talking—the sound of his voice flow-
ing into her brain like a glorious
symphony.
Salyers indicated to the man that she
didn’t know what had happened. “The
building blew up,” he said. “We don’t
know why, but we’re checking it out.”
By this time, others had crawled into
the cramped, cavelike area to remove
the rubble piece by piece. At every mo-
ment, someone held Salyers’s hand.
Then, as her hope rose, the man
holding her hand spoke gently: “Pris-
cilla, we’re going to have to leave now.
We’ll be back, but we have to go get
a tool.” What he did not say was that
rescuers were being evacuated be-
cause of a bomb threat.
She gripped the man’s hand with all
her might and found new breath as she
begged him not to leave, wondering
why they all had to go. She wouldn’t re-
lease the man’s hand. She felt him gen-
tly pry her fingers loose. “I’m so sorry,”
he said, his voice cracking. “We don’t
have any choice. We’ll be back. I prom-
ise.” Then they were gone, and Salyers
was alone in the terrible silence.
Her first reaction was a mixture of
terror and anger. Because of the rub-
ble that had been removed, her body
was not as tightly constricted, though
her head was still in a viselike grip.
As she writhed, she realized there
was something poking her in the
stomach. She worked her hand around
so that she could feel the protrusion.
It was a hand—a man’s hand, judging
by its size. Her heart leaped, thinkingit was her colleague Paul Ice and that
perhaps he was in the same situation.
She squeezed the hand, but it was cold
and unresponsive. For the first time,
she began to weep.
Then, out of nowhere, a loud voice
boomed, “Hey, over here!” The scene
was just like the first time—though the
voices were different. A man took her
hand, and she squeezed back.
“Get me out of here,” she pleaded.
Then she closed her eyes and waited
and prayed. The men explained each
step they took, the most danger-
ous one being to remove a massive
metal-and-concrete column virtually
resting on her head. It was a miracle
that it had not slipped a single centi-
meter more. Above her were the awful
sounds of circular saws and pneumatic
tools. The rescuers worked fast, know-
ing that at any instant the groaning
building might shift at this location.
Salyers’s legs and body were freed
first, and then both arms. The rescu-
ers told her the hardest part would be
last—getting her tightly pinned head
free by trying to lift the monstrous
column crushing her and, at the same
moment, whisking her out from under
it. When she was dragged free, terrible
pain exploded in her—she had broken
ribs, a collapsed lung, and countless
nasty puncture wounds all over her
body. Four hours and 15 minutes had
passed since the bomb exploded. She
was so shaken, she hardly heard the
cheers from rescuers and bystanders
as she was carried from the rubble.Reader’s Digest
98 april 2020