Free Earthquake by Kathleen Duey Page A

accepts,” she said to her uncle, feeling a small twinge at the lie. Lies attracted demons.
    â€œOnly one,” her uncle responded.
    She turned to Brendan. “He owes one favor.”
    â€œThen tell him I want you to be able to marry whoever you want,” Brendan said. He smiled impishly at her.
    Dai Yue caught her breath. She gathered her courage and repeated the favor in Chinese.
    Her uncle went rigid, his face draining of color again.He coughed hard for a long time. Dai Yue saw a tiny trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. “You asked for this favor,” her uncle accused once he had caught his breath.
    Dai Yue looked into his eyes. “I would not steal what he earned.”
    Her uncle coughed again. The smoke was getting thicker. “I grant this favor. Now tell him to go.”
    Dai Yue turned to Brendan. “He says yes. He says you go now.”
    The startled look on Brendan’s face tugged at Dai Yue’s heart. She turned to her uncle. “Let him come with us.”
    Dai Yue’s uncle spat once more. “I have no strength to waste in argument.” He walked off with an odd swaying motion, then stopped at the corner to cough again. Dai Yue stayed just behind him. When he was not looking, she reached to touch Brendan’s hand.
    â—ŠÂ â—ŠÂ â—Š
    Brendan could barely breathe. The smoke clawed at his throat and lungs as he followed Dai Yue and her uncle along Clay Street. There were so many people fleeing the fires that it was almost impossible to tell which way they should go. There was smoke in everydirection. All they could do was keep going, keep heading into areas that weren’t yet ablaze.
    Dai Yue’s uncle was coughing almost constantly now and he leaned heavily on her as they walked. Once or twice Brendan steadied him from the opposite side, but met a glare of such hatred that he backed away again.
    Brendan glanced at Dai Yue. She was watching her uncle, her worry showing plainly in her eyes. There was blood on his lips and on his cheeks. He coughed again, doubling over, but somehow he kept going.
    The sky was filling with smoke. The street seemed dusky, as though it were evening, not midafternoon. There was a strange reddish color in the light, too. It tinted the buildings, people’s faces, the ground itself—making everything seem flushed, unnatural.
    Brendan felt his stomach grinding. He was so hungry. He had been a fool not to eat at the shops they had walked through. He swallowed painfully. Even more than he wanted food, he wanted water. Brendan felt Dai Yue tug at the back of his shirt. He turned to face her.
    â€œUncle rest now.”
    Brendan shook his head. “Not here. The fires are too close.”
    Dai Yue spoke to her uncle. He spat, cursing, and glared at Brendan. Then he said something to Dai Yue, coughing violently between rushes of angry-sounding words.
    â€œHe can go no more,” Dai Yue said. “We stop now.”
    Brendan looked up at the sky. The smoke had closed over the city now, shutting out the sun, cutting San Francisco off from the rest of the world. Brendan felt the tug on his shirt again.
    â€œWe stop there.” Dai Yue pointed at the corner.
    â€œOnly for a few minutes,” Brendan told her. He could see that her uncle was badly hurt, but if they didn’t get out of the way of the fires, they would all be dead.
    Dai Yue helped her uncle up onto the sidewalk. He staggered forward, then turned to sit down, his back propped against the wall of a residential hotel. The tenants were scrambling in and out of the front door, loading trunks and boxes. One man had a delicately painted delivery wagon advertising a piano-moving company. The horse was exhausted, its head low, almost touching the cobblestones.
    Brendan watched Dai Yue sink down beside her uncle. She looked different somehow—younger, more timid. A sudden commotion made Brendan turn and look across the intersection at the far