Wild Fire

by Linda I. Shands

  “Whoa. That’s gonna be some storm. I moved Dakota to an outside stall. The barn’s not all that stable.” He stripped off his work gloves and tossed his hat onto the rack by the door. “I was going to put Lily out there too, but I see Anne’s not back.”

  Lightning flashed. The lights stayed on. Kara said a silent prayer of thanks for the generator. But she was worried about Anne. “She should have been back by now.”

  She flinched as another peal of thunder rocked the lodge. A gale-driven rain began pounding the deck, turning the huge windows into sheets of streaming water.

  Colin had to yell to make himself heard. “Anne’s smart. She probably saw the storm coming and took cover.”

  Kara nodded, but she felt uneasy. I just hope he’s right.

  She found a can of tuna, grabbed the mayonnaise from the fridge, and mixed the filling for sandwiches. Her stomach felt too jumpy to eat, but Colin and Ryan gobbled down two apiece. Ryan had just headed for his room when she noticed the quiet.

  “Storm’s over.” Colin looked at his watch. “We’ll give Anne another half hour. If she’s not back by then, I’ll go look for her.”

  Kara shivered. In just the last few days she’d begun to realize how much Anne meant to her. The cook had shown her nothing but kindness—even when she acted like a jerk. What if something had happened to her? What if she had been hit by lightning? Or maybe Lily had spooked and thrown her.

  But Lily never spooked. At least not from thunder. Besides, if Lily were loose, she would have headed home. Her thoughts spun like a child’s windup toy. An intense ache began to spread up the back of her head.

  “Colin?”

  “I know.” He was standing right behind her. His fingers began to knead her shoulders, and she felt the muscles start to relax. “I’m worried too. But let’s give her some time, okay?”

  The front door slammed again. She jumped up and followed Colin into the dining room. But it was only Ryan standing outside on the deck.

  “Hey, wow, you guys gotta see this.”

  The entire yard was strewn with pine branches and shreds of bark. Two trees had come crashing down inches from the lodge. Dad had always been careful to keep thirty feet of clearing between the buildings and the woods. It was supposed to be for fire safety, but now Kara realized there was more than one reason for the rule. Those two trees could have easily taken out the roof.

  She switched her gaze toward the barn and gasped. One whole side had caved in, leaving a huge pile of wood slats and tree branches where the stalls should have been.

  “Oh, Colin. Thank God you kept Dakota outside.”

  Colin jumped off the deck and sprinted toward the corral. “Keep Ryan here,” he yelled over his shoulder. “It might not be safe.”

  But she couldn’t just stand there. What if Lily had come home? What if Anne had headed for the barn and gotten trapped? She started to order Ryan to stay, but she knew that would never happen. “Come on, Ry. But stay away from the barn. I mean it.”

  Breathless, she caught up with Colin just as he was leading Dakota from one of the outside stalls. They had been built against the back of the plane hangar so the string horses could have shelter from the sun or rain. Most were open in the front, like an up-ended cardboard box. But two had been built with doors for isolating animals. They were new, solid, and safe.

  “Not a scratch. He’s antsy, but not hurt.”

  Kara sighed in relief. “Should we check the barn?”

  Colin threw a saddle blanket over Dakota’s back. “Not now. I’m going after Anne.”

  She could hear the anxiety in his voice and followed his gaze. A plume of thick, white smoke was rising from behind the mountains to the north. Forest fire. She watched, mesmerized, as the sky took on a reddish glow, then darkened as the smoke began to spread.

  “It’s miles away.” Colin’s voice jerked her out of her daze. He held Dakota’s reins in one hand and slipped his other arm around her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze. “I’ll find her, Wakara.” He vaulted into the saddle. “Get on the radio. Get Mark or your dad back in here. We might need the plane.”

  Dakota danced sideways. Colin spun him around to face her. “If that fire gets any closer and I’m not back, you’re out of here. Got it?”

  “No way. I won’t leave you . . . Colin!” But he had pushed Dakota to a full gallop. In seconds they were out of sight.

  She felt Ryan’s hand slip into hers. “Kara? Is the fire gonna come here?” His forehead was creased with worry as he stared wide-eyed at the rapidly darkening sky.

