On the morning of April 18th, 1906, an unexpected earthquake struck the city of San Francisco at 5:12 in the morning. Fires started throughout the city, and countless lives were lost as a result of the close-set buildings.
It was the sudden, bone-jarring tremor that woke them up from a deep slumber. Alfred was the first to abruptly sit up in alarm, fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand and letting out a stream of curses when the tremors did not cease. Arthur nearly fell off the corner of the bed after a vicious jolt, regained his balance right before tumbling, and looked to Alfred with fear and surprise painted in his emerald eyes.
"What is happening?"
"It's an earthquake, stay down!"
Alfred had to shout to be heard over the loud creaks and thunderous rumbles of the old building swaying, standing upright by some miracle. Screams floated through the open bedroom window, filling the room with the shrieks of terror from the neighbours and pedestrians on the streets below. Alfred looked on in despair as the world around them seemed to shatter and crumble further with every rupture, destroying the small semblance of a home he shared with Arthur.
All around them paintings were falling from the walls; assorted knick-knacks toppling from the nightstands and breaking into fragments upon contact with the floor. Windows cracked and broke under the immense pressure, and the loudest crashes of all seemed to come from their very own home. The walls thudded as furniture on the other side slid and fell over; one particular scream came from Arthur himself as the bed lurched forward with a sickening crack Alfred was sure came from the very foundation of the building.
Then, just as suddenly as they had started, the tremors stopped and the city was deadly silent for what seemed like an eternity. Time seemed to stop altogether, and Alfred could only hear the deep, shuddery breaths of Arthur beside him, along with the howling and barking of dogs running rampant in the city. Cries of despair soon floated through the air however, breaking the spell of silence, and the sound of wailing sirens began to pierce through the early morning as the city came back to life.
Alfred snapped out of his stupor and came back to life as well, running to the door of their bedroom and attempting to throw it open, only to find that the hinges were locked stiff and would not open more than an inch. Alfred slammed an open palm on the door and let out a resounding, "Crap!" in a fit of anger, before returning to the bedroom morosely.
The sight of Arthur, holding on to himself tightly and furled into a small ball on the corner of the bed, immediately changed Alfred's resolve from anger to steadfast concern.
"We're sort of stuck here," Alfred reported seriously, taking a seat beside Arthur and clutching the other's smaller hand in his own. "The door's stuck. It won't budge."
"I see."
"But it's alright, the good guys are gonna come rescue us. They're already out and about; you can hear all the sirens and horses*. They'll have us out of here in no time. We're safe here anyways."
Together they sat in silence, Alfred thinking of ways to take down the door without leverage and Arthur thinking of something undoubtedly grave. Then the unmistakable scent of something burning floated into the room and caused both men to stiffen.
The faint scent of smoke permeated the air and Alfred felt the nausea rising in his throat, coupled with a nagging sense of growing fear and wariness in the back of his mind. If something had caught on fire, whether outside or inside of their building, the entire structure would burn to the very ground in a matter of seconds. Then the sparks would spread to the houses and apartments in nearby vicinity.
Peeking out the broken window, Alfred could make out the distinct form of smoke and flames in the heart of the city. Ashes from burnt buildings carried in the strong wind, coating the windowsill with debris an ominous shade of charcoal. Alfred didn't like it at all. With how closely set the building complexes were, and with how strongly the winds were sweeping by, it wouldn't take long at all for the fire to reach the bay area. From there, their own building would go up in flames.
Alfred didn't notice that Arthur had crept to his side until the bushy-browed male's hand brushed against his own. Arthur's face was solemn, even more so than usual, and Alfred could nearly see the gears of his mind working to make sense of the situation. Alfred waited somewhat patiently for Arthur to recognise how grim the predicament was. It didn't take long.
"We aren't making it out of here alive, are we?"
The pool of fear and anxiety in Alfred's stomach seemed to deepen as Arthur quietly voiced the one thought he had been afraid to think, let alone speak aloud. But dying at a young age in a burning building was too ludicrous an idea, despite the very real possibility of exactly that happening. Alfred scoffed and walked back towards their bed, perching himself on the corner. "What are you talking about? Of course we're making it out of here alive." Alfred's hollow tone betrayed his words.
