by Lyn Cote
“Susan!” he called over and over. “Del! Meg, are you in there?” No answer came. He hesitated to venture inside for fear being injured and unable to care for Cecy. At last, he fell silent, baffled, unable to think.
“They’re gone,” a feeble voice called from across the street. “I saw what happened.” It was Mrs. Hansen, who lived across the street and who’d let Cecy stay with her. The white-haired grandmother, still dressed in her frayed print nightgown, stood in front of her leaning red-brick house.
Linc raced to her. “Where did they go?”
Mrs. Hansen paced the crumbled sidewalk. “Everybody went off to Golden Gate Park. Don’t they know—”
Linc interrupted, “Did you see my daughter and the others?”
“They went with everyone else.” She motioned vaguely toward town. “I saw your colored woman run out with a child in each hand. Into the street. Things were falling—”
“But they were all right?” Linc wanted to shake the answers out of her. But she already looked as frail as a leaf.
She nodded. “You lost your Chinaman.”
“What?” He whirled about and tried to detect any sign of his houseman.
“Your Chinaman ran out the side door. The roof came down right on him. I yelled, ‘Wagstaff’s Chinaman is under the roof!’ The men tried to move it, but couldn’t. They called and called. He didn’t answer.”
Disoriented, stunned, Linc turned to go, then paused. “You want to go with us?”
“No. I’m not leaving my home over some earthquake.”
Though the woman chattered on, Linc hurried back to Cecy. “Did you hear?” He pulled her up by both hands and hugged her. Just touching her bolstered him.
“Yes, she said they are safe. But Kang’s dead.” Her voice broke.
Linc tried to think of what do if it were true that Kang indeed lay dead under the roof. But Linc’s normal emotions had deserted him. I suppose I’m in shock, too. He looked into Cecy’s face. What was she thinking, suffering? But he couldn’t ask. They had to survive. They would talk later after…
“What are we going to do?” Raising her head, Cecy felt along his arm until she found his jaw, then cupped it with her hands.
He leaned his forehead against hers. “We’ll go to Golden Gate Park. That’s where people are headed—”
A terrible groan rippled through the air. The street under their feet began to roll again. The houses swayed, creaking, moaning, howling in protest. Linc threw his arms around Cecy. The old woman screamed. The rolling stopped. Bricks crashed to the pavement and rolled down the hill. Choking dust billowed upward. Linc was afraid to move. Would it start again? Was it just an aftershock or the prelude to another full-blown quake?
“Help!” Mrs. Hansen called. “Oh!” Her hands on her breast, she collapsed.
Pulling Cecy with one hand, Linc dashed to her side. She was gasping and pressing down on her breast.
He let go of Cecy and held the woman. He felt her stiffen, then go limp. He felt for her pulse. There was none. “She must have had a heart attack. And died.” He lowered Mrs. Hansen to the pavement. Gone. “Stay here,” he told Cecy. He ran into her precariously listing house, spotted a gray blanket over a chair, swept it up and ran back to Cecy. Kneeling beside the woman, he gently draped the blanket over her. He rose, bringing Cecy up with him. He bowed his head. “God, I commend to Your care Mrs. Hansen and our dear friend, Kang.” He forced out each painful word. “Amen.”
He took Cecy’s arm and headed down the hill. With every glance at the towering “smoke stacks” downtown, he felt his anxiety surge again, again.
“Are we still going to Golden Gate Park?” With her free hand, Cecy pushed ineffectually at the fly-away hair around her face. Her off-white driving hat had fallen backward and hung by its ribbons around her neck, bouncing with each step.
He wished he could shield her. Danger lurked only a heartbeat away—armed soldiers, fire, and aftershocks. “Yes, I just hope they are there.” He hugged her; then they set off. An explosion. Cecy cried out.
In the distant downtown below them, a scarlet flash of fire and a new spout of smoke ascended. The sight hit Linc like a mallet. “Dear God, they’re dynamiting.”
Wild gold-red fire raged along Market Street. Hot wind, ash, and sparks whirled high on scorching updrafts. Hearing soldiers coming, Linc towed Cecy to a gap between two buildings, not yet aflame. He pressed a hand over her mouth. The soldiers marched closer. He pushed Cecy into a doorway and froze.
