September Sky (American Journey Book 1) (46 page)

Emily put the questions aside when the winds picked up again and forced her to redirect her thoughts to survival. She tightened her hold on the raft when it hit a haystack of debris and again when it slammed into what was once a working streetlight.

She didn't know how far she had traveled, but she gathered that she was somewhere near the train tracks when she saw a boxcar float by. She turned her head toward a glowing light and saw that the moon – a full moon, no less – had poked its nose through a hole in the swirling clouds.

When she passed between the wreckage of two large buildings and drifted into open water, Emily began to believe she might make it. If she could simply hold on to the raft for a few more hours she would eventually reach dry land or find another way to safety.

Emily held on to that happy thought until she peered into the distance and saw what appeared to be two low trees – trees that could easily stop her advance and allow the waves to flip the raft. She got up on her knees and looked for something she could use to paddle around the trees and found what she needed in the form of a four-foot piece of siding.

Emily pulled the narrow board from the water and began to paddle furiously as the current propelled her toward the trees. She cheered when she cleared the first tree and cheered again when she started to move away from the second.

She never had a chance to cheer a third time. When she lifted the board out of the water and prepared to paddle again, she was struck in the back of the head by flying debris.

Emily dropped her paddle in the water as her head grew light. She threw out her hands when she plunged forward but succeeded only in partially breaking her fall. She fell flat on the rough wood as the raft crashed into the second tree.

As she slid face first toward the edge of the raft and began to drift toward unconsciousness, Emily became aware of numbness, pain, and burning. Water rushed into her mouth and then her lungs. When she tried to push herself up, waves, wind, and wood conspired to hold her down.

She battled for a few more seconds and then slowly gave up the fight. There were worse things, she thought, than drowning in a hurricane. Never knowing love came to mind.

Emily felt the burning sensation intensify and then lessen as she began to relax. She thought of Anna and Justin and her parents in heaven before she welcomed the encroaching darkness.

In the next moment, Emily Beck found what she had searched for her entire life. She found contentment and tranquility. She found happiness and peace.

CHAPTER 80: CHUCK

Sunday, September 9, 1900

Standing near the bow of the
Harmony
, a sleek thirty-foot sailboat, Charles Townsend looked down and watched the bodies go by in a blur. He didn't flinch.

He knew there was a chance – a good chance, in fact – that his son was a part of the carnage in Galveston Bay, but he refused to believe the worst. He wouldn't succumb to his fears unless he had a reason. He knew if there was one person who could survive this mind-numbing tragedy, it was the young man who knew how it would all play out.

"Thank you for doing this," Chuck said.

"It's the least I could do after all you did for me," Wyatt said. "I owe you, my friend. I owe you more than I can possibly repay."

Chuck didn't know about that. While it was true that he had helped to free Wyatt from jail, Wyatt had done something no other private citizen had been able to do. He had secured a ride to Galveston, Texas, the morning after it had been hit by one of the worst hurricanes in history.

"Can he get us there?"

"I think so," Wyatt said. "He knows the harbor better than I do."

Chuck stared blankly at what was left of the nation's fourth-largest seaport.

"I ask only because I don't
see
a harbor. All I see are piles of sticks."

"It doesn't matter. He knows where to go," Wyatt said.

Chuck didn't doubt that. He knew that Dave Schmidt, a longtime friend of Wyatt's, knew the local waters as well as anyone. What he doubted was whether the skipper could sail a pleasure craft through a minefield of debris that appeared to stretch the length of the waterfront.

Chuck had seen such wreckage all morning. No matter where he had looked, he had seen mountains of twisted wood and metal.

Some piles had already drifted across the bay and run aground. Others still floated aimlessly in the water. A few collected on pilings that once supported a trestle.

Chuck turned away from the water and looked at Wyatt, who was busy at work on his fifth cigarette. He could only imagine what he was thinking as he looked at the destruction.

"Are you all right?" Chuck asked.

