Jake and the Quake

By Cary Sneider

When Jake finds an unusual rock in the cliffs under the Golden Gate bridge, he embarks on an adventure of discovery that will bring him new friends, new knowledge, and even the confidence to face a devastating earthquake.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tumblehome, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781943431670

Book preview

Chapter 1

Discovery

San Francisco, California—Sunday, October 1, 1989—10:58 a.m.

He couldn’t quite believe how blue the sky was that clear Sunday in October. A single bird, tiny and black, darted between bare branches against billowing white clouds. It was the day his life would change, though he didn’t know it at the time. All he knew was that someone was shouting. Get under it, Jake! Get under it! He whipped his head around just in time to see another tiny shape, high against the deep blue sky. A pop fly headed for left field, and it was his!

It was starting down now. He’d have to run in. His world narrowed to that bright spot of white and the feel of his glove. The spot grew bigger as he ran. But something was wrong. He tried to stop and back up, but it was too late. Trying to run backward while keeping his eye on the ball, he lost his balance and hit the ground hard. To add insult to injury, he felt the ball hit him on the right shoulder as he fell, grabbing with his glove.

He scooped it up and fired it to third base just in time. The hitter made it back to second. He’d missed catching the fly, but it could have been worse. At least the runner didn’t score, and Jake’s team, the Tiger Cats, were still in the running.

While the next batter started taking a few practice swings, Jake glanced over at his mom, Dana, and her boyfriend, Sam, sitting in the stands. He’d begged her to come to today’s game, but now he seriously regretted it. That’s just great, he thought. I struck out both times I was at bat, and now I muffed my chance to catch a pop fly and tripped over my own feet. What a bummer.

The inning was up before he knew it. And soon, the Tiger Cats had lost again.

Walking to the car after the game, Sam put his arm over Jake’s shoulder. You did the best you could, but you have to keep your eye on the ball.

Jake ducked out from under Sam’s arm. Thanks a lot, he snarled. I’ll be sure to do that next time.

Jake, said his mom, Sam’s only trying to help.

Jake had lost count of the times Sam had given him the same advice. He wouldn’t mind so much if Sam actually helped him practice when he came over on weekends. The few times Dana persuaded him to go to the park with Jake so they could bond, Sam insisted on standing in one spot with the bat and hitting flies while Jake ran all over the field. Most of the time Sam wouldn’t even play catch, claiming his arm hurt, or he was too tired.

The rest of the day was less painful but a lot more boring. After the game, Sam insisted on lunch at a hot new seafood place in Sausalito where they served burgers with onions diced so small that you could never get them all off. At least the seagulls were fun. Jake enjoyed tossing them French fries. He was amazed at how they could see a fry coming so quickly, then swoop in for a perfect catch almost every time. The Tigers sure could use a gull or two in the field, he thought glumly.

By this time, Jake was losing interest in the conversation and the gulls. He wanted to be out of there. Away from boring Sausalito.

Hey, let’s go check out the fishing at Fort Baker, said Jake, hoping they might run into his friend, Tony Trejos, who sometimes went fishing there with his mom and dad. It’s only about five minutes from here.

Dana and Sam said they wanted to browse the Sausalito shops for a while, especially after how long it had taken to find a parking place. But they were willing to go halfway. After dragging Jake through galleries and jewelry stores for twenty minutes, they piled into Sam’s ten-year-old Ford and headed for East Fort Baker, nestled along the Sausalito side of the Golden Gate Bridge. From the fishing pier you could see the City of San Francisco, with the bridge off to the right and Angel Island to the left.

As luck would have it, Tony was there, fishing with his mom and dad. Although they were all facing towards the bay, Jake immediately recognized Tony’s shiny black hair blowing in the breeze, and his mom’s brightly colored skirt. Seagulls were weaving and diving, clearly aiming at the bait bucket, with Tony’s dad trying to bat them away. Jake let out a shout and Tony spun around.

