FIRE AND FOG Read Online Free PDF Page A

Soldiers from the Presidio have joined with the police
to keep order and to enforce the evacuation. They've already
started knocking on doors. It will be far easier for her to come
now, before they get here. I have the Maxwell outside and we can
take one load of her things if we leave soon, but if she waits
until they force her out, she'll have to leave with nothing. I
think you'll have more success making her understand than I
could."
    "And if I don't?"
    "Then we'll have to leave her to the authorities. I tried to
tell you both yesterday evening: the firemen can't keep up with
these fires. Many of the water lines are broken, the underground
cisterns are inadequate, and there's no way to pump water from the
Bay. Last night I learned that Fire Chief Sullivan was knocked
unconscious in the earthquake and is not expected to live. Without
him, there was no leadership for quite some time yesterday, which
only exacerbated an impossible situation. The firefighting is more
organized now, with the deputy chief in command. I know today they
plan to begin using dynamite."
    "Dynamite!"
    "They have to make a firebreak. They'll knock down an area broad
enough that the fire can't leap across, and then they'll set
backfires. Thus the fire will consume itself-or so the reasoning
goes." He ran his hand over his short, dark hair, a gesture of
impatience. "I hope to God they're right!"
    My throat went all dry as I remembered the pathetic trickle of
water from the bathroom faucet. This situation was so hard to
comprehend! Every time one thought one understood it, it got worse.
I swallowed with considerable effort and said, "You mean the houses
on this side of Van Ness will either burn or be blown up. Including
this one."
    "Yes. That is so."
    "In that case," I stood and said resolutely, "I must do my best
with Mrs. O."
    Michael also stood, and took a step toward me. "One more thing,
Fremont."
    "Yes?"
    "When we get Mrs. O'Leary settled, I want to teach you to drive
the Maxwell."
    "Me? I mean, I? Drive? What a notion!"
    "You'll find it simple. What's most important is that you have
the right temperament for the work. I want you to take over
transporting the physically injured and the infirm. I'm needed for
other things, and I would rather entrust my auto to you than to a
stranger."
    "Oh. Well, in that case, I should be glad to learn." Yes, I
thought as I went down to wake Mrs. O'Leary, it would be the best
of a bad situation if I could feel I was doing something
useful.
    Mrs. O'Leary would not leave her house. Nothing I or Michael
said could persuade her. I don't think she really listened; she
just sat on her couch with the photograph of her dead husband in
his police captain's uniform clutched to her breast, saying over
and over, "No police is gonna turn me out. Himself and his blessed
memory won't let that happen."
    At last, with tears in my eyes, I said goodbye, embraced her,
and left her there. I came down the front steps dashing moisture
from my cheeks with the back of my hand. Michael was waiting in the
Maxwell with the motor running. There was an unfamiliar hot
harshness to the air; half the sky above was black and roiling, the
other half a high, clear blue. With a heavy sigh, I joined Michael
and we were off. After a few minutes I asked, "What will happen to
her?" "A tent city has been set up for the homeless in Golden Gate
Park. Someone will take her there, or she'll find her own way." He
took his eyes from the road and glanced at me. "Don't worry,
Fremont. This crisis is bringing out the best in people, as you'll
soon find out for yourself. Besides, Mrs. O'Leary has many friends.
She'll be fine."
    "The homeless ..." I mused unhappily. "That's us now. We are the
homeless."
    "Not precisely." Michael turned left. The auto began to climb
toward the heights of the Presidio. We passed a gaggle of refugees,
some in horse-drawn carts and some on foot, trundling their
possessions. Michael kept to the middle of the street, driving
steadily and