Into the Firestorm (11 page)

A
CROSS
V
AN
N
ESS

Boom!
The sounds of dynamite rang in their ears, closer and closer.

“The air feels so hot,” Annie complained once. But mostly she was silent and sulky.

It was hard to walk. The street was crowded with soldiers, firemen, and people fleeing their homes. Nick was worried someone would push past Mrs. Sheridan and cause her more pain. Annie stayed by her mother’s other side now, as far away from Nick as she could get.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mrs. Sheridan gasped as she paused to rest on a corner. She held one hand over her waist. “I…I simply can’t go any faster.”

“The baby, Mama?” Annie whispered.

“No, Annie. Not quite yet. But I’m nearly done in, I’m afraid,” her mother replied. She looked at Nick. “How much farther?”

“I don’t really know. But we’ve been walking so long, I think we must be close to Van Ness.”

Nick hoped he was right. The truth was, he felt like he was in a dream, running through a dark, smoky haze. No matter how hard he tried, he could move only inches at a time. It was like trying to run on the bottom of a pond.

A family of three passed them. The man dragged a trunk, and his wife carried two enormous paintings in gilded frames. Beside them was a little boy holding a squirmy puppy in his arms.

“Oh, there’s that awful sound again of trunks scraping along the streets. I believe I heard it all night long, or perhaps it was just my dreams,” Annie’s mother exclaimed. “Did you hear it, Annie?”

Annie shook her head. She wasn’t thinking about trunks. She had been watching the boy with the puppy.

Annie poked her head around her mother and stared across at Nick with accusing eyes. He wanted to yell at her to leave him alone.

“This must be Van Ness.”

They had reached a wide street. Across it, on the west side, crowds of people stood, carrying baskets, suitcases, and satchels. Nick saw two men trying to push a piano down the street.

“We should be safe here for a little while, at least. You can rest on the stone steps of that building, Mrs. Sheridan.” Nick pointed. Mrs. Sheridan lowered herself slowly onto the steps.

“I don’t see any tents here,” said Annie, pouting. “I thought we were going to the park.”

A woman beside them in a white blouse and dark blue skirt leaned over. “Golden Gate Park is still blocks away, dearie.”

Annie’s mother sighed and dropped her face in her hands.

The woman reached over and patted Mrs. Sheridan on her shoulder. “There, there. You look all done in. I was just about to open my basket and have some bread and cheese. There’s enough for you and your children.”

“He’s not my brother,” Annie said under her breath, but loud enough for Nick to hear.

Nick bit his tongue. Jumping to his feet, he pulled the last two oranges out of his pockets. He handed them to Mrs. Sheridan. “Here, eat these, too. I’ll look around and see what I can find out.”

Before long, Nick was back. “We can’t stay here. The dynamite is making the fire worse in some places,” he told Mrs. Sheridan. “Folks are afraid that the fire will leap Van Ness and begin burning this side of the street.”

“So we’re not safe even now?”

Nick shook his head. “I heard someone say the firemen may try to run a hose to the bay all the way along Van Ness Avenue to Sacramento Street. That’s only one block away from here. They say they have to stop it now or the whole western part of the city will burn.”

For a minute Nick thought she would cry. But then Annie’s mother held out her hand. “Please help me up, then, Nicholas. This fire has chased us all day, but we can’t give up now. Annie, are you ready?”

Annie looked back toward where they had come from. Her lips were pressed close together. The bump on her forehead had shrunk, but it looked as red as ever.

Nick could almost see what she was thinking. Every step took them farther away from Shake and from the house where Annie hoped her father would come looking for her.

“Now, Annie,” her mother commanded.

We don’t have a choice,
Nick thought.
The fire won’t give us one.

T
HURSDAY
N
IGHT

The rest of the day passed in a blur. It was almost dark when they reached Golden Gate Park. Long rows of white tents already dotted the open spaces.

They stood in line for rations, and then Nick found a Red Cross volunteer, who directed them to a large tent where a makeshift hospital had been set up.

“Oh, I am so thankful to be here. Can my daughter stay with me?” Annie’s mother asked the nurse as she sank down gratefully on a cot.

“Is your husband not with you?”

“My father is coming later,” Annie put in before Mrs. Sheridan could answer.

“Well, then, both your children can stay if you like, if they don’t mind blankets on the ground,” the nurse said.

Annie shot Nick a glance but clamped her lips together and kept silent.

Long after Annie and her mother had fallen asleep, Nick lay on his blanket tossing and turning. He should have been exhausted, but sleep wouldn’t come.

It had been dark for hours when Nick reached for his shoes and, holding them in one hand, tiptoed softly between the rows of cots. Outside the tent, he sat on the ground to put them on.

He heard a rustle behind him.

“What are you doing?”

“Go back to sleep, Annie.” Nick tied his other shoe.

She hissed softly, “You’re going to find Shake, aren’t you?”

