Proving Ground

by Stanalei Fletcher

  “Caitlin!”

  She willed her body to respond. For her mind to take control.

  I can’t move.

  “You must. It’s not your time, lass. Follow my voice.”

  Oh Mac, I’m so sorry.

  Chapter Seven

  Stars sparkled in the inky sky. Caitlin smiled, content, as the campfire popped and crackled its happy little language. Mac sat across from her, his face serene in the firelight. His presence was reassuring, as smoke wisped between them into the warm night.

  Mac’s teasing voice slipped past her self-imposed walls and curled like a warm ball of cotton in her belly. He spoke about the flame, and how it revealed the secret life of the wood. How long winters and sparse rainfall buried in tree’s annual rings escaped when it burned. She loved to listen to him, but more than that, she took comfort in being close to him once again. Just the two of them, out in the mountains—the way it used to be.

  A crack from the campfire startled her and sent sparks floating into the air. Something wasn’t right. The fire had only small twigs and shouldn’t have made that loud noise. Oblivious to the oddity, Mac continued to weave his story and didn’t notice when the breeze shifted and a billow of smoke engulfed him.

  Caitlin looked at the fire. It was too small. It shouldn’t make so much smoke. The breeze shifted again and the thick, gray smoke completely obscured Mac from view. Why didn’t he move?

  Then his voice stopped. He vanished. Alarmed, Caitlin rushed to where he’d been, but he was gone.

  “Mac!” She screamed his name.

  Startled awake by the sound of her own voice, Caitlin peered through unfamiliar darkness. Panic bubbled in her chest, rose to her throat, choking her. Where was Mac? Where was she? What happened?

  Then she smelled it.

  Smoke!

  It was real—not a dream.

  The acrid scent of burning wood filled her nose. With her next breath, smoke crowded into her lungs. She was unable to prevent a bone-jarring cough. Her head pounded painfully with each convulsing hack.

  If she felt pain, then she was still alive.

  Something crashed off to her right, followed by pounding vibrations that were too close for comfort. Caitlin lifted her head and squinted through the haze. Light from the flames reflected off the flanks of a fleeing deer.

  She was outside the cabin.

  The last thing she remembered was hitting her head on the wall. Somehow, she must have crawled out, but she couldn’t remember doing it.

  She grabbed the sides of her head to focus—to understand what happened. Another crash sounded through trees, interrupting her concentration. She’d have to wait to figure it out. Right now, she had more immediate concerns. Not only was she too close to the fire, she was in the path of fleeing wildlife. If she didn’t move, death was a certainty.

  She pushed to her hands and knees. The movement sent a sharp spasm of pain across her ribs. Miraculously, she still clutched the backpack in her hands. It scraped the ground as she scrambled across the forest floor. Ignoring the pain in her ribs, she swung the pack over her shoulders and hurried as fast as she could away from the fire.

  After running, stumbling, picking herself up and running again, she’d put some distance between her and the burning cabin. She glanced back and saw that flames completely engulfed the old hunter’s shed. Parts of the roof had already collapsed.

  The wind picked up, spreading embers to the lowest limbs of the pines surrounding the structure. In a matter of seconds, sparks erupted and flames leapt hungrily upward from branch to branch, creating a fiery candlestick twenty or thirty feet in the air.

  It took effort, but she managed to draw herself upright. Smoke stung her eyes, while tears streamed down her cheeks. She circled around the cabin toward the trail that led back to the campground and only got a few feet before a wall of flames blocked the path downhill. No other choice but to turn in the other direction.

  To the north was a ridge. If she could reach it before the fire reached her, she could look for shelter on the other side. But, it was also away from the campground and the only way out of Madeline Creek Canyon.

  Through smoke-filled air, she tried to determine how far the fire had spread. Were the bikers in danger? No. She wouldn’t think like that. Surely, they would’ve seen the smoke and called the forest rangers. They’d abandon the campground, but they’d be away from danger.

