“I can't move at all,” the voice answered, “there's something on my legs and my arms … and I can't reach my baby.”

“They're going to send us help, you know.” And as Maddy said it, they were both aware of the sound of muffled voices in the distance, but there was no way to know if they were rescuers or victims. And then, as Maddy tried to think of what to do, she remembered that her cell phone was in her handbag. If she could find it, she could call for help, or maybe they would find her more easily. It was a crazy idea, but it gave her something to do, as she groped the area immediately around her and found nothing except dirt and rocks and jagged pieces of broken concrete. But she had a better sense of the small area surrounding her, as she did it. And she tried again to move the walls of her makeshift cell, and at one end, she was able to move some boards about a foot from her and enlarge her airspace. “I'm trying to get to you,” she told the girl encouragingly, and for a long moment, there was silence, and it scared her. “Are you okay? … Can you hear me?” There was a long pause, and then the voice again.

“I think I was sleeping.”

“Don't sleep. Try to stay awake,” Maddy said firmly, still trying to think, but nothing would come. She was still in shock herself, and she was aware, as she moved, of a blinding headache. “Talk to me … what's your name?”

“Anne.”

“Hi, Anne. My name is Maddy. How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“I'm thirty-four. I'm a reporter … on TV….” But there was no answer again. “Wake up, Anne … how's Andy doing?”

“I don't know.” He was whimpering so Maddy knew he was alive, but the girl sounded weaker. God only knew how badly injured she was, or when anyone would find them.

And as Maddy continued to struggle within her cave, outside fire trucks continued to arrive from every district. Two of the stores were in flames, four had collapsed, and dismembered bodies were being removed from the areas closest to the center of the explosion, some of them far beyond recognition. There were hands and feet and arms and heads everywhere. Everyone ambulatory was being removed, and ambulances were taking away those who couldn't move under their own steam. They were trying to clear the area for rescue workers and volunteers. The Center for Disaster Control and National Emergencies had been called and they were organizing teams as bulldozers began to arrive. But the balance of the remaining structures was too delicate to use them, and there were too many victims to jeopardize by using machinery that might ultimately create a bigger problem.

There were scores of news crews on the scene, and broadcasts all over the country had been interrupted to bring viewers the news that the biggest disaster in the nation's history, since the bombing in Oklahoma City in '95, had occurred in Washington. There were already over a hundred known casualties and no way to assess how many more there would be, and a screaming child with her arm blown off had already been filmed by every camera crew on the scene as she was rushed away by rescue workers. Her identity was unknown and no one had claimed her yet. But there were dozens of others like her. Hurt, dazed, injured, maimed, dead, and dying, being brought out of the wreckage.

Bill had been watching television peacefully in his den, when the first bulletin flashed across the screen, and he sat up with a look of horror. Maddy had told him she was going there after work, and he instantly ran to the phone and called her. There was no answer. He called her cell phone next and a recording told him the subscriber he had called was out of range, and as he continued to watch the news, he felt a wave of rising panic. He almost called the network to find out if they knew where she was, but he didn't dare. There was always the possibility that she was on the scene, covering it herself, but he decided to wait to see if she called him. He knew she would if she had time, and if she wasn't trapped somewhere beneath the rubble. All he could do now was pray she wasn't. And all he could think of was the moment when he had first realized that Margaret had been kidnapped by masked men carrying machine guns.

Jack was aware of the situation too. His cell phone rang within instants of the blast, and he looked at the woman he was with, with dismay. This was not the evening he had planned. He had set it up so carefully, as he always did, and he was irritated by the interruption.

“Find Maddy and tell her to get her ass over there. She should be home by now,” he directed, and then hung up. They already had two crews on the scene, and a third one was on its way, the producer had said. And the pretty blonde he was with at the Ritz Carlton asked him what had happened.

