The Americans (46 page)

clerk, shouting questions. He shook his head: "I couldn't see far enough. The rain's too heavy. And there's a lot of white smoke over in Woodvale. But I heard an explosion. Could be the wire works." "Bet you saw steam, not smoke," said the man who'd been crying earlier. "The boilers must have exploded. All that wreckage will be coming down the river into town- we have to get out of here. We have to get out!" He shrieked the last, slumping against the wall with his arms clasped over his stomach. Childlike, he bent his head and sobbed. "Maybe the worst is over-was young Hack began. Jeers and humorless laughter greeted that, but he went on in a dogged way. "No, no, I mean it. The rain's still coming down pretty hard, but the sky isn't so black. Go look for yourselves." It was the first hopeful word they'd heard all day. Men hurried past Eleanor and rushed up the stairs to the roof. Hack went with them. She turned to the window of the little room. In the northwest, boiling black clouds were yielding to gray. Jubilant, she clapped her hands. "Leo, I think Homer's right. The sky's definitely lighter." He pushed himself up from the bed. "Let's go upstairs for a better view." She started to protest but he cut in, "Look, I've been flat on my back for the prescribed length of time. And we'll never reach Altoona tonight, so it hardly matters whether I walk, limp, or crawl the rest of the day." Once on his feet, he slipped his left arm over her shoulder and she put her right arm around his waist. They made their way slowly along the corridor redolent of dust, leaking gas, and wet wool carpet. In a moment, Eleanor felt almost lightheaded with relief. Above herea'the oblong of the doorway at the head of the stairs changed from dark gray to pearl. She helped Leo up the steps. All at once she heard sounds like claps of thunder. Then came another distant howling, deeper than the first. A factory whistle, perhaps. Just as she and Leo reached the top of the stairs, a man began to yell: "Oh my God. Look up there. She gave way. The dam gave way!" Eleanor and her husband staggered into the rain and looked northeast along the steep-sided valley. Dimly at first, then with increasing clarity, she saw a sight so incredible, so numbing to the mind, that it made her bite down on her lip until blood ran. Filling the valley from wall to wall, its noise like that of a runaway locomotive, a foaming rampart of water forty feet high was rushing down on Johnstown. m For a moment everyone on the roof stood motionless, numbed by the sight. From the streets below rose shrieks and shouts. One of the traveling men tugged out his gold turnip watch, as if compelled to fix the exact moment of the catastrophe: "Nine minutes past four. No, make that ten." The man snapped the lid shut and put the watch back in his pocket. He had a curiously peaceful expression on his face. What could be done now? it seemed to say. Everyone shared his silent resignation for a few more seconds. Then the calm shattered. The man who'd cried downstairs turned his back on the moving wall of water and ran, screaming and waving his arms. He failed to see the low roof coping. Still screaming, he stumbled, pitched into space and fell. But even such a calamity could only briefly draw Eleanor's and Leo's attention, so huge and horrifying was the wall of water traveling toward them at incredible speed. iv A few short blasts of factory and train whistles were Johnstown's only warnings that up in the mountains, the earth dam had collapsed beneath the weight of the water behind it. The resulting floodtide, pouring down through nearly fourteen miles of river channel, had wiped out farms, homes, factories, and the Pennsylvania marshaling yards. Eleanor had no knowledge of all that. Yet she was able to understand the enormity of the disaster by looking at the rolling mountain of water-and at what it contained. Appearing and disappearing within it she saw broken timbers that once might have supported bridges or buildings; she saw a big steel boiler with a great hole blown in its side; lengths of iron cable unreeling from tumbling drums and lashing back and forth like fifty-foot whips; the front half of a locomotive thrusting up like a great whale's head, then sinking down again; the shingled roof of a house with two tiny human figures clinging to it; a log jam of uprooted telegraph poles; wheels from farm machinery; bricks, chunks of mortar, pieces of siding and-worst of all-once-animate things. She saw the bloated bodies of calves, hogs, and human beings. The bodies were borne along like limp dolls, sucked under by the current one moment, flung to the surface the next. There were scores of corpses in dist incredible wall of water that shot off smoke and vapor as it inundated everything in its path. The scene might have been conceived by a demented designer of theatrical effects. The water-wall lifted a young woman into view; she'd been impaled through her breastbone by an iron rail and hung dead halfway between the ends. Mercifully, rail and corpse soon sank from sight. When the flood wall encountered the somewhat greater resistance of the larger buildings downtown, the water appeared to split. One branch rushed along the Little Cone- maugh toward the stone railroad bridge; the other surged into the business district. Eleanor was stupefied with terror. The water was now only a few blocks from the hotel. All over downtown Johnstown, on rooftops and in the upper windows of buildings such as the Hulbert House, people stared at the flood wall and knew, as she did, that escape was impossible. The earth seemed to rumble and shake as the water shattered building after building and swallowed the remains. The flood wall was so high, nothing was visible behind it but a few hilltops and the sky. One of the traveling men cried, "Run-run, all of you!" She was tempted to break into hysterical laughter. Run where? And to what purpose, with the churning, foaming apocalypse sweeping down, indiscriminately tossing on its forward crest half a barn, three Pullman cars, a dozen bodies; crushing houses and substantial buildings and grinding them together into wreckage as it roared on- Homer Hack had grown befuddled. He was staggering toward the edge of the roof where the other man had plunged off. The sight of the dazed clerk walking to his death jolted Eleanor back to her senses. But it was Leo who moved first. Despite his injured leg, he lunged and pulled the clerk back from the coping just a step away: "This way, Homer! You can't stay up here-was Hack turned his rain-drenched face toward Leo. "What? What's that?" The young man's eyes were vacant, his mind no longer functioning coherently. Leo grimaced at Eleanor and half-dragged, half-carried the clerk toward the head of the stairs. By the time Leo got there, Eleanor was already shoving frightened men down the steps into the darkness: "Hurry, you've got to hurry-was She could barely be heard. She looked back, and the water seemed to tower to the top of the sky. One calm question flashed into her mind: still wonder if dying hurts very much. "Get in there!" Leo shouted, pushing her. She stumbled down the stairs, her husband and Hack right behind her. All at once Leo lost his footing. He came crashing into her from above as the flood noise peaked, loud as a thousand trains at full throttle. The water struck the hotel and tore it whole from its foundation. Flood Tide AN INSTANT AFTER LEO tumbled against her, Eleanor heard the incredible sound of the flood crest striking the hotel. The building immediately began to tilt, pushed from its foundations by the enormous force of the water. Simultaneously, a great yellow wave came crashing down the stairway from the roof to the lightless hall. "Hang onto me, Leo!" He wrapped his arms around her waist as the wave thundered over them, hurddled them against a wall, and receded for a few seconds. The building kept tilting. The water was knee high, then breast high a moment later. Men screamed, waved their arms, sank from sight. Eleanor saw a flood-borne length of steel cable flick out and touch young Homer Hack's neck, instantly decapitating him. The moment was forever seared into her mind: the boy's head sailing past, mouth and eyes agape. Blood from the severed neck pattered on her hair, her cheeks- "Don't let go, Leo," she screamed as the ceiling collapsed and the walls burst apart, driven outward and shattered by the water that engulfed the hotel and everyone inside.

It took ten minutes for the wall of water to rage through Johnstown, smashing a three-block-wide path to the point of land where the rivers met. The flood demolished building after building, tearing them apart and mingling the debris with that from further uj greater-than the valley. In those ten minutes, courage and resourcefulness had little to do with determining who lived and who died. Some of the bravest perished; some of the most cowardly lived. Most of those who did survive the initial disaster weren't even aware of what happened to them immediately after the flood crest struck. That was the case with the Goldmans. When Eleanor came to her senses, she and Leo were clinging to the top of a four-drawer bureau which bobbed in fast-moving water. Rain and Homer Hack's blood were trickling down her cheeks. The bodice and skirt of her dress were in shreds. Her shoulders ached from clutching the bureau, which had. a familiar look. Hotel furniture, that's what it was. The flood had evidently swept the Goldmans into their room or one like it. They must have grabbed hold of the