Promise of Tomorrow

by Moore, S. Dionne

  Jack crossed the bridge into Johnstown when another rumble swelled through the air. He dared a glance over his left shoulder and saw a black mist and a yellow wall of water. His heart jumped and pounded. Cold sweat popped up along his back and forehead. He pulled the horse up hard and vaulted to the ground. Turning, he gave the animal a hard smack on the rump, and it took off.

  Jack flung open the door of a tall building and raced up the steps. His mind absorbed details as he went. The banister and rails, the doors with numbers lining the hall. A hotel. As he raced up the second flight of steps, he heard voices, frantic and high-pitched, underscored by the deeper tones of a man’s voice. And over that a deep rumbling that built into a deafening roar. A gust of wind sucked up the steps. Jack’s legs burned.

  On the third-floor landing, he saw a man at the window and a huddle of people crouching in a corner. Shadows held the people captive, but the deafening roar, growing louder by the second, had etched lines of terror in their faces.

  “Is there an attic?” he yelled above the roar.

  The man at the window ran toward them, arms waving. “Get up the steps. All the way up!”

  As one, the group rose. Jack’s eyes darted around the room, but he saw no stairway until the man flung open a narrow door to reveal an equally narrow flight of steps. The house shuddered hard. Water shot through the glass of the windows, sending shards across the room as water poured through the new opening. Beneath their feet, the floor rose like a raft, carrying them to the ceiling. Jack crouched and lay flat to avoid becoming crushed against the ceiling. He rolled over, and the floor disintegrated beneath him. Screams and shouts rent the air around him as people were set adrift in the raging, swirling waters.

  Jack struck out. He gasped at the cold water, spat at the wetness invading his nostrils and pushing into his mouth. More cries and screams came to his ears, moans, all sifted through the roar and crash of water, the tearing of wood and rip of nails popping. Lifting and tumbling, the water swelled and churned until the building itself simply disappeared. Jack fought the pull of the undercurrent, shocked to see the menacing pewter of the sky.

  A hard shove brought pain to his shoulder. Water filled his ears, and something grabbed his leg. A hand? He bent in two to feel for whatever it might be, but the grip released. A huge piece of debris barreled toward him, a man and woman huddled together. Jack saw the woman’s mouth open. . .then she was gone. The water rolled him. When he braced his body, he sank lower, so he relaxed, exhausted. His hand touched something hard, and he squeezed his eyes shut to clear water. A board floated away and then shot back toward him, taunting him with its nearness.

  He moved that direction, arms leaden, legs limp. Every movement brought him closer to the board. The board shifted direction and flowed away as if sucked by a gaping mouth toward a distant point. With the last bit of strength he could muster, he made a grab for the piece of wood as it began to twist away again. Jagged pain raced up his arms as his hands slid over the rough wood and he pulled himself partially onto the surface.

  Jack’s nerves burned. He floated, pulled by the current. Afraid to raise his head and see more terrible sights, he knew the sounds were enough.

  When he’d rested and his vision cleared, he lifted his head to take in his surroundings. Rooftops. Boards. A dead horse. As he watched, a tall building, of which only the top floor was visible, swayed and plunged beneath the surface. He began to paddle toward the distant mountain.

  “People are more important than things.” Through a fog of exhausted uncaring, he saw Alaina’s smile. The smile dimmed into a frown and her arms stretched out. “You can do it, Jack.”

  The icy water began to work its brand of paralysis. Moving became more difficult. Jack clung to the words he heard in his mind, Alaina’s image having long faded. Something moved around his legs. Water began to swirl around his body and pull at him. He tightened his hold on the board.

  Oh, God, was all he had time for before another wave engulfed him.

  ❧

  “What is it? Why have we stopped?” Alaina put the questions to the conductor.

  “Everything is fine, I’m sure, miss. We’ll move along shortly.”

  Left with little to do but wait, Alaina watched the muddy, swollen river rush by not far from where they sat.

