EARTHQUAKE!

At precisely 12:59 a.m., the rocky shell did.

The breaking rock created a crack in the earth's surface. The crack traveled like wildfire, racing along the fault at a rate of 350 miles per hour. On either side, huge blocks of rock dropped and slid past each other, sending the earth into the violent and catastrophic dance known to generations of terrified humans simply as - earthquake.

In the state's Earthquake Control Center, men and women peered intently into their computer screens and instrument panels. The room was electric with tension as they worked to locate the epicenter of the quake and measure the strength of the vibrations, or seismic waves, that it sent through the shuddering earth.

Some earthquakes are minor, hardly more than a tiny shiver in the earth's shell. The vibrations these cause are sometimes no greater than those of a passing truck. Tonight, the scientists paused in their work to meet each other's eyes grimly. This quake was no mere hiccup in the earth's surface. This looked like a big one.

With knitted brows, they monitored the first reports of damage coming over the airwaves. As scientists, they knew they must be calm and objective even in the face of disaster. But as human beings, they struggled to subdue their fear. How many lives would this night claim? How many millions of dollars in buildings, bridges, and dams would be lost in this single, violent shaking of the earth's fist? How many of their own loved ones would be counted among the statistics of this night's catastrophe?

As yet, there were no answers. These dedicated scientists could only watch, and measure, and wait.

* * *

The Bamberger house lay several miles from the earthquake's epicenter -- but, even so, the first vibrations were strong enough to shake the sleeping family into instant wakefulness.

Lana clutched a fistful of blanket in one trembling hand, but that was no help because the blanket, and the whole bed, were jerking around like some demented puppet on a string. Her heart was thumping so strongly that she found it hard to catch her breath. Her lungs screamed for air as a fear such as she had never known held her in a paralyzing grip.

She had been almost this afraid once before, in kindergarten, when her schoolbus accidently knocked her over as she dawdled on her way to the sidewalk. But that shock had lasted only seconds. Almost at once, Lana had found herself safe in Ma's arms, with nothing but a badly bruised leg to show for the adventure.

This was different. This was a nightmare that wouldn't end. A steady roar filled Lana's ears. It was coming from inside the house and outside. It sounded like a roar of rage as wide as the whole world.

Not only the bed, but the entire room was rocking violently now, shaking books from their shelves as though they were no heavier than flecks of dust. The crashing books blended in horrifying harmony with the tinkle of splintering glass, as a flying tree limb whipped through the air outside and crashed against her window. Brushes, combs, and ornaments sailed off the dresser. Her closet door flew open as though some unseen hand had flung it wide. Then, before Lana's horrified gaze, the roof of the closet buckled, releasing an avalanche of hangars and dresses in a crumpled mess on the floor. A shower of concrete dust followed.

Through the roaring and the crashing, she heard another sound: a high, terrified wail. Toby!

The sound released Lana from her thrall of terror. How could she have forgotten her little sister in the other bed? And, for that matter, what was she doing sitting here in her own bed? Her parents and teachers had spent a lifetime training her in earthquake measures -- and here she was, huddled in bed as though it offered the tiniest shred of safety!

Scrambling to her feet, she tried to find some purchase on the bucking floor -- and ended up on all fours. She was sobbing as she crawled, calling for her mother, and for her father on the other side of the world. Dimly, through her own terror, she wondered whether the rest of the family was all right...

Crossing the heaving room to Toby's bed seemed to take an eternity. Her little sister was caught in the same clutch of panic that had held Lana so tightly a moment before. She cried, "Lana, Lana, Lana," and held out her arms, but made no attempt to budge.

Reaching up, Lana made a desperate lunge and succeeded in grabbing hold of Toby's leg.

"Come on, Toby," she muttered, though the words were impossible to hear over the sound of the crashing. "Come on!"

At that moment, another violent heave catapulted Toby off the bed and into Lana's arms. With one hand clutching her sobbing sister, Lana turned around and started the long journey across the shuddering floor, headed this time for the door. As if from a great distance, she heard her mother's voice, frantically screaming out their names.

Just as Lana reached the door, the house shook with a last series of violent jerks. Looking over her shoulder, Lana was just in time to see a portion of the roof cave in - directly over Toby's bed. In an instant, the bed was lost in a pile of rubble. White dust drifted lazily upward toward the hole where the ceiling had been.

She stared in horror. Toby, sensing something, tried to wriggle around in her sister's grip to see. "What? What happened?" she asked, her voice thick with tears she had already shed and those still to come.

Lana put a hand over the little girl's eyes. "Don't look," she commanded. A strange new strength seemed to flow through her. This was disaster on a major scale -- and she was coping. With Hashem's help, she was coping.