'No one move!': The agonising silence as Venezuela rescuers listen for survivors

On a massive, unstable pile of concrete, iron, and dust, dozens of people are removing debris, hoping to find survivors or bodies. Suddenly, everything stops. Shouts erupt, people run and embrace each other. A rescuer thinks he hears a voice under the rubble. The hopeful news spreads quickly around the Mariola and Maribel Residences, near a beach in La Guaira that before Wednesday's earthquakes was full of sunbathers.

Of the two towers in the complex, only one is still standing, though it leans precariously and could collapse at any moment. The other appears to have been swallowed by the earth. Several rescuers run to the road and signal for engines to be turned off, cranes to stop, and drills to be silenced. The noise gradually fades, and the rescuers climb the rubble, kneel, and bow their heads. "Please, let us listen. Don't make noise! It seems like there's someone here," one calls out. The message – "Shhh… silence, please" – is repeated in a chain.

People hold their breath, one of the few ways they can help. There is hope that a survivor can be rescued. As recently as Saturday, 33 people were found alive, but optimism has been dwindling with each passing hour. "Say something so we can hear you, please," someone shouts desperately. "We are a rescue team!" These are the only words breaking a silence that has become almost sacred. For 10 minutes, time seems to stand still. No sound comes from the rubble, and the professionals declare a false alarm. Faces change dramatically.

Neighbours have alerted nearby professional teams. They arrive within minutes, but just as quickly leave again. However, Ronnie Navarro is not willing to give up. He arrived on Saturday from Puerto La Cruz, about 350 km away, to help pull his uncle from the rubble. Visibly exhausted, Ronnie looks at his companions who continue to remove debris. "There are bodies there, trapped. The relatives of those who lived there are helping because the government doesn't want to help," he says. "The authorities say nothing. They pass by, take a quick look, and leave. Since they don't have relatives there…"

There is still no news of his uncle. "They haven't pulled him out," he says, his voice breaking. The hope many felt just minutes earlier quickly gives way to frustration. And the frustration – here and throughout La Guaira – begins to turn into anger.

Zuly Marín, a 66-year-old biologist, has lived in the Mariola and Maribel Residences for more than a decade. She had been out shopping before the earthquakes struck and decided to visit her father instead of returning home, a decision that saved her life. "I lost my niece and my brother-in-law," she tells BBC Mundo. "There has been a delay in the rescue process. I think that if [the authorities] had arrived sooner, many people would have been saved."

Nearby, Belkys Valecillo watches as heavy machinery operates on the main road and in adjacent buildings. "My brother, my nephew, and my sister-in-law are on the first floor of that tower, buried," she says. She says she has been told that heavy machinery should only be used once search and rescue efforts have been called off. "It's only been four days," she says. Belkys's brother's building in the neighbouring Caribe complex has been completely destroyed. Yet three families are still digging to retrieve their loved ones. "They've already pulled out several bodies, and there are more," she says.

As night falls, energy briefly returns. On the pile of rubble where the Caribe residential complex once stood, people are moving quickly. Others run through the street asking for silence. A group of nurses approach. Everyone wants to help. A young man says he heard someone inside the rubble. "Water, water! Bring water for the rescuers!" someone shouts as a dozen men work quickly. But another false alarm is declared. Half an hour later, deep within the rubble, someone catches sight of two motionless bodies.