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KIM BALDWIN. from the Jeep and went the rest of the way to the house on foot
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from the Jeep and went the rest of the way to the house on foot.
A portion of one wall still stood—the area around the F eldstone F replace. A massive section of the roof was propped against it, forming a nine-foot-high lean-to. An intact bookcase rested beneath it, empty of all its books. Everything else around her was debris—insulation, lumber, electrical wiring, shingles, bits of furniture—all precariously jumbled together in towering heaps. It was impossible to negotiate through it. Jagged pieces of glass and metal were everywhere, the footing uncertain. Here and there lay various clues about the homeowner. Sheet music. A computer keyboard.
“Hello? Anybody here?” Gable listened for a response, but could hear nothing but the howl of the wind and the drumming of the rain.
Picking her way around the perimeter, she tried again on the other side of the house. “Hello?”
She thought she might have heard something human. Or maybe it was the wind playing with her imagination.
“Hello!” she yelled as loud as she could.
This time it was unmistakable. Through the pounding rain, she heard a muff ed female voice. “Down here! In the basement!”
“I hear you!” Gable shouted. “I’m with search and rescue. Keep talking. How many of you are there? Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m not hurt. And it’s just me, but I’m trapped. Get me out of here!” The voice had a panicky sound.
“Hang on. I’m coming. How do I get to you?”
“There’s a storm door right outside the house in back.”
Gable stared around. She was already behind the house. Finding the door beneath the mountain of rubble in front of her would be a daunting task. “I’m calling for more help. Sit tight and try to relax.”
“Hurry! Please hurry!”
Gable reached for her radio and turned it up. The bedlam of voices was even worse than before. While waiting for a break in the radio trafF c, she pulled her work gloves from her back pocket and started picking through the debris, searching for the door. “How are you doing?” she shouted. “Can you move around?”
“I’m in the basement shower! Part of the ceiling came down. I can move around but I can’t get out of here.”
As soon as there was a lull in the cacophony on the radio, Gable reported in and requested assistance, but was told that all available
• 18 •
FORCE OF NATURE
resources were tied up on other calls at the moment.
Knowing she was on her own, she resumed her search with a heightened sense of urgency. The debris of the house didn’t appear to be shifting, so the trapped woman was probably not in any immediate danger. But it was going to be dark very soon.
“I’m Gable McCoy, a volunteer F reF ghter,” she hollered. “What’s your name?”
“Erin. Erin Richards,” came the muted reply. “Have you seen my cat? He’s charcoal with a white mustache.”
The devastation was so complete, Gable had trouble imagining anything as small and defenseless as a cat living through it. “No, I’m sorry, Erin,” she shouted. “I don’t see a cat.”
“Maybe he’ll come out if you call his name,” Erin begged. “It’s Earl Grey. Maybe he’s hurt or scared, and just hiding.”
Gable wanted to get the woman out of there. It went against her better judgment to spend time worrying over a cat, but something about Erin’s plea touched her deeply. So she hollered Earl’s name and kept an eye out for him as she dug through the wreckage, searching for the entrance to the basement. She came across a snowshoe. A green and white Michigan State University baseball cap. A diving mask and snorkel. Lots of mementos of Erin Richards’s life, but no door.
“Erin, we need to concentrate on getting you out, then we can both look for your cat, okay?”
“All right. I understand.”
“It will help me if you can direct me to exactly where the door is,”
Gable shouted. “It’s covered up.”
“It’s outside the bathroom window.”
Gable frowned. “That doesn’t help. Erin, I’m afraid your house is pretty much gone. It took a direct hit. There are no windows and no bathroom left.”
There was a lengthy silence.
“Erin? You still with me?”
“The house is gone? Everything’s gone?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. Try not to think about that now. Help me F nd you.”
“Isn’t there anything at all I can save?”
Gable looked around. “Maybe. It’s hard to tell—everything is all piled up. Erin, you can’t worry about that now. You gotta concentrate
• 19 •
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