Earthquake (10 page)

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Brendan felt a surge of anger as Dai Yue walked away. Maybe he should have left her alone in Chinatown. Maybe she couldn't understand him well enough to ever really be his friend.

“Did she tell you where's
she going?”

Brendan looked at Miss Toland. “No. I don't know.”

“Where is her family?”

Brendan shrugged, his weariness suddenly settling like a weight on his shoulders. “She has no family. Neither one of us does.”

There was a little silence before Miss Toland spoke. “Shouldn't you try to bring her back?” Miss Toland took the wagon handle from him and nudged his shoulder lightly. “She shouldn't be alone.”

Brendan didn't answer her. She had no idea what he had already done to keep Dai Yue safe. “Maybe she wants to be.”

Miss Toland blinked. “No one wants to be alone, dear boy.”

Brendan glanced back toward Dai Yue. She wasn't running, nor was she dodging through the throng of people. She was simply walking, her head lowered, her shoulders hunched.

“The soldiers probably scared her,” Miss Toland said.

Brendan nodded. He drew in a long breath. He wasn't sure why, but he knew he couldn't just go on with Miss Toland. “I have to go get Dai Yue.”

Miss Toland nodded. “I will be in Lafayette Square.
Perhaps we will meet again.” She pulled a small cloth purse from her bodice and opened it. She took out a dollar and pressed it into his hand. “Thank you kindly for your help.”

Brendan shook his head. “I have no change.”

Miss Toland nodded briskly. “I need none.”

Without another word she stooped to pick up the wagon handle and started off. Caruso spread his wings and laughed, a sound so human that Brendan had to smile. Then he turned to follow Dai Yue.

Working his way to the side of the street, Brendan went fast enough to keep Dai Yue in sight, but no faster. He wasn't at all sure that she would come back with him, or that he had any right to try to make her. The one thing he knew for certain was that he had never been more tired or more hungry in his life. His lips were cracked and he ran his tongue over them, tasting blood.

“You can't go back that way,” a man said, gripping Brendan's shoulders so suddenly that he cried out.

“Let go of me!” Brendan twisted to one side.

The man hung on, forcing Brendan to stand still. “It's suicide to try to get back home now.”

Brendan jerked free and took a step backward,
staring into the man's eyes. “It's none of your business where I go, mister.”

The man shook his head. “What's wrong with you, boy? Can't you tell when someone is trying to help you?”

Brendan didn't answer. He lunged past the man and ran. Dodging in and out of the crowd, he expected to spot Dai Yue at any second. He ran down a hill, scanning the sidewalk ahead of him. The man was right. Almost no one was heading back toward the fires now.

Brendan slowed to a walk again, his breath heaving and painful. The smoke was thick, and it seemed to get thicker with every step he took. He swerved to miss a dead horse, still tangled in its harness. Someone had unhitched the wagon.

“Food here! Food for sale!”

Brendan stumbled to a stop and looked down a side street. Three heavyset men stood in front of a grocery delivery wagon. People were lining up. Brendan sprinted, then slid to a stop behind the third man in line. He felt in his pocket for the dollar Miss Toland had paid him.

Glancing back at the crowds streaming past on
Clay Street, Brendan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then back. “Hurry up,” he whispered under his breath. The man in front of him turned, glaring, then faced front again.

Brendan pressed his lips together. The first man was leaving, carrying a loaf of bread and a can of stew. Brendan's stomach ached imagining how good the stew would taste. The second man took even less time. The third bought only a loaf of bread.

“That'll be a dollar,” one of the big men said.

Brendan froze. Had he heard wrong? Mr. Hansen's bread sold for a nickel a loaf. For a second, Brendan stood still, transfixed by the memory of the wagon he had been driving that morning. Where was it now? Was the nervous mare lying dead under a pile of bricks? And who had the bread? Someone like these three men?

Brendan looked at them as the man in front of him pulled coins from his pockets, trying to make the price. These men weren't bakers, and Brendan was willing to bet they weren't delivery boys either. They were too old, and too muscular. They looked like masons or carpenters or—

“You want to buy something, boy? Get out of the way if you don't.”

Brendan frowned. “How much is a loaf of bread?”

