Backfire

by Vanessa Acton

  Copyright © 2017 by Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.

  All rights reserved. International copyright secured. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc., except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.

  Darby Creek

  A division of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.

  241 First Avenue North

  Minneapolis, MN 55401 USA

  For reading levels and more information, look up this title at www.lernerbooks.com.

  Front cover: © Tom Reichner/Shutterstock.com (fire), © iStockphoto.com/Marina Mariya (swirl).

  Images in this book used with the permission of: © Tom Reichner/Shutterstock.com (fire), © iStockphoto.com/Marina Mariya (swirl).

  Main body text set in Janson Text LT Std 12/17.5. Typeface provided by Adobe Systems.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Acton, Vanessa, author.

  Title: Backfire / by Vanessa Acton.

  Description: Minneapolis : Darby Creek, [2017] | Series: Day of disaster | Summary: “A wildfire threatens to obliterate everything in a boy’s town. All he knows might be lost. Will he make it out in time? And will his home survive the blaze?”— Provided by publisher.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016019272 (print) | LCCN 2016034211 (ebook) | ISBN 9781512427752 (lb : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781512430943 (pb : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781512427820 (eb pdf)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Wildfires—Fiction. | Fires—Fiction. | Survival—Fiction. | Nevada—Fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.A228 Bac 2017 (print) | LCC PZ7.1.A228 (ebook) | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016019272

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  1-41500-23361-7/21/2016

  For H. A., who can’t do simple math, and for A. W., who can do so much more than that: I’ll need you on my team for the apocalypse.

  1

  Elijah

  The day of the disaster, Elijah was bored out of his mind. He was supposed to be on a camping trip with his friends, not sitting at home with a dog who hated him and an uncle who treated him like a kid.

  For the past forty-eight hours, Marco had kept Elijah busy with chores. “This is character building, Elijah”—Marco’s favorite phrase. When your uncle is your legal guardian, you can still argue with him, but it won’t get you very far.

  This morning, Marco was giving Elijah a break. The lawn was mowed, the floors were mopped, the laundry was done. Elijah figured his character must be built enough for one weekend. Which meant he could spend today doing what Hayden, Nevada, was best known for: nothing.

  So now Elijah sat on the living room couch watching Storage Locker Makeover. Serafina, the overweight dog, lay on the floor in front of the game cabinet with one suspicious eye open. That mutt must be at least half-cat. If you hugged her, petted her, even rubbed her ears, she’d look at you like, “Come on. Aren’t we both adults?” After a year of living with Marco, Elijah had figured out that Serafina just wanted to be left alone. He respected that. He often felt the same way in Marco’s house.

  Elijah wondered when Brenna and Keegan and Nicole would get back from Topaz State Park. Probably tonight, since it was Sunday. School didn’t start for three more weeks, but his friends all had summer jobs. He’d had one too, until this Thursday.

  It hadn’t been his fault, getting fired. He’d arranged for a coworker to cover his Thursday shift so he could pack for the trip. When the coworker didn’t show up, the manager blamed Elijah. Never mind that people flaked on their shifts all the time—the manager had never liked Elijah. It had something to do with the fact that serving concessions in a movie theater wasn’t Elijah’s dream job. And the fact that Elijah got bored sometimes, messed around sometimes, ate patrons’ leftover popcorn sometimes. In the manager’s mind that added up to being a lazy, unreliable worker.

  Elijah’s uncle was on the manager’s side. “You gave up on that job long before now,” Marco had said. “You stopped trying. That’s just as bad as if you’d quit.” In Marco’s mind, quitting was worse than some federal crimes. And even though Elijah hadn’t technically quit, the punishment was the same.

  Which was how a weekend of camping with friends became a weekend of “character building.”

  Elijah shifted on the couch. Like most of Marco’s furniture, the couch was old. It had seen better times and fewer lumps. Elijah remembered sitting on it as a little kid, when Marco still lived in a trailer, years before he built this house.

