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CHAPTER NINE

“ O h, my God!” Jenn exclaimed when they arrived at Anjama.

The village had been transformed into a hellscape of shattered homes and broken lives.

People, young and old, were scattered throughout the area.

Some lay on the ground, writhing in pain, while others tried to comfort them.

At least two didn’t move at all, and Jenn feared they were dead.

Towering trees blocked pathways where they'd fallen, their roots torn from the earth, while numerous buildings had pancaked into piles of debris.

Two large boulders, that must have rolled down from the hill above, sat off to the side of the main dirt roadway.

One landed partially on top of a hut, and she hoped no one was inside when it hit.

Men frantically dug in the piles of rubble, pausing only to call out in Spanish if anyone could hear them underneath the wreckage.

The village was similar to the commune, with a combination of large buildings and smaller huts or cabins.

However, instead of being built on acres of flat land, they sat on multiple natural outcroppings protruding from the hillside, with well-worn paths zigzagging to connect those above and below the main road, if you could call it that.

Some structures were constructed with wood and metal sheets, while others were made of concrete.

Livestock—sheep, goats, cows, and chickens—and several dogs roamed free.

Everyone piled out of the four-truck caravan, including the one Luis had driven to get help, and Rich started issuing orders.

He knew this area better than any of them and was a natural leader.

Doug, Lindsey, Roland, and Romeo immediately began triaging the wounded.

At the same time, Tony, Adam, and the other guards grabbed the chainsaws, ropes, and shovels and joined forces with the men searching for victims. Rich pointed toward a nearby building with a wooden cross above the front entrance.

“Jenn, Margie, I’m going to check out the chapel.

If it’s stable, we’ll move the wounded in there for treatment.

Start unpacking the medical supplies. I’ll be right back. ”

They got to work, and a few minutes later, Rich returned. “It’s safe. I pushed some benches out of the way. I’ll help the others with the victims who can be moved in there.”

“Got it,” Jenn replied as she picked up two boxes and carried them into the chapel.

She spent the next two hours contributing however she could—organizing the provisions on the chapel’s altar and several benches, bringing victims inside, getting them settled, treating minor injuries, and grabbing supplies for whoever needed them.

She kept an eye on a group of young children who were more scared than anything, but she couldn’t do much to comfort them because the wounded were everyone’s priority.

The impromptu medical staff did their best, but outside, a row of bodies slowly grew.

They were beyond help, lined up on tarps with their faces covered by clothes.

Several relatives stood or knelt near their loved ones, wailing in grief.

So far, fourteen hadn’t survived, including a teenage mother and her three-week-old infant.

Jenn tried not to think about them or look at the corpses, but it was difficult not to do so.

Somehow, she managed to hold herself together.

There would be time later to mourn the dead and deal with the horrific experience.

She wasn’t naive enough to think she wouldn’t escape the natural disaster unscathed.

While she wasn’t physically injured, mentally and emotionally, she would suffer, as would the others working beside her.

No one had taken a break—they were too busy—but when the urge to urinate became unbearable, she grabbed Margie.

“I need to pee really, really bad, and you need to stand guard so I can go behind a tree.” The village probably didn’t have much in the way of plumbing before the quake, and she didn’t want to look for an outhouse or whatever might be available. A tree would do just fine.

“I was just thinking the same thing—I have to go too. I’ll guard you, and then you guard me.”

Exiting the chapel, they glanced to the left and right.

The building was one of the first when you entered the village from the direction they’d come.

They turned left, walked a dozen yards or so past the commune’s haphazardly parked vehicles, and found an area that would provide enough cover to tend to their personal business.

While the other woman ensured her privacy, Jenn squatted behind a tree first, sighing as the pressure in her bladder was relieved. She then switched places with Margie.

While waiting, her gaze went to the makeshift morgue again, and a shiver went down her spine.

It was times like that when she realized she often took things for granted.

Yes, she’d lost her parents to the hands of a brutal murderer, something that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

But she had her extended family who loved her to pieces, and she loved them in return.

She had an apartment with electricity, plumbing, cable, and internet, a soft, warm bed, a full refrigerator and pantry, a new car she had bought the previous year, clothes that weren’t in tatters, a good job, and wonderful friends.

These people had so little, and thanks to the earthquake, they now had even less.

Not only were lives lost, but many of the survivors’ homes and livelihoods were gone too.

As they headed back toward the chapel, Doug stepped outside, stretching his arms over his head and cocking his head from side to side, probably working out some kinks.

Jenn’s breath caught when his T-shirt lifted just enough for her to catch a glimpse of his washboard abs.

Beside her, Margie sighed. “Oh, if only I were twenty or thirty years younger again. That man is a hottie.”

It took a moment for the older woman’s comment to register, and when it did, Jenn stopped short and gaped at her. “What?”

Margie grinned. “Oh, honey. My husband is dead—I’m not.

I can still look. Besides, it wouldn’t make a difference if I were younger.

That man over there hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you for more than a few seconds at a time, even though he’s working his ass off as much as everyone else.

You know, he kind of reminds me of George.

My husband was a police officer and carried himself the same way Doug and Romeo do.

Lindsey too. They exude confidence and total awareness of their surroundings.

It comes from their training and is hard to miss when you know what to look for. ”

Glancing over at Doug, Jenn found him staring at her, his gaze roaming her body as if making sure she was still unharmed. She reluctantly got her feet moving again when Margie walked toward him.

“Everything okay?” he asked as they approached.

“Yup,” Margie responded. “Us girls just needed a quick bathroom break behind a tree.”

Jenn’s cheeks flamed. She didn’t need Doug to know she’d been bare-assed a few moments ago, peeing in the woods.

“ ?Socorro! ?Socorro! ”

They turned to see a man, in his mid to late twenties, running toward them from the other side of the village.

He frantically waved at them, spoke in rapid Spanish, and pointed in the direction he’d come from.

Doug looked at Jenn and Margie. “My Spanish isn’t that good. I understood ‘help’ and ‘hurry.’”

“His wife’s in labor,” Jenn translated. “He needs us to go to her.”

“Damn it. Let me grab one of the emergency bags.”

While the two women rushed toward the pleading man, Doug ducked inside the chapel and then caught up with them, carrying an oversized canvas knapsack and a handheld radio.

He stuck the latter into the side thigh pocket of his cargo pants, then pulled the bag’s straps over his shoulders.

They followed the man down the main dirt road, past several buildings.

Jenn spotted Tony and the others digging through the rubble of what had once been a large structure.

They kept going as the man repeatedly glanced over his shoulder, as if making sure they were still with him.

They were almost to the other side of the village when Doug stopped suddenly and grabbed one of Margie’s and Jenn’s arms, bringing both to a halt.

Confused, they stared at him as he released them and spun around slowly, his gaze darting around.

“What’s wrong?” Jenn asked.

“The animals.”

She didn’t understand at first, but then realized the livestock and dogs were making a loud racket, nervously shifting back and forth on their feet.

They started to run in different directions, with some barreling past the trio, who barely jumped out of the way in time.

A low rumble reached her ears and grew louder.

Powerful, ear-splitting cracks, like thunder, followed.

“Shit!” Doug grabbed her arm again. “Run!”