Little lakes appeared in what used to be simple ravines and depressions. There were still oil and gas fires burning in scattered locations. There were also clearly visible cracks in the earth’s crust. Serious tremors were still shaking the earth—which, as an Angelino, Manuel knew was a forewarning of more serious quakes yet to come. To the north, it was obvious that the tectonic plates had not moved three feet or even thirty feet. They had moved three hundred yards and were apparently still moving farther apart. Water was flowing into the vast separation.

Although from that vantage point Manuel could not see the full extent of what had happened to his city, it was obvious that a huge part of coastal California was forever severed from the mainland.

As he swung the scope to the south, Manuel focused on what was left of the giant stacks marking the San Onofre nuclear power facility. Manuel thought, This thing is just south of San Clemente. It must have been directly in line with the place where the meteor hit. It’s probably starting meltdown. God has kept me and my family alive so far. Surely He wouldn’t now let us all be killed from radiation!

Cathy and the boys said they wanted a turn at the telescope, so Manuel stepped aside. What Cathy saw broke her heart. By nature she was tender and emotional, but throughout the ordeal she had been stoical. Numbed might be a better description. Now she wept uncontrollably. “Manolo,” she cried, “they are all gone . . . friends . . . neighbors . . . our relatives . . . the city. Everything’s gone! Why did God leave us alive to see all this? I can’t stand it any more, Manolo! I can’t take any more.”

Manuel, who had just caught a glimpse of a slow, lingering death through nuclear radiation, took his wife in his arms. “Cathy, I told you that we were going to make it, and we are. I know it’s horrible, but we’ve got to live. These boys need us. Please don’t fall apart on me now.”

Once again, the couple drew their sons into a circle with their arms around one another. Once again, Manuel began to pray. “Padre Celestial,” he began, “we did not die. You chose to let us live. Now, Father, please send Your angel and take us to safety. . . .”

No sooner had the word “Amen” passed his lips than Manuel heard the first faint sounds of a motor in the distance. He looked up but saw nothing. Yet as the sound drew steadily closer, he knew that they were not alone. Finally he saw it. A plane was coming from the east. But in this vast mountain range, he wondered, would anyone see them there? Suddenly he had an idea.

He tugged the large sheets of plastic out of their crude trenches, which had now largely collapsed, and began spreading them out on the ground in the clearing.