Robert manipulated the ends of the bone back into position and maneuvered a splint in place. The man groaned and winced during the procedure, but managed to remain still until Robert finished.
Robert placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Wherever you end up after today, have someone take a look at your arm. And be careful with it—no lifting, no motion at all.” Robert sighed. Any further advice would be wasted. No motion? Unlikely.
Gerald waited at the door. “That’s the last patient for now, Robert. Dr. McKinley has arrived and Dr. Carson will be by later. We need to get downtown and see what we can salvage from the office before all of Market Street is gone.”
Robert tied the cloth sling, careful that it supported the splinted arm and patted the older man on his good shoulder before joining his friend. “Have you heard how far the fire has spread?”
Gerald shook his head. “No one seems to know. Evidently there are some problems with the water mains.”
As he followed Gerald through the front doors, Robert paused, staring at the roiling clouds billowing upward into the sky. The weight growing all morning in Robert’s chest sank into his stomach. What lay before him was no simple fire. It was an inferno.
Abby paused at the corner, nibbling her lip as she pondered the options. Run up the hill and tell Mama she’d agreed to a second errand, or risk a quick dash down to Gerald’s office? The towers of smoke curled upward like a giant fist punching at the gates of heaven. If she didn’t hurry, she might miss Gerald all together. At the base of the steep hill, the downtown spread out before her. Beyond the ferry building, morning sunlight sparkled on the bay, the haze eating away at the view. Abby’s gaze climbed the columns of smoke as they bulged and churned in the sky.
Abby lifted the edge of her skirt and jogged down the hill, gravity hurrying her feet and Aunt Mae’s book bouncing against her thigh. A trio of women nodded to her, the feathers on their hats bobbing as they walked.
With each street she passed, the damage multiplied, the city transforming before her eyes. Broken glass crunched beneath her shoes as she stepped over piles of debris—blocks of cement, bricks, twisted pieces of wood. She reached out a trembling hand to touch the corner of a fallen building. Only two walls remained, standing jagged against the sky. Across the road, a second structure stood open to the world, its entire front wall missing, like an oversized dollhouse. A sudden weakness clutched at Abby’s legs, as she struggled to accept the reality before her eyes.
“Cecelia,” Abby touched the locket nestled under her shirt, “Be glad you didn’t see this.”
The crowds thickened. People walked westward, away from the smoke, arms spilling over with belongings. Anything with wheels had been pressed into service: carts, baby buggies, and toy wagons. Men and women dragged trunks and cases, the heavy items bumping over the debris-strewn ground.
A red-faced woman pushed a pram, loaded down with belongings, three bundle-toting children trailing in her wake, the youngest clinging to her skirt. Tears streamed down the face of the little child, a heavy shawl tied around her neck over what appeared to be multiple layers of clothing. “Carry me! Carry me!”
In the distance, the top floors of a building burned like a torch, flames licking out of its upper windows and dancing up into the sky like demons, twirling and jumping with sinister glee. A disheveled man pointed a shaking finger at the flames. “God’s wrath! God is pouring His wrath out on His people! He punishes this evil generation with fire and death!” Face twisted, spittle hanging at the corner of his mouth, the man’s gray hair waved in the breeze as he clutched a floppy hat to his heaving chest.
Few stopped to watch and listen, most people giving the wild-looking man a wide berth.
“Turn and repent! He shakes out His house and possessions! He will drive you from the land!” The man lifted his hands and eyes toward the smoky sky. “In a moment shall they die, and the people shall be troubled at midnight, and pass away: and the mighty shall be taken away without hand.”
“Shut up, you old fool!” A gentleman in a long black coat shook a newspaper at the man. “We got enough trouble. We don’t need your preaching.”
Abby hurried away in the direction of the flames. She had no desire to hear more about God’s destruction. Ruin was obvious on all sides. She pushed through the crowd like a fish swimming against the current. Abby pressed both arms to her stomach, gripping elbows with rigid fingers. Just a few more blocks.