Nick got to his feet and stood looking at her silently.

“It’s not safe,” she whispered.

“I would have gone back this morning if I could have.”

Annie hung her head. “I know. Nick…I’m sorry…about the inkwells. And for being mean.”

“That’s not why I’m going.” Nick pulled his cap down low. “He was
my
responsibility. I promised Mr. Pat I’d take care of him. Shake doesn’t understand what’s happening. He misses Mr. Pat; he just wanted to go home. Besides, Shake…”

He faltered.

“I love Shake, too,” Annie said after a minute. She peered up at him. “Well, since you
will
go, can I come?”

“No, you can’t. What would your mama do then?”

“But…but we won’t ever see you again. You don’t care about us.” Annie sniffled. “Especially after today.”

Nick sighed. They stood in the darkness.

At last he said, “That’s not true, Annie. We’re friends, no matter what. I…I don’t have many friends.”

Annie pulled at one of her braids. “I don’t, either. Just Mama and Daddy. And I don’t even know if he…”

Annie turned her face up at him. “How will I know?”

“Know what?”

“Know that you’ll come back and find us?”

“Oh, you want a guarantee.” Nick thought a minute. He reached into his pocket and drew out his other coin.

“Keep this for me a little while, will you, Annie Sheridan?” He handed it to her. “I’ll come back and get it.”

“What is it?”

Nick let out his breath. “It looks just like any other coin, but it’s not. It’s special. It’s something I remember my gran by.”

“Like the picture of my father.” Annie closed her fist tight around it. “I’ll keep it safe till you come back.”

Nick took a few steps, then turned. “Do you still fly to the North Star to help your father find his way?”

Annie nodded wordlessly.

“Well, I’d sure like it if you did that for me tonight, Annie of the North Star.”

For the first time, Annie smiled. “I will. I can do that.”

Nick made good time on the streets between Golden Gate Park and Van Ness Avenue. But he knew the hardest part lay ahead. Somehow, he would have to get back to Jackson Street. It would have been difficult in daylight, but the darkened city seemed like an eerie, smoky battlefield.

“Did the fire jump Van Ness?” Nick asked the first man he met.

“In a few places,” came the answer. “But the firemen made their stand there. Put a hose all the way down Van Ness to the bay. And they beat it down with wet blankets, too. Thank goodness they’ve stopped it.”

Nick’s spirits lifted. “So the fire is completely out?”

“Oh, no! Not everywhere, at least. There are still fires blazing on the other side of Van Ness.” The man turned and pointed back toward Market Street. “From what I hear, every time the wind blows, the fire turns back on itself and destroys blocks folks thought had been spared.”

Nick thanked him and set off again. At least Annie and her mother would have nothing to worry about now. Golden Gate Park would be safe. But the man’s news worried him, too. The fire was not yet out. And places that had been safe, like Jackson Street, might still be in danger.

At every step, Nick imagined Shakespeare making his way back, snaking around the paths of the fire, trembling when the dynamite exploded. One frightened dog, determined to go home. But what if he hadn’t been able to make it?

Nick scurried faster. This journey seemed to be taking a long time—too long. It wasn’t just avoiding the horrible fingers of flame. He had to pick his way over piles of rubble and skirt deep fissures that had buckled the cobblestones. Some streets were completely impassable. Firemen had blockaded others. Explosions rang out, and Nick thought of his grandfather on the battlefield. Maybe, he thought, it had felt a little like this.

And then there were the soldiers. In a strange way, the soldiers with their long rifles frightened Nick most of all. He swallowed hard. If the soldiers found him, they wouldn’t let him near Jackson Street. He had to stay out of their way. He didn’t want to think what they’d do if they thought he was a looter.

Nick quickened his steps and kept on.

It seemed hours since he’d left Annie. It must be after midnight—already Friday. Wednesday, Thursday, and now Friday. Three days of destruction and fire. More than anything, he wished it would end.

He was getting closer. Turning a corner, Nick found himself alone on a deserted street, surrounded by the skeletal ruins of gutted buildings. The city had become a strange, menacing place, unlike anywhere he’d ever been. The smoldering beams and walls emitted odd crackling noises. Ashes floated through the air. He could feel waves of heat from the force of the flames.

Crack!
Nick jumped. One wall, all that was left of a blackened one-story house, suddenly tumbled onto the sidewalk behind him.

I’m not sure I can do this,
Nick thought with a shiver.

And then he heard footsteps.

For a moment, Nick panicked. He stood frozen, unable to move. Where could he hide?

There. An alley. Nick raced into a narrow street and crouched down behind a pile of timber and bricks. He tried not to breathe. At least he had heard the footsteps first. He was getting back to being Nick the Invisible—instead of being caught off guard by big lumbering policemen like Bushy Brows.

Nick peered through the dark haze. The two approaching men weren’t soldiers after all. Instead two police officers passed, carrying what looked like a corpse.