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ran
lightly up the stairs.
    Los Angeles, California
    The devastation was more than her mind could
comprehend. How could any mind hold onto the pictures she saw that first week?
After shutting away the grief she felt about her parents' deaths, Maria had to
think of the images as pictures, not totally real. Or else lose her sanity.
Bodies everywhere. There was no place to put them all. Streets filled with
people still in shock, stepping over debris from flattened buildings. Maria's
throat was raw from the lingering smoke that was a film over every scene. Fires
continued to burn out of control in downtown L.A.; she and Zack had not been able
to approach the incandescent blaze of high-rise destruction.
    Walking to the jeep, Maria brushed dirt and dust
from her blue jeans and navy T-shirt. "Why am I doing this?" she thought. "There
is no way to stay clean in this mess." But she knew why--the same reason she
brushed her shoulder-length hair one hundred strokes every night, even in the
middle of a disaster--her mom. Consuela Santiago had taught Maria to pay
attention to her appearance, not for vanity's sake, but because she would have
to look good to make it in the world. Maria was a beautiful child and had grown
into an exotic-looking woman, but Consuela knew her Mexican heritage would be a
detriment to achieving true success, particularly in broadcasting. Maria had
run into prejudice on her way up the career ladder, and her mother's emphasis
on speaking English without an accent and keeping an impeccable appearance made
a difference.
    "Well, Mom," Maria thought, "I wonder how you'd
think I'm doing now...covered in dust and soot and my hiking boots are stained
with blood. Not exactly the intrepid glamour-girl-reporter image we used to
joke about on my visits home." For a moment, the sudden stab of grief that hit
her upon thinking of her mother caused Maria to stumble in mid-stride. "Oh God,"
she said aloud, "how am I going to get along without you?" Then she seemed to
hear her father's voice saying, "You can do it, honey, you must do it. We're
always with you," just like he had said all through the years. Smoothing back
the wisps of hair that had escaped from her tortoiseshell barrette, Maria
spotted Zack in front of a pancaked apartment building and walked steadily
toward him, already preparing interview questions in her mind.
    Cape Fair, Missouri
    "Haaarrrry!" called Samantha. "Come here, Harry!"
Where was he hiding this time? "I'm not playing anymore, you mean, old dog,"
Samantha said loudly, and then giggled softly to herself. She knew Harry wasn't
mean or old. He was probably the best, most good dog there ever was anywhere
ever, she thought. But teasing and telling jokes was her latest discovery.
Suddenly, Harry burst out of the large honeysuckle bush at the edge of the
backyard and raced up to her. Sam stood her ground as Harry ran full-tilt right
up to her and skidded to a stop. Sam hugged him and giggled all over again.
    "You're not a mean old dog. You are the most
beautiful dog in the world and you smell like flowers!"
    Harry grinned up at the laughing child and
wagged his tail. He was so excited Sam was finally outdoors to play with him
again. He kept sniffing her breath and skin as she hugged him and was relieved
to smell only happy, sweaty child smells, no more sickness.
    "Come on, let's race back to the house. I'm
hungryyy!" Sam said, and then whirled around and took off running for the
house. Harry loped next to her, slowing his pace to stay even with the child.
He saw she couldn't run as fast as before the sickness, but she was already
faster today than yesterday. As they reached the back door, Sam was out of
breath, but still standing, definitely an improvement over the first day she
tried to run and collapsed in a heap halfway across the yard.
    Brushing grass and dirt from her denim jeans and
favorite Minnie Mouse T-shirt, Samantha said, "Come on, boy, let's go see old
Mom and beg for ice cream." Harry barked yes