Under Wicked Sky: Book 1

by S. G. Seabourne

For the first time, I realized I had lived a prett sheltered life.

  Just sitting in place and hoping the fire didn't come wasn't an option. Running away to Carson City was probably impossible, and a really bad idea once we got there. Sure, there would be stores stocked with food in a city, but they might be on fire, too.

  Crossing the lake in a boat might be suicide.

  I stared out at the oncoming fire, then to the night-black lake. The shore on the opposite side wasn’t visible even on clear days. Lake Tahoe was huge. I said aloud, "I wish I knew how far it’s spread. It might be just as bad across the lake.” What we need is a helicopter, or a drone with a camera or something."

  "What we need is a whole company of firefighters," Dylan said. He also had turned away from the squabbling. Standing with me, he gazed out the window. "I'd give a lot to know if there was a natural fire break out there."

  Wait.

  I turned to him. "How exactly do firefighters fight wildfires, anyway?" I’d seen shows about them saving pets and kids in houses, but you couldn’t squirt a hose at a forest fire. “I know they have cargo planes full of retardant, but what else?”

  He shrugged. "Firebreaks. Cutting bare patches in the forest. Setting backfires to eat the fuel ahead of time. Stuff like that."

  Setting more fires seemed to be a bad idea. "Could we, like, hook the generator up to... a pump or something? Wet everything down around the house so it doesn't burn?"

  "Yeah!" Ben said. “I saw a garden hose outside!"

  Lilly must have overheard. She turned from her cousin to us. "We don't have a pump. We have city water, just like everyone else here. Besides, you can’t fight a wildfire with a hose," she added snidely to Ben.

  "We have a whole lake outside!" He pointed at the dark watery mass, and then stuck out his tongue at her.

  Dylan was kinder. "We do have the lake, but the garden hose isn't big enough. I don't think we can get it even to spray to the roof. But..." His eyebrows knit.

  I thought I knew where he was going. "Could we figure out a way to make a break around this house—like a clear patch of ground where the fire can't cross?"

  "We aren't firefighters," Terry said.

  I turned to him. "But why won't a firebreak work?"

  To my surprise, Lilly jumped in. "Actually... That's not a bad idea. Not around the house, that’s stupid," she added, reverting immediately back to her normal self. "We can’t let the fire get that close. But this whole subdivision is on a tiny peninsula that sticks out into the lake. We are already surrounded by water on three sides. The highway goes across and kind of acts like a break of its own." She pinched her thumb and forefinger close together to make a U shape in the space between. “The road connects here, with that mountain ridge on the other side.” She laid a finger of her other hand across the tip of her pointing finger and thumb. "All we have to do is expand it around both sides of the road. Make it wider."

  "And if the wind kicks up at all, the embers will fly right across," Terry said. "Then we will be trapped here, which is why the boat is the best idea."

  “We could at least try,” Dylan said.

  Terry pointed out the window. "Do you see that? That fire is completely out of control. It's stretched almost across the entire basin. There are six of us, including the baby. We can't take it on ourselves."

  I turned to him. "We don't have to. All we have to do is clear an area big enough so it doesn't cross. We don't know if the other side of the lake is just as bad. There might be fires all over the place for all we know. I say we try this."

  I turned to the others. I didn't want to do something as corny as ask for a vote. Ben would do whatever I decided. Dylan was on my side, too. Lilly was nodding along with me. That left Terry and Merlot. The baby didn’t get a say.

  Dylan, of course, stepped in to play peacemaker. “Why don’t we do both?” he said, sounding excited. "We drive the boat out to the launch and stock it with food, just in case we have to run. Then we work on the firebreak. Clear out some trees and brush and stuff. Father has—had a couple chainsaws in the garage. We can fuel them with the generator gas...”

  Dylan trailed off, and then slumped. Lilly and I exchanged a look, realizing the problem at the same moment.

  “You’re worried about a noise a little boat will make out on the lake, and you think running chainsaws in a forest full of griffins is a good idea?” Terry asked his cousin coldly.

