by Sally John
And then the “This just in” from her brother. He listened to his earpiece, ad-libbing . . . and, in that honeyed, professional tone of his, informed viewers their reporter and cameraman were rushing to the scene.
And then he said, “Apparently a second fire is now burning to the north. Officials are concerned that it could converge with the original fire—What’s that? Yes. Yes. All right. The sheriff ’s department is ordering all residents of Santa Reina and surrounding areas to evacuate immediately. This is not voluntary. I repeat, all residents of Santa—”
And then no more words came out of his mouth. He just froze, his lips parted, his head cocked to one side, his hazel eyes gazing straight at the camera.
The idiot Felicia, to her credit, filled in his blank. She asked him if that was correct, that all residents were to evacuate Santa Reina and the surrounding area. Erik didn’t reply. His eyes didn’t even twitch. Jenna knew her brother. In his mind he was projecting the fire’s movement. A Santa Reina evacuation meant it was traveling through Hacienda Hideaway land.
Jenna had called her grandparents’ house but gotten no response. She called her mom’s cell, knowing full well that cell never functioned up in the hills. She had to talk to her dad. Speed dial. What was his—Her thumb missed the keypad. “Oh, God. I can’t think straight.”
Where was Danny? They should go find Erik. They should—
Her phone jingled. Danny’s name appeared on the ID screen.
“Danny!” She shouted his name into the mouthpiece, but there was no answer.
The phone rang at her ear again.
Tandy took if from her. “Let me answer, hon. Sit down. I’ll talk to him.”
Jenna sank onto the couch. A rushing noise filled her head. The room spun.
They were all burning up. Her mom. Her baby sister. Her grandma. Her grandpa.
She opened her mouth in agony. No sound escaped.
The very worst fire San Diego County had seen in years was roar-ing toward them. Surrounding them. Maybe it already had.
Excruciating pain shot through her stomach, a knife stabbing over and over. She curled into a tight fetal ball. “Oh, God, please don’t let them die. Please!”
“Honey?”
Jenna became aware of Tandy sitting beside her, rubbing her arm.
“Honey, I talked to Danny. He’s going to pick up Erik at the studio and head toward Santa Reina. Your dad’s meeting them at that park on Poway Road.”
“I want to go.”
“Listen. I doubt they can get that far. The roads will be clogged with cars coming down from the town and emergency vehicles going up. It’s best if we stay put.” She tried to smile. “Hey, somebody’s got to be here when your mom comes home.”
Home. Tandy’s condo wasn’t her mother’s home. It wasn’t Jenna’s home either.
“I want to go home.” At last she burst into tears. “I want to go home!”
“All right. I’ll take you to your dad’s.”
“No! Kevin’s my home!”
“Shh, it’s okay, hon. We’ll call him, all right? We’ll just call old Kev. Let’s see.” She fiddled with Jenna’s phone. “I bet he’s number one on speed dial, huh? Yep. Here you go.” She handed her the cell.
Jenna counted the rings. One. Two. Oh, God. Three. Don’t let them die. Four. Please.
“Jen!” Kevin’s voice. Firm, solid, assured. Her husband. Her anchor. Her home.
A strangled sob cut off her words.
“Hey, I’m here, pretty lady. I’m right outside the door.”
And then Tandy’s doorbell rang.
Fifty-five
My great-great-grandfather Charles Beaumont Sr. settled here in 1847.”
Claire tuned out Ben’s docent tones and hugged her knees to her chest. Seated on one of the couches in the hacienda’s large living room, she trembled from head to toe, wondering how her father-in-law could give a history lesson at this point in time. And where was Indio? She half expected her to appear with a tea tray. The two of them slid into hosting mode as if it were a typical Saturday at the Hideaway.
Lanterns lit the sala, many of them focused on the framed wall map Ben pointed to. Yellowed and faded, it was a topographical map of the Beaumont property. There he stood, discussing family lore with Lexi and the firemen, Eddie, Zak, and Chad.
Why wasn’t Max there?
