Into the Whirlwind (9 page)

“Mollie, watch out!” he shouted. She followed his line of sight. A riderless horse was careening straight at her, cutting through the crowd of people packing the street. With people crowding her on all sides, there was nowhere to run. The whites of the horse’s eyes rolled as he thrashed through the crowd. Mollie flinched away from its flailing hooves just as Zack’s hands closed around her waist, hauling her out of the way a second before the horse barreled past.

“Thank you,” she managed to gasp before her throat seized up in a fit of coughing.

“Come on,” Zack commanded, grabbing her hand and pulling her forward. “We’ve got to get across the river before the bridge burns. We can make it, Mollie.” He grinned down at her, his teeth flashing white against his soot-stained face.

The crowd grew even thicker near the Rush Street Bridge. Ahead of them, people yelled and started pushing the crowd back. It was impossible to hear what they were saying over the roar of wind and the clamoring bells, but as she got closer, Mollie saw the problem.

The bridge was on fire.

She pushed through the crowd. “We can still make a run for it.”

The bridge was a hundred yards long, and orange flames licked at the wooden railings. Bits of the planking smoldered
where cinders ignited the wood, but most of the bridge looked sound. A few people made a dash for it, and with the wall of fire behind them, Mollie intended to get across that bridge.

Zack’s hand was like iron as he hauled her back. “That bridge isn’t going to hold! I won’t watch you kill yourself. We can make it to the bridge on Clark Street.”

For the first time tonight, there was anger in his face. In all the years she had known the impeccable Zack Kazmarek, there had never been a hint of a pulse beneath his tailored suits and starched collar, but the way he was looking at her now, with desperation in his eyes, and grasping her arms as though he couldn’t bear to let her go made her think . . .

She shoved the thought away. He looked mad enough to fling her into the river. “Why are you so angry at me?” she asked.

The question ratcheted him even closer to the boiling point. “Because for some insane reason, I adore you. For three solid years I have thought you were the closest thing to perfection on this earth, and I can’t watch you risk your life crossing that bridge!”

Had she understood correctly? After all these years of cold decorum, Zack’s eyes glittered in a face streaked with soot and sweat as he stepped closer, shouting over the roar of wind and fire. “I’ve been insane about you since the moment you waltzed into my office three years ago in that ridiculous suit and your hair as prim as a schoolmarm,” he shouted. “Don’t you
dare
get yourself killed on me now!”

Mollie was struck speechless. Heat blistered her skin and every breath of hot air scorched the inside of her lungs, but Zack Kazmarek
adored
her?

“I’m not going to get myself killed,” she said, “but I am getting across that bridge.” It was easier to run rather than continue this mortifying conversation. She turned and ran. Her boots
clattered on the wooden planking, and she darted to avoid the spots where cinders ignited the parched wood. Zack’s tread was heavy as he came bounding up behind her. The moment she reached the other side and her feet touched land, she sucked in a huge breath of air. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath.

She doubled over, feeling lightheaded. Zack was by her side in an instant. “Can you get enough air?” he asked. He knelt down beside her, grasping both her hands in his. “Mollie, can you get air?”

She nodded, finally able to catch her breath again. She pushed herself upright, and Zack rose to his feet but didn’t release her hands. He kept looking down at her with a combination of relief, hope, and something else she couldn’t quite place.

“Why did you say you were sorry?” he asked. “Right after the turpentine plant blew and you grabbed on to me. You said you were sorry. What did you mean?”

She pulled her hands away. There was no point in denying the truth. Besides, it was easier to answer that question than to respond to his stunning declaration. “I said it because I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess! You would be safe at home with your parents if it weren’t for me. I’m sorry for practically getting you killed.”

His shoulders drooped a little, and there was no mistaking the wounded look on his face. It was almost as if she had struck him, but he masked it quickly by nodding and taking a fortifying breath. “All right, then,” he muttered. “Let’s keep moving.”

5

T
he sun had risen by the time Mollie reached her apartment, only a tiny bit of daylight able to cut through the dense wall of smoke from the still-roaring fire. Mollie clambered up the staircase and ran down the hall.

Frank opened the door before she could even knock. She flung herself into his arms. “Thank God! I was afraid you wouldn’t be here anymore.”

He gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I was just about to head out on my own,” he said. “From the sounds I heard outside the window all night, I knew I didn’t have much chance in that stampede.” He cocked his head. “Who is with you?”

Zack stepped forward into the apartment. “Zack Kazmarek. Mollie was at my townhouse when we learned of the fire.”

Frank tipped his head back. If it was possible for a blind man to look down his nose at a person, Frank was doing it. “Ah. The college boy.”

Zack held up his hands. “Please, don’t rush to thank me. The building is about to burn down around you, so there’s no time for gratitude.”

“You can battle it out later,” Mollie said as she fumbled with
the lock of her apartment. If she hurried, there might be time to stuff a few belongings into a pillow sack.

“I’ve been listening at the window all night,” Frank said as he followed her into her apartment. “About twenty minutes ago, I heard someone say the roof at the Waterworks has collapsed and the pumps have failed. There is no water left to battle the blaze. The firefighters have abandoned their engines and are evacuating the city.”

Her last ray of hope died. The city had an inexhaustible supply of water from the lake, but if the pumps failed, there was no way to use it. Chicago was going to be destroyed.

