Earthquake (9 page)

“Dai Yue.”

He reached for her but she spun away from him, bumping into a man carrying a crate of frightened doves. The birds fluttered and the man cursed her without really looking at her. She backed away from him, her eyes still on Brendan.

“I won't leave you here.”

Dai Yue began to shake. The trembling rose from her legs and into her belly and it took a few moments for her to realize that it was not just inside her. The city was quivering again. Bricks fell into the crowd. The soldiers across Powell Street looked up from their
spilled liquor and scowled, waiting for the tremor to stop. When it did, Brendan spoke.

“I won't leave you and I can't carry you. You have to come on your own.”

Dai Yue met Brendan's eyes. Her home had been in Chinatown, with her uncle, with her people. If she went with this Fon Kwei boy now, her ancestors would not forgive her. They would no longer watch over her bed at night, they would no longer protect her. How could she do such a thing? She sat down beside her uncle and closed her eyes.

◊ ◊ ◊

Brendan stood, astonished. The smoke was so heavy that a false dusk dimmed the streets. He looked longingly down Clay Street in the direction they had been headed. On the horizon there was a patch of blue sky. He took a few steps toward it, then stopped. He glanced back. People were stepping around Dai Yue and her uncle's body, barely glancing down.

Brendan forced himself to walk on. He knew what it felt like to have no one to depend on, no place to call home. It would be even worse for Dai Yue. Not only was her uncle dead, but her home was going to be nothing but ashes. Her people would be scattered and
she would be lost and afraid outside of Chinatown.

Turning so quickly that he almost ran into a young couple, Brendan started back. It was hard to see in the smoky light. Coughing, he wove in and out of the mass of people clogging the street and jumped back up onto the sidewalk at the corner.

“Dai Yue!” She looked up at him, her eyes dull. Although there was fire all around them, Brendan could see no light in Dai Yue's eyes. Looking past her Brendan saw that the smoke from Chinatown was darker now. Flames climbed the frame buildings. He reached down and took her hand. She got to her feet, her eyes still dull. But she followed when he led her to the far side of Clay Street. He didn't want her to have to see her uncle's body again.

They walked for nearly a half mile before Brendan loosened his grip on Dai Yue's hand. As they walked, the tall buildings lining Clay Street gave way to smaller businesses, then grand homes that sat in the center of wide lots. They were going uphill now. Brendan kept a careful eye on Dai Yue. She shuffled along, her eyes on the cobblestones.

Brendan kept glancing over his shoulder. As they got farther from the flames, people calmed down
a little. He could hear conversations on every side. People were trying to decide where to go.

Brendan glanced at Dai Yue. “I wonder what will happen to everyone.” Dai Yue did not answer. Brendan waited, but she didn't even look up at him. “I mean, I wonder if people will rebuild their houses and their shops or if they will just leave San Francisco now.”

Dai Yue lifted her eyes. He was never sure how much of what he said she understood. She met his eyes for a moment, then looked aside.

“These were beautiful homes,” Brendan said. He gestured.

This time Dai Yue nodded, a motion so slight that he wasn't sure he had really seen it.

As they came up the hill to Post Street they passed three or four palm trees on the right side of the road. An ornate iron fence topped with spikes marked the edge of some rich man's domain.

“I want a house like that someday,” Brendan said without thinking. Then he laughed. “Well, I'd prefer it to have more than one wall standing.” He looked at Dai Yue out of the corner of his eye. He thought he saw her smile.

The chimneys were still standing upright.
There were four. Brendan tried to imagine a house with even one hearth that grand. It was hard.

“My cousin was houseboy,” Dai Yue said suddenly. She pointed down a side street. “Before he die.”

Brendan waited, hoping she would say more, but she did not. Still, a little light seemed to be coming back into her eyes. “Your cousin worked in one of these houses?”

Dai Yue ducked her head in a quick nod. “Houseboy.”

Brendan just wanted her to keep talking. Anything was better than her silence. He was trying to think of something else to say when explosions from Chinatown made them both turn to look. The flames were flashing from the walls of smoke now. It was hard to tell exactly where the fires were—but they were spreading, growing into a solid line that advanced steadily.

“I not have home.”

Brendan heard the desolation in her voice—and he recognized it. “I felt that way when my pa died. But it works out.”

Dai Yue turned without speaking and started walking again. Her long trousers were torn and soiled. Although she took small steps, she walked quite fast.

Brendan had to run a little to catch up. “It does get better, Dai Yue. You will start to figure out your own life.”

She looked up at him.

“I mean you will decide what you want to do.”

Dai Yue shook her head. “I want nothing.”

Brendan made his way around a pile of crumbled brick. “You won't feel that way forever.”

Dai Yue didn't respond. She began to walk faster. Brendan could feel a little breeze starting up behind them. He glanced back toward the fires. If the wind came up, they would spread even faster. He could see the Fairmont Hotel off to the right. It looked even bigger than it usually did because so many of the buildings that stood around it had collapsed.

Brendan lengthened his stride a little, to keep up with Dai Yue. His legs felt heavy. It was hard to continue putting one foot in front of the other. He tried to swallow, feeling the dryness of his throat and the emptiness of his belly. His hunger was painful.

It had been a long time since he had been this hungry. He hated it. It reminded him of that first awful year after his father had died. He had been nine and scrawny. No one had wanted to hire him. Old man
Hansen had caught him going through a trash barrel and had put him to work sweeping floors.

Dai Yue was still walking fast. She looked so sad that Brendan wished he could think of something to say to her. But what? He knew what she was feeling, and he knew that a few words wouldn't help. The bandage on his head had loosened. He unwound it, then touched his temple. The bleeding had stopped. He let the bloody strip of Dai Yue's tunic fall from his hand.

