Shaken to the Core

by Jae

  “Oh, come on, what would it hurt to let her take a few photographs?” the younger Mr. Baker said.

  Mr. Winthrop grimaced, glared at Kate, and waved his index finger at her. “You stay in the automobile at all times. No jumping out to take photographs, do you hear me?”

  “Yes, Father,” Kate said, meek as a lamb.

  But Giuliana knew better. If Kate saw a chance at a newspaper-worthy photograph, she’d be out of the automobile, her father and all danger be damned. One more reason why Giuliana wanted to go too. She would keep an eye on Kate.

  CHAPTER 14

  Market Street

  San Francisco, California

  April 18, 1906

  By the time Kate had packed her camera into her carrying case, stuffed as many unexposed glass plates as possible in there, and was finally on her way downtown, it was already after eleven.

  Her father had to drive so slowly that Kate wondered if she wouldn’t be faster walking. Rubble blocked their path in some places, making detours through side streets necessary. The roads were full of people, most heading west to find refuge in Golden Gate Park, others fleeing north toward the open grounds of the Presidio or east toward the ferry building so they could catch a boat to Oakland. It looked as if a mass exodus was on its way.

  Hundreds of soldiers in mustard-colored uniforms patrolled the streets, each carrying a rifle with a bayonet. They must have marched down from their posts in Fort Mason and the Presidio right after the strongest shock of the earthquake had stopped.

  Heavens! Had martial law been declared? Kate fidgeted in the passenger seat and threw a concerned glance over her shoulder at Giuliana in the backseat. Had they underestimated the danger?

  The closer they came to Market Street, the more they had to slow down. The smoke became denser, making them cough.

  Kate stared ahead, to where a two-mile-long wall of smoke rose. Oh Lord. South of Market had to be a raging conflagration, the individual fires probably having merged into one giant inferno. Before, she had just thought of the spectacular photographs she might be able to take, but this was real. A tremor went through her body. She clutched the side of the door in an attempt to make the trembling stop.

  Guilt started to gnaw at her gut. Was it wrong of her to want to photograph the disaster when people were losing their homes—or even their lives? But even if she were to turn around and put her camera away, it wouldn’t make a difference. The fires would keep burning, no matter what. The only thing she could do was document the disaster and keep an eye out for people in need of help.

  Just as her father steered the automobile around the last corner and onto Market Street, a deafening boom shook the cobblestones.

  Kate ducked, her heart pounding. Breath burst in and out of her lungs.

  Her father hit the brakes. “What the heck was that?”

  “Dynamite,” a man shouted from the sidewalk. He was wearing three hats and several layers of clothing, probably trying to save his entire wardrobe. “There’s not a lick of water to be had, so they’re trying to create firebreaks.”

  They were blowing up buildings in the middle of Market Street? Kate couldn’t believe it. As her father carefully steered the automobile northwest, she realized how bad it really was. Several buildings on the south side of Market Street were burning, and the dynamite didn’t seem to stop the flames. A plume of smoke was rising from somewhere behind the Emporium, the fire quickly approaching the department store.

  Kate had to swallow at the sight of all the familiar buildings threatened by fire. It seemed so surreal that her brain had difficulty grasping what was going on. Fear started to skitter down her spine. Was the city in trouble?

  Nonsense, she tried to tell herself. The chief of their fire department wouldn’t let that happen. He was already dealing with the situation, dynamiting some buildings to keep the rest of the city safe.

  Her father seemed to think the same because he continued driving.

  But when they approached Fourth Street, Kate was greeted by a sight that even seeing the Emporium engulfed by smoke hadn’t prepared her for.

  Flames shot out of the top stories of the Spreckels building. Kate’s clammy fingers dug into the leather of the passenger seat. Oh no. No. The tower that housed the San Francisco Call was burning from the top down, like a candle. Editors and reporters had fled the building and were now standing at the intersection, looking as dazed as Kate felt. With no water available, the firefighters could only stand by and watch. One held a hose, the nozzle limply dangling down.