  She ruffled his hair. With an effort she kept her voice light. “I don’t think so. Colin will find Anne, then Dad will come and take us home.” Even as she said it, she remembered the broken radio mike and felt the first wild rush of fear.

  After an hour she gave up trying to fix the radio. She picked up the binoculars and scanned the mountains one more time. Smoke had spread like a huge, dark quilt across the sky. In the far north, the reddish glow leaped into great orange flames, devouring the landscape like a giant tongue, lapping up everything ahead of it.

  Colin and Anne were nowhere in sight.

  Ryan pressed his nose against the window. “It’s getting closer, isn’t it?”

  She didn’t try to lie. “Yes.” She took a deep breath. They couldn’t just sit here and wait. The flames were heading southeast along Cedar Butte. If the fire jumped the ridge, it’d be headed right for Otter Lake.

  “Get your pack, Ryan, and your canteen. Extra socks and shoes, okay? And your jacket too.”

  “But it’s hot.”

  “This is no time to argue. Just do it, Ry. Please.”

  He bolted for his room.

  She stuffed her compass, extra clothes, her jacket, binoculars, and a small first aid kit into her pack, then filled both canteens and two plastic bottles with water. Ryan stood still while she shoved two apples and a couple packs of raisins into his backpack.

  “All set?” She tried to stay calm, but her hands were shaking and her throat felt like sandpaper.

  “I’m scared.”

  She turned him around and pulled him in for a hug. “So am I, Kiddo. That’s why we have to get out of here. We’ll find the others and go out through Pine Creek.”

  If the fire hadn’t already spread that far.

  ASHES DRIFTED LIKE SOOTY snowflakes from the sky. A great plume of smoke spread across the valley, causing Kara’s breath to come in gasps as she jogged down the hill. Suddenly, she slowed down, realizing that Ryan probably couldn’t keep up. Forcing herself to a fast walk, she turned her head and saw him trotting just behind her. So far, so good.

  At the bottom of the hill, she picked up the pace again. Past the empty corral, past the ruined barn. What if Lily and Dakota had been in there? She didn’t even want to think about that.

  She turned right at the empty hangar where Dad’s plane had been parked just a few hours ago. Would he come back to get them? What if he did, and they weren’t there? She should have left a note, but she had been in too much of a hurry. He would understand. Anne, or even Colin, might be injured.

  She paused at the edge of the runway. The stiff, brown grass was pocked by small round holes. Prairie dogs. Colin called them whistle pigs. On a normal day there would be hundreds of them perched at the entrance to their dens, barking their shrill warning. But today there wasn’t any sign of the small, querulous creatures.

  Come to think of it, they weren’t out this morning either when she had come to see Dad off. They were hiding in their dens. They must have known.

  Dad should have known. He shouldn’t have left us.

  She knew that wasn’t fair. If he had thought there was any danger, he wouldn’t have gone.

  “My bag!”

  She spun around. “Ryan? Wait!”

  But he was already running back toward the lodge. “I forgot my survival kit. We might need it.”

  “Ryan, no!” But either he didn’t hear her or was deliberately ignoring
her screams. She started after him, then stopped. Better to save her energy. He’d be back before she could get up the hill.

  A steady rumbling, like thunder, interrupted her thoughts. The ground began to shake. Now what? She grabbed hold of the fence post to keep her balance. Elk! A herd of at least a hundred of them stampeded toward the river. Moving at breakneck speed, they kicked up rocks and mowed down small trees like matchsticks.

  If she and Ryan had been on the runway they’d have been trampled. She watched the herd disappear around the curve of the river, then swung her head around to see where they had come from.

  Bald Mountain. The dust from the panicked animals, added to the smoke, made her eyes water even more. But she didn’t need the binoculars to see the yellow-orange flames leaping from one tree to the next on the highest ridge.

  Ten miles away. Fifteen tops. What would happen when the fire reached the river? There wasn’t enough water. Nothing would stop it.

