A CALIFORNIA ROSE
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rose gazed up at the sky, her mind drifting
slowly from one thought to another. Had she slept? She wasn’t sure. Images ran
through her mind like photographs, stopping at important scenes. She remembered
standing on the rock, the wind in her hair and Jack’s arms around her.
“Come Josephine in my flying machine...” She
sang softly, remembering that moment. “And it’s up she goes...up she goes...”
She trailed off as she heard the sound of
voices from outside the rubble. Listening carefully, she heard several people
speaking and a dog barking. Rescue workers.
With a start, she realized that the sky was
lightening over her, the first rays of sunlight penetrating the tiny space.
“Jack,” she whispered. “Jack, it’s morning.”
He didn’t respond. His eyes were closed, his
hand still holding hers.
“Jack, wake up.” She shook his hand. “Wake
up, Jack!”
He still didn’t respond. Rose shook his hand,
her voice becoming high-pitched with panic.
“Jack, wake up. Jack! It’s morning, Jack!”
And then, as the rays of sunlight touched the
ground of their small space, she saw the blood that had soaked his clothes and
pooled around him. She looked at him. His face was pale in the morning light,
his hand cold and stiff in hers. She stared at him, realizing.
“Oh, Jack.” She put her head down, sobbing,
wanting to give up. But she couldn’t. She had made a promise, and she would
keep it.
The voices were farther away now, searching
across the street for survivors.
“Come back!” she choked out, her voice too
faint to be heard. “Come back! Come back!”
It was no use. She would have to dig herself
out.
Rose looked at Jack one last time, memorizing
his features. She kissed him, then pried her hand free of his. “I will never
let go. I promise,” she whispered.
She tugged at her foot, pushing it into the
small crack in the pavement. Pain shot through her ankle, but she pulled it
free. Sitting up, she pushed herself into the space that was open to the air.
Balancing precariously on her injured foot,
she stood, her head barely above the debris. Gripping a beam, she pulled
herself up on top of the pile of rubble. There was a cracking sound, and the
pile collapsed, burying Jack under it. Rose kicked her feet free, sliding down
to the broken sidewalk.
No one had noticed her yet; the rescue
workers were searching through the remains of the restaurant. Rose stumbled,
trying to cross the street, then realized that she could never walk that far on
her injured ankle. Spying the dog sniffing at a corner of the building, she
whistled to it. The dog ran toward her, yelping, attracting the attention of
the rescue workers. They looked up to see Rose staggering toward them, her face
covered with dirt and soot, her torn dress stained with blood. One of them
rushed over, catching her as she collapsed, carrying her to a large four wheel
drive vehicle equipped with emergency medical supplies.
Rose tried to speak, but didn’t have the
energy. The last thing she remembered was the paramedic checking her vital
signs before she fainted.