“Hey, you!” A voice boomed in the street behind him.
Oh, Lord, don’t let it be me he wants. But Linc didn’t move a fraction of an inch though Cecy shuddered against him.
“Come out of that building with your hands up. Or we’ll shoot.”
A man’s heated denial. A volley of shots. Crackling flames muffled the sounds. Boots marched away. After several moments, Linc eased out of the doorway though he still pressed Cecy into its shelter. A quick glance told him the soldiers had passed.
“Let’s go.” Then he halted as a stream of squealing rats, the size of alley cats, raced just inches from their feet. The Barbary Coast and Chinatown were famous for underground passages and their inhabitants, these rats. Now they were fleeing just like the humans. “The army should be shooting them. There’s sure to be plague.”
“What?” Cecy asked, her teeth chattering audibly. Her blindness must be doubling, tripling her fear. Leading her away by hand, he thanked God she couldn’t see the fresh corpse of the poor looter lying in the street. In fact, her blindness had been an unexpected protection. She hadn’t been forced to witness bodies lying lifeless in the streets or tossed like debris into fires. Life was cheap today in San Francisco. This day in San Francisco anything could happen. He fought the foreboding that crouched at the back of his heart and mind.
Now when dynamite was detonated, the past and present fused in his mind. In Chicago, the firemen had known how to use dynamite to create firebreaks. Linc knew for a fact the firemen here didn’t. Why was Sullivan allowing this? With one eye on the smoke, he trudged along leading Cecy to Golden Gate Park. Would Meg, Del, and Susan be there? Inside he repeated, “Keep them safe. Keep us safe.”
He’d never felt so removed from divine care. Shouldn’t he feel closer to God now—when he needed Him so? His fear grew despite his prayers. I believe, Lord. Help, Thou, my unbelief.
Skirting Union Square, Linc and Cecy stopped. Refugees in all types of dress and undress loitered around an informal soup kitchen. The orange sun, though obscured by the smoke, dust, and flame, had begun its descent in the western sky.
“Is that coffee I smell?” Cecy asked in a wondering tone. “I’m so thirsty.”
And just like that, his hunger and thirst came alive. He led Cecy to the line.
“Hello, lady and gent, how about a cup of coffee? And some bread?” His face blackened by smoke, a man tore pieces from a long loaf of bread.
Linc gladly accepted two tin cups filled with the muddy brew and two large hunks of bread. “We haven’t eaten anything today.”
“Don’t mention it. This won’t last much longer. Fire is getting close.”
“Thank you,” Cecy said as Linc led her to an open spot on the curb. Linc settled Cecy at his side. The strangers around them sat silently eating and drinking. It was eerie. We’re all sleepwalkers in a nightmare.
When they finished, Linc helped her to her feet. “Not too much farther till we get to the Park.” Boom! Another explosion. Glaring, red flames shot skyward only blocks away. Fiery sparks and cinders, some the size of silver dollars, showered down, dispersing the panicked crowd. Linc ran with Cecy holding his hand. Up ahead, he saw another squad of soldiers. To avoid them, he rushed down a side street. “I never thought I’d be running from U.S. troops.”
A huffing man running beside them gasped out, “They’re not all regular troops. Some are National Guard—just young college kids pressed into service for the emergency.” Since Linc had to run slow
er because of Cecy’s still hesitant gait, the man sped ahead of them. Seeking shelter while they caught their breath, Linc led Cecy behind a destroyed storefront. He gasped for breath.
“Linc.” Cecy pulled his coat. “I hear something.”
“What?”
She held her finger to her lips. A faint sound blew to them on the wind. “I think it’s a child crying.”
Linc strained, listening in spite of the steadily increasing roar of the approaching fire. He could barely hear it. But it was real. “Come on.” He picked his way through the wreckage, keeping Cecy behind him. The sound, insistent but faint, led them to a house whose roof had caved in. “The sound is from in there.”
“Go see what it is,” Cecy urged.
Linc hung back. Cecy, blind, had missed the ghastly sight of hands and legs protruding from under wreckage which he had seen all that day. He fought revulsion. With the consuming flames advancing, he didn’t want to abandon some helpless soul trapped beyond human help. He couldn’t face it. The pitiful whimper beckoned again.
