Aftershock

By Patricia Reed

Sixteen year old Andrea (Andi) Martin lives in a very small town in Northern West Virginia. Her father has gone to a medical conference in Texas and her three best friends are spending the weekend with her and her sister Darla. The rain that has been coming down for four days gets worse. Trees are falling in the yard and when a large one hits the house, the housekeeper is killed in her bed. Their neighbors are aware that a 9.5 earthquake has been predicted, for their area, but most people are not taking it seriously. Andi and her friend Rob believe it is going to happen. They have prepared survival packs and are waiting to see what happens. When the quake hits they soon learn that they must go on foot to escape because the roads have been destroyed. This is only the beginning of a journey that will be more than one hundred miles on foot. Not all of them will survive, but they will meet other survivors and discover priceless treasures along the way. Most of all they will have to survive the many aftershocks, awaiting them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483683560

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by Patricia Reed.

ISBN:          Softcover                                 978-1-4836-8355-3

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4836-8356-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 08/21/2013

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Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Words to the following songs were used as part of the text in this novel.

Credits

How Great Thou Art

The words were written by Carl Gustav Boberg 1859-1940 as a Swedish Poem.

The melody is from a Swedish folk song.

Dark Brown is the River or Where Go the Boats? (original title)

Composer: Snyder, Audrey

Thank You:

I would to like to thank the girls who did such a wonderful job of Editing on this book. Charlotte Patton who is a retired RN was the first to review the work. She pointed out the errors she found and made some suggestions that would improve the story-line.

The second review was done by Debbie Johnson who has so many talents it is would be hard to list them here. She not only did a very thorough job of eliminating errors, she also gave me some very helpful ideas for embellishing both the story and the characters.

Introduction

A n earthquake is the sudden release of energy in the earth’s crust. Shaking and displacement of ground can trigger landslides. A mine blast can cause an earthquake. The point of initial eruption is called the focus or the hypocenter. The point at ground level directly above the hypocenter is the epicenter. Damage from a quake will extend as far as 75 to 100 miles from the epicenter. A quake moves at 2 miles per second; 120 miles per minute. The average duration of a quake is from 3 to 5 minutes. Earthquakes are usually followed by Aftershocks which are like the quakes in duration and activity. Neither quakes nor aftershocks give warning to those persons living above their fault lines.

The New Madrid Fault line follows the Mississippi River from Illinois to Arkansas. The New Madrid Seismic Zone is a series of faults beneath the continental crust in a weak spot known as the Reelfoot Rift.

The fault extends 150 miles southwest from Ciaro, Illinois through New Madrid and Caruthersville, Missouri, down thru Blythville, Arkansas to Marked Tree, Arkansas. It dips into Kentucky near Fulton and into Tennessee near Reelfoot Lake, and extends S.E. to Dyersburg, Tennessee. It crosses the Mississippi River in at least three places. Where quakes along the West Coast of the U.S. cause a jolt in the underlying rock, the area surrounding the New Madrid is essentially mud and soil wet from the mighty Mississippi, Missouri, Tennessee and Ohio Rivers which join near the New Madrid Fault line, and liquefaction thus affects a huge area. The shock of earthquake waves can cause water saturated soil to rearrange itself in such a way that it essentially becomes a suspension of solids in the liquids. Heavy structures on such areas can suddenly sink or shift. Buried objects can suddenly shift and low density objects can rise to the surface.

The last great quakes on the New Madrid fault line occurred in the winter of 1811-1812. The 400 residents of New Madrid, Missouri were awakened by violent shaking and a tremendous roar. On Dec. 16, 1811 the first of three earthquakes, magnitude 8.0 plus thousands of aftershocks caused cracks to open in the earth’s surface and the ground to roll in visible waves and large areas to sink or rise. By the end of winter few homes within 250 miles of the river town of New Madrid remained undamaged. The crew of the New Orleans (first steamboat on the Mississippi) reported mooring to an island only to awaken in the morning and find the island had disappeared below the waters of the Mississippi River. Damage was as far away as Charleston, SC and Washington, DC.

The following story is fiction, but the New Madrid fault is real as are the many abandoned mines in the earth under the state of West Virginia. The U.S. Federal Emergency Management Agency filed a report in 2008 warning that a serious earthquake in the New Madrid Seismic zone would result in the highest economic losses due to a natural disaster in the U. S. They further predicted widespread and catastrophic damage across AL, AK, IL. IN, KY. MS. MO, and TN. Other reports include WI, MN, OH, PA, WV, VA, NC, SC, GA, LA, KN, IO, MI. NY, and OK. The list is long because the New Madrid Fault is six times larger than the well publicized San Andreas Fault laying below the state of CA.

