Blossom (The Blossom Trilogy Book 1)
Page 24
She moved closer to Brock and rested her head on his chest. His heart was beating so strongly that she could feel each beat. Blossom noticed everything. Every sound. Every smell. Her senses were alive. Her mind raced through the last few days. About how he listened to her. About how he watched her. About eating fried chicken and flying a dragon kite. About seeing his face through the window of The Golden Palace. She felt satisfied and completely comfortable.
Brock leaned back and rested on his elbows. He looked skyward. Blossom moved so that her head still rested on his heart and her body was close to his. Brock’s left arm wrapped around her.
“I have another gift for you,” said Blossom tenderly. “I’m giving you my ‘forever.’”
“Your ‘forever?’”
“Yes, you know, that ‘forever and ever’ people always talk about. I’m giving you my ‘forever.’”
Everything feels right. I’m not going to say another word. This is perfect.
Before long, their reclined embrace and star-gazing lulled them into a quiet slumber.
Chapter 49
The Earth Dragon Stirs
Wednesday, April 18, 1906, 5:12 a.m.
The day of the earthquake and firestorm
With incomparable force and explosive energy, the earth shook beneath Brock and Blossom at 5:12 a.m. They woke up to an ungodly grinding in the ground and the startled cries of the livestock. Everything around them seemed to spring to life, surprised by the violent movement. The shaking went on for what seemed like an eternity as they held each other.
While according to Chinese tradition, this was a sign the Earth Dragon was moving, according to science, two of the world’s greatest tectonic plates, the Pacific and the North American, were no longer able to bear the geologic tension. With the fury of two battling fire-breathing dragons, they lurched past each other.
“This is bad, really bad,” said Blossom as she realized they were not only experiencing a major earthquake, but she wasn’t going to be in her bed when Grand Ma Maw woke up. “When’s it going to stop?”
The ground shouted and growled at them. Everything seemed to slam against the earth again, as if God was a blacksmith at his anvil and he’d just hammered the ground. “It’s twisting now, and going up and down. Brock, when’s it going to stop?”
She could hear Gubbs in the barn doing his best to quiet the horses, but they would have none of it. The earth was moving and the barn’s weathered wood beams were creaking and cracking overhead. No amount of shushing could override what the horses were feeling. When the shed next to the barn collapsed, Gubbs’ efforts were even more futile. The rooster and hens broke loose in a cloud of feathers and a deafening chorus of cackling.
He yelled for Brock and Blossom to help. The look on Gubbs face showed his relief that they were already on their way.
When the grinding finally stopped, they noticed something else started. The quake had knocked over a lit kerosene lamp in the horse barn, quickly igniting the straw that was strewn on the ground. It traveled to a pile of hay bales. By the time Gubbs could return with two pails of water, it was clear that it would not be enough to make a difference. It was spreading too fast.
“Gubbs, let’s get the horses out…now!” Brock assessed the vulnerability of the barn and its contents. The hungry flames feasted on anything within reach. Blossom made sure the released horses ran away from the barn by swinging her arms and yelling. “Honey, Mother Nature already taught them to run away from fire.”
“Then what can I do to help? I have to do something!”
Just as the cows appeared to be settling down in the yard, with their mad pushing, butting and shoving coming to an end, the earth exploded with more angry movement.
“Damn, we’s in fer it again!” hollered Gubbs. With incomprehensible force, the ground rolled and snapped sharply, this time like a housewife shaking out a dusty rug.
The barn’s windows revealed a glowing fire that was quickly consuming the fuel inside. Blossom watched the horses running freely on the hillside, whinnying and galloping randomly as the uneasy earth moved below their hooves.
Again, the shaking stopped.
***
“Gubbs, let’s get the wagons out of the barn,” yelled Brock. He stopped and contemplated the flames, flashing back to his childhood burning-at-the-stake experience. Austin, I’ll never forgive you for what you did that day.
Blossom saw the look on his face, sprang to attention and embraced him. She knew she could help pull or push a wagon as good as anyone at a time like this, but also she could calm his nerves about entering a fiery building.
During the last quake, some cows broke through the split-rail fencing of their corral. Like logs breaking through the pinch-point of a logjam, they poured out to freedom. However, once free, they didn’t know what to do with themselves other than to moo loudly.
“We’re going to lose the horse barn,” said Brock as the trio delivered a second wagon out of the barn with some saddles that they’d quickly thrown into the back.
“How can we keep it from spreading?” Brock urgently asked.
Blossom grabbed a rake that rested against the barn’s outer wall. “I’ll clear away the loose straw and dried weeds between the horse barn and the dairy barn. That should separate them, so long as the wind doesn’t pick up much more.”
“Good idea. Gubbs and I will tend to the cows.” A couple of hired farm hands stumbled over from the faraway bunkhouse.
“What can we do?” one asked in a weak voice, clearly out of breath.
The noise of the animals, the fire and the increasing wind required everyone to yell.
“Where have you been? We’re losing the horse barn!” hollered Brock over the horrific sounds emanating from the blaze. As the words streamed out of his mouth, Brock noticed the blood on the one man’s forehead. The other couldn’t lift one of his bloody arms that clearly was not only broken, but likely crushed.
