Fire: Chicago 1871 (10 page)

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Nate wasn't sure he could go on much farther. But he knew what would happen if he gave up. He stepped around a dead dog in the street and scrambled up onto the boardwalk. Julie climbed up after him, her skin reddened beneath the soot on her face. Her stockings were torn, and he noticed for the first time that they were heavy wool—riddled with burns from the wind-driven cinders. And it was only getting worse.

The screaming wind carried so many sparks that they swirled like insane fireflies, whipping around the corners of the buildings, scattering in fans along the boardwalk. Everything was smoking or on fire.

At the corner of State Street, a hideous crashing thundered up the street behind them, swallowing the sound of the roaring flames, the wind, even the terrified thudding of Nate's own heart. The ground trembled beneath his feet, and Julie screamed. Nate looked back. The courthouse tower had fallen in, smashing its way through the core of the building. For the first time in hours, the bell was silent.

An invisible wall of heat rolled through the air, scorching Nate's face. He heard Julie cry out, and he
turned to see her slapping at her billowing skirts. He dropped to his knees and helped, crushing the cloth between his hands, brushing the smoldering hemline until the fire was out.

When he stood, Julie was crying. She fought her skirts in the wind, gathering them, then took his hand and led off. They stepped over a burning plank that skidded along the wind-whipped street.

“I know the way from here!” Julie yelled over the sound of the wind. Nate glanced back the way they had come. The courthouse was invisible now, hidden behind a raging red sheet of fire.

“Look out!” Julie yanked him to one side.

He faced forward and saw that a portion of the boardwalk had collapsed. He had almost run headlong into broken planks that jutted up from underneath.

The First National Bank was afire as they passed. Nate saw a steamer set up on the corner. The firemen's coats gave off a strong burned-rubber odor that made Nate cover his mouth and nose with his free hand. He thought about the lake and imagined himself running into the cool water, sinking beneath the surface until his skin stopped stinging.

The people they passed were all silent now, grim. Some were carrying their worldly goods in their arms; many more had wagons or carriages. Nate and Julie passed three or four buildings that weren't yet in flames. The heat diminished a little. Nate rubbed his eyes hard, clearing his vision. He looked at Julie. Her face was still flushed deep red, but she was walking a little faster, a look of determination on her face.

“Oh, no,” Julie cried out as they came to the corner. Nate followed her anguished gesture. Down State Street, Booksellers Row was in flames. A few people dodged in and out of the shop doors, carrying books, and he wondered if Julie was remembering Mr. Black.

Nate squeezed her hand. “Julie! Where's your house?”

“Up there,” Julie said, pointing. She led the way, jumping off the boardwalk onto Michigan Avenue, plunging into the crowds that were moving toward Lake Park.

Across the street, Nate could see the fire reflected in Lake Michigan. The surface was choppy, and the flames glittered in a wind-shattered mirror. Nate stared at the expanse of dark water beyond the
reflections and ached with thirst and heat. It was so crowded that it was hard to find a path through the people and wagons that choked Michigan Avenue. But at least the fire wasn't here yet, and the heat was less intense.

Nate had to hurry to keep up with Julie. He saw two little girls, the elder probably no older than five, huddled together along the side of the street. He tried to see their parents as he passed and could not. Walking sideways, he ran into someone.

“Watch out!”

Nate felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and looked up to see a tall, scowling man. Half his scalp was bare, the skin patched with red and black. He shoved his way past.

Julie had slipped between a hansom cab and a wagon full of crying children. Nate followed her, seeing for the first time that her hair had been badly singed in back. It was ragged, three inches shorter on one side.

“Just up here,” Julie said over her shoulder.

Nate tried to see past her, but the crowd was too thick. After a minute or so, she turned again and pointed. Nate saw a row of town houses, their
shining white exteriors grayed by the smoke. Nate followed her, weaving through the boxes and trunks stacked close to the street.

Julie went up a flight of stairs. Nate followed her to a set of wide, carved, double doors. Julie pulled a key from beneath a pot of geraniums, and Nate waited as she unlocked the doors and swung them open.

