“Might as well get another cat for all the good those little shit dogs do. Maybe when Maggie’s older.”
Andy had always been jealous of his classmates with pets, how they distracted themselves attending to something small and endlessly joyful. But since he was fourteen, Andy had his father to take care of.
Emiko calls to Momo: one short word, and Momo nearly knocks Les down as she bounds to rejoin Kami.
The Indian Army has begun recovery operations. Bodies wrapped in white sheets pave the road. Andy wonders how many of these people had been just beyond his reach, unable to hear him call out, “Hello? Please respond if you can hear my voice,” unconscious, waking long after he’d left, alone in the dark, fear hanging in the air like a noose.
Andy never mentions these thoughts to anyone, including Les, because he’d be told to talk to Colin, who would tell him to see the brigade medical officer, and so on, until he was back to Dr. Cameron writing notes that said Not fit for duty and Mentally unable to cope with stress.
“Do you want to talk about your father?” Dr. Cameron asks.
“No,” replies Andy, “I do not.”
Andy brings his fists to his temples. He squeezes his eyes tight, hears nothing but the truck crushing rocks beneath its tires into powder.
“You OK?” asks Les.
“Headache,” Andy says.
“I’ve got a paracetamol. I think it’s still in one piece.” Les reaches for a water bottle.
“No need,” says Andy.
“You’re going to swallow it dry?”
Andy nods.
“Your funeral,” Les says. The pill dissolves on Andy’s tongue before scraping its way down his throat. Andy swallows again and again. Les turns his attention back to Momo.
“Andy,” Les says.
“Yeah.”
“Andy.”
“What.”
“I want to tell you something,” Les says. “Keep this under your cap for now.”
If anyone can keep a secret, it’s him.
“Janice is pregnant,” Les says.
Andy thinks he should give his congratulations but hesitates.
“I haven’t run this by her yet but — I’d like you to be the godfather.”
Andy can’t imagine that responsibility. He remembers practicing on the infant CPR mannequin. He blew too hard into its mouth, and the diagnostic system trilled as if he’d exploded the baby’s lungs, and after thirty compressions, Colin, loud enough for everyone to hear, said, “McGreevey, leave the baby some intact ribs.”
“Boy or girl?” he asks.
“Girl,” Les says. “A sister for Maggie.”
“Have you named her yet?”
“We’re still debating,” Les says. “Have any suggestions?”
Andy thinks for a moment. “Victoria.”
“Victoria,” Les says. “Victoria, Victoria.” He says it like he’s trying on a new pair of shoes. “Not half bad. How’d you come up with that?”
“She was my favorite Spice Girl.”
“Victoria,” Les says again. “Anything but Victoria, then.”
The cranes and lifts seem so unwieldy. They have no finesse, all pulleys and claws, knobs and levers. The engines whir with the screech of poorly oiled metal. But as long as the machines do their business, Andy has nothing to do but wait. His fingernails dig into his palms. They’re on the sixth-day cusp — when people start to die of starvation. It’s one thing to be swallowed whole by the dark, but it’s another to be nibbled away by it. He can’t imagine not eating for six days in a row. The most he’s ever gone is a day, during those trying times right before his mother’s next paycheck or his father’s next suckle off the dole. He remembers sitting at the table, eating cheese sandwiches, and his mother finishing less than half of hers and announcing, too emphatically to be true, that she couldn’t eat another bite, and his father reaching for the uneaten portion. It made him sick, how his father got fatter even when there was no food in the house.
Andy pounds his temples with his fists. His father is stuck in his head like a spike.
Emiko approaches, leading Momo and Kami.
“Problem?” she asks.
“Preparing myself,” he replies.
Emiko gestures toward the dogs. “They brought me here.”
“For what?”
She shrugs. “You tell me.”
“No fooling those noses, eh?” Kami threatens to lick his face. “Are they happy doing this? Getting shipped halfway around the world to sniff around?”
“It’s no good,” Emiko says, “to think of happy or not happy. What they really want to do is chase squirrels.” She wraps the leads around her hand to rein them in, then loosens them. Freedom and restraint. “But they do what they do because it is important. They understand.”
Andy cocks his head. “Do they? Understand, that is?”
She holds Momo’s head in her hand. “What do you think, Momo? Do you understand?” She lets go, and Momo jumps onto him, all tongue and slobber.
An hour later, the cranes stop their work. It’s time to explore. The setting sun turns the ground to lava, a molten road. But inside the wreck, the darkness consumes everything. Andy’s right hand curls into a half claw, sore from clutching his torch. He calls out, “Anyone there? Can you hear us?” with as much strength as his diaphragm can muster. Sometimes, he thinks he hears someone calling back, and his heart seizes for a second before he realizes it’s his own echo. And in that instant between hope and realization, his insides churn. He expects too much. Maybe saving lives is a drug. Maybe he’s experiencing withdrawal.
Mexico City, Andy reminds himself. A fluke. A bona fide miracle. Bhuj is a city of unlucky bastards.
Dr. Cameron tells Andy to concentrate on reaching survivors. Think about the living—yes—but what can he do for those who give up? His father on the A682, just past Barrowford, the one-lane road, the ice in February, the tight corners, a lorry pressing into his lane — the cause didn’t matter, because the result was the same: his dad flipped the car, shattered his legs, and went from selling medical equipment to requiring it. After the accident, it hurt for him to stand for longer than ten minutes. And — his father — just gave up.
He feels like shit for hating his father for something that wasn’t his fault, but he hated the ugly blue Tesco shirt his mum had to wear because she had to go back to work, he hated living at home while doing his recruit course because Mum needed the extra money more than he needed his own flat, and he hated seeing his father deflate on the couch, becoming more globulous each day. The first time Andy came home in his recruit togs, his dad said, “Looking good there,” in the same voice he used to greet the postman. But even if his father was proud, Andy couldn’t reciprocate, and if what Andy had said in return made his father cry, well, that was that.
Momo barks.
“Here,” Emiko shouts. “Over here!”
She stands next to a broken stairwell. Momo scratches at a crack in the ground.
“Are you sure?” Colin asks.
“Very likely,” Emiko says.
“Maybe someone was in the basement when the building collapsed?” Les offers.
“Can we get a probe over here?” Colin says. “Hustle. Move!”
Sam brings the audio monitoring equipment and snakes the microphone, thin as a whip, into the rabbit hole. He unspools the cable and jostles it to see if it will go any farther.
Colin looks at the purpling sky. “We need more light. Flood this area.” Within minutes, army men carry two long pole lights. Colin clears the ground, kicking away pebbles. “Here,” he says, pointing. “And here.”
Sam gives a thumbs-up.
“Les,” Colin says, “the honors?”
“Let Andy do it,” Les replies. “He’s been loafing around all day.”