The man repeated the price. Brendan shook his head. “That's all I have.”

“Like I said, boy, make your purchase or get out of the way.”

Brendan clenched his fists, too angry to care what happened. “You stole this wagon, didn't you?”

The man only smiled. “You can't steal from the dead, son. Now get back.”

Brendan stood his ground for a few seconds, then stepped aside. He made his way back onto Clay Street. There would be other people selling food at more reasonable prices. He began to walk, hurrying, silently cursing himself for stopping. Now he might never find Dai Yue.

Dai Yue glanced fearfully at the ground as she walked, edging her way around wagons, handcarts, and the endless river of refugees. Day Leong still trembled with rage. She could feel him writhing beneath the cobblestones even now.

Perhaps if she had immediately gone to the temple and prayed, as she should have done, her uncle would be alive. And who else? Had her cousins in Canton been punished as well? Dai Yue stumbled and staggered a few steps before she could catch her balance.

“Look out, stupid girl!”

A heavyset man shoved her aside. Dai Yue fell sideways and for a terrifying moment she lay sprawled on the cobblestones, her cheek pressed again the earth.
She could see hundreds of dusty shoes, a horse's hooves, a wagon wheel rolling toward her.

“Get up!”

Dai Yue twisted and found herself looking up at a man on horseback. He was frowning.

“I said, get up. Can you understand me?”

Dai Yue rolled to a sitting position. Her lungs ached, the smoke stinging with every breath. Her temple throbbed. Had she hit her head? She couldn't remember. She felt a warm trickle on her face and for a moment she thought she had begun to cry, but when she tried to wipe away the tears, her fingers came away coated with red.

“Are you hurt? Do you speak English?”

Dai Yue looked up into the face of the soldier. People were streaming around his horse, leaving a bare patch of ground just big enough so no one stepped on her.

“Can you get up or not?” It was a demand, not a friendly inquiry. The soldier looked nervous. He glanced over his shoulder, then back at her. A rifle lay across his saddle. Would he shoot her if she did not get up?

Dai Yue struggled to her feet and stood, swaying.
Perhaps the Earth Dragon would writhe again, perhaps the ground would open and she would fall in. Then she would not have to walk another step, would not have to feel the grinding hunger in her belly, would not have to tremble before these Fon Kwei soldiers. The soldier pulled a canteen from his saddle and lifted it to his lips. Watching, Dai Yue swallowed painfully.

“You better find your people,” the soldier said roughly. He pulled his horse abruptly to one side and spurred it forward.

Dai Yue stood unsteadily as the f low of people closed in again, like the current in a stream when a rock is moved. She started walking against the crowd again, this time more slowly. She touched her forehead, then looked at her fingers. There was blood, but it was stickier now and she could no longer feel the warm trickle on her cheek.

Working her way to the sidewalk, Dai Yue found a sheltered doorway and leaned against the brick. She closed her eyes, trying to ease the stinging from the smoke. She stood very still, deliberately slowing her breathing, trying to make sense of her thoughts. She
didn't want to go back toward the camp set up by the Fon Kwei solders. But she had no idea where she should go.

Dai Yue opened her eyes and watched people passing. Some were praying, some crying. There were black-skinned people, whites, Chinese, Japanese, and Mexican—and they all looked the same. Most had faces of stone, their eyes empty of everything but weariness and fear.

“Dai Yue!”

She flinched at the sound her name, the familiar voice. Chou Yee pushed his way toward her. His fleshy face was streaked with sweat and ash.

“Dai Yue, where is your uncle?”

She shrank from his touch, shaking her head. “My uncle has died.”

Chou Yee took her arm. “Then you must come with me.”

Dai Yue freed herself, pressing back against the brick. “I cannot.”

Chou Yee frowned. “Of course you can. You must. A girl cannot walk the streets alone. Have you not seen the soldiers?” He took her hand once more. “We
will marry soon. You can live in my mother's house until the wedding.”

“I do not wish to marry you,” Dai Yue said. Her hand flew to her mouth the instant the words came out. She watched Chou Yee's face, terrified, but he only laughed.

“Many girls feel this way. It is quite common. But your uncle and I reached an agreement about this.”