One of the two younger ones—Zak or Chad—approached her, sidestepping Samson and Willow. The pets paced the room, whining and sniffing, obviously unnerved.
Chad-slash-Zak sat on the edge of the couch. His fireproof over-alls and orange jacket with reflective stripes were incongruous in such a setting. “Are you all right?”
“Should I be? There’s no way out. You can see that by the map.”
“We’ll find a way. That’s our job.”
“You got stuck here.”
She had started trembling again earlier when Ben asked about their fire engine and radios. Eddie, the oldest and the apparent leader, said the radio quit working when a leaping wave of flame crossed the road and trees fell. In the confusion they became separated from the truck.
How did firemen lose a fire truck?
He said, “We’re not stuck, ma’am, just rethinking strategy.” He smiled. His teeth were a brilliant white against the smudges on his smooth face. Sweat had left little trails through one of the dirt spots. He was so young.
“We can’t stay in the house.” She’d overheard them discussing the four-foot-thick adobe walls and tile roof.
“It’s best not to. The exterior won’t burn, but if the fire were to get close enough, the thousand-degree heat would burst through the windows, and then we’d be in trouble.”
She blinked. The kid seemed excited talking about death and destruction.
Why wasn’t Max here?
“Papa!” Lexi cried out, her voice high. “The gold mine! We can go there!”
Eddie said, “Gold mine?”
Ben traced his finger along the map. “My great-grandfather, Charles Jr., refused to include it on the map. He was so mad at his dad, Charles Sr., over the gold business. Senior found gold here in ’48. Not much—enough to buy the acreage and build this house. But as the story goes, he wasted his life digging for more that didn’t exist. He died down in that mine. Let’s see, it’s in this area.”
“No.” Lexi reached up and touched the map. “It’s here.”
“Lexi, I know—”
“This is a back entrance.”
“What?”
“You don’t know it?”
Ben reddened. “What are you talking about?”
“The main entrance is too close to the canyon. See?” She pointed at another place on the map. “The fire’s probably already in the area. But here, on the other side of those hills, we can get in.”
“There’s no way—”
“Papa, there is. It’s where I find the morel mushrooms. My gosh, don’t have a stroke just because we kept it a secret from you.”
“Secret or no secret, I told you kids never to go near the mine.”
“Papa, I’m twenty-six!”
“I don’t care—”
Eddie laid a hand on his shoulder. “Lexi, can we get to it? Can we get inside it?”
“Yes. I know that for a fact.” She turned back to the map. “We drive to here. Then hike up, twenty minutes or so.”
“Okay, gang,” he said. “We have a plan.”
A loud whoosh sounded. There was the crash of breaking glass. Something thundered. The floor shook.
And Indio screamed.
Fifty-six
Blinding flashes of red and blue lights shredded the night’s darkness. Several police cars were parked at odd angles across the highway, blocking the two lanes that led up to Santa Reina.
A bumper-to-bumper stream of cars and trucks filled the other two lanes, inching down the hill toward San Diego. Impatient drivers honked. People were everywhere, on foot and leaning from open car windows, yelling. Distan
t sirens wailed.
The whole bizarre scene was like something out of a low-budget disaster movie.
Flanked by his sons, Max stood on the pavement. The noise pounded in his chest. He shouted again to a policeman in a neon-lime vest. “My family is up there!”
“Sir, I repeat.” Though he stood only two feet away, the officer had to shout as well. “No one is allowed through except emergency personnel. Santa Reina is being evacuated.”
“I’m not going to Santa Reina! I’m going south at Estudillo Corners. I’m going home! My wife is there!”
The officer shook his head and waved at a motorist to keep moving.
Max swore. They’d gotten nowhere near to where he’d hoped. The roadblock had stopped them too soon.
“Dad.” Danny pulled at Max’s arm until he lowered the cell phone he didn’t realize he’d put to his ear again. “It won’t work.”
“Maybe they’re close enough now.”
“Then they’d call us. Lexi would call me first thing.”
