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osed darkness nauseated him and he reeled in panic to his feet； smashing his head against a jutting chunk of concrete that was once part of the outside wall and fell back stunned； his fall protected by the debris of an easy chair。 In a little while his mind cleared； but his head ached； arms ached； body ached。 The phosphorescent figures on his watch attracted his attention。 He peered at them。 The time was 11：41。
I remember 。。。 what do I remember？
〃e on for chrissake；〃 he muttered； 〃get with it！ Get yourself together。 Where the hell was I？〃 His eyes traced the darkness with growing horror。 Vague shapes of girders； broken concrete and the remains of a room。 He could see little and recognized nothing。 Light from somewhere glistened off a shiny surface。 It was a wrecked oven。 All at once his memory flooded back。
〃I was standing in the kitchen；〃 he gasped out loud。 〃That's it； and Orlanda had just left； about an hour； no less'n that； half an hour。 That'd make it around nine when 。。。 when whatever happened happened。 Was it an earthquake？ What？〃
Carefully he felt his limbs and face； a stab of pain from his right shoulder every time he moved。 〃Shit；〃 he muttered； knowing it was dislocated。 His face and nose were burning and bruised。 It was hard to breathe。 Everything else seemed to be working； though every joint felt as though he had been racked and his head ached terribly。 〃You're okay； you can breathe； you can see； you can 。。。〃
He stopped； then groped around and found a small piece of rubble； carefully raised his hand； then dropped it。 He heard the sound the rubble made and his heart picked up。 〃And you can hear。 Now； what the hell happened？ Jesus； it's like that time on Iwo Jima。〃
He lay back to conserve his strength。 〃That's the thing to do；〃 the old top sergeant had told them； 〃you lay back and use your goddamn loaf if you're caught in an excavation or buried by a bomb。 First make sure you can breathe safe。 Then burrow a hole； do anything； but breathe any way you can； that's first； then test your limbs and hearing； you'll sure as hell know you can see but then lay back and get your goddamn head together and don't panic。 Panic'll kill you。 I've dug out guys after four days'n they've been like a pig in shit。 So long's you can breathe and see and hear； you can live a week easy。 Shit； four days's a piece of cake。 But other guys we got to within'n hour'd drowned themselves in mud or crap or their own fear vomit or beaten their goddamn heads unconscious against a goddamn piece of iron when we was within a few feet of the knuckle…heads an' if they'd just been lying there like I told you； nice'n easy； quiet like； they'd've heard us and they could've shouted。 Shit！ Any you bastards panic when you're buried you'd better believe you're dead men。 Sure。 Me I been buried fifty times。 No panic！〃
〃No panic。 No sir；〃 Bartlett said aloud and felt better； blessing that man。 Once during the bad time on Iwo Jima； the hangar he had been building was bombed and blown up and he had been buried。 When he had dug the earth out of his eyes and mouth and ears； panic had taken him and he had hurled himself at the tomb and then he had remembered； Don't panic； and forced himself to stop。 He had discovered himself shivering like a cowed dog under the threat of a lash but he had dominated the terror。 Once over the terror and whole； he had looked around carefully。 The bombing had been during the day so he could see well enough and noticed the beginning of a way out。 But he had waited； cautiously； remembering instructions。 Very soon he heard voices。 He called out； conserving his voice。
〃That's another goddamn obvious thing； conserve your voice； huh？ You don't shout yourself hoarse the first time you hear help near。 Be patient。 Shit； some guys I know shouted themselves so goddamn hoarse they was goddamn dumb when we was within easy distance and we lost 'em。 Get it through your goddamn heads； we gotta have help to find you。 Don't panic！ If you can't shout； tap； use anything； make a noise somehow； but give us a sign and we'll get you out； so long's you can breathe … a week's easy； no sweat。 You bastards should go on a diet anyways 。。。〃
Now Bartlett was using all his faculties。 He could hear the wreckage shifting。 Water was dripping nearby but no sounds of humans。 Then； faintly； a police siren which died away。 Reassured that help was on the way； he waited。 His heart was controlled。 He lay back and blessed that old top sergeant。 His name was Spurgeon； Spurgeon Roach； and he was black。
