Previously…
– Sophie’s “Shannon” persona set a trap for Sabrina.
– Spencer visited Sonja in prison, desperate to understand more about Loretta’s death.
– Rosie went to see Brent about his job offer but found only Molly at home.
– As Tempest waited for Samantha at Cassie’s Coffee House, an earthquake struck King’s Bay!

A casual observer would notice Sophie Fisher lounging in one of the Adirondack chairs in the backyard of her father’s home, her legs stretched comfortably in front of her. What that observer would not know is that the young woman isn’t Sophie at all — at least not mentally or emotionally.

Shannon feels the late morning sun warming her face as she basks in the brilliance of her own plan.

It won’t be long now. Sabrina Gage will return home from the store, probably humming some stupid song to herself like she always does. Shannon will wander into the house just in time to notice the faint smell of gas.

“Sabrina,” she’ll say nervously. “What’s that smell? Did you leave the stove on?”

She smiles to herself at the concern that she’ll project into her voice. Sabrina will insist that of course she hadn’t. Shannon will gently point out the burner. Sabrina’s certainly will crumble, leaving her to wonder if she had been distracted or if she really had forgotten. Maybe this wasn’t the first time. One more reason not to trust her own mind.

Shannon grins, folding her hands behind her head. It really is the little things.

The first tremor is so subtle that she mistakes it for a truck rumbling down the street. The chair vibrates beneath her. A heartbeat later, the ground lurches hard enough to throw her forward.

“What the–“

The deck shudders violently. The patio table skids several inches across the boards with a deafening scrape. Flowerpots topple from their stands, exploding against the deck. Somewhere inside the house, glass shatters.

Shannon dives from the chair, scrambling beneath the patio table as the world convulses around her. She clamps both hands over the back of her neck and squeezes her eyes shut as another violent jolt ripples through the yard.

The shaking seems to last forever.

Then… nothing. The silence is almost louder. She remains frozen beneath the table, breathing hard, and then slowly opens her eyes.

Sophie blinks in confusion. Her heartbeat pounds in her ears. She stares blankly at the underside of the patio table above her head, then crawls out onto the deck on trembling hands.

“What…?”

She looks around the backyard as if seeing it for the first time. The overturned pots… the cracked planter… the chair lying on its side… Faint memories of the earthquake come back to her in pieces.

“How did I get out here?” she asks herself, her breathing quickening. She glances toward the house.

“Sophie!”

She looks over to see the neighbor, Mrs. Hanley, leaning over the fence.

“Are you okay?” the older woman asks.

“I… I think so.”

“I saw that your dad and Sabrina’s cars are both gone.”

Sophie searches her memory, but the answer doesn’t come. Her dad must be at work… as for Sabrina, she has no idea…

“They must both be out,” she says.

“Then don’t stay over there by yourself. Come sit with us until somebody gets home.”

The kind neighbor motions for Sophie to come to her house. Unsure what else to do, the teenager finds herself moving toward the gate to let herself out of the backyard.

—–

Lucy Champlain carefully backs her car out of the parking space. She checks her mirror and reverses in order to leave Landon Esco enough room to pull his own car out of the frontmost of their two tandem parking spaces; her tires squeak on the polished concrete floor as she does so. The sound always sets her on edge, even though she logically understands what it is.

She waits while Landon backs out and pulls forward, clearing the way for Lucy to re-park her own vehicle. She maneuvers it between the white lines painted on the floor of the subterranean parking garage. When she shuts off her engine and hops out of the car, Landon is still idling nearby.

“Thank you,” he calls out the open window of his car. “You’re a life-saver.”

She shrugs, though a hint of blush creeps into her cheeks. “It’s nothing.”

Landon raises a fist. “Someday, we will be free of the scourge of tandem parking!”

Lucy laughs, but before she can respond, the ground moves. At first, neither of them seems to understand what they are feeling. Then the world seems to tilt.

“Get under something!” Landon shouts at her.

She looks around, perplexed, as the concrete beneath them jerks suddenly. Her mind races through options: does she try and get back into her car? Get under the car? There aren’t many other things to duck beneath.

Then a crack echoes overhead.

They both look up as the earth continues to roll and rock.

