Night quake

This is my own original story, written based on conversations with friends who experienced the trauma of living through an earthquake and its aftershocks. Trigger warning: This is a traumatic story.

“Baba, what’s happening?”

I was awoken by the cry of my 10 year old son, I could feel our bed moving and hear the rattling of things throughout our apartment. We lived on the 5th floor of a six story apartment building and I always feared this day would come.

“Tolga, we must get out of the building immediately. Can you get your sister?”

My wife was awake now and I could hear her wail in fear as we all tried to move about the room and steady ourselves by grabbing whatever we could get ahold of. Tolga returned with his 6 year old sister, Selma and we started moving towards the door.

“My things, I must get my jewelry,” my wife said.

“Sevinc, there’s no time. We have to get out of the building.” The quake was subsiding, but that didn’t make it safe. The initial force could have severely damaged the structure and an aftershock could come at any time bringing the whole thing down.

I swept up my daughter and led our family out the door and to the stairwell. The power was out and I wished I would have grabbed my phone or a flashlight, but we joined the rush of neighbors who were all making their way down and out.

All around us were cries of fear as a light aftershock shook the building. I said a prayer that it would pass quickly as we stumbled down the stairs. Five flights of stairs in the darkness took far too long and it was a great relief when I finally saw the light coming in from the glass doors of the entryway.

We were surrounded by our neighbors and could see the other buildings on our street had emptied out as well. I knew we would need to remain outside in the cold of winter until we could be certain the structure was safe to re-enter.

“Canim, where’s Tolga?” My wife asked.

I frantically looked around, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. Desperately, I knelt in front of Selma to see if she knew anything.

“Tatlim, where is your brother? Did you see him?”

She looked afraid to speak, but after my encouragement and a brief hug she whispered, “He went back to get Mert.”

Mert was her favorite stuffed animal. I stood back up to see if he would emerge, but when the last of our neighbors came out to the street away from the building, I knew what I had to do.

Turning to my wife, I said, “Stay with Selma. I need to get Tolga.”

A few of my neighbors tried to grab me as I raced towards the entrance, but I shook them off. I hadn’t thought to ask anyone for a light and I moved up the stairs as quickly as possible, tracing my hand along the wall to find my way. By the second floor it was impossible to see anything and I imagined how terrified Tolga might be coming this way alone.

“Tolga! I’m coming! Call out if you can hear me!” But there was no response even though I continued to call to him at every turn of the stairs.

Finally, I reached our door and was glad to see it was still open. Our keys were forgotten in the rush like everything else. Entering the apartment, I called to him again, but it wasn’t until I neared the end of the hall that I heard his voice.

“Baba! Help!”

When I tried to enter the children’s room, I saw the problem. One of the wardrobes had toppled over and was holding the door shut. Pushing with all my might, I was able to get it open, but as I entered the room to grab my son, another great shaking began.

The exit to the stairwell was all the way on the other side of the apartment, but I remembered that the balcony between our bedrooms opened up onto the fire escape. It would be faster and we would be able to see where we were going, unlike the dark stairwell.

“This way, my son.”

I led him to the balcony and opened the latch that led to the fire escape. It was a long metal, cage-like structure that was sealed to prevent thieves from using it. The shaking continued as I helped Tolga to climb onto the stairs. As we walked down, I held one hand on my boy and the other on the metal railing to steady us on the way down.

Suddenly, across the street a building fell. Screams filled the night air as the people on the street watched it happen. I prayed no one was left inside. We had to get away from this building before the same thing happened.

We were almost to the ground, when I remembered why this might have been the wrong idea. Surely, it won’t be. But when we reached the bottom, I found the door locked with a padlock, preventing any thieves from entering, but also trapping us in this cage.

I started to call out when another aftershock hit, this one the biggest yet. Another building down the street fell and I felt rubble from above pelting us from our own building. I rattled the door, but it would not open. In the end, I was out of options. I wrapped my boy up tight, covering his body with my own and prayed to God for salvation as the rubble continued to fall.

Please remember the people of Turkey and Syria and give through appropriate channels.