“How are we going to get to Dad?”
Lily’s voice choked, and Kat turned to the back seat. Lily, her eyes huge and panicked, sniffled with each breath. Nirav stared out the car window at the flames, and he clung to Tye with both hands. Juni sat between the two children, panting. She whined when Kat looked at her.
“We’re going to be fine.” Kat fought to keep her rising panic out of her voice. Shit. Shit. Shit. If only she’d wakened sooner. Moved faster. Gotten here in time. “Wait here. Let me see if there’s some way around.”
“Don’t leave us.” Lily’s scream ripped into Kat’s jangling nerves.
“I’m not leaving you. Watch. You’ll see me every minute.”
Kat climbed out of the car, coughing as she took in a lungful of smoke. Her eyes watered, and she blinked hard to see. Intense heat pulsed toward her, as if the fire were exhaling to warn her away. She stood at least ten yards back, but the heat seared her face and the fronts of her arms and legs. She broke into an instant sweat.
Glowing cinders blew forward from the flames, two landing on her shorts. She brushed them off fast, but they left flecks of black on the fabric. Ashes clung to her hair, her face, her clothing. She took a few tentative steps toward the tangle blocking their way, but the fire advanced, jumping toward her along the dry grass that lined the verge of the road.
Bizarrely, birds—red-winged blackbirds, sparrows, even a few bluebirds—swooped low to the ground at the very edge of the advancing flames. Kat watched in confusion until a grasshopper leaped high in panic, only to be plucked from the air in midjump by a barn swallow.
Kat wanted to run, wanted to scream, but her legs froze and her voice locked. She stood hypnotized, staring at the flames, transfixed like a mouse immobilized by the sight of a cat. The fire spoke in tongues: pops and crackles as pockets of sap exploded, whispers as the dry grasses caught, shuddering crashes as branches and whole trees fell in the distance.
She had imagined a nicely behaved fire, something managed by a friendly red fire engine with a stream of water sufficient to quell a nuisance. Such suburban approaches would be hopeless here. This fire wasn’t domesticated. It was a predator.
Kat trembled, tentacles of fear tightening down on every muscle, her body crackling with tension. She’d convinced herself she could meet death head on, but she hadn’t expected it so soon. She was going to die on this mountain, not home in her bed. She had minutes, not months, and she couldn’t even tell Sara good-bye.
Grief flooded every cell and swamped her thinking. She shook herself, forcing herself back into action. Move, damn it. Do something. She couldn’t afford to waste time. She glanced into the trees and underbrush on the right, thinking perhaps they could scramble around the burning roadblock on foot, but the thick undergrowth already smoldered. Even if she’d been alone, she didn’t think she could outflank the flames.
Kat coughed and wiped her eyes against her sleeve, her head pounding, then hurried back to the car and got in. She twisted in her seat and gave the children what she hoped was a reassuring look, but based on the horrified expressions on their faces, they must have recognized the truth.
“We’ll be fine.” Perhaps if she kept saying it, she’d believe it. The words didn’t stop her heart from pummeling her ribs with a force that shook her whole body. She glanced at her cell phone. No bars. No signal. No surprise.
“We’ll be fine. Honest.” She threw the car into reverse. “We’ll just move on to plan B.”
Her voice shook only a little, sounding almost confident, an actress playing her part. Inside, pure terror was winning.
They weren’t going to drive down this mountain to safety. They weren’t going to reach Scott and Malcolm. They weren’t going to call anyone for rescue.
Plan B didn’t exist.
CHAPTER TEN
THURSDAY, 6:40 AM
Malcolm debated their options in silence as the car rocketed down the mountain road. If the advancing fire was only now reaching the bridge they’d just left behind, then they might have time before it reached Kat’s cottage higher on the mountain. Time, but not much. They needed a helicopter, and Malcolm had no clue how fast the Forest Service would move in mobilizing equipment. They had to act on their own.
Scott slammed on the brakes when they reached his cottage.
