The Shattered Swan

By Krystiana Stacy Kelly

Tamara Villanueva is visiting her small hometown in southern Peru when she is caught in a massive earthquake. During the disaster she witnesses what might have been murder. But she’s not sure – until her aunt is found dead.
When the earthquake is over and her shell-shocked family is standing around in the street, she tries unsuccessfully to convince them that her aunt might not have died of natural causes.
The next few months take her on a journey of truth seeking. During that time she confronts the toll, both physical and mental, that the earthquake has taken on her, her family and the town. Will the answers she’s looking for lead to justice – or destroy an already devastated town further?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Krystiana Stacy Kelly
• Release date: Jan 29, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458054579

Krystiana Stacy Kelly

Krystiana's debut novel, The Shattered Swan, is a fictional work loosely based on her experience in an 8.1 earthquake.10% of all author proceeds go towards earthquake relief. For more information, visit the author's blog or twitter account.Look for the second book of the Tamara series, The Crumbled Pyramid, out in 2012.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The noises began shortly before the house started moving. At first it was just a gentle tinkling sound coming from the knick-knacks in the curio cabinet. A second later the lights went out and with a jerky series of rumbling in between, the clinking glass fell and a roaring whoosh physically filled the air.

What’s going on? I turned to where my aunt had been standing. She was gone. The floor shook. I stood up from the sofa. In the darkness I felt, rather than saw, people milling around.

Sergio, my cousin, materialized as if from nowhere and shouted at me, Don’t move. Stay where you are. Then he was gone too.

The tile floor rolled beneath me in ripples. Shocked, I stood obediently in front of the sofa as if held by some unseen force. Things were falling down around me but I continued to stay where I was. Then I felt a sharp pain in my head. Flashes of light pulsated under my half closed eyelids and my body was forced forward. I tripped over the glass table in front of me and fell. After lying sprawled on the floor for a moment feeling dazed, I decided to get up - numb and reeling from confusion.

My hand hit something as I fumbled to get to my feet. I picked it up and felt it absentmindedly with one hand while using the other to test for blood on my scalp. Feeling none, I concentrated instead on the object. It turned out to be a small crystal swan that I had seen earlier adorning the shelf above the sofa. It must have flown off its perch and come crashing onto my head on its way down. I sat up and turned to look at the wall. A huge crack slashed its way down the wall, getting bigger as I watched. I stared, able to see only faintly by a greenish glow seeping in from outside, until another rolling wave of sound and movement invaded my space. I heard the earth roar, its cadence drowning out the delicate sounds that had started the whole debacle.

It was time to get out.

I began to walk, attempting to put on my sea legs to adjust to the undulating floor. Making my way quickly to the front door, I put the swan into my pocket and forgot about it.

The door was wide open. I stumbled out. The ground outside seemed worse than the floor inside, lilting from side to side, rising and falling like a flattened Tilt-a-Whirl. Ragged pieces of adobe bricks were strewn all over the ground, forming an obscene obstacle course. Shuffling carefully to avoid tripping, I turned and looked up as I had done with the wall inside a moment ago, curiosity fighting the need to get away. There was a huge, gaping hole in what used to be the third floor of the house.

Surprise would have made me gasp, but dust hung thickly in the air and breathing was nearly impossible. My lungs took in quantities of the fine, tan sand that makes up the land in Ica and I leaned over, choking. Pieces of brick were still falling so I scooted hurriedly out into the street looking around me wildly.

But at least I was outside now, which felt freer – if not safer. A few paces in front of me were several family members standing in a circle. Some of them were crying. Others stood silently - shocked. They had all come to my aunt’s house to welcome me home after several years in Chicago.

Through the eerie green light – its origin unknown - I counted everyone. The only person missing was Laura, my mother’s sister and secretly my favorite aunt – the owner of the house, who had been at my side just moments ago.

Where’s Aunt Laura? I asked my Aunt Daniela, who shrieked when she saw me, then pulled me into a hug like a death-grip.

Where’s Laura? I repeated more loudly when I got no answer.

What? Her crying hiccupped into speech. I don’t know. Where have you been? We were looking for you.

It crossed my mind briefly, and a little resentfully, as I glanced at the circle of my relatives that I had been standing inside for what seemed like hours – had they actually looked for me? But then I peered at the house again. It sat precariously on the once firm ground, engulfed in a murky darkness. The rest of it could fall down at any moment for all I knew – would I have ventured in to look for someone under those circumstances? Would I have even had the presence of mind to know that anyone was still in there? These thoughts passed through my mind as if I were in a time warp while I grabbed Daniela to keep steady as the ground continued moving.

My heart flipped over at the thought that someone could have been crushed under the huge pile of rubble that used to be the right side of the house. Then I turned my focus back to my Aunt Laura… where was she? I stared blankly at the wreckage in front of me a sick feeling shooting through my stomach and up into my throat. Maybe there was someone under those bricks… maybe Laura…

Desperate to find her, I stumbled around the circle grabbing the arms of everyone that I saw, happy to see them but asking them frantically if they had seen her. No one had. They all started shifting nervously, sensing my alarm. I heard several of them call out to Laura and the circle broke, people scattering in all directions.

