Elijah brought the rake to Marco, who immediately gave him another chore. “Go next door to check on Mrs. Lucas,” Marco said. “See if she needs anything. Tell her I can hose down her house for her if she wants.”
Mrs. Lucas was roughly two hundred years old. She was half-blind and half-deaf—maybe three-quarters deaf. But she worked in her vegetable garden every day. Did most of her own cooking and cleaning. Always managed to be flawlessly dressed. Elijah had once spotted her on her roof, cleaning the gutters. He was pretty sure that if she wanted the outside of her house sprayed with a hose, she could do it herself.
The one thing she couldn’t do was drive.
***
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” chirped Mrs. Lucas when she finally answered the door. She was a tiny woman with skin the color and texture of a walnut. Her short, curly hair was dyed a defiant black. Elijah had never seen her without makeup—or without about a pound of jewelry on her wrists and neck. “This isn’t my first wildfire—far from it. My husband was a firefighter, you know.”
“Yes ma’am,” said Elijah. He’d heard a lot about old Mr. Lucas over the past year. A family man, a hard worker—the type of person Marco approved of. Elijah didn’t mind listening to Mrs. Lucas’s stories about her deceased husband, mostly because Mrs. Lucas was the one telling those stories. He suspected that if old Mr. Lucas had been married to anybody else, he would’ve seemed kind of boring, even with his death-defying career.
“I’m all packed in case there’s an evacuation,” Mrs. Lucas went on. “My daughter’s driving up from Fern Knoll to get me.”
“That’s a three-hour drive, Mrs. Lucas.”
“She’s a fast driver. Just like I used to be.” Mrs. Lucas winked.
Elijah laughed. “All right. You just call my uncle if you need anything in the meantime.”
“Sure will. I bet your uncle’s got enough to worry about, though. I remember when he started building that house. I never saw somebody so proud, so excited.”
It was hard to imagine Marco excited. Marco just wasn’t that kind of guy. But Elijah did remember when his uncle finally saved enough money to build his own house: Marco had always been tall, but for the first time he seemed to stand up straight.
Elijah remembered when he and his parents had gotten their first tour of the finished house. His uncle knew the place inside out—could’ve drawn you a map of the electrical wiring or told you the entire history of the bathroom tile. Sure, the house was small. Sure, the furniture was old. But Marco had earned every inch of the place. In a way, it was his life’s work.
To lose all that, to start over from scratch . . . Elijah’s stomach twisted. “I’m a little worried about him, Mrs. Lucas. He’s outside with a hose and a bunch of buckets of water, like he thinks he can scare the fire off or something.”
Mrs. Lucas pursed her carefully painted lips. “You make sure he leaves the firefighting to the professionals. It’s a lot of trouble for the firefighters when people insist on staying in their homes. Very distracting when they have to rescue people instead of focusing on the fire itself. Tell your uncle to think about that.”
“I will, ma’am—thanks.”
He looked over his shoulder, south toward Carthage. The smoke already looked closer. Elijah could see a thick column of it, rising above the trees in the distance. He couldn’t believe how . . . detailed that smoke was. He could see every fold, every ruffle in the white plumes. It was a little like watching milk dissolve in black coffee.
Except that this smoke wasn’t contained.
4
Brenna
“Don’t panic,” Brenna told Nicole, who was clearly panicking.
“But if there’s smoke, there’s a fire—”
“Somewhere,” Brenna cut her off. “There’s a fire somewhere. It might not be anywhere near us. You can smell smoke from up to thirty miles away. We might not be in any danger. And even if we are, we still need to stay calm.”
Keegan wrinkled his forehead. “Couldn’t it just be smoke from a regular campfire? Why should we even assume that there’s a wildfire?”
“Because the park has a ban on campfires this time of year,” snapped Brenna. “People are only supposed to use gas or propane camp stoves. I explained that before we got here.”
“Oh, yeah. Huh.” Keegan sniffed again, as if he could smell hidden clues in the smoke. “Well, maybe someone broke the rules.”
