Read Online New Title 1 by Dru Pagliassotti - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dru Pagliassotti
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at the same time that shouts had filled the dorm halls.
For a wild minute the hallway was full of students shouting, whooping, swearing, and laughing as they braced themselves in doorways and watched their possessions tumble off bookshelves and desks. Earthquakes were scary but exciting—the ultimate roller coaster ride.
Then the power cut out. Emergency lights flickered once, strobing a flash across the hall that revealed faces twisted with dismay and annoyance, and then they, too, fell dark.
Another jolt hit, and another. Excitement turned into panic. Students began screaming, lurching for the exits or stumbling back into their rooms for flashlights and lighters.
Peter wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her out into the hallway. In her panic, Alison couldn’t remember if you were supposed to stay inside or go outside in an earthquake. But most of her dorm mates were heading outdoors, and there was safety in numbers.
The emergency alarms didn’t go off as they pushed the side doors open, but the students in the front of the crowd screamed and plummeted two stories down to the sidewalks below. The students immediately behind them grabbed the door frame and howled for the pushing to stop before they lost their grip. The outdoor stairway had broken away from the wall, leaving a three-foot gap of space between door and stairs.
Over her friends’ shoulders, Alison saw nothing but darkness: a terrible, deep darkness, like a horror movie.
The power was out all over Vista Hills.
“Wait there,” one of the jocks shouted. He jumped to the crooked emergency stairs, grabbing the iron railing to steady himself. Students cheered as he wrapped an arm around the rail and held out a hand. “Come on. One by one.”
Another man jumped across, grabbing the stairs as they creaked on bent and broken braces.
“Women first!” someone urged. For a moment the male students looked panicked, but the idea caught on, and Alison found herself separated from Peter, pushed forward with other women. For a moment she felt a twinge of feminist guilt, and then she brushed it aside. She wanted out .
They evacuated quickly but efficiently, making the jump with hands guiding them from behind and catching them in front. Alison’s legs were shaking by the time she walked down the shuddering, tilted metal stairs to the ground. Some of her friends were kneeling next to the students who’d fallen, crying as they tried to help them. One girl was on her cell phone muttering “C’mon, c’mon, put me through, damn it!” like a prayer.
Flashlight beams and moonlight revealed blood and broken bone. Alison choked back bile and turned in circles, wondering what to do. Broken glass cut her bare feet.
It wasn’t fun or exciting anymore.
Then the ground jolted again, harder than before, and in the distance something sounded like it was crashing and falling. She sucked in a sharp breath, her heart pounding. More students stampeded down the rickety stairwell, shouting each others’ names, pulling out cell phones, yelling for campus security, and trying to move the injured students out of the way. Cries from the other side of the dorm indicated that students were leaving from other doors and windows, too.
“Ally!” Peter found her, grabbing her shoulder. She jumped, her heart pounding. “Have you seen any of the RAs?”
“No. Omigod, you scared me.” She shuddered, rubbing her arms. She’d been wearing a T-shirt and pajama bottoms in her dorm room, and now the cold December air was cutting through the lightweight cotton as if she were naked. “Maybe they’re on the other side of the hall?”
“Let’s go.” Peter took her hand and started off.
“Wait!” Alison yanked her hand back, flinching. “I cut my foot.”
“Damn.” Peter turned and dropped to a knee, looking at it. Alison winced as his thumb ran over the cut. “Yeah, it’s still bleeding. There’s too much broken glass here—you can’t walk around barefoot.” He
For a wild minute the hallway was full of students shouting, whooping, swearing, and laughing as they braced themselves in doorways and watched their possessions tumble off bookshelves and desks. Earthquakes were scary but exciting—the ultimate roller coaster ride.
Then the power cut out. Emergency lights flickered once, strobing a flash across the hall that revealed faces twisted with dismay and annoyance, and then they, too, fell dark.
Another jolt hit, and another. Excitement turned into panic. Students began screaming, lurching for the exits or stumbling back into their rooms for flashlights and lighters.
Peter wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her out into the hallway. In her panic, Alison couldn’t remember if you were supposed to stay inside or go outside in an earthquake. But most of her dorm mates were heading outdoors, and there was safety in numbers.
The emergency alarms didn’t go off as they pushed the side doors open, but the students in the front of the crowd screamed and plummeted two stories down to the sidewalks below. The students immediately behind them grabbed the door frame and howled for the pushing to stop before they lost their grip. The outdoor stairway had broken away from the wall, leaving a three-foot gap of space between door and stairs.
Over her friends’ shoulders, Alison saw nothing but darkness: a terrible, deep darkness, like a horror movie.
The power was out all over Vista Hills.
“Wait there,” one of the jocks shouted. He jumped to the crooked emergency stairs, grabbing the iron railing to steady himself. Students cheered as he wrapped an arm around the rail and held out a hand. “Come on. One by one.”
Another man jumped across, grabbing the stairs as they creaked on bent and broken braces.
“Women first!” someone urged. For a moment the male students looked panicked, but the idea caught on, and Alison found herself separated from Peter, pushed forward with other women. For a moment she felt a twinge of feminist guilt, and then she brushed it aside. She wanted out .
They evacuated quickly but efficiently, making the jump with hands guiding them from behind and catching them in front. Alison’s legs were shaking by the time she walked down the shuddering, tilted metal stairs to the ground. Some of her friends were kneeling next to the students who’d fallen, crying as they tried to help them. One girl was on her cell phone muttering “C’mon, c’mon, put me through, damn it!” like a prayer.
Flashlight beams and moonlight revealed blood and broken bone. Alison choked back bile and turned in circles, wondering what to do. Broken glass cut her bare feet.
It wasn’t fun or exciting anymore.
Then the ground jolted again, harder than before, and in the distance something sounded like it was crashing and falling. She sucked in a sharp breath, her heart pounding. More students stampeded down the rickety stairwell, shouting each others’ names, pulling out cell phones, yelling for campus security, and trying to move the injured students out of the way. Cries from the other side of the dorm indicated that students were leaving from other doors and windows, too.
“Ally!” Peter found her, grabbing her shoulder. She jumped, her heart pounding. “Have you seen any of the RAs?”
“No. Omigod, you scared me.” She shuddered, rubbing her arms. She’d been wearing a T-shirt and pajama bottoms in her dorm room, and now the cold December air was cutting through the lightweight cotton as if she were naked. “Maybe they’re on the other side of the hall?”
“Let’s go.” Peter took her hand and started off.
“Wait!” Alison yanked her hand back, flinching. “I cut my foot.”
“Damn.” Peter turned and dropped to a knee, looking at it. Alison winced as his thumb ran over the cut. “Yeah, it’s still bleeding. There’s too much broken glass here—you can’t walk around barefoot.” He
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