Earthquake in the Early Morning (4 page)
Read Earthquake in the Early Morning Online
Authors: Mary Pope Osborne
Jack and Annie ran up the street to the book wagon. The man was carefully stacking the books in the back of the wagon. He was covered with dust and his glasses were cracked.
“Hey, what's the story?” Annie asked the man.
Jack couldn't help smiling. Annie sounded just like the newspaper reporter.
“I'm moving all the rare books to the Pavilion,” the man said.
“Can we help?” asked Jack.
“Sure, there are only a few left by the door,” said the man. “Grab 'em! Hurry! The fires on Market Street will soon be blowing this way.”
Jack and Annie ran into the building. Near the door were two small stacks of books.
Jack and Annie each gathered up a stack. The books looked very old and fancy. Some even had sparkling gold on their covers.
“Wow,” whispered Jack.
He and Annie carried the books outside.
“Careful, please!” said the man. “All these books are treasuresâancient Bibles and hand-painted books.”
The man carefully took the books from
Jack's and Annie's arms and put them in the back of the wagon.
“Thanks,” he said, pushing his hat back. “Run home now! The fires will be here soon!”
As the horses started up the hill, Annie waved and shouted, “Good luck!”
“I bet he was the librarian,” said Jack.
He opened his research book. He looked for a photograph of the building that had the books.
“Here it is,” he said. He read aloud:
People tried to save special things. But they did not always succeed. Rare books from a library were moved to the Pavilion building. When the Pavilion building caught fire, all the books burned. The building that originally held them did not burn at all.
“Oh no!” cried Jack. “Stop! Stop!”
Clutching the research book, he ran after the wagon. Annie ran with him.
“Stop! Stop!” they both yelled. They ran as fast as they could over the broken cobblestones and up the steep hill.
Near the top, the driver finally heard them. He brought his wagon to a halt.
“You can't go to the Pavilion!” Jack cried.
“You have to take them back to the building where they were!” said Annie.
“They won't burn there!” said Jack, trying to catch his breath. “The building you're taking them to is going to burn instead!”
The driver looked at Jack and Annie as if they were crazy.
“You kids need to worry about yourselves, not these books,” he said. “Go home to your parents. I'll take care of the library.”
Then the man snapped his reins and went on over the hilltop.
“Come back!” Jack cried.
They watched helplessly as the wagon bumped down the street, over the rubble. Smoke billowed up from the bottom of the hill.
“I can't believe it,” Jack said. He was close to tears.
“We tried, but we couldn't save them,” said Annie. She touched Jack's shoulder gently.
“All those books â¦Â ” His voice trailed off.
“Hey,” said Annie. “Someone's crying over thereâsomeone with two kids. Maybe we can help
them
.”
A woman in a blue bathrobe was sitting on a crumbling stone wall. She was sobbing into her handkerchief.
Two boys with dark hair sat next to the woman. The boys wore dusty, torn pajamas. They were both barefoot. The younger one was watching the older boy write on a rectangular piece of wood with a chunk of coal.
Annie pulled Jack over to the family.
“Hi, I'm Annie,” she said.
The two boys looked up.
“I'm Peter,” said the youngest. “He's my brother, Andrew. And she's our aunt Mary.” He pointed to his brother, then to the woman, as he spoke.
Aunt Mary tried to smile through her tears.
“Forgive me,” she said. “I'm a bit shaken up.”
“We are, too,” said Annie sympathetically.
“The house caught fire,” Peter said.
“We escaped,” said Andrew. “But we lost most of our things.”
“We've lost our shoes,” said Peter.
Jack and Annie looked at the boys' bare feet. They were cut and bleeding.
“Hey, my boots are just like boys' boots,” Annie said. “One of you can wear them.”
“Take mine, too,” said Jack. He and Annie started unlacing their boots.
“We can't just
take
your boots,” said Andrew.
“Then we'll
lend
them to you,” said Jack.
He and Annie handed their boots to the two boys.
“Thank you, thank you,” said Aunt Mary. She started crying again.
The two boys put their new boots on. Then Peter whispered something to Andrew.
Andrew held out the piece of wood to Jack and Annie.
“Here's something
we
can lend you,” he said.
Jack and Annie read a poem the brothers
had written on the piece of wood:
“Thanks,” said Annie.
“It's a great gift,” said Jack. “We needed some hope.”
“It's the only thing we can lend you,” said Andrew.
“Lend?” said Annie. She looked at Jack. “Oh, wow. They just gave us the special writingâ
something to lend!
”
Jack smiled. They could go home now.
“You should go to Golden Gate Parkâthat's what a reporter told us,” he said to the boys and their aunt.
“Is that where you're going?” asked Aunt Mary. She had stopped crying at last and looked stronger.
“We have to go home to our parents,” said Annie.
“Will you be safe?” asked the aunt.
“Yes. Once we're home, we'll be safe,” said Jack.
“Thanks for lending us your boots!” said Peter. “You're good friends!”
“
You're
good friends!” said Annie.
“You've helped us more than you know,” said Jack.
“Be careful,” said Aunt Mary.
“We will!” said Jack and Annie.
They waved as their new friends headed off to the park.
Jack sighed.
“Ready?” he said.
“Yeah,” said Annie. “I guess we just go back the way we came.”
Jack looked down the street. Smoke billowed up from the bottom of the hill.
“That might not be as easy as it sounds,” he said.
“We'd better be careful,” said Annie.
They stepped in their sock feet over the broken cobblestones, trying not to cut themselves.
They headed down the hillside. On their way, they passed policemen carrying stretchers with injured people on them.
They passed soldiers directing all those trying to escape the fires.
One man was trying to push a piano down
the street. Another man was wearing a bunch of hats, all piled on top of one another. A woman carried her three little dogs in a bag.
“Everyone's trying to save what's important to them,” said Annie.
“Like the librarian,” said Jack. “And usâwe're trying to save this sign.” He clutched the piece of wood.
When they were halfway down the hill, a soldier on a horse galloped in front of them.
“Get off the street! We're setting off dynamite!” he shouted.
“Dynamite?” said Jack.
“Yikes,” said Annie.
People started running in all directions. Jack and Annie looked around wildly for a safe place to go. Jack saw an alley.
“There!” he said.
They ran into the alley and crouched on the ground.
Jack reached into his bag for their research book. He looked in the index for the word “dynamite.” He found it. Then he turned to the right page number and read:
After the fires started, the mayor had an idea. He thought that if some buildings were destroyed, the sparks would not fly from one wooden roof to the next. He ordered some buildings to be blown up by dynamite. His plan did not work. The firestorm raged from building to building, from street to street.
Firestorm,
Jack thought. The word sounded terrible.
Just as he put the book away, a huge blast of dynamite shook the ground.
