“Hey, kid,” the driver said to Justin. “I’ll take your goat if you tie her into the bed of the truck, but it’ll cost another ten dollars.”
“No!” Justin picked up Ticktock and cuddled her. “She stays with me.”
Nearby, a large man yelled at the driver and the Butterworths. “Move! The fire’s headin’ this way, for the love of God!”
The driver climbed into the cart and clicked the reins, and his horse tried to move through the line of people. “Get outta the way!” he hollered. Then, brandishing a whip, he cracked it over the heads of those in his path.
The crowd opened up and Father urged the family on. “Now we can move faster.”
“How are your hands, Charlie?” Mother asked.
“Sore—real sore. But I can’t think about it now. Let’s just get to Lincoln Park and meet the driver.”
“I heard some of the crowds are heading to a cemetery up there,” Father said. “There are few trees in the park and cemetery to catch fire.”
Justin set Ticktock down and the family continued across the bridge. The air was hot and Justin wished he had drinking water for himself and for his pet. “Can we get water?” he asked.
“There should be water soon,” Father said. “The new water tower is on this side of the river. The water tower is built of limestone blocks. It can’t burn down.”
“But there’s only one waterworks and that has a wooden roof,” Charlie said.
“Look!” A woman nearby pointed to the fire that had now taken hold on the far side of the river. “It’s heading that way. And if it hits the waterworks, there’ll be no water to drink—and none for the fire engines.”
“What fire engines?” another woman said mockingly. “Half of them are broke, they’ve been so overworked. I heard they’ve even misplaced some of the horses! We’ve got a bunch of stupid idiots runnin’ around loose.” She spit on the ground. “Chicago will be wiped right off the map.”
“It’s all punishment from God,” the first woman said. “This city is the most wicked city in the world. The fire is an act of God.”
Justin spoke up. “We live here and we’re good people. Why would God punish us?”
“God isn’t punishing anyone,” Claire said. “It’s a fire. That’s all.”
Justin thought about Claire’s words and felt better. If God had caused this terrible fire, well, Justin would never go to church again—even if Forrest was preaching.
They were off the bridge now and onto a street on the north side of the river. Then Justin thought of Poppy. “I think I saw Poppy back there in the crowd,” he said to Claire.
“You did? I hope she’s safe,” Claire said with a trembling voice. “I want so badly to let her know I trust and believe in her.”
“We let her down, didn’t we?” Justin said.
“Remember that night when she was trying on the dress? Poppy broke down, wanting so badly to live a good life. I said I’d help her. Oh, Justin, she looked up at me with those big brown eyes and … I know she believed everything I said and promised.” Claire began to weep again. “I shall never forgive myself if anything happens to Poppy.”
“Neither will I forgive myself,” Justin whispered.
EARLY MONDAY MORNING,
OCTOBER 9, 1871
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
- Terror! -
Poppy at last crossed the bridge, still clutching the heavy velvet bag under her arm.
What time was it? she wondered. It was hard to tell with the flames and smoke whirling and twisting overhead. But the sky was bright enough to light the way. So far she had had no choice but to be carried along by the others who were also fleeing from the fire.
The pain in Poppy’s leg was now unbearable, and every step felt as if a butcher knife had cut her leg muscles. When she lifted her dress to look at her injury, she realized how badly she’d been hurt. Her leg was bleeding from a deep wound.
If only she could find water so she could wash the cut and get a drink. Her mouth was dry and she tasted cinders and ash. To add to her fears, she was afraid something was wrong with Mew, who cried constantly.
She spotted a woman who was drinking from a jug of water she had hidden under her cloak. Poppy limped over to her. “Please, ma’am, can I have just a drop of water?”
“No! If I give you water, someone else will be wanting it.” Then her voice softened. “There should be water nearby. The water tower can’t burn down.”
“Please, could you put a drop on my finger for my kitten?”
“Your kitten! Now I’ve heard everything.” The woman snorted and turned away.