"In fact, I'm sure the city fire fighters are on the way here already, just to make sure we'll be safe from the fire over here. And it seems like the fire is only in the city, and we're right next to the fire stations just in case, and we're on the bay, so it's not like any of the houses here will catch fire anyways, since we're so far away from it...the fire fighters will put it out before it even reaches us! Then they'll inspect the buildings and rescue us with their ponies, and we'll be absolutely fine. By tomorrow, it'll even be a funny memory, the time we were trapped in our room!" Alfred didn't realise that he was ranting with near-hysteria until Arthur placed one finger gently over his lips, a pronounced frown creasing his brows.
"You're right, of course. We'll be entirely fine. As you said, the fire is in the city. And the fire fighters will find us. We'll be quite alright." Arthur's low voice reassured with such a simple confidence that Alfred could do nothing but fully trust in the Briton's words, despite knowing that they were nothing but half-truths. The bed shifted and creaked quietly with added weight once Arthur sat silently beside him.
The sickening scent of smoke hung heavily in the room, deepening with every passing minute.
"They're lit." Arthur's soft murmur was barely heard above the screams of trapped inhabitants across the street.
The buildings across the street were tagged by the infectious flames. It wouldn't take long for their building to catch a spark, if they were not already set aflame.
Deadly black plumes of smoke began to creep in from beneath the jammed door. Their building was already lit. Alfred and Arthur made the realisation at the same time.
A sad, hopeless smile quirked at the corners of Arthur's lips.
"You were panicking for a moment back then, Al. You almost had me thinking we wouldn't make it out of here."
Alfred immediately caught on. "Sorry about that. But at least we know better. We know that we're going to get out of here. We still have a lot of things to do, you know. Visit England together, drink tea with the Queen..."
Arthur chuckled lowly. "You know that we can't drink tea with the Queen. That's like trying to eat lunch with the President."
"Then we'll do that too! And we still have a few more dates to go on too."
"Just a few?"
"Well yeah, and then we're going to get married of course. After that, dating becomes everyday life."
"Al, we can't really get mar-"
"We'll find a way," Alfred interrupted, blue eyes sparkling in the dim room. "We're going to get married, and we'll have an enormous wedding with pretty flowers and loud music, and everything we want..."
"We'll have a house with a white picket fence in the countryside..."
"And we'll adopt a dog or something, so that we can raise it together. His name can be Cap."
"I can finally have a lovely garden..."
"...Which I will probably not ruin... And we can drink tea together every day, since you like that stuff."
"We'll fight and make up over silly things just like we always do..."
"And of course, we'll grow old together."
At that, Arthur's face broke into a blissful smile. "If such will be the case, I can't wait till we get out of h-" Loud coughs racked Arthur's body and cut off his desire, emerald eyes clouding and watering. The air was becoming harder to breath; the room harder to see. Small flames licked out from beneath the door crack.
"Me either. Life will be really, really good,"
Arthur was swaying and looked lethargic. Alfred realised all at once that they wouldn't die from being burned alive, at least.
"Lay down, Arthur. We can go to sleep. When we wake up, we'll already be rescued."
Arthur's body was small and limp like a child's ragdoll. Alfred curled the well-known body to his chest and lay back against the pillows scattered across the headboard. An overwhelming sense of serenity and inevitability washed over him.
"We're not making it out of here." Arthur's voice was weak. It wasn't a question. It was Alfred's turn to give a sad smile.
"No, we're not. I'm sorry."
"It's quite alright... I love you, Alfred Jones."
"I love you too, Arthur Kirkland."
"I'm going to sleep now, Al."
"We'll wake up together, Arthur."
"Then I can't wait for morning."
The End.
I chose to write about this particular topic, because I realised that despite the impact of this disaster, not many people seem to remember or pay attention to it; American or otherwise. It also seemed like potential angst material. Oh, and as for the *; horses were used back then to pull large trolleys and containers of water. Fire trucks didn't come until much later. Reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated.