by Joanna Wylde
I hope.
Grabbing my keys and purse, I herded them out the front door, trying not to panic. Then I stepped through, closing and locking it behind me. Funny, all these months I’d wanted to get the hell out of Hallies Falls, but right now the thought of losing my home was almost more than I could handle.
“Take good care of it, Mama,” I whispered, laying my hand against the darkened wood. Hopefully she was up there somewhere, listening. A quick glance around the parking lot showed that the rest of the tenants were already gone. Gage’s semi was still parked behind the building. Hopefully it was insured. Pulling out my phone, I tried to call him but it wouldn’t connect, so I texted him instead.
Then I jogged over to the Mustang and climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Everyone ready?”
“Let’s go,” Mrs. Webbly said. “It’ll be good to find some fresh air.”
I put the key in the ignition, turning it.
Nothing.
Frowning, I tried again. More nothing.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked, hitting the steering wheel with the heel of my hand. “No fucking way. This can’t be happening.”
“Looks like you need a new battery,” Dad said. “I’ll swing by the hardware store later this afternoon, pick one up.”
“Not right now, Tom,” Mrs. Webbly said. “Tinker, what’s our plan B?”
I didn’t answer, because I had no damned clue.
GAGE
We were maybe a mile outside Hallies Falls when the explosion hit. One big, massive boom that shook the trees and echoed off the hill, then a fresh plume of smoke rose through the air. Pic waved us over, and we all pulled off to the side of the road.
“Jesus, what do you think that was?” Taz asked, looking grim.
“Nothing good,” Pic replied. “I’ll reach out to BB. Gage, you call Tinker.”
“Way ahead of you, boss,” I said, raising the phone to my ear. This time it didn’t even give a token ring before the mechanical voice said the call couldn’t be completed.
“Fuck,” I muttered, then sent her a text instead, hoping it would make it through.
“I can’t get BB,” Pic said. “He’ll be with Tinker, though. It’s not far now.”
I was already kicking my bike back to life. “No luck on my end, either. I’m heading for her house.”
“Right behind you,” Pic said.
“We’ll be with you,” Hunter added. Taz nodded, and I pulled back out onto the highway. We’d already reached the clubhouse, although I wouldn’t be stopping there. The smoke started growing thicker, and then I saw flames licking through the trees on the west side of the road.
Fuck.
Heat rolled out in hellish waves, the flames exploding upward, jumping from tree to tree. The seriousness of the situation dawned on me—if one of those fell across the road, we’d be well and truly fucked. Throttling up, I tore down the highway, pulling around a broad turn to find the Nighthawk Raiders’ clubhouse completely engulfed in more flame.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Fire was everywhere, and with a chunk of the roof covering half the road. That explosion had been the clubhouse.
What the hell had happened here?
Not that it mattered, I realized, slowing the bike to steer around the section of roof. Whatever had caused it, the town was doomed unless there was some kind of miracle. Fire to the south, and now this in the north.
Dodging the debris, we made it past the clubhouse and I sped up again. Less than a mile to town now. A cop car came screaming past us, headed in the opposite direction. I hoped to hell there were firefighters behind him. If there weren’t, he’d be smart to turn tail and run.
TINKER
“We have to flag someone down to give us a jump,” I said, then glanced back at BB, sitting behind us on his bike. “Unless . . . Can you jump-start a car using a motorcycle?”
“We’ll find out,” Mrs. Webbly said, her voice grim. I nodded tightly, then climbed out of the car and jogged back to where BB sat waiting for us.
“Car won’t start,” I said bluntly. “Can we jump it with your motorcycle?”
He frowned as I looked over his bike.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess we could try. I have cables in my saddlebag.”
“We need to get the hell out of here,” I told him, feeling sick. Looking around, I saw another car pulling out of the neighborhood in the distance, but most of the houses seemed to be empty already.
“Let’s do it,” he said. “I’ll pull around front. If it works, start driving and don’t stop, no matter what.”