“He released me. Just before he died, he said I could marry as I choose.”

“This is a Fon Kwei notion. Too many young girls think they know what is best. They do not. You must trust your uncle and trust me.”

“I do not want to marry you. I want—”

“Come, we must get away from the fires.” He pulled her along, guiding her down the street with an iron grip on her wrist. Dai Yue tried to turn back, but he forced her forward again. “Do you want to die in the flames?”

She shook her head, her eyes on the cobblestones. Of course she did not want to die. Did he think her stupid? She tried to find the courage to tell him that she would not marry him, ever. But her voice was trapped by her fear.

“Come along, Dai Yue!” Chou Yee's anger was apparent in his voice. “I do not wish to drag you every step of the way.”

Dai Yue stopped. “I will not go with you.”

His face was hard to see. It was close to sunset and the smoke was a dark ceiling hanging low over the city. When she spoke, she felt his hand tighten painfully on her wrist.

“You
will
come with me. And you must stop this arguing. Your uncle arranged our marriage. It is your duty.”

Dai Yue shook her head and tried to back away. Chou Yee wrestled with her, cursing. People walked around them, few even noticing their struggle.

“Dai Yue!”

She lifted her eyes to see Brendan coming toward her. His pale face shone in the dusky light. Dai Yue met his eyes, wondering if he could tell how frightened she was.

“Let her go!” Brendan shouted at Chou Yee.

Chou Yee straightened and turned to face Brendan. He laughed, then spoke in Chinese. “You are a boy. What are you shouting at me?” Chou Yee looked at Dai Yue. “This Fon Kwei boy knows your name. Why?”

Dai Yue saw Brendan's confusion. “This Chou Yee,” she said in English.

Brendan blinked. “The man you were supposed to marry?”

“Yes,” Dai Yue said.

“But your uncle said you didn't have to. Tell him that. Tell him to let you go.”

Dai Yue drew in a long breath and turned to Chou Yee. “This Fon Kwei boy helped my uncle, then asked for one favor—that I be released from our arrangement of marriage. My uncle granted this before he died.”

“You are lying,” Chou Yee accused.

“Let her go,” Brendan repeated. He stood just beyond Chou Yee's reach.

“Let me go,” Dai Yue said in Chinese.

Chou Yee jerked her forward, shoving Brendan aside. Dai Yue stumbled, pulling Chou Yee off-balance. She fought against his grip but could not break it.

“Let her go!” Brendan shouted.

Dai Yue glanced back over her shoulder. She saw Brendan pick up a brick, then come forward. She lunged sideways. Chou Yee stiffened, his arm
extended almost straight out from his body as he held tight to her wrist.

In that instant, Brendan slammed the edge of the brick across Chou Yee's forearm. Chou Yee screamed and Dai Yue jerked free.

“Run!” Brendan yelled at her, throwing down the brick and racing off.

Dai Yue stumbled forward. The sound of Chou Yee's cursing faded quickly into the din surrounding them, but Brendan did not slow down and Dai Yue tried to keep up with him.

Finally Brendan broke his pace and they walked side by side. For a time Dai Yue's heart was like a freed firefly. Then it began to feel heavy again. The dark was closing in around them. She was dizzy with hunger and thirst.

Brendan turned down a side street. “We need to get back to Lafayette Square.”

Dai Yue pictured the soldiers, their hard faces and their rifles. “I not go,” she said in English.

Brendan stared into her eyes. “Then we have to find someplace else to go. I don't want to be wandering around after night falls.”

Dai Yue let him lead the way. He kept heading uphill, away from the fires. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Dai Yue murmured. But the truth was she was not all right. She couldn't imagine ever being all right again.

Brendan no longer knew where he was. Still, Dai Yue followed him without question, her hand tight on his. She seemed to trust him, and he was praying that he could find a safe place for them to rest for the night. Maybe in the morning light he would be able to talk her into going back to Lafayette Square.

Along the skyline behind them and off to their right, fires burned. The eerie orange glow ebbed, then flared in the darkness. Sometimes they could hear explosions. Strange hot breezes touched his face, then were gone. The smoke was still bad, but it was a little thinner here.