first solid object they could find. She didn't remember. She looked over her shoulder. The hotel was gone, and-God above-half the downtown as well. In the water she saw cupolas of houses, roofs of Pullman cars, the horns of cows, and pieces of lumber to which men, women and children clung. Some of the survivors were calm but a great many of them were screaming. Hanging onto the other side of the bureau, Leo gasped: "Are you all right?" "I-was She struggled for breath. "I'm alive. That's more than I expected when the water hit." He gulped air and bobbed his head in agreement, trying hard to conceal his terror of the water. The current spun the bureau around and around. But the momentum seemed to be slowing. Eleanor heard a cry of alarm from nearby. Leo pointed past her left shoulder caret She twisted her head till her neck ached and saw a man riding a door as if it were a raft. He cradled an infant in-his arms. The man had called for help because the capricious current was rushing the door straight toward the brick wall of a half-submerged building. Eleanor kicked and paddled, clinging to the bureau and trying to reach the man at the same time. It was no use. The man's face drained of color as the brick wall loomed. Without warning, the gable of a sunken house rose from the yellow water like a ship's prow. The steeply pitched roof pressed upward from beneath the door, tipped it vertically, and hurled the man and the child against the brick wall. The gable pressed in from behind, crushing them. When the current shifted the section of roof away from the wall, Eleanor saw a red paste mingled with scraps of clothing on the bricks. She vomited in the water. "Look," Leo exclaimed a moment later, pointing past the site of horror she'd just witnessed. "Everything's piling up at the stone bridge. Creating a dam-was She turned again, nearly losing her hold on the bureau. She saw sections of buildings being driven against the arches of *the railroad bridge by the water whose height she judged to be fifteen or twenty feet above the Johnstown streets. More timbers, portions of houses, and chunks of wreckage impossible to identify were accumulating behind the bridge like a great log jam. Here and there the Gold- mans spied people clinging to the debris, and calling frantically to others on the hillsides; the lucky ones who'd reached high ground. But far worse than the cries of the survivors in the water were the moans and shrieks of people imprisoned within partially sunken buildings. "Leo-was Eleanor kicked as hard as she could, trying to guide the bureau. Her effort was rewarded. The bureau turned a hundred and eighty degrees, then came to rest in a patch of relatively quiet water. "comwe've got to do something. If we're carried down to that jam, this bureau will break up like matchwood." "Where do you propose that we go? We can't reach the shore, the current's too strong." As he gasped the words, he kept blinking. Heavy spray blew across the surface of the water. Or perhaps it wasn't spray but rain mingled with smoke; there was no way to be sure. But it added a murky distortion to an already unbelievable scene. And over all of it, unforgettable as the sight of Homer Hack's decapitated head, there were the cries: "Help us. Help us down here!" "My grandfather's dying and we can't get out - his "We're trapped in the attic with the red shingles. Can anyone see it? IS ANYONE OUT THERE?" Before Eleanor could answer Leo's question, her hand slipped off the bureau a second time. Terrified, she caught the top, raking her palm on one of the metal drawer pulls as she did so. Threads of blood trailed from her wrist into the water. It was of no importance; the current had caught the bureau and was moving it swiftly again-straight toward the pileup of wreckage at the bridge. Between the bureau and the bridge, she suddenly saw something that offered hope. A half-sunken Pullman car formed a rampart straight ahead of them. The upper halves of its windows were visible above the water. Most of the glass was gone, but not all. Sharp fragments remained in almost every frame- "We must get on the roof of that car," she shouted. But Leo saw the same danger she did. A powerful undercurrent was tugging at them. It might drag them down and hurl them through one of the shattered windows. They could be torn apart on the ragged glass- Still, the car was their only hope. Leo saw that: "All right. Let's try." IV Vision was difficult because of the spuming water and the gloom of the day. It couldn't have been much past four, but the sky was dark and growing darker. Once more the bureau revolved in-a full circle. As it turned, Eleanor saw some people struggling across floating rooftops and jumping yard-wide gaps between them, thus working their way toward buildings left