I started off alone down the longest path that curved around the house to the North. Despite my sense of hours having passed, it had only been about a minute and a half since the movement had started – we were halfway through a 3-1/2 minute earthquake. Perhaps, having seen what had happened to her house, she had gone to check on the rest of her property. Her vineyard, in the family for generations, was like the child that she had never had. The entrance to the rows of grape vines lay up ahead and to the right at the end of a long path. The shores of the lagoon on this side were at the end of a smaller trail that led in an entirely different direction, rarely used anymore. I made my way toward it, pausing when I heard sounds that might have been voices from a lagoon towards my left.

Starting down the trail as I got closer to the water, I strained my eyes. There were two shadowy figures standing under the large willow tree that hung over the small lake. At least I thought they looked like the silhouettes of two people, but I couldn’t be totally sure. I needed to get closer. All of a sudden the ground stopped moving, throwing my guarded gait off completely, and I tripped on a fallen branch that was lying across the path. My arms flailed around looking for something to grab. Finding nothing, I ended up on all fours, my knees and wrists smarting from the impact.

From behind me I started to hear people calling to each other, but they weren’t coming in my direction. I thought I heard them yell for me but I was focused on finding Laura, so I didn’t try to call out. Wincing, I got slowly to my feet. Some wetness dripped down my leg. I reached down with a shaking hand and touched the wet area.

I leaned on a tree and wiped my hand on my jeans. As I did, the ground suddenly surged with renewed intensity. As a strong aftershock rocked the earth I thought I heard a faint scream. I tried to wipe the dust out of my eyes, but succeeded in only adding blood to the mixture of sweat and dirt on my face. I blinked again in the direction of the tree, finding myself pretty close now. I was in time to see one of the blurry shadows lift its arm, my view inhibited by the haze around me and the grime in my eyes, but I thought I saw a monstrous arm, thinnest by the shoulder but large and round where the hand should be. This arm suddenly swung outward, apparently striking the other shadow, which fell.

The monster turned and disappeared quickly into the darkness. I screamed, not knowing what had just happened but sensing that it had not been good. I could barely see in the dim light, but the fallen shadow wasn’t getting back up, so I stumbled closer, bleeding as I went, still thinking of finding Laura and hoping she had not been either of those terrible shadows.

As I reached the tree I turned to dip my hands into the cold water to wash my eyes. My vision cleared, helped also by the moon’s reflection. Two enormous branches of the old willow had cracked and fallen, in a gnarled x formation, halfway into the water. Dismayed, I started toward them, my breath coming in deep choking gasps. Suddenly the ground stopped moving again.

This time the abrupt lack of movement made me crash into the trunk of the tree. Something moved over my head. I raised my arms in a defensive motion and was rewarded with a ragged branch scratching across my forearms. The branch thumped onto the ground as an uneasy calm settled over the area. I took a step away from the tree. My foot landed on something hard in the soft, sandy ground. Bending down, I fumbled around, found something and picked it up. Squinting and feeling its smoothness, I took a good look at it. It was the swan that I had put into my pocket, which must have fallen out when I collided with the tree. Resignedly I tucked it back into my pocket and focused once more on my surroundings.

A dark shape sprawled just a few feet away from me, next to the damaged branches. I shuffled over, afraid to fall again, reached out and touched it, gingerly feeling the silky texture and delicate buttons of a blouse. I blinked rapidly a few times and looked closer. My heart jumped and sweat broke out on my forehead. It was my aunt.

I got down on my knees to have a better look – hardly noticing the sharp pain that shot through me as the wound on my right knee opened further. Frantically I grabbed her wrist and felt for a pulse. As far as I could tell there was none. Help, I tried to yell through clogged lungs. But no one came. No one was near enough to hear me.

The other shadow – the monster – where had it gone, I thought to myself, hoping that it had all been a distorted vision and maybe someone had run to get assistance. What had the two of them been doing out here arguing in the middle of an earthquake anyway? What was the object that had fallen and where was it now? Did the first shadow drop it or had they thrown it? I looked around, but before I could find anything my aunt moved slightly. I bent down toward her.

Aunt Laura? I shouted. Laura, are you OK?

Her eyes fluttered open and then closed again. "Tamara…?

It’s me. Don’t worry about anything. Help is coming. You’ll be fine…

Tamara, Her voice, faint and gasping, became more urgent. Sw… swan… the s…

Confused and distracted by what she was saying, I looked over to the lagoon. What swans, Aunt Laura? I’m sure they’re fine…

No… th- the glass…, the sw…

Comprehension dawned. Oh, you mean your glass swan from the living room? Don’t worry about that, I’ve got it. I interrupted, not wanting her to talk more. But what happened to you? Who was that with you? Did they go to get help?

She was murmuring something but her voice was too quiet. I had to put my ear to her mouth to hear. Should have told you earlier… She was making a tremendous effort to speak. Document… inside… important… Need to promise me!

What Tia? I reverted to the Spanish term of endearment that I used when addressing her, what should I promise?