Something heavy crashes down from the overhang, striking the ground beneath them.

“Lucy!” Landon cries.

He throws open the car door. The shaking goes on all around him, but all he can see is the pile of broken wood and plaster where Lucy was standing moments ago.

“I’m here!” comes her muffled voice.

Landon’s eyes scan the area, relieved to hear her, sure that he will spot her in an instant — but he can’t place where here is.

Another violent tremor runs through the ground.

“Help me!” Lucy yells. “I– I can’t–“

Landon springs to unsteady feet, catching himself against the side of his car.

“I’ll get you out,” he says, desperate hands clawing for the phone in the pocket of his shorts. “I promise.”

The shaking finally begins to fade as he dials 911. But the only response he receives is a blaring dial tone. He lowers the phone, staring in terror at the pile of materials pinning Lucy to the ground.

At the hospital, the elevator doors slide shut with a soft chime.

Isaac Banks shifts Noelle onto his hip as Sienna Ridley presses the button for the lobby.

“I wanted to press them,” Noelle pouts.

“Honey, if you press them, we have to stop at all the floors,” Sienna says, laughing with amusement.

The little girl lets out a grunt of annoyance as the elevator begins its slow descent.

“I’ll take you for a ride in an elevator at my building soon,” Isaac promises her. “You can press all the buttons you want.”

“I’m sure your neighbors will love that,” Sienna says.

He shrugs. “They’ll be more forgiving than emergency room staff.”

“Daddy,” Noelle asks, lowering her stuffed rabbit so that it dangles precariously from her hand, “when are we going to the beach?”

Isaac glances toward Sienna.

“We’re supposed to leave next Friday,” he says.

Sienna forces a smile. “We’ll see.”

Isaac’s expression changes, but he remains mum.

Sienna avoids his eyes as she mutters, “I’m trying to be okay with it.”

“Would you feel better if it was just me and Noelle without Diane?” he presses.

“I didn’t say that.”

Then the elevator jolts. Hard. The lights flicker. Noelle cries out.

“What was–” Sienna begins, but she is interrupted by the floor seeming to drop beneath them before slamming into place.

“Honey? Are you okay?” Sienna asks, instinctively reaching for Noelle, who is crying in Isaac’s arms.

The entire cab begins to shake violently. Metal screams around them. The lights blink out, then on again. Then they go out once more.

The elevator lurches to a sudden, sickening stop. Sienna takes the crying child from Isaac’s arms.

Isaac pulls out his cell phone and uses the flashlight to find the emergency button on the elevator’s panel. But there is nothing. He tries again. Nothing.

“Isaac,” Sienna says breathlessly, “are we…?”

The iPhone flashlight illuminates Sienna and Noelle, casting a broad shadow on the wall behind them.

“We’re stuck,” Isaac says as he looks to the seam between the doors.

—–

At the Taylor home, Molly Taylor glances toward the front window for what has to be the fourth time in as many minutes.

“He should be back any minute.”

Rosie Jimenez shifts uncomfortably on the loveseat across from her, one hand absently resting on the underside of her very pregnant belly.

“I’m sure camp drop-off takes longer than he thought,” she says. “I remember being shocked at how a quick errand with Gabrielle could balloon into an hourlong ordeal.”

“You’re telling me.” Molly looks at her with something akin to relief, seemingly grateful for the conversational runway. “Kids seem to have an instinct for stretching things out when we absolutely don’t have the time for it. Imagine doing that with twins.”

Rosie chuckles. “I can’t even.”

Just as they are settling into this comfortable rhythm, the china cabinet rattles. Both women turn sharply toward it. A single teacup chatters against its saucer.

Molly’s eyes widen. “What was–“

The entire house seems to quiver, and then the floor bucks beneath them.

Rosie grabs the arm of the loveseat as Molly falls forward, catching herself against the coffee table.

Pictures swing wildly on the walls. Somewhere upstairs, something heavy crashes as the shaking continues. It seems to come from everywhere at once.

“Get down,” Rosie shouts, and she lowers herself onto her hands and knees and shuffles under the coffee table. She reaches out for Molly, who manages to do the same.

They remain like that, each gripping a leg of the table, until the quaking ends. The two women share a look, unsure that it is actually over, but the silence and stillness stretch on.