  “Well...” Dylan looked out the window, frowning. “I guess I just assumed... and shovels won’t be enough, will it?” He looked to me. I reluctantly shook my head.

  It reminded me of those times the electricity went out in the winter. I’d get bored of being outside in the cold, come in, and turn on the TV only to remember there was no power. So, I’d automatically head for the computer, not thinking. Electricity was always just there, and it was hard to wrap my mind around times when it wasn’t.

  No, of course we couldn’t just start a loud chainsaw in the griffin-infested forest. The world had changed. Now there were now hungry predators everywhere.

  Lilly, Dylan, and I stared at one another, feeling like idiots.

  Terry ran his hand back through his hair and let out a long sigh. “It’s dark enough by now the griffins are asleep. Dylan, go get the Hummer and drive it up here. You know how to hitch the boat?"

  "Yeah."

  With a last look at me, Dylan left.

  Terry followed behind him. Merlot trailed after, holding the baby close.

  “Too bad,” Lilly said, still looking out the window and tapping in thought on the windowsill. Her delicate face twisted in a frown. “I really think that could have worked.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  - Dylan -

  You know what’s really freaky? Driving backward down a steep boat ramp, boat attached, into an inky black lake in the dead of night. No flashlights allowed, headlights off, and the bulbs for the brake lights removed (That last part had been Terry’s idea).

  I did it, in halting starts and stops that made Lilly laugh and Terry get frustrated as he guided me backwards. But I did it.

  Once the boat trailer was submerged into the water, I tried to set the emergency brake only to realize it had been on the entire time. I wasn’t going to tell a soul.

  Still exhilarated, I hopped out of the car. Clarissa stood at the top of the ramp with a box of supplies. She and Ben had been getting ready to pack the boat.

  “I’ll take it,” I said, reaching for the box.

  Smiling, she handed it over. “I notice Terry wasn’t exactly offering to back that Hummer down, she said in an undertone.

  “Yeah, well he’s got more experience launching boats from the outside. His dad lives on the coast.” For a half-breath of time, I smelled sea-salt. The beach. The cave...

  I pushed it away.

  Clarissa shook her head and rolled her eyes, but not in the mean way Lilly did. She grabbed some cans out of her brother’s overloaded arms. “You’re too sweet for your own good, Dylan.”

  I shrugged. I knew what she meant, but that’s just how Terry was.

  “C’mon, let’s get this in the boat.”

  As we loaded the supplies, Terry got the Hummer completely unhitched. The boat was still on a trailer, halfway submerged. It would only take a shove to get it fully in the water. Terry said he hadn't wanted it floating free just in case the wind came up, or the bobbing boat attracted the griffins.

  We didn’t know for sure what would catch the griffin’s attention, or how deeply they slept at night. We’d been stomping around outside for over an hour, and hadn’t been attacked. Working with no lights was a pain, but a really good idea.

  The boat was a small fishing vessel, bought a few years ago, and had been out on the lake maybe twice. My father didn’t fish, but all the other neighbors had boats. So we did, too. It didn’t even have a name, which was supposed to be bad luck.

  Terry looked excited. Jumping on the deck, he made a show of looking around and scuffing his foot as
if to check for holes or something. “There’s lots of dust, but it should be sea-worthy. Lake-worthy, I guess,” he added, with a grin to Clarissa.

  “It’s pretty small.” Trust Ben to point out the obvious.

  “It’ll be fine.” Terry pointed to a space at the back of the deck. “Stow the supplies there. Lilly and Marlot will be back with fresh water soon. Dylan, see if you can start up her engine.”

  I nodded and had to duck to pass through the cabin’s doorway.

  The cabin was tiny with all the space taken up by driving controls and fish-finding radar. Three people would be squeezed tight in there. Four might be possible, if a couple people stood on the dash or something.

  Looking around, I got a sinking feeling. If the griffins attacked while we were out on the lake, someone was going to get locked outside.

  “This isn’t going to work,” I muttered.