“The bunkhouse fell down on us with the first quake, and while we tried to get out, the second one hit. We didn’t hear any other men, so we made our way over here.”
“God, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Are you two able to help?” asked Brock more sensitively now.
“We’re beat up, but not washed out. We’ll be fine,” said one man.
“What would you like us to do first?” asked the other.
“Let’s work together to get the cows back in the corral.”
“Brock,” screamed Blossom. “Look!” She pointed to the city. Fires were flickering all over San Francisco, resembling the stars they’d gazed at earlier that night. But this time the sight was horrifying.
“The city, it’s on fire! I’ve got to go home and help Grand Ma Maw,” she said, her voice spilling over with fear. “What about your family, Brock? What about Clarissa?”
“I’m not sure the streets will be passable,” said Brock as he looked down at the glittering city with barely visible plumes of smoke rising in the early-morning light. “You said you could ride a horse, right?”
“Well, you’re right. I said that. But I wasn’t telling the truth. Actually, I haven’t told you the truth about something else.”
“That will have to wait. Now, I guess you’re going to learn to ride a horse and learn fast. Gubbs, can you saddle two of the horses? Then finish up with this firebreak in the dirt.”
“You got it, Pork Chop.”
Gubbs winked reassuringly at Blossom.
“Yuh’ll be fine, miss. Just be sure tha horse knows yuh’re in charge,” he yelled.
For the first time in her life, with all the chaos swirling around her, Blossom actually felt in charge.
Chapter 50
From The Roof’s Edge
Wednesday, April 18, 1906, 5:17 a.m.
The day of the earthquake and firestorm
Clarissa’s parents were moving around their house to ensure that everyone, including the staff, was safe. However, Zelda could not be found. Rudely awakened from her crystal a
nd silk dream world, Clarissa nearly smothered herself as she buried her face in her mother’s bosom, a frenzy of sobs and tears exploding from her. Seated on the main parlor’s settee, Clarissa’s mother stroked her distraught daughter’s hair and did what she could to calm Clarissa down, as only a parent can do.
At first glance, it appeared that their opulent and ostentatious home stood strong and sturdy through the shaking, though many of their treasures were hurled to the floor from the walls and curio shelves. As a result of the first quake, Clarissa’s harp had fallen over and was leaning against the wall. However, as the house settled the golden instrument slide down and hit the floor, creating a nightmarish noise that prompted everyone to turn and look. It sounded nothing like the rapturous and hypnotic melody Clarissa played for Brock just a few days earlier.
The earth began to move violently again.
“It feels like our house is out on the open sea,” declared Clarissa’s father as he visually took in the unnerving movement of things that don’t normally move by themselves, including the entire structure of the house. “It’s like we’re getting the old heave-ho!”
Romeo and Juliet were flying freely around the house since their cage fell in the conservatory, its door now wide open.
“Too bad Brock’s not here to see you flying free,” Clarissa said in a sing-song way to the birds. Her mother looked at her queerly.
“You’re fine. See, the shaking stopped. Your father and I are fine. Our house is fine, for the most part. We must pray that our friends and neighbors are as fortunate,” said Mrs. Donohue, with what Clarissa sensed was an odd calmness.
“Mother, you didn’t mention Brock. Do you think Brock is fine?” A rush of doubt and fear raced through Clarissa’s body. She sat up straight with a noticeable look of someone who had just realized something she didn’t want to realize.
Mrs. Donohue gently touched her daughter’s chin and turned her head so she could make eye contact. “Brock is fine too. I’m sure of it.”
Mr. Donohue said in a hushed tone meant only for his wife to hear, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Mrs. Donohue turned back to Clarissa. “Honey, I couldn’t bear to see you with a broken heart.”
Clarissa coolly replied, “Well, you better look the other way, because I’m halfway there.”
“Ma’am! Oh, Mrs. Donohue!” shrieked one of the maids. “It’s Zelda. She’s…she’s…dead!”
“You must be mistaken,” Clarissa’s mother stated dismissively and calmly.
“No, ma’am. I just checked outside the servants’ door.” The maid stopped to catch her breath. She looked at Mrs. Donohue with a cocked head, as if she wasn’t speaking to the gentle woman of the house she’d always known. She cleared her mind and went on, “Some of those huge, stone urns that are up on the roof’s edge came down. One of them hit Zelda!” As the words came out of her mouth, a horrible picture was painted in everyone’s mind.
Since gracefully taking charge was something she did best in this household, Mrs. Donohue consciously blinked, inhaled deeply and said, “Then we must go to her right away.” She rose to her feet and began to walk. They all followed the matriarch in a formation that looked much like a funeral procession.
Chapter 51
Scarlet With Blood
Wednesday, April 18, 1906, 5:20 a.m.
The day of the earthquake and firestorm
Austin survived in more than his share of barroom brawls and taken his hits. But being on the top floor of a four-story building that collapsed on itself like a squeezed accordion was a sensation unlike any he’d ever felt. Monique held onto him for dear life. Peaches barked and whined in her kennel.
