The small group of survivors continued their journey. Others joined them along the way. No one could explain why, but they all followed the man in the strange half-mask.
Erik stopped, giving the stragglers a chance to catch up and the others a needed rest. Lillian came up to him, a small child sleeping contentedly on her shoulder. "His mother needed a short break from carrying him."
Another woman in the group came up to Lillian, arms outstretched. "I can take a turn with him now." Lillian gave the child over, seeing the tears leaking from the woman's eyes as she carried the little boy back to the others.
"That's Daisy McGill." Lillian said, reaching to hold Erik's hand. "She'd just stepped out of her front door to collect the morning paper when it hit. Her house collapsed. No one else got out. She seems to take a little comfort in helping some of the others with their children."
He squeezed her hand in sympathy. It seemed everyone in the group had similar stories of escape. He didn't think there was one among them who hadn't lost someone.
"It's a good idea to pair up and take turns with the smaller children." He said, scanning their surroundings. "But even the stronger people need a rest. We should try and find some wagons, or anything with wheels we could use as transport for the elderly and children. We've still got a ways to go and it will be dangerous after dark."
"Dangerous? Do you think there will be another earthquake." The ground shook as if in reply to her words.
"No. I think the worst is over. We've been feeling aftershocks all day, but I don't think there will be another big quake." He looked grim, wiping the sweat from his uncovered skin. "I was thinking about looters."
"Looters? What kind of a world do you live in, Erik?" She looked up at him in disbelief. "People just went through a horrendous experience. You can't believe that others would take advantage of the tragedy."
"I believe in human nature." His voice was low. "You come from a world of privilege and manners and it's not in your nature to be anything less than kind and caring. You're naïve if you think there aren't people who would take any opportunity to steal. I know because I lived among them. It won't be any different tonight; if anything it will be worse because the looters will be desperate for anything they can get. Anyone who's out without protection is a potential victim."
"You're worried about them." She turned to look again at the group. Walsh was starting to rouse them from their spots sitting on the ground.
"Yes, I am worried, especially for the little ones and the elders. But we cannot stop," he insisted. "We've got to keep moving. Our lives may well depend upon it."
She looked at him closely, not liking what she saw. He was exhausted physically and mentally. The events of the past two days were difficult for him, combined with the horrors of today, she was worried that he'd almost reached the end of his endurance. "Erik you've got to rest."
"I am. I'm resting now."
"No. You're not." She was pushing and she knew it, but she had to make him see the damage he was doing to himself. "Stop being so damn stubborn, Boy. Let Walsh or one of the other men take the lead."
He shook his head. "I can't. They're depending on me, even Walsh." He looked at her, trying to find the words for the feelings that were overwhelming him. "Nobody. Nobody has ever looked up to me, depended on me, needed me." He bit his lip, blinking away tears of exhaustion. "Until today, no one has ever looked at me as anything other than a monster."
"I have."
Her quiet words went straight to his heart. "I know. I know that, and you have no idea how much that means to me." He looked over the group. They were sitting and resting, but it was more than that. They were comforting each other, helping each other, sharing what small supplies of food and water some of them had been able to take from the destruction. And every now and again, one of them looked up and smiled at him. "They trust me, Lillian. Me. I can't let them down."
"You won't." She pulled him into a hug, sensing he needed the comfort as much as she did. She looked over his shoulder in the direction of the city. "That's odd."
"What?"
"Is it my imagination or is it darker over there." She pointed back in the direction from which they'd come. "See, those strange clouds so near the rooftops."
"Oh, gods," he whispered. "We've got to go now." He took a deep breath and sent his voice over the group. "Let's go. NOW! We've got to move."
"Erik, what's wrong?" His sudden change in attitude scared her.
"Those aren't clouds, Lillian. It's smoke. The city is on fire." He ran into the group of parents with small children, scooping up a toddler and urging others who were unburdened to do the same. "We've got to move quickly. Pair up, no one walks alone. Keep an eye on each other." He waited a few moments more until he saw they'd followed his orders. Then he turned away from the ruins of San Francisco, moving with single-minded purpose toward the safety he hoped awaited them in the hills.
