The Shaking

Chapter Thirty One

Jubilee Court, Addiscome. 20.52.

It took the Bucklands longer than expected to reach Michelle's grandmother's flat; by the time they did, twilight had fallen. Though the effects of the earthquake had become less pronounced as the family trekked west, there were still instances where they'd had to divert around streets cluttered with fallen rubble from damaged buildings or skirt what might be trouble of other kinds. Eventually Ryan armed himself with a short length of scaffold pole he came across at the site of a house renovation and felt more confident as a result; but now he had to be wary of any moving bright lights lest they be the headlamps of police cars or the spotlights of low-flying helicopters heralding a fusillade of automatic fire.

Eventually, footsore and weary, they arrived at Nan's squat block of sheltered flats. Almost immediately they ran into the truculent warden, Hobbs, as Ryan knocked on the common entry door which had been locked shut.

"Go away!" Hobbs shouted through the wire reinforced glass "I'm not opening up at this time of night!"

"It's Michelle Buckland! I'm checking to see my grandmother's OK. She's Sylvia Grant in number twelve!"

"She's all right! I looked in on everyone here personally. You can come back and see her tomorrow!"

"I'm not waiting until then! I want to see her now!

"Well you can't! You'll just have to- OI!" Hobbs exclaimed as Ryan unexpectedly swung his scaffold pole at the door lock with such force it startled Michelle, Grace, and the warden.

"Open the door!" demanded Buckland. "Or I will!"

"I'll call the police!" threatened Hobbs.

"Go right ahead." sneered Ryan. "I think you'll find they've got their hands rather full at the moment! 'Chelle, you and Grace stand well back. I'm going to get this door open whatever it takes!"

The women did as instructed, then Buckland began to methodically rain forceful blows on the area of the door which contained the latch. It was a frightening sight for Michelle to watch her husband swinging away with such a demented strength at the lock; she caught the look in his eyes as he did so and wondered what kind of stresses he had experienced during his day which were being relieved now.

Pausing for a moment Ryan changed his grip on the thick pipe and started slamming the end of it like a battering ram. Michelle could see the door flexing in its frame and the toughened glass cracking as well as breaking into small chunks under Ryan's determined assault.

"All right! Stoppit! You'll frighten the residents! I'll open the door!" Hobbs capitulated.

No sooner had Hobbs unlocked the door Ryan put his shoulder to it, pushing aside and unbalancing the warden who staggered backward a few unsteady steps. Buckland shook his pole at him. "And don't you ever try to keep us out again..." he warned. Wide eyed and fearful Hobbs shrank back still further. Behind him a front door opened a crack and a concerned elderly face showed pale in the moonlight dimness of the hall's emergency lighting.

"What's going on?" the woman asked plaintively.

"It's all right Joan." Hobbs replied. "It's nothing to worry about. Just stay inside and do as I tell you." The door closed again and the sound of bolts being thrown closed punctuated the tense atmosphere.

"You see what you've done?" chided Hobbs, regaining some of his composure. "You shouldn't-"

"Shut it." Ryan said in a loud, threateningly level tone of voice which left no doubt as to what would happen if his command was ignored. Hobbs shut up.