West Virginia has a history of earthquakes:

Bluefield—5/31/87

Martinsburg—4/2/09

Moundsville—11/1/35

Anna, Ohio—Felt in Huntington, WV—3/2/37

9/5/44—Ontario. Canada felt in Parkersburg, WV

4/23/59—Quake in VA - felt in WV

8/11/70—Charleston, St. Albans, Gap Mills

10/20/74—Parkersburg, Morgantown

Chapter

1

I t’s two o’clock in the morning and I’m still awake. This seems to be one of those times when I just can’t sleep. No matter how hard I try, or what I try, I am still wide awake. The rest of the house is quiet except for the slight snore coming from my father’s room up the hall. I’ve already counted sheep and tried to keep my eyes closed no matter what happened. Somehow they always pop open again and I’m left counting the hours left before morning comes. Wait a minute, there is a noise in the attic over my head. I am listening very carefully for a reoccurrence of the noise, and hoping it was only my imagination. Anyhow, I am giving up and going back to bed. Maybe I can sleep now. No, wait. I just heard the sound again. It sounds like someone is in the attic. They have a light step and the sound is hard to hear, but it is also hard to forget. I grabbed my ball bat out of the closet and crept across the hall to the attic doorway. I opened the door carefully trying to keep it from making a noise that might awaken the rest of my family.

The attic is dark except for a light blue glow that seems to be coming from the area over my dad’s room. I am moving up the stairs very cautiously, trying not to make any noise. At the top of the steps I stop and listen. A familiar woman’s voice is calling my name. She says, Andi, this talk is already past due, it can’t wait any longer.

I felt dizzy and fell down on my knees to keep from collapsing. The voice was my mother’s and it was a totaling shocking experience. I finally found my voice and I said, Mother, is it you? How can I be talking to you? She answered, I have moved into another plane of existence. Your world considers us as dead, but we are still the same in many ways. For instance, you will always be aware whenever there are spirits in your presence. It is important that you are aware of this connection you have with the dead or it will frighten you whenever they make their presence known. This affinity with the dead has been shared by many of your ancestors. I promise, I will come to you when ever you need me. Your future is going to be very difficult sometimes, please remember you can call on me. I love you in all planes of life and death. The light faded from the room and I sat there on the attic floor. I suddenly was very, very sleepy and I felt my way over to the steps. It was so dark I moved down the stairs one by one, in a sitting position. I don’t know what I was thinking, except that I was questioning my sanity. This was an experience that I might not even share with my best friend Charlotte.

It’s August already and school starts again next week. People say that the older you get the faster time goes by. I believe that’s true. The summer flew like it had wings and now I am facing a new school year with new subjects and new teachers. It must be even harder for older people. They get one or two weeks of vacation and then they go back to the same series of events they experienced before the vacation. No wonder some people get ground down by their lives. I want to pick a career with new challenges and new rewards. I hope there is a career that can provide that kind of satisfaction. I also hope I can find a big exciting city in which to live. Above all the hustle and bustle, I’d like one of those apartments that overlook a big park with a lake and maybe some regal swans swimming in and out among the lily pads. I can picture it in my mind with some cattails thrown in for good measure. Of course, the big city would have lots of clothing shops and fancy restaurants. I could try a different eating place every day, but what fun would it be to go by myself? Would there be kind people and good friends? I don’t know. Maybe you just can’t have it all.

Our town is small, but our people are good and very big hearted. There are times when I get tired of the sameness of our town, but I always love our people. There are less than five-hundred people in Farmville and I know most of them. Just like most small towns, you enter our town on Main Street at the first stop light. Then about a block away you pass our second stop light. Next there is a narrow street that goes up the hill to the right. About half way up the hill on the right again is a big two story red brick building. That is our high school, at least, for now. It is around one hundred years old and a new school is currently being built.

It will be open next year and our class will be seniors in high style. We are even going to have an Olympic sized swimming pool. That means we can have swim teams.

At the top of the hill, behind the school, is a big old three story white frame house. That is where my family has lived for three generations. From my bedroom I can see the U.S. Post Office, the Farmville Bank, Carter’s Hardware Store, and Amy’s Floral Shop. Our shopping area is small, but it has to be because it is all packed together in a small valley between two hills. On both of these hills there are houses. I can get to my friend’s homes, all of them, in less than ten minutes.

