City of Ash

by Megan Chance

  I stared at everyone I passed, looking for someone familiar, and when they looked back at me, I saw my desperation reflected on their faces, the pause, the stare, trying to look through soot and dirt, then the disappointment, the sigh, the moving on. Twice someone came up to me holding a photograph. “Have you seen this woman?”

  “Have you seen this boy?” and I shook my head both times and asked, “Have you seen any of the actors from the Regal Theater?” and got confused looks and sorrowful no’s. I had no way to even ask about Sebastian, because what would I say? Have you seen the playwright from the Regal? when no one even knew there was a playwright, much less what the hell he looked like. I would have given almost anything for one of our posters to show people, to be able to point to Jack or Aloys or anyone else. In the pictures, we were all in costume as characters, but it would be easier than what I did now, trying to describe an elaborate waxed mustache, a Vandyke beard, a handsome blond.… There was nothing to say that made them different from anyone else. But the only paper I saw was the proclamation from Mayor Moran that was nailed to every charred telegraph pole:

  ALL PERSONS found on the streets of this city after eight o’clock without the countersign will be arrested and imprisoned. All persons found stealing property or otherwise violating the laws will be promptly arrested and if resisting arrest will be summarily dealt with.

  ALL SALOONS in this city are hereby ordered to close and remain closed until further order, under penalty of a forfeiture of their licenses and arrest. No person will be allowed to sell or dispose of any liquor until further orders, and any person doing so will be immediately arrested and imprisoned.

  OFFICERS AND MEMBERS of the militia and all policemen are strictly enjoined to enforce the foregoing orders.

  At least there wouldn’t be drunks making everything worse, which I supposed was a good thing, though it seemed to me there would be plenty of people needing the solace of a good drink. There were soldiers everywhere, watching, waiting.

  The landmarks I did recognize were so ruined I couldn’t quite countenance the fact that they had once belonged to anything I knew. What brick buildings remained were gutted: only brick walls and arched doorways were left of the Post Building, of a nearby bank there was nothing but a shell and a safe and a man guarding it, and that became a familiar sight too, big black boxes sitting in the middle of nothing, with men angling their chairs back against them as if they were sitting on a porch enjoying the morning sun.

  I’d hoped to find Lucius or someone else near the ruins of the Regal, but there was only Mr. Hesse, who owned the saloon on the corner, spraying the smoking ashes of his building with a hose hooked to a fire hydrant. There was plenty of water now, it seemed. When I went up to him, he stared at me for a moment and then said, “Mrs. Wilkes,” in that dead tone I was beginning to hear too often. It brought my worry into a lump in my throat, and I said, “Have you seen Mr. Greene? Or … or anyone else?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet,” and then, “They’ll be fine, Mrs. Wilkes,” but it was a hollow platitude and I didn’t believe him, and that lump just stayed as I walked on, my eyes stinging as I tried to peer through the smoke. The horsecar tracks were twisted and melted as if some giant had squeezed and knotted them in his hand and then thrown them down again. There was nothing left of the docks but for hundreds of pier logs, only a few still with crossbeams, blackened and sticking out of the water like broken teeth. The train tracks crisscrossing them sagged and warped, and great cogs lay about the mess of wood and metal, still too hot to go near.

  I’d been walking for an hour before I saw the tent. Some business had sprayed down the ashes and erected canvas on the gritty mud, and I stopped, startled, because in spite of the fact that it was just a tent, it looked so damn normal. A big sign out front, written on a board burned on one side, announced it to be a hardware store, and it was crowded, people going in and out as if everyone in the city had been drawn to it, and I felt that draw too, because it was such an everyday thing to do when you felt so helpless and upended.

  There were barrels out front, and big coils of rope, and a man stood there calling people in: “Builder’s Hardware! Still alive! Still selling! Come on in and see what we got!”

  And there, leaning against one of the barrels in front, was someone I recognized.