  She felt a rush of panic. Where was that kid? Then she saw him running down the hill. “Come on, Ryan!” she shouted over the lump in her throat. “We need to move.” Fire burned more slowly downhill, she consoled herself. They had time. They had to have time.

  A thin layer of ashes made the ground slippery. Ryan slid the last few feet into her leg and nearly knocked her off her feet. “Whew. I got it. It was right on the table—Wow! Look at that!”

  The awe in his voice turned to fear. “It’s coming this way.”

  Not if they went downstream. But by going toward Otter Lake they were headed right toward the fire. Still she had to find Colin and Anne. They didn’t have much time. How could she get Ryan to understand without scaring him to death?

  She forced herself to stay calm. It wouldn’t help to yell at him. Yelling would just make him angry, then he wouldn’t listen at all. She took hold of his shoulders and turned him to face her. “Ry, look at me.”

  To her surprise, he obeyed. His eyes were wide, his lower lip quivering. “Ryan, you have to stay with me from now on, okay? It’s important. You have to listen and do what I say.”

  He nodded and took hold of her hand. “Are we going to find Anne now?”

  “We’re going to try.”

  She found the faint line of bare dirt where the horses had crossed the meadow. The fire was moving parallel to them, southeast along the ridge. Had it already jumped the gorge to their side? She couldn’t tell.

  She ducked her head. The wind was driving the heat and smoke right at them. Her face was beginning to burn. She moved quickly, careful to keep herself between Ryan and the worst of it. The air was thick with the scorched-earth smell of burning brush.

  A blizzard of ashes mixed with bark and pine needles rained from the sky. Ryan stumbled, then stopped and rubbed at his eyes. “My eyes hurt, Kara, and I can’t breathe. I want to go back.”

  Her own eyes were watering so much she could hardly see. She had to fight the urge to turn and run the other way. What if they didn’t find Anne and Colin? Once they made Otter Lake, there would be no more choices. The only way out was the steep, switchback trail to Pine Creek.

  “Here, grab on to my backpack. We’re almost to the trail.”

  Three mule deer, a buck and two does, rushed past heading west, away from the flames. Ryan’s feet dragged. Kara urged him on. “Look, Ry. There’s the path.” She steered him to the right and turned away from the fire. The heat was to her back now, so she pushed him in front of her. “A few more feet and we’ll stop to rest.”

  Pop. Crash. The sky exploded into a ball of light. She pushed Ryan to the ground and fell across him, covering her head. For a heartbeat it was quiet. Nothing moved. She raised her head and saw flames licking hungrily at the brittle needles of a fallen fir tree.

  A hot wind blew across her cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hands to her ears. That sound. That horrible, screeching, roaring sound. Like a freight train hurtling through the trees.

  It was the same as in her dream. Mom was calling her. Wakara, run. The voice seemed to be coming from the flames. Knock it off. The voice isn’t real. She tried to take a deep breath, but her lungs felt like they were going to explode.

  Pinpricks of fire seared her bare arms and brought her up on her knees. She could smell burning cloth and hair. They were on fire! She knocked one large ember off Ryan’s collar and brushed wildly at her hair.

  Ryan coughed and sat up, his breath making whooshing sounds next to her ear. She grabbed his backpack, hauled him up, and ran, half dragging him back down the trail, toward the lodge. Kara hated to give up their search for Colin and Anne already, but she knew they could never make it to Otter Lake in this heat and smoke. She realized they were in serious danger even heading away from the fire now. Now, they had to make it to the river.

  When they reached the meadow, she picked Ryan up and began to run blindly. Her lungs burned. She forced her legs to move faster. Then her foot caught the edge of a hole. She stumbled forward, lost her grip on Ryan, and hit the ground.

  She lay still, trying not to cry, trying even harder to catch her breath. Stupid prairie dogs! Ryan had rolled away from her. She could hear him coughing a few feet away. She tried to call out to him, but her tongue felt thick, as if it was glued to the roof of her mouth.

  They weren’t going to make it. She felt a fresh rush of fear. Oh, God, if You don’t help us we’re going to die.

  Was this how Mom had felt when she was trapped in the flames? No. Mom had been unconscious. She couldn’t have known. Kara felt a quiet settle over her. She could almost feel her mother’s cool hands brushing the heat from her face.