“That would be a really, really bad idea. Especially at this time of year.”
Brenna swung her backpack off her shoulder and pulled out her phone. No service. They’d just have to use their best instincts.
“There’s a clearing a little farther up this trail, if I’m remembering right,” she said. “We should be able to get a good view from there. If the fire looks close, we can head back to the park entrance where we left my car.”
“Are you sure there’s actually a clearing up ahead?” asked Keegan.
Here we go again. “Let’s find out,” she said. “Unless you’d rather turn around and leave right now?”
“No, I’m good. Let’s try to get a look.”
Nicole bit her lip. “I don’t know. Maybe we should just head for the car.”
“The clearing’s not far, right?” said Keegan. “I mean, the alleged clearing.”
Mother of . . . Brenna took out her paper map of the park. She unfolded it and pointed to the trail they were on. “We’re here, just past that mile-marker. And look, here’s an open space about a quarter of a mile away. So, again, if we’re walking at three miles an hour—”
“Got it,” said Keegan.
“I hope so,” Brenna muttered.
They walked on, breathing in smoky air.
***
Five minutes later, they reached the clearing. From the rocky slope where they stood, they could see over miles of treetops.
Directly east of them, narrow tongues of red-orange flame shot up from the trees. Dark gray smoke curled into the sky.
“Whoa,” said Nicole.
“That’s pretty far away,” said Keegan. “And it might not even be heading in our direction.”
“True,” said Brenna. “In fact, the wind’s coming from the south. So it’s probably pushing the fire north—not west, toward us.”
Keegan nodded, looking satisfied that she agreed with him.
Brenna wasn’t finished, though. “But fires can change direction super fast. It all depends on which way the wind’s coming from. And even in the last few minutes, I noticed the wind shift at least twice. Which means we can’t be too careful. Let’s head back to the car.”
The smoke thickened in the air as they walked. Nicole coughed.
“Hold on,” said Brenna. She pulled out her water bottle and undid the bandanna around her neck. “Guys, pour some water on your bandannas. Once the cloth is damp, we can hold the bandannas against our mouths to help us breathe through the smoke.”
Keegan shook his head. “I’ve heard it’s better to use a dry cloth. Wet cloth could create steam that burns our lungs.”
“Sure, that would be true if we were right in the thick of the fire’s heat,” said Brenna impatiently. “But for that to be a concern, we’d have to be dealing with temperatures of, like, two hundred degrees Fahrenheit. The fire’s not close enough to make the air that hot.” Yet. “Right now we need to keep the smoke out of our lungs. And a wet cloth will help filter the smoke.”
As if to prove Brenna’s point, Nicole coughed again.
Keegan frowned at Brenna as if she’d given him a tough riddle to solve—a challenge, instead of the plain facts. “Are you sure about—”
“Yes I’m sure!” Brenna exploded. “But if you don’t believe me, feel free to keep your cloth dry! Enjoy the smoke inhalation! Which, by the way, is the main cause of death from wildfires. But go ahead, play devil’s advocate. You’ve obviously spent a lot of time learning about this subject—at least ten minutes of Internet research, I bet.”
If Elijah we
re here, he wouldn’t have to shout at Keegan. He wouldn’t have to explain and justify and practically write essays about every little thing. If Elijah were here, they’d probably be back in Brenna’s car by now, heading home to safety.
Keegan frowned, took a swig from his water bottle, and silently dribbled a few drops onto his bandanna. Nicole did the same, and they all pulled their moistened bandannas over their mouths.
An orangey-pink tinge seeped into the sky, into the sunlight. Overhead, Brenna saw what looked like floating scraps of blackened paper: ash from the fire, drifting toward them.
Brenna slowed down. Why are we seeing ash? If the fire’s to the west of us, and we’re heading south . . . why does it seem like we’re getting closer to it?
A minute later, they saw the other fire. The one that blocked their path to the park entrance.
5
Elijah
“Marco, can I have my car key back?” Elijah asked.
