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any hand, that also meant she had been spared.  Carrying a child, with her own Joseph to look after her.

“She saved my life, too,” Bud said quietly.  “She had a little love left to give, at a time when I needed it.”

Now he smiled a little.  “Just like now,” he said.  “Just like always.”

They both fell silent, watching the incoming waves.

Allison ambled up with her load of kindling and dropped it on the fire, before sitting down next to Bud.

At the warmth of the fire, she felt her belly – just barely showing.

“When are you due?” Rosa asked.

“Six-and-a-half months,” Allison said.

Rosa found herself wondering again – an unforgivable question that she would never ask – if Bud was the father.

Instead, she regarded the two of them together.

“So, what are your plans?”

Allison and Bud exchanged glances.

“Well,” Bud began, “we were actually thinking of heading out pretty soon.  Like maybe tomorrow.”  He nodded at the wrecked coastline.  “Not much here to salvage.”

“And go where?”

“North.  Just follow the coast until we see landscape again.  Find a place to try and live.”

Rosa nodded silently.

“You're welcome to join us,” Bud said and he patted Allison's belly.  “We could use a doctor.”

Rosa felt the sting of tears.  How many times had these people saved her life?

“Have you got a name?” she asked.

Bud smiled. “How about 'Rosa', if it's a girl?”

Another sting.  “And if it's a boy?”

This time it was Allison who answered, and as she spoke, her hard face became something almost gentle.

“If it's a boy,” she said, “I'm going to call him 'Lucas'.”

And with that, Rosa had given up the battle with her tears.

She cried for quite a long time.  Bud and Allison had quietly stepped aside until she was done.

Now she sat alone on the beach looking out at the setting sun.

She knew the process well – she had seen it a hundred, a thousand times – and so, formally, professionally, she allowed herself to grieve.

Tomorrow, they would leave it all behind in search of a new life.

But she would allow herself tonight.

Chapter 50

It took the better part of two days for Jonah and Naomi to dig their way out.

The drainage pipe had been completely buried early on.  Trapped there in the dark, it seemed like the violent upheaval would never end.  The air was almost too clouded to breathe, and they had no recourse but to simply cover their faces, shut their eyes and wait.

Jonah had no idea how long it was before the tremors finally ended.  It was even longer before they dared to even move.

The pipe had held, but now they were trapped in pure pitch dark, with the entrance buried underneath tons of rubble.  That left no other option than to follow the pipe to its other end – which had once been the cliff-side above.  Jonah wasn't sure – he hadn't exactly picked his landing strip – but he believed the road above was Highway 101.

It was actually the size of the boulders that made the difference – it had been the bedrock of the cliff itself that had collapsed and huge chunks of rock were braced against each other – it  had, in point of fact, broken the pipe in half, as the cliff and the road above had fallen away.  But larger chunks had also prevented the cracks from being filled in with smaller debris.

Jonah had a box of matches – habitually kept in a plastic bag in his jacket pocket – and with these alone, they had rationed enough light to dig steadily for two days, working their way up until they finally found daylight.

Neither of them had spoken – neither of them had tried to sleep.  Jonah had resigned to dig until he dropped – it seemed ridiculous to die now – he was determined to at least make it to the surface.

He was beginning to think they wouldn't, when he felt the first gust of air breezing in.

It had still taken two more hours to see daylight.

But in the end, the two little mice finally crawled out from between the broken rocks.

Jonah felt the first hint of coastal mist as he pushed his way to the surface.  After a moment, he pulled Naomi up beside him.

Where the highway had once been, there was now broken rubble.

Below, however, the tide was filling in the cracks with a brand-new beach – a brand-new coastline.

Bloodied, caked in dirt and granite, dehydrated and spent, they made their way down the shattered cliff to the sand.

Naomi walked to where the surf broke and sat down on a piece of driftwood.

Jonah sat down next to her, and for several minutes they simply sat there looking out at the Pacific Ocean as it crashed and bashed like it always had – utterly uncaring.

The sun had reached late afternoon and was beginning to set.

They looked up and down the coast and there was destruction as far as they could see.

For a long time, the only sound was the crash of the surf, and the squawk of seagulls.

It was finally Naomi who broke the silence.

“You know,” she said, “you were safe in your cabin.  If you'd just stayed where you were, you could have avoided ALL this.”

Jonah sighed.  “Well,” he agreed, “I never have been very smart.”

Naomi didn't smile.  She glanced up at him briefly, uncharacteristically furtive, not quite willing to meet his eyes.

All of her tears had been cried out.  But her pain was still quite fresh.

“You know why I couldn't stay, right?” she said.  “Why I had to come?”

“Yes.”

Now she turned and looked at him steadily.

“Why did you?”

Jonah honestly considered.

“I guess,” he said finally, “because I was supposed to.”

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