  The camping trip had been his idea in the first place—his and Brenna’s. They had been friends since the sandbox stage of their lives, and both their families loved the outdoors. How many times had they all gone hiking or camping together at Topaz State Park? At least twice a year for as long as Elijah could remember. And now—with both Elijah’s parents gone—he’d looked forward to this trip more than he liked to admit. Keegan would be there to crack jokes. Nicole would be there to get excited and amazed by every magical moment. And Brenna would be there to plan it all out, get them from Point A to Point B, and just let him be himself.

  Instead, he was home, dealing with his un-built character. When the others got back, they’d tell him all their stories from the weekend. Nicole would say that they’d missed him, that it was a shame he couldn’t come. Keegan would ask, What’s your uncle’s problem? Did he really have to ground you just because you lost your job? Doesn’t he trust you at all?

  Elijah could only answer the third question: nope. Marco never trusted him. Maybe Marco thought Elijah’s parents had rubbed off on him. Maybe Marco was just a jerk.

  “THIS IS A SPECIAL BULLETIN FROM THE CONLEY COUNTY SHERRIFF’S OFFICE.”

  The voice on the TV cut off whatever the show’s hosts had been saying. The screen now showed a local news anchor sitting behind a desk. “A wildfire is spreading rapidly through western Conley County,” announced the newscaster. “High-speed winds are driving the flames north. A Level Three mandatory evacuation notice has been issued for the town of Carthage . . . ”

  Elijah sat up straight on the couch. Serafina lifted a floppy ear. Carthage was just to the south of Hayden. Wildfires weren’t unusual this time of year, but Elijah couldn’t remember the last time one had been this close.

  The newscaster added, “The park service has evacuated one campsite in Topaz State Park. The rest of the park remains open. Park officials say that the fire is still not a threat to park facilities or visitors.”

  Topaz State Park. Elijah’s thoughts went straight to his friends. Are they in danger?

  The newscaster continued, “Level Two voluntary evacuation warnings are issued for Diamond Ridge, Hayden, and Scoria. Residents of these towns should be ready to leave their homes at a moment’s notice.”

  Oh, crap. “Hey, Marco!” Elijah called

  From the basement, his uncle responded, “Polo!”

  And Elijah was the immature one, somehow.

  “Get up here, man. There’s a wildfire happening—and it’s coming our way.”

  2

  Brenna

  All along, Brenna had had a bad feeling about this camping trip.

  Partly because Elijah couldn’t come. Brenna loved Keegan and Nicole, but they weren’t experienced campers. Nicole had just moved to Hayden from Reno, and she’d never spent more than a few hours at a time outdoors. And Keegan had been to Topaz State Park only once, on an eighth grade field trip. Elijah, on the other hand, knew this whole area as well as Brenna did. They’d both camped and hiked here with their families every summer. Until last year, when Elijah’s mom l
eft and his dad went to prison.

  If Elijah were here, this whole weekend would be going more smoothly, Brenna thought. Keegan wouldn’t be questioning everything Brenna said. (“Are you sure that’s the best route to Topaz Lake? Because I was thinking . . .”) And Nicole would be trying a little harder. (“I mean, I guess we can go one more mile—if we have to.”)

  Elijah was good at convincing people. Brenna could make the exact same suggestion that Elijah would’ve made, say the exact same thing he would’ve said, and get crap for it. By now—the trip’s third and final day—it had officially gotten on her nerves.

  As the three of them hiked through the park on this hot Sunday morning, she kept reminding herself that normally Keegan and Nicole were great. Normally Nicole wasn’t a complainer. Normally Keegan respected her intelligence. She loved them both—she really did—but she was never, ever going into the wilderness with them again.

  It’s more than that, though, Brenna thought. The uneasiness that’d been in her stomach all weekend wasn’t just the result of her frustration. It wasn’t just because they’d had to leave Elijah back in Hayden and the other two were getting under her skin.

  So what else was bothering her?

  The air.

  It was so hot, so dry. Dangerously dry.

