Aftershock

As soon as I got out of the mountain range, my cell phone was flooded with text messages. My cousin, my another cousin, my parents, and some friends all had the same thing to tell me: a magnitude 6~7 aftershock was in the forecast in the next 24 hours. They all wanted me to be careful.

The night had fallen when I got back to my hotel in Chengdu. I was staying at the International Students’ Center at the Sichuan Normal University. The building was abuzz with activities. Almost every door was open. People were shuttling backpacks, suitcases, luggage, food and water downstairs. Every inch of the lobby was soon covered with bed sheets and comforters. A dozen or so were making such “floor beds” on the basketball court outside.

Seeing the hustling crowd, I felt the urgency to prepare for something major as well. I packed my valuables—computer, video camera, cables, and some money—and staked a corner in the lobby.

Slowly, people settled into their impromptu beds around me. Some were doing their bedtime reading. Some were lying on their backs staring at the ceiling, wearing bicycle helmets. Some were exchanging the latest information about the expected aftershock and complaining about the incessant anxiety they’ve been feeling. Soon all the chatters died down. I sat on the floor, hunched over my computer, which perched on top of my backpack. I had to edit the video I gathered during the day. It took me a couple of hours. Then, I had to go back to my room, which was on the third floor, to connect to the internet and transfer the video back.

I tiptoed around slumbering bodies, and went back upstairs. The upload speed was excruciatingly slow. I had no choice but to sit and wait. I kept the door open, and removed everything from the path to the door. At about 2 am, I was sitting in front of the computer screen, and nodding off. Suddenly, a tremor shot through my spine from my feet. Another one followed immediately. I jumped to my feet, and made a mad dash out of the door and downstairs. Two young men were running besides me, excitedly checking with each other: “Did you feel that? Did you feel that?”

We stopped in the lobby. Not a single one on the floor was stirring. I stood in the dark for a minute. Everything was back to absolute stillness.

I walked back into my room. The video transfer was complete. I passed out in the bed.