He stood at the threshold as Julie ran across the stone-floored entryway, then disappeared up a carpeted stairway. He could hear her calling for her parents, could hear the rising panic in her voice. When she came back down, her face was streaked with tears. She carried a sheet of white paper in one hand.

“My parents are gone,” she told him, lifting the paper so that he could see the even, bold script as she began to read aloud in a hoarse, rasping voice.

“ ‘Dearest Julie, my greatest fear is that you are lost to us. My greatest hope is that you are not. If you make it to the house and the fire is not too close, stay here. I will come for you as soon as your mother is safe at your uncle Jack's. I have left money if you need it to hire a carriage
or other aid. There is water and food in the kitchen. I pray to God that you are safe.' ”

Julie held out a bank note. Nate could see that her hand was shaking.

“Julie,” Nate began. His throat ached, and he swallowed painfully. “Is there water?”

She seemed startled, then apologized, turning down a hallway that led past the stairs. He followed a few steps, then stopped. The carpets were beautiful, with intricate patterns. His shoes were filthy.

Julie came back toward him carrying two glasses full of water and handed him one. He drank greedily as she spoke. “The spigot isn't working. Father left a pail by the washbasin. He must have thought that—”

“Is there more?” Nate interrupted her. His throat was so raw that the cool water had been like heaven as it slid down. Julie motioned for him to follow her, and he stepped carefully across the carpets.

It felt strange to be out of the wind, to stand still. Nate filled and refilled his glass, drinking fast. It was unnaturally hot, but standing in the clean, spacious kitchen, it was almost possible to forget the fire for an instant.

The sound of the crowd outside was muted through the heat-cracked windows. To the west, Nate could see a stable; it looked askew through the shattered glass.

“I should wait here for my father,” Julie said. There was a note of uncertainty in her voice.

Nate could see the fear in Julie's eyes. “If it was safe here, they wouldn't have left. Julie, the fire is
close
.” He waited until she met his eyes. “We'll get back across the river and find my aunt. With any luck, the fire won't spread up that way.”

Julie wiped at her face, leaving black streaks on her cheeks. “What if we can't get back across? Nate, for all we know, your aunt has already left too. Maybe your boardinghouse is gone by now.” Her voice was small, rising and falling with each breath. “And the lake is right here.”

Nate shrugged. “You can stay, but I don't have a choice, Julie. I have to get home. If you come with me, I'll help you get to your uncle's place once I know Aunt Ruth is all right.”

A rolling crash made them both spin around, facing the west window. A rising cloud of smoke and dust obscured some of the flames for a moment.
“The buildings are all crumbling under the heat.” Julie's voice seemed a little steadier.

“We should leave now,” Nate said, feeling incredibly tired. He looked into Julie's frightened eyes. “You could go straight to the lake.” He hesitated, trying to think clearly. “It might be smarter, Julie.” A second rolling shudder passed through the ground. Another big building had fallen.

Julie shook her head. “I'll go with you. I know where Father keeps his hunting gear. He has a canteen.”

Nate nodded and pointed at the stables. “Is that your father's?”

“Yes,” Julie said. “But he might not have left the horses behind if he thought it was going to burn.”

Nate nodded. “If there is a horse, can you ride?”

“Yes. Sidesaddle, or astride. My uncle Jack taught me.”

“Good. What's the quickest way down to the stables?”

Julie showed him a side door. He opened it. Smoke and noise poured into the house. Julie caught his sleeve as he went past her. “I'll fill the canteen, then come down there as quick as I can.”

Nate saw an odd look in her eyes and realized
that she was still terrified. Awkwardly, he reached out to squeeze her hand. “We'll make it out, Julie. Just hurry.”

Nate ran along a stone walk, then followed a little path that led around a garden and down to the stables. He could hear a horse inside, whinnying anxiously. There were poplar trees around the paddock, and the ground was strewn with broken limbs. He lifted the lock bar and let the big double doors fly open, the wind holding them flat against the wall.