  A woman farther up in the car gasped, and the man behind her shot from his seat and pushed his face against the window. His expletive accompanied a man surging into view on the swift river, clinging to a board. More debris swirled and tossed in the angry waters, and another person shot by.

  Everyone on the train seemed frozen to the spot. Then the men in Alaina’s car seemed to come alive all at once. More exclamations, more shuffling of feet, then they started getting off, one by one. The women hovered at the windows and watched in terror as a house crashed into a clot of debris.

  Within minutes the men had found makeshift poles or anchored each other in an effort to catch people. A young man cinched a cord around his waist and struck out toward the house caught in the trees. Alaina watched the man’s struggle with bated breath. He twisted and turned every which way, at last arriving at the shattered house. When he emerged, he held something close.

  “He’s got a baby!” one of the women next to Alaina exclaimed.

  “Where is this coming from?” A woman threw the question out to no one in particular.

  Alaina collected the words, then spoke them out loud, her lips dry and her eyes burning. “Johnstown. It’s from Johnstown. The dam must have broken.”

  “True. There’s too much water for it to be a simple flood,” someone else replied.

  “Do you know someone from there?” a dark-haired woman asked the question of Alaina.

  “My mother and fian—” Her voice broke. “Fiancé are there.”

  “Oh, how terrible for you.”

  Genuine sympathy oozed from the woman and broke down every ounce of Alaina’s composure. Her legs became weak, and she folded herself onto the seat, buried her face, and allowed the sobs she’d held back to break free. Jack’s expression at the train station filled her mind and made her despair that much harder to bear.

  Momma. Jack. Missy and Sam.

  The list of names marched across her mind and further deepened the well of her cries. She felt the pressure of two arms cradle her close and cared not who it was who offered the comfort. She clung to the person as if she herself had been set adrift in the wildly raging river.

  “Look!” she heard one of the women say.

  The person holding her tensed, and Alaina could feel her benefactor’s body shift position, though her arms remained around her. Alaina kept her eyes closed.

  “He’s going back.”

  “No!”

  Alaina raised her head then, and the raven-haired woman smiled down at her and stroked her cheek. Then she, too, rose and crossed to the windows.

  “He is going back.”

  “One of us should tend that baby.”

  “There’s a new mother in the next car. Perhaps she could care for the wee one.”

  The conversation between the women swirled around Alaina. She felt detached and afraid. A deep coldness clenched down on her spine and made her shiver, and still they talked.

  “He’s bringing out someone else.”

  “He must be exhausted.”

  “Oh, the child won’t be all alone then. Thank the Good Lord.”

  She never understood where the strength to rise came from or what drew her to the window, but when she saw the rescued woman come closer, carried by one of the men, her dress little more than rags around her, Alaina felt the shock shedding from her mind and body. She took a step back as the man carrying the woman answered the frantic waving of her fellow passengers and brought the rescued woman on board. She sucked in a breath and went to the place where the man settled the shivering, wet form onto a seat. “Mrs. Newton!” Alaina knelt, her skirts billowing around her.

  The woman’s gaze landed on her, dull a
nd unfocused.

  “You know her. That’s good. Keep talking to her while we get her warm.” Alaina’s benevolent companion turned away and raised her voice to be heard. “I need any spare clothing you can offer. Hurry now! Someone run over and check on the babe. The news will help her.”

  Alaina remained where she was and took the cold, pale hand in her own. “I’m the daughter of your dressmaker, Mrs. Newton. I remember you well. My mother worked from Heiser’s store.”

  Mrs. Newton’s pale eyes ran over Alaina’s face. She blinked slowly, and a shiver shook her slender form. “It’s all gone,” she whispered.

  Alaina strained to hear the words and swallowed as comprehension dawned. All gone? She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and gulped. All. Gone. Momma? Jack?

  She never knew if she fell back or was pushed aside as the women began to bundle the woman in the spare clothing, but as Alaina regained her balance and rose to her feet, she knew she could not stay, stranded in Sang Hollow, four miles from Johnstown. Determination stiffened her spine, and she slipped off the car and into the rain.