Marco was leaning a ladder against the side of the house. “Why? You going somewhere?”
“Not right now,” said Elijah. “But if we have to evacuate, shouldn’t we both have access to the car?”
Marco narrowed his eyes. “You’re still grounded.”
“I figured.”
Marco reached into his jeans pocket, took out his key ring, and removed the key he’d confiscated from Elijah on Friday. “Listen, I’m not leaving. If we get an evacuation order, you should take the car and Serafina and get out of here. But I’m staying.”
He handed Elijah the car key and turned back to the ladder.
Elijah cleared his throat. “Mrs. Lucas says—”
“I’m not having a conversation about this, Elijah. I’ve got work to do. Gotta make sure the gutters are totally clean and then fill ’em with water.”
What? That’s a thing people do?
Maybe it was a thing homeowners did. Elijah didn’t know much about that. But he did know a little about what could stop miles of sixty-foot-high flames in their tracks. Fancy helicopters dumping tons of water and flame retardant might do the trick. Or those controlled burns, the backfires that ate up all the possible fuel in a fire’s path. Or a massive thunderstorm.
Water-filled gutters and an ordinary guy with a rake? Unlikely.
Elijah looked down at the car key in his hand. He tried to think of a time when he’d managed to change his uncle’s mind—about anything.
He drew a blank.
When he glanced at the horizon again, the smoke column looked twice as big.
6
Brenna
The second fire was a lot smaller than the one to the east.
But it was also a lot closer. Five miles away at the most, judging by the landmarks Brenna could still make out. And with the wind this strong, the fire had to be moving at almost ten miles an hour. One mile every six minutes . . .
Even from this distance, Brenna could tell that the flames were massive—towers of flickering orange looming above the trees. Lunging forward like soldiers marching in formation, those flames consumed everything in their path. She couldn’t see beyond the fire, but she knew what it must be leaving in its wake: a long stretch of blackened, dead earth.
“Where did that come from?” asked Nicole, her voice shrill with fear. “It wasn’t there earlier this morning . . . ”
“It must’ve been sparked by floating embers from the main fire,” said Brenna. The smoke was thick now, wrapping everything in a grayish mist. Brenna’s lungs stung, even with the bandanna over her mouth.
Stay calm. If Elijah were here, he’d stay calm. Elijah loved when nature threw surprises at him. He loved that no matter how much you knew about the wilderness, you could never be sure what it would do next.
Brenna sort of hated that.
At least when it was a matter of life and death.
Elijah would’ve risen to this challenge. He would’ve accepted what he couldn’t predict and rolled with it.
But Elijah wasn’t here.
Brenna was the only non-rookie on this camping trip—even if Keegan wouldn’t admit that. It was up to her to get them out of this.
“Okay,” she said. “Time for a change of plans.”
Nicole gripped Brenna’s arm. “What do we do?”
Brenna took a cautious breath. “Well, we obviously can’t get to the entrance. So we’ll have to take shelter inside the park.” She slung her backpack off her shoulder. “We cover up any exposed skin as much as possible. Just in case we run into burning embers from the fire—or anything else that could burn us. Did you guys bring any clothes made of cotton or wool?”
“Wool?” Keegan snorted. “In the middle of summer? Are you serious?”
Brenna sighed. This was actually a fair point. “I’m just asking because a lot of synthetic fabrics can melt really easily and make burns worse. So it’s safest to stick to natural fabrics.”
“I think my jacket is cotton,” said Nicole, digging around in her own backpack.
“Sounds like you’re planning for the worst-case scenario,” said Keegan.
Brenna raised her eyebrows at him. “When the worst-case scenario seems pretty likely to happen, it’s a good idea to plan for it. Don’t you agree?”
“But where do we go?” pressed Nicole.
Brenna took a light cotton sweater out of her backpack and pulled it over her head before answering the question. “The safest place would be a big body of water.”
“So, Topaz Lake?” said Nicole shakily, pulling out her jacket and checking the tag. “Or the creek on the way to Nero Canyon?”
