Fire in the Woods

by Jennifer M. Eaton

  I reached for my necklace. Startled by its absence, I froze until I remembered it lay safely around David’s neck. My gaze drew back to the sky. A black mass hovered over the houses, continuing to blank out the stars. One by one the little pinpricks of light returned as the form passed overhead and moved toward the airstrips.

  No lights. No landing gear. Just black—And really, really slow. A blimp? In the middle of the night? And no noise at all?

  I shivered and backed away from the window. Keeping an eye on the mass, I fumbled for my phone and dialed Maggie. I recounted my entire day, right up to the apparition that’d just flown over my house.

  “Did you see it?” I asked.

  “So they flew a plane over your house. It’s not the first time.”

  “Have you been listening to a thing I’ve said?”

  “Come on, girl. I don’t care about the plane,” Maggie said. “I want to hear about the hottie. He’s actually there in your house? Right now? And your Dad’s not home?” Her giggle always sounded maniacal. “Are you going to do it?”

  “No! Maggie, come on.”

  “But seriously. What are you going to tell your Dad?”

  I shook my head. “I was thinking of the truth. I can’t send David back into the cold, and I can’t really hide him either. Right now he’s passed out on the sofa.”

  “Holy cow. The major’s going to have a brain aneurysm.”

  “Believe me, I know.” I tucked back the curtain and peeked up at the stars. Everything seemed perfectly normal—now. “Maggs, that plane, or whatever—it was weird. I mean, really weird. I couldn’t even hear it, but it must have been huge.”

  “Hon, maybe you were dreaming.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  She held a long pause on the line. “Are you going to deal with the real problem, here? What do you think is wrong with Prince Charming?”

  I checked the window again and slumped onto the bed. “I have no stinking clue. He says he has this funny disorder.”

  “Okay, so what is it?”

  I rolled onto my back. “He said it was something like thermo-dynamic disorder. Or maybe it was thermo-nuclear disorder. I don’t know…something that makes him really hot and he freezes when it gets cold out. I tried to Google it but I couldn’t find anything.”

  “You already knew he was really hot.”

  I ignored her. “It was so bizarre. I couldn’t get him warmed up, no matter what I tried.”

  “You know, if it happens again, you can always smother his body with yours.”

  “What?”

  “Seriously. I see it in the movies all the time, and they told us that in first aid class too, remember? Sharing body heat and all.” She snickered. “And I hear friction…”

  “Maggie!” I sat up and tossed my pillow back to the head of my bed. Not that the idea of snuggling up with David was all that gross, but I didn’t need her to know that.

  “Okay, okay, but I’m going to research it to make sure he doesn’t have the plague or something.”

  “Whatever. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  I smushed my forehead against the window screen again and counted stars. Not that I knew how many were supposed to be up there, but tallying them made me feel better. Scattered light clouds left from the earlier storm dotted the sky, but otherwise the stars shone as brightly as any other night. I closed the window, pulled the blind down, and leaned against the edge of my dresser. I knew there was no way I was going to be able to sleep.

  I grabbed my comforter and pillow and padded down the stairs. Throwing the bedding on the chair beside David, I placed my fingers on his forehead. Still hot. Duh – Temperature disorder, Jess.

  First things first: I needed to make sure Dad didn’t have a conniption when he walked through the front door so he didn’t shoot David or something. I grabbed the note pad from the counter and scribbled: Don’t be mad. I’ll explain in the morning on the yellow-lined sheet. I taped the note on the couch behind David.

  Lame, but it was all I could come up with. Tomorrow was not going to be fun.

  I eased back into the chair beside David and yanked the lever to raise my feet. Using the blanket to prop up my side, I cuddled into my soft down pillow and watched David sleep. So many questions…but tomorrow I’d get some answers.

  Hopefully David would comply. If not, Dad might beat the answers out of him.

  6

  The trumpeting throng of Reveille smashed its way into my dreams. Stinking P.A. system! I crushed my pillow around my ears, but the blaring trumpets pierced the feathers and shot straight into my brain. There was no escaping the military wake-up call: an evil tune perpetuated by evil men joyously pressing a button and cackling as they woke the world.