standing near solid ground at one side of the main flood channel. Those people were no more than a half block from the Goldmans, but because of the current, Eleanor and Leo had no chance of reaching safety in the same way. A glance at her husband's face told her how frightened he was. This was turbulent, dangerous water. Deep water. Since Leo couldn't swim it was up to her to make certain he reached the roof of the Pullman car. They were only about fifteen feet from the car now. A whimsical, current sped them toward it more quickly. For the moment, Eleanor's side of the bureau was closest to it. She could feel the current dragging at her skirt and undergarments as the bureau hurtled on. She gauged the narrowing distance carefully. At the critical moment, she used all her strength to lift herself to the top of the bureau. She clung there precariously, praying the bureau wouldn't revolve again. If it did, Leo would be trapped between the side and the car. They were lucky. Her side thumped the edge of the roof. The impact was followed by a prolonged cracking sound. "It's breaking aparti" Leo cried. Eleanor was already clambering from the bureau to the more substantial, if slippery, top of the Pullman car. She dropped onto her stomach, heedless of the way the impact hurt'her breasts. She clung to the edge of the roof with one hand and shot her other one out over the water. The bureau disintegrated. com8Leost" He was already sinking. She leaned out. His wet fingers touched hers, then slipped away. He kicked frantically, not knowing how to propel himself toward her. Three inches separated their outstretched hands. Then four." Five - "Paddle, Leof Cup your hands and pull them down to your sides!" He understood; tried it; made enough headway to reach her wrist, seize it and pull himself to the car. Once he'd taken hold of the roof, he was able to kick against the wall below and throw one knee up and over. She slid backward to give him room. Panting, he clambered to safety. Her arm hurt ferociously because he'd pulled so hard. That didn't matter, though. Nothing mattered except the miracle of their survival. The car seemed buoyant. Or perhaps it was supported from below by other wreckage. Half a dozen boards went floating by, borne toward the debris at the bridge. The rain continued to fall in the near-darkness. But at least they had a respite; a few moments in which to draw air into burning lungs, then crawl toward one another and take comfort in each other's arms. She buried her cheek against his torn and sodden shirt. "My God, Leo," it's beyond belief. It's like hell without the fires." But those were soon to come. They rested five minutes. The screams and entreaties continued. The rain fell and the remaining light faded. The Pullman car had already become part of the jam of debris building behind the upstream side of the bridge. still Other wreckage was collecting there: gutted locomotives, twisted rails, uprooted trees. Some of the debris was literally bound together by steel cable and barbed wire freakishly tightened by the flood. Some open water remained at one end of the car. The entire upper story of a house floated into the space. Just as the house bumped gently against the car, the Goldmans looked at one another: "Voices?" "I heard them too," Leo said, scrambling to his feet and helping her up. In the panic of the last hour he had not given a thought to his injured leg. As they rushed toward the house the voices grew quite distinct. A man's, a woman's, and those of several children comall pleading for help. A gable with horizontal siding was jammed against the end of the car. Leo leaned close to it and called, "We hear you. We'll get you out of there. Just hold on." He began to tear at the siding, but the nails had been well driven. Eleanor added her effort to his. Painful though it was, they managed to squeeze their fingertips beneath one length of siding. Just then something beneath the house collapsed. The gable tilted away from the car, and just as abruptly stopped. If it tilted a few more feet, those inside Would find it impossible to jump to safety. Leo's face dripped with sweat and rain. She saw blood on his fingers where they were wedged beneath the tight- fitting siding. "Pull, Eleanor!" Together they heaved backwards. Then again. And a third time. On the fourth try, nails wrenched with a metallic screech. The end of the board stood out from the wall about two inches. Face close to the gable, Leo shouted, "Listen to me. Can you see any light?" The man's voice: "I can see some between the studding. Not much.