“We should head back north to the creek,” said Keegan. “That’s closer to us than the lake.”
“But the route to the creek is uphill,” said Brenna. “Fire travels way faster uphill. The lake is downhill—”
“But the creek is farther away from the fire.”
“The lake’s west of us. This fire’s to the south. And the wind’s blowing mostly from south to north—toward us. So if we head west toward the lake, we’ll be moving perpendicular to the fire. Which is actually the safest direction to move in this kind of situation. Nobody can outrun a wildfire for very long, so moving in the exact opposite direction doesn’t do a lot of good.”
“But the creek is closer to us,” Keegan protested again.
“Not by much. It’s a mile and a half away. The lake’s only two miles away. We can be there in less than half an hour if we move fast. And it’s the safer option. A fire this big could easily jump the creek and surround us. The lake’s a much bigger barrier.”
“I still don’t think—” Keegan started.
Nicole cut him off. “You know what, Keegan? Shut up.” She zipped up the jacket she’d just put on and shouldered her backpack. “Brenna knows what she’s talking about.”
Huh, thought Brenna. Didn’t see that coming.
***
They veered off the trail and jogged through the trees, moving along uneven ground scattered with brownish vegetation. Brenna watched her compass, making sure they stayed on track. Keegan held his compass too. He kept glancing between it and Brenna. Brenna felt as if they were in a bad TV show, where Keegan was some kind of super-spy and Brenna was a suspected double agent. Like she wasn’t tense enough already.
Why did he have to make such a show of not trusting her judgment?
Why were they friends? She wished she could remember.
She wished Elijah were here.
Elijah’s not here. You’re here—and you can do this.
They jogged along the edge of a narrow ravine. Overhead, above the sparse canopy of tree branches, birds carpeted the pinkish sky. They’re all flying in the same direction we’re going, Brenna noticed. West—perpendicular to the second fire. So I must’ve made the right call.
Nicole surged forward, breaking into a full run. Not smart, thought Brenna. We should be saving our energy. Sprinting away from a fire was like using a fork to fend off attackers. It might work, but only as a last resort. And n
ot if you had to keep it up for hours.
“Careful,” Brenna warned Nicole. “Watch where you’re going.”
“Come on, Brenna,” said Keegan, who was also speeding up. “Quit telling everyone what to do. Do you have to act like you know everythi—”
His voice broke off as his foot slipped.
Brenna froze—and watched in horror as Keegan plunged sideways into the ravine.
7
Elijah
“This is a very fast-moving, wind-driven fire,” announced the news anchor. “In just a few hours it’s grown from a hundred acres to more than six thousand acres. Wind gusts are pushing it farther north at a speed of more than ten miles an hour.”
“This doesn’t look good,” Elijah remarked to Serafina. The dog ignored him, as usual.
The reporter continued, “At this time, the fire is only five percent contained. More than thirty homes in Carthage have been destroyed. A temporary evacuation center is being set up at the county fairgrounds . . . ”
Elijah looked around the living room. The obvious things were already in his duffel: a few changes of clothes, toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant, razor. But what if the house and everything in it actually burned? This wasn’t like packing for an overnight trip. This was like packing for an entire life.
His pulse spiked. “Crap,” he said to Serafina. Serafina rolled onto her side.
Elijah pulled out his phone and looked up directions to the county fairgrounds. It should be pretty easy to get there, if they just drove straight through downtown Hayden and then kept going east. They could be there in twenty minutes if they took either Park Drive or Rochester Avenue. Elijah saved both routes in his phone.
Then he got to work.
He moved quickly from room to room. Stuffed more clothes into his duffel and his school backpack. Filled a trash bag with any food that wouldn’t spoil. Tossed in Serafina’s food and water bowls, a bag of her dog food, her heartworm medicine, and the snacks that were good for her teeth. Carried everything to the car and loaded up the trunk. There was still room for a couple more bags in there, plus they had the whole backseat.
Backfire Page 2
