Collin took a long drag on his last cigarette, then put it out. The early evening air was cooling and the sun no longer beat down through the damaged roof. Although the advent of night was foreboding, the lack of heat was a relief. Between calls, and right on time, he lifted the microphone and gave KMPR's frequency. Then he briefly reviewed his list of instructions, adding the number of dead across the street. It hadn't changed in an hour. Those most easily saved had already been pulled out, and without equipment the tired, overburdened workers moved slowly or not at all. Finally, he laid the mike back down next to the Amateur Radio speaker.

Something was wrong. Sarah's usually cheerful and calm voice sounded on edge, "SK, what is your location?"

"AV7SK. I'm on 16th Avenue east, over."

"SK, we need a cross street. Come on people, I've got eight calls backed up here."

Max instantly stuck his head through the adjoining window. "What's wrong with her?"

Collin shrugged his shoulders and listened.

"SK, we've just had a major earthquake. I don't think anybody cares if traffic is backed up on Capitol Hill. Traffic is backed up everywhere, over."

"Sarah, I'm trying to tell you we've got a huge sink hole. Over."

Second after second ticked by before Sarah answered. This time her voice sounded as though she were near tears, "I'm sorry SK. I ... guess I'm getting a little tired. Can you give me the cross street again, I didn't get it written down, over."