Earthquake by Kathleen Duey

concern on Brendan’s face. But even once she realized what she was doing, it took her a moment to stop, to cover her mouth with her hands. Her whole body was shaking.
    She stared down at her uncle. She had gripped his hand when the ground started moving. He had not responded. He had not opened his eyes when she called his name. He had not wakened when she had gripped his shoulder. He lay now at a twisted angle, his fall stopped only because he had slumped against the brick wall.
    â€œDai Yue?” Brendan ran toward her. People in the street were moving again, their eyes fastened on the cobblestones in front of them. “Dai Yue, what’s wrong?” Brendan yelled as he came to stand beside her.
    She tried to speak but could not. Her thoughts were tangled and would not separate themselves into sense. Her uncle was dead. She knew it. She knew it without touching him, without listening for a whisper of breath, without feeling the warmth drain from his skin.
    Brendan was staring into her face, his eyes searching for a wound, a bruise. He held her shoulders. She raised one shaking hand and pointed.
    Brendan seemed to understand immediately. He ran to kneel beside her uncle. Dai Yue could not bear to watch as Brendan tried to rouse him. She turned and faced the street. The people passed without so much as a glance. She saw a young mother leading two children, a third in her arms. They were all crying.
    â€œDai Yue?” Brendan’s voice was curt.
    She forced herself to face him. Her uncle had fallen sideways. Brendan was struggling to lay him down on his back.
    â€œHelp me, Dai Yue.”
    She shook her head. If her uncle was dead, she had no one, no place to go.
    â€œHelp me,” Brendan said again. His face was pale, his eyes wide.
    Dai Yue shook her head again, but forced herself to take a step toward him. She felt cold suddenly, and her legs seemed to be made of rubber. She saw sparkles floating in the air in front of her and stumbled sideways. Brendan’s hands were suddenly on her shoulders. He steadied her until the wheeling sparks receded, then disappeared.
    â€œDai Yue?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œHe’s dead.”
    She squeezed her eyes shut. “I know.” As soon as she spoke the words, a blackness seemed to swell inside her, pushing its way into her heart. Alone. She was alone.
    â€œWe have to go.”
    Dai Yue looked up wildly. What did he mean? She could not leave her uncle to lie in the street like a dog. She would have to arrange a funeral, a banquet for his business associates, for his wealthy clients. She could not dishonor him by—
    â€œWe can’t stay here. The fires are coming fast.”
    Dai Yue wrenched free, staggering backward.
    Brendan was looking toward Chinatown. “Dai Yue, there’s nothing else we can do.”
    Dai Yue heard his words and she understood them. But the meaning lay on the surface of her thoughts. It did not touch the seething clouds of confusion that raged inside her. She could not leave her uncle here. How could she do that? Her ancestors were whispering to her from their graves. They were angry that she would allow this boy to touch her uncle, to talk about leaving his body in a filthy Fon Kwei street.
    â€œDai Yue.”
    He reached for her but she spun away from him, bumping into a man carrying a crate of frightened doves. The birds fluttered and the man cursed her without really looking at her. She backed away from him, her eyes still on Brendan.
    â€œI won’t leave you here.”
    Dai Yue began to shake. The trembling rose from her legs and into her belly and it took a few moments for her to realize that it was not just inside her. The city was quivering again. Bricks fell into the crowd. The soldiers across Powell Street looked up from theirspilled liquor and scowled, waiting for the tremor to stop. When it did, Brendan spoke.
    â€œI won’t leave you and I can’t carry you. You have to come on