“What the hell are you doing?” No reason to stop.
“Landline.” Scott was already climbing out of the car. “I’ll call. Let the authorities know people are trapped.”
Fair enough. Get people moving. Malcolm tried his cell phone again, but it was hopeless. They needed to get farther down the mountain. The smoke smelled even more caustic now, his throat burning with each inhalation.
Scott must have gotten through—he was taking long enough. Too long. More minutes wasted. Malcolm had his door half open, ready to switch over to his car and leave on his own, but here came Scott at last, loaded down with a laptop, a suitcase, and a computer bag. He tossed them into the back seat, climbed behind the wheel, and placed a handful of jangly girl’s bracelets on the console between the front seats. Malcolm settled back. He could get his car later. Or not at all. It made no difference.
Scott threw the car back in gear, wrenched it back onto the road, and sped off.
“What did they say?” Malcolm hoped Scott had emphasized the essentials. He wasn’t used to working with such an inexperienced person.
“No luck. Phone line down.”
“You spent all that time in there packing?” Unbelievable.
Scott shrugged and said nothing.
Malcolm checked the mountainside below them as Scott drove. No fire visible, but smoke cloaked the trees and ash wafted past like scraps of gray confetti. He tried the phone again. And again. At last, they hit pavement and the phone sprang to life. He hit the auto-dial code for his DC office and relaxed infinitesimally when it was answered on the first ring.
“Lassiter and Associates, how may I direct your call?”
Thank goodness. Stephanie on phone duty. She wouldn’t waste a precious second. “Steph. Me. I need a helicopter. Now. This minute. We need a winch and harnesses for rescue. About twenty miles southwest of Franklin, North Carolina.”
“Roger that.” The steady click of computer keys came through clearly. Steph was already searching through the company’s database of contacts. The agency didn’t often have a need for wilderness rescue, but it routinely used helicopters for secure transport.
Scott stared at him, his jaw hanging open, his attention returning to the road only because they approached a sharp turn.
“I’ve got a possible.” Stephanie’s voice held no hint of tension, but Malcolm knew she understood the urgency. He could picture her—alert, focused, efficient. “Hold while I call.”
The phone went silent. “Working on it,” he told Scott.
“What the hell? You’re whistling up a helicopter?” Scott’s voice was incredulous, a little kid awed by a magic trick.
His reaction did nothing to improve Malcolm’s assessment of him. How did this guy think rescue operations were run, anyway? By mystical incantations?
“Okay, got it.” Steph was back. “Pilot happened to already be at the airport; copilot is twenty minutes away. They’re hustling.”
“How long?” He glanced at his watch. 0652. They’d wasted almost an hour going up the mountain and coming back.
“They promise to pick you up by 0810.”
Too slow. “Tell them it’s an extra K for every minute they cut off the estimate. Don’t worry, this is my dime, not the company’s. Have them call me when they’re in the air. I’ll scout a landing site, give them specifics on where to pick me up.”
“Got it. Call back if you think of anything else you need.”
“Roger that.” At least things were moving. If he could get that chopper here, they had a chance of beating the fire to Kat’s cottage. “And Steph. Thanks. It’s Nirav … out there in a forest fire, trapped with two others.” His voice shook
on that last sentence, giving away more than he intended.
“Oh my god.” Her tone reflected both shock and concern. “That’s horrible. Let us know what else we can do at this end. And keep us posted.”
“Will do.” It felt good to know there were others out there rooting for their success. He disconnected the call and turned to find Scott glaring.
“Where to pick me up? You’re telling them to pick up only you? What about me? I’m coming with you.”
“Not necessary,” Malcolm snapped the words. “I can—”
A black pickup rounded the curve ahead, headed straight for them.
“Watch out!”
Scott hit the brakes too late, his reflexes bad, but fortunately the other driver was paying attention. The truck stopped inches from their front bumper. They had almost reached the main state road, and smoke drifted only in vague ribbons here, the worst of it blowing up the mountainside behind them.
