The others took stock of the damage. If it hadn't been for the cracks in the walls, it might have been difficult to distinguish between earthquake damage and the aftereffects of a major party. As the Maharajah's servants swept up the sizeable pile of glass where the sliding doors to the patio had stood, Diver went outside to check on the pool.
She returned a few seconds later. "Well, this sucks. The pool is completely empty."
Wally and a half-dozen others filed outside to see for themselves. The pool technically wasn't empty, because the gas grill had rolled off the upper deck and crashed into the deep end. But it was empty of water. A wide crack had opened along the bottom of the pool, pulling the tiles apart like a long, snaggletoothed grin.
"I think the grill is broken," said Wally.
Another crack echoed up and down the canyon. It sounded louder out here than it had inside.
"Holy shit." As one, they looked at Hardhat, then followed his gaze overhead to the long, cantilevered deck, then to the wall where it adjoined the mansion.
And then, also as one, they stepped all the way back to the railing at the canyon edge.
The immense deck wasn't level any longer. Now it sagged, with the far end tilting down over the canyon. It dropped another inch while they watched. The first and second floors of the mansion were cracking apart. And they didn't line up anymore, either.
Wally added, "I think the house might be broken, too."
"No shit?"
"Maybe we should get everybody out."
"On it," said Blrr. She disappeared.
Hardhat peered over the fence, down into the canyon. "Yep, we're boned. Used to be a couple support columns at the end of the deck." He pointed to a pair of jagged concrete buttresses perched on a narrow outcrop on the otherwise sheer canyon wall, about thirty feet below the end of the deck. "Quake ripped those sonsabitches right off." Wally tried to see where they had landed, but the shadows and the tinder-dry brush in the canyon were too deep. Hardhat continued, now speaking with the professional authority of a fourth-generation construction worker. "Now the fuckin' deck is coming down, and that cantilever's prying the house apart like a cheap hooker's gams."
Wally had no idea what his roommate said. But he got the gist of it: the house was coming down around their ears.
"What kind of moron would build a house that way?" Pop Tart tossed her arms up, clearly exasperated. "This has got to be the stupidest thing in the world to do in an earthquake zone."
"Jesus, don't be so goddamn naïve, sweetheart. These old houses get grandfathered in all the time. Grease a few palms and any shithole can—"
CRACK! This time the deck sagged a full foot in one go. Glass shattered on the second and third floors. A quieter "pop" followed the crack as Pop Tart reappeared briefly on the far side of the canyon. She came back a moment later, after apparently deciding that the building wasn't going to collapse just yet.
A luminous yellow scaffold blinked into existence, extending from the severed buttresses all the way up to the deck. Hardhat grimaced. "I can't do this all day long, but—OH FUCK—"
The scaffolding suddenly dropped, like it had fallen through a trapdoor. The deck sagged again. An assortment of yellow beams and crossbeams of various sizes flickered in the canyon for several seconds before stabilizing again.
"What happened?"
Hardhat gripped the railing, frowning in concentration. "Pool water caused a mudslide. Now the goddamn buttresses are gone, too. Gotta build this motherfucker all the way up from the bottom of the canyon. It's the only solid ground."
Wally peered over the fence again. Sure enough, now the ethereal scaffold extended all the way from the road, sixty or seventy feet down.
Blrr herded the others out of the house. Nobody spoke. They stood on the crowded patio, listened to the wail of sirens echoing across the Hollywood Hills.
Through gritted teeth, Hardhat said, "I'd appreciate it if you cocksuckers did something besides stand around with your thumbs up your asses all day long."
"Maybe Ana could help." Holy Roller shook the unstable structure every time he moved.
"No good," said Earth Witch, leaning on Bubbles for support. "I won't move earth up from the roadbed down below—that would make it impossible for emergency vehicles to get through. If I start moving things inside the canyon, this whole house could end up at the bottom. The pool water has made the foundation unstable."
"Now you're talking my language," said Gardener, pulling a handful of seeds from a canvas pocket on her belt. She flung them over the fence and down into the canyon. A few fluttered away on the breeze, but in seconds the muddy hillside turned vibrant green, as shoots and vines snaked up the canyon like one of those fast-forward nature documentaries. They burrowed into the soil, too, making little sucking and squelching sounds. The smell of fresh vegetation wafted up on an updraft from the canyon.
Wally looked up at the deck again. Pebble-size chunks of concrete rained into the pool, making a patter like hail on a tin roof. In some places he could see the steel cantilevers that now imperiled the house.
Holy cow.
Still looking up, he said, "Um, would getting rid of the deck help?"
Silence. He looked down again. Some people rolled their eyes, others shook their heads. "Yes," said Joe Twitch like he was talking to a five-year-old, "the-the-the deck is our p-p-p-problem."
Cripes. Why did they have to get so sore at a guy just for asking? He knew the deck was the problem.
What's worse than being hated by some of the biggest weirdos you ever met?
He tried again. "If we got rid of the deck, would that make things better or worse?" He forged onward. "Because the deck is connected to the house with steel beams."
More silence.
"So they got iron in them." Wally held up his hands and wiggled his fingers to make his point.
Through clenched teeth, Hardhat said, "Son-of-a-fucking-bitch, yes, get rid of the deck!"
The construction worker's approval galvanized the group into action. It was the work of just a few minutes before they had a plan. Most of the discards went out to the street in front of the house, where they'd be safe if things went wrong. Wally, Hardhat, King Cobalt, Dragon Girl, and Pop Tart stayed behind.
Wally went back inside the creaking house and came out on the deck. King Cobalt took a position under one end of the deck, with Pop Tart at his side. If things went wrong she'd whisk them both away to safety. Hardhat kept his temporary scaffold in place at the other end of the deck. Dragon Girl and Puffy circled over the house.
Wally kneeled at the junction between the deck and the house. Wham! Wham! Wham! Using his ironclad fist like a jackhammer, he perforated the concrete every two feet. The noise echoed through the hills. Soon a fine layer of pulverized concrete coated his skin. When he scooped away the rubble he found three I beams inside the deck. Two ran along the sides and one went straight down the middle.
He took a deep breath. Then, like a blue collar Midas, he touched the central I beam. Steel flashed into oxide under his fingertips. A creeping stain spread out from his handprint, first in little needles of rust, then in an orange wave that coursed through the beam. Chunks of corroded metal flaked away and danced around his hand as the house shuddered. Wally willed the rust deeper until it sundered the beam. Puffs of red dust eddied up around his fingers, sparkling in the sunshine until a gust of Santa Ana wind carried them away.
"That's one," he called.
The outer beams were too far apart for him to sever at once. As he weakened the second beam, the deck let loose a high-pitched groan. Then it tipped sideways with much shaking, cracking, and the screeching of tortured metal.
King Cobalt called out from underneath: "Oof!"
The last remaining beam was so badly stressed that it tore apart even before Wally could push the rust all the way through. The entire deck dropped several feet to where, presumably, King Cobalt held one end overhead. Wally leapt for the second-floor entrance to the house before the masked strongman hurled the deck into the canyon.