  Twenty-four

  Jack clung to the board, wrapping his arms around it to give his muscles some relief. He wanted to crawl on top of it, but his strength vanished. Blood trickled down his neck, and he dared not touch the spot where the water had slammed him into the brick wall of a building.

  A hoarse scream for help, a man’s voice, came quietly and then more loudly as Jack’s raft floated closer to a home, only the attic visible and the lone man on top. With what little strength he could muster, he paddled closer. The current tried to drag him back, but he kept on. One hand. Then the other. One leg. Then the other. The man quieted as Jack drew closer.

  “Jump!” Jack screamed. “Jump, and I’ll come to you.”

  The man twisted on the rooftop, back and forth, as if he searched for some other means of escape. In the dim light, Jack felt the familiarity of that profile, of that form. He dug deep into the violent gray waters to push himself closer to the distraught man.

  “Help me!”

  “Here!” Jack yelled. The man’s eyes landed on Jack. A jolt of surprise ripped through him. Robert.

  “You going to save me, Kelly?” The question was both wistful and arrogant.

  A quiver vibrated through the water, and Jack saw the house shift ever so slightly. “You’ve got to get off there. Now. Jump before it goes under.”

  Robert scrambled closer. “Playing the hero?”

  The waters shifted direction again. Jack’s struggle to get closer to the house morphed into an all-out fight to keep from being crushed against it. He threw out one hand to brace himself even as he fought to retain his grip on the board. Too late, the water jerked the wood from his grasp. He lunged and caught it, just as the water drove him back and slammed his head against the corner of the brick. He heard a scream but didn’t know if it was from his own lips or not. Pain slid up his neck, and his vision dimmed.

  When his sight cleared, he lessened his grip and felt the water begin to tear at him again, this time in the opposite direction. He tightened his hug on the board and squinted up at the roof, trying to make sense of things. Warmth on his neck let him know the extent of his injury.

  Cool water surged upward and engulfed his body. Jack struggled to hold his place close to the roof, to think what had brought him here.

  “People. . .more important. . .than things.” Alaina’s voice.

  The words stoked his mind, and the mist over his thinking rolled back. The cry came again, like that of a hurt animal. Close. He looked up and blinked, trying to focus. Robert’s form became clear, and Jack’s mind flooded with what had become his mission. He sucked air into his lungs and tried to pull strength from somewhere deep inside him.

  No. He didn’t have to do this. Robert’s weight on the board could sink them both. No one would blame him. No one would know.

  Air flowed around him, and he blinked slowly. Robert stood for all he had wanted and lost, and the man had rubbed his victory in Jack’s face.

  Did it mean anything now? Could he doom the man to death without trying to save his life?

  God, help me.

  He lifted his head. “Robert.” No. His voice didn’t carry over the noise of the water, of distant screams and crashing. Of Robert’s own panicked cries. Jack swallowed and raised his head higher. “Robert! Robert, I can’t stay here. The building’s going to go. Jump!”

  Robert stilled. His head tilted as if he heard something Jack did not.

  Like an invisible hand, Jack felt a shove that sent him surging backward, away from the rooftop. Even as the distance between them grew, Jack saw the building sway. Desperate, he tried one more time. “Robert, jump!”

  Another shift of the house seemed to jerk Robert back to reality. He ran up the roof, slipped, caught himself, and began a desperate crawl to the ridge.

  The house shuddered, and Jack tasted terror for the man. “No!”

  When Robert reached the tip, the house twisted and rose, then collapsed inward. Brick crumbled, puffs of smoke and mist sprayed outward, and then the roof disappeared.

  Twenty-five

  Jack felt the bite of Alaina’s admonition as he drifted, aimlessly, helplessly, pulled by currents he couldn’t see that had rendered him too weak to fight. He relived Robert’s plunge into the monstrous body of water. His pitiful wails, even his taunting remarks, he understood. Eyes squeezed shut, he reviewed his foolish pride. His neglect. Hadn’t Alaina told him all along she didn’t need to be rich? How his pride had hurt her. He would listen now, if given another chance. He would hear her and marry her and love her.