  The trumpets faded. I growled, willing myself back into sleepy-land as I did every morning. A scrumptious smell teased my senses before I fell back into dreamy land.

  Mmmmm, bacon.

  I salivated, dreaming of the crispy strips crunching in my mouth.

  Wait. Bacon? Bacon’s cooking? Dad’s home!

  I sprang out of the easy-chair, stumbling in half delirium and falling onto the sofa.

  Omigosh, David. I tapped the empty blankets. Where was he?

  Someone scraped a pan in the kitchen and turned on the faucet. I rolled David’s blankets into a ball and tucked them on the side of the couch. I snatched the pieces of the thermometer off the table and slid them into my pocket.

  “David?” I whispered.

  Silence lingered—except for the bacon sizzling in the kitchen.

  The napkin I had placed David’s sandwich on the night before still sat on the end-table, holding a few stray crumbs. I shoved it into my other pocket.

  “David?”

  Horrid images of him bound and gagged to a chair in the kitchen crossed my mind.

  The note was no longer on the sofa. Had Dad read it? What would Dad do if he caught a boy in the house? Would he have woken me up to see what the deal was, or would he have shot first and asked questions later?

  I counted to ten, calming myself, and walked through the archway.

  Dad looked up from the stove and raised an eyebrow. He wore the same jeans and tee-shirt he’d left in the day before. “Hello, pequeña,” he said.

  I glanced about the kitchen. No sign of David. At least he wasn’t tied up.

  “Morning, Dad.” I kissed his cheek.

  “So, you’re feeling better? I’m surprised to see you up. I figured you were sick.”

  “Me? Why?” I flopped into a chair.

  He scraped some eggs onto a plate. “Well, first it was hot as Hell in here when I got home, and it’s not like you to start a fire, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sleep in a chair, and all those blankets…” He looked up. “And I saw your note. If you were that sick, you should have called.”

  He hadn’t found David.

  Think fast, Jess…and make it good. “Well—I had this chill. I, I turned up the heat, but it wasn’t getting hot enough, so I started a fire, and I guess I fell asleep. Sorry.”

  He used those ‘daddy thinks you’re lying’ eyes on me. Probably because I was babbling like a guilty idiot. Time to change the subject.

  “So, anyway, did you catch the bad guy?”

  “Who said there was a bad guy?”

  I propped my elbows on the table. “Come on, Dad. I’m not stupid.”

  “We’re still investigating the crash.”

  “Does that mean you’re leaving again?”

  “Not immediately. I need to report back in around noon, but I’ll be home tonight.”

  I poured myself a glass of orange juice. “Dad, does the investigation have anything to do with a huge, quiet plane?”

  “What? No!” His quick reply told me he wasn’t completely telling the truth. It also didn’t help that he nearly dropped the pan. Time to keep pushing while his guard was down.

  “I saw something stra
nge last night. Why would a plane fly over the houses without lights on?”

  He bit the side of his cheek…typical Major Martinez stall tactic when he was about to lie.

  “I don’t really know.” He turned back to his cooking. “Jess, I asked Grandma to come help out for a bit, but I’m thinking it might be a good idea if you stayed with her instead, you know, until this all blows over.”

  Oh, no you don’t. “No way. I hate Grandma’s. You know that.”

  Grandma’s. The pit of doom. Well, maybe not doom, but boredom anyway. She lived in a retirement village for goodness sake. What would I do all day? He slid eggs on a plate and handed it to me. He topped it off with extra bacon. Sorry, Dad. I can’t be bribed. Well, not this time at least.

  “Sweetheart, I just don’t know when I’ll be called or have to do another overnighter. I want you safe.”

  I grit my teeth. “You don’t think I’ll stay in the house.” Of course, he’d be right. I wasn’t about to admit to that, though.

  His lips formed a straight line. “You know what? You’re right. I don’t trust you. You had a chill last night because you went outside. You got caught in the rain, and you were soaked.”

  My mouth dropped open like a Venus fly trap. I snapped it closed.