  Maybe I could break into a neighbor’s boathouse and see what kind of boat they had. There was a small marina a couple miles away. We should—

  A mechanical chug-chug sounded in the air. I stuck my head out of the cabin. Had someone else started the Hummer? No, I still had the keys in my pocket. After what happened at the gate, I always made sure I knew where the keys were.

  Only a few days since the world had turned, and I had already gotten used to not hearing engines or electronics.

  It was the brake lights flashing red in the smoky gloom that clued me in. Someone had started up a second car. The red glow of the brake lights lit a boxy design along the road, heading away from us.

  It was the Jeep that was parked inside my father's garage.

  I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. "What’s that?" Clarissa demanded.

  "Is that the Jeep?" Terry said, outraged.

  A soft wind hushed through the trees and caught my attention even above all the other noise.

  Merlot, the wind seemed to say.

  I twisted around, uncertain of what I just heard. No, what I just... felt?

  The pine and Aspen trees dotting the beach were still in the smoky air. I’d been mistaken. There hadn’t been wind at all.

  As I stared, Lilly ran full pelt onto the beach.

  “Merlot’s running away! She took the baby, too!” she said, chilling me to the core. “She grabbed the keys when I was filling water bottles.”

  “Crap. I knew she’d been a little too quiet tonight.” Standing on tip-toe, Terry stared after the Jeep. We all did.

  The Jeep turned on the road. It's headlights were off, thank goodness, but every time Merlot tapped the brakes the dark forest flooded with a reddish light. Exactly like a beacon.

  From not too far away, I heard a griffin’s warbling cry.

  "They see the brake lights," I said.

  Clarissa and I exchanged anguished looks. Merlot would not get far.

  “What do we do?" Clarissa asked.

  I’d left the gate open when I’d retrieved the Hummer. The Jeep was already turning down the road and heading away from us. Without using headlights to see, Merlot hit the brakes a lot. It was like she was flashing a big, “Eat Me” sign through the forest.

  Lilly scoffed. “She wants to go back to Carson City. Let her.”

  Terry stayed silent, which meant he probably agreed.

  “She won’t get that far,” I said. Another waking griffin cry sounded through the air. It probably wasn’t a good idea to be out here. I jumped from the rear of the boat and splashed into ankle-deep water. A quick glance showed the Hummer was fully unhitched from the trailer.

  “She’s just scared and homesick,” Clarissa said to Terry. “I don’t think she understands about the brake lights. You can’t see them from the front.”

  “So? Look, no one wants to say it, but the food will last longer without her,” Lilly said as I walked by. “And the baby’s running out of diapers.”

  Opening the driver’s side door, I climbed in.

  Finally, Terry noticed me. “Dylan, what are you doing?”

  “I’m going after her,” I said, and started the car. “The griffins are waking up. You guys should get back inside the house, just in case.”

  "Dylan, wait!" Clarissa started. But there wasn’t time, and I had never been very good at arguments. If I stayed to listen, someone would talk me out of this.

  The Hummer chugged to life, and I pressed the gas and took off after Merlot.

  ****

  The yellow Hummer had a bad shimmy that only got worse as I picked up speed. Hopefully, it wouldn't take long to catch up to Merlot.

  If Merlot was going to Carson City, she would turn left onto Highway 50. Normally, if the roads were clear, that would take her down the mountain. Now, between the fire and the griffins, I doubted she’d make it a mile.

  I toggled the button by the door to crack open the windows. Sure enough, I shrill cries sounded in the trees ahead of me. The didn’t seem interested in my truck. Not with the lights knocked out. They were on the hunt for Merlot.

  Grimly, I pressed my foot harder on the gas pedal.

  It was hard to see far ahead. Small branches, pine needles, and leaf-fall littered the asphalt. In only a few days without other cars and workers to keep the roads tidy, it had grown thick enough to obscure the yellow line down the middle.

  At first, I thought drifting snow was dotting the windshield, too. But when I figured out how to turn on the windshield wipers, and the snowflakes smeared, I realized it was ash from the wildfire.

  I took a bend and nearly slammed on my brakes as a large, dark shadow swooped ahead of my truck.

