If it wasn’t supposed to be serious, it would have been funny. But as the cries of Paul Adams echoed through the hallways of Peninsula Grace Brethren Church early Saturday morning, few earthquake victims could keep a straight face.
Adams, a cadet with the Civil Air Patrol, crawled around a dim classroom on the second floor of the church’s worship center with a broken leg, a compound fracture of his right arm and a shard of glass sticking out of his head, searching for Larry, who was pronounced dead as rescuers carried him down to the lower floor.
“Don’t die on me Larry, you owe me 50 bucks!”
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