Read Online The Hole by William Meikle - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: William Meikle
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only darkness ahead, with no indication of the extent of this new collapse. Bill got out of the car.
“Stay here,” he said.
Yeah, like that’s going to happen.
She got out and joined him. The hole at their feet seemed bottomless, falling away almost vertically below them. Janet felt her head swim, and her legs start to go out from under her. Bill pulled her away, only a foot or so, but enough for the vertigo to subside. Smoke and the smell of burning rubber rose from the hole, but there was no indication what was down there. Janet was still trying to gauge the size of the thing when Bill let out a soft expletive.
She looked up and followed his gaze.
It looked like the whole north end of town was gone. At the farthest part away from where they stood, where the trailer park had been, several fresh fires burned. A scream came on the wind, quickly cut off. There were some trailers remaining, a handful at most, but there had been more than a hundred earlier, most of them with families, with children.
Between what was left of the trailer park and where Bill and Janet stood, the town looked like it had been bombed. It was almost too dark to see, for the street lighting had failed, but there were enough fires to show a vision of hell.
What had once been three neat streets of well-maintained houses and gardens was now a jumble of broken timber, twisted roofing and mangled plumbing. Water sprayed high from burst pipes, small fires burned exposed drapery and bedding and electricity sparked where downed wires slithered like snakes across the rubble. Janet saw what she took to be a doll lying on the remains of a sofa, bent and broken. But it was no doll; it was a child, no more than five years old, neck broken and discarded like a rag by whatever disaster had befallen the town.
She hadn’t noticed that Bill had left her side, and was now on the squad car radio.
“We need backup out here. Everything we’ve got. And call County, the National Guard…anybody you can think of.”
Somebody replied, too faintly for Janet to hear at this distance.
“No…an ambulance and the fire truck won’t be enough,” Bill shouted in reply. “Get everybody out of bed and down here. And do it now.”
The big man was red in the face and shaking, whether in fury or grief Janet couldn’t tell, but he was working himself up into quite a state. Janet was about to head over to try and calm the sheriff when she heard a weak cry, then two more, from her left.
“Help. Please. Help us.”
She picked her way over to the edge of the hole and looked down. It was dark down there, but the glare from the car headlights behind her gave her just enough light to see by. A family of two adults and three kids were making their slow way up the precarious slope. They looked like something from a war newsreel; mud-stained, pale with the wide, unbelieving eyes of victims.
And there was blood. Lots of it.
Just looking down brought back a fresh spell of dizziness. She looked to Bill, but the big man was still on the radio, still trying to impress the severity of the situation on his subordinates. Janet turned her back to the hole and edged down over the lip, keeping her gaze on the wall of earth in front of her face as she went down, her doctor’s instincts overriding all caution. Luckily the ground here was more clay than earth and although that meant it was hard going reaching the family, it meant less likelihood of the ground giving way beneath her. Her feet sucked and threatened to stick. She dug her toes into the thick soil and lowered herself, inch by inch.
“Help,” a voice called out, much closer now. She chanced a look down. She was only a foot or so above the struggling family. She allowed herself to slide down to where the small group still struggled upward.
“Thank God,” the father whispered. “I thought we were the only ones left.”
The man looked near exhaustion. Janet took the weight of a young girl who was slumped, exhausted,
“Stay here,” he said.
Yeah, like that’s going to happen.
She got out and joined him. The hole at their feet seemed bottomless, falling away almost vertically below them. Janet felt her head swim, and her legs start to go out from under her. Bill pulled her away, only a foot or so, but enough for the vertigo to subside. Smoke and the smell of burning rubber rose from the hole, but there was no indication what was down there. Janet was still trying to gauge the size of the thing when Bill let out a soft expletive.
She looked up and followed his gaze.
It looked like the whole north end of town was gone. At the farthest part away from where they stood, where the trailer park had been, several fresh fires burned. A scream came on the wind, quickly cut off. There were some trailers remaining, a handful at most, but there had been more than a hundred earlier, most of them with families, with children.
Between what was left of the trailer park and where Bill and Janet stood, the town looked like it had been bombed. It was almost too dark to see, for the street lighting had failed, but there were enough fires to show a vision of hell.
What had once been three neat streets of well-maintained houses and gardens was now a jumble of broken timber, twisted roofing and mangled plumbing. Water sprayed high from burst pipes, small fires burned exposed drapery and bedding and electricity sparked where downed wires slithered like snakes across the rubble. Janet saw what she took to be a doll lying on the remains of a sofa, bent and broken. But it was no doll; it was a child, no more than five years old, neck broken and discarded like a rag by whatever disaster had befallen the town.
She hadn’t noticed that Bill had left her side, and was now on the squad car radio.
“We need backup out here. Everything we’ve got. And call County, the National Guard…anybody you can think of.”
Somebody replied, too faintly for Janet to hear at this distance.
“No…an ambulance and the fire truck won’t be enough,” Bill shouted in reply. “Get everybody out of bed and down here. And do it now.”
The big man was red in the face and shaking, whether in fury or grief Janet couldn’t tell, but he was working himself up into quite a state. Janet was about to head over to try and calm the sheriff when she heard a weak cry, then two more, from her left.
“Help. Please. Help us.”
She picked her way over to the edge of the hole and looked down. It was dark down there, but the glare from the car headlights behind her gave her just enough light to see by. A family of two adults and three kids were making their slow way up the precarious slope. They looked like something from a war newsreel; mud-stained, pale with the wide, unbelieving eyes of victims.
And there was blood. Lots of it.
Just looking down brought back a fresh spell of dizziness. She looked to Bill, but the big man was still on the radio, still trying to impress the severity of the situation on his subordinates. Janet turned her back to the hole and edged down over the lip, keeping her gaze on the wall of earth in front of her face as she went down, her doctor’s instincts overriding all caution. Luckily the ground here was more clay than earth and although that meant it was hard going reaching the family, it meant less likelihood of the ground giving way beneath her. Her feet sucked and threatened to stick. She dug her toes into the thick soil and lowered herself, inch by inch.
“Help,” a voice called out, much closer now. She chanced a look down. She was only a foot or so above the struggling family. She allowed herself to slide down to where the small group still struggled upward.
“Thank God,” the father whispered. “I thought we were the only ones left.”
The man looked near exhaustion. Janet took the weight of a young girl who was slumped, exhausted,
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