He cursed once more. Yes, Lexi would call Danny. The twins’ abil-ity to communicate was so eerie, she might not even need a phone.
Erik riffled through his wallet, muttering to himself. He moved toward the policeman.
Max and Danny followed.
“Officer, I’m with the press. I can’t find my card, but here’s my driver’s license—”
“You’re that guy from TV.”
“Yeah. Erik Beaumont. Can I get through? My cameraman is up there somewhere. I need to . . .” His voice trailed off.
Max held his breath. Gone was the confident, charming TV personality. Danny had told him how Erik froze up on the air earlier as he listened to the reporter relay news of the evacuation.
“Sure, Mr. Beaumont,” the officer said. “There’s a command center about three miles up the road. There’s an area for the press. Where’s your car?”
Erik pointed to Max’s black BMW parked on the shoulder.
“Give us a minute to clear a path for you.” The policeman glanced toward Max and Danny. “News guy only.”
Erik inhaled sharply. “My mom’s up there, my sister, my grandparents. They’re in a house southeast of town. The property backs up to Vallecitos Canyon.” He paused. “This is my dad and my brother.”
The man gazed at Erik for a long moment. Then he gave a short nod.
They strode to the car. Danny said he would drive and opened the back door for Max.
He hesitated, but Danny was already in the driver’s seat, and Erik got into the passenger side, no doubt up front to smooth the way with his television face. Max climbed in the back and slammed the door shut.
It hit him then, a sudden realization that he’d been demoted to old man whose sons had to protect him.
“Erik,” he growled. “What exactly did you hear from your reporter when you were on the air?”
Danny and Erik exchanged a look, unreadable in the dark. Still, Max caught its meaning. He and Claire did the same thing behind his father’s back.
“Tell me what you know. What did he say that made you freeze?”
Erik didn’t respond immediately. “It was a she. Mindy. She and Greg were on the scene.” He referred to the cameraman. “Down near El Marino.”
“And?”
“And . . .” He looked over his shoulder at Max. “She said they were evacuating Santa Reina because Vallecitos Canyon and the Kuphaalls north of it were burning.”
In his mind’s eye, Max saw the layout of canyons and mountain ranges and the Hacienda Hideaway. His throat closed.
“And she said that was not for on-air disclosure, because there were a handful of residents in the area who’d had absolutely no warning.” Erik turned back toward the front. “Which explains why I froze up. Putz.”
Fifty-seven
Lexi drove the truck toward the flames. Claire could see them. Why were they going toward Vallecitos Canyon? It made no sense.
But then, what did make sense tonight?
In the backseat of the truck, Claire huddled against Indio, who sat in the middle between her and Ben. Although the windows were shut, the scent of smoke coated every breath. The engine whined as the truck bounced over uneven terrain, at times nearly vertical in its climb.
“Well, we know God is good. He surely is.” Indio patted her leg and then went back to petting the cat on her lap.
They hit a bump, and the two firemen up front with Lexi swayed to the left. What were their names? Eddie, the older one. And Chad. Or Zak? Whichever. The third one rode in the bed with the dog.
Except for Indio’s occasional mantra about God’s goodness, silence filled the cab.
What did one talk about on the road to death?
God, I’m sorry. I don’t want to die tonight. I want Lexi to grow old and be happy. I want Indio and Ben to live to be at least a hundred. I want to find my safe harbor. Again. For the first time? I want to know if it’s with Max. I do. I really do. I’ll talk to him. I’ll try.
Claire shook uncontrollably. The brief respite at the hacienda had ended abruptly. The firemen reasoned a large tree had fallen some-where, near enough to send the rumble through the house. Indio had dropped a tray full of teacups, hence the crash of breaking glass.
They rushed to the truck with lanterns and water bottles. The car wouldn’t make it, Ben and Lexi said.
Which meant the photos wouldn’t make it. Which meant BJ mementos wouldn’t make it.
“Hallelujah.”