Behind them, a sudden clatter of hooves rang out on the cobblestones. Brendan heard someone shout, curse. A soldier on horseback was forcing his way through the crowd. He spurred his mount forward as people pushed each other, trying to get out of his way.

When the soldier neared the corner he reined in and dismounted. Brendan watched him pull a sheet of paper and a hammer from a pouch tied to his saddle. Clenching nails in his teeth, he hung the sign from the wooden pole that supported the electrical wires.

Brendan pulled Dai Yue with him as he veered to join the group of men who stood in a loose half circle in front of the notice the soldier was posting.

“This is crazy,” a man said from in front of Brendan.

“It makes Schmitz king of the city,” another put in.

A third man was shaking his head. “Schmitz is a good mayor. He's only doing what he has to.”

The first two men moved away so that others could see. Brendan stepped up, waiting his turn. The soldier was remounting, his horse stamping impatiently, eager to be free of the press of people. Two more men finished reading. Now Brendan could see the notice:

“What it says?” Dai Yue asked as Brendan led her back through the people who had gathered around the notice.

“It says the same thing the soldiers were shouting this morning. Anyone who tries to steal will be shot.”

“Shot?” Dai Yue looked startled.

Brendan nodded. “Shot. And the streetlights aren't going to come on tonight. It says we are supposed to stay home.”

“Home?”

Brendan shrugged. How could people stay home when their houses had been burned to the ground? He began to laugh. It hurt, but he could not stop. Dai Yue was looking at him strangely. He saw a man glance in his direction. But still, he could not stop laughing—until he started to cry. Dai Yue stood beside him, silent, holding his hand. When he could, he pulled in a long breath and they started walking again.

“Children!”

Dai Yue spun around, recognizing Miss Agatha Toland's voice. She was coming toward them, walking as fast as she could. She was still pulling the child's toy wagon that held the gray parrot's cage. The big bird paced on its perch, tilting its head one way, then the other. It whistled.

Miss Toland stepped toward them. “What are you two doing here all alone?”

Dai Yue looked at Brendan, hoping he would speak for them both. It was so hard for her to find the strange Fon Kwei words in her mind. It was as though they swam away from her, slippery and elusive.

“We've just been walking. . . .” Brendan shook his head in wonderment.

Dai Yue saw Miss Toland smile. “I thought I'd go to the camp they're setting up in Lafayette Square until they let me go home. No one seems to know what the fires will do. This whole city is going to be reduced to tents and makeshift shelters in the blink of an eye.”

Dai Yue looked at her. Miss Toland's clothing was smeared with dirt. Her hair was still spiky and uncombed. It had gained a thin coating of ash.

“We need to find something to eat,” Brendan said.

Dai Yue felt her stomach cramp as she thought about food.

“Come with me,” Miss Toland said. “There will be breadlines later in the day, or maybe the soldiers will let me go back home. You would be welcome there.”

Dai Yue looked up at her and noticed for the first time how exhausted she looked. The wagon was heavy, the hills were steep, and Miss Toland was not young.

“I appreciate your help with Caruso.”

At the sound of his name the gray parrot stretched up, arching his neck. “Caruso is a great singer,” he said.
Then he tipped his head back and sang a few high, shimmering notes.

Dai Yue touched the bird through the cage bars. It was hard to believe that a creature could make such human sounds.

“I guess we could go to Lafayette Square,” Brendan said to Miss Toland.

The old woman smiled and shifted her gaze to Dai Yue. “And you, child? Will you come?”

Dai Yue hesitated, then nodded. She had nowhere else to go. Brendan bent to pick up the wagon handle. Dai Yue positioned herself behind the wagon and together they started off. Miss Toland led the way, her head held high and her dirty ruffled dressing gown swirling around her feet with every step.

They walked for a long time. Clay Street remained crowded, but there were long stretches without much rubble or fallen brick. The cable car tracks were broken in places. They had to make their way around mud sloughs created by broken water pipes.

Dai Yue's back began to hurt a little from bending over, but she did not straighten. She could feel the Fon Kwei eyes as people noticed her. It had to look strange, she thought. A Chinese girl pushing a wagon
pulled by a Fon Kwei boy. The parrot sidled to the back of its cage, studying her as the wagon rolled along.

“I am hungry,” she whispered to it. The bird cocked its head, staring at her. “Maybe I eat you.” The bird squawked as if it had understood and Dai Yue glanced over the top of the cage at Miss Toland's back, but the old woman did not turn.

“I sorry,” Dai Yue apologized to the bird. It paced its perch, pretending not to hear. Dai Yue apologized again, this time speaking in Chinese. “It was only a jest,” she explained. “You take everything far too seriously.” Dai Yue smiled, enjoying her game of conversation with the bird.

Dai Yue raised her eyes once more, wishing she could speak more of the Fon Kwei language, could share the joke with Brendan. She looked over the top of the birdcage, then past Brendan and past the straight back of Miss Toland. What she saw made her stomach turn cold.

A few blocks ahead, Clay Street ended at the edge of a square. There were hundreds of people already there, swarming like insects over the grass, settling onto the ground beneath the trees.
The crowd scared Dai Yue. The Fon Kwei soldiers scared her even more. As she watched, one of them pushed an elderly Chinese man along, saying something that she could not hear.

There were dozens of men in dark uniforms. They carried long-barreled guns and were shouting to each other. Dai Yue could only understand a little of what they said.

“Dai Yue, what's wrong?” Brendan had turned around to look at her. Dai Yue did not remember straightening up, letting go of the wagon. Brendan was gesturing, trying to get her to catch up.

Dai Yue knew that she could not face so many shouting Fon Kwei. She turned and began walking away. She heard Brendan calling her name. She heard Miss Toland asking her where she was going. She endured the curious stares of the people on the sidewalk. But she did not stop. She could not stop.