  A heaviness settled over Kate. She knew it was just one more building burning, but to her, the Call was so much more. It represented her hope for the future.

  A hand touched her shoulder from behind.

  When Kate turned, she glanced into Giuliana’s compassionate brown eyes.

  “Look,” Giuliana shouted to be heard over the roar of flames and the boom of explosions. She pointed across the street at the Chronicle building. “This newspaper house is still good. They can print your pictures.”

  Giuliana’s attempt to cheer her up brought a thin smile to Kate’s face. Part of the heaviness lifted from her shoulders. She wouldn’t give up hope. Surely Mr. Fulton and the owners of the Call would find a way to get their newspaper printed, no matter what. And when they did, they’d need photographs to go with it.

  She squeezed the hand that still rested on her shoulder and directed her gaze back at the street in front of them, keeping an eye out for anything worth photographing.

  Despite the approaching fires, people were lining up in front of the banks. Apparently, many citizens had the same idea as her father and wanted to get their money before fleeing the city, but the doors of the banks were barricaded closed.

  Her father spat out a curse. “I’m turning around. I didn’t realize how bad it was. There’s no way we’ll make it all the way to the office. Not without risking our lives.”

  Before he could find a spot to turn the automobile around, two soldiers stepped onto the street in front of them, forcing him to brake. They leveled their rifles at him. “Turn off the engine and get down,” one of them shouted over the boom of explosions.

  Kate’s body went cold and froze in place. All she could do was stare at the firearm.

  “I was just about to turn around and—”

  “I said get down!” The soldier waved the bayonet mounted to his rifle. “We need all able-bodied men to help us clear the street so ambulances and the dynamite squad can pass.”

  Kate’s father made no move to shut off the engine. He gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “Do you have any idea who I am, soldier?”

  “I have a pretty good idea that you’ll be a dead man in two seconds if you don’t do as I say!”

  Kate clutched his arm. “Father, please…” By the steely glint in their eyes, she could tell that the soldiers meant business.

  “Don’t worry,” another soldier said. “We’ll let your father go once he’s helped out for a few hours.”

  Stiffly, his jaw clenched so hard that Kate thought his molars might shatter, her father climbed down from the automobile but kept the engine running. He sent a hard glare up at her. “Go!”

  “But—”

  “Go. Head straight home, do you hear me? I’ll make it home somehow after I’m done helping them.”

  Kate hesitated for a second longer. She didn’t want to leave him behind in the midst of chaos. But if she lingered for much longer, the soldiers might confiscate the automobile or put her and Giuliana to work too. Quickly, she slid over into the driver’s seat, navigated the automobile backward as fast as she safely could, and turned it around at the first opportunity. All of her senses were on high alert, and her gaze was fixed on the street ahead, on the lookout for any danger—or something to photograph. The rush of the chase for a perfect photograph held the fear in check for the most part, but every time the blasts of dynamite boomed in the distance, she flinched and stepped on the gas a little more.
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br />   * * *

  “Where do we go?” Giuliana shouted from the backseat. She was gripping the passenger’s seat before her so tightly that the leather groaned.

  Kate grinned. Apparently, Giuliana already knew her well enough to realize Kate had no intention of returning home, no matter what her father had said. “I’ll take you home, then I’ll head back to City Hall. I want a photograph of the ruins.”

  “No!” Giuliana shouted.

  “Yes!” Kate shouted back. “Giuliana, this is my only chance to prove that a female photographer won’t run away at the first sign of danger.”

  “This is not what I meant. I meant you do not have to drive me back. I come with you.” A tremor vibrated in her voice.

  “Are you sure? It could get dangerous.” Kate turned her head to look at Giuliana when, out of the corner of her eye, she spied soldiers. They were patrolling this area too. Darn. Kate white-knuckled the steering wheel and prayed that they wouldn’t be stopped and forced to hand over the automobile.

  Ahead of them, two soldiers were struggling with a bearded man. “Let go,” one of the soldiers shouted. “Let go or I’ll shoot!”