“Wait, look!” Poppy begged. She opened her apron pocket and pointed inside. “I’ve carried my kitten all this way, and now I’m afraid she’ll die if she doesn’t get …” Her eyes filled with tears, and little Mew began another series of yowls.
The lady peeked inside. “Oh, my, child, there really is a kitten in there!” She looked up at Poppy. “Where’s your ma?”
“I don’t have one. There’s just me and my kitty.”
“Come here.” The woman pulled Poppy gently under her shawl and opened the jug. “Have a good drink, child.”
Poppy shifted the heavy bag of jewels under her arm. Then she drank from the jug that the lady held to her lips. Poppy let the water stay in her mouth for a moment before swallowing it, then took another gulp. “Thank you, ma’am,” she whispered.
“And here’s some for the kitten.” The woman cupped Poppy’s hand and poured a trickle into her palm.
Poppy carefully held her hand down to Mew, who licked the water eagerly.
“Thank you,” Poppy said, smiling gratefully at the kind woman, but tears were spilling down her cheeks. “My leg’s hurtin’ so bad. I just want to stop somewhere and sleep. I can’t go on anymore.”
“How’d you hurt your leg, child?”
“It got crushed when I fell. Someone stomped on it. I know once I stop walkin’ I’ll never start again.” Poppy was sobbing now. She didn’t care what Ma would have said. She didn’t even care if she made it to safety. But she did care about Mew, who had stopped crying and was sucking Poppy’s finger again.
“Poor little things—the both of ya,” the woman said. “Let me take a look at that leg.”
Poppy sat on the side of the road with the bag in her lap. She lifted her dress while the woman bent down to look. “Oh, my good Lord,” she said. “You got yourself a bad cut that needs to be stitched up, girl.” She got up and opened the jug of water again. Then she tore a piece of cloth from her petticoat. “This is ’bout the cleanest bandage we can get today.”
Poppy gritted her teeth as the lady washed her wound with the rest of the water in the jug. Then she wrapped the white cotton cloth around Poppy’s leg and tied it with a piece of twine from her bag. “I hope it stays on. I can’t tie it too tight—that would hurt you more.”
“It feels better now.” Poppy impulsively threw her arms around the woman. “Thank you. Please stay with me.”
“I can’t, honey.” The woman stood up, unwrapping Poppy’s arms from around her neck. “I’ve got to keep goin’ and I’ll be walkin’ too fast for you with that leg. I got to get to Lincoln Park. I think that’s where my girls have headed.”
The lady was about to move on but paused, eyeing the velvet bag in Poppy’s lap. “If you got something important in there, you should put it into something less noticeable. Here.” She pulled a heavy paper bag from her satchel. “That velvet pouch will draw attention. Some thievin’ rascal would grab it in a second. I’m surprised you still have it.” She unfolded the bag and held it open while Poppy placed the velvet pouch into the paper one.
“Get along to safety, child. God bless you and your kitten.” The woman turned and walked ahead until she disappeared in the crowd.
Poppy got up, tucked the bag under her arm, and moved on. As she hobbled along the road, she noticed a tall building on the next block with smoke coming out of the windows. Suddenly, with a
loud blast, the smoke burst into flame. Soon screams came from the open windows.
When Poppy approached the building, she saw that a narrow plank of wood had been set up from the fourth floor of the burning structure over an alley to the fourth floor of the building next door. A woman with a child in her arms was slowly crossing on the plank, one foot in front of the other, to the waiting hands in a window on the other side. Cheers went up when she made it.
“That’s Tessie May’s building,” Poppy heard someone say.
“They can’t come down the stairs ’cause the lower floors are burnin’,” another person added. “Let’s pray that board holds!”
Julia and Renee are living in that place! No sooner had Poppy thought about her friends than she saw Julia tottering high on the wooden plank.
Be careful, Julia. Go easy! Don’t fall!