Scott and Malcolm scrambled out of the car. The other driver lumbered from his seat, a middle-aged guy with sagging cheeks, sagging chins, and a sagging belly. His denim shirt had Jake embroidered over the breast pocket, like a mechanic or a clerk at Home Depot. Local. Not a professional, but he might be some help. They could afford the time while they waited for the chopper to arrive.
“Fire Department. You two okay?” the guy called.
“We’re fine.” Malcolm gave the answer in an intentionally calming tone before Scott even had his mouth open. “We’ve got three people trapped up the mountain.”
“One is my daughter.” Scott’s voice held all the urgency Malcolm had banished from his.
Jake reached without haste into the cab of his truck, pulled out a large folded paper, and flattened it on top of the pickup’s hood.
It was a high-resolution map of the area, printed in black and white with topographic lines. Roads and trails spider-webbed across its surface, and small squares, hand-drawn in ink, were labeled with names and numbers. Each represented a building. The corner of the map read West Valley Volunteer Fire Department. Malcolm scanned it carefully, looking for another possible route to Kat’s. Nothing.
He might have been only a volunteer, but Jake stuck to the point. “Three cottages up this road. What’s the situation?”
Scott opened his mouth, probably to give some long-winded account of his summer vacation plans, so Malcolm jumped in again.
“These two cottages are empty now.” He pointed to two squares. “The road’s blocked here.” He tapped the spot where the bridge had been. “No cell service. We couldn’t get through, and it’s probably worse now.” Malcolm pointed to the third square. Kat’s cottage. “Three people here. One woman, early fifties; one girl, about twelve?”—he glanced at Scott and paused for a split second to wait for his nod of agreement—“one boy, nine. The boy speaks limited English.”
Nirav. He must be terrified—but alive and terrified was better than dead. Malcolm quelled his roiling insides and ordered himself to wall off such distracting thoughts. No emotion, no sentiment, just facts.
“Not good.” Jake scratched his chin and shook his head. “The fire’s headed straight at them. Does the woman know these mountains?” He unclipped a walkie-talkie from his belt.
“I don’t think so.” She’d been here before, but she’d acted nervous up there alone. Not the outdoorsy type, that was for sure.
“Look, the girl is my daughter.” Scott hit the hood of the truck with his fist, his face creasing with pain at the impact. “You have to do something.” He acted like Jake had options.
Jake nodded and depressed the call button on his walkie-talkie. Scott shifted from one foot to the other, his panic radiating outward in waves, but Jake reported only the bare facts—two houses clear, three people trapped.
“We’ve notified the Forest Service firefighters, but it will take time for them to mobilize.” Jake’s voice was apologetic, but Scott took a step toward him and brought his hands up as if he planned to grab Jake by his shirt and shake some sort of action out of him.
Malcolm grabbed Scott’s arm and pulled him back. “Stop it. That won’t help.”
Scott subsided, grumbling, and Jake gave Malcolm a nod of thanks.
“I’ve never seen a fire get so big so fast,” Jake said. “This whole area is long overdue for a burn—way too much deadwood—and this wind isn’t helping. It’s nothing like those freight-train speeds they get out west, but it sure as hell is spreading.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry, but there’s no easy way to get to that last cottage if the road’s blocked.”
“I’ve called in a helicopter,” Malcolm said. “My company uses them often, and I had one of my staff members get things moving.”
Jake straightened, almost standing at attention. “A helicopter?” He nodded his approval. “That’ll help. We can send people in on foot from the other side cross-country, but that will take time.”
Malcolm pointed again to the map. “I thought this field by the road here would be the best place to land the chopper. I saw it when my son …” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “When my son and I went down to the lake. Is it far enough from the fire to be safe?”
Jake nodded. “Should work.” He tossed the map back into his truck. “I need to go check a few more houses on the old forest road south of here. I’ll radio the chief again and tell him you two are on your way. He’s down there with a crew now, trying to keep the main road clear.”
