Eastland Page 7

As far as our driver was concerned, we were wasting a trip to another hospital. Best we head straight to the morgue. I knew Karel shared those feelings, but he instructed Salvatore to proceed to Franklin. We climbed inside.

  “Thank you, Karel, for not giving up.”

  He patted my hand and then turned to stare out the window. I gazed out my own window, lost in thoughts too terrifying to utter out loud.

  “You wait in the cab,” Karel said as Lucille came to a stop near the emergency entrance. “No point in the both of us going in. If I find her—”

  “When you find her.”

  “I appreciate your optimism, Dee, but I need you to be prepared.” He flipped up the collar on his sack coat to ward off the rain and disappeared inside.

  I put a hand over my heart and pleaded with my watch. Make Mae be here. She had to be here. I didn’t think I could stomach the morgue, yet as I released that thought, I knew I’d have to bear up. I checked the time. It was nine-forty. Fourteen hours had passed since the capsizing.

  How many lives had been forever altered in that time? How many families had been ripped apart? How many hearts had been broken? And what about work? How many employees had survived? How could Western Electric go on with so many lost? I folded my hands and prayed.

  Karel poked his head inside the carriage. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you.” He ducked back out.

  “No! Please, come inside. Tell me what you found.”

  Karel climbed into the cab and sat close beside me. His lips were knotted so tightly, I could barely see them. My heart raced with fear.

  “You’ll need those prayers tonight.”

  “Then she’s not …”

  Karel dropped his head. My mind swirled as my scrap of hope shrank to a thread.

  “I’ll take you home.” He tapped the back of Salvatore’s seat. “We need to return to Cicero.”

  “No!” I screamed, louder than I’d meant to. “I’m going with you!”

  I had to follow this through to the end. I thought of Mrs. Koznecki, the strain of not knowing. It had to be better to know the worst than to know nothing at all.

  Karel inclined his head and studied me. “Okay, you win. Sal,” he called. “Please take us to the Second Regiment Armory. Washington at Curtis.”

  12

  Since it was nearing midnight, I’d envisioned the streets surrounding the Second Regiment Armory to be fairly deserted. I had assumed wrong. Police directed a steady stream of hearses and delivery trucks traveling to and from the temporary morgue, dropping off their loads of unknown corpses and transferring identified bodies to their homes to be waked. Family members, their faces tense with resignation and fear, poured out of cars and cabs. Like Karel, these unfortunates had been left with the unthinkable task of finding a missing loved one. The damp night air resonated with the sounds of their anguished sobs.

  “Can there really be this many bodies? This many families?” I watched as the crowd outside the Armory was ushered into some semblance of a line along one outside wall.

  “Not everyone is family,” said Salvatore. “There’s probably more curious than grieving.”

  “People want to go in there? On purpose?”

  But of course, they did. After witnessing the mob that had descended on the capsized Eastland, why was I so surprised?

  I sat quietly, trying to prepare myself for what was to come. But try as I might, it proved beyond my limited capabilities to imagine what awaited us inside. The most I could hope for was that I would not faint or run or become completely unraveled.

  “Here’s where the line ends.” Salvatore brought the cab to a halt alongside the curb, a block and a half from the Armory entrance. “I’ll let Lucille rest. We’ll be waiting here when you get back.” He hopped down and held the door open for us.

  Karel and I climbed out and turned to leave, but Salvatore called after us. He reached into the cab and brought out my umbrella.

  “You forgot this.” He passed the umbrella to Karel. “You only have the one?”

  “One is all we’ll need.” Karel nodded at me. I returned the nod.

  One would keep him close to me tonight.

  Karel worked on opening the umbrella as Salvatore walked around to the front of his horse.

  “You’re my good girl.” He rubbed Lucille’s nose. “Aren’t you?” Salvatore reached into his pocket to retrieve something and then opened his palm to reveal three sugar cubes. Lucille didn’t wait for an invitation, but slurped up the sugar with one lick of her long, pink tongue. Salvatore laughed.