25
9:05 a.m.
A bby tugged open the heavy oak door, the dust-filled building a quiet respite from the chaos of the street. Chunks of plaster and cement littered the wooden stairway. Lifting the hem of her skirt, Abby picked her way through the mess.
Lacelike cracks decorated the windowpane in Gerald’s office door. Abby turned the doorknob and crunched across the glass-strewn rug. “Cousin Gerald?” Her voice trembled. She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. “Gerald?”
The reception room lay in shambles. Broken glass from the window covered the green settee while smashed vases and artwork littered the floor. Pushing open the door to the inner office, Abby peered inside. Medical instruments lay scattered like a child’s playthings.
Gerald entered from a back room, his arms filled with papers, his eyes wide. “Abigail, what are you doing here? Are you all right? Does your family need help?” Gerald plopped the armload onto a table before striding to her side.
Robert, equally burdened, hovered in the doorway.
Abby pulled her gaze from Robert’s face, attempting to focus on her cousin. “What? Oh, no—I’m fine. Everyone is well.”
Gerald placed his hand on her forearm, his lowered brows creating wrinkles on his forehead. “Then why are you here? You should be at home.”
Brushing both hands across her skirt, Abby stared as Robert stepped farther into the room, his unkempt appearance chasing every thought from her mind. Never had she seen him in such a state—his brown hair tousled, vest unbuttoned, shirt stained. Blood?
Gerald’s pressure on her arm drew her attention back. “Um, I . . .I . . . ” Abby struggled to formulate an answer to a question she’d already forgotten.
A glint appeared in Robert’s eye. “You didn’t come downtown for a stroll.”
“Of course not.” Abby reached for the bag, turning her gaze back to Gerald. “Great Aunt Mae was concerned you had forgotten some of your instruments. She was afraid you might need them.” Abby drew out the carefully wrapped tools.
Gerald’s face darkened. “Mother shouldn’t have sent you down here. It’s not a safe day for a girl to be walking the streets alone.” He turned toward Robert. “How would you feel about seeing my cousin home?”
Abby clenched her fingers. “I’m not a child. I don’t need an escort.” And certainly not him.
A smile lit Robert’s dirt-smudged face. “It would be an honor.”
“Good.” Gerald nodded. “I’ll meet you at the hospital when you are finished. I think our task here is about complete, anyway.”
Abby tugged at the edge of her shirtwaist. “Go back to work, both of you. I will be fine.” How could she manage intelligent conversation with Robert for the entire walk home? The moment he’d entered the room, she’d forgotten the purpose of her trip.
“I don’t want to spend the rest of the day worrying about whether or not you arrived.” Gerald folded his arms across his chest.
Footsteps pounded on the rickety staircase, the steps groaning under the pressure. “Dr. Larkspur?” A raspy voice echoed up the stairwell.
Gerald pushed past Abby as he stepped into the corridor. “Yes?”
A man appeared at the top of the stairs, his face red and dripping with sweat. “Doc, we got a building down, and they’re pulling folks out now. You need to patch them up so we can get moved before the fire comes.”
“Let me get my bag, and I’ll follow you.” Gerald ducked into the office, reappearing a moment later with a large black case.
Robert hes
itated. “Gerald—should I . . . ” He gestured toward Abby.
The red-faced man mopped his brow. “We need all the hands we can get. The fire is bearing down fast.”
Abby stepped forward. “Go, both of you. I can return to Maple Manor on my own.” A quiver shot through her stomach. “Unless you’d rather I stayed to help?”
Gerald shook his head. “I want you out of harm’s way.”
Robert buttoned his vest. “I can get Abby home and be back in a heartbeat.”
Abby braced her hands against her hips. “I can take care of myself. Those people cannot.”
Her cousin closed his eyes, pressing a hand to his forehead. After a slow exhale, he frowned, pointing a finger at her. “Be careful. This is a dangerous situation. I want you to hurry straight back to Maple Manor and stay put. I’ll come and check on you and your mother as soon as I can get away.”