Two minutes later the hood was up and the cables were attached. BB turned over the bike. Slipping back behind the driver’s seat, I said a little prayer, pushed in the clutch, and turned the key.
Nothing.
“We’re so fucked,” Anna whispered. I straightened.
“Don’t talk like that,” I said. “I’m sure the police will do a drive through, probably with a megaphone or something. Not everyone has cell phones to receive the alert. I can hear sirens coming from somewhere—we’ll start by calling 911. They’ll figure out a ride for us.”
I climbed back out of the car as BB disconnected the battery terminals.
“Sorry,” he said. “That’s a sweet ride, but you’re gonna have to leave it behind.”
“Shit happens,” I muttered, reaching for my phone. Then the sound of motorcycle engines rumbled through the air, and I looked up to see Gage and three bikers turn down the the street. Seconds later they pulled to a stop around us. I was already out of the car, wishing I could scream and hug him, but there wasn’t time.
The first words out of his mouth were, “Why the hell haven’t you evacuated yet?”
“The car won’t start,” I said tersely. My phone buzzed, and I looked down to see another emergency warning. Residents of Hallies Falls were to evacuate immediately. Emergency services personnel would not be available to assist those who refused to evacuate. Police would attempt to patrol all streets and warn all residents, but they asked everyone to check on their neighbors and provide them with assistance, particularly the elderly and the infirm.
In other words, get out now or you’re on your own.
“Put them in the truck,” said an older man wearing Reapers gear.
“That’s Picnic—he’s my president,” Gage said. “And he’s right—go get in the truck.”
He jerked his head toward the semi.
“Okay,” I said, not about to argue. I turned to shout. “Everyone out of the car! We’re going in the semi.”
“Start warming it up,” Picnic said to Gage, then looked to me. “We’ll leave as soon as we know you’ve got a working vehicle. The fire’s headed for town fast. Fast. We had to ride through it to get here. There’s no fucking time left to waste.”
Dad, Mrs. Webbly, and the girls climbed out of the Mustang like clowns pouring out of a circus car. Nobody laughed, though. BB helped Mrs. Webbly across the lawn. I guided everyone around to the passenger side of the big truck. The door swung open and the girls leapt up like young gazelles. Poor Mrs. Webbly couldn’t even get her foot up to the step. BB lifted her, all but tossing her into the cab. She crashed into the seat, and for an instant I thought she’d gotten hurt. Then the girls were grabbing her arms, pulling her into the back. My dad followed, and I was up after him, watching as BB ran back to his bike.
That’s when I realized the truck hadn’t actually started yet.
“Why isn’t it working?” I asked Gage.
“Takes a minute for the plugs to heat up,” he said. “No worries.”
Sure enough, the truck roared to life as he turned the key to the run position. I reached for my seat belt, then he pulled the semi forward and out of the driveway. Picnic, BB, and the others rode off ahead of us, and we were on our way.
• • •
The next four hours were unspeakably awful.
According to the radio and the cell al
erts we kept getting, the safest evacuation route meant driving east through Loup Loup Pass, which meant everyone would be stuck together on the same two-lane highway, inching slowly away from the fires for the next sixty miles. If another fire broke out blocking the way, we’d be fucked.
“You think this is a good idea?” I asked Gage in a low voice. “I know the road south is closed, but—”
“The road running north is on fire,” he said grimly. “And the fires are even worse to the west, so this is the best we’ve got. Who are the girls?”
I gave a startled laugh. “Sorry, I forgot the introductions. That’s Rebecca and Anna, they’re Carrie’s kids. She’s out of town. Shit, girls—have you talked to her?”
“I texted her while we were waiting in your car,” Rebecca said. “And again when we started driving. She didn’t answer. I’m worried about my dad.”
“I’ll call her,” I said, reaching for my phone. A robotic voice told me it couldn’t complete the call as dialed. “Crap. Can’t get through.”