Hi Jake! Where’s your pole? said Miguel Trejos, not waiting for a reply as he rested his pole against the railing so he and his wife, Rosita, could walk over to chat with Dana and Sam.

Tony was Jake’s best friend. In fact, he was Jake’s only friend. He didn’t make fun of Jake’s thick glasses, and didn’t seem to mind that Jake was almost always in a bit of a fog, even in the midst of a ball game or a math test.

They made an unlikely pair of thirteen–year–olds. Jake’s tall, white–skinned, gangly figure and light brown hair contrasted with Tony’s short, well–proportioned frame. Jake’s serious demeanor rarely matched Tony’s flashing grin, and he never did as well in school or sports as Tony. Even though Tony and his parents had only lived in this country for about five years, Tony was doing well in his classes, and he was very popular.

Sometimes Jake thought that Tony liked to have him around because it made him look great by comparison, especially to the girls. But there were no girls around today, and Tony appeared genuinely glad to see him.

Man, am I glad you came by. The fish just aren’t biting and I’m about ready to toss my pile worms to the seals.

Jake nudged the bait cup with the toe of his sneaker. Five or six pile worms writhed in a paper cup, their dozens of tiny feet wriggling in waves down the lengths of their bodies. It reminded Jake of the part of fishing that he could never quite get used to—sliding the worms onto the hook and wiping their green blood off on his t–shirt.

Jake told Tony about the game that morning. Tony offered sympathy, but Jake didn’t think Tony really understood why baseball was so important to him. Tony was smart. He got good grades. And he had a lot of friends. Jake wanted to be good at something. He was pretty good at catching fish, but no one at school knew that, except Tony. A couple of months ago he thought baseball might be it, but so far he was striking out.

Soon the conversation turned to Shookall and his gang. You know they’ve been beating up elementary school kids on their way home from school? said Tony. They steal the kids’ radios, watches, and any cash they have in their pockets."

But Shookall’s an eighth grader! And he’s big. He must weigh two hundred pounds. Why don’t the cops put him away?

Cops can’t catch ’em because the little kids are too scared to say anything, and their parents want to protect ’em. So they shut up, and Shookall does what he wants.

Jake was about to ask Tony if Shookall was his real name, or if they just called him that because his blubber shook all over when he ran, but Tony’s attention was elsewhere at the moment.

Hey, Tony, I think you’ve hooked one, said Jake, as Tony’s line tightened and the end of his pole bent over. But a few seconds later Jake could see Tony’s excitement turn to exasperation as the hook was obviously stuck on the bottom. Tony pulled harder and harder until the end of his pole snapped.

Shoot! Tony said as he reeled in the loose end. Dad just got me a brand-new hook, sinker, and the best bait they had. Tony tied the end of the line to the reel and pulled it tight, then tossed it down next to his dad’s fishing gear.

Be cool, said his dad. That’s what fishing’s all about. If it was easy there’d be no challenge. Here, take my pole for a while.

Thanks, Dad, but I think I’ll let these fish live a little longer.

Turning to Jake, Tony brightened and said, Say, Jake, did you bring a ball or a Frisbee or a kite or something?

I lost my last hardball yesterday. How about digging a few crabs out of the rocks?

That’s a great idea. Let’s go over to that spot under the Golden Gate Bridge tower, with all sorts of rocks and oodles of crabs.

I don’t know if we can do that. Mom and Sam are about to—

It’ll just take a few minutes and we’ll get back before they even know we’re gone. Bet you can’t catch me!

Tony was off and running toward the bridge with Jake after him at full throttle. The boys were nearly out of earshot before Dana shouted, Hey! Where are you guys going? Sharing a conspiratorial glance, they were careful not to look back.

It took five minutes of hard running to make it to the tiny bit of sandy beach and rocky cliffs under the north tower of the Golden Gate Bridge.