She snapped into action. “I need to grab a few things before we leave,” she said, rushing to her bedroom. With a tug she jerked her pillow from its case. What to take? Clothing. Shoes. Her hands shook as she stuffed blouses and undergarments into the bag. She snatched a green paisley scarf to protect her hair from falling cinders.

Nothing was more important than her father’s photograph of the 57th. She raced into the main room, snatching the framed picture from the wall.

“You can’t take that,” Zack said. “It’s too big.”

By the flickering light of the fire, Mollie looked at the photograph. Taken the month before the final battle at Winston Cliff, the men looked stoic as they stared straight ahead at the camera. It showed Frank before he was blinded and Ulysses with both legs. In the front row was the famous Colonel Richard Lowe, one of the youngest colonels to ever serve in the army. Behind Colonel Lowe stood her father, the only man grinning in the portrait. This was how she would always remember Papa, trying to see the best in every hour of each day.

“I’m taking it,” Mollie said. It fit awkwardly into the pillowcase. She had to yank out a skirt and a pair of boots, but they
could be replaced. The large photograph made the pillowcase splay out. As she rearranged the fabric, Frank knelt down beside her.

“I’ve got the deed to the property on Columbus Street in my coat pocket,” he whispered.

She turned to look at him. It would probably be worthless after tonight, but Frank was right. That piece of paper was the most valuable thing she owned. “Thanks, Frank,” she whispered before pushing to her feet, awkwardly balancing the pillowcase on her shoulder.

“Ready?” Zack asked impatiently.

She nodded and reached out for Frank. She paused in the doorway, tempted to turn around for a final look at her apartment, but she couldn’t do it. Her books . . . the sticky window with its charming view . . . She’d break down and bawl like a baby if she had to look at the home she was leaving for the final time.

“Let’s go,” she said.

The blaze was getting worse. Clinging to Frank, Mollie guided him as they navigated streets clogged with people hauling their belongings in carriages, wagons, and buggies. The thought of getting separated from Zack was terrifying. He carried her pillowcase while she clung to the hem of his coat as he pushed forward. Twice they had gotten separated, but the moment his coattails slipped free of her clutch, she shouted and he stopped for her.

Bits of flaming tar paper whirled through the air. One landed on the back of Zack’s shoulder and the fabric started to smolder before Mollie swatted it away.

The two-mile diversion to rescue Frank had been costly. The
fire was gaining on them, and it was getting harder to breathe the hot, acrid air. Still pealing their warnings, church bells mingled with the sounds of people shouting and wagon drivers whipping panicked horses to push forward through the crowds.

Mollie spotted a little girl wearing a nightdress sobbing her heart out atop a half flight of stairs leading to a boardinghouse.

“Zack, wait!” Mollie shouted. He turned around and followed her gaze. He paused while Mollie darted up the flight of stairs to the blond girl. “Where are your parents, honey?”

“They’re gone!” she sobbed. “I fell down, and by the time I got up I couldn’t see them anymore!” Mollie could only imagine the terror the girl must be feeling. She couldn’t be more than nine or ten years old. No wonder she had climbed up here to get out of the chaos on the street.

“How long ago did you get separated from them?”

“It seems like forever,” she sobbed. “I’ve been looking for hours and now my feet hurt and I can’t walk anymore, so I came up here.”

Mollie’s heart sank. If the girl had stayed in one spot, perhaps her parents might have found her, although, considering the crush of humanity packed onto the street, maybe not. Everyone was pushing north, and it would be hard to travel back the other way.

Zack guided Frank to the stone balustrade, then sprinted up the steps. “We need to move,” he said in a low, urgent voice.

“This girl has lost her parents.” Mollie had no idea what they were going to do. They couldn’t abandon her, but they couldn’t take her with them either. It was difficult enough guiding Frank.

Zack swatted away an ember that landed on his cheek. “I can carry her,” he said. “We’ll have to leave your pillowcase. I can’t carry it and the girl.”

Mollie’s eyes drifted closed. Without that pillowcase, she’d lose the only photograph of her father. She’d have nothing but the clothes on her back, but she knew what she had to do. The lump in her throat made it too hard to speak, so she just nodded permission.

Zack tossed the pillowcase on the landing and knelt down for the girl to scramble onto his back. She still looked angry and frightened, but at least she was no longer sobbing. Zack scanned the scene before them and the ominous glow of fire to their left. So many of the alleys they had traveled down led to dead ends or were blocked by the rubble of collapsed buildings.

“I think our best chance is to head for the lake,” Zack said. “Even if the whole city burns, we can wait it out in the water.”

Mollie was so exhausted she didn’t know what else to do. “All right,” she said.

The girl’s name was Sophie, and she was ten years old. When Zack was too tired to keep carrying her, Sophie wanted Frank to take over.

“I don’t see why not,” Frank said as he squatted down and Sophie scrambled onto his back. It took them all another half hour to navigate the streets cluttered with abandoned wagons and furniture before they reached the lake, arriving late in the afternoon.

Thousands of people were crowding the shore, some huddled in groups and others sitting or lying on the ground in exhaustion. Zack led them through the throngs of people until they made it to the edge of the lake. When Mollie turned around to see the city, she stared in slack-jawed amazement. The sky blazed in shades of red and orange with huge columns of black smoke billowing across it. Mollie repeatedly swiped at her clothing as
the hot embers settled on her dress and in her hair. And always, the fire kept creeping closer.