The Wedding Trip

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-2-

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When Curry opened his eyes, he had no idea where he was or what had happened.  He had a vague recollection of a horrendous noise and of him and Cloris getting underneath the bed, and then nothing.

 

He turned his head to the left, seeing numerous other cots, with people on them, and what appeared to be nurses moving in between the rows.  Where the hell was he?

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Turning his head to the right he became aware of his friend lying on the floor beside his cot, sound asleep.

 

What time was it? He wondered. Where was this place? And why was Heyes sleeping on the floor, fully clothed?

 

He tried to recall some other memories but could recall nothing after he and Cloris  had crawled beneath the bed.

 

He looked again at Heyes.  His clothes and hands were dirty, and his face was dusty and grimy and pinched with fatigue.  A dark bruise stood out on his forehead, and there was a dried cut on his right cheek.  What the hell had happened? he wondered.

 

“Heyes?” he whispered, attempting to reach out a hand to shake him awake but gasping in pain as the movement sent daggers through his injured back and shoulder.

 

At the sound, Heyes was instantly awake.

 

“Kid!” He struggled into a sitting position, his expression anxious, “You’re awake!”

 

Curry nodded, as Heyes reached out to place a hand to his forehead to check his temperature.

 

“What happened?” he asked.

 

“There was an earthquake.” said Heyes.

 

Curry’s eyebrows rose,  “An earthquake?”

 

Heyes nodded.

 

“I didn’t know they had earthquakes in this part of the country.” Curry said presently.

 

“They don’t.  Well, nobody seems to remember there being one in their lifetime anyway.” said Heyes,  “How are you feeling?”

 

“Like I was trampled by a horse.” said Curry.

 

"Part of the upper floor of the tavern collapsed.  You fell with it.  Luckily, the bed covered you and stopped you getting crushed by all the debris. But a piece of a window frame pierced your shoulder, so they had to operate to remove it.”

 

Curry nodded, as he processed the information.

 

“What about you? he asked presently.

 

Heyes shrugged,  “I got tossed around our hotel room a bit, but that’s all.”

 

“You look terrible.” said Curry.

 

Heyes looked at the floor,  “We had to dig you out.  Took us a while.” he said, by way of explanation.

 

Curry eyed his despondent expression, knowing there was more he wanted to say.

 

“We found a few… bodies, while we were digging…”  He gave a deep sigh and raised his eyes to meet Curry’s,  “Every time we found one… I was terrified it was gonna be you…”  He shook his head, “It’s hell out there, Kid… If you hadn’t made it, I…” He broke off, passing a hand across his eyes, while Curry watched him compassionately.

 

“The city’s pretty much destroyed.” Heyes continued, gruffly, “The railroad tracks are damaged so there’s no trains in or out… People’s homes have either been destroyed, or they’re too afraid to go back inside, so they’re all out in the street… Water lines are ruptured, there’s fires everywhere… the hospitals are damaged and there’s hundreds, maybe thousands, injured and needing treatment…” He gave a tremulous sigh, as the emotions he’d pushed back since the earthquake – shock, at what had happened, fear that his friend might be dead, grief for those who had died and sorrow for what the people of this city had faced, and would have to face for weeks, maybe months to come - welled up in him, “It’s horrible, Kid…” He broke off, as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him, dropping his face into his hands as he tried to regain control of himself.

 

“What about Cloris?” Curry asked presently.

 

Heyes rubbed his hands over his face and then raked them through his hair as he tried to clear his head.

 

“She’s alive.” he said, gruffly, “Well, she was when I left.  They were digging her out.”   Me and a young doctor carried you here and then they took you in to surgery.”

 

“Where are we?”

 

“Apparently, this is the meeting hall for the Agricultural Society.  It’s only a couple of streets away from the tavern.”

 

“Have they brought Cloris in here?”

 

“I don’t know.” admitted Heyes, “I fell asleep after they took you for surgery.  I haven’t moved from here.”

 

“Can you try and find out?” asked Curry.

 

Heyes nodded,  “I’ll go and see what I can find out.  Do you want some coffee, or water?  Something to eat? Some volunteers have been bringing coffee and food in all night.”

 

“Just some water.” said Curry,  “My throat feels like the bottom of a birdcage.”

 

“That’s all the dust you swallowed.” said Heyes, getting to his feet, “Back in a while.”

 

Walking between the rows of cots and other makeshift beds, Heyes searched for Cloris.  He’d only seen her for a moment or two, before Curry had gone upstairs with her, but he had a fairly good impression of what she looked like.  Reddish hair, piled up on her head, blue eyes, and she had been wearing an emerald green dress.

 

On not finding her in the room he spoke to one or two of the nurses to see if they recalled seeing anyone of her description. None had, but told him that those who had suffered only minor injuries had been treated and released, as they needed the space for more seriously injured patients, and that possibly she had been brought in but since discharged.

 

Thanking them, he went to obtain some water for Curry and another cup of coffee for himself, before making his way back to Curry’s side.

 

“Did you find her?” Curry asked, anxiously, as Heyes helped him to drink the water.

 

Heyes shook his head,  “She’s not here, but they said that people with only minor injuries have been treated and discharged, as they need the space for the more seriously injured.   She didn’t appear to have any obvious injuries when we found you, so she may well have been treated and sent away.”

 

“If the city’s as badly damaged as you say, where would she go?” asked Curry.

 

Heyes shrugged, at a loss for an answer, ”I don’t know, Kid.” he said, wearily.

 

Curry studied him. He had obviously been greatly affected by what he’d witnessed tonight.  Heyes was rarely downhearted, and always had a plan of some sort, to get them out of whatever fix they were in, but at this moment he looked completely at a loss and that made him nervous.