"I'm fine," Wyatt said. "My challenges are small compared to those of others. My ships are safe. My assets are secure. I should be back in business by the end of the year."

"I'm sure you will."

"What saddens me is that I will have to rebuild without Rose at my side and without the help of my traitorous brother. Life will be different now."

"It will be different for all of us."

Wyatt lowered his cigarette and turned to face Chuck.

"That's enough about me. Let's talk about finding your son," Wyatt said. "Why do you think he went to the Tremont? He could have gone anywhere."

"I think he went to the hotel because he knew it would survive the storm, just like he knew the Ursuline Academy would survive it. Justin had read about both places in the news articles we brought with us. He knew which buildings would make it and which ones wouldn't."

"I see," Wyatt said.

"I figured that we would start with the Tremont, since it's closest to the harbor, and then walk to the school, if necessary," Chuck said. "I suspect we might be here a while."

Wyatt took a puff.

"You say that like you know something."

"I know only that finding Justin is going to be very difficult if he's not where I think he is," Chuck said. "Then there are the Becks. Don't forget about them. I made a promise to Anna before we left the house that I would bring her family back. I don't want to let her down."

Chuck thought about Anna as he glanced at the rapidly approaching waterfront. He had regretted making the promise as soon as he had made it. He couldn't guarantee a happy outcome for her any more than he could for himself. For all he knew, the Becks were already dead.

Chuck also thought about his pregnant wife and wondered how she was coping in his absence. He had asked her to stay behind to look after Anna and was more than relieved when she agreed to do it. He had not wanted to traipse through a death zone with an eight-year-old.

"Do you know where we might find them?" Wyatt asked.

"I don't," Chuck said. "The only thing I'm sure about is that we won't find them at home. I know from the news articles that the storm wiped out their neighborhood. If the Becks managed to survive, they did so by seeking refuge in a hotel or a public building."

"Then it sounds like we'll be looking for your family and Anna's in the same places."

Chuck nodded.

"If we're lucky, we'll find them together. I can't imagine celebrating much in light of all this, but I'd celebrate that. If we find them alive, I will never again complain about my troubles."

"That makes two of us," Wyatt said.

Chuck put his hand on Wyatt's shoulder and gave it a pat. He didn't know how much longer he would have this man in his life, but he was happy to have him now.

Chuck started to expand on his point but stopped when he heard the skipper bark orders at his two teenage sons, who formed the crew of the
Harmony
. He watched the boys lower the sails and their father steer the boat to the edge of what was once a long pier. A moment later, he heard a splash. Schmidt had dropped anchor, bringing the vessel to a complete stop.

The skipper let go of the wheel in back and stepped carefully toward the front. When he reached his passengers in the bow, he pointed to his watch.

"I have ten fifteen, gentlemen. I suggest you set your watches to the same," Schmidt said. "I will return at six o'clock each of the next three mornings. If I have not heard from you by Wednesday, you're on your own."

"Thank you," Wyatt said. "I owe you, Dave."

The skipper smiled sadly.

"Just bring back your man, Wyatt. That will be payment enough," Schmidt said. He glanced at the stern, where his sons untied a rowboat. "My boys will take you the rest of the way and give you each a bag of provisions. Use them wisely. Godspeed to both of you."

CHAPTER 81: JUSTIN

Justin sat on the front steps of the Ursuline Academy and stared at a city he knew would never be the same. To his left he saw men pull bodies from houses that had fused together during the night. To his right he saw women search through debris for personal belongings.

He knew it would be bad. He had read all about it on the train trip to Texas. Yet nothing he had read could prepare him for what he saw now. Galveston on September 9, 1900, was not merely a hurricane scene. It was Nagasaki, Pompeii, and Katrina New Orleans rolled into one.

Justin gazed at the destruction a few more seconds and then turned his attention to something far more important and immediate. He threw his arm around the girl who had lost more than a home, pulled her close, and kissed her on top of the head.