“Did you get my messages earlier?” Gage asked. “I tried calling, too, but no luck.”
“Got nothing from you, but I had no problem talking to Margarita in Olympia,” I said. “Guess it’s all about where you are and who you’re trying to call.”
We reached the edge of town, and the truck slowed. I looked out to see a line of cars ahead of us, moving slowly through the smoke. “Wow. I didn’t even realize there were that many people in Hallies Falls.”
“Me, neither,” Anna said, her voice still tight. “Are we going to get stuck here and burn up?”
“No,” Gage said firmly.
“What about your friends on their bikes? Will they be safe?”
“They don’t have the protection of a cab, but they can go a lot faster than us,” he replied. “They’re probably driving along the shoulders of the road. Biggest danger is some dumbass in a car hitting them in the smoke.”
Suddenly I realized something. “Gage, your motorcycle . . .”
“What about it?” he asked.
“We left it.”
He gave me a quick, tense glance. “Of course we did. It’s just a bike, Tinker. The world is full of them. You left your car and your house. All I care about at this point is getting you out of here alive.”
I gave a short laugh, because of course he was right. My Mustang was down there, too. But it was still nice to know he cared about me more than his bike.
As we climbed slowly up the ridge, I was able to look down to see massive flames tearing through the trees north of my home town. There were also police cruisers moving through the streets, their headlights turned on to cut through the smoke, but I only spotted one fire truck.
“Where do you think the rest of the firefighters are?” I asked Gage as we wound our way along the hillside.
“Probably south of town,” he said. “Earlier today they called for volunteers, so things must be even worse down there. The danger seemed to be from the south—nobody saw this coming.”
“It feels like the whole world is burning up,” Anna said. “Do you think we’ll lose our house?”
“All I care about is Mom and Dad,” Rebecca told her, sniffling. I glanced back to find her eyes red and scared. “Dad’s down in that. Do you think he’ll be okay?”
“Your dad is smart and safe,” I said, wishing I felt half as calm as I sounded. “He knows you’re with me, and he knows you’ll stay safe. You have to trust that he and your mom can take care of themselves, because they can. Once we all get away from here we’ll find them, and you’ll be safe again together. That’s all the matters.”
The girls nodded, although I couldn’t tell if they believed me. I was too busy trying to believe myself.
We’d just reached the top of the ridge when I heard the first airplane engines.
Gage pulled around a curve and suddenly a big jetliner passed by, headed straight for town. And I do mean big—it was big like a plane that carries passengers on cross country flights, and it even had rows of windows along the side. As we watched with wide eyes, it swooped low over Halle’s falls, dumping a massive plume of red from its belly.
“What’s that?” Rebecca asked, her voice quivering.
“Fire retardant,” I said. “They’re dropping it over the town to try and save it. They’ll coat as much as they can, maybe save some of the buildings.”
“I hope they spray our house,” Anna whispered.
Yeah. I hoped they sprayed mine, too.
• • •
It took us hours to reach Okanogan, and I was terrified every minute of it. Amazingly, Mrs. Webbly and my dad had managed to keep the girls calm. The bunk in the back had been folded into a bench seat, and they put down a small table. Dad was teaching them how to play poker. Mrs. Webbly was teaching them how to cheat.
Fortunately, I got cell service back once we’d cleared the valley, my phone pinging rapid-fire as text after text from Carrie downloaded. The girls’ phones were doing the same. I dialed Carrie’s number and this time she answered.
“Did you get out okay? Where are the girls?” she demanded.
“They’re in Gage’s semi with me,” I said, turning to see them watching me anxiously. “It’s your mom.”
“What about Dad?”
“Have you heard from Darren?” I asked.
“Yes, he’s fine,” she said, her voice strained. “They’ve got him and the other volunteers doing excavation work—trying to control and stop it. I’m not sure it’ll work. I saw the fire jumping the river as we drove away.”
“Where are you now?”