“Go!” She pushed him.
“Stay here.” He picked his way through the shattered wood, plaster, broken glass. Then he saw her. A young woman was pinned under a beam. crushed, lifeless. Dear God. The whimper came again. He knelt and looked under a nearby heap of smashed boards. A cradle turned on its side had formed a protection. The whimper was an exhausted infant’s cry. The poor baby must have been alone since the early morning quake. Pity wrung his spirit.
In the cramped quarters, he got down on his belly. Reaching cautiously, not to disturb ravaged beams and make them shift, he snaked his arm along the floor. Shards of glass, pushing up under his sleeve, scored his arm. Gritting his teeth, he touched a corner of a blanket with his thumb and index finger. He dragged it. He saw the baby, not more than a few months old, on the blanket. Slowly, slowly he inched the blanket until the child was within his grasp. Rising to his knees, he reached in through the gap and lifted the babe to himself.
“Thank God!” he breathed. The little heart still beat under his hand. Linc stood up. “I’ve got it!”
“Drop it or I’ll shoot!” a harsh voice commanded. “Turn with your hands in the air.”
Linc swung around. A rifle shot.
Chapter 18
Cecy shrieked, “Stop! He went in to save a baby. Linc!”
“Baby? What are you saying?” Rough hands shook her shoulders.
She pounded the stranger with her fists. “We heard a baby crying. Linc went in . .” Screams frothed up from inside her. She pressed her hands over her mouth, holding them back.
The stranger dropped her shoulders. Hasty footsteps. The man’s voice rose in panic, “It is a baby! What have I done? Here let me help you up, sir.”
Linc gasped, “Take care. Think you hit my collarbone. I couldn’t drop the baby—”
“When you spun around so quick, I thought you were going to shoot.” The young soldier helped Linc stagger out of the wreckage, still clutching the wailing baby. “They told me to shoot anyone who was looting. I’m so sorry.”
Linc fought faintness and gritted his teeth against the searing pain. “Cecy, are you all right?”
Her hands, outstretched, reached for him. “Don’t die, Linc.”
“Soldier, give her…this baby. She’s blind.”
“I shot a blind woman’s husband.” The soldier cursed himself.
The man folded Cecy’s arms together like a nest and lay the baby there. “Linc, what should I do?” Cecy begged as she clutched the wet, crying baby.
Unable to respond, Linc pressed his hand to the wound, staunching the stream of bright red blood flowing from his shoulder. He slid down on the curb. “You’ll…know…what…to…do. God…”
“Linc?” He didn’t answer her.
Within minutes, she heard a motor squealing to a stop, felt the swoop of air. Hands took her by the arm and hurried her into a car. The young soldier explained, “I’m taking both of you to the military hospital at the Presidio.”
“Linc?”
“Passed out. I laid him in the backseat. Dear God, don’t let him die on me.”
Abandoned in her blackness, Cecy sat on a hard hospital bench, cradling the whimpering infant close. Hysteria simmered inside her. Periodic distant explosions reminded her of the flames devouring the city. Would it drive them into the Pacific? Linc, Linc. The baby in her arms mewled more and more weakly. Would they let the child die? She heard a woman’s footsteps, lighter with tapping heels, coming near. She reached out with one hand. “Please, I’m blind. Help me.”
“What’s the problem?”
In spite of the peculiar hospital odors, Cecy recognized the scent of rosewater. A lady. “Please I need food for the baby, diapers.”
A soft hand touched her arm. “Aren’t you able to nurse?”
“No, we found the child beside its dead mother. The child is growing weaker. Please—”
“A military hospital doesn’t stock infant supplies.”
Cecy pressed her hand forcefully over the woman’s, detaining her. “Could you find a wet nurse?”
“I’ll try.” The woman squeezed Cecy’s hand, then her purposeful steps clicked away.
“Please bring help,” Cecy whispered, biting her lower lip, holding back tears. I can’t give in. If I let go, I’ll start screaming and I won’t be able to stop.
“Ma’am?” A deep voice addressed her. “I’m your husband’s doctor.”
So deep in misery, she hadn’t heard him approach. She looked toward the voice.