  “You’re going to Grandma’s.”

  “I’m not a baby. I don’t need a sitter.”

  I folded my arms and put on my defiant face. He knew I was serious because I hadn’t touched the bacon. Yep, I had willpower. Not much more, though, so I hoped he’d back down quickly.

  He placed the pan in the sink. “How about you stay with Maggie?”

  I shuddered. “Dad, you know I can’t stay there. You know…Bobby.” Yeah, spend the week in the house with my ex-boyfriend. Not. A. Good. Idea. I should have considered the “ex” factor before dating my best-friend’s brother.

  He mashed his hands into a towel and chucked it on the counter beside him. “I need to know you are supervised. Period. Grandma either watches you here, or at her house. Which is it?”

  Tally up another argument to lost. “She can come here.”

  “Good. Negotiation over.”

  Crud. Why couldn’t I ever win at that game?

  I picked up my fork. My stomach twisted. I was pretty sure it wasn’t excited about the pending bacon.

  Dad was easy to dodge. He never stayed home. Grandma rarely left the house when she visited. She’d move from room to room, buffing and waxing until the house sparkled. I’d be trapped.

  Maybe I’d get lucky and this whole thing would blow over before she was able to get on that plane?

  “Do you really think there’s someone dangerous out there?”

  He pointed to my plate. “Eat up. I don’t want you getting sick again.”

  Yikes. Complete avoidage of my question. Not good. But it couldn’t really be David, could it? Shoot, I wished Dad would spill some classified beans. Right now two plus two equaled ten. Nothing seemed right.

  Something was obviously up with David. He’d admitted as much. But he seemed harmless enough. He couldn’t possibly be a threat to any sort of national security. Could he?

  I poked a piece of bacon in my mouth. Salty goodness coated my tongue with each crunch, but my mind kept drifting back to David. I glanced out the window, expecting to see him slink by. I swallowed, forgetting to enjoy my favorite vice.

  Where was he?

  ***

  I pretended to watch TV while Dad farted around for hours. Plans had been made, and Grandma’s plane would land around seven a.m. the day after tomorrow. At least I had a full day and a half to find David before the Grandma lock-down.

  As for today, I had to spend the day at Maggie’s. At least that’s where Dad thought I’d be. A quick call to Maggie and it was all planned out…unless dad thought to call Mrs. Baker and confirm. If he did, I was skunked.

  I packed a bag with all the essentials. Namely, a blanket in case David was cold, and my camera. Yesterday had shown me how a photo op could happen at any moment, and I needed to be ready with more than a camera phone.

  Dad dropped me off at Maggie’s, and I waved as I walked toward the porch.

  Hyper-focused as usual, he didn’t even check to make sure I went inside. Perfect. No need to worry about Mrs. Baker. I glanced down the street.

  Deserted. Where were the kids? Joggers? Exercise junkies? Weird, but at least there wasn’t anyone around who might slow me down while I looked for David.

  Now, where would I hide if I was an obnoxiously cute guy with a temperature disorder? The only place I could think to look for him was back in the woods, so I followed my steps from the previous day.

  Half way down the street, Mrs. Nicholson scooted her six-year-old, what’s-his-face, into the house. She furrowed her brow as I passed.

  “Jessica, does Major Martinez know you’re out?” she asked, holding the screen door ajar.

  “Yeah. It’s all good. I’m going to the playground.” Sounded plausible. The playground was in that general direction. Sort of, anyway.

  “Today?” She tilted her head to the side.

  Army housewives…they listened to their husbands, they panicked, and then worried about everybody else’s business. This wasn’t the first time the Army scrambled over nothing at all. I learned that by the time I was ten. Why adults took so long to catch up, I didn’t know. I smiled, waved, and continued on. I just hoped she didn’t call my dad.

  Movement at the gates ended my cadence. An MP stood at the guard shack, looking over papers on a clipboard.

  Crap. Why were they still monitoring the gate?

  I kept walking. He looked up and held his hand out.

  “Just a minute, miss,” he said. “Would you mind opening the bag?”