  I screamed, “Brody!” and he looked up and we ran into each other’s arms so quickly we both stumbled at the impact. I kissed him hard and said, “Am I glad to see you!”

  He hugged me until I thought my ribs would crack. “Damn, Bea! Where’ve you been? We’ve been looking and looking—I was scared to death you’d been caught in the fire. We all were.”

  “We? You’ve seen the others?”

  He stepped away. His clothes were stained with what looked like blue paint, and I realized his hands were wrapped with dirty bandages. “Yeah. Aloys is fine. So’re Jack and Mrs. Chace and Susan, though Jack’s hands are burned too.” He held up his hands wryly. “That’s what comes of being a good samaritan. I’ll know better next time.”

  “A good samaritan?”

  “Well, I had to help, didn’t I? And Galloway nearly got crushed by a beam, so me and Jack had to pull him out. He’s burnt up pretty bad, and his back is all messed up, but the doctor’s got his eye on him.” Brody’s grin widened. “You were the missing one. And Mrs. Langley. And DeWitt.”

  I swallowed hard. “Mr. DeWitt is missing?”

  “No one’s seen him. But he wasn’t at the theater when the fire broke out, so I guess he’s probably all right.”

  “It wasn’t just the theater that burned.”

  Brody laughed. “No kidding. Damn, you ever seen anything like this?”

  I shook my head. “How did it start?”

  “Hell if I know.” Brody shrugged. “Maybe a cow and a lantern like Chicago. Or maybe Celestials setting off fireworks—that’s what Jack thinks. Where were you?”

  “Downstairs in the greenroom. Getting ready for the performance.” Part of the truth, but not all of it. But it was none of Brody’s business why I’d arrived early, or that the heat and my near-sleepless night had conspired against me, and I’d fallen asleep in the greenroom and had only just woke up when I ran into Mrs. Langley coming down the stairs. “I nearly died in there. But for—” I remembered the promise I’d made to Mrs. Langley just in time. “But I made it out.”

  “You didn’t see Mrs. Langley, did you?”

  “No,” I lied, maybe a little too quickly, but Brody didn’t seem to notice.

  “Lucius thought maybe she was still in the Regal when the fire hit, but I swear I saw her go when rehearsal was over. I guess she’ll turn up eventually. Her husband’s looking for her.”

  “So he’s alive?”

  “Hell yes.” A grin split Brody’s dirty face. “Lucius was on his knees praying for it.”

  He took me with him down the street, turning up what had once been Madison. A crowd of people gathered at the top of the hill, all ragged and dirty and haggard-looking, hovering around their belongings while the militia walked the border. It was only moments before I saw the company. Aloys and Mrs. Chace, Jack and Mr. Geary, and as Brody and I emerged from the crowd, Mrs. Chace caught sight of me and screeched out “Bea!” in a voice so loud it seemed to cut right through the people, and suddenly someone came running at me, and I was pulled into long, strong arms—Jack’s—my nose pressed deep into his smoke-scented chest. I heard the rumble of my name in his throat, and then he released me so that the others had their turn, and I realized how glad I was to have found them. When I was finally released to stand on my own, I was crying from sheer relief and joy.

  Brody handed me a filthy gray handkerchief, and when I wiped my eyes, I left big stripes of black soot on it, and Jack laughed and said I looked like a zebra.

  “She hasn’t seen Mrs. Langley either,” said Brody to the others. “Or DeWitt.”

  Lucius rubbed his mustache thoughtfully. “Well, that is unfortunate. Let us hope
they both turn up soon for our sake. And for Mrs. Langley’s husband’s, of course.”

  My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours. “Is there any food?”

  He shook his head. “Not a dry goods store or grocery left in the city, and only three restaurants, and they’re already out of food.”

  “Did you manage to save anything?”

  “Ah, only my skin, my dear Bea. But fortunately we’ve the whole of the company to continue on with. The Regal will rise again!”

  “How? There’s no theater.”