“Your husband lost a lot of blood, but we removed the bullet and set his collarbone.”
Oh, Linc, dear one. She swallowed with difficulty. “Linc was shot—”
“I know, by mistake. I’m terribly sorry. But we’re full to bursting already. As soon as your husband comes to, we’ll have to move you both out to a tent. Have faith.” A strong hand squeezed her shoulder; then left her in the darkness alone. A man screamed. She’d never heard men scream until today. Her shaking intensified. Have faith?
“Missus?” a quiet, feminine Chinese voice asked.
“Are you talking to me?” Cecy turned toward the voice.
“Yes, I wet nurse.”
“Thank God.” The child had fallen silent. Had help come in time? “Hurry please.”
Small hands took the child from her. The woman sat down beside her, smelling of burned cloth.
“The fires?” Cecy’s trembling voice revealed her fear.
“You need water.”
Cecy clutched the woman’s cotton sleeve. “Feed the baby.” Then the baby began suckling loudly. Weak with relief, she bent her head into her hands.
Lighter footsteps coming toward her, then the familiar scent of rosewater. “I see the Chinese woman found you.”
Cecy rose, reaching out for the hands of the kind woman. “Thank you.”
The woman held Cecy’s hands. “The doctor told me your husband is about to be brought out on a stretcher. An army nurse will check on him at least once tonight.” She pulled her hands from Cecy. “We’re short of morphine. I’m afraid he’ll have a rough night. But President Roosevelt has ordered the Red Cross on its way.”
“Missus need food, drink,” the Chinese woman said.
The woman touched Cecy’s shoulder. “See that she gets food. I must go.”
Cecy reached out into the empty air. “What time is it?”
“After dark. God bless.”
“Bless you.” Cecy found the wet nurse’s shoulder and squeezed it. “My name’s Cecy. Thank you.”
“I Kai Lin. I happy to feed baby. My baby die in quake.”
“I’m so sorry,” Cecy whispered.
“Very sad day.” The woman’s voice quavered with grief.
A thud of heavy, measured footsteps came toward Cecy. “Ma’am, if you will follow us.”
“Missus. The stretcher here.” The Chinese woman tugged at her arm.
“Linc?” Cecy held her hands out i
n front of her.
A stranger answered, “Yes. Follow us.”
At the sound of the man’s voice, Cecy let Kai Lin lead her away. “Linc? Can you hear me?”
“Yes.” In the dark void, Linc’s voice sounded faint and weak.
Panic hovered over her, threatening her calm. “Where’s your hand?” She held out both her hands into the nothingness. “Please…I need to touch you.”
“Hold up,” a man ordered. “Lady, we’ve got him wrapped tight, both arms pinned down, trying to lessen the pain and not move him. Lower your hand. That’s the stretcher. Do you feel it?”
“Thank you.” The mere contact with the canvas and wood of Linc’s stretcher reassured her. She followed along outside.
The stretcher halted. “Ladies, here’s your tent. Wait outside while we go in and settle him on the cot.”
The stretcher was pulled from Cecy’s hand. Cool night air closed around her. Now everyone was in darkness just like she. With her remaining senses, she tried to take in her surroundings. The smell of burning was everywhere. Many voices, some high, some deep, rose and fell in the background. “Are there a lot of people here?” Cecy asked Kai Lin who pressed close beside her as though afraid they’d be parted.
“Yes, Missus, many people, many tents.”
Cecy heard the men moving about in the tent, then they were back. “He’s out again, but breathing. There are two blankets for you. Be sure to get in line for food—quick. They’re about out of everything.” The men moved away, wishing them well.
“Missus? You bend, please.” The Chinese woman led her inside the low tent.
Cecy held out her hands feeling around for Linc.
“Here, Missus.” The woman took her hand and put it on Linc’s cot.
Cecy knelt by the cot, sliding her hands over Linc’s form covered by the scratchy wool blanket. “How is the baby?”
“Baby fine. I go get us food now?”
“Yes, there is no chair?”
“No chair. Just one cot, two blankets.”
“Could you give me one of the blankets to sit on?” Cecy let Kai Lin help her sit down with a blanket around her. The Chinese woman put the baby into Cecy’s arms. She left with promises to return soon.
