The 7.1-magnitude quake has killed almost 300 people, and rescuers were still digging through some of the 52 buildings that collapsed in Mexico City alone.
For a Mexico still reeling from the lives lost and devastating damage of a 7.1-magnitude quake, Friday the Navy rescue dog has become a source of pride and hope as the search for victims continues.
No new damage was immediately reported, but to keep workers safe, rescue efforts were suspended in areas affected by Tuesday's quake, Luis Felipe Puente, the head of Mexico's civil protection agency said. She said she tried to send WhatsApp and text messages to other people from under the building, as well as make phone calls and post on Facebook, but only the messages to her husband got through.
Using the information to pinpoint their location, rescuers freed Pacheco, 30, and the three other survivors shortly after 6 a.m. on Wednesday.Rescue operations were still underway on Friday at the building, where Pacheco says there were some 60 people on her floor alone at the time of the quake."I think there are people (alive) there because we had oxygen, air was coming in", she said. The quake killed at least 296 people.
Buildings swayed in Mexico City, where nerves are still raw from Tuesday's magnitude 7.1 temblor that has killed at least 305 across the region.
The number increased principally in Mexico City, where it went from 154 to 167 in the last few hours, whereas in the states of Morelos, Puebla, Mexico, Guerrero and Oaxaca, no change was registered in the number of victims.
Frida has spent most of her efforts at a school in southern Mexico City where 19 school children and six adults died, but 11 more children were rescued. "I feel afraid even when a auto passes by", said Dulce Bueno, who came Saturday morning with her husband and daughter to the hard-hit Condesa neighborhood.
Martin Mendez, a locksmith, said he was working in a building when it collapsed.
Diana Pacheco came back to get her cell phone before the natural disaster brought down the building.
Vicente Aparicio, 76, gazed at the building where he lived in southern Mexico City as his wife listened to an engineer explaining the damage it had suffered.
Despite the shrinking odds that more survivors would be pulled out from huge piles of debris, workers at many sites said they would not give up if there was the faintest chance at success.