  All she could do now was keep safe, and that meant moving away from the fire. Heading uphill would be slow going, especially with her injuries. As long as the wind was in her face, then the fire was blowing in the opposite direction. She’d take that chance.

  She staggered toward the ridge, occasionally tripping over low-lying brush and climbing over rocks, instead of going around them. Sometimes, the forest floor was clear enough for her to break into a run, but just as she gained ground, another obstacle of rocks or brush slowed her down again. Twisting her way through the undergrowth didn’t help her aching ribs and pounding head, but she had to put a safe distance between her and the flames. Only then, could she attempt to find another way off the mountain. Her one hope was that Jack would notice she hadn’t returned from her hike and send a search party.

  Except she hadn’t told Jack which trail she’d taken. There were at least a half dozen trails leading from the campground and some of those forked off, providing several options for hikers. Dunn definitely wouldn’t tell anyone she was at the cabin—not after he’d started the fire and left her to die. There would be no search for her.

  At the thought of finding her own way out of the forest, cold prickled over her skin, in blatant contrast to the heat around her. She skidded to a halt, eyeing the woodland and surrounding brush. Could she do it? Could she get out of this predicament alone? She didn’t have a choice.

  Caitlin looked downhill. Without a doubt, Dunn and Smith’s distraction was a success. By leaving her to die in the blaze, they probably intended to cast blame on her for starting the fire. She was sure they expected the authorities to find her charred body at the source of the fire.

  That wouldn’t happen, thank goodness. Once the smoke and flames cleared, the authorities would start looking for suspects. They’d want to know why the fire started. A question Caitlin would like to know the answer to as well. But right now, survival took priority.

  The wind in her face was a good indicator she was headed away from the fire. The only question was for how long? Most fires tended to follow an incline. Large fires even created their own weather. At this time of year, especially in the mountains, the conditions could be unpredictable, too. If the winds were a precursor to a front moving into the region, then a storm could be brewing. And, if it came from the south, she was in trouble.

  A south wind would force the fire to change course toward her escape route. She glanced up through the trees and hoped a storm would drop in from the north—the same direction she was taking to get away from the cabin and the fire. Heading north also took her deeper into the wilderness. Even through the smoky haze, she could tell the sun had already set. She faced a long cold night in the dark forest, traipsing through heavy brush and steeper terrain.

  She needed to make as much headway as possible before night fell in earnest. After muscling through some particularly thick brush, Caitlin suddenly found herself in the middle of a small grove of pine trees where the forest floor was free from tangling branches. She stopped to rest and slipped the backpack off her shoulders. Through all that had happened, not losing her backpack was an uncanny sign of good fortune.

  No. That wasn’t quite true. Somehow, she had escaped the cabin before the fire started. A miracle itself. One she wasn’t ready to examine too closely. It seemed wrong to question her good luck at being alive. Maybe later, when she was off the mountain, she’d speculate on the voice that had urged her to safety.

  While she rested, she noticed the crackle and roar of the fire had given way to sounds of wind rushing through the pines. Her heart pounded in
her ears. She carried the scent of smoke on her clothes, and it combined with enough sweat and dirt to overwhelm the pleasant mountain aroma. She unzipped her backpack and plowed through its contents. The supplies for her hour-long hike weren’t enough for a survival run through rugged mountain terrain. She would simply have to make do. Fishing out one of her two bottles of water, she uncapped it and drank thirstily. She reluctantly capped the bottle with half the water gone and shoved it into the pack. Two sixteen-ounce bottles wouldn’t last if she had to remain on the mountain for days, so she’d need to drink sparingly.

  Next, she took out a bandana and used it to wipe dirt and sweat from her face before rolling it into a headband. It would keep sweat and hair from getting into her eyes. As she tightened the knot at the back of her neck, she felt tenderness on the side of her head. When she touched the spot, a tacky dampness came away on her fingers. Blood. She recalled how Dunn knocked her down, making her head strike something on the cabin wall. A board or a nail, maybe.

  A chill crawled down her spine. She really should be dead.

  Grandma Mac’s face shimmered in Caitlin’s mind like a vision, and a calm assurance washed over her. She had no doubt she was alive because Grandma Mac helped her escape. What would her dear confidante advise next?

  Get yourself rescued.

  Caitlin grinned to herself. The words came as clearly as if Grandma Mac had whispered them in her ear. Straight to the point. No doubt, that’s where Mac got his forthrightness, too.

  Mac. Caitlin closed her eyes, imagining him here beside her. Helping her to safety. She shook her head to clear the image, then regretted it when the headache started again. Mac wasn’t here. She was on her own. No one to protect her but herself.

  The momentary rest settled her breathing, but it also allowed her body to catch up on her injuries. Discomfort in her ribs made deep breaths impossible. Her head throbbed, and her throat ached from inhaling so much smoke. But, at the moment, there was nothing she could do to fix any of her injuries. Time to follow Grandma Mac’s advice.

  Caitlin pulled her cell phone out of the case strapped to her belt. The LCD screen glowed, but the service indicator showed no signal. She bit her lip. She might still be alive, but Lady Luck was making her earn every moment. To make a call, she’d need to climb higher or find a clearing.

  She contemplated the phone and her options. A GPS locator might be able to track the chip in her phone. If she left it on—and if someone realized she was stranded and started a search party. If she was stranded too long, there was a risk of the battery dying. Once she reached a place where she could get a signal, she’d need power to call for help. Jack could be searching for her, but no one knew for certain where she was. Those were all too many variables. She turned off the phone—for now.

  Water was her next concern. Even if she rationed her water, the bottle and a half would only last so long. She didn’t have any water purification tablets. If it came down to it, drinking stream water would be a last resort. She could survive intestinal illness. Dead was dead. Period.

  Food was another matter. She’d stocked energy bars for her stay at the campground. Except for the one she’d eaten as she started the hike, she hadn’t bothered to stuff any in her backpack, thinking she’d be back in camp in time for dinner. No point kicking herself for that oversight. She’d worry about hunger in the morning. Meanwhile, she could probably go twelve more hours without food as long as she had water.

  With her rest over, she slipped the backpack over her shoulders and winced at the pressure against the bruise on her side. She had put herself in this mess. It was up to her to find a way out.

  ****

  Mac arrived at the station just before eight p.m. and found Bob Henry, the Forest Station Ranger, leaning over a table covered with maps. Through the radio in the corner, Mac heard background chatter of the fire boss coordinating firefighters and hotshots. Bob straightened with a smile as Mac walked into the office.

  “Glad you were in town for this one, MacAlistair.” His voice boomed from the depths of his boots, matching his large six-foot six-inch frame. He shook Mac’s hand in a powerful grip.

  “Me, too.” Mac pointed toward the map. “Bring me up to speed, would you?”

  Bob moved around the table, allowing Mac to see the region he’d been studying.

  “From the information we’ve gathered, it looks like the fire is about here.” Bob pointed to a grid on the map. “Lookout Station Fifteen reported smoke in Madeline Creek Canyon. We got a plane up about thirty minutes later. The first reports have the fire starting near the summit.”

  “What are the conditions?”

  “You mean besides dry?”

  Mac frowned. He didn’t find the comment funny.

  “Sorry.” Bob cleared his throat and continued. “There’s a front moving in from the north. A storm is expected late tomorrow afternoon. It’s supposed to bring quite a bit of precipitation. But right now the high pressure sitting to our south is still too strong to let it through, and the winds are dropping in from the northwest.”

  “That’s forcing the fire down the canyon toward some of the outlying buildings.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Bob said.

  “Wait a minute.” Mac looked at the map again. “Madeline Creek is where that biker rally is.”

  “We sent volunteers up there about an hour ago and started evacuating the campgrounds,” Bob said. “Most of the help came from the extra agencies already on hand to manage the rally. They lined the entire canyon road to make sure there weren’t any stragglers.” He scratched at the shadowy whiskers across his ruddy cheek.

  Mac realized his jaw probably looked the same, and his beard would get a lot heavier before this incident was over. “Where are they putting the out-of-town bikers? That little clubhouse on the edge of town isn’t big enough to hold them all.”

  “I heard the local PD set up a temporary shelter at the high school. They’re welcome to spend the night there. But I expect come morning, they’ll be asked to move on.”

  Mac gave a wry smile and shook his head. “Can you imagine the scene over there?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “All those bikers bunked down in the gymnasium and law enforcement walking the halls to keep order. I’ll bet the tension is as thick as the smoke on the hill.”

  Bob grinned. “I hadn’t quite looked at it like that. I’m just glad there haven’t been reports of any problems from them.”

  “Except for the fire in the canyon. Any idea how it started?”

  Bob shook his head. “Gotta be man-made. Nearly all of ’em are, when the weather’s this clear.”

  “Do you think one of the bikers started it?” Mac frowned.

  “I’m not gonna speculate. I’ll let the authorities sort that out once we get it contained.” Bob rolled his head, making his neck pop. “Speaking of which, how long before your crew can be here?”

  “I called them on my way over to the station. They can be airborne in another thirty minutes.”

  “Good.” Bob nodded. “We’ve got a ground crew on the way up now. If your boys can hit the fire from the north, while we go at it from the south, maybe we can get it contained before nightfall tomorrow.”

  Mac’s cell phone rang, dragging his attention from Bob. “Hold on.” He unhooked it from his belt and looked at the display. His gut clenched when he saw the number from the local hospital where Sean was staying. At this hour, news from the hospital couldn’t be good. His jump crew required supervision, but he’d put his second-in-command in charge and go the hospital without questioning his decision if Sean needed him. “This is Mac.”

  “Mac. Thank God, I’ve reached you.” Sean Malone’s voice crackled through the receiver.

  Mac relaxed his grip on the phone. If Sean could make a call, he wasn’t dying. “I’m a little busy for a conversation, Sean. Can I get back to you?”

  “I know you’re busy,” Sean said. “I just got a call from Jack.”

 
; Mac bit back his annoyance that his uncle would disturb Sean at the hospital “He didn’t need to bother you about the fire.”

  “Apparently, he did. He doesn’t have your number.”

  “That’s because I didn’t give—”

  “Listen up, Mac,” Sean interrupted. “We don’t have much time. Caitlin wasn’t at the campground with Jack when the fire started.”

  Mac’s grip on the phone tightened and his mouth went dry. “What are you saying?”

  “Jack said she went for a hike and never returned.”

  Mac went cold. Heaven forbid she was still on that mountainside.

  “Mac?” Sean’s voice was tight with fear. “Are you there? Did you hear me, lad? Caitlin’s out in that fire.”

  “We don’t know that.” Mac tried to calm the older man. “I’m sure there was a lot of confusion trying to get everyone evacuated. She probably rode straight to the house.”

  “She rode up with Jack, but she didn’t ride down with him. He called me as soon as he could.”

  Scenarios raced through Mac’s mind. He wanted to conjure up a good explanation as to why Caitlin wasn’t with his uncle, but couldn’t.

  “You’ve got Jack’s number? I’ll follow up with him.” Mac grabbed a pen and scribbled the number as Sean rattled it off.

  “Find her, Mac.” Sean voice cracked through the receiver. “Find my daughter and bring her home.”

  Mac swallowed. Of course, he would find her. He wouldn’t stop looking until he did. “I’ll find her.” He closed the connection.

  “What’s wrong with you, Mac?” Bob sounded concerned. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Mac shook his head. “That was Sean Malone. He believes Caitlin’s still up in Madeline Creek Canyon.”

  “Little Cait? She’s back in town?”

  Mac nodded. “Yeah. Cait.” Only not so little anymore.

  “What is she doing on the mountain?”

  “She was at the biker rally. I need to call Jack.” He opened his phone and started to dial. As he punched the last number, he turned to Bob. “Can you get on the radio and alert the crews to be on the lookout for possible victims?”