  Had I heard right? Had our driver actually laughed out loud? How could he, at a time like this? But what was he supposed to do? Men still had to work. Horses had to eat. Life rolled on.

  But how?

  Yet I knew that even though my heart might be shattered tonight, I too, would have to go on. Each coming day I’d have to persevere, if not for my sake, then for Mama’s. But would I ever laugh again? I peeked up at Karel, standing beside me, and hoped my future, however distant, held some measure of happiness.

  “Come on, Dee. Let’s find our place.” Karel kept the opened umbrella over my head as we walked toward the end of the line.

  “You’re getting wet like that. Having only one means we share.” I pushed his hand so the umbrella covered his head as well.

  “If you really want to share.” Karel squeezed in next to me. For one brief, but precious moment, I allowed myself to smile.

  The woman at the end of the line turned around as we took our place behind her.

  “Line’s not moving yet,” she informed us. “Still haven’t opened the doors.”

  “What? Really?” Karel asked. “What’re they waiting for?”

  “Waiting for all the curious to go back home,” a man said, shouting out the last three words.

  Several people grumbled in agreement. A woman, supported by a pasty-faced boy about twelve, got in line behind us. “We’ll be homeless without your pa,” she whimpered. “What’re we gonna do?”

  “What’re we all gonna do?” asked the man who had shouted. “How am I supposed to go on without my family? My Susan, my wife? My girls?”

  “I’m quitting school,” the pale kid said to his widowed mother. “I’ll get a job. It’ll be okay. You’ll see, Ma.”

  “Your pa wanted you to have an education. Get a good job as an office boy someday.”

  “Maybe Western Electric will give me a job. I don’t need to be a crummy office boy. I could do anything.”

  But I knew Western Electric would never hire a twelve-yearold. The only work this poor kid could get would be illegal, under the table. At best, a paperboy, working on street corners in all kinds of weather for pennies.

  “We’re lost,” his mother moaned.

  I wanted to wrap my arms around her and tell her everything would work out, like her son had said. But I knew that would be a lie. Without the father’s income, their future would be uncertain.

  Unless … I turned around.

  “I’m sorry to intrude, but your husband worked for Western Electric?”

  The widow sniffled. “Six years.”

  “Then most likely you’ll get some life insurance money. The more years at the company, the more money.”

  “If only you were right. Then we might have a chance.”

  “What good is money?” asked the shouting man. “When everyone I love is dead!”

  There was no answer for that question. I sagged against the wall of the Armory to wait.

  Even at this distance from the entrance, I could smell the formaldehyde embalming fluid. It made my nose twitch. I scratched my left nostril, anxious for the questions that plagued my mind to be answered once and for all.

  If Mae really were in the Armory, then what would she look like? Would she be stiff and bloated, her beautiful face distorted for all eternity into an expression of shock and horror? Would her body be ravaged by falling debris or crushed by passengers rushing the grand staircase?

  I
popped up. “I’m not sure I can do this!”

  “Salvatore can take you home. I can manage on my own.”

  For one merciful second, I thought of leaving. Then I looked up at Karel, and that thought burst like a soap bubble. How dare I think of abandoning him in this, his worst hour? Karel Koznecki had saved my life today. I would repay him with cowardice? I snatched the umbrella.

  “Your arm must be getting tired. Let me have a turn for a while.” I held up the umbrella, though I had to stretch my arm to reach above his head.

  “You can’t stand like that all night. Come on, Dee. Give it back.”

  “No. I’ll protect you for a while.” If only from the rain.

  Karel glared at me and then shrugged. “Just for a little while.”

  We lingered there for twenty minutes, my arm drooping several times, the umbrella jabbing Karel in the back of the head. After the fifth poke, he took it back.

  “Only for a short time, remember? But thank you for the protection.” He snapped the umbrella shut and nestled up against me. “Rain’s letting up, but that doesn’t mean we can’t stay close.”