  Now, in the midst of disaster, houses didn’t matter. Stoves and sewing machines and fancy clothes and money. Nothing mattered more than knowing those you loved were safe and well and whole.

  He allowed himself the sobs when he considered he might not get another chance. He had to try, to fight as much as he could. First, he must rest. His eyes felt heavy, and he floated, numb to his surroundings and the sounds and the awful swirl of water that dragged him around.

  When he finally raised his head, he thought he heard voices. He floated close to a building. People hung out the windows, arms outstretched and beckoning him. It penetrated slowly that they were calling to him.

  “Over here!”

  He blinked away the dullness and started to kick his feet. A familiar face came into focus, but he couldn’t put a name to the man. “Hurry before you crash.”

  Then he felt it. A current. Sucking him out. Away from the man and his hand and the hope of a solid place to lay his head and rest. He moved his feet, and the muscles in his legs cramped. He ground his teeth against the pain and moved them anyway, wanting so much to rest, to slide away.

  You can do it, Jack.

  He moved his head, kicked as hard as he could. A stab of pain shot through his brain. Then hands were reaching for his board and pulling him close. He heard the grunts and groans of men, felt himself lifted.

  “Bad gash on his head. Get the doc.”

  In what seemed minutes, someone leaned over him and said, “I’m Dr. William Matthews.”

  Jack closed his eyes, secure in the knowledge he was out of the waters. He breathed a heartfelt Thank You, Lord, and allowed himself to slip away.

  ❧

  When Jack woke in the dark of night, he found himself in a room full of people. Some lay on the ground, moaning, their snippets of prayers punctuated by the cries of children in the high-ceilinged room. Close to the front windows as he was, Jack could see those around him, while those farther into the room were shadowed in dark gray. But the reason for the light in the pitch dark of night sickened him—fires had broken out.

  He sat up and touched the single strand of cotton circling his head. A dull ache throbbed at the base of his skull. A high-pitched scream rent the air and then faded, but the sound brought Jack to his feet and made his scalp crawl.

  “She’s giving birth. Babies do not w
ait for convenient times to be born. Just as death does not rely on convenience to schedule its grim appointment. We must be ready.”

  It took Jack a moment to put a face to the voice. A little woman sat in a corner, her clothes in tatters. She shook in the chill air, folded her head onto her drawn-up knees, and went silent, as if the explanation wrenched the last of her strength.

  Another scream rose. This one lingered long before it faded back, and within moments, the pitiful wail of a baby joined the jumble of shrieks and prayers.

  Jack went to the window and tried to piece together where he was and what had happened. Not knowing where Frank was. Or Missy and Sam. Or Charlotte.

  “You’re awake.”

  Jack turned, the quick action rewarded with a roll of dull pain that clenched his stomach.

  “Take it easy, son. Jack, isn’t it?”

  Jack could make out the outline of the man who had helped him earlier. “Dr. Matthews.”

  “Yes.” The man inhaled deeply, and his face contorted as if in pain. “Yes. Did our newest baby wake you?”

  “No. No, I just woke up.”

  “Rest did you good. Why don’t you stay here and keep a lookout for anyone who might need help. There are still a few people out there like yourself. We fear the building might go at any time, but we can hardly ignore the needs of others.”

  Jack touched the bandage around his head.

  “Quite a gash. I have little to help you with, but I did try to wrap the bandage and stop the flow of blood.”

  “Thank you. I’ll help any way I can, of course.”

  Dr. Matthews patted his shoulder. “We’ll need you, I’ve no doubt. It will be a long, dark night.”

  Twenty-six

  June 1, 1889

  In the strange silence of morning, Jack realized the blow to his head had affected his vision. Where he could see clearly before his injury, now everything seemed cocooned in a dark haze.