In the distance, fire burst from Mount Vesuvius. Burning rocks and fiery ash fell from the sky.
The hot, dusty air smelled like rotten eggs as Jack and Annie rushed down the street. In the forum, everyone—shoppers, soldiers, gladiators, fruit sellers—was running in every direction.
Stalls had collapsed. Carts were sliding.
Jack froze. He didn’t know where to go.
Jack followed her as they ran past the Temple of Jupiter. Its mighty columns had fallen, and its walls were crumbling.
They ran past the Public Baths just as its roof caved in.
“Which way now?” shouted Annie.
“The tree house is in the olive grove!” Jack said as they kept running.
“The olive grove and the bridge are near the street with all those open shops!” said Annie. “Remember the bridge?”
Jack looked up at the erupting mountain. A red-hot cloud billowed over it. Fires burned on its slopes.
“Head in the direction of Mount Vesuvius!” he said. “It was behind us as we came into Pompeii.”
So while others ran away from Mount Vesuvius, Jack and Annie ran toward it.
On the street with the open shops, baskets and broken jars rolled over the cracked stones.
Jack and Annie ran past the bakery and the shoe shop. They ran past the butcher shop and barbershop. All the shops were empty. Their owners had fled.
The closer they got to the volcano, the more the ground trembled. The darker and dustier it got.
“This is just like my nightmare!” cried Annie.
Jack choked on the rotten fumes. His eyes watered.
“Look! The olive grove!” shouted Annie. “The tree house is just over there! Come on!”
Jack could hardly see, but he followed Annie. They left the street and ran to the dried-up stream near the olive grove.
“Where’s the bridge?” cried Annie.
They looked around wildly. The bridge had vanished.
