God, what time is it?Abner felt for his pocket watch, but it wasn’t there.The gold! All his winnings!He searched his pockets frantically and ripped the shabby linen from the bunk. They were gone.
He turned on shaky legs just as Chi Ho scurried down the steerage steps. Abner grabbed the man’s silk tunic in his tight fists, and with a strength driven by drugged anger, flung the Chinaman onto the empty bunk.
“You thieving little bastard!” Abner’s hands closed around the small man’s fragile neck and his thumbs pressed into the chink’s throat, garbling the foreign chatter that cackled from his mouth. His long, mandarin nails dug pits into Abner’s wrists before the terrorized man miraculously pulled a silken pouch from beneath his clothing. Abner stopped choking him and grabbed it, jerking open the strings and dumping its contents on the bunk.
All his belongings, the gold, his watch, a few coins, and his door key, fell onto the flat mattress.
“You try kill Chi Ho!” The Chinaman cowered against the ship’s wall. “I keep safe for you. No thieving bastard!” He turned and pointed to some bunks hidden in the deeper caverns of the hold. Three of the four beds were occupied, and one of the bundles awakened, turning his fathomless features toward them before he reached a long, filthy arm toward the old woman in a beckoning gesture.
“They steal if Chi Ho not keep for you.”
Abner watched the woman pick up a tinder box and walk to the man’s side. Sliding open the lid, she roasted an opium ball posed on a needle-shaped holder until the smoke drifted upward in a steady stream. Pulling a wooden crate from nearby, she stood on it, slowly waving the kindled ball under the man’s nose. A sweet, searing smell filled the narrow cubicle.
Chi Ho pulled on Abner’s coat. “You understand! No steal! Chi Ho help! Understand?”
“Sure, sure.” Abner shrugged off Chi Ho’s pestering hand and turned back to the bed, shoving his possessions into his pockets. He gathered up the gold bag and heaved it in his palm to check the weight.
Having no idea how long he’d been here, he flipped open his watch. It was almost five o’clock. He had to get home before sunset to meet that slimy Duck. He pocketed the watch and headed for the short companionway, went out through the steerage and then up the last few steps to the deck.
There was no sunlight, but it wasn’t night.
It was a smoky, gray dawn.
On shaky legs Abner slowly made his way to the rail, staring in silent horror at the sight before him. Light from the eastern sun cast the city’s hills into smoldering shadows. The heart of San Francisco was destroyed, devoured by a carnivore of fire.
Something batted against the portside, capturing Abner’s attention. It was a small dinghy tied to the ship’s ladder. He had to get home! He climbed down the ladder and fell into the rocking boat. Sitting at the row bars, he grabbed the oars and rowed the few hundred yards to shore.
Within ten minutes he reached the devastated square behind his home. People pushed and crowded toward a guarded barrier, while others wandered aimlessly in circles, as if they had no direction. He elbowed his way to the front of the barrier and started to climb over it.
“Hey there, now. Where do ya think yer a-goin’?” A burly guard gripped Abner’s arm and waved a pistol in his face.
“I’m Abner Brown, the undertaker. I live there and have to get home!” Abner tried to pull away from the man, but he was held fast.
“I’ve me orders. There’s been plenty o’ lootin’ here tonight. Have ya got any proof who ya are?” he asked.
“Find Sheriff Hayes or one of his men. Any of them can identify me! And hurry up!”
At that moment a fire wagon rolled down the hill toward the barrier. Duncan was driving.
Abner grabbed the guard’s arm and pointed. “Over there! That man on the wagon can identify me. Duncan!” Abner jumped up hollering. “Duncan!”
Pulling the wagon to a stop, Duncan slowly climbed down. The guard started to speak, but Abner interrupted. “Duncan, tell him who I am! He won’t let me pass.”
Duncan spoke to the guard. “He’s who he says. The funeral home is behind this square.”
The guard released Abner, and he raced to the wagon. “Come on! You can drive me there faster!” Abner hopped onto the wagon seat, demanding that Duncan hurry.
They drove the few blocks to his home. The entire area was charred into burnt rubble. When they pulled up to the remains of his home, Abner was in shock, unprepared for the sight that greeted him. No walls were left, just piles and stacks of blackened wood. He jumped down and stepped over the debris scattered where the planked walk once paralleled his bustling street. He kicked at a beam and it slid down to the ashy ground. Cracked pieces of his mother’s most valuable urn were scattered through smoldering remnants of his burl desk. The same one that scummy Duck had run his finger across. Abner’s stomach churned, his head ached, and he lost control.
Duncan stood near the front wall, and Abner bent down and gathered the jagged pieces of the rare porcelain urn. He turned to Duncan and started flinging them at the huge man’s pitying face. His look made Abner sick! “Get out! Get out!” he screamed hysterically. “You stupid, dumb son of a bitch! I don’t need you!” He fell to his knees and scrounged up more ammunition, now throwing it in any direction. “It’s gone! Everything is gone.” His voice, already high-pitched and frazzled, cracked.
He grabbed a scorched metal box, still hot from the fire. It sizzled in his hand. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he grasped it tighter, gritting his teeth so hard his head and neck shook. He squeezed his eyes shut and tears edged through the corners. Finally he dropped the scalding box and stared at his hands. The hot, sharp corners charred vees into his palms, and he stared at them as if he were staring at Christ’s nail holes. He threw back his head and screamed, a howling, pain-filled scream that rent the air as it expelled his soul—and his sanity.
11
What a night!” Lee sat on an empty vinegar barrel and wiped his blackened hands on his filthy trousers.
Kit, who was just as smudged, slumped against the hard hub of a wagon wheel and stared at half the DeWitt warehouse. The other half, the one that housed his storage, was gone. “I lost it, Lee.”
