A CALIFORNIA ROSE
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rose rushed through the streets, dodging
people and debris. The sidewalk was broken in sections, uneven chunks of
concrete scattered about. The smell of smoke grew stronger as she headed
downtown, avoiding the press of people coming the other way. Most were trying
to leave the area.
She darted around a corner, into the old
section of town. It was largely deserted, most people having left the area
hours earlier. Only the jail was in operation at this hour.
Rose looked around, horrified at the
destruction. The brick buildings, never meant to stand up to an earthquake,
were in ruins. One building had tipped over, burying the courtyard beside it in
bricks. Only two of the buildings were still standing--an ancient brick
smokehouse that had been turned in recent years to storage space, and the city
jail.
She approached the building cautiously. Part
of it had caved in, but the section that held the jail cells was mostly intact.
She prayed that that was where Jack was.
The doorway was partially blocked by fallen
bricks and masonry, but Rose managed to slip inside. Part of the ceiling had
caved in, so she proceeded cautiously.
There was little light in the building--one
lightbulb still glowed dimly, and a shattered window let in light from the
approaching fire. She would have to hurry.
Slipping carefully into the corridor that
housed the jail cells, she shouted to him.
“Jack!” she called, stumbling over fallen
bricks. “Jack!”
At the end of the corridor, he heard her
calling and responded.
“Rose! I’m in here!” He was in the last jail
cell at the end of the corridor.
When they had first brought him in, he had
been mostly worried about being convicted of theft again. It could be his
second felony conviction, and with the three strikes law, any trouble after
that--even writing a bad check--could land him in prison for decades. Then the
earthquake had struck, and as the building shook and collapsed in places, and
the smell of smoke had risen from the fire several blocks away, he had realized
that he had worse things to worry about than a prison sentence.
He was the only prisoner in the jail this
night, and the guard had fallen under a chunk of broken ceiling. No one could
let him out. A crack had appeared in the wall behind him, but it was too narrow
and the wall too strong for him to escape through. He had tried the door, but
it was still securely locked. He couldn’t get out.
He heard Rose coming down the corridor.
Pieces of debris hit the wall as her feet sent them flying. He saw her shadow
approaching long before he saw her.
“Careful, Rose,” he called to her. “The
ceiling could cave in.” Only the heavy steel bars of his jail cell had kept the
roof from caving in over him.
Rose reached his jail cell. Stumbling over a
piece of plaster, she grabbed the bars. “Jack! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Cal put the ring in my pocket.”
“I know he did.”
He kissed her through the bars. “Rose, you’re
going to have to get the keys.”
“Where are they?”
“The guard has them.” He pointed in the
direction of the desk on the other side of the hall, where a work area had
replaced one of the cells.
Rose turned to look, and gasped, horrified.
The guard was crushed under a piece of fallen masonry. One of his hands was
flung out across the desk, as though beckoning to them.
Cautiously, she approached him. As she did
so, he moaned, his hand moving slightly. He was still alive.
Rose came up to him. He looked at her
pleadingly, begging her to help him. Rose looked at him, not knowing what to
do. She held out her hand in a comforting motion, trying to reassure him.
As she moved toward him, the guard gave one
last gasp and died. Rose stared at him, stunned and shaken. She had never
watched anyone die before.
She stumbled backward, wanting to run. Only
hours earlier, this man had been alive and well, and now he was dead.
Jack’s voice stopped her. “Rose...”
She turned to look at him. “He’s dead,” she
choked out, her voice high-pitched. “I couldn’t do anything at all...”
Forgetting the keys, she hurried back to Jack, throwing her arms around him
through the bars.
Jack put his arms around her. She was
shaking, shocked by what she had seen.
The ground rumbled in another aftershock,
sending another section of the ceiling caving in toward the other end of the
corridor. The smell of smoke was stronger.
Rose remembered what she needed to do.
Pulling away from Jack, she hurried back to the guard. Trying to avoid looking
at his face, she found the keys clipped to his belt. Grabbing them, she rushed
back to the jail cell.
“Which one is it?”
“It was a silver one.”
Rose held the keys up in the dim light. There
were three silver keys.
Taking the first key, Rose tried to insert it
into the lock. It didn’t fit. Telling herself not to panic, she tried the
second one.
“Rose.” She looked up as Jack spoke her name.
“How did you find out I didn’t do it?”
“I didn’t. I just realized I already knew.”
She found the third key, hoping that this one would work.
It did. Rose turned the key in the lock,
hearing the click as it opened. Dropping the keys, she and Jack tried to open
the door, to no avail. The ceiling had split just above the door, jamming it
shut.
“Oh, no!” Rose tugged at the door, sending a
shower of plaster to the floor. The door refused to budge.
“Okay, Rose. You’re going to have to find
something to pry the door open with. Look around; there might be something in
here that will do that.”
Rose nodded, already scanning the corridor.
She glanced at the desk, then decided to look elsewhere first.
She headed back down the corridor. The
lightbulb still glowed in the darkness, but her attention was caught by the
window. The fire couldn’t be much more than a block away.
Looking around frantically, she saw a tall
cabinet that was half split open. Picking her way over to it, she opened the
doors.
It was storage for items confiscated from
prisoners that had never been claimed. Rose pawed through the items, amazed.
There were three guns, a dozen knives, two cans of pepper spray--and an axe.
She picked it up, wondering who had been carrying it.
Hurrying back down the corridor, she showed
the axe to Jack. “Will this work?”
“We’ll find out.”
Rose climbed up on a piece of debris.
Balancing precariously, she swung the axe at the lower section of the ceiling,
then ducked as bricks and plaster clattered down around her.
“Careful, Rose,” Jack told her, his hands
gripping the bars. The building had begun to fill with smoke.
Rose hit the ceiling again, then jumped down
from her perch as the obstruction fell away. Jack pushed the door open--just as
the remaining ceiling gave way.
“Look out!” he shouted as he pulled Rose out
of the way. The ceiling collapsed where Rose had been standing, forcing the
door shut again. Now they were both locked inside the jail cell.
The smoke was billowing in, choking them.
Feeling around on the floor outside the bars, Jack found the axe where Rose had
dropped it. Pulling it through, he told Rose to stand back.
Coughing, he attacked the crack in the wall
with the axe. It widened, bricks falling away. Another blow from the axe, and
part of the earthquake-damaged wall collapsed, leaving a space wide enough for
them to climb through.
The fire was across the street from them,
devouring everything in its path. Jack took Rose’s hand and pulled her along,
away from the flames, back toward the other side of town.