 

“I’m just glad Clem and James got out of town before this happened.” Heyes said now.

 

Curry nodded, “I wonder if his family are O.K?”

 

Heyes shrugged,  “They probably have a good, solid house, so maybe they’ll have come through it relatively unscathed.”

 

“I sure hope so.”

 

Heyes drained the rest of his coffee and got to his feet.

 

“You rest. I’m going to go back out and see if I can help with some of the rescue work.” he told him, but Curry shook his head.

 

“No. You need some rest too,” he said, doubtfully, “and I don’t want to have to worry about you getting hurt trying to rescue someone.”

 

“I can’t just sit here and do nothin’, Kid.” Heyes told him, “This town needs all the help it can get right now.  Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.  I’ll go back to the hotel too, and see if I can find the rest of our stuff and bring it back here.  I’ll see you later.”

 

Forcing a bright smile, Heyes took his leave, Curry watching him anxiously from his cot.

 

The sun was just coming up as Heyes stepped outside, making the devastation look even worse in the cold light of day.

 

In the grounds around the church where, just a few days ago, he and Curry had watched Clem and James get married, people were now setting up a tent community from whatever materials they could find – tarpaulins, sheets, wood, wagons. The church itself had been damaged but was still standing, and congregations were gathering outside to sing and pray for salvation.

 

Heyes went from place to place, helping out where he could, helping to rescue a number of people but also unearthing a number of dead bodies, each one bringing home to him how lucky he and Curry were to have come out of it relatively unscathed.  He was particularly shaken when, after joining a group of men trying to pick through the debris of a partially collapsed house, they had discovered the bodies of the owner’s twin five-year old daughters.  They had been asleep in their upstairs bedroom, which had collapsed, in the earthquake, burying them under the debris. Their mother had been injured and taken to hospital while her husband tried frantically to remove the debris, in the desperate hope of finding his children alive, aided by some passers-by.

 

On discovering their bodies, their father had cradled them in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

 

Heyes had stood, staring at the scene, swallowing down the lump that had risen in his own throat, lamenting the loss that this family, and no doubt many others, had suffered this night, before turning and walking away.

 

As he threaded his way through the streets, he marvelled at some of the buildings he came across that defied gravity to remain standing, with whole sections missing or walls twisted out of shape so badly it seemed impossible for them not to have collapsed. 

 

Eventually he arrived back at their hotel.  Looking at it in the daylight it appeared to have fared better than some of its neighbours.  While the front facing side of the building had sustained damage, the rear half of the structure appeared to be relatively solid although, internally, many repairs would be needed before it would be functional once more.

 

He made his way up to their room and began to search around for their belongings, all of which had been thrown around the room and buried, either under debris or furniture.

 

Righting the upturned dresser he spotted the book he’d bought, which had been buried underneath it. Picking it up, he dusted it off and shoved it in his bag.  Then he collected up their clothes and packed them, before heading downstairs and back to the temporary hospital at the meeting hall, surprised to find that it was almost five o’clock and that he’d been working for twelve hours straight.

 

Curry looked relieved when he saw him approaching.

 

“I was worried you’d got hurt.” he told him, as Heyes attempted to shove his and Curry’s bags underneath the cot.

 

“I’m fine.” said Heyes, as he tried to flatten his carpet bag enough to fit underneath the cot.

 

Curry looked at him doubtfully.  He looked anything but fine.  In fact, he looked dead on his feet.

 

“Go and get something to eat, and a drink.” he told him, nodding to the table where volunteers were still bringing food supplies.

 

“You want anything?” Heyes asked, as he finally got the carpet bag underneath the cot and stood up.

 

Curry shook his head,  “The nurses brought me something earlier.”

 

Heyes crossed the room and returned with a sandwich and a cup of coffee.

 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, eyeing Curry anxiously as he sat down on the floor and began to eat.

 

“Sore, and stiff.”

 

“Not surprising.” said Heyes, as he took a sip of his coffee, “It was lucky you both got under the bed. It was that covering you which saved you.”

 

“I hope Cloris is alright.” Curry said, worriedly.

 

“I’m sure she is.  She didn’t appear to have any obvious injuries.  I think you took the brunt of it, being on top of her.” Heyes told him.

 

Curry nodded, thoughtfully, before saying,  “You look like hell.”

 

Heyes looked at his grubby hands and clothes and nodded, “I guess.” he acknowledged,  “Not anywhere to get cleaned up.”

 

Curry hadn’t been referring to the state of his clothes, rather to the fatigue in his face, from the day’s labours, and the grief in his eyes at what he’d witnessed, but all he said was, “If you ask one of the nurses I’m sure they can find somewhere for you to wash up.”

 

“Yeah, I think I will.” said Heyes, draining the last of his coffee. Pulling his carpet bag back out from under the cot, he pulled out a clean shirt, his spare pants and his razor, and headed off to find one of the nurses, returning some time later looking a little more like his usual self after being given a bowl of water to wash and shave, and having changed his clothes and cleaned off his hat and coat as best he could.

 

Curry had fallen asleep and so, after packing away his soiled shirt and pants, Heyes made a pillow of his coat and settled down on the floor by his side, and was soon dead to the world.

 

It was the middle of the night when he woke.  Another after-shock was rumbling the ground but that wasn’t the only thing had woken him.  As he glanced across at Curry, he was rolling his head from side to side, moaning in his sleep, and this was what had roused him.

 

Sitting up, he placed a hand on Curry’s forehead, not surprised to feet him burning up.

 

“Damn!” he muttered under his breath, his stomach sinking.  An infection, from the injury he’d sustained, had always been a possibility but Heyes had hoped, and prayed, that Curry would be lucky and not get one.

 

He called to one of the nurses, who went in search of a doctor.