out.
Nick tried to pull himself up.
Bam!
He was thrown back onto the floor. And then the floor itself began to twist, shake, roll. The room erupted into a sick, violent motion.
CRASH
RUMBLE
CRACK
Nick’s world shifted. Fast, faster. Everything began shaking faster than Nick could take in. He felt tiny, like an ant caught in a tumble of motion.
Nick saw things fly through the air, though his mind couldn’t make sense of it.
First the table. The table shook and turned over. The water pitcher shot across the room and shattered, splashing water everywhere.
The bookcase in the corner toppled over, sending books and the photograph of Mr. Pat and his family crashing to the floor.
Something hit Nick’s head. Plaster from the ceiling. From somewhere beyond his little room he heard rumblings, thunder-like roars, cracklings.
Get out. I need to get out. The building’s falling down.
Shakespeare!
Nick tried to shout the dog’s name, but his voice didn’t seem to work. He tried to find him, to stand, but he couldn’t control his body.
SLAM
He fell back. His elbow banged hard.
The room trembled. Floor, ceiling, walls, objects, everything seemed to be dancing, rolling, moving.
For a second, the shaking let up. Then it started in again, violent and more twisting. An image flashed through Nick’s mind of Gran wringing clothes over the wash tin with her rough, strong hands. That was it. The earth was being wrung out of shape.
Nick shivered. He was in a tiny boat being tossed and rolled on a great stormy sea. At any second, a hole would open and he would fall through. Fall through and disappear, disappear into black emptiness.
Nick cried out.
He’d never been so terrified. It wasn’t like seeing a snake writhing toward him in the grass. Or even the fear of Pa’s temper after a Saturday night in town. This was bigger. A terror of something enormous, violent, menacing, unknown. It was all happening so fast, Nick couldn’t give it a name.
And then from somewhere, his brain coughed up a word.
Earthquake!
He was in an earthquake.
Earthquakes. Miss Reedy had talked about earthquakes in California, something about the pieces of the earth, shifting deep underground. In a way, just naming it made Nick a little less scared.
Earthquake. The world’s not really ending. It’s an earthquake.
And then, in the next second, everything shifted again. The shaking stopped. The air, the ground went still.
Nick coughed. The little room was filled with dust. He didn’t know how long the fierce trembling had lasted. Thirty seconds? A full minute?
I’m alive,
he thought.
I’m still alive.
“Shakespeare?” Nick called.
Nick looked around, suddenly panicked. “Shake? Here, boy!”
The room seemed empty. Then all at once Nick heard a scuffling noise. In the gray light he saw Shakespeare emerge from behind the sofa.
The dog’s dark eyes looked bright and wild. He planted his feet far apart, as though trying to steady himself. His long, feathery tail was tucked down between his legs. Suddenly Shake raised his muzzle and howled once. Then he barked at the air and ran toward the stairway.
Nick’s knees were shaking so hard he didn’t think he could walk. He fumbled, half crawling, across the dim, dusty room. At the top of the stairs, the door had flown open. Before Nick could stop him, Shake had darted out into the street.
“No, wait! Shakespeare, come back. Here, boy,” Nick yelled.
He’s looking for Mr. Pat,
Nick thought, springing into action.
Nick reached the street. Shakespeare was nowhere to be seen.
A FTERSHOCKS
“Shakespeare?” Nick called. “Shake. Here, boy!”
Jackson Street was empty and suddenly still. Nick looked up and down. He couldn’t see anyone, not a dog or another person. Nick had a terrible thought: What if everyone else in the city got swallowed up?
He shivered and stuck his hands in his pockets. Yes, the coins were still there. And then all at once he missed Gran so much it hurt. He
Nick tried to pull himself up.
Bam!
He was thrown back onto the floor. And then the floor itself began to twist, shake, roll. The room erupted into a sick, violent motion.
CRASH
RUMBLE
CRACK
Nick’s world shifted. Fast, faster. Everything began shaking faster than Nick could take in. He felt tiny, like an ant caught in a tumble of motion.
Nick saw things fly through the air, though his mind couldn’t make sense of it.
First the table. The table shook and turned over. The water pitcher shot across the room and shattered, splashing water everywhere.
The bookcase in the corner toppled over, sending books and the photograph of Mr. Pat and his family crashing to the floor.
Something hit Nick’s head. Plaster from the ceiling. From somewhere beyond his little room he heard rumblings, thunder-like roars, cracklings.
Get out. I need to get out. The building’s falling down.
Shakespeare!
Nick tried to shout the dog’s name, but his voice didn’t seem to work. He tried to find him, to stand, but he couldn’t control his body.
SLAM
He fell back. His elbow banged hard.
The room trembled. Floor, ceiling, walls, objects, everything seemed to be dancing, rolling, moving.
For a second, the shaking let up. Then it started in again, violent and more twisting. An image flashed through Nick’s mind of Gran wringing clothes over the wash tin with her rough, strong hands. That was it. The earth was being wrung out of shape.
Nick shivered. He was in a tiny boat being tossed and rolled on a great stormy sea. At any second, a hole would open and he would fall through. Fall through and disappear, disappear into black emptiness.
Nick cried out.
He’d never been so terrified. It wasn’t like seeing a snake writhing toward him in the grass. Or even the fear of Pa’s temper after a Saturday night in town. This was bigger. A terror of something enormous, violent, menacing, unknown. It was all happening so fast, Nick couldn’t give it a name.
And then from somewhere, his brain coughed up a word.
Earthquake!
He was in an earthquake.
Earthquakes. Miss Reedy had talked about earthquakes in California, something about the pieces of the earth, shifting deep underground. In a way, just naming it made Nick a little less scared.
Earthquake. The world’s not really ending. It’s an earthquake.
And then, in the next second, everything shifted again. The shaking stopped. The air, the ground went still.
Nick coughed. The little room was filled with dust. He didn’t know how long the fierce trembling had lasted. Thirty seconds? A full minute?
I’m alive,
he thought.
I’m still alive.
“Shakespeare?” Nick called.
Nick looked around, suddenly panicked. “Shake? Here, boy!”
The room seemed empty. Then all at once Nick heard a scuffling noise. In the gray light he saw Shakespeare emerge from behind the sofa.
The dog’s dark eyes looked bright and wild. He planted his feet far apart, as though trying to steady himself. His long, feathery tail was tucked down between his legs. Suddenly Shake raised his muzzle and howled once. Then he barked at the air and ran toward the stairway.
Nick’s knees were shaking so hard he didn’t think he could walk. He fumbled, half crawling, across the dim, dusty room. At the top of the stairs, the door had flown open. Before Nick could stop him, Shake had darted out into the street.
“No, wait! Shakespeare, come back. Here, boy,” Nick yelled.
He’s looking for Mr. Pat,
Nick thought, springing into action.
Nick reached the street. Shakespeare was nowhere to be seen.
A FTERSHOCKS
“Shakespeare?” Nick called. “Shake. Here, boy!”
Jackson Street was empty and suddenly still. Nick looked up and down. He couldn’t see anyone, not a dog or another person. Nick had a terrible thought: What if everyone else in the city got swallowed up?
He shivered and stuck his hands in his pockets. Yes, the coins were still there. And then all at once he missed Gran so much it hurt. He
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