“Over here,” Guang Xi yelled.
The goat herder turned and looked at Guang Xi with a shocked expression on his face. He paused and stepped back, uncertain of what he should do.
“Get me out of here,” Guang Xi screamed.
The man slowly approached. “How long have you been stuck here?” he asked.
“Since it happened,” Guang Xi answered.
The goat herder knelt down and brushed some of the dirt from around Guang Xi, stopping when he encountered a large rock. “This rock is on top of you?”
“Yes, of course it is,” Guang Xi answered. “My right foot is pinned underneath it.”
The goat herder stood up, considering what to do. “I am going to need help, and tools.” He gave Guang Xi a container of water to drink and some dried meat from his pouch. “I will return,” He said, as he turned and left.
Guang Xi quickly drank the water and devoured the dried meat. Strength and hope rose once more within him. I’m getting out of here! Three hours later the goat herder reappeared with two other men Guang Xi recognized as the ones who had helped dig the holes for his instruments. They used wooden shovels to remove the dirt from around the side of the large rock.
Guang Xi felt the large rock shift as the men completed digging the other side free of dirt. The three of them put their tools down and braced themselves against the large rock. As they heaved together the large rock rolled and Guang Xi’s pinned foot came free. He was lifted from the hole and laid on a stretcher. The journey back to the small village was rough with each bounce and shift generating stabbing pains in his right foot and shin. The men carrying him kept watching his face as they appeared more and more concerned.
It was mid-afternoon as they entered the village. “What is that smell?” Guang Xi demanded. The men carrying him nodded over to the left. Twenty people used wooden hoes and wooden shovels to dig a mass grave for the people who had died in the earthquake. The odor of decomposing flesh permeated the air. More than a hundred of the dead were lined up in rows on the ground as Guang Xi was carried past them and into what remained of the village. Not a single building remained standing.
Guang Xi spent the night in a make-shift shelter. He worried about Meili. She knows I’m out here. She must have heard about the earthquake. She may think I’m dead. He wondered how long it would take to get back to Beijing and let her know he was okay.
As the early light of dawn arrived, Guang Xi was placed on a litter as were the other injured people from the village. Men and women took turns dragging the litters along the side of the train tracks. They headed single file to the southeast toward the first city on their way to Chengdu, the provincial capital, more than 60 miles away.
The train track they were following had hundreds of broken sections. At one place the ground had lifted over four feet, leaving bent pieces of train track hanging in the air. Later that afternoon, they climbed over a landslide that covered the train track to a depth of over fifty feet and extended for half a mile. That evening they shared what little food they had left and drank sparingly of the small amount of water they carried. The night was cold and exhausting without shelter. At first light they began their trek again, slowly working their way to the nearest city and the hope of food and water. That evening they reached Yingxiu.
All throughout their travels to Yingxiu, Guang Xi couldn’t shake the memory of the curtain of light over the fault. What caused the light? It was so intense, so burning. He searched his memory for any reference to lights around earthquakes. Once in a great while there was a mention of light in the area close to an earthquake, but only at night. Nothing in the daylight. What caused the light?
Arriving in darkness, it was difficult to see how much damage the city had sustained, but the large amount of scattered bricks and cement blocks spewed over the streets was not encouraging. Guang Xi and the villagers were welcomed into the community and immediately provided with food and water. What little shelter there was was reserved for the injured, and there Guang Xi and the other villagers on litters were housed.
In the light of oil lanterns a doctor squatted down and examined Guang Xi. The doctor was short, medium build, almost bald with thick-rimmed glasses. His white lab coat was soiled and wrinkled. He removed the wrappings from Guang Xi’s hands and feet and examined them in detail. He used a pair of scissors to cut Guang Xi’s right pant leg from the bottom cuff to mid-thigh. Spreading the cloth wide the doctor poked and examined the extent of damage. Guang Xi looked down at his leg. The entire foot had turned black and was badly twisted. The black extended three inches above his ankle, gradually becoming dark red, and finally bright red around the knee. Guang Xi fell back, his mind racing and his breath quickening.
“How bad?” Guang Xi asked the doctor who studied Guang Xi’s face and hands, ignoring the question.
“Where did you get these burns?” the doctor asked.
“The light over the fault line,” he replied.
“What light?” the doctor asked. “It was an earthquake. You’re the only one I’ve seen with burns like this. Where did you get these burns?”
“My leg,” Guang Xi said. “Antibiotics.”
“We don’t have any,” the doctor replied. “We ran out of supplies two days ago. Where were you?”
“I was at the fault line,” Guang Xi replied. “I’ve been working there for the last two months. Contact Dr. Huang, Peking University in Beijing. I work for him. Am I going to lose my foot?”
The doctor stood and walked out of the shelter.
Guang Xi woke to the rhythmic thumping of helicopter blades. People ran toward the sound excited at the first arrival of outside help. Several minutes later the doctor walked into the shelter with a tall, thin man in an army uniform.
“This is the patient I told you about.”
The man in the army uniform was an officer and a doctor, based on what Guang Xi could see of the insignia and bars. The officer looked him over quickly and then focused on Guang Xi’s right ear and face. The officer pulled at the skin and closely examined a piece that broke off in his hand. Guang Xi didn’t feel any pain but was horrified at the darkened piece of his ear in the officer’s hand.
“Where were you?” the officer asked.
“The fault line,” Guang Xi said.
“During or after the earthquake?”
“Before and during,” Guang Xi replied.
“Before?”
“Yes.”
“And you work for Dr. Huang?”
“Yes. I’m his top graduate student.”
“He’s coming with us,” the officer said.
CHAPTER 5
U.S. Navy Captain Paul Jacobs wore his civilian attire, a tailored light gray suit with a light blue tie. He was five-foot ten, a lean 175 pounds with short dark hair and a hint of gray around the temples. His facial features were firm and moderately muscular with gentle blue eyes and a quick smile. At 44 years old, he considered himself to be in the prime of his life.
His girlfriend of four years, Lynn Waggoner, opened the door to her apartment and motioned for him to enter. She was five-six, slim, with red hair and green eyes and a complexion that tended to freckle in the summer sun. She was a legal assistant in a large law firm in Seattle, but lived on the western side of Puget Sound, choosing to take the ferry back and forth to work rather than stand the expense of living in the city.