"Is there anyone I can contact?" Justin asked.

"I have an aunt and uncle in Corpus Christi," Amelia said.

"What are their names?"

"Jo and Jimmy Gaines."

"I'll send them a telegram as soon as I can," Justin said. "You just have to promise me that you'll stay right here until they come for you. Will you do that?"

Amelia nodded.

Justin adjusted the blanket over Amelia's shoulders and then pulled her close once again. He didn't know why he felt a need to comfort and protect this one individual, when there were so many others who needed help, but he suspected it had a lot to do with her appearance and the sound of her name. Amelia reminded him of the woman he had given up and maybe already lost.

"Justin?" Amelia asked in a weak voice.

"Yeah?"

Amelia lifted her head and looked at him with sad, vacant eyes.

"Do you
have
to leave?"

Justin frowned.

"I'm afraid I do."

Justin sighed when he thought more about the question – a question he had considered many times. In the context that it had been asked, it was easy to answer. In other contexts, it was difficult. It was difficult because of fears, concerns, and doubts that had cropped up over the weekend. The answer to the question depended entirely on who or what he was leaving.

He had to leave Amelia, of course. No matter how much he might want to look after her in the coming days, he knew he couldn't. He had his own family to find and a tight schedule to consider. As soon as he heard from his father or was able to leave the island, he would turn the girl over to the nuns or other authorities and resume his regularly scheduled life.

Whether he had to leave Emily was an entirely different matter. He didn't
have
to do anything. It was true that if he wanted to return to 2016 and she was unwilling to go with him, then he would, in fact, have to leave her. That much had been etched in stone for almost a week. On the other hand, if he were willing to stay in 1900, he wouldn't have to leave her at all.

Justin had considered staying put several times and had always dismissed it out of hand. As much as he loved Emily Beck, he loved his time and his world even more. No woman was worth giving up everything he had ever known. It was that simple.

At least it had seemed that simple before a Category 4 hurricane had forced him to take a hard look at his life, reexamine his priorities, and revisit questions he thought he had asked and answered.

Could he really walk away from Emily after all this? Did he miss the comforts and conveniences of the modern world so much that he was willing to give up the love of his life?

Justin didn't have the answers. He knew only that he would never again find someone as interesting, intelligent, and engaging as the spirited girl from Tenth and M. He loved her as much as he loved a mother who now existed only in his memories. The issue now was whether he loved her enough to seriously consider a course that had been, until now, unthinkable.

He set aside the matter for the time being and returned his attention to the street, where men, women, and children with expressionless faces walked by in a slow procession. None spoke. None screamed or wailed. They simply moved from one debris pile to another in a seemingly fruitless search for people, property, and meaning.

Justin had expected as much. He had seen the same thing earlier that morning, when he had left Amelia's side and made a long and difficult trip to the Tremont and the police station. He had wanted to ask about the Becks, leave messages for his father, and survey a damaged city that would likely be his home for at least two more days.

What he saw on the way over and on the way back had confirmed his worst fears. The hurricane had not only damaged Galveston, Texas. It had incapacitated it.

The wind and the water had turned wooden houses into toothpicks and brick buildings into rubble. They had also reduced the population of the city by at least one sixth.

No matter where Justin had looked – or stepped – he had found corpses. He had found them piled on porches, hanging in trees, and half-buried in mud. He had seen so many in the first half hour alone that he had become numb to their sight and even their smell, which had attracted rats by the hundreds. That, he knew, would soon be an issue that no one could ignore.

Justin looked again at the silent procession and noticed that many of the children walked alone or with others their age. He suspected that more than a few had become orphans overnight, much like the dazed and confused teenage girl he held in his arms.

Justin started to return his attention to that girl when he saw something in the distance that seemed out of the ordinary – or at least out of the ordinary on an ironically bright sunny day. He saw two men – not two men in ragged clothes who walked slowly but rather two men in crisp suits who walked with purpose. He recognized both from fifty yards.