** "Well, push against the plank where you see it. All of you push. Hurry. Your house may go down any minute." The man inside issued rapid orders. Soon a series of blows "drove the length of siding outward another four inches. With Leo and Eleanor pulling at the same time, the plank abruptly cracked in the middle. The sudden breaking of the wood sent Eleanor skidding wildly backwards. In a panic, Leo saw that if she didn't regain her balance, she'd tumble into the water. He knew she could swim but that would do her little good. Behind her, at the spot where she would fall, floating strands of barbed wire waited to slash and entangle her. CHAPTER XIV Fire in the Water THE STRENGTH AND CONTROL required for stage movement served Leo well. He lunged forward as if he were Mercutio dueling in front of the footlights, catching Eleanor an instant before she pitched into the water. She rested against him for a moment. He could feel her heartbeat through his soaked shirt. "Don't worry," she gasped, "I'm all right-was Her eyes widened as she saw something beyond his shoulder. "The house is going!" The Goldmans rushed back to the end of the car. The people inside had battered another board halfway off. Leo wrenched it loose and flung it into the water. With frantic pushes and pulls, two more were removed-enough to create an opening between two studs; an opening in which the members of the family could brace themselves before jumping to the Pullman car. In the gloom, Eleanor and Leo made out five people- husband, wife, two small boys, and a girl. The girl might have been twelve, the youngest boy seven or eight. One by one they leaped to safety. Just as the last one, the smallest boy, prepared to jump, the house gave another precipitous lurch. The man shouted for his son to hurry. The boy jumped, barely clearing the strip of water that widened suddenly as the house fell away from the car. The entire upper story quickly sank from sight. The boy snuggled in his father's arms, frightened but trying to smile. "Fine catch, Papa." The father was a stout man with a pasty complexion. Though short of breath, he managed to say to Leo, "Rasmussen's the name, Daniel Rasmussen. You saved our lives. There are no windows in that attic. How can I possibly express-was He was interrupted by a heavy clanging sound. It reverberated across the wreckage and the great expanse of dammed flood water stretching from hillside to hillside. Rasmussen's wife, a small, plain-faced woman, looked upward with a stricken expression. When the mournful bell rang a second time, she burst into tears. "That's our church. The Lutheran church. It's still standing. Why couldn't the church have gone and Mama's house been spared? Why, Daniel?" "Loretta, you don't know that your mother's house is gone." "She's dead. I know she's dead. I should have insisted she move in with us but I didn't and now she's dead, that's why the bell's ringing-was Clang! Echoes of the third note rolled across the valley of the Conemaugh. There was something jarring about a church bell striking the hour in the midst of such carnage. It rang five o'clock quite as if life in Johnstown was proceeding normally. The bell should have been tolling for the dead. How many so far? Eleanor wondered. Hundreds? Thousands, more likely. She noticed Leo watching her, and understood his look of concern. Rasmussen's wife was close to hysteria, and Leo wanted Eleanor to help if she could. She moved toward the small woman: "I know how you must feel, Mrs. Rasmussen. But perhaps your mother is all right, and-was The woman flung off the arm placed around her shoulders. "Don't touch me. Mama's dead." "Even if that's true, it isn't your fault. It's no one's faul-was "Yes, it is! It's Daniel's. I pleaded with him to find a job with another railroad, so we could leave Johnstown and take Mama with us. I begged him. He wouldn't do it. He was wedded to the Pennsylvania, and to this town. For years people have been saying the dam was weak. Now Mama's dead and it's his fault." Loose hair hanging in her eyes, she glared at her husband. Eleanor was eerily reminded of Margaret Kent. Bewildered and frightened, the Rasmussen children watched their mother lurch to the other end of the car where she stood with her back to them, crying. ii M Eleanor knew she'd better leave the woman alone for a little while. She was walking back to Leo, when her expression suddenly brightened. "Look over toward the bank, Leo. That way." She