“Are you okay?” Molly asks, still trying to catch her breath.

Rosie nods automatically. “Think so. Yeah.”

She starts to pull herself to her feet — then freezes.

Molly, rising to uncertain feet of her own, notices. “What’s wrong?”

Rosie’s eyes slowly drift downward. A dark patch spreads across the front of her maternity dress before dripping quietly onto the carpet.

“Oh my god,” Molly says as their eyes meet again.

“Did my water just break?” Rosie asks in terror.

—–

Spencer Ragan sits across the metal interview table from Sonja Kahele. The cinderblock room is as sterile as ever, and the handcuff around Sonja’s wrist is secured to a steel ring bolted to the table. But neither of them is focused on that right now. The low rumble that just went through the room has their full attention. The guard standing in the corner straightens up in response to it.

“What was that?” Sonja asks.

Before either man can answer, the overhead light flickers. Then another jolt hits. Harder. The table rattles. All three individuals instinctively reach out for something solid, and the

All three of them instinctively grab for something solid as the walls begin to shake.

“Earthquake!” the guard shouts.

A set of ceiling tiles explode downward in a plume of dust and dirt. Spencer dives beneath the table.

“Sonja!”

She tries to follow — but the handcuffs snap taut. The chain yanks her sideways, and a sickening pop is audible even over the cacophonous sounds of the quake. Sonja lets out a scream.

She crumples against the side of the table, clutching instinctively at her shoulder as agony tears through her arm.

The guard starts toward them, but a heavy light fixture crashes from the ceiling and strikes him squarely across the back. He collapses without a sound.

“Jesus,” Spencer says with horror.

The room continues to convulse. Dust pours from fresh cracks in the ceiling, and metals groans from somewhere inside the walls. Spencer crawls toward Sonja beneath the table.

“Don’t move!” he says.

“I wasn’t planning to!” she cries through gritted teeth.

One more violent jolt… and then silence. Dust hangs thick in the stale air. Spencer slowly emerges from beneath the table, coughing.

“Officer?”

There is no response. He crosses the room carefully, as if expecting it to start shaking again, and kneels beside the felled guard. Using his forefingers, he locates a pulse. It’s weak, but it’s there.

He exhales, then moves to the door. He tries the handle. Nothing. Then he throws his weight against it, shoulder-first. The door barely budges.

“There’s something blocking it on the other side,” he says, as Sonja groans with pain again.

Only now does he notice the angle of her arm.

“It’s dislocated,” she says even through the waves of pain radiating across her face. She grasps the injured arm with the opposite hand, and the handcuffs catch with a metallic click.

Both of them stop. For a moment, neither says a word. The chain hangs taut between Sonja’s wrist and that steel ring on the table.

Spencer looks from the cuff… to the blocked door… and finally back to Sonja.

“We’re trapped.”

—–

Samantha Fisher tightens her grip on the steering wheel as she turns onto Owens Street. Her phone rests on the passenger seat. Her call with Tempest Banks ended abruptly several minutes earlier, right in the middle of the earthquake. Samantha tried calling back twice, but neither attempt had gone through. She finally gave up, knowing that she would be to Cassie’s in a few minutes, anyway — and, thankfully, the roads have been navigable.

Traffic slows to a crawl as she rounds that final corner. Several vehicles have stopped altogether. A pickup truck sits crookedly in the middle of the street, its driver standing outside with both hands on his head.

Samantha’s stomach tightens. She eases past the backed-up traffic–

–and then she sees it.

Cassie’s. The front corner of the coffee house has partially collapsed onto itself. Bricks and splintered beams spill across the sidewalk beneath a cloud of lingering dust. One of the front windows has completely blown out.

“No…”

She slams the car into park before it has fully stopped moving and throws open the driver’s door.

Her eyes search desperately for movement. For anything. For Tempest.

“Tempest?”

The name barely leaves her lips. Then she runs. In the distance, sirens scream into the sky.

END OF EPISODE 1311

Is Tempest somewhere amidst the rubble?
Will Rosie receive medical attention in time?
What is going to happen with Shannon’s trap?
Discuss all the action in the comments below!

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