. . . .
Erik lost all track of time. They were close, so close. He hoped another hour or so more of walking should get them there by nightfall. Just keep moving, put one foot in front of the other. Don't stop. Can't stop. Must keep going. The litany repeated over and over and over in Erik's mind. "Don't stop," he whispered. "Can't stop. Keep going." He trudged mindlessly forward, occasionally pausing for a second or two to make sure the others were still with him. To make sure that Lil was still with him.
Somewhere during the hellish trek, he'd stopped thinking of her as Lillian and started calling her Lil in his mind. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just that it took too much effort to think of three syllables instead of one. Lil was pretty. Lil was strong, tall, and fearless, just like her. Maybe someday, if they both lived through this hellish time, he'd call her Lil to her face. If he ever saw her again after she'd left to go back to England.
"Erik." He heard his name, but it didn't quite register. "Erik, stop."
Tom Walsh ran up to him, physically blocking his path. "Hey, didn't you hear me?"
Did he? "What do you want?" He was tired. So tired. There was a heavy weight in his arms, resting on his shoulder. What was it? He wanted to put it down but knew that he shouldn't. Couldn't. Had to keep going. Had to carry it, no matter what.
"Hand him over." Walsh gestured with both hands. "C'mon."
Him? Who? Erik was confused. What did the man want?
"You're dead on your feet, Fella." Walsh reached over to take the sleeping child from Erik's arms. "You been carrying him for a few hours. Let me take over. 'Kay?"
Carrying? He'd been carrying a child? When did the child get so heavy? Erik swallowed, trying to work past the dryness in his mouth and throat. He looked down, seeing a curly brown head resting against his shoulder. He saw that he was wearing an unfamiliar black jacket and the child was somehow buttoned into it with his little legs wrapped around Erik's waist.
Then he remembered; he'd stood shivering in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat on a street corner during one of the group's earliest rest breaks. Someone came up to him and urged him to take the jacket. It was far too large, but it provided an extra layer of warmth, replacing the evening jacket he'd passed on to a woman wearing only a nightgown.
"Erik."
He felt a light hand on his shoulder. Who? He looked down, brown eyes with green and gold flecks looked up at him. He knew those eyes, recognized them from somewhere. "Lil…." His voice trailed off; he didn't have the energy to speak.
"Erik, sit down." She pulled at his shoulder and his legs folded. "That's it." He was leaning partly against something soft with the faintest hint of jasmine. "Here, have some water." Cool liquid touched his lips and he opened them to drink. It tasted so good, better than the finest champagne. His eyes slid closed but he forced them open. No. He couldn't sit. Had to get up. Had to keep moving, get away, get his people to safety. He tried to stand again and hands held him in place.
"Easy, easy." A man's voice this time. "It's okay Mr. Dantes. We're close to the hill now. You can rest for a little bit. We can all rest for a little."
Erik nodded, letting his eyes close once again. He took a deep breath, pulling in smoke and jasmine. Odd combination. Where was he? Jasmine. Persia? No. No Persia was a long, long time ago. Someone was stroking his cheek and speaking softly to him. A woman. "Christine?" His voice was a raspy whisper.
"No, darling, it's Lillian."
Lillian. His eyes flew open. Earthquake. Trapped, then freed. Walking. Hours and hours walking. His scattered thoughts coalesced as her face sharpened into focus. "Lillian. Where?"
"Shhh, it's all right. We all needed to stop and rest a little." She continued stroking his uncovered cheek.
Erik looked to the western horizon. The sun was starting to set and he could clearly see the unearthly glow from the fires in the city. He had to get them to safety before dark. He looked around again, suddenly realizing that they weren't the only people moving toward the hill. More clusters of people were following. Others who'd realized their safety lay in getting out of the city.