pointed in a direction she thought was east. "The debris is almost solid from here to the shore. There are some people crossing it right now." His eyes followed her outstretched hand as it pointed upstream about a quarter of a mile. There, two men and a woman were gingerly stepping from one piece of floating wreckage to the next. Sometimes a plank or part of a building sank six or eight inches beneath them. They were forced to proceed with great caution. But while the Gold- mans watched, the three people traveled another hundred feet and one by one jumped to solid ground. Outstretched hands helped them up the hillside in the dusk. Leo turned to Rasmussen. "See how they did that? I think we should try it." Rasmussen's nod was emphatic. "I agree. I don't want to stay out here when it's dark. Not if we can possibly reach the bank-was For a moment he'd managed a touch of enthusiasm. It vanished as his gaze returned to his wife. She was still standing motionless, head down, at the other end of the car. "I'm not sure Loretta can make it, though." Leo nodded. "We'll wait a little. Perhaps she'll calm down." "I'll see what I can do," Rasmussen said. He put his young son down next to Eleanor and walked toward his wife. The level of the water dammed by the wreckage was falling, Eleanor noticed. Falling very slowly, but definitely falling. Upstream, another building toppled with a grinding crash. The noise was becoming familiar; every few minutes, something collapsed. The human cries and groans remained almost constant. Rasmussen's younger son watched his mother and father, tears shining in his eyes. Eleanor stepped in front of the boy to hide the sight of his parents. Then she slipped her arm around the boy's shoulder and drew him to her side. The child huddled against her, grateful for the gentle fingers patting him to soothe away the horror of this day. As if that could be done. As if those who had survived could ever forget the experience. Again her mind showed her the moment in which Homer Hack's severed head went sailing past, spouting blood- Tears came to her eyes. She rubbed them away. Drove the memory from her mind. She mustn't break down. Mustn't feel sorry for herself. She and Leo had survived. Just as important, they were in the open. Scores of others were still trapped in sunken houses and buildings, crying for help that might never come. Though cold and frightened, she struggled to keep a positive frame of mind. If they could reach shore, there'd be plenty of work to be done. She must be part of it. Only work, movement, activity-the effort to help others- would stave off the hysteria lurking at the edge of her mind. She felt no contempt for Loretta Rasmussen. She understood exactly how she felt. Mrs. Rasmussen's overwrought state proved a formidable obstacle to their plan to set out across the dam of wreckage. Her husband spent almost half an hour trying to calm her with words and clumsy caresses. Each time he touched her, she recoiled and demanded that he leave her alone. Over and over, she accused him: "We should have moved, Daniel. We should have moved years ago. My mother died because of you." Defeated, the man finally trudged back to Leo, who was sitting on the roof, resting. "No use," Rasmussen said. "She won't listen, and she won't go." "Then we'd better force her." "Force-?" Leo's mouth had a hard look as he nodded. "What other choice do we have? It's almost dark. Before long we won't be able to see our way to-was There was a sudden boom. A geyser of flame shot from the water a hundred yards comwest of the car. The Rasmussen boy burrowed against Eleanor as the pillar of fire rose skyward, then spread laterally. The flame reached a floating tank car, ate through the wooden exterior, heated the steel inner shell-and the car exploded like a hundred cannons fired together. All of them were spattered by drops of scalding water thrown by the explosion; they felt the fire's intense heat, too. Eleanor's mind could hardly accept this latest shock: "It isn't possible for fire to ignite in water -" "I'm afraid it is, under certain circumstances," Rasmussen said. "The Pennsylvania carries a good many shipments of lime, and lime's combustible when it's slaked with water. That must have been the first explosion. I think the tank car contained crude oil." Flames shimmered in Leo's dark eyes. "Well, I don't give a damn about the cause. I don't propose to stay here and be roasted. Get your wife." "Let me get her," Eleanor said, hurrying down the length of the car. Behind her, she heard the fire roaring as it spread to floating debris. She glanced back and saw the upper floor of a house being consumed. Within the cherry- colored flames, black stick figures ran to and fro, screaming as they were incinerated. Eleanor took Mrs. Rasmussen's arm. "We've leaving. You must come with us." "No!" The sobbing woman clawed Eleanor's wrist and jerked away. The violent motion nearly toppled her into the water. But Eleanor caught her. She slapped the woman's face twice, as hard as she could. "Your husband won't leave without you-and we're not going to allow three children to die because of you. You're alive. Be grateful and come along!" She gave the woman a sharp tug. Together with the slaps, that seemed to jolt her into a semblance of self- control. She didn't resist when Eleanor pushed