The cliffs surrounding the beach consisted of dense black rock, marbled with veins of green, gray, tan, and white. In one place a room had been carved out of the rocks, and corroded chunks of rusty metal were cemented into the walls and floor. Someone had once told Jake and Tony that the rooms were bunkers for the big guns that ringed the bay during World War II, when people were afraid the Japanese navy was going to send submarines into San Francisco Bay. Jake remembered that he and Tony used to pretend that they were gunners protecting the coast, but the image faded quickly as he charged after Tony to meet the challenges down at the shore.

The crabs were perfectly camouflaged until they suddenly darted into view, sidestepping after some unseen meal. Jake and Tony were no match for the well-trained crabs, which scuttled into crevices just before they could be snared. Luckily for the crabs, there were no sticks around, and the boys were quickly distracted by other games like skipping rocks and climbing the face of the cliff that towered above them, rising nearly vertically from the beach.

At first, Tony climbed as far as he dared before backing down, step by careful step. Then Jake made his way slowly as Tony pointed out the best toeholds. He got a foot or two ahead of the highest point that Tony had reached when his foot slipped and he lurched against the cliff’s rocky face. He grabbed onto whatever his fingers touched to keep himself from falling twenty feet. That’s when he saw it.

What is that? Jake said when he caught his breath. There, just a few inches from his nose, was a layer of what appeared to be beautiful multicolored glass beads in a rather ordinary-looking tan rock. The rock was cracked, and Jake could see that it might be pried loose.

You okay? asked Tony, looking up with a concerned expression.

Yeah, I’m okay, but there is something really interesting here. I’m gonna pry this rock off the cliff. Can you hand me something with a sharp edge?

A couple of minutes later Tony scaled the lower part of the cliff wall and handed Jake a wedge–shaped rock that fit neatly in his hand.

Thanks, Tony! Stand back so the rock doesn’t hit you when I pry it loose.

It took Jake two or three minutes to free the rock with his left hand while he held on with his right hand and one foot. Finally, the rock came loose and tumbled down.

Jake backed carefully down the cliff, and he and Tony both looked closely at the rock that Jake had pried loose. It was a little larger than a football, mostly light tan with streaks of darker tan along the edges, suggesting alternating layers. But one of the layers was different from all the others. It shimmered in the sunlight.

"¡Que loco! What is that? That layer looks like it’s made of tiny glass beads! I can see black, orange, yellow."

I’ve got no idea. I’ve never seen a rock with such a weird layer before. It’s so different from the rest of the rock.

Do you think we could see more of the layer if we break off the layers on top? asked Tony.

I don’t know, said Jake, I’d hate to break it.

Here, let me try. I’ll be careful.

No! I found it, and if anyone’s gonna try and break more of it free it’s gonna be me!

Jake! shouted Dana. "Why didn’t you answer when I called? It’s okay for you and Tony to come out here, but I do like to know where you are."

Tearing his attention away from the rock for a moment, Jake realized his mom was not really mad. She and Sam had taken their time getting over here, and they both seemed in a pretty good mood today.

Oh, sorry, mom. Look what I found! He ran over to her, hauling the rock in both arms. It must have weighed five or six pounds. Sam and Dana were both as surprised as the boys.

Those little beads are probably obsidian, said Sam, who seemed to have an explanation for everything, no matter what the topic. You can see that they look sort of like glass. And most of them are black. There used to be a lot of volcanoes around here, and volcanoes produce this kind of glassy rock.

I dunno, said Tony. I saw a piece of obsidian in a museum, and it wasn’t anything like these beads. It was black, all right, but it was like a chunk of broken glass with sharp edges.

That’s because someone split it to see what it was like inside, said Sam. Hey, I’ve got some tools in the car. With a couple of good blows, we could break that layer open and get a good look. There may be bigger pieces of obsidian inside.

No way! said Jake. I found it and I’m gonna take it home just as it is. I don’t want to damage it. Who knows? It might be worth a lot of money.

Jake lugged the large rock back to the car like a football, nestled tightly under his arm. Jake and Tony agreed to get together at school the next day.

Sam gunned the engine, and Jake looked back at Tony through the rear window until he was out of sight. Soon they were driving back across the Golden Gate Bridge to their