Claire tried to close her eyes, to shut out the mountainous horizon lit up bright as noonday, but she couldn’t. She felt irresistibly drawn in, that loathsome, typical response to freakish scenes.
She said, “Why are we going this way?”
Indio patted her leg again.
Eddie, next to the front passenger door, looked back at her. His face was in shadows. She felt his eyes on her, though, and waited to hear his voice, the only source of calm she’d found in recent hours.
“Claire, it’s the way to the gold mine. To safety.”
She nearly laughed again at his convoluted reasoning. First seat-belts and now safety in a treacherous old mine. Its walls had col-lapsed on Ben’s great-great-grandfather and killed him. It had not been worked since. His body was never recovered.
When Claire’s children were small, Ben had taken them to the boarded-up entrance. He knew the kids would eventually find it on their own and thought it best just to show it to them and instill in them a horrendous fear. He vowed if they ventured inside, they’d die—either from being buried alive or by his own hand. Evidently it didn’t matter. They’d gone off and found another way into the mine.
Ben leaned forward. “Lexi, you have to go north here.”
“Nope. Trust me.”
“I know my own land!” His voice was a low roar. “Even if I don’t know this so-called back entrance!”
Now Indio patted his arm. “Save the bear routine for later, dear.”
“Papa, Danny and I found this when we were ten. If you tell him I showed it to you, I swear, you’re toast.”
Chad-slash-Zak bumped his shoulder against hers. “That was a good one.”
Claire could see Lexi’s profile by the light of the dashboard. She was smiling.
Smiling?
Evidently the road to death was paved with improbability. Ben sat in the backseat while Lexi drove and mouthed off to him and made bad jokes. Three strangers promised them safety in the most dangerous spot on the property. Indio named them after biblical heroes and breathed praises and made tea.
And Claire . . . Claire thought about moving to Greece.
They all climbed down out of the truck. Claire tumbled from it, legs too wobbly to hold herself upright. One of the strangers caught her around the waist.
“Claire.” It was Eddie. “Take my arm.”
“I’m . . .” She was what? Fine? Yeah, right. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.
Lexi gathered the cat in one arm and held a lant
ern aloft in the other. She led the way with Chad-slash-Zak. Indio and Ben followed, Samson beside them, the other Chad-slash-Zak next. Claire and Eddie brought up the rear.
The firemen loomed large in their big coats and helmets and air tanks strapped onto their backs. They carried lanterns. Lights from their helmets also illumined the winding path that led through a grove of trees. The ground before them rose, and at long last the view of fire was blocked.
But the ash fell, and the sound continued, the eerie drone of some dreadful monster eating the earth behind them, steadily catch-ing up.
Fifty-eight
From the recliner, Tandy watched Jenna talk on the phone to Danny. Seated on the couch, she mashed herself against Kevin as if she couldn’t get close enough to him. The television was on, its volume low, its screen filled with flames glowing against the night sky. She didn’t know if it helped or not to see live videos.
Where was Claire?
Jenna lowered the phone.
“What’d he say?” Kevin asked.
“He thinks . . .” She paused. “No, he believes, truly believes, they’re all right. He says he would know if . . .”
If Lexi were dead. Nobody wanted to fill in the blank.
Tandy said, “Yeah. They have that twin thing going, don’t they?”
“Mm-hmm. But Dad and Erik might kill each other waiting.”
They exchanged an uneasy smile.
“He says Erik used his tarnished charm, and the cops let them in to where the press is, beyond the first blockade. There’s no way they’d let us through, though. The traffic is so unbelievable, we’d never be able to see Papa’s truck or Mom’s car go by. And if for some reason Mom and Lexi’s cell phones didn’t work, none of us would know when they got out unless we waited for them down here.”
“You should go to the house, then.”
“Come with us.”
“Maybe later. Some friends from church are coming over. Prayer warriors, they call themselves.” Tandy had phoned one of them and explained the situation. Within minutes, she learned that a contingency was on its way. In a previous life she would have eaten worms before inviting such weirdos into her home. But they were growing on her.
