One Amazing Thing

say. Today, though, he didn’t recall the problems. What he remembered was the rain coming down in silver sheets on the barn roof, the oaks draped in gray-green moss, the red mud in which you could sink up to your ankles if you weren’t careful, the expanse of endless washed sky from the porch that made a strange hurt in your chest. He would stand on the porch for hours at a time. His cousins laughed at him, called him that daft city boy. He didn’t care. It was the first time in his life that he was aware of nature as a seductive force.

But he couldn’t afford the luxury of reminiscing. He wrenched his mind back to the task at hand, rummaging around on the shelves while Mangalam held the flashlight. Mangalam reeked of mouthwash. It was as though the man hadn’t just swirled it around in his mouth but had splashed some on, like cologne. Oh well. People responded to stress in strange ways. More significant was the fact that they hadn’t found a single strong tool, only another butter knife and a cake server.

What he wouldn’t give for a crowbar, Cameron thought as he walked back. And as though the thought had split him in two, a voice inside his head said, Would you give up Seva?

He was familiar with the tricks of this voice, which had started speaking to him when he was in the war.

No, he said to it.

Not even if you were going to die? the voice persisted. Not even if you knew everyone was going to die because of your decision?

The second question gave him more pause than the first. No, he said finally. And then, I’m not going to answer any more questions.

How about your life? The voice continued, undeterred. Would you give up your life for the lives of all these people?

“Do you think it would help if we removed the doorknob?” Cameron asked Mangalam. He knew he was speaking too loudly. “We could take the screws out with the butter knife. Maybe we’d get a better grip if the hole is opened up-”

The voice grinned. Later, it said, before submerging itself.

Mangalam looked startled at having his opinion solicited, but after a moment he said, “I don’t think that would help.” Hesitantly, he added, “But maybe if everyone who wasn’t hurt held on to one another, and we all pulled together, like when you play tug-of-war-”

That’s what they did. Everyone except Jiang, Lily’s grandmother, and Uma formed a line behind Tariq, who clasped the knob with both hands. Mrs. Pritchett tried to help, but Mr. Pritchett told her, curtly, to please sit down. Each person held the waist of the person in front. When Cameron gave the signal, they pulled as hard as they could. On the third pull, the doorknob broke off, so Cameron took off the screws with the butter knife and Tariq grasped with both hands the edges of the hole that was opened up. On the next pull, the door came unstuck all of a sudden; some people fell down and others fell on top of them. But a cautious cheer went up as soon as they had regained their breath, because the L-shaped bit of corridor that could be seen from the doorway was clear. Tariq gave a triumphant shout and ran out into the passage.

“Wait,” Cameron cried, making a grab for the younger man, but Tariq had already sprinted up the dark corridor. Others tried to follow, but Cameron blocked the doorway with outstretched arms.

“Folks! We’ve got to wait a few minutes to make sure the door wasn’t holding up anything major, something that’s shifting right now and might collapse on us,” he said. They pushed against him. Mangalam was at the front of the crowd with the flashlight. The beam blinded Cameron. He could hear mutinous whispers, someone panting, impatience building like steam inside a cooker. There was a strong possibility that at any moment they would rebel against his cautiousness and trample him in order to follow Tariq. He braced himself for it.

Then they heard the rumble from down the corridor, and Tariq’s cut-off cry.

IT WAS CLEAR TO EVERYONE, EVEN TO HER GRANDMOTHER, WHO was absolutely against it and clutched her tightly to make sure that everyone knew how she felt, that Lily was the only possible choice. She was the smallest and lightest; she might be able to crawl onto the pile of rubble that was now blocking the width of the corridor without starting a landslide and bringing down more of the ceiling. She could peer through the gap of about a foot and a half on top of the rubble and see what lay beyond. Cameron was hoping she would be able to glimpse Tariq, who he suspected was buried under the portion of the ceiling that had collapsed farther down the passage. He wasn’t certain, though, because when he had cautiously called the young man’s name, there had been no answer except for a warning drizzle of plaster from the hole above. Lily gently pried her grandmother’s fingers from her shoulder and gave her a kiss, and nudged her back into the visa office, where Cameron wanted every one to wait in case of further problems. She was surprised at the feel of her grandmother’s cheek, so much more wrinkly than she remembered it, possibly because she hadn’t kissed it in a while. She noticed with a thrum of worry that her grandmother’s hurt arm felt hot. She would have to tell Cameron about it after she returned. She took the pencil flashlight from Cameron, who gripped her elbow.

“Climb only as far as you need to in order to look over the pile,” he whispered. He had explained that out in the passage they must speak very quietly, if at all. Loud sounds could multiply through echoes and cause an avalanche. “If you don’t see him, come back right away. Are you sure you want to try?”

She gave a small, stiff nod, though she was not sure at all. Her heart felt as though it was too big to fit in her chest. She could feel it beating up in her throat.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” he said. “It’s very-”

She didn’t wait for him to finish, because then she would be too scared to do it. She pointed the thin, shaky beam of light at the jumble of Sheetrock, rods, and plaster ahead of her and took small, definite steps. She tried not to look at the gaping tear in the ceiling from which the debris had come-and from which more could drop at any moment-but it pulled at her eyes like a giant magnet. It was darker than anywhere else and huge, a black hole that could suck in entire solar systems. And was that something red shining deep inside it, like eyes? When she reached the pile, she started climbing, feeling carefully with her fingers because Cameron had warned her to watch for nails, some of which might be rusty. The pile shifted. She stiffened. Stopped. When it appeared to be holding, she went on. By the time she reached the top, she was sweating, but she had developed a rhythm of sorts, an understanding of the nature of debris.

She could feel the impatient anxiety of the group, as tangible on her back as heat from a blaze. There had never been a time when so many adults had depended on her for something crucial, something they could not do. It made her feel taller. Without turning her head, she whispered that she could see another pile. It wasn’t very far, maybe three feet ahead. Something dark was sticking out of it. She thought it was a shoe. She would need to get closer to make sure.

“I’m going to climb down to the other side,” she said.

“No.” Cameron spoke with soft urgency. “Come back. Now that we know he’s there, we’ll clear this pile.” When he realized that she wasn’t going to listen, he said, “Be careful. Hold on to the light. If you start to fall, curl into a ball and remain still.”

Lily lay flat on top of the debris for a moment, left hand fisted around the pencil light. She’d have to swing her legs over to the other side before she climbed down, and she wasn’t sure what that would do to the pile. I’m Gulliver, she told herself. This is a mountain in Lilliput. Making it into a fantasy helped a little. She turned her body cautiously and inched her legs across until they hung down. Almost immediately, she began to slip. Her feet couldn’t find a hold. She grasped a piece of wood with her free hand, but it came with her. The entire pile teetered. She felt herself sliding down in a noisy rush of plaster. It’s a small mountain, she kept saying. It’s a small mountain. Then she hit the floor, the blessed, solid floor, with a thump, a fog of dust rising around her. Amazingly, the rest of the pile held. She clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her coughs and dragged herself into the small clearing between the piles.

“Tell Grandma I’m okay,” she whispered as soon as she could speak. She could hear the chain of whispers on the other side, people relaying her message back into the visa office. She crawled forward until she reached the blob-it was a shoe-and grasped it. Carefully, she inched her fingers up over its edge, and sucked in her breath when she felt an ankle. Was it her first dead man she was touching? The thought jerked her hand back even though she hadn’t intended to.

“He’s here,” she whispered.

“Ask him to move his foot,” Cameron said.

She did. There was no response.