ATKINS AND ELIZABETH WENT OUT A FIRE DOOR ON the side of the building and were soon on Exchange Avenue, heading east through downtown Memphis. For the next hour they took whatever unobstructed road or alley they could find. Sometimes they managed only half a block before they ran into a collapsed wall or building and had to change course.
More people were out. Many had come from their homes in other parts of Memphis to try to rescue papers and documents from their downtown offices only to get trapped. Their stalled cars and vans added to the congestion and confusion. The streets were hopelessly jammed.
The sound of sirens, exploding glass and the frequent crash of falling bricks made talking difficult. Atkins and Elizabeth often had to shout in gusting smoke that was getting thicker. For the first time, Atkins began to wonder if they were going to get clear of the flames.
They were on Poplar Avenue. He vaguely remembered Walt Jacobs telling him that Poplar was one of the city’s main east-west arteries. They headed east but the smoke suddenly shifted direction and was in front of them again. Somehow, the fires had moved around them.
Through drifting smoke they saw a yellow fire-pumper pulled to a curb. A team of firefighters stood next to it, pouring a single stream of water into what looked like a new building. Their hoses weren’t attached to hydrants. They were using the pumper’s water supply.
Atkins knew what that meant. The quake had knocked out the city’s water mains. When their pumper ran dry, they’d have to pull back. It looked like the fire hadn’t taken hold yet in the three-story building. Thinking it could be saved, the firemen were sticking it out as long as possible.
The building suddenly burst into flames. The fire blew out the windows and doors with a shuddering, explosive roar. A sheet of flame swept across the street.
Atkins felt the heat from the blast. He lost sight of the firemen and pulled Elizabeth around a corner. They ran down another smoke-filled street. It was no good. The flames were ahead of them again. They turned up a street, then another, and realized they’d gone in a full circle. They were back at the exact spot where they’d first seen the firemen battling the fire.
The pumper was just down the street. They headed in that direction, coughing in the smoke, holding handkerchiefs over their mouths and noses. It was difficult to see, but Atkins thought something looked wrong. Then he saw that the front wall of the building had collapsed into the street, an avalanche of bricks and glass that had just missed the pumper.
The truck’s red lights were still flashing. But there was no sign of the crew.
The wind had shifted again. The heat from the burning building had slackened. Believing they could get by it and keep moving east, Atkins headed down the street. He noticed the yellow paint on the fire engine was scorched black on the side that faced the building.
“Oh. God!” Elizabeth said. She’d found the firefighters.
The four men lay crumpled in the street behind the pumper. All were dead, apparently killed instantly when the building exploded. The flames must have rolled over them before they had a chance to pull back. Two of them still had their gloved hands around the heavy brass nozzle of the fire hose.
There was a strong uplift of hot air. The flames were being sucked skyward in ferocious wind gusts created by the fires. The velocity was peaking. Burning embers dipped and swirled over their heads.
“We’ve got to find shelter,” Atkins shouted. “It’s going to overrun us.”