her toward the others. Leo was showing Rasmussen a possible route to shore. It took them away from the spreading fire, and with luck would bring them to the hillside after they worked their way between two housetops and across a sizable area of lumber and steel cable. By ones and twos, people were carefully crossing that mass of floating material. "I'll go first to test the footing," Leo said. "Each of you take charge of one of the children. Whatever happens, don't let go of them." Eleanor wanted to fling her arms around her husband's neck and kiss him. Fearful as he surely was about the water they were about to traverse, and despite the injury to his leg, he was yet willing to take the lead. And because he was a superb actor, none of the Rasmussens knew how he felt. In fact he seemed to exude confidence- a deliberate attempt to bolster theirs, she was sure. Leo pushed hair out of his eyes and threw her a swift look. The others saw the affection in it; she saw the anxiety. She closed her eyes a moment to tell him she loved him and understood his fear. . He visually measured the distance to the next roof. About three and a half feet. In one easy jump he cleared the flame-reddened water. The roof sank a few inches but bobbed up immediately. Leo turned, widened his stance to brace himself, held out his arms and smiled a dazzling smile: "Send that first youngster over. Thisll be a picnic. Well be on dry land in ten minutes." In that moment, she loved him more than she ever had. Daniel Rasmussen caught Leo's spirit and did his best to convey confidence as he swung his daughter across the water into Leo's strong hands. The way was treacherous but they made progress in spite of it. Leo's prediction wasn't far off the mark. In ten minutes, all that remained between the little band and the hillside was about a hundred feet of lumber and debris entangled with wire, the whole none too firm, Leo warned as he stepped back from testing it. On the far side, four other people were scrambling to shore while a crowd of watchers called encouragement. To the right, a man was working his way across the jam on a path that would intersect theirs. "Ready?" Leo motioned the others forward. They'd crossed twenty feet of wreckage when Eleanor caught her breath. The man she'd noticed was just a few feet from them now. Instantly, she recognized his huge head. So did Leo. The recognition was mutual: "Well, well, look at this. The sheeny."'* The fat man didn't seem the least intimidated by the people accompanying the Goldmans. Scowling, he took a step toward Leo. His right foot slid off a wet, tilting plank but he recovered and planted himself directly in front of Eleanor's husband. The left side of the man's face was cut open; he'd bled all over the front of his suit. He looked less than rational, but that was no wonder, given his temperament and the events of the last few hours. Leo spoke as if he were dealing with a vexing child: "I'd like to settle with you, Kleinerman, if that's your name. These people are more important. Move aside and let us pass." Something ugly glittered in the protruding eyes. The man spread his feet, steadying himself on the plank. "Not just yet, sheeny. Not until I'm good and ready." Leo went rigid. But he was too sensible to involve himself in a fight. With a disgusted shake of his head, he Stepped sideways to another board: "Then we'll go around, you damn fool." "Not unless I say so!" Kleinerman fisted his right hand and shot a weak punch at Leo's stomach. The fat man's sudden change of position threw him off balance. He toppled forward, knocking Leo into the water with a great splash. Panicked, Eleanor started forward. The Rasmussens didn't mean to impede her, but they all seemed to be in her way. And it was impossible to move quickly on the mud- slimed mass of wood and wire. She heard Leo kicking and sputtering. Saw his head bobbing above the red-lit water. If she -- could reach him, she could easily pull him out. But her foot missed a board and slid down into a knot of steel cable, just as Kleiner- man picked up a length of dripping two-by-four and swung it hard against Leo's skull. She cried his name but the cry was lost as another building roared down into ruin. Leo sank from sight. hr **Oh my God, help him, help the poor man!" Rasmussen shouted. Eleanor twisted back and forth, trying to free her leg. The cable's rough surface ripped her underskirt and raked her calf. Blood ran into her shoes as she extricated herself and struggled to the spot where Leo had gone down. People on shore were shouting loudly; pointing and waving. Two had even leaped onto the wreckage. Kleinerman turned and attempted to run. He slipped and pitched head first into the water, flailing his arms and wailing like a child: "Jesus Christ, help me! I