Earthquake in the Early Morning (5 page)

Dust and dirt flew everywhere, even down the alley.

Jack clutched their sign with one hand. He covered his eyes with the other. Annie did the same.

Another huge blast rocked the ground.

Jack tasted grit in his mouth. He looked at Annie. She was caked with dust from head to toe. He looked down at himself. He was just as dirty as she was.

“Hey, would you look at those two!” someone said. “Now,
that's
a story!”

Jack looked up. Betty, the newspaper reporter, and Fred, the photographer, were standing in front of them.

Even though they were also covered with dirt, Fred was setting up his camera. And Betty was taking notes in her notebook.

“Hold up your sign, sonny,” said Betty.

Too stunned to say anything, Jack held up the sign with the poem about hope.

Fred took a picture.

Another dynamite blast shook the ground.

“Come with us! We're headed for the park!” said Betty.

“We can't. We're on our way home, to our parents,” said Annie.

“Well, get going! And be careful!” said Betty. “Let's beat it, Fred!”

The photographer grabbed his camera equipment, and the two of them rushed off.

“I don't think Betty and Fred recognized us,” said Annie.

“
I
don't recognize us,” said Jack.

Another blast shook the ground.

“Come on,” said Annie. “Let's beat it!”

Jack and Annie jumped up. Jack put their sign in his bag. Then they started back down the hill.

Jack and Annie ran over the cobblestones. Dynamite blasts echoed behind them.

They headed back down the hill. Flames shot across the roofs, traveling from one house to another.

“We're heading right into the firestorm!” Jack shouted over the noise.

“We have to keep going,” Annie shouted back, “before the tree house catches fire!”

At the bottom of the hill, thick smoke was rolling through the street. It made Jack's eyes burn.

“Where's the tree house?” he shouted.

“Here!” said Annie.

Jack followed her voice.

She was holding on to the rope ladder.

“It's still here!” Jack said with relief.

“Of course. The tree house wouldn't leave without us,” said Annie. “Don't you—”

“Go! Go!” said Jack.

Annie started up the rope ladder. Jack followed. They climbed into the tree house and looked out the window.

All around, buildings were going up in flames. Black smoke seemed to be smothering the city.

Jack could scarcely breathe. His throat
burned. His eyes were stinging.

Annie grabbed their Pennsylvania book. She opened it to the picture of Frog Creek and pointed.

“I wish we could go there,” she said. “Good luck, San Francisco!”

“Good-bye, San Francisco!” said Jack.

The wind started to blow.

The tree house started to spin.

It spun faster and faster.

Then everything was still.

Absolutely still.

The songs of early-morning birds filled the woods.

Jack opened his eyes and sighed.

They were back in Frog Creek. He could breathe again. His eyes didn't sting anymore. He was wearing his own clothes, even his sneakers.

“I wonder what happened to everyone?” Annie asked anxiously. “Andrew, Peter, and their aunt, and Betty and Fred, and all the other people.”

Jack pulled out their research book. He turned to the last chapter. He read aloud:

“Oh, good,” breathed Annie. “Hey, do you have our sign?”

Jack reached again into his pack. He pulled out the sign from Peter and Andrew.

He placed it on the floor, next to the list from the Civil War, the letter from the Revolutionary War, and the slate from the pioneer schoolhouse.

“We have all four writings now,” he said.

“So what happens next?” said Annie.

Suddenly, there was a roar. A bright light flashed through the tree house.

Jack covered his face. When he peeked over the tops of his fingers, he saw Morgan le Fay.

“Morgan!” Jack and Annie cried joyfully.

They both hugged her.

Morgan hugged them back.

“We found the four special writings for your library!” said Jack.

Annie picked up the list and the letter. Jack picked up the slate and the sign.

“Here they are!” he said.

They started to give everything to Morgan. But she held up her hand.

“Do not give them to
me,
” she said. “Someone else needs them more.”

Suddenly, a blinding light flashed through the tree house again. There came a great roar, then silence.

When Jack and Annie opened their eyes, they were no longer in the magic tree house.

They were standing in a huge, shadowy room. The room smelled wonderful—like leather, books, and a wood-burning fire.

Flames crackled in a huge stone hearth. Along the walls were rows and rows of tall bookcases filled with books.

“Welcome to my library,” Morgan said softly.

“Wow,” whispered Jack.

“Someone here is waiting to meet you,” said Morgan. “I told him that two special messengers would soon arrive.”

“Where is he?” asked Annie.

Morgan pointed to a man dressed in dark blue in a corner of the library. He sat in a chair. His head was bowed. His hair was black streaked with silver.

“He looks tired,” Annie whispered.

“Yes, he and his knights have been defeated,” Morgan said quietly. “He has given up all hope for his kingdom.”

“How can we help him?” asked Annie.

Morgan looked down at the special writings that Jack and Annie held.

“Would it help if we showed him these?” Jack asked.

Morgan smiled.

“Come on, let's show him!” said Annie.

They crossed the room and knelt before the tired-looking man.

“Excuse me,” Annie said.

The man looked up. He had sad gray eyes.

“We're Morgan's messengers. We've come to help,” said Jack.

The man shook his head.

“I don't understand,” he said in a deep, tired voice. “You are children. How can you help?”

“Sometimes children can help a lot,” said Annie. “Jack and I have helped a general, and we helped wounded soldiers.”

“We helped people caught in an earthquake and a twister,” Jack added.

The man straightened up a little. “That is brave,” he said.

“We want to share how we did it,” said Annie. She held up the list from the Civil War.

“This tells you how to help wounded people,” she said. She held up the letter from the Revolutionary War.

“And this tells you that even when things look their worst, you shouldn't give up,” she said.

Jack held up the slate from the pioneer schoolhouse.

“This says, ‘If at first you don't succeed, try, try again,'” he said. Then Jack held up the piece of wood from the San Francisco earthquake.

“And this says that when you've lost everything, you can still have hope,” he said.

The man studied the four special writings. Then he looked at Jack and Annie with piercing gray eyes.

“You were both very kind to find all these things and bring them to me,” he said. “Are you magic?”

“Oh no,” said Annie. “
Morgan
is magic.
We're
just ordinary kids.”

The man smiled. He seemed less sad and weary now.

“And I am just an ordinary king,” he said softly. “I suppose if two ordinary kids can find
courage and hope, then an ordinary king can find it, too.”

The man slowly stood up.

“I will go now and speak to my knights,” he said. “I will share the wisdom you have brought me.”

He wrapped his cape around him. He bowed to Jack and Annie.

“Thank you,” he said. Then he strode bravely out of Morgan's library.

“Yes, thank you,” said Morgan, walking over to Jack and Annie.

“You're welcome,” they said.

“These are for your library,” said Jack. He and Annie gave Morgan the four special writings.

Morgan smiled.

“Their wisdom will help many readers who come here,” she said.

“Great,” said Annie.

“It's time for you to go home now,” said Morgan.

Jack looked around Morgan's library. He hated to leave. It was the most wonderful room he'd ever seen.

“Don't worry. You can come back,” said Morgan, reading his mind. “You must come back, for you both have helped save Camelot. Good-bye for now.”

Before Jack or Annie could speak, there was another blinding flash.

Then they were home again, in the tree house, in Frog Creek, in the early morning.