  “A situation I am trying to remedy. The show must go on, you know! These poor wretches will need our entertainment in the days to come. Your Mr. Langley is appealing to the city council now for a permit for us to continue in a tent. I’ve decided we shall call it the Phoenix!”

  “I’m surprised he’s not looking for his wife.”

  Lucius said, “I believe he has been. It doesn’t bear thinking about, of course, a terrible tragedy, but … if the most unfortunate of events occurs, we will dedicate our first show to her. That should have the gossips buying tickets.”

  “What an opportunist you are.”

  He gave me a grim smile. “And it’s lucky for you I am, eh, Bea? Else you would not have a job on top of having no place to live.”

  “Then perhaps you could find your way clear to advance me next week’s salary?”

  “Ah, would that I could, my sweet flower. Would that I could! Last night’s receipts went up in flames, and much to my dismay, the banks have not yet opened for business. But rest assured that others share our dilemma. Of course, when I have the tent, I will insist the entire company stay there. Free of charge, of course.”

  Not out of any charitable feeling, I knew. If we were all staying in the tent, we would be at his beck and call.

  When Lucius turned away to speak to a passing militiaman, I walked over to Jack, who was adjusting the bandage on his hand. “Let me,” I said, securing the knot more tightly. “Do they hurt very much?”

  “Only when I attempt to use them,” he said with a smile. “My stomach complains far more, I fear.”

  “I heard they were setting up relief tents tomorrow.”

  “If they can find a way to get the supplies in. There are steamers waiting in the harbor now, but there’s no place to dock.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “The wharves are burned to the ground, or haven’t you noticed? One or two are only damaged, but I hear it will take days to repair them enough to unload a ship.”

  Jackson gave me a quick kiss before he walked off, and I stood there and thought about Nathan Langley being alive and Mrs. Langley saying she didn’t want him to know she’d survived, and that made me think of his anger and the things he’d said about her. I didn’t want to contemplate any of it. If I thought about it, I would care, and I didn’t want to care. I just wanted her out of my life, the sooner the better.

  So when Aloys came up to me and said, “Brody said you were in the theater when the fire broke out. You didn’t see Mrs. Langley, did you?” I snapped, “No, I did not see her. I don’t know where the hell she is.” When he looked taken aback, I forced a calmer tone. “She’ll land on her feet, Aloys. Rich people always do. I’m more concerned for Mr. DeWitt, to tell the truth.”

  He nodded and stroked his beard, and the thoughtful way he looked at me made me nervous. “We all are, my dear. We all are.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Geneva

  During the hours she was gone, it was easy to lose myself in the crowd, though I kept to myself and spoke to no one. The displaced people were not of my class, and I was a stranger to them. When the woman of the house—who I didn’t know—came out with bread and butter and cool water to offer to those of us camped in her yard, I pulled out the few remaining pins in my hair and let it fall to cover half my face, and went like a beggar with the others, too hungry to care about dignity.

  I could not wait for Mrs. Wilkes to return to tell me what she’d learned, whether Nathan was still alive. Everything depended on it. If he were dead, there would be no need to leave and go into hiding. There would still be my father to consider, but he was far from here, and that distance could give me the time I needed to convince him that Nathan had lied and slanted the truth, that I was not mad.

  But if Nathan were alive, he would continue to lie about me, and I would need to run to save myself. My father would only see that as one more manifestation of insanity. Even if I could manage to convince him otherwise, it would take so much longer. Years perhaps. And what would I do for money, now that control of my accounts had been given to Nathan? There was the cash in the safe in Nathan’s study, assuming I could get to it, but it wouldn’t be enough to keep me for long, especially once I paid Mrs. Wilkes her two hundred dollars. Where was I to go?

  There was a part of me that marveled at the suddenness with which every bit of affection I’d felt for my husband had died, how quickly he had become my enemy. But then again, I was not surprised. After all, I had known already that my marriage was over. It was my attempt to end it that had brought us here. These last months, telling myself I could love him again, had been the lie. There was no point in berating myself for that; Nathan had made my father and society his accomplices, and I’d had no choice but to try to find contentment in the only life left to me. But that I had walked so trustingly the path he’d laid for me, that I had been so willingly blind—that was hard to forgive.