  I was leaning into him, rubbing out the muscle cramp in my hand, when a commotion erupted near the Armory entrance. “What’s happening?”

  Karel stepped out toward the curb. “Can’t see a thing.” He grumbled and got back in line.

  Two lads came strolling toward us. Karel called to them.

  “Say, fellas, you’ve come from the front. What’s all the ruckus?”

  The lads looked at each other, smirked, and sauntered toward us.

  “They’re getting ready to open the doors,” the shorter one said.

  I looked down at my watch. It was eleven-fifty-six.

  “Lost a loved one?” the taller, lanky lad asked Karel. Without waiting for an answer, the lanky one knocked Karel aside and advanced on me. “What about you, miss? Who’d you lose?”

  I could smell garlic and beer on his stale breath as he pressed against me.

  Karel seized him by the elbow. “Thanks for the information. Now, if you don’t mind.”

  “Let go o’ my friend!” His shorter partner took a menacing step toward Karel.

  “Better think twice, gentlemen.” Karel sneered at the two of them. “Don’t want to tangle with me tonight. I’m in no mood.”

  The lanky one pulled free of Karel. “Don’t want no trouble.”

  The shorter guy sniggered. “See ya, dupes.” The pair fled off into the darkness.

  Karel stared down at me, the anger in his face dissolving into concern.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Think so.” I was running my hand over my dress, smoothing out the wrinkles, when I touched the opened clasp of my purse. “This shouldn’t be.” I reached inside and pulled out my latchkey and comb. But where was … I looked up at Karel, a chill rippling through me. “My pocketbook’s missing.”

  “What? No. They wouldn’t dare!” Karel slipped his hand into his trouser pocket. “My money clip. It’s gone!” He pulled out the silk lining of his empty pocket and stared at it for one frozen moment. “We’ve been robbed!”

  “Pickpockets!” roared the shouting man. “Let’s get ’em!”

  Before I could stop him, Karel dropped the umbrella, and he and the shouting man bolted after the two thieves. The woman in front of us ran toward the street.

  “Police!” She waved her arms frantically. “Help! Help! Police!”

  Within seconds, a pair of beat cops appeared.

  “What’s all the excitement?” one asked, breathless from his run up the block. He removed his black-brimmed hat and wiped the sweat dripping down his fuzzy sideburns.

  “This poor girl’s been robbed!” The woman in front of me seized my arm and thrust it into the air. “By two young scoundrels!”

  “The Miller Brothers!” the cops said in unison.

  The second cop shook his head. “I knew those two were up to no good when I spotted ’em lurking about. So, where’re they now?”

  I wrested my arm from the woman. “My friend went after them.”

  “Shouldn’ta done that,” the second one said. “They could be armed.”

  “They have guns?” My throat went dry.

  “Probably knives.” The first cop brushed back his sweaty hair and put his hat back on. “Better for slicing purse strings.”

  Or stabbing daredevil friends crazy enough to chase after them.

  “Then you’d better get going!”

  “Which way?” they asked.

  The pale kid pointed in the direction Karel had gone. The cops took off running.

  I stared into the blackness, struggling to comprehend what had happened. Were there really people in this world capable of stealing from the grief-stricken? And right outside a morgue? Wasn’t this whole situation frightening enough without adding robbery and possible assault to our nightmare?

  “They got ’em!” The boy bounced up and down. “Here they come!”

  Karel and the shouting man appeared under a street lamp. The two cops came marching up behind them with a pair of scruffy-looking thieves in handcuffs. The shorter one’s bottom lip was bleeding down the front of his shirt. His lanky accomplice had a shiner. Spectators gathered around Karel and the shouting man, cheering and patting the two on the back. I hung back, letting Karel have his moment.

  He’d been utterly fearless tonight. He’d been fearless all day. Mae would have been proud.

  Minutes later, when all the bystanders had settled down, Karel came sauntering back. His face was flushed, his waistcoat twisted, and one side of his shirt hung out from his trousers.

  He had never looked more dashing.