can't swim-** Eleanor's eyes shone with hate. "Neither can her She flung herself to her knees on a big piece of siding that sank four niches under her weight. A huge bloodstain showed on her petticoat now. She thrust her hands into the water up to the wrists, then to the elbows, crying Leo's name again and again. Tears began to spill down her face. It gave her no satisfaction to see Kleinerman's plight. The harder he kicked, the faster he sank. His eyes bulged as he'choked and went down a second time. Eleanor didn't care whether the man lived or drowned; she only cared about her husband. Even half conscious from Kleinerman's blow, he should have floated to the surface by now. Had he gotten trapped down there? Had he become too frightened and somehow entangled himself in the debris? The water gleaming with firelight returned no answers. Against her back she felt the heat of the spreading flames. But her hands were cold as she groped below the surface. Suddenly she touched something. Human hair, she thought. Hope lighting her face, she called her husband's name again. She closed her hands- Nothing'there. Kleinerman disappeared, the water bubbling for a moment after it closed over his head. The last bubbles burst. Someone seized her shoulders from behind. It was Rasmussen: "It's too late." "No." "Yes, it is, he's gone." "No." "I tell you he's gone. You must be careful or you'll drown too." She writhed in Rasmussen's grip, screaming at the water: "Leo. Leo!" Patterns of reflected firelight shone and shifted at her feet. Suddenly strength drained out of her. Limp, she leaned against Rasmussen. She'd reached a point at which it was impossible to feel more shock or grief, because the load had already become unbearable. The universe no longer contained any rationality; the flo caret od denied all rationality, and so did Leo's death. He had died because he was hated. Was hated because he was a Jew. Was a Jew by accident comof birth- And he'd died in a country in which accident of birth supposedly made no difference. Her country's self-proclaimed idealism was a cruel sham, it was a- was a - Her overburdened mind went blank, as swiftly as if a sponge had suddenly been swept across a slate. She didn't remember being lifted gently; supported; guided toward shore by Rasmussen and his younger son. On shore, people were still yelling encouragement. She seemed calm as she stepped on comsolid ground. At Rasmussen's behest, half a dozen men filed out onto the T wreckage to take up the all but hopeless search for the bodies of the drowned men. Eleanor didn't notice. Her wet hair gleamed with red highlights, as did her cheeks. The dampness there could have been the rain, not tears. Her face was composed; eerily so. But memory was coming back. She stood motionless. Inside, she was in turmoil. Over and over, she heard accusations. Not accusations about responsibility for Leo's death. Her mind chose something else to hurl at her in silent condemnation: You never told him why you hurt every time he loved you. You never had the courage. He died thinking it was his fault, you bitch, you worthless bitch. CHAPTER XV Confession A TEMPORARY AID STATION had been set up in a large brick house two hundred yards up the hill from the place where Eleanor and the Rasmussens had clambered to shore. Candles burned in all the first floor rooms. The owner's small supply of blankets had been laid out for shivering survivors of the flood. The Rasmussens didn't linger at the house. Mrs. Rasmussen was still not herself; her husband wanted to take her to a friend's cottage higher in the hills. He said he felt bad about leaving, especially in view of Leo's death, but Eleanor urged him to go, saying it wasn't necessary for anyone to keep her company. "Besides, many people need help far more than I do, Mr. Rasmussen. I want to keep busy here." Because if I don't, I'll break down. She didn't admit that to Rasmussen. After a few more words of condolence, sincerely meant but awkwardly delivered, he shepherded his wife and children into the darkness. Eleanor went straight to the kitchen. There she helped an elderly black woman prepare and cook a watery vegetable soup. When the soup was done, Eleanor filled crockery bowls, pewter mugs, anything she could find, and served those huddling in blankets throughout the candle-lit house. The survivors were all citizens of Johnstown-young and elderly; individuals and entire families. A good many of them cried unconsolably; now and then one wailed a loved one's name. The crying helped Eleanor keep her own emotions under control. Although Leo was dead, and rage and guilt and sorrow were battering her mind, she vqwed she wouldn't weep. When she mourned, it would be in private. Meantime, there was work to be done. The rain fell steadily. Every