Troy swung his feet back up onto the desk and went back to the
Southern Cal report.
In the parking lot, Alec found his little sport jet and fired up. He
eased into the line of cars filing out of the headquarters compound
and shot into the stream of homeward-bound traffic on the state
expressway. The torrent of vehicles was moving along at an almost
steady seventy miles an hour. Alec worked his way into the middle lane
since he would be crossing the entire city to reach his apartment
complex on the north side. The expressway roar turned into a hollow
thunder as it threaded its way for five miles under the high NorCom
Thruway that carried high speed traffic across and around the city.
Troy finished reading the prospectus about an hour later and then he,
too, left the office. He drove to a small restaurant near Coeur
d'Alene for dinner and then, yawning and tired from the night in the
mountains and the work of the past two days, headed for his small
bachelor apartment on the east side of Spokane.
He watched the vidicast for a half hour and then mixed a nightcap,
downed it, bathed and piled into bed. He was sound asleep by 2000.
Across the city, young Jimmy Patterson played with his father, howled
and talked his mother out of taking a bath and was put to bed. Alec
and Carol curled up on the divan to watch the same show Troy was
viewing. At 2030 they, too, were in bed and asleep. The sounds of the
city were deadened by the high insulation construction of the
building. Possibly half of the nearly three million residents of
Greater Spokane were asleep in their beds shortly after midnight, but
the other half were either at work or play when the earthquake hit.
There were three distinct and violent temblors, lasting from one to
four minutes. The great buildings of the metropolis swayed, glass
shattered and fell amidst the screams of frightened thousands. But the
city was built to withstand fringe nuclear destruction and the damage
was relatively light. The shocks rocked the entire Northwest and were
felt from British Columbia as far south as San Francisco and east to
Salt Lake City.
In his bachelor apartment, Troy was sprawled on the edge of his bed
when the first shock wave struck. The shuddering, stomach-churning
wave tossed him to the floor and a picture dropped to smash against
the floor.
[Illustration]
"What the hell," Troy exclaimed in shocked sleepiness as he tried to
get up. The floor continued to sway under him. He got to his hands and
knees and fought to orient himself and his thinking about what was
happening.
His first thought was an explosion and he staggered toward the window.
There was no sign of one. A minute later, the second and lighter
tremblor hit and he grabbed for support.
Across the city Alec and Carol sat up wide awake during the last
instants of the first jolt. Without a word and with a single mind,
they rushed for the other bedroom to seize and comfort the frightened
and crying Jimmy. They were clutching him closely when the second
shock struck.
"It's a quake," Alec analyzed calmly, "nothing to be frightened
about." He, too, walked to the window to see if there were outer signs
of damage. When it looked fairly normal, he went back to the bed to
help Carol calm the frightened child.
"Mother Nature is just shaking things into place a little," Alec told
his son. "It's nothing to fear, old man. Come on, let's go out in the
kitchen and get a cup of hot chocolate and then we'll all go back to
bed."
Jimmy wiped his eyes and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. "Can
I sleep in with you and Mom," he asked.