He was glad to see them. He'd been so focused on the people surrounding him, on getting them to safety, that he'd forgotten there had to be others who also escaped the disaster. Good. It was good. There'd be more safety for them in larger groups.
"We've got to go on," he pressed, stumbling to his feet. "It's not far now. We've got to get up that hill where we'll be safe." Every bone and muscle in his body ached. His right arm was on fire, but he couldn't stop. Couldn't let them be harmed. Had to save them. Had to save her.
Seeing him rise, the other members of the group began picking themselves up from the ground, preparing to follow him once again.
A cry arose from several of the people ahead of them. Erik tensed, preparing to fight whatever unknown danger lay ahead. The sound changed, the people were cheering. Why were they cheering? Then he saw it, a wagon driven by soldiers followed by other soldiers heading toward them.
Lillian grabbed him by the arms and he stifled a cry as pain lanced up his right arm. "We're safe, Erik. It's the army come to help us. We're safe; you saved us!"
"Safe," he murmured, pulling her against him and leaning in to her warmth. It was cold. He was cold, almost shivering.
His right sleeve was damp where she touched it. She pulled her hand away, looking in horror as her palm came away stained with red. Erik collapsed to his knees, bringing her down with him. "Walsh! TOM!"
"Lillian!" He came running up to them. "Erik what's wrong?"
She was tearing at the buttons on Erik's coat. "Help me get this off him. I think he's bleeding again." They pulled the jacket off and she bit her lip to keep from screaming. Erik's entire right sleeve was soaked with blood. The stitches must have torn. "He's probably been bleeding for hours. Why didn't he say something?"
She looked up as one of the Army wagons drove near. "HELP! Help Us! He's bleeding badly!"
The driver pulled over and two soldiers jumped from the back. "Dump the supplies here and get a stretcher and the aid kit," the driver ordered, then jumped down and ran to them.
Lillian looked up from where Erik had collapsed beside her. Walsh helped her tear away the bloody sleeve. "He was shot Monday afternoon." She pulled at the blood-drenched bandage wound around his upper arm revealing the ugly gouge the bullet left in his skin. The stitches she'd placed were gone and the wound was bleeding freely.
"I'm Corporal Willis, ma'am," the driver said. "We've got a camp at the top." He gestured up the hill. "The docs there can help him."
She nodded mutely, holding Erik's hand as Walsh helped the two soldiers place him on the stretcher and then lift him into the wagon.
"Help distribute the food and water to anyone who needs it. Then escort them to camp." Willis ordered the soldiers. "Any other injured?" he called to the group. When he received no answer he turned to Lillian and Walsh. "You can get in and come with him, if you want."
Walsh shook his head. "No. I'll stay with the group, make sure everyone gets up there all right." He looked at Lillian. "You stay with Erik."
She read the unspoken message in his eyes. Walsh didn't know what was under Erik's mask, but he knew it wasn't something Erik wanted revealed, especially if he was unable to stop it from happening. She nodded, "I'll take care of him."
"Good luck, I'll see you both up top." Walsh gave her arm a reassuring squeeze then turned back to their small group of survivors.
Lillian climbed into the wagon and sat at Erik's side. She picked up his hand, pressing it to her breast. "I'm here, Erik. You're safe. We're taking you to get help." Tears started to fall and she couldn't stop them. "You stupid, stubborn man. Why didn't you tell anyone you were hurt?" She felt a slight squeeze to her hand. Erik's eyes were open; he was looking at her.
"They're all right," she said, stroking the side of his face. His other hand came up, brushing over his mask. "It's still on. Do you want to loosen it so the doctors can examine you?"
"No," he breathed. His eyes widened and he tried to pull out of her grasp. "No. Don't let them…."
She realized he was terrified of being uncovered. Gods, what had happened to him that he was so very afraid? "Shhh, I won't. I promise, I won't let them take it off." She brushed his lips with her fingers. "Just rest now. We're safe. We're all safe. You saved us."
Erik let his eyes fall shut. They were safe. She was safe. That's all that mattered. He stopped fighting and surrendered to the darkness.