It must've been an earthquake； he thought。 Has the whole building collapsed or was it just our floor and the next above？ Maybe an airplane crashed into 。。。 Hell； no； I'd've heard the ining noise。 Impossible for a building to collapse； not with building regs； but hey； this's Hong Kong and we heard some contractors don't always obey regulations； cheat a little； don't use first…grade steel or concrete。 Jesus if I get； no； when I get out 。。。
That was another inviolate rule of the old man。 〃Never forget； so long's you can breathe； you will get out； you will。 。。。〃
Sure。 When I get out I'm going to find old Spurgeon and thank him properly and I'm going to sue the ass out of someone。 Casey's sure to 。。。 ah Casey； I'm sure as hell glad she's not in this shit； nor Orlanda。 They're both 。。。 Jesus； could Orlanda have been caught wh…
The wreckage began to settle again。 He waited； his heart pounding。 Now he could see just a little better。 Above him was a twisted mass of steel beams； and pipes half imbedded in broken jagged concrete； pots and pans and broken furniture。 The floor he was lying on was equally broken。 His tomb was small； barely enough space to stand。 Reaching up above with his good arm he could not touch the makeshift ceiling。 On his knees now he reached again； then stood； feeling his way； the tiny space claustrophobic。 〃Don't panic；〃 he said out loud。 Groping and bumping into outcrops he circumnavigated the space he was in。 〃About six feet by five feet；〃 he said out loud； the sound of his voice encouraging。 〃Don't be afraid to talk out loud；〃 Spurgeon Roach had said。
Again the light glinting off the oven attracted him。 If I'm near that； I'm still in the kitchen。 Now where was the oven in relation to anything else？ He sat down and tried to reconstruct the apartment in his mind。 The oven had been set into a wall opposite the big cutting table； opposite the window； near the door； and the big refrigerator was beside the door and across the w…
Shit； if I'm in the kitchen there's food and beer and I can last out the week easy！ Jesus； if I could only get some light。 Was there a flash？ Matches？ Matches and a candle？ Hey； wait a minute； sure； there was a flash on the wall near the refrigerator！ She said they were always blowing fuses and sometimes the power failed and 。。。 and sure； there were matches in the kitchen drawer； lots of them； when she lit the gas。 Gas。
Bartlett stopped and sniffed the air。 His nose was bruised and stuffed and he tried to clear it。 Again he sniffed。 No smell of gas。 Good； good he thought； reassured。 Getting his bearings from the oven he groped around； inch by inch。 He found nothing。 After another half an hour his fingers touched some cans of food； then some beer。 Soon he had four cans。 They were still chilled。 Opening one； he felt oh so much better； sipping it； conserving it … knowing that he might have to wait days； finding it eerie down there in the dark； the building creaking； not knowing exactly where he was； rubble falling from time to time； sirens from time to time； water dripping； strange chilling sounds everywhere。 Abruptly a nearby tie…beam shrieked； tormented by the thousands of tons above。 It settled an inch。 Bartlett held his breath。 Movement stopped。 He sipped his beer again。
Now do I wait or try to get out？ he asked himself uneasily。 Remember how old Spurgeon'd always duck that one。 〃It depends； man。 It depends；〃 he'd always say。
More creaking above。 Panic began to well but he shoved it back。 〃Let's recap；〃 he said aloud to reassure himself。 〃I got provisions now for two； three days easy。 I'm in good shape an' I can last three； four days easy but you； you bastard；〃 he said to the wreckage above； 〃what're you going to do？〃
The tomb did not answer him。
Another spine…chilling screech。 Then a faint voice； far overhead and to the right。 He lay back and cupped his hands around his mouth。 〃Helllp！〃 he shouted carefully and listened。 The voices were still there。 〃Helllp！〃
He waited but now there was a vast emptiness。 He waited。 Nothing。 His disappointment began to engulf him。 〃Stop it and wait！〃 The minutes dragged heavily。 There was more water dripping； much more than before。 Must be raining again； he thought。 Jesus！ I'll bet there was a landslide。 Sure； don't you remember the cracks in the roads？ Goddamn son of a bitching landslide！ Wonder who all else got caught？ Jesus what a goddamn mess！
He tore off a strip of his shirt and tied a knot in it。 Now he could tell； the days。 One knot for each day。 His watch had read 10：16 when his head had first cleared； now it was 11：58。
Again all his attention zeroed。 Faint voices； but nearer now。 Chinese voices。
〃Helllp！〃
The voices stopped。 Then； 〃Where you arrrr； h