Earthquake in the Early Morning (3 page)

A cloud of dust billowed around Jack. He could hardly breathe. He couldn't see. But he could hear Annie coughing.

Jack opened his mouth to call to her. But dust filled his throat.

“Jack!” Between coughs, Annie shouted his name. “Jack!”

“I'm here!” he said hoarsely.

“I think I'm in trouble,” she said.

Jack tried to sit up. He hurt all over. His
clothes were ripped and covered with dirt. His cap was gone.

“Where
are
you?” he called.

“Here!” said Annie.

Jack started to stand. But he fell down again. His legs were like rubber.

“Wh-where?” he repeated. Jack cleaned his glasses, then looked around. But he still couldn't see Annie through the thick haze of dust.

“I fell into the ground!” said Annie.

Jack crawled in the direction of Annie's voice.

“Keep talking,” he said.

“Here”—she coughed—“here!”

Jack felt a ledge with his hands. He looked down into a huge crack in the street. Through the dust, he could see Annie right below him.

“You found me!” she said between coughs.

“I'll pull you out,” said Jack.

He grabbed Annie's hands. He tried to pull her out of the crack, but she was too heavy.

“I can't do it,” he said.

“Bring me something to stand on,” Annie said. “Maybe I can get out by myself.”

Jack stood up and stumbled away from the crack. He gathered an armload of bricks. Then he went back to the crack and handed them down to Annie, one by one.

Annie carefully stacked the bricks on top of each other.

“I need more,” she said.

Jack ran to get more bricks. He was afraid there'd be another earthquake and the crack would close—with Annie inside!

He handed the bricks down to her.

“Hurry!” he said.

“I'm hurrying,” she said.

At last, Annie finished stacking the bricks. She stood on the stack. With her bare hands, she slowly pulled herself up.

Jack helped her stand. She was covered with dirt. Her stockings were torn. Her knees were skinned.

“Are you hurt?” Jack asked.

“A little scraped,” said Annie. “How about you?”

“A little shaky,” said Jack. Actually, he was
very
shaky.

“Me too,” said Annie.

“I think San Francisco just had a really huge earthquake,” Jack said. He coughed. His throat was clogged with dust.

Annie coughed, too.

“What's the book say?” she said.

Jack pulled his research book out of his leather bag. His hands were trembling. He could hardly turn the pages.

“I'll find it,” said Annie. She took the book
from him and found a picture of a torn-up street.

She read aloud:

“No wonder we feel shaky,” said Jack.

“I wonder if a lot of people got hurt,” said Annie.

They looked around. Through the dust-filled air, families were stumbling out of their crumbling houses. They all were barefoot and still wore their nightclothes.

Some babies and small children were crying. But strangely, the grown-ups were all
silent. They just stared at the torn-up street and crumbling houses.

“Everyone must be in shock,” said Annie.

“I know how they feel,” said Jack. He gazed at the rubble all around them. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't think clearly.

Annie looked at the book again. She read aloud:

“That's terrible,” breathed Jack.

In the distance, a cloud of black smoke was rolling through the sky.

“The fires are starting!” said Annie.

“Maybe we should leave,” Jack said in a panic. He wanted to get out of San Francisco before the fires spread.

“We can't,” said Annie. “We have to find our special writing for Morgan's library,
something to lend
.”

“Let's find it fast,” said Jack.

He and Annie started walking through the rubble. They stepped over piles of bricks, chunks of concrete, and broken glass.

They passed fallen lamps and twisted trolley-car tracks.

They saw houses leaning to one side and people hauling their things out to the street.

“We can't worry about our mission now,” Annie said. “We have to help.”

“Help? How?” said Jack. He was so shaky, he didn't think he could be much help to anyone.

“What about them?” said Annie.

She pointed to some men frantically dragging bags out of a building and piling them into a horse-drawn wagon.

Annie ran over to the wagon.

“What are you doing?” she asked the men.

“We're trying to get these bank bags down to the harbor,” said the wagon driver. “So a boat can take them out into the bay.”

“Why?” asked Jack.

“So we can save everyone's money from the fires!” the man said.

He pointed at the sky. The cloud of smoke was growing bigger and blacker.

“Can we help?” asked Annie.

“We're done,” said the driver. “You kids run home to your parents. Then get out of the city.”

Jack wished he and Annie could ride with the driver down to the bay and be safe from the fires, too. But he could see the wagon didn't have room for them.

“Good luck!” said Annie.

“Don't forget what I told you!” the driver said. Then he and his horses took off. The wagon turned onto the main street and disappeared over the hill.

“I wonder who we
can
help?” said Annie.

Jack took a deep breath.

“I don't know,” he said. “Maybe I'll take some notes.”

Jack pulled out his notebook. In wobbly handwriting, he wrote:

“Hey, what's the story?” a woman asked. Her voice sounded urgent.

Jack looked up.

A man and woman stood in front of them. The woman wore a long dress and carried a notebook. The man wore a suit. He carried a big camera and a three-legged stand.

“What story?” said Annie.

“The story with the bank. My name's Betty. I'm a reporter,” said the woman.

“For television?” asked Annie.

“What's that?” said Betty.

“Never mind,” said Jack. He whispered quickly to Annie, “She's a newspaper reporter. TV hasn't been invented yet.”

“Oops,” said Annie.

“So what's the story with the wagon that just left the bank?” Betty asked Jack and Annie.

Jack looked down at his notebook.

“They're going to save the money by taking it to the bay and putting it on a boat,” he said.

“Good reporting work, sonny!” she said. “Get a picture of the bank, Fred.”

The photographer set his camera on the stand. He put his head under a black curtain and took a picture.

“Got it,” said Fred.

As the photographer packed up his equipment, Betty turned to Jack and Annie.

“Go home and get your parents, kids,” she said. “Fires are burning out of control.”

“We know,” said Annie. “By the end of three days, the fires will burn down nearly all of San Francisco.”

Betty looked curious. “How do you know that?” she asked.

“She's just guessing,” Jack said quickly.

“Pretty gloomy guess,” said Betty. “Tell your folks not to catch the ferry. Thousands are crowding into the ferry building. Go to Golden Gate Park.”

“Thanks for the tip,” said Annie.

“Thanks for the story,” said Betty. Then she and Fred hurried away.

Jack and Annie looked around.

Now many people seemed to be fleeing their homes. Some were going up the hill. Some were going down.

An old woman was pushing a wheelbarrow filled with pots and pans. A girl was carrying a suitcase and a cat. A boy was carrying a birdcage and a fishbowl.

“They're all going in different directions,” said Annie.

“I wonder where Golden Gate Park is,” said Jack. “Maybe we should go there. Let's see if there's a map in our book.”

Jack looked in their research book. He found a map of San Francisco.

“Where are we now?” he said.

As he looked for a street sign, he saw a man carrying an armload of books out of a beautiful building. The man put the books into the back of a horse-drawn wagon.

“What's
he
doing?” asked Jack.

“I bet he's saving those books,” said Annie.

“Saving books?” said Jack. He loved books. For a moment, Jack forgot his fears. He forgot about trying to save himself.

“We'd better help,” he said. “Come on!”