  Barely visible through the smoke, the griffin cried out once, flapped its wings, and lifted back into the air. It wasn’t after me. I had no lights on, and it was like it couldn’t see my truck at all. It was chasing something ahead of me.

  The road winded again and I came around another corner. There was the Jeep.

  Two stopped cars with their hoods crunched together had blocked the two-lane highway. Merlot had stopped the Jeep dead-center, probably pausing to try to figure out a way around. She must have had her foot resting on the brake pedal because the lights blared like a lighthouse in the dark.

  Griffins swooped at her out of the trees. Their high, excited hunting cries attracted others. It had been a few days since the adults turned. Food must be more and more scarce. They were hungry.

  One griffin-like shape landed on the Jeep. It made of cloth on the top, and I was surprised the griffin didn’t fall in.

  “No!” I yelled, feeling helpless. Another griffin landed beside the first, clawing frantically at the back of the truck, right next to the brake lights.

  Grimly, I pressed down on the gas. The steering wheel shook under my fingertips.

  No time to think about if what I was going to do was smart or not. I had the feeling it wasn't. The two bright red brake lights glared through the darkness like a set of eyes. I had to put them out.

  I pressed down harder on the gas and braced myself.

  The Hummer ran straight into the back of the Jeep, plowing it forward and into the other two stopped cars. There was the crunch of metal and plastic breaking. The brake lights went dead. I thought I heard the baby scream, but she was drowned out by the shrilling griffins.

  They had more or less ignored me in the dark, but no more. Even before our cars had stopped rolling forward, there was a thump as one of the griffins landed on top of my car.

  Unbuckling my seatbelt, I threw myself into the footwell of the passenger seat. Hungry, enraged griffins screamed, and I heard twisting metal as taloned claws dug for me. Glass shattered.

  I covered my head and ducked as far down as I could.

  I'm not here. You can't see me. There's nothing here, I thought harder than I’d thought anything in my life. Half a prayer and half a command. You can’t see me.

  I don't know what gave me that idea. Or why I thought it would work. Only that, even as terrified as I was, expecting to feel a stabbing beak any second, a sharp headache flashed thro
ugh my head. Like I'd been staring at small text for too long and had strained my eyes.

  The Hummer rocked as feathered bodies crawled all over it.

  The shrieking grew to a higher, outraged, pitch. More voices joined in, and the Hummer rocked again. I didn’t dare look, but thought the griffins might be fighting one another.

  The windshield shattered in. Tiny squares of safety-glass rained down on me. Still, gritting my teeth against the headache and a weird, building pressure, I kept up my train of thought. It was literally all I had left.

  I'm not here. There's no one to eat in these cars. You can’t see us.

  Eventually—I don't know how long it took—but eventually the cars stopped rocking.

  I could still hear faint griffin cries, but they were further away.

  Opening my eyes, I looked out. Through the hole where the windshield used to be, I could see stars.

  The smoke must be dissipating, I thought. Holy crap. I’m still alive.

  I waited a few more minutes, my head throbbing. There weren’t any more sounds close by.

  Then, “Hello?" It was Merlot's voice, shaking, but alive.

  I pushed my way out of the footwell. The muscles in my legs weren’t happy with me sitting folded, and it felt like someone was driving an ice pick through the back of my head.

  The Hummer was trashed. All the windows were broken, except for one in the back. The top and hood was caved in like someone had taken a wrecking ball to it. Several feathers, each as long as my forearm, were scattered around the road. My guess was that when the griffins hadn’t found anything to eat, they’d turned on one another.

  Merlot stood by the side of the road, Jane clutched close to her chest. They were both okay.

  “Oh, Dylan! Thank goodness!" she said, seeing me. Then, at once she became frantic. “Why did you run into the back of my car?! I was right here, didn't you see me? And those griffins! They... they almost... I don’t know why they didn’t—”

  “It was your brake lights,” I told her, exhausted. “You know light attracts griffins.”

  “Oh!” She had the grace to look sheepish. Her bottom lip trembled. “And... and you came after me? You saved my life.”