“Headed east,” she said. “Toward Okanogan. You?”
“Probably on the same road as you,” I said, slumping back into the seat. “Thank God for that. You want to talk to the kids?”
“Please,” she said. I turned and handed the phone back to them as Rebecca burst into loud tears.
“Ladies, please try to keep it under control,” Gage asked, his voice tense. “I’m trying to concentrate. Visibility is shit.”
“Sorry,” Rebecca apologized, and their voices quieted. I sat and watched as the slowly moving line of vehicles inched forward. After a few minutes, Anna touched my shoulder.
“Mom wants to talk to you again.”
I took the phone and held it to my ear, speaking quietly. “Hey, feeling better?”
“Thank you so much,” she said, and it sounded like she was crying. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough. I think this has been the worst day of my life. I can’t believe it all happened so fast.”
“How’s your aunt?”
“It’s been awful,” she told me. “We had to evacuate faster than planned, and nothing went right. Aunt Ruby boards horses—there were twelve of them on the farm, but her trailer only carries eight. We managed to load six before the sheriff pulled up and told us to get out while we still could.”
I swallowed.
“Oh shit.”
“We turned them loose,” she said sadly. “Hopefully they’ll make it. Farmers up and down the valley are setting their livestock free and hoping for the best.”
“So I guess we’ll see you in Okanogan?” I asked.
“Yes. I’ll get the girls from you, and then we’ll figure out what we’re going to do.”
“Love you,” I said.
“Love you, too. Drive safe.”
GAGE
We met up with Carrie in the Safeway parking lot in Okanogan.
The twins tackle-hugged her, and then she tackle-hugged Tinker. Everyone seemed to be crying, but I was just relieved we’d made it out of there. Pulling out my phone, I walked around the side of the truck for some privacy, then checked my messages.
There was a text from Pic saying they’d arrived safe, and that they’d be heading out for Coeur d’Alene soon. That one had come through an hour ago. I messaged him back.
ME: In Okanogan. Grabbing food and then we start for CDA. Please have the girls pull together some things for Tinke
r her dad and her neighbor lady.
Suddenly someone hit me from behind, arms wrapping tight around my body in a powerful squeeze. My instincts were to slam the attacker against the truck, but somehow I managed to control myself long enough to realize she wasn’t a threat.
“Thank you,” Carrie sobbed against my back. “Thank you so much for saving my babies. I was so scared, but I knew Tinker would get them out. And you helped her. I’m so sorry for the way I hated you and thought you were horrible. I don’t care who you are. All I care is that my babies are alive and I will never, ever forget what you did today.”
For such a tiny little thing she was strong, and it took me a couple seconds to pry her hands free. Then I turned toward her and got a second hug, this one head on. Tinker stood just behind her, tears streaming down her face.
“We made it out,” she said, holding my gaze. “Thank you, Gage.”
“You’d have made it out without me,” I told her. She shrugged.
“I’d like to think so,” she said, and she sounded exhausted. “But the fact is, when I needed you, you were there.”
“That’s what we do,” I said simply.
“We?”
“The Reapers,” I answered. “When we need each other, we’re there. And you’re with me, now. Tinker. You never need to be alone again.”
Carrie loosened her grip, pulling away. “I think you’re hugging the wrong woman.”
Tinker smiled, then stepped toward me as I pulled her into my arms. For what might’ve been the first time in her life, Carrie showed some discretion and walked about around the truck to give us some privacy. I leaned down, smelling her hair.
Smoke this time. No peaches.
“Did all that really happen?” Tinker asked against my chest. “It’s like something out of a movie.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it happened,” I said, although I knew what she meant. The day felt like some strange nightmare, unconnected from reality.
“Now what do we do?” she asked, looking up at me. “Carrie and Darren are heading to stay with relatives in Spokane. If you’re driving back to Coeur d’Alene, would you be willing to drop us off there? She doesn’t have much room in the car. It’s full of stuff from her aunt’s place.”
