There is no shelter of any kind. Nothing but trees and grass and flowers. People who arrived before us are sitting or lying on the grass while army soldiers erect a few tents. Kat and I walk among the people on the green, looking for Belinda and the baby.

But I can’t find her.

I look down at Kat, whom I’ve never seen cry before, and two tears are sliding down her cheeks. I drop her travel case to the ground and kneel down.

“We will find Belinda and the baby. They are here. Somewhere they are here. We will find them. All right?”

Several seconds tick by before she nods.

It has been many hours since we’ve eaten or had anything to drink, so I lead us to a long table of refreshments that have been set up by the military. Soldiers have appropriated food and water from restaurants and grocery stores undamaged by the quake. We wait for a long while in a queue of hungry people, watched over by armed guards who tell us that order will be strictly maintained. There is to be no pushing or shoving or angry words. But everyone is too tired and numb to demand that the queue move faster. When we finally have something to eat, I take Kat to an empty spot on the grass and we eat hard-boiled eggs, dry biscuits, and an apple each. I don’t have my lapel watch and I’ve no concept of what time it is. I just know that when we are done eating, Kat and I both fall asleep on the one blanket a Red Cross nurse gave us.

When I awake sometime later, there are more refugees all around us, and only a few more tents. Most people are sitting or lying on the grass, just like Kat and me, including many of the wounded. I want to continue the search for Belinda and the baby, but Kat is still asleep beside me.

As I wait for her to awaken I listen for snatches of news about the fires from newcomers arriving in the park with bags and baby prams and garden carts loaded with whatever they could grab out of their houses. I learn that the separate fires are joining each other now and have already devoured the downtown blocks closest to the ferry building. Firemen have tried to pump in water from the bay but the blaze has already moved inland a mile. I want so very much to find Belinda and find a carriage going south so I can get her home to San Rafaela and then Kat and I can be on our way to Arizona, but everyone is saying the roads south of downtown are all on fire or that flames block the way to the southern roads.

When at last Kat awakes, I tell her we shall resume our search for Belinda and the baby. I try to make light of our task, calling it a treasure hunt of sorts, but there is no fooling Kat. Searching for Belinda and the baby requires us to look at everyone, and some of the people arriving at the park are hurt or burned or have been separated from loved ones of their own. There is no panic as we make our way through the throngs of people, but the mood is somber.