  I stared at the smoking ashes, so deep in contemplation that when I saw the woman on the block before me, stepping gracefully through the wreckage, it seemed I was watching myself, as if it were my spirit that sat here on the hill, watching my body move through the world, and when the body stepped from the smoke, it took me a moment to realize it was Mrs. Wilkes.

  She sat down beside me with a great sigh. “He’s alive.”

  My dismay was so profound I had to close my eyes against the sudden press of tears.

  “Dear God. What will I do now? Where will I go?” I whispered. I turned to Mrs. Wilkes. Her expression was more than faintly hostile. Desperately I said, “I need to find Mr. DeWitt.”

  She gave me a look I couldn’t decipher. “Mr. DeWitt? Why?”

  “It doesn’t matter. If you could bring him to me—”

  “That might be difficult, seeing as no one knows where the hell he is.”

  I looked at her in surprise. “Didn’t you find the company?”

  “Yes. But not him. He’s missing.”

  Missing. “No. He can’t be. That’s not possible—”

  “Believe me, it is.”

  “But where was he when it started?”

  “No one knows.”

  “Do you think … no, he can’t have been caught in the fire.”

  Mrs. Wilkes turned abruptly away. “I don’t know, all right? I don’t know where he is or where he was or anything else.”

  Her dismay was obvious. I thought of the things he’d said about her; I had thought his admiration only one-sided, given how she treated him at rehearsals. Apparently it wasn’t. I wasn’t certain how I felt about that, but now was not the time to wonder.

  “I can’t do this alone,” I said to her. “I thought perhaps he would … but if he’s gone … well, I can’t wait until he’s found.”

  She swiped a hand across her eyes. “You’re talking in riddles.”

  I grabbed her arm so hard she started. “You don’t understand. I need to get out of this city before Nathan finds me. I was going to ask Mr. DeWitt for help, but now I don’t have any other choice. I need you to help me.”

  She jerked her arm away. “I only promised to see if Nathan was alive.”

  I could only promise her more of what I already had too little of. “Then I’ll pay you more. Just … you must help me.”

  “You’re right, I don’t understand, Mrs. Langley. You’ve got a rich husband, servants, a fine house. Why would you give it all up?”
>
  I barely heard her. “I’ll need a steamer ticket—”

  “A steamer ticket won’t help you.”

  “—and after that a ship from San Francisco—”

  “The steamers can’t land to take you out of here,” she persisted. “The wharves are all gone or damaged. It will be days before they repair one enough that a ship can dock.”

  “Days?” I asked in dismay. “How can that be possible?”

  “Well, let me see. There was a fire. Wharves are made of wood. They burned.”

  I went hot at her condescension. “Surely the boats can land somewhere else?”

  “Certainly they can. Just not anywhere in Seattle. Half the city is burned to the ground, Mrs. Langley. Nowhere I saw looked any better than this.”

  “Do you think it possible to pay someone to take me out of town?”

  She shrugged. “You can pay someone to do most anything. Especially now, I’d guess. But it doesn’t matter. Unless you have a fortune in your pockets, there’s no money. The banks are closed. And even if they were open, you said you didn’t want Nathan to know you were alive. How do you mean to get this money you keep talking about without his finding out?”

  Quietly, I said, “I don’t need a bank. There’s a safe in Nathan’s study where he keeps the funds to pay the servants and household accounts. There should be several hundred dollars in it.”

  “Several hundred dollars. For paying the household accounts and the servants.” Mrs. Wilkes laughed.

  “If I had it, I could hire someone to take me where I could catch a train. Or another steamer.”

  “If you had it, I imagine you could get most anything you wanted in this town just now,” she said. “But why leave? Your husband is looking for you. Why don’t you forget all this and go home?”