  She cupped her hands and put them over her mouth, filtering the smoky air. When her heartbeat slowed, she moved each arm and then her legs. Everything worked.

  She rolled to her knees. The fall had torn holes in her jeans. Her hands and both knees were bleeding. She pushed to her feet, brushing at the dirt and pebbles imbedded like a thousand needles in her skin.

  Ryan was crawling toward her, a dull, faraway look in his eyes.

  No. Not now. He couldn’t lose it now. There was no way she could carry him any farther.

  “Ry.” She lifted him to his feet. “It’s okay, Ryan. It’s going to be okay.” She winced as his arms clamped around her waist. He clung to her like a lifeline.

  She held him a second longer, then gently pried him away. “Do you hurt anywhere?” He held out his hands. They were scraped like hers, and a small cut decorated his forehead above one eye.

  She realized the heat had lessened, yet the smoke was just as thick. “We have to follow the river now. It’s our only way out. Can you be brave and help me?”

  He nodded, and she felt a stab of hope. “God will take care of us.”

  Somehow, saying the words out loud, she knew it was true.

  THE MINAM RIVER WAS CLOSER than she had thought. But the raging white water that had rushed and whirled across the rocks last spring had shrunk to a narrow, shallow stream.

  Black cinders popped and hissed in the water, but still it felt like heaven. She lay down flat in it and told Ryan to do the same. “Soak yourself. But don’t drink it. Here.” She pulled the canteen from the side of her pack and handed it to him. “Not too much, it might have to last awhile.”

  She swallowed a mouthful of water, then untied Ryan’s bandanna from around his neck and soaked it in the river. “Here, tie this around your nose and mouth.”

  His eyes lit up. “Like a bandit.”

  She laughed, then choked and swallowed against the burning in her throat. They needed to move. But the water felt so good.

  “Kara?” Ryan was holding something out to her.

  “What’s this?”

  “Buerscosh.” He already had his tongue wrapped around a piece of hard candy.

  “Butterscotch? Thanks!” The moist candy tasted like honey and soothed her burning throat. “What else have you got in there?”

  But he had already tightened the drawstring on his “surviv
al kit” and refused to open it.

  Six loud pops like firecrackers sent her scrambling to her feet as a fresh deluge of cinders fell around them into the water. She turned and watched in horror as a great orange wall of flame shot into the air at a curve upriver and began to leap from tree to tree. “Oh, no! A crown fire!” It was still moving the other way, but the wind could blow burning leaves and branches for miles. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She started to run, but the acrid, black smoke seared her lungs. She dropped to the water. “Hands and knees, Ry. You can breathe easier close to the ground.” She bit her lip to keep from crying out as rocks and pebbles cut into her already stinging skin.

  She crawled fast, pushing Ryan along in front of her, but he moved clumsily. She felt the familiar chest-squeezing fear. This time the nightmare was real.

  The riverbed dropped and curved. She surged forward. “Faster, Ryan, come on, we have to move.”

  “I can’t!” His voice caught on a sob.

  He was exhausted. So was she. And so thirsty she could drink the river dry.

  Ryan slipped and fell flat. She let herself drop beside him into the shallow water and willed herself not to panic. The banks now sloped a good five feet above them. Down here the air was not as thick. It would be easier to walk instead of crawl, and they would still be able to breathe.

  Clouds of smoke hovered to the north and east. Bursts of flame shot sparks into the sky like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

  Her hands were numb. She used her teeth to open the canteen and handed it to Ryan. “Drink.”

  He chugged down half the container before she grabbed it away. A tingling pain rushed up her arms as she guzzled the rest. Her throat still burned. They had two bottles and the other canteen.

  It would have to be enough.

  “Yuck!” Ryan gagged as a dead trout floated by, belly-up. Another followed, then another. She pulled him to his feet.

  Ignoring the cramps in her legs, she picked her way toward the bank. “It’s not as slippery over here. We can move faster.” Off to the right, she could still see the trail they had ridden the day of Ryan’s accident, but it soon disappeared as the riverbed twisted downward.