Searching For Andromeda 13 Earthquake

The pencil had scribbled through tops and bottoms, sideways, and then vice versa until an image finally came to place. It was nothing but a cobweb and a mother spider in the corner of the room protecting her young. Ephraim had drawn several other things that he had stumbled upon through the whole minute he was in his station.

ANDROMEDA's location wasn't a lab at all. It was an empty, abandoned mansion that gives off an eerie feeling even under the scorching noon. The others had taken several parts of the mansion; Esmeralda to the attic, Samuel to the left-wing, Berthold to the right. Ephraim couldn't quite remember where Hiroaki had gone to.

Ephraim sighed as he examines the one he had taken—bas.e.m.e.nt. He clicked on the wireless earphone, and then for a second, there was static, until a voice answered.

"Status report," he says. "Nothing in the bas.e.m.e.nt but cobwebs, and some peculiar-looking member of the Arachnida cla.s.s."

"Ah—t-team leader," Esmeralda mutters at the end of the line. "P-pretty much nothing in the attic, too . . ."

After a while, followed by a static—the members started to report their findings as well.

"Nothing much in here,"

"Aha . . . as much as I hate to say this, it's just an empty place,"

"UGH. And I thought we're up for somethin' interesting," Samuel says through the static line. "But yeah. There's nothing here."

"HR." Ephraim clicked the other end of the bracelet—one directly connected to the HR.

"Ephraim Ignacio Hughes. Status quo?"

"The house was empty," he says.

". . ." The receiving end did not utter a response.

"But we'll still examine in a few days' time." He says. "Do you copy?"

"Umu," a woman from the HR says. "Affirmative,"

Ephraim stood up from kneeling in the ground. He smoothed his clothes and tapped the dust from his pants. He again examined the bas.e.m.e.nt, and then, he sighs. It had been about almost four hours since the team started the search. Ephraim climbed atop to go aboveground and had reached the house's common area. He clicked the beeper—an indication he needed the team to gather where he was.

Shortly the task force arrived, with nothing at hand but their equipment and gear. They had failed to retrieve anything, and even that obvious fact pained Ephraim.

"Ugh. . ." Samuel grunts as he collapses to his knee to the floor, panting. "I really can't handle walking . . . why'd you put me upstairs?"

"T-team leader, m-maybe if we search hhard enough tomorrow, then. . .!"

"Miss Sanders is right, Raim," Berthold exclaims. "There's always a room for tomorrow."

"Yes, that's precisely how I gathered you all here," Ephraim says. "All of us failed to retrieve a tangible object, but I believe all of us took notes."

"Yes!" Esmeralda says, showing her journal.

"Absolutely." Berthold nods and shows his as well.

"Huh, you guys take notes?" Samuel tilts his head.

"You didn't?" Esmeralda blinks. "Team leader told us to take notes the night before . . .!"

"Huh?" Samuel smirks, and then he points to his brain. "All of it is here."

"Aha, your exceptional photographic memory," Berthold exclaims. "So . . . I believe all of us gathered information? That's more than enough,"

"Yes," Ephraim says, and flashes a smile. "If ALL of us did show their journal."

"Hey, I told you I have it here," Samuel retorts, pointing to his head again. "Here. It means the brain. Why don't you read between the lines, Lame L—"

"No, Sam," says Berthold. "It's . . ."

"That's right," Ephraim smiles. "We're one person lacking."

Esmeralda gasped. "Hiroaki-san!"

And as the team realized a team member didn't arrive at the common room even after summoned, an ear-shattering clatter resonated across the whole mansion. Ephraim and the others eyed each other in alarm as the ground shakes with a fearsome magnitude and intensity.

"Team, remember the drill!" Ephraim says and then covers his nape and head.

The whole place began to shake. There wasn't any table or objects they could use to duck and cover themselves with. The infrastructures danced and shook frighteningly as the team realized the earthquake intensified.

Samuel immediately ran to Esmeralda as he shields her from the falling pillar. It had resulted in the two of them being thrown to the other end of the common room.

"Wait!" Berthold exclaims loudly, as the place crumbles into debris, and before Ephraim could even blink, the pillars had shut the doors' entrance, as well as the other end where Samuel and Esmeralda were thrown off. The place shook with a magnitude not probably bellow 8.

"Ephraim!" Berthold eyes Ephraim with fear as he positions his hand to the beeper, "watch out!"

Before Ephraim could even respond and could even process what Berthold was talking about—in the blink of an eye, a falling concrete had already landed towards him, sending his consciousness astray.

**

It was exactly 6:21 PM when the quake stopped. It was common for Peru to experience earthquakes. The country lies on the Pacific Ring of Fire, which is a curve of fault lines that discs a ring around the Pacific Basin and is susceptible to periodic upheavals, seismic activities, and volcanic eruptions. The South American country records about 200 earthquakes a year, most of them go unnoticed by the public.

Usually, a building has a strong foundation that can withstand even a 7 magnitude earthquake.

But one with falling debris and was unkempt from extensive years couldn't possibly stand such tremor.

Esmeralda soon awoke with the hum of her mother combing her wavy, honey-blond hair. It was a sunny morning, and she could smell the distinct szynka—it was, after all, a bright Śniadanie. Breakfast in Poland was the best for her. It meant home, and home meant her mother and younger brother.

"I want to eat golabki," says Esmeralda to her mother. She couldn't see her face because of the sunlight. Golabki is a Polish dish that consisted of cabbage leaves stuffed with ground meat and rice. She always thought samgyupsal, a Korean variation with pork belly and lettuce, could satisfy her cravings. But it did not. Poland was all she needed.

"You can't eat golabki," her mother answers.

"I know, Ma; it's still morning."

"Nie, Esme," her mother said in a distinctive Polish accent. "You are in America with your Ojciec; you aren't here in Poland ever since I died,"

"Died?"

"Yes," her mother caressed her hair. "Wake up, Esme."

"Mom—Matka—"

"Wake up."

"No—"

"WAKE UP, ESMERALDA!"

Esmeralda's eyes fluttered open, and then as she realized she was now awake, a literal head-splitting pain happened to have befallen her. She clutched the part where the pain originated, and when she withdrew her hand, there was a sinister red liquid right after.

Blood.

"Esmeralda!"

Esmeralda blinked several times, her blurring gaze gradually clearing up. She parted her lips when she sees a familiar face, bruised all over and clothes dusty with concrete powder.

"S-sam . . .?"

Samuel immediately sighed, and then smiled in relief.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it, I thought you're dead." He says, and then hands her a ripped piece of cloth. "Here. I'm sorry for the blood,"

Esmeralda blinked, and then wiped the blood off her head.

"Th-this isn't mine . . .?"

"It isn't," Samuel answers, and then winced as he falls back to his knee. Blood dripped from his arm—

Esmeralda remembered.

When a dwindling pillar at that earthquake almost fell down on her, she was protected by Samuel. The two of them were thrown athwart the room, and then another debris fell, and Samuel's arm had protected Esmeralda's head, but the impact on Esmeralda's head sent her to lose consciousness.

"Samuel!" Esmeralda instantaneously crawls to Samuel and then sees he already had a cloth wrapped to his bloodied arm. Esmeralda trembles as she sees this.

"Th-this is my fault—" Esmeralda's tears started to drip nonstop. "Samuel, I—"

"Hag, hold on right there," Samuel exclaims.

"N-no! I'm so sorry—"

"Seriously, shh!" He hushes her and closes his eyes. "Do you hear that?"

Esmeralda paused, wiping her tears sloppily with her arm. "H-hear what?"

. . . eep . . . beep.

The sound of a beeper had stopped Esmeralda from sobbing; although faint, it was indeed the sound of the beeper from the HR.

Esmeralda immediately clicked hers—

"H-huh?"

"Don't bother," Samuel says. "It's broken."

"No . . ."

"I don't know what happened," says Samuel. "But when I woke up, it's all destroyed."

"That's . . . odd. . . ."

Esmeralda stares at her wrist and looks at the broken beeper.

"How is this . . . broken?"

"Probably a rock or something it," Samuel says. "Since my wrist hurts a lot. I don't know. It may be because of my broken arm."

Esmeralda bit her lip and then sniffled.

"Th-they're not dead, right?"

"What? No," Samuel says—a hint of the slight tinge of disbelief laced in his voice. "No . . ."

Samuel stares vacantly in fear.

"They can't be dead . . ."

. . .eep . . . beep . . . beep.