  What on God’s green earth were they doing? Were they robbing the people they were supposed to protect? Or had the bearded man stolen something?

  As they got closer, Kate saw that the man was gripping a folding camera, one of the smaller Seneca models, if she wasn’t mistaken. When one soldier threatened him with his bayonet, he was forced to let go.

  The other soldier pulled the glass plate out of the camera and flung it onto the cobblestones, where it shattered. He smashed the camera onto the street and hammered the butt of his rifle down on it. Wood splintered. The leather bellows ripped, and the lens board ricocheted across the street.

  A pained moan escaped Kate. She wanted to stop the automobile and demand an explanation.

  “Please drive,” Giuliana said behind her, as if guessing her thoughts.

  Kate forced herself not to look back as they passed the soldiers and the man, who was now kneeling next to his shattered camera. “Did you see that? What are they doing?”

  “I saw,” Giuliana said. “I think they did not want him to make pictures.”

  That much had been obvious. “But why?”

  “I do not know. But you must be careful. If they see you making pictures…”

  Kate gritted her teeth at the thought of her camera being destroyed. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but…will you stand guard for me?”

  Again the soft touch to her shoulder. “I will.” Her fingers on Kate’s shoulders were trembling, but not even a hint of hesitation colored her words.

  Lord, how could Mr. Fulton ever think women didn’t have the guts to get things done?

  “Do not worry,” Giuliana said. “We will let nothing happen to your camera.”

  A blush heated Kate’s cheeks. Other people had lost their homes or even their children in this hell, and here she was, worrying about her camera. “You must think me foolish.”

  “No. I understand.”

  Did she, really? No one else seemed to understand that photography wasn’t just a pleasant pastime for her; it was her ticket to an independent life. Kate said nothing, because they had now reached City Hall Avenue. The avenue was clear of soldiers, but piles of rubble covered the cobblestones, so she needed her full attention to drive.

  Finally, a large piece of masonry blocked their path.

  Kate shut off the engine and hopped down. “You stay with the automobile. I’ll be right back.”

  Giuliana nodded, her face pale.

  Quickly, Kate grabbed her carrying case from beneath the passenger seat and began to set up the camera. The upside-down image of the ruin of City Hall appeared on the ground-glass screen. Kate could already see it on the front page of a newspaper. She tilted the lens upward a little so she could capture the dome too.

  “Kate!” Giuliana called from the automobile.

  “Yes?” she answered without looking away from the image on her screen.

  “Kate!”

  She pressed the shutter and exposed the glass plate. As fast as she could, she pushed the dark slide back into the holder, closed the camera, and hid it behind her back as she whirled around, half expecting to see soldiers.

  Wide-eyed and even paler than before, Giuliana pointed at something to the left.

  Kate peered across Larkin Street to where Giuliana was pointing—and froze.

  The spire of St. Ignatius Church, one block away, was engulfed in flames, looking like a torch. The wind blew coin-sized embers toward them. Sparks drifted down onto the huge roof of the Mechanics’ Pavilion. The dry wood shingles were smoking, and some had already caught fire.

  Suppressing a curse, Kate shoved the camera back into the carrying case and jumped behind the wheel. “Hold on!” she shouted to Giuliana, who had moved to the passenger seat.

  Within seconds, they were speeding toward Lucy’s improvised hospital.

  * * *

  When they jumped down from the automobile in front of the Mechanics’ Pavilion, orderlies were unloading two new patients from an ambulance.

  Giuliana grabbed the sleeve of one orderly. “No. Take them to other hospital.”

  “There is no other hospital, miss,” he answered. “St. Luke’s has collapsed, and several other hospitals had to be evacuated because of the fires.” He tried to wrench free of her grip, but Giuliana held on.

  “Look! The roof burns!”

  The orderly glanced up and blanched. “Get them back into the ambulance!” he called to his colleague.

  Kate and Giuliana left them at the door and rushed inside. All of Giuliana’s muscles had stiffened up, and she realized she was limping a little.