“I’ll be careful, I promise.”
Gerald gestured toward the office as he started down the stairs. “Robert, lock those files in the safe and then come join me.”
Robert stood at Abby’s side, gazing at her for a long moment without speaking. “Are you certain, Abby? I really don’t mind seeing you home.” He touched her sleeve.
Abby’s knees wobbled as butterfly wings tickled her stomach. Be strong. She glanced away from his earnest eyes. “I’m sure.”
Robert’s stomach tightened as he stood at the office window, watching Abby disappear into the mass of people walking the cobblestone streets. He gripped the packet of instruments she’d carried through the city, as if the pressure of his hand could somehow protect her on the journey home. His gaze traveled over the nearby buildings, lifting to where three separate pillars of smoke rose into the skyline, one so close he could see flames dancing out of the windows of a building. Lord, keep her safe.
After locking the safe, he hurried after Gerald. Running a hand through his thick hair, Robert replaced his derby. From the expression on Abby’s face, he must look a fright. Robert quickened his step, his heart pounding at the idea of what types of injuries they might encounter.
For years he’d dreamed of doing scientific research, fighting to unlock the secrets of disease. Today he’d set broken bones, sutured cuts, and debrided wounds—dirty work, but oddly enjoyable. Robert grimaced, rubbing a hand across the back of his head. Not enjoyable, exactly—just a bit gratifying to see instant results.
Robert rushed over to where Gerald crouched next to a patient. The unconscious fireman lay sprawled on the sidewalk, ankle and foot pinned beneath a massive granite block.
A second fireman, thumb hooked in his suspenders, hovered at Gerald’s shoulder. “We’ve got to get him out of here, Doc. Do what you gotta do.”
Gerald sliced through the trouser leg, revealing the bloody remains of the man’s lower limb. He sighed. “Completely crushed. There’d be no saving it, anyhow.” His gaze met Robert’s. “You’ll assist me?”
Robert swallowed the bile creeping up his throat, and dug into the open bag for the bottle of ether. Perhaps instant results weren’t so gratifying.
26
9:30 a.m.
Abby dug her hands deep into the pockets of her skirt as she hurried up the street, away from the rolling clouds of smoke billowing on the skyline. As she pushed her tired legs up the steep hill, she risked a glance over her shoulder. The fires were moving quickly, consuming buildings that moments before had stood untouched. Her stomach churned at the thought of Gerald and Robert working while the danger raced toward them.
Pray for them. Abby could almost hear Cecelia’s voice whispering in her ear.
Abby blew out a slow exhale, letting the air buzz through her lips. A lot of good it did you.
She strode to the corner and crossed the street, but a wall of smoke filled the space between the buildings. Stumbling back, she turned south to skirt around the worst parts. The distant roar pounded in her temples. An old man with a handful of newspapers clutched to his chest collided with her, sending Abby stumbling into a crooked lamppost.
With only a scornful glance, the man staggered off into the throng.
Brushing off her sleeve, Abby stepped over a pile of terra cotta tiles and blocks of brick and cement. The crowd thinned as she continued south, looking for an easier route home.
As she turned the corner onto Market Street, a blast of heat stung her cheeks. Less than a block away another fire burned, licking through the windows of a church. Abby stopped, entranced by the terrible beauty of the twisting, incandescent flames as they capered about the ruins of the structure.
An explosion tore through the air, echoing down the street like a bouncing rubber ball. Abby’s ears buzzed. She backed up against a building as bystanders ran in every direction, like ants from a kicked-over hill.
Eyes stinging from the smoke, Abby dug her fingernails against the brick wall. This is insanity. The whole city could burn. She released her grip, edging away from the conflagration, but refusing to turn her back for fear the fire would pursue her like a monster from a nightmare.
A second explosion ripped through a nearby building, slamming her back into the brick storefront. Abby’s head cracked against the wall, fireworks dancing in her eyes and a rushing roar filling her ears. Turning her head, tiny pieces of grit and dirt pelted her arms and clothes. Abby coughed, stumbling and sinking down to one knee. Leaning over, she clutched at the earth as her stomach rolled.
