to the elevator. The car lay crumpled
at the foot of the shaft like a discarded accordian. There was
something inside of it that Henry could not look at, something that
had once been a person, or perhaps several people, it was impossible
to tell now.

Feeling sick, Henry staggered toward the stairway. The steps were
still there, but so jumbled and piled back upon one another that it
was more like climbing the side of a mountain than mounting a
stairway. It was quiet in the huge chamber that had been the lobby of
the bank. It looked strangely cheerful with the sunlight shining
through the girders where the ceiling had fallen. The dappled sunlight
glinted across the silent lobby, and everywhere there were huddled
lumps of unpleasantness that made Henry sick as he tried not to look
at them.

"Mr. Carsville," he called. It was very quiet. Something had to be
done, of course. This was terrible, right in the middle of a Monday,
too. Mr. Carsville would know what to do. He called again, more
loudly, and his voice cracked hoarsely, "Mr. Carrrrsville!" And then
he saw an arm and shoulder extending out from under a huge fallen
block of marble ceiling. In the buttonhole was the white carnation Mr.
Carsville had worn to work that morning, and on the third finger of
that hand was a massive signet ring, also belonging to Mr. Carsville.
Numbly, Henry realized that the rest of Mr. Carsville was under that
block of marble.

Henry felt a pang of real sorrow. Mr. Carsville was gone, and so was
the rest of the staff--Mr. Wilkinson and Mr. Emory and Mr. Prithard,
and the same with Pete and Ralph and Jenkins and Hunter and Pat the
guard and Willie the doorman. There was no one to say what was to be
done about the Eastside Bank & Trust except Henry Bemis, and Henry
wasn't worried about the bank, there was something he wanted to do.

He climbed carefully over piles of fallen masonry. Once he stepped
down into something that crunched and squashed beneath his feet and he
set his teeth on edge to keep from retching. The street was not much
different from the inside, bright sunlight and so much concrete to
crawl over, but the unpleasantness was much, much worse. Everywhere
there were strange, motionless lumps that Henry could not look at.

Suddenly, he remembered Agnes. He should be trying to get to Agnes,
shouldn't he? He remembered a poster he had seen that said, "In event
of emergency do not use the telephone, your loved ones are as safe