Into the Whirlwind by Elizabeth Camden

be bigger and stronger than before. Don’t despair!”
    Mollie squinted as she tried to see the man as he strode past the church. The light of the fire was fading and he was just a shadowy, faceless figure striding through the street, like a town crier from days of old. He brought a beam of light slicing through the darkness. Others in the church stood to listen as well.
    “God has given the soul of man wings,” the town crier said. “We will use those wings to carry us into daylight. The clouds are lifting. The clouds are lifting , brother, and tomorrow sunlight will break through.”
    The man walked farther down the street, calling out words of comfort to the thousands of people huddled behind walls and beneath blankets. Mollie clutched at the opening of the window, wishing he would return. “Keep talking, brother,” a man called out from somewhere across the street. Mollie strained to hear the town crier as he continued calling out into the ruined landscape.
    “Our city will rise again!” he shouted. “Out of tragedy we will build something great. Don’t despair, Chicago. Don’t despair!”
    The woman in the corner had stopped weeping. Zack leanedover to whisper in her ear. “It’s true, Mollie,” he said. “Everything that man said is true. Tomorrow we begin rebuilding. Playing music. Dancing. I promise you.”
    She leaned against him, drawing on his strength and thanking God for sending that strange messenger out onto the streets. She had been wrong to despair, and already her strength was beginning to rally. She wanted to say something, but her throat was too clogged with emotion to speak. She didn’t know if she was about to laugh or cry, but she knew one thing to the marrow of her bones.
    This fire would not be the end of her.

7
    Z ack dreaded waking Mollie up. Morning light illuminated the filthy, dilapidated chaos inside the church. None of the pews or stained glass windows had survived. Mounds of slate and rock from the collapsed roof were strewn across the ground. Exhausted refugees slept propped against the walls of the church, their soot-stained faces slack with exhaustion. Everyone here was homeless. Mollie didn’t even have the paltry belongings she’d stuffed into the pillowcase, only the clothes on her back and a scorched green scarf balled up beneath her sleeping head. He hoped her dreams were peaceful, for in a few moments she would awaken to the catastrophe that had befallen her.
    Could he persuade her to return home with him? Rumor had it that everything west of the river was untouched by the fire, which meant his townhouse had survived. He wanted to extend the protection of his home to Mollie. Never had he seen a woman as brave as she had been for the last thirty-six hours, and it confirmed what he had believed about her all along. She was worth fighting for, and he wanted her to be a part of his life.
    With each step, gravel and cinders crunched beneath his boots as he moved to Mollie’s side and hunkered down beside her. Hegently shook her shoulder. “Mollie, it is morning,” he whispered. He braced himself to see her peaceful face cloud over with despair, but she surprised him. Pushing herself up on an elbow, Mollie winced through aching muscles and scanned the wreckage in the church.
    “What a mess,” she said. “Such a lot of unsavory debris.”
    Relief trickled through him. She couldn’t be too devastated if she had the strength to summon up a sense of humor. “I need to get home and check on my parents. They are probably tearing their hair out by now.”
    “I understand.” She rolled into a sitting position and moaned. The lawyer, Frank, had awoken and was gingerly moving to sit up.
    “Take it easy, Frank,” Mollie warned. “It’s a mess in here, so don’t try to move around until I can clear some space.”
    Others were rousing in the church as well, and it would only be a matter of time before Princess Sophie would awaken and start issuing orders. Zack needed to