Take care… swans…

Take care of the swans? OK, I promise. But you’re going to be all right. You can take care of them yourself.

Yes… good. I could sense, more than see her smiling. Then she stopped talking. Her head fell to the side.

Laura, There was no response. Wake up, I shouted wildly, shaking her.

From out of nowhere a sound swirled in the air, getting more intense with each second. A primeval shiver wound its way down my spine - the sound was uncannily like the toc, toc, toc of the alligator coming for Captain Hook in the Disney version of Peter Pan. The ground kept moving – would it ever stop? Three minutes seems like an eternity in awful situations. Suddenly there was an explosion of light in my head. Then - blackness.

Chapter 2

When I woke up I had no idea where I was or how much time had passed. I was lying on the sandy soil of the riverbank and I could hear the soft lapping of water. I looked up and saw the broken branches of the tree above me. The ground was still. I knew vaguely that I had just been in an earthquake but couldn’t figure out why I was lying out here. The last thing I remembered was leaving the house.

Getting up was a grueling task, even though the earth was still now. Not only did my legs and arms hurt like the devil. My head was pounding. I looked over and my heart nearly jumped out of its cavity. Laura was lying on the ground not far from me. I crawled over to her. Tia? She didn’t respond. I reached out to her. She seemed to be breathing but I couldn’t tell for sure. There was blood on her face. Tia, what happened to you? No answer.

I racked my brain trying to remember how we both got there. Nothing came to me. For a moment, frustrated at my lack of memory, I panicked. But it only lasted for a moment. What I needed to do was go get help. I pushed myself to my feet and hobbled awkwardly back to the house. I didn’t pass anyone on the way so I guessed that they must be spread around the grounds looking for us. They had not yet thought of the tree, but since this part of the lagoon was in an area rarely visited, I wasn’t surprised.

The scene back at the house was horrifying. Laura’s home had been a three-story building. The top story was now crumbled in pieces on top of the garage next door. Underneath it all sat the remains of a car – crushed like a soda can on its way to be recycled. As I stood looking dumbly at the wreckage, my body cried out with a tedious but basic need - I had to go to the bathroom. I looked around, fighting to gain back a sense of normality. Turning back to the lagoon, I began walking away from the house – with its bathrooms – behind me, instinctively knowing that it would be better to find a random bush. But as I moved farther away I heard people talking ahead of me. Recognizing my aunt Daniela’s voice – and the sharp fear in it – I could make out that my family had found Laura.

I couldn’t go that way – there would be people all over. Turning back, I went and stared again at the house. It was a large building with an unusual layout. The living room stood almost as a single unit with a door on the northern end leading to a hallway. This hallway curved westward, and to the left. Following it down, it turned into a series of rooms that went back one behind the other, five rooms deep, to a large patio and yard beyond. The living room had a stairway on the left that led to the second and third floors. Standing in the front doorway, I could see that rubble had filled the door between the living room and the hallway that went to the only first floor bathroom, which meant that I would have to go upstairs to get to one. Trying not to think, I stepped into the house.

Incongruous greenish light seeped in. I hadn’t noticed it as much when I was outside, and later on, when I related my tale to people in Lima and in Chicago, very few believed me about it. It was not an illuminating light, and so it was dark and difficult to see anything clearly inside. So I took my time getting to the staircase. Halfway there, my foot knocked into a small, hard object. I squatted down and felt around, found what I had kicked and picked it up. It was someone’s cell phone. I opened it. The light, dim as it was, was the brightest thing around. I turned it towards the stairs, which helped me see better.

The stairs were made of concrete blocks stacked on top of each other at an angle, separated by metal bars, which were now partly shaken out of their fixings. So my way up was wobbly. My heart beat a million miles per hour as I gingerly stepped from one stair to the next, not thinking, letting my bladder decide for me. Getting to the second floor I stood, speechless, at the open area ahead of me that used to be four separate rooms. Walls had collapsed, beds had been squashed and bookshelves had fallen. On the north side of what was now one large room I could see clear through to the outside. Over to the west I stared at what had been Laura’s third floor – now crumpled at a downward angle over the crushed garage.

Nothing had been left standing. Nothing that is, except for the toilet. I walked cautiously toward it. The floor shook under me as I walked, but only slightly. I did not think about the implications of being on the second floor of such an unstable building, all I wanted was to pee and get out. I kept walking toward the toilet. The floor kept shaking. My hand, shaking too, dropped the cell phone. Suddenly from below on the first floor I heard the faint sound of someone calling my name. I shuffled to the toilet, my hands out in front of me, and finished what I needed to do faster than I had ever done before. On my way back I dragged my feet, hoping to find the cell phone before going down the steps. I kicked it, bent over and picked it up. It didn’t feel like a cell phone. I looked closer. The pesky swan was lying once again in my hands. With an exasperated clicking of my tongue, I fumbled around trying to find a more secure pocket to put it in and was just about to reach down again for the cell phone when I heard the voices again. So I shuffled closer to the stairway. When I reached them I saw faintly that the son of