Virtue Falls by Christina Dodd Read Free Book Online Page B

his parents joined her.
    “Are you sure there’ll be a tsunami?” Mason asked.
    “There’s a fault out there.” Margaret nodded toward the ocean. “It rattles us occasionally, and we always get some sloshing, a low run of water headed for the cliffs.”
    “This time, it won’t be a low run of water, will it?” Mrs. Turner’s voice trembled.
    “No.” In her mind’s eye, Margaret could see it. “This time, the sea floor cracked and bounded up, creating underwater cliffs, triggering a tsunami. Poseidon’s horses race toward shore…” She stopped herself.
    Her guests stared at her, wide-eyed in horror and confusion.
    She was in storytelling mode, and these people needed reassurance. In a return to her sensible voice, she said, “But here the cliffs drop straight down into very deep water. If the geologists are to be believed, and I hope they are, we won’t see more than an impressive wave crash against the cliffs.”
    “Then why did we come up so high?” Mr. Turner asked.
    “That’s what the geologists think will happen,” Margaret said. “With my guests’ safety at risk, I’ll not take a chance of them being wrong.”
    “Look.” Fear forgotten, Josue joined them. “Look!”
    A long, giant swell raced across the blue ocean, lifting the sparkling water north and south as far as the eye could see.
    “It’s a big one.” Margaret crossed herself. “God help us all.”

 
    CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    Paperwork was the bane of Dennis Foster’s existence, and in the twenty-one years he’d been sheriff, the load had doubled. Worse, most of this crap had nothing to do with law enforcement. He had environmental reports. Racial integration reports. Reports to the state police, the county commissioners, every little town council in his jurisdiction, every self-righteous state senator who wanted to stick his or her nose into local law enforcement. Computers were supposed to lighten the sheriff’s workload; instead the Internet made it possible for everyone and his dog to lean on him for information. He wished the whole damned world would mind its own business.
    He wished he could mind his own business, and ignore that mess in San Francisco. But the details preyed on his mind, kept him awake at night, chewing at the edges of his consciousness, forcing him to make choices he didn’t want to make.
    When the computer screen rocked backward, he thought the lack of sleep had finally caught up with him.
    Then his office chair rolled forward. He caught at his desk and stood. The chair rolled out from under him.
    And he heard it, the creaking of the earth as it turned to Jell-O.
    Thank God. Thank God. He was saved from making a decision about that vicious serial killer. He had an excuse, a good one: earthquake. The big one.
    As if he could stop the shaking, Mona started shouting at him, demanding he take charge, that he do something.
    God, that woman was stupid. Couldn’t she hear the sound of gunfire on the street? Had some crazy fool decided the world was ending? Was he using his pistol to send people to their heavenly reward?
    As Foster ran through the old town hall, the ceiling disintegrated, and chunks of white plaster turned to pellets and rained down on him. He grabbed the massive wooden front door, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get it open; the quake had wedged it tightly into the frame. Then the earth shifted and the door flung itself open.
    He staggered back, arms flailing, then forward, pulling his pistol. He stepped onto the high concrete steps—and discovered what he heard wasn’t gunshots.
    The bricks were popping off the façade of the town hall, hitting the sidewalk and exploding in puffs of red dust. Some hit the street so hard they buried themselves into the warm asphalt.
    A huge crack opened in the pavement, then as the wave rolled on, the crack slammed shut like the giant’s mouth. Over and over it happened, and each time, dust and water flew into the air.
    One car was halted in