  “I believe this is yours.” Karel bowed with an exaggerated flourish and then handed over my pocketbook. I shook it. Coins rattled.

  “My hero.” I kissed him on the cheek. “You saved me. Again.”

  He leaned into me, his eyes closing. My heart fluttered as his lips came closer to mine.

  “The doors are now open,” a man announced through a bullhorn. “We’ll let in twenty at a time.”

  Karel snapped back, his eyes popping open. “It’s time.”

  Everyone around us rushed back into an orderly line as my heart crashed to a cold stop.

  13

  Only twenty people at a time in the Armory meant the long line crawled forward, giving me far too many empty hours to think about the grisly task ahead. How many corpses were in the morgue? How were the bodies arranged? If it smelled this bad outside, what did it smell like in there? What would we hear? Would we even be able to recognize Mae?

  That last question swirled around and around my brain until my head hurt.

  Fortunately for me, there were plenty of distractions. Those first in line were shown to a taxicab parked near the curb. A telephone line ran from inside the Armory to the cab, where health officials waited to interrogate people before admitting them. Time after time, people were questioned and then turned away grumbling in anger. A few of those that had been asked to leave, argued with the officials, but the Health Department always won. The morbidly curious were sent on their way.

  The closer we came to the entrance, the quieter the night air became. The earlier agitation of the people in line had turned into a dread-filled stillness. Chilling screams and a damp, rotting stench seeped through the closed doors. My empty stomach convulsed. The stew and biscuits I’d eaten this afternoon had been digested hours ago. But hunger was the last thing on my mind. This night had turned into a macabre circus. I wanted more than anything for it to end.

  One way or the other, I would know the truth. Either I’d see Mae alive and waiting for me, or I’d find her corpse.

  Finally, around two-twenty Sunday morning, Karel and I reached the taxicab.

  “Name of the deceased?” asked the health official.

  “M-Mae Koznecki,” Karel stammered. I put my hand on his arm and felt him quaking beneath the cotton fabric of his sack suit.

&nbs
p; The man flipped through his papers. “Don’t see her name on the list of survivors or injured. No one’s telephoned in a report on her status. We can only assume …” He looked up, peering at us over the top of his black spectacles. His “official” expression softened. “How’re you related?”

  “Mae is my sister.”

  “And my friend.”

  Karel gave me a wilted smile. “Mae’s best friend.”

  “I see,” said the man. “Mae’s hair color? Age? Height and weight?”

  “Blonde hair, cut short,” Karel said.

  Crimped and wavy. The memory of that day in the beauty salon popped into my muddled mind.

  “Looks spectacular, Mae!” I had circled her, admiring her new haircut from all angles.

  “Crimping’s all the rage. I had to get it done.” She grabbed my hand. “You should too!”

  “What? Cut off my braid? What would Mama say?”

  “She’ll probably say you look very stylish in a bob.”

  I swatted her arm and walked away. “Mama would never permit it.”

  “Then we won’t tell her ’til it’s done.”

  A tingle of excitement rose in my chest. “What about the cost? How would I get the money?”

  “My treat for your sixteenth birthday. Now close your mouth, Dee,” Mae had scolded. “You can’t refuse a gift. Even Mama would think that impolite.”

  “Mae’s seventeen,” Karel told the official. “She was seventeen. Guess now she’ll always be.”

  It took a moment for his statement to sink into my consciousness.

  Mae would never age? She wouldn’t wrinkle? Her hair wouldn’t gray? Death had that kind of power.

  “I’m not sure about the rest,” Karel finished.

  “She’s five-foot-four,” I said.“About a hundred-twenty pounds.”

  “Thank you, miss.” Our interrogator searched through his inventory of bodies. “There are quite a few young women who fit that description.” He scribbled something onto a piece of paper. “Here’s your admittance pass.” He handed the note to Karel. “My condolences.”

  Karel took the pass, the paper quivering in his hand. “Thank you, sir.” He looked at me. “You can still change your mind and wait outside.”