  And if the air was dry, so was the ground: the grass, the brush, the aspen and juniper trees. Topaz State Park was one giant fire hazard.

  It was peak wildfire season in Nevada. Every summer, the blazes seemed to be bigger and more frequent. Brenna’s dad blamed careless people who set off fireworks or built bonfires in wooded areas. But the drought was the real problem. Without rain, all the vegetation was brittle. Everything burned more easily than usual. Once a fire started, it was harder to put out. The smallest spark could send a whole forest up in flames.

  Brenna tried not to think about that. This was their last day at the park. They’d have to leave by early evening. Quit stressing out and just enjoy yourself, she thought, knowing that’s what Elijah would tell her if he were here.

  The three of them were heading uphill along the trail that led to Nero Canyon. Scrawny aspen trees surrounded them on either side. The hot sun filtered down through the branches. Brenna was already starting to sweat. She adjusted the bandanna wrapped around her forehead.

  It felt good to be moving—and to know that she was carrying everything she needed. Her rolled-up sleeping bag and lightweight tent were strapped to the outside of her backpack. Inside the backpack she had her food, water, map, first aid kit, flashlight, compass, and phone. She’d had to save her money for a long time to afford her own gear. Everything she had was top-notch, but she didn’t have anything beyond the essentials. None of the fancy extra gear that Keegan had brought—nylon rope, a mini-pickax and shovel, about six kinds of pocket knives . . .

  “Hey, Bren.” Keegan waved a hand in front of her face. “Are you sure it’ll take us till noon to get to Nero Canyon?”

  Brenna bit back a sigh. “Yep. It’s simple math. Right now it’s ١٠:١٥. We’re about five miles away from the canyon. We just passed that sign that said so, remember? And we’re walking at a speed of about three miles per hour—maybe a little slower since we’re going uphill. So it’ll take us a little less than two hours to reach the canyon.”

  “Okay, relax. I believe you.”

  “I am relaxed. I was just answering your question.”

  “Just a yes would’ve been fine.”

  Not true, though, thought Brenna. Ever since we left Hayden, you’ve been testing me. It’s like you can’t trust my judgment unless I can prove I’m right.

  And she could prove it—because that was how her brain worked. Elijah always said that he loved the wilderness because it didn’t have rules. But Brenna loved it for the opposite reason. Nature did have rules. It had shapes that broke down into perfect triangles, measurements that were all multiples of the same number. Nature was tricky and sometimes dangerous. But it did make sense.

  Not like certain people. Not like Keegan, who was usually so laid-back. Brenna hadn’t expected him to give her a hard time, to act like she was some kind of amateur. Being the only guy in the group and having a bunch of fancy equipment didn’t make him the expert here.

  “I wish we’d gone back to Topaz Lake instead,” said Nicole. “I wanted to do some more swimming.”

  “You can swim at the community center,” said Keegan. “Where in Hayden can you see a canyon? Plus there’s a creek on the way.”

  “That’s not the same,” Nicole insisted. And what was wrong with her? Brenna had seen Nicole squeal with delight over a ladybug. Why wasn’t Topaz State Park boggling her mind with its beauty? She had turned into a grumbler as mysteriously as Keegan had turned into a . . . Best not to finish that thought.

  Being in the outdoors doesn’t always bring out the best in people, Brenna reminded herself. It probably isn’t bringing out the best in me right now either. I might be feeling less judgmental if I were in an air-conditioned room.

  Keegan and Nicole kept debating the merits of the canyon versus the lake. Brenna stopped listening. If Elijah were here . . .

  The wind suddenly shifted direction, coming out of the southeast. It whipped at the side of Brenna’s face, as strong and warm as a blow dryer.

  The scent of burning leaves brushed against her nose and trickled into her throat. She paused, fiddling with her backpack strap.

  “Do you smell that?” she asked the others.

  “Oh my god,” murmured Nicole. Brenna took that as a yes.

  “What?” said Keegan, sniffing doubtfully.

  Brenna resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. He had to smell it. But she said it out loud anyway.