More than anything, we are proud to be a coal mining town in the great state of West Virginia and we all stick together, like one big family. Any time there is a problem in a mine anywhere we follow the story like the people who are trapped or hurt in that mine are a part of our immediate family. My own family has been very lucky. My grandfather, Lucian Martin and his father Emil Martin worked in the mines all of their working days, but both died at home of old age. My father, Bruce Martin, was able to go to school and become a doctor. He could have gone somewhere else and made a more lucrative living, but he stayed in our little town and took care of our friends and neighbors, especially our miners and their families.

However, we haven’t been lucky in all aspects. My mother Gillian died of pancreatic cancer three years ago and it seemed like our home died with her. She was always cheerful and she made everyone around her happy. I loved her so much it was hard to believe that the world actually continued to turn around after she was gone. When my friends complained about their mothers I became angry. They did not know how fortunate they were to have their mothers. I tried to make them understand, but after a while I realized it was futile. They would not really understand until it was too late.

My name is Andrea Gayle Martin, but everyone, including my dad, calls me Andi. I know it sounds like a boys’ name, but I don’t care. I am probably the only sixteen year old girl in our school that appears not to care much about boys except as competition. That is a little deceptive because no one really knows how I feel. There are actually two young men I would like to be closer to. One of them is Rob Newman and he is tall, about 6’ 2, with light brown curly hair and green eyes. Rob is new in our town so I haven’t been around him that much, but I think he likes me too. I’m not sure about that yet, but I will enjoy getting to know him. He does have a good sense of humor and I know I like that. Matt Jeffrey, who is my friend Charlotte’s favorite guy, made Rob tell us about his experience with the folks who collect the trash in our area. Rob said, My mom put me in charge of signing up for the trash pickup. I called their office and told them we wanted their service. The lady on the phone told me what we had to do. She said, Go past the high school and turn right on the next street. Then go up the hill and then turn left at the fork in the road. Then she said, Drive about a quarter of a mile until you find a wide spot on the right that will accommodate about five cars. Rob said, I followed the directions until I came to that place and I pulled my car in behind the three cars that were already there. Then I got out of the car and stepped over a low wooden rail that ran along by the passenger side of my car. Then I walked out into the adjacent field and found a flat rock that was about eight inches in diameter. Now I was to pick up the rock. Rob continued, Under this rock was the place where I was to leave a check for the first month of services. I also had to provide our name and address on the check. Then Rob finished his story by saying, I did all of that and the next Wednesday they picked up our trash. Rob swore this was true and refused to change his story. Matt swore that Rob made up the whole thing because it was too ridiculous to be true. I thought Matt was too naïve about the people in our community and I believed Rob’s story down to the last word. I told it to my younger sister Darla Lynn who is only fourteen and she believed it too. Of course, Miss Darla likes all the boys and probably would have believed anything a cute boy said. She and her best friend Judith Emmons spend all of their time on the telephone talking about boys and giggling.

Darla and I are opposites. I am tall, about five feet, eight inches, and Darla is short, about five feet, three inches. I have very ordinary long straight brown hair that hasn’t been cut since my mother died. It is very hard to wash and dry so I think I may get it cut sometime soon. Darla’s hair is a beautiful spun gold color that she wears in short bouncy curls like our mother wore hers. I have dark blue eyes like my dad’s. He says they would probably show up more if I wore makeup. Maybe I’ll try that too, one of these days. Darla’s eyes are brown like my mom’s were, and Darla wears enough makeup for both of us. My dad teases me about being too thin, so I tease Darla about stealing Dolly Parton’s bra and two boxes of tissues. Actually I like myself just the way I am and Darla can call me ‘Bones’ and ‘Skeletor’ all she wants.