“Some asshole blew up a shopping mall,” he said, and flipped on the TV. And they both sat and stared at what they saw. It was a scene of total destruction and utter chaos. “Jesus,” he whistled through his teeth. Neither of them had realized the magnitude of the disaster until they saw it. They sat there silently for a while, and then he picked up his cell phone and called the network. “Did you find her?” he barked into the phone. It was a hell of a story, but even to a practiced eye like his, there were moments of what they were shooting that brought tears to his eyes. And next to him the girl he had only met the week before was crying softly. A fireman had just carried away a dead baby and its mother.

“We're trying, Jack,” the frazzled producer said. “She's not home yet, and her cell phone is off.”

“Goddammit, I told her never to do that. Keep trying. She'll turn up.” And then as he snapped his phone shut, a strange thought wandered across his mind, but he rejected it instantly. She had said she was going to buy wrapping paper and some things, but she usually hated malls and shopped in Georgetown. There was no reason on earth why she would be there.

“Can you hear me, Anne?” Maddy's voice penetrated through the concrete again, but it took her longer to rouse the other voice this time.

“Yes … I can …” and as she answered, they heard another voice. A man's this time, and he sounded surprisingly close to Maddy

“Who is that?” the voice asked. He sounded strong and loud, and he said he had dislodged some rocks and a beam and crawled a long way to get to them, but he had no idea which way he was going, or where he was.

“My name is Maddy,” she answered firmly, “and there's a girl here called Anne … she's not with me, but I can hear her. I think she's hurt and she has a baby.”

“How about you? Are you okay?” She had a headache, but it wasn't worth reporting to him.

“I'm fine. Can you move any of this stuff around me?”

“Keep talking, and I'll try.” She hoped he was big and strong. Strong enough to move mountains if he had to.

“What's your name?”

“Mike. And don't worry, lady. I bench-press five hundred pounds. I'll get you out of there in no time.” But she could hear him struggling as he continued to talk to her, and Anne dropped out of the conversation again, as Maddy called out to her, but the baby was crying louder than ever.

“Talk to your baby, Anne. If he hears you, he might not be so scared.”

“I'm too tired,” Anne said weakly, as Maddy continued to talk to Mike, and he sounded a few inches closer.

“Do you know what happened?” Maddy asked him.

“Damned if I know. I was buying shaving cream and the goddamn roof fell on top of me. I was going to bring my kids. I'm glad I didn't. Was anyone with you?”

“No, I was alone,” Maddy answered, while she tried clawing at the rocks and dirt again, but all she did was break her nails and hurt her fingers. Nothing was moving.

“I'm going to try and dig in the other direction,” he finally said, as Maddy felt a wave of panic wash over her. The thought of the friendly voice leaving her aroused a sense of abandonment in her like no other she had ever known. But they had to get help, and if one of them could get to it, the others would be saved too.

“Okay,” she said. “Good luck. When you get out,” she made a point of saying “when” and not “if,” “I'm a reporter, tell my network I'm here. I have a feeling they're out there somewhere.”

“I'll come back for you,” he said clearly. And a few minutes later, his voice disappeared again, and no others came. She was left alone in the darkness with her solitude, Anne, and her crying baby. And she kept wishing for her cell phone, not that it would have made much difference. She couldn't even have told them where they were, only where they had started. But for all she knew, they had been thrown a long way. There was nothing to identify where they were trapped now.

And as Bill continued to watch the news, he felt a rising sense of panic. He had called her a dozen times, and only got her answering machine. And her cell phone was still off. Finally in desperation, he called the network.

“Who is this?” the producer asked irritably, surprised the caller had even gotten through.

“I'm a friend of hers, and I was just concerned. Is she covering the story?”

There was a pause and then the producer decided to answer him honestly. “We can't find her either. Her cell phone's off, and she's not home. She could have gone to the scene independently, but no one's seen her. But there are a hell of a lot of people there. She'll turn up eventually. She always does,” Rafe Thompson, the producer, reassured him.

“It's not like her to disappear,” Bill pointed out to the producer in a worried tone, and Rafe couldn't help wondering how the man on the phone knew that, but he was obviously worried. A lot more than Jack was. All Jack had done was yell at them to goddamn fucking find her. And the producer had a fairly good idea of what Jack had been doing when he found him. A giggling female voice had been laughing in the background when Jack answered the first time.