Poppy held her breath as Julia moved slowly and cautiously across the board. She heaved a sigh of relief when Julia made it safely into the open window on the other side.
Now Julia was leaning out the window, waving for someone else to follow her. Renee!
Renee screamed and kicked as a woman lifted her and placed her out on the flat timber. In the building opposite, Julia climbed out the window and back onto the plank and motioned for Renee to come to her.
Renee nodded, and then, with her arms outstretched, she began the trek to her friend.
Below, Poppy watched in fear. The crowd stared silently as the little girl teetered on the narrow board.
Then Renee looked down at the alley. She stopped in panic, crying and trembling. The board itself shook and the child fell to her knees, her hands grasping the edges of the plank.
Julia was crying, too, as she began crawling toward Renee. Suddenly the board dipped in the middle, and each end pulled free of the windows.
Down the two girls fell—Renee first, then Julia! Poppy saw them silhouetted against the scarlet sky, their arms and legs flailing, as they dropped down to the alley.
The board flipped over and over until it hit the ground with a loud thump.
All those watching screamed and sobbed. “Oh, those poor children.”
“Isn’t there someone here who can see if they’re still alive and need help?”
Poppy was stunned and couldn’t speak or move. As if in a dream, she observed the woman who had helped her heading toward the alley. A few others followed.
“Watch out! The fire’s spreading!” someone called. The grass in the alley flamed up from dropping cinders.
Poppy turned away and headed up the street. She didn’t want to see or know anything more about Julia and Renee. They were gone. And that was it. She was too weary to cry anymore.
Poppy walked away, dazed, knowing only that she must flee. How long she’d been walking, she didn’t know or care. She vaguely realized that dawn was starting to break and Lincoln Park was just ahead. She hobbled into the dried grass of the park, hearing the constant wail of the wind mixed with cries of distress, while the blazing fire raged on.
I must get to the water. Run away … far away …
Crowds were camped on mattresses and in makeshift tents. She stumbled around them. Then faintly—like distant music—she heard someone call out, “Poppy! Poppy!”
Her knees buckled and she was about to fall when she felt someone’s arms encircling her.
“Our little Poppy!”
She heard nothing more.
MONDAY MORNING,
OCTOBER 9, 1871
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
- At Lincoln Park -
It seemed to Justin that the whole world was burning. Now they were on the north side of the city, and still the whirlwinds shot the flames up to the sky, twisting and boiling.
“We should have gone to the lakeshore,” Mother complained. “We’d be safe at the waterside.”
“No, ma’am.” A gentleman who was trudging along nearby spoke up. “Some of the city folks crossed over the river and went down to Michigan Avenue and the lakeshore. They’re all trapped down there.”
“Then we should have gone to the prairie—to Grandpa’s,” Justin said.
“Most everyone from the north side is already up there. But anyone on this side of the city can only cross the river at the Twelfth Street Bridge now. There’s no other way.”
“So we’d be heading back into the fire if we headed for the prairie,” Father said.
They entered the park from the south entrance. “There must be thousands of people here,” Justin said in awe. “Where should we go?”
“There’s a line,” Father said, pointing. “Perhaps there’s water over there.”
They reached a fountain where water was still running. Several policemen guarded it and provided tin pails for those who had no way to collect the precious resource.
Ticktock cried when she saw the running water. “You can’t water animals from this fountain,” the police officer told him. Justin filled a pail, drank from it eagerly, and then filled it to the brim again before leaving the line.
Justin and his family moved away, each carrying a pail of water. “Over here,” Father suggested, finding an empty spot on the grass. Once there, Claire opened up her pillowcase and pulled out a folded sheet that had been hand-embroidered with blue forget-me-nots and daisies. “This is a gift from Randy’s mother,” she said. “She worked on it all summer.” Claire unfolded the sheet and spread it on the dry grass. “It’ll be put to good use right now. We’ll claim our spot with it—and we’ll all sit down and rest at last.”
