Cassidy could see the terrified, dirt-covered girl. Poor baby, she thought, and then with horror realized the child was her. Her pulse jackhammered. Somehow it had happened again. The earthquake had come back for her. She struggled, fighting the rubble. Not again. Not again. “Mama! Daddy!” The acrid smell of smoke crept closer. Fire was coming. She couldn’t see it but it was coming. And she couldn’t escape. Something above her shifted. She tried to look up, but all was dark. The building trembled. Cassidy tensed, praying that nothing else struck her. She was thirsty. Her head pounded like the distant hammering. Her legs and back ached, too, from the weight holding her captive beneath the school building—or what was left of it. Where were her friends? Where was her teacher? Where were Mama and Daddy? Why didn’t they come?