  Sweat crept over my brow. “Why?”

  “We’ve been asked to check all baggage.”

  No use fighting it. “What are you supposed to be looking for?”

  “Classified.”

  Classified my rear-end. His security clearance probably wasn’t much higher than mine.

  I opened my camera case and showed him the contents. I wouldn’t even let Dad fiddle with my camera. I wasn’t about to let this guy’s pudgy fingers grease up the lens. I snuggled it safely back in its compartment as the MP unzipped my bag and removed the blanket. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

  It’s none of your business, jerk. I looked away, hoping to avoid questions.

  I had to stop fidgeting though. I probably looked as guilty as sin.

  The MP handed the duffle back to me. I started squishing the blanket back in.

  “So, is that it?”

  He made a note on this clipboard, glancing at me. “You’re Jessica Martinez, right?”

  I straightened. “Yeah, why?”

  “We met at Bobby Baker’s graduation party.”

  Ouch. The night Bobby and I broke up. Not a good time.

  I threw my bag over my shoulder. “Sorry, I don’t really remember. Can I go now?”

  He nodded. “Sorry for the inconvenience, Miss.”

  I marched past the gates, my hands frozen into fists until I stepped onto the sidewalks near the civilian housing. I didn’t stop until I stood before the open grassy area where I’d first seen the deer.

  “Okay, David,” I whispered. “Where are you?”

  I treaded over yesterday’s muddy footprints, and pushed aside the broken bramble I’d dragged him through last night. Instant cool embraced me the second I passed under the forest’s welcoming limbs. I searched for him for hours. Well, I was lost for a few of those hours, but I was looking while trying to find my way out.

  The air grew cooler, and I fingered the blanket in my bag. David was going to be cold. I couldn’t leave him out there alone. Then again, maybe he decided to go home, or maybe he got caught by whoever he was hiding from. I could very well have been looking for someone who wasn’t even out there anymore.

 
Evening’s coolness seeped into the forest. I glanced over my shoulder, unease stabbing me. He could be anywhere. Staying out there was stupid, and the sun was going down. If I didn’t get home before Dad…Well, let’s just say dad getting home before me was just not an option. I’d end up in reform school or something.

  Still—turning down the trail that led out of the woods was the hardest thing I’d ever done.

  7

  Score! No dad to be seen. I skipped into the kitchen, plucked some chop meat out of the fridge and threw it onto a frying pan. While it sizzled, I grabbed a box of taco shells from the cabinet. I could manage a little Mexican food, and it would look like I’d been cooking for a least an hour.

  I chopped up some lettuce and tomatoes and stirred the seasoning package into the meat. I’d made a typical ‘Jess is cooking’ mess before Dad came in.

  A day’s stubble marred Dad’s square jaw. He rubbed his swollen eyes and looked up at me. “How’d you get home?”

  Oops.

  “Oh, umm, Mrs. Baker dropped me off.” Score one point for Jess. I was turning in to a half-decent liar. Felt like crap about it, though.

  He slumped down on a kitchen chair and held his forehead.

  “Dad, are you okay?”

  “I’ve had better days. Thanks for cooking, pequeña.”

  I scooped together a taco for each of us and sat down. “So, what’s going on?”

  He chewed and swallowed. “I talked to Grandma. She’s still going to be here Thursday morning, but she’s going to pick you up and the two of you will be on the next plane to Florida.”

  “But…”

  He raised his hand up. Why did that always stop me dead in my tracks? “They’re not dropping this investigation. They’re making evacuation plans for all the neighboring towns.”

  “What? Why?”

  “For the worst case scenario.”

  I set my tortilla shell on my plate. “And what are the chances of having a worst case scenario?”

  “Slim, but not impossible.”

  He stared at the bitten end of his taco. His mind seemed far away.

  David was a freaking kid for goodness sake. What were they making such a big deal about? Unless it wasn’t David at all. Maybe they were afraid of the same person David was hiding from. I wiped my hands on a napkin. There were just too many possibilities. Too many maybes to try to wiggle around. I wanted answers, and the guy sitting beside me had them.