As the dust settled, Abby wiped a sleeve across her mouth and pushed to her feet. “Cecelia,” she whispered, “What am I doing here?”
10:15 a.m.
Robert pulled the catgut thread through one last suture and dabbed the area with iodine. Everything about today’s work gripped at his conscience. His instructors had always emphasized the importance of working in a clean environment, washing hands, sterilizing tools. Dried blood coated his fingers, his shirt covered in filth. How many of these patients would survive today, only to succumb to sepsis in the days to come?
“Doc, you finished? We’ve got to get a move on.” A thin fireman with a beard hovered at his shoulder, his breath adding to the myriad of foul odors hanging in the air and setting Robert’s head throbbing.
“Yes, I’m finished.” Robert leaned over the prone form on the ground, lifting the patient’s eyelids one by one. This man might not even get the opportunity to fret over the loss of his leg. All signs pointed to brain injury.
Robert helped the fireman load the injured man onto a canvas stretcher. “Where are you taking him? I’d like to check on him later.”
Weary eyes looked out from the dirt-streaked face. “I’d heard a temporary hospital had been set up at the Mechanic’s Pavilion, across from City Hall. But I think the fires have already reached there, so I thought I’d head up toward Golden Gate Park.”
“Golden Gate? It’s miles from here. You’ll never make it on foot.”
“Hopefully I’ll be able to find a cart to give us a lift.” Gesturing to another man, the fireman crouched to lift his end. “No time to argue. We’ve got to put some distance between us and those flames.”
A roar in the background made Robert turn. Fire ripped through the upper stories of a nearby building, smoke rolling up into the sky. A lump crawled into his throat as the inferno increased in ferocity with each passing minute.
Gerald gripped his arm, the flames casting an orange glow on his face. “Come on. We’ve done all we can—time to get out.”
Robert dropped to his knees, gathering the equipment with shaking hands. Without bothering to clean anything, he thrust the tools into the medical bag and snapped the lid, his fingers barely able to secure the leather strap.
Gerald shouted and gestured, his words lost to the roar of the wind. He loped off down the street, toward the hill.
Robert tucked the bag under his arm and chased after his friend, the scorching heat tickling the back of his neck.
27
10:20 a.m.
Abby grabbed up her skirt and sprinte
d through the smoke-filled street, breath rasping in her chest. Ashes floated from the sky like snowflakes, but she didn’t take the time to brush them from her hair and dress. Stupid, stupid girl. Gerald was correct, you should have gone straight home.
She charged up the hill toward Maple Manor, pushing through the crowd gathered at the corner. Why are people lingering here?
“Hey, Miss! Stop! You can’t go that way.” A voice trailed after her, followed by pounding footsteps. “Wait!” A hand clamped onto Abby’s arm, her body jerking back at the sudden interruption. A tall policeman glared down, his grip fierce and his face smeared with a combination of sweat and soot.
“This area is off-limits.” He released his hold. “You need to head to safety.”
Abby rubbed her arm where his fingers had pinched against the muscle. The policeman’s resemblance to her father gave her pause. A lump rose in her throat as she thought about Papa alone at the farm, possibly injured. “I’m trying to go home, sir.” She glanced up the hill. “My mother and brother are waiting for me.”
“You can’t go that way. They are getting ready to dynamite this whole area to clear a firebreak. They want to stop this blaze before it takes everything.”
“Dynamite?” Abby swallowed, her throat like sandpaper. “How will explosives help anything?”
“They have to do something. There’s no water to be had.” He shoved his hat back along his head, exposing a stretch of pink skin between the soot line and the brim. “This whole area has been evacuated.”
“I have to get back,” Abby crossed her arms, gripping onto her elbows. “They’re waiting for me.”
“Head for Union Square. They’ve probably gone there.”
Out of the Ruins Page 17