All the stalls were standing open. They were all empty except for one. In the last stall, a gelding stood trembling, its eyes circled in white, its nostrils flared. Nate glanced around the barn. Buckets had been knocked over, a saddle had been thrown aside and lay on the hay. It was obvious that the horses had been moved in a hurry. The remaining gelding had likely refused to move, terrified by the smell of smoke, too frightened to leave the safety of its barn.

Nate approached the gelding slowly, talking quietly. The horse turned to face him, its ears pitched forward. Nate took one step, then paused, then a second step, talking gently the whole time. Slowly, Nate worked his way closer to the gelding.

Nate knew it would be dangerous to ride a terrified horse through the smoky streets with the flames roaring closer. But the horse would save them precious time, too. “Steady, boy, steady,” Nate murmured, trying to keep his voice calm. He took one more step and caught the gelding's halter in his hand. To his surprise, the horse stepped toward him, nudging his arm. “You're ready to get out of here now, aren't you, boy?” Nate asked softly, leading the gelding out of the stall.

Nate found a feed sack that would serve as a saddle blanket, and a bridle that he managed to let out to fit the gelding. At the barn door, the gelding reared, but Nate calmed him down and talked him into edging outside into the hot wind.

Blinking in the weird reddish light, the gelding stood, trembling, as Nate looked toward the house. Julie was coming down the path toward him. Behind her, less than a quarter mile away, a towering wall of flame lit the night sky.

The scalding wind hit Julie as she came out the door carrying her father's old army canteen. She glanced at the approaching wall of fire, then followed the path around the garden. Nate was standing just outside the stable door. He had saddled her father's new gelding and stood holding the reins tightly in one hand. The instant he saw her, he gestured toward the flames, then motioned her to hurry. Julie began to run, the canteen banging against her side.

When she reached him, Nate was patting the horse's neck, trying to calm it down.

“It might be best if I ride in front. I'm stronger.”

Julie nodded. Nate boosted her up and waited until she had managed to arrange her skirts. Then he
pulled the nervous gelding around in a tight circle, finally getting his foot into the stirrup. She leaned back to let him swing his leg over, then straightened again. Without warning, the gelding surged forward. Julie grabbed at Nate's waist, hoping he could control the frightened animal.

For a few seconds, all Julie could do was hang on. Then, Nate hauled the gelding back into a slow canter. Julie leaned forward and shouted into Nate's ear, “That path leads up to Michigan Avenue.” She pointed to the dirt track that led through the poplar trees.

Nate swung the gelding around and gave it enough rein to canter up the slope. Julie loosened her arms around Nate's waist and tried to let the rhythm of the horse's gait take over, the way her uncle had taught her. It was hard; she was so tired and so scared that every muscle in her body felt tightly strung.

Nate rode north on Michigan Avenue, and Julie could tell he was fighting to slow the gelding down. It danced sideways on the plank-covered roadway, tossing its mane, very nearly knocking down a woman with a baby in her arms. The woman's husband shouted a warning, then an insult as Nate guided the gelding past them.

Julie leaned to look past Nate and almost cried out. She could feel her heart thudding in her chest. The flames were ahead of them as well as behind. Lake Park was jammed with people, some of them standing knee-deep in Lake Michigan. As Nate headed north, as fast as the crawling traffic would allow, Julie saw a number of wagons that had been driven straight into the shallows. The horses stood belly deep in the water; the drivers' legs were submerged. The vicious heat made Julie stare, entranced, at the people who had gone into the water. At least they were safe from the fire.

The gelding balked suddenly, sidling backward, drawing curses and shouts from people behind them. Nate worked to straighten the horse out, and Julie leaned to see what was wrong.

Just in front of the gelding, a man had collapsed. Two women were struggling to lift him. Nate eased the nervous gelding to one side, skirting them. People stepped over the man, unable to make the crowd on either side give them room enough to go around. Julie looked back, but the crowd had closed and she couldn't see anything.

Facing forward again, Julie stretched up and
found she could just peek over Nate's shoulder. There was a dark corridor to the east, even though the flames straight ahead of them were spreading, the wind continuing its lashing gusts. The street was less crowded here, and Julie was glad when Nate let the gelding canter again. Half a block farther on, he had to rein in.