Scott and Malcolm returned to the car and waited while Jake inched his truck in a slow semicircle to head back downhill.
Scott wiped his palms on his shirtfront. He didn’t look at Malcolm. “Won’t the Forest Service have their own equipment and rescue teams?”
“The fire crews will bring their own choppers in, but this one may get here faster. It’s our best chance of rescue.” It was their only chance. Malcolm checked his watch again. 0720. Time had slowed.
Scott picked up the tangle of bracelets he had rescued from his cottage and held them for a long moment. He started to say something. Stopped. Malcolm expected some sort of complaint, but when he looked more closely, Scott seemed calmer, the touch of the bracelets perhaps a reminder of how much was at stake. “I keep picturing Lily. Frightened. Trapped without me.” He was shaking, but this time he looked Malcolm in the eye. “A helicopter. Thank you. I wouldn’t have known how.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THURSDAY, 6:45 AM
Kat backed her car uphill on the narrow road away from the wall of flame and at last found a space wide enough to turn around. She sped on as fast as she dared, wary of the steep drop-offs beside her, showering gravel at each precipitous switchback. In minutes, Kat, Lily, and Nirav were back at her cottage. Exactly where they’d started, but now worse off than before.
“Wait in the car.” Kat glanced back at the children, who huddled together with Juni sandwiched between them and Tye still crouched on Nirav’s lap. Now that the fire didn’t loom directly in front of them, Nirav no longer looked rigid with horror, but his eyes darted anxiously, and his breath came in audible gasps.
Lily clung to her armrest with whitened fingers. “Where are you going?” Her fear was reined in by a very thin strand.
“I need to check the fire. See which way it’s moving.”
Kat hurried to the edge of the drop-off, her eyes stinging and her stomach churning. Perhaps the situation had improved. But no. In the time she had wasted waking the children and driving down and back, the fire had eaten through acres of dry forest on the lowest stretch of the mountain, its appetite insatiable. She couldn’t hear it from this distance, but smoke laced her every breath, and a dark oppressive cloud hovered over the valley. A hot breeze hit her in the face, crisping her cheeks.
She glanced at the cottage. Its weathered clapboards would be no protection. She was tempted to believe the rocky span below her would do some good, perhaps even divert the flames, but she tossed the thought aside as soon as it occurred to her. Too narrow. She’d already seen
how the flames could jump.
Nothing lay between her and the fire. A switchblade of panic slashed through her thin veneer of calm.
“Kat, come on. Where are we going to go?” Lily’s last word screeched her terror.
Go. Escape.
But go where?
Kat’s head throbbed and she couldn’t concentrate. She needed Jim. Sara. Someone. She dug her fingernails hard into her palm, hoping the pain would help her focus. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t make such choices. What would Jim do if he were here? He would probably pull out some sort of backwoods magic trick. No help there.
Her shoulders slumped. Her feet were encased in concrete. If she made the wrong decisions, the children would die and it would be her fault, her fault, her fault. But there was no one else.
Kat reminded herself to breathe, her throat the width of a pencil. She forced herself to turn slowly. Ahead of her, the rocky drop-off, the advancing fire. To the right, the road, already hopeless. Behind her, the cottage, backed by a steep uphill tangle of rhododendron and mountain laurel, impenetrable on foot. To her left, the end of the gravel road, the mass of honeysuckle, the endless forest.
We’re trapped.
Kat’s gaze rested for a moment on the delicate white honeysuckle flowers, trembling in the breeze, and the sudden image of each blossom vaporizing into flames added yet another layer of horror to her waking nightmare. Then she froze.
A gap.
She’d noticed it before. A gap in the trees where two abandoned but still-visible ruts ran on the other side of the honeysuckle. An old logging road, a forgotten homestead road, perhaps a road to nowhere, but it had once been in use, and it led forward along the ridgeline. It wouldn’t take them directly away from the fire, but it led north, along the side of the mountains that overlooked the burning valley to the east. With luck, it could take them out of the fire’s direct path.
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