Homecoming by Belva Plain Read Free Book Online

rain soon, he had thought, probably all day tomorrow, too, and was glad for her sake that Daisy had not been able to come along this time. She had been at so many engineers’ meetings, anyway. As for him, this one was rather special, since most of the members were having their first look at Byrne and Sons’ achievement. He moved to go inside to the music, the champagne, and, frankly, to the congratulations.
    A thunderous clap shook the air. Like lightning as it splits and fells a tree, striking unholy terror in animal or man, it crashed again. And instinctively, Lewis ran for shelter. Then in an awesome fraction of a second as he reached the door, he saw, not shelter, but chaos—and it was inside.
    It struck his heart. He thought he was having a stroke. He thought he was dying.
    Chaos was concrete boulders, contorted steel, and shattered glass, lying at the bottom of the five-storied atrium. The balconies had fallen. Even now, the last one on the second floor, struck by the one above, was giving way, and shrieking, flailing, tumbling human bodies were falling with it.
    Now he knew he was dying, and wanted to die.
    There was, among all who saw this, one long, audible intake of breath; then universal screams, sobs, and curses, and after that an instant, violent, impulsive rush to aid. Lewis pulled a girl from under a girder; she had lost an arm. A man lay with blood pouring from his mouth; his eyes were open, and he was dead. Human beings, their heads barely visible beneath the rubble, cried and pleaded in terror, while groups in twos and threesstrained to move the debris that covered them. Lewis thought of his brother, but there was no time or way to look for him. There was scarcely any space in which to walk through the mass of ruins.
    Water came gushing from broken pipes onto the slippery floor. An enormous chunk of concrete too heavy for human arms to shove lay over a pair of legs, and yet he tried; the man was screaming in his agony and begging; then suddenly his cries ceased, and Lewis walked away to steady an old woman who, though bloody, was able to stand. A child’s face was torn; he had fallen onto the sharp end of something, most likely onto a piece of the delicate iron filigree that had adorned the balconies. A gush of vomit came from out of Lewis’s mouth.
    On one side of the lobby little tables were still set with cutlery, flowers, and pink cloths. On the other, in the cocktail lounge, the piano stood unscathed. Beyond it you could glimpse the Blue Room, where on sofas and carpet those victims who could be extricated from the destruction were already being laid.
    Chambermaids, chefs in white, and men in maroonuniforms came running in from all over the hotel. Someone said, “Come here, grab her legs,” and Lewis obeyed as they picked up a heavy woman who had fainted. People ran in from the street. It must be raining, he thought, for their clothes were streaming. Dazed, he moved from aid to aid, from place to place, through the turmoil of dust and splintered glass. In one vague moment he thought he was seeing the carnage of a battlefield, read of in countless books and watched through countless movies. Only here in this place there had been music a few minutes ago, and women in evening gowns.…
    The wail of an ambulance broke into his daze. Police, firemen, and paramedics began to take charge. More help came. In the mirrored ballroom a temporary morgue was set up for the many dead. There was a frenzy of newsmen carrying cameras.
    How many hours all this went on, Lewis was never able to recall. It seemed as if days must have passed until, pushed to the limit of shock and exhaustion, he went up to the suite that had been reserved for himself and Gene.
    The lobby had been cleared of the dead andinjured. They had done all that they were able to do that day. What remained was the work of the hospitals. What he did recall perfectly, though, was the terrible quarrel with Gene.
    Gene had opened a bottle of brandy.