When the movement stopped and the dust began to settle, Austin hollered, “Horse shit! Let’s get out of here!”
Monique spoke up immediately. “I’ll second that!”
“I used to think a good shake in California would not be half as bad as a twister or a hurricane somewhere else, but I’ll take a tornado over what we just felt!” Austin said rapidly as he made his way out of the bed.
Monique looked at him and instructed, “Wait a minute there, cowboy. Let me see the side of your head.”
He complied with her request. He put his hand up to his left temple and felt moisture. He looked at his hand and it was scarlet with blood. “I thought one of those pieces of wood landed close to my pillow.”
Monique scanned the room for something to wrap his head with. The mirrors that once reflected light and lovemaking transformed into shiny slivers of bad luck all over the floor. She grabbed a long stocking from the end of the bed. “That’ll do,” she announced with pride. Peaches continued to bark sharply.
“Good thing we dropped our clothes right near the bed. Lust pays off in more ways than one, eh?”
“Austin, how can you say that at a time like this?”
“It’s better than being serious at a time like this!”
The pair cleared the freshly fallen debris off of the bed so they could get out. Timbers from the ceiling’s structure dangled in various lengths and angles. They got dressed and Monique rummaged through the drawer that had flown out of her dresser. She scooped up a handful of stockings. She balled them up and put the wad on Austin’s temple. She used a loose one to wrap around his head as a bandage.
“Does it hurt?” she asked with an empathetic wince on her face.
“It didn’t, but now it’s throbbing like a sonofabitch,” he replied with eye-squinting, breath-stealing pain.
They collected Peaches and made their way out the window that now functioned as a door. It was nearly at ground level as three stories of the building were flattened beneath them.
In the street, the air was thick with dust and smoke. Coming in and out of sight were prostitutes and their gentlemen callers running around fully or partially nude, hysterical and wholly indifferent to what they were—and were not—wearing.
“This is something I’m never going to forget!” announced Austin as he squinted and put his hand on the stocking wrapped around his head.
Monique fired back, “Come on. Put your eyes back in your head and let’s get out of here.”
Peaches barked in agreement.
“My big brother isn’t going to like these fires.”
“What do you mean? Won’t he be like everyone else and be afraid of the earthquakes?”
“Nope. He’s used to riding unbroken horses. So the earth moving wildly underneath him is nothing compared to an open flame.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Why’s that?”
Austin said meekly, “Because of something I did to him when we were kids.”
“Really, you were immature even when you were immature?”
“Yep. I tied him to a wood pole in our cellar, like the Indians do.”
“You better tell me you didn’t try to burn him at the stake?”
“Okay, I’ll tell you I didn’t try to burn him at the stake if that’s what you want me to say, but I did it…well, sort of. But only his feet got burned. Clementine came to the rescue after I ran out through the servant’s entrance.”
Monique shook her head. “Even after that, you’re still playing with fire—fire of all kinds.”
She looked around. “Well, there’s plenty of fire out here today. I just hope Brock can cope with it all.”
“Don’t worry about my big brother. He always has everything under control. I take it back. Maybe we should worry about him!”
Chapter 52
Taking In Sights That No One Should Have To Witness
Wednesday, April 18, 1906, 6:07 a.m.
The day of the earthquake and firestorm
Brock led the way atop a shiny black workhorse he called Ebony. He guided Blossom’s horse by holding the reins.
“Brock, wouldn’t it be easier for us both to ride on just one horse?”
“Yes, but I bet both horses will be needed in the city to help out.”
“Not always.”
As they entered the outskirts of town, Blossom repeated her earlier statement, only with tears this time. “This is bad, really bad.”
It was like hell itself yawned before them.
Collapsed buildings. People wandering and weeping in the streets in their pajamas. The smell of smoke set against an eerie silence of the new morning. It was more than unsettling. Sunrises were supposed to be heartwarming, not heartbreaking.
Unfurled blankets of broken bricks and masonry from building fronts made streets difficult to navigate. Severed water mains gushed streams of water down roads that pooled in low spots. Pavement was shoved in all directions. And it was accented by cable-car tracks that had broken loose from the ground and reached upward to make themselves unwelcomed obstacles. It looked to Brock like the world was being ripped apart at the seams and the tearing was happening everywhere.
How could this get any worse? thought Brock. It’s on fire. That makes it worse!
“Let’s get you home first. We’ll have a lot to talk about with your father and Grand Ma Maw.” In his mind, he added, if they’re still alive.
The destruction seemed to get worse the farther into the city they went. Perhaps it was the taller buildings. Perhaps it was the older, less-secure construction. Maybe it was fate or Mother Nature’s cruel randomness. Whatever it was, Brock saw a decimated city before him.
They became unavoidably aware of fires that resulted from toppled chimneys and crumbled flues. More aggressive blue flames danced sharply from broken gas lines. Sparks spewed from the erratic, snake-like movements of downed electric power lines. There was an unmistakable randomness of debris in the streets that buildings had violently spit out. The ripping action created harsh barricades. In contrast, costly draperies, tangles of clothes and broken furniture littered the roadway as well. All of it was being drenched by geysers rising from broken water mains.