  “Smoke.”

  3

  Elijah

  Elijah could hear the TV from his bedroom. A news reporter was talking about firefighting methods.

  “Firefighters are setting controlled backfires in the path of the fire’s main front. These backfires will burn vegetation before the main fire reaches it, leaving the main fire with no fuel. If this strategy fails to slow the fire, the fire department will send in helicopters to spray water and fire retardant on the flames . . .”

  Why are the controlled burns called backfires? Elijah wondered. Not the most optimistic name. Maybe he should ask his neighbor, Mrs. Lucas. Her husband had been a firefighter.

  “What are you doing?” Marco appeared in Elijah’s bedroom doorway. He’d finally finished his morning workout and come upstairs.

  Elijah looked up from the duffel bag he was packing. “Getting ready. In case we have to leave. Carthage just got evacuated. We might be next.”

  Marco squared his shoulders. He was a big-ish guy. Muscular. Even though he was only thirty, most people thought he was at least ten years older. He had the face of someone you wouldn’t want to get in a fight with. “I’m not leaving this house. It’s gonna take more than a little heat to send me running.”

  Marco was always saying dramatic stuff like this. He made a huge point of never giving up on anything, of finishing whatever he started. Elijah often wondered if Marco had been born this way—if his uncle and his dad had always been opposites. Or maybe Marco had become ultra-responsible on purpose to set himself apart from his brother.

  Either way, it was irritating.

  “This isn’t just a little heat, Marco. It’s miles and miles of fire. And it’s, like, zero percent contained. The firefighters on the scene haven’t made any progress at all. There’s aerial footage on TV. It’s not pretty.”

  “I won’t let anything damage this house,” said Marco grimly. “We’ll fireproof the crap out of it. And I’ll stand out there with a hose if I have to. Come on, let’s get to work.”

  Elijah glanced at Serafina. The dog had gone back to napping—not that she would’ve taken Elijah’s side.

  I’ve clearly been grounded too long, Elijah thought. I’m hoping a dog will back me up in an argument.

  Elijah spent the next
half hour closing windows and doors, taking down curtains, moving furniture to the center of each room, and carrying the lawn chairs from the back patio to the basement. Meanwhile, Marco hooked up the garden hose outside and filled about six buckets with water.

  “What are you doing, man?” asked Elijah as he joined him in the front yard. “Last time I checked, you weren’t a firefighter.”

  “I’ll fight anything that threatens my home,” said Marco. “Get me a shovel and a rake from the garage, will you?”

  “So you’re gonna hold back the flames with a rake?”

  “Just do it!”

  Marco turned on the hose and aimed it at the side of the house. Elijah watched as the blast of water soaked the siding. Then he looked around at the rest of the front yard. Like most yards in the neighborhood, it was pretty bare: a sad-looking patch of freshly mowed brown grass, bordered by the driveway and the sidewalk. Marco had never planted bushes or trees. Landscaping wasn’t his thing. Elijah, the incurable nature lover, had always thought it looked pretty depressing. But now it looked like a smartly maintained buffer zone—a protective barrier that would offer very little fuel for an oncoming wall of flame.

  Elijah just wasn’t sure it would be enough.

  By now he could smell the smoke. There was a smudge of gray haze on the southern horizon. Hayden was a small town, built on flat land, with no tall buildings to block Elijah’s view. So, on the upside, at least they’d be able to see the fire coming.

  He headed for the garage. On his way, he pulled out his phone and tried calling Brenna. No luck. Cell service was pretty spotty at Topaz State Park, so that didn’t surprise him. Still, he shot a group text to Brenna, Keegan, and Nicole, asking if they’d heard about the fire. Asking if they were okay. That was the best he could do right now.

  In the garage, Elijah glanced at Marco’s car. That would be their getaway vehicle if things got ugly and a mandatory evacuation went into effect. Marco had bought the car used, already on its last leg. When Elijah drove it, it stalled at least fifty percent of the time. He hoped it wouldn’t pick today to die completely.