“First I’m going to give Ticktock a drink.” Justin set the pail in front of his goat and watched as she lapped up the water eagerly. “You’ve been such a good little kid,” Justin said. “You haven’t complained, and you’ve kept up with me all the way.”
“She is a sweet thing,” Mother agreed as she sat wearily on a corner of the sheet. “And you’ve taken good care of her, Justin.”
Claire spoke up. “I only wish I could have saved Mew. I can’t bear to think of her in that fire. She was just a baby—too small to fend for herself.” Her eyes filled up and she turned away.
“Some things had to be sacrificed,” Father said, heaving a sigh. “I have to admit I was foolish to even consider going back to the shop. Our lives are worth more than all the jewels in the world.” He sat close to Mother and put his arm around her. “This is the most difficult time we’ve been through as a family. We may have to start all over, but …”
Mother put her head on Father’s shoulder. “At least we’re still alive and together.”
“And if we could withstand this fire, we can withstand anything!” Charlie said.
“How are your hands now, son?” Father asked Charlie.
“I washed them. Wish we had something to put on the sores.”
“Once the blisters break, they can become infected,” Mother said. “If that driver would only bring our belongings! I have clean clothing in there that we could use for your hands.”
“From what I’ve been hearing, I doubt if we’ll ever see our things again,” Father said. “Men with wagons are charging to cart things for a price—and then they go around the corner and dump them. Then they start over with another poor sucker.”
“I have clean cloth for Charlie’s hands,” Claire offered. She opened her bundle of wedding linens and handed her mother a pillowcase. “Tear it up and use it for bandages.”
“Oh, no, Claire,” Charlie objected. “It’s for your trousseau.”
Claire hugged her brother. “Haven’t we learned that things don’t matter?”
Father stood up and glanced at the line for water. “The police are sending people away. I wonder why?” The family watched as Father went to the fountain and talked with the officers there. He came back, shaking his head. “The water works burned down and the water can’t be pumped. I don’t know how much worse it can get.”
“It’s almost dawn. And the fire’s still roaring over there.” Mother nodded toward the west. “If on
ly the wind would stop.”
“If only it would rain,” Charlie said.
Mother sighed and ripped the pretty pillowcase into strips. “Come on, son, let’s protect your wounds.”
When they were finished, Charlie laughed and held up both hands, which were fringed with embroidery. “I’m sure I have the prettiest bandages around.”
Now that dawn was breaking, they looked around for familiar faces.
“Look who’s coming this way!” Father exclaimed. “It’s Dr. Anderson!”
The doctor waved hello as he approached the family. “So glad to see you made it!”
He glanced at Charlie’s hands. “I do have my medical bag here if you need anything.”
“Broken blisters—I’ll be all right,” Charlie said. “I’m sure there are other folks who need your help more than I do.”
“This fire is a tragedy beyond belief. There are wounded folks out there not far from this park.” Dr. Anderson gestured to the flames that were shooting up into the sky. “It’s raging beyond control, and it’s next to impossible to get in there to save anyone.”
“I hear the cemetery is full. And they’re still pouring into this place.” Father looked toward the south entrance. “Why, that little girl … she looks familiar.”
Justin followed his father’s gaze. A child in tattered clothing staggered into the park. Her face was stained with soot, and her eyes stared ahead as if she was in a daze. She struggled with what seemed to be a heavy bag and she kept the other hand in a front pocket.
“Is that … Poppy?” Justin asked.
Claire jumped up. “Yes! Yes! That’s my apron she’s wearing! Of course it’s Poppy!”
“Poppy! Poppy!” Justin called. “It is you!”
Poppy looked around aimlessly.
“Oh, Poppy, darling,” Claire called as she and her brother raced toward her. “Oh, thank you, God. Thank you!”
“Poppy, Poppy,” Justin sobbed and tears dripped down his face.
Poppy’s legs buckled under her, but not before Claire caught her in her arms.
Firestorm! Page 17