I have to mention that there is actually another boy in my life. We took art lessons at the Gallery in Fairmont last summer. We both enjoyed the classes and spent a lot of time talking. His name is Cody Prentiss and he has straight black hair and light blue eyes. He is shy, but he likes to talk about his drawings. They are very good; he has a lot of talent. His dad doesn’t like Cody’s interest in art. He really wants Cody to do something that brings in money. I think Cody’s dad hits him and belittles him. That is totally opposite of my dad. I was sad when the art classes were over. I miss talking to Cody. So many times I could feel his pain and I wanted to reach out to him and hold him and tell him not to give up his dreams. I often wished he could meet my dad and show him his drawings and paintings. My dad would have praised his work and told him to keep growing. My dad encourages anything that Darla and I do. He is only forty-two and very nice looking with his dark wavy hair and dark blue eyes. He is a little over six feet tall and has a killer smile with a sense of humor to match. I’m sure that he is considered quite a catch around the hospital, but if he ever has a date with anyone he is keeping it a secret. Darla likes to tease him because he goes to the gym and works out twice a week. She says he is trying to look buff for some hot sexy nurse at the hospital. He just laughs and admits nothing. Darla lives to tease everyone. Another name she calls me is ‘beanpole’. I just ignore her. She truthfully is pretty cute for fourteen, and she has a perfect little round figure. I keep telling her if she fills out any more, she will get fat. I guess I like to do a little teasing myself.

Molly Harper is our live-in housekeeper. She is not quite five feet tall and she has about fifty percent gray hair. The rest is dark brown to black. She keeps her hair curled and wears a little makeup. She always smells of Avon Perfume and Tic-Tac breath mints. Since Molly lives with us we think of her as part of our family. She is a great cook and always keeps snacks in the kitchen. Chocolate chip cookies are her specialty and they are always in the cookie jar. We try not to burden her with our problems because she gets upset easily. When she is worried she sniffles constantly and her nose stays red. We try to tell her only happy things. Molly has a sitting room and bedroom off the kitchen. She is always easy to find. If we go out we can leave her a note and she does the same for us. Oh yeah, one other thing about Molly is that she drives a cute little VW bug, painted bright yellow. Practically every kid in our high school would love to talk her into selling that VW.

This is not a fancy house, but it is big and comfortable. My mother picked the colors and the furniture. She had very good taste so we enjoy feeling her personality throughout our home. It is an old house and it’s in a small town so the fact that it is all decorated in an old country style is not surprising. There are a lot of maple and cherry woods. There are also a lot of ginghams and stripes as well as ruffles, ribbons and eyelet laces. Our living room, dining room and entry hall are painted medium blue and trimmed in white. The kitchen has white wooden cabinets with blue and white ceramic tiles. There are blue and white curtains in all of those rooms and all the floors are cherry hardwood. Even the bathroom on the first floor is blue and white. There are accents of red in all the rooms. It is very patriotic if you ask me.

My bedroom is in the front of the house, over the dining room. It is painted pink and trimmed in white. I have a four poster cherry bed with an eyelet bedspread. The double windows in the front wall look out over the town below. Darla’s room is across the hall from mine and it is painted a dark blue; almost a navy. Her beds are two twin sized maple ones in a Jenny Lind style. They have white spreads and lots of stuffed animals are sitting on them. She has white ruffled curtains on her windows and they look out onto the back yard. Our yard is crowded with trees. We even have a row of apple trees.

Dad’s room is on the front side of the house and it is painted a nice avocado green. Once again all the woodwork is painted white. Dad’s room is actually over the first floor game room so it is pretty big. There are three more rooms on the second floor. There are two guest rooms and a TV room over the garage. Dad has a private bath and so do Darla and I. There is another bath to be shared by the guest rooms and a half bath off the TV room. It is a very comfortable place to live. Our friends are always glad to spend time with us. Everybody likes it here. Molly and Dad both make people feel welcome. But still it is not the same as it was when my mother was alive. She was so pretty. She was tall and thin like me, but she had blonde curly hair like Darla’s. When she smiled no one could be sad. It seemed like she just lit up the room.

Beside our house is a much smaller white frame house where my father’s parents lived. They moved to Florida last year and we haven’t seen them for about six months. The third house on the top of our hill is Mr. and Mrs. Long’s. They live there with their daughter Charlotte who is one of my best friends. When school starts again in a few days we will be in the eleventh grade. My other two best friends are Billie Grainger and Suzanne Overmeyer; also in our eleventh grade class at Farmville High School.

We have big plans for the first weekend after school starts. My dad has to go to Texas for a medical conference. He is leaving on Friday to fly to Houston, Texas. Two other doctors from the hospital in Fairmont are going with him. They are going to be gone all weekend, but they plan to return on Monday evening. My friends are all going to come over here and stay from Friday after school until Sunday afternoon. Darla is going to stay with her friend Judith Emmons so they can talk about boys and we can use Darla’s room. Of course,