  “Are you all right?” Kate asked.

  Lips pressed together, Giuliana nodded. “Only a little…” She searched for the right word. “I feel like an old woman.”

  Kate switched her carrying case to her other hand and offered Giuliana her arm to hold on to.

  Gratefully, Giuliana clutched Kate’s forearm and looked around the pavilion.

  The huge structure had filled up since this morning. Row upon row of cots, mattresses, and improvised bedding were laid out on the floor, each of them occupied by a patient. There had to be hundreds of them. Their moans and pained cries echoed from the vaulted ceiling. The metallic odor of blood and the stench of burned flesh hung in the air. Nurses with Red Cross badges and priests made their way from cot to cot, administering medicine and giving comfort to the injured.

  How many of them wouldn’t survive an evacuation?

  Kate opened her mouth, drawing breath, probably about to shout out Fire!

  Quickly, Giuliana clutched a hand over Kate’s mouth. “No! They will be afraid and run without their heads, like the steers.”

  Kate stiffened and then went slack beneath her palm. She nodded as a sign that she understood.

  Slowly, Giuliana withdrew her hand. “We go find Lucy. She will know what to do.”

  They found her feeling the pulse of a patient who had a bone sticking out of his flesh. The operation table was drenched in blood.

  A wave of nausea swept over Giuliana. She pressed a hand to her mouth and looked away.

  After a second, Lucy shook her head at the two nurses waiting next to her.

  Orderlies came and took the patient away while Lucy stared after them.

  “Dr. Sharpe,” Kate said quietly.

  Lucy turned around. The formerly white apron she wore over her clothes was dotted red like that of a butcher. Her green eyes had darkened to the color of moss in a shady forest, but when she saw them, she managed a smile. She looked them up and down with a practiced gaze as if trying to find out if they needed medical help.

  Giuliana stepped closer. “The roof burns,” she whispered so only Lucy could hear.

  “What?”

  “The roof b—”

  “I heard you. Dammit.” Lucy waved over the two nurses. “Listen
carefully, and whatever you do, don’t panic. The building is on fire. We have to evacuate.”

  “But…but, Dr. Sharpe, we have four hundred patients, some of them in critical condition,” one of the nurses stammered.

  “It can’t be helped. But we can’t afford a panic. Quietly tell the doctors, the nurses, and the volunteers. Tell them to calmly start bringing patients out. Pull them toward the Polk Street exit on their mattresses. Begin with those closest to the doors.”

  “But where should we take them?”

  Lucy rubbed her chin, leaving behind a streak of red. “I think the Children’s Hospital is still safe. And I hear the army is setting up a makeshift hospital in Golden Gate Park and one in the Presidio.”

  Within a minute, the mattresses were starting to line up in front of the rear doors.

  It was such a long line of patients that Giuliana was sure they’d never get them all out in time before the hospital burned down. But then volunteers streamed through the door—policemen, neighbors, even a few nuns. Four men took hold of each mattress and carried the patient out. Others were placed on stretchers.

  Smoke filtered in through the roof. The smell brought Giuliana back to her collapsed boardinghouse, with the fire licking at her feet.

  A loud shout from a sweating orderly jerked her back to the present. “Dr. Sharpe! We’re running out of stretchers!”

  Lucy looked up from the patient she’d readied for transport. Her gaze darted around. “Take down the shutters from the windows. They can serve as improvised stretchers. Use the doors too if you have to.”

  How calm she stayed! Giuliana wished Kate had time to take a photograph of Lucy as she worked to save her patients, but she and Kate had their hands full helping to get out the injured and the medical equipment.

  Ash drifted down from the rafters, and the air in the pavilion quickly heated up.

  Sweat poured down Giuliana’s back as she helped push mattresses to the door. Her aching body objected to every movement, but fear helped her push through the pain.

  She caught a glimpse of several soldiers outside, who seemed to have confiscated every automobile and horse-drawn wagon in the vicinity. Vehicles sped off with patients on board, carrying them to safety.