Soul Harvest: The World Takes Sides Read Free Page B

five-bedroom, two-story homes into oblivion and leave untouched a tiny utility shed? Buck could only surmise that the structure was so flexible it did not snap when the earth rolled beneath it.
    Loretta’s home had shrunk flat where it sat, leaving her backyard empty and bare. All this, Buck realized, had happened in seconds.
    A fire truck with makeshift bullhorns on the back rolled slowly into view behind Buck. As he hung on that vertical stretch of pavement, he heard: “Stay out of your homes! Do not return to your homes! If you need help, get to an open area where we can find you!”
    A half-dozen police officers and firefighters rode the giant ladder truck. A uniformed cop leaned out the window. “You all right there, buddy?”
    “I’m all right!” Buck hollered.
    “That your vehicle?”
    “Yes!”
    “We could sure use it in the relief effort!”
    “I’ve got people I’m trying to dig out!” Buck said.
    The cop nodded. “Don’t be trying to get into any of these homes!”
    Buck let go and slid to the ground. He walked toward the fire truck as it slowed to a stop. “I heard the announcement, but what are you guys talking about?”
    “We’re worried about looters. But we’re also worried about danger. These places are hardly stable.”
    “Obviously!” Buck said. “But looters? You are the only healthy people I’ve seen.
    There’s nothing of value left, and where would somebody take anything if they found it?”
    “We’re just doing what we’re told, sir. Don’t try to go in any of the homes, OK?”
    “Of course I will! I’m gonna be digging through that house to find out if somebody I know and love is still alive.”
    “Trust me, pal, you’re not going to find survivors on this street. Stay out of there.”
    “Are you gonna arrest me? Do you have a jail still standing?”
    The cop turned to the fireman driving. Buck wanted an answer. Apparently, the cop was more levelheaded than he was, because they slowly rolled away. Buck scaled the wall of pavement and slid down the other side, covering his entire front with mud. He tried wiping it off, but it stuck between his fingers. He slapped at his pants to get the bulk of it off his hands, then hurried between the fallen trees to the front of the fractured house.

    It seemed to Rayford that the closer he got to the Baghdad airport, the less he could see. Great fissures had swallowed every inch of runway in all directions, pushing mounds of dirt and sand several feet into the air, blocking a view of the terminal. As Rayford made his way through, he could barely breathe. Two jumbo jets—one a 747 and the other a DC-10, apparently fully loaded and in line for takeoff on an east-west runway—appeared to have been in tandem before the earthquake slammed them together and ripped them apart. The result was piles of lifeless bodies. He couldn’t imagine the force of a collision that would kill so many without a fire.
    From a massive ditch on the far side of the terminal, at least a quarter mile from where Rayford stood, a line of survivors clawed their way to the surface from another swallowed aircraft. Black smoke billowed from deep in the earth, and Rayford knew if he was close enough he could hear the screams of survivors not strong enough to climb out. Of those who emerged, some ran from the scene, while most, like the Asian, staggered trancelike through the desert.
    The terminal itself, formerly a structure of steel and wood and glass, had not only been knocked flat, but it had also been shaken as a prospector would sift sand through a screen. The pieces were spread so widely that none of the piles stood higher than two feet. Hundreds of bodies lay in various states of repose.
    Rayford felt as if he were in hell.
    He knew what he was looking for. Amanda’s scheduled flight had been on a Pan Continental 747, the airline and equipment he used to fly. It would not have surprised him if she were on one of the very aircraft he had once piloted. It would