering a shriek, she lurched forward and covered Emma’s eyes, horrified by the disembodied appendage.

Mateo came out of the store with his beach bag full. His eyes moved from Chloe’s face to the arm and back again. The opposite intersection was blocked, so they had no choice but to skirt by the corpse and keep going.

At the corner, he looked east and said something that sounded like “hospital.” He pronounced it without the
H
, and stressed the last syllable, so she wasn’t sure.

“Hospital?” she asked.

“Sí.”

The closest one she could think of was the naval hospital, near the wildlife park. Josh went there for exams and treatment. It was several miles inland, on the other side of the Gaslight District. A chaotic maze of fire and rubble awaited them. Injured, with a toddler, climbing over debris and inhaling smoke…it wouldn’t be easy.

But what else could they do? Heading in that direction was as good a plan as any. Maybe they’d find help on the way. She pointed east and nodded.

Before setting off, they shared the snacks Mateo had gathered. He’d grabbed chips, chocolate cupcakes and soda. Emma was delighted by the contraband items. She’d never had so many unhealthy snacks in one sitting. Although Chloe was starving, the sight of charred flesh had killed her appetite. She ate a few chips and sipped soda, her skin crawling.

When they were finished, Mateo picked up Emma. She touched his jaw with chocolate-grubby fingers. Exploring, not protesting.

Chloe didn’t argue the arrangement, either. It was easier for her to walk without Emma’s added weight. They continued down Harbor Drive. The streets were empty, which was bizarre in a city known for gridlock. Parked vehicles appeared unoccupied. Everyone must have fled the coast when the tsunami alarms sounded.

Ash and dust particles hung in the air as they reached the iconic sign at the entrance to the historic district. The massive arch hung drunkenly at one corner. The other end had fallen and smashed into the curb.

The Gaslight District was San Diego’s party central. Chloe had never been to the bars or nightclubs here. She and Josh lived in Hillcrest, a lively neighborhood north of the zoo. She didn’t date. After breaking up with Lyle, she’d sworn off drugs and alcohol. She had no reason to visit the trendy, touristy hotspots.

Many of the older buildings in the district were made of brick or stone, fire-resistant but not earthquake-proof. Although the structures had sustained considerable damage, they weren’t engulfed in flames, and the air quality here was better. Maybe this was the best route to take through the city, after all.

As they shuffled past the creaking sign, the ground began to tremble. Another aftershock! It rumbled down the street like a gang of motorcycles, gaining strength and momentum.

She ducked under the eaves of a nearby building with Emma and Mateo. There was an ominous snapping sound, and then…

Crash.

The sign broke loose and slammed down on the sidewalk, very close to where they’d just been standing. Chloe put her arm around Emma and clung to Mateo, smothering a cry of distress. This quake was shorter than the others but it still packed a punch.

When it was over, Chloe glanced around warily. Twilight had crept over the city, bringing grainy dimness and a slight chill. They were only a block in, and she was already exhausted. The downtown area had never looked so deserted, or so menacing. She imagined a parade of zombies waking at dusk and emerging from the rubble.

Mateo asked if she was okay. At least, that’s what she thought he said. Emma sucked her two fingers and stared at the broken sign with big brown eyes. Chloe did what she’d always done. She squared her shoulders and kept going.

It was the most unpleasant journey of her life. They encountered numerous obstacles. Huge rifts in the roads, downed power lines, abandoned vehicles. The only other people they saw were a group of young men looting a video store. One of them stood on the sidewalk with a baseball bat. Mateo put his arm around Chloe and kept his gaze forward as they skirted by, saying nothing.