365 Days Hunted

by Nancy Isaak

  “Seriously,” said Kieran, pulling at the bars of the gate, “how long do we have to wait?”

  “Just a few more minutes,” I said—although I was feeling just as impatient as he was. “We should probably give everyone a chance to get here.”

  * * * *

  Rhys showed up thirty seconds later. He was with the twins, Damien and Goran, and they were all dragging boogie boards behind them.

  “You found the key,” said Rhys.

  “Andrei and Ian found it. We’re about to open up the garage.”

  “Cool.” He motioned to the blond brothers standing beside him. “We’re heading out to Little Dume for a bit. The twins have been after me to take them down there for a couple of days now. You guys interested in coming?”

  I looked at him, dumbfounded, holding up the key and waggling it in front of his face. “Think I’ve got better things to do,” I boasted.

  “Whatever,” he said, looking a little hurt. “We’ll be back when we’re back, then.”

  As he stalked off, I turned back to the gate, studying the metal bars intently, wondering once again what amazing treasures the garage would reveal.

  Kieran, meanwhile, leaned over to whisper in my ears. “Those twins give me Children of the Corn-creeps,” he said, quietly. “I don’t know what it is, but something feels off with those two.”

  “Damien and Goran,” I murmured, not really paying attention. “They’re okay.”

  But—I was so wrong.

  * * * *

  The gate didn’t even squeal when we pushed on it. Well-oiled and maintained, it slid up smoothly, catching and holding at the top. That made me even more excited. If the prince had spent that much effort just on a locked gate, I could only imagine what he must have put behind it.

  “Ready guys?”

  Excited faces grinned all around me.

  “Okay,” I almost giggled. “Let’s go see our new cars!”

  * * * *

  A few minutes later, Wester and Ethan raced through the open space, from one end of the garage to the other—whooping first one way, then the other.

  The rest of us just stood there—staring.

  Because the garage was empty.

  As in—there was nothing in it.

  Nothing.

  * * * *

  “Well, this sucks,” murmured Kieran.

  “Why in the heck would they lock up an empty garage?” I asked, confounded. “It just doesn’t make any sense.”

  Porter and Connor were standing beside us. They both looked like they were trying not to laugh. Needless to say, I was highly irritated.

  “Lot of space,” mused Porter. “I wonder what it could be used for.”

  I gave him a dirty look.

  “Just wondering,” he grinned.

  “JACOB!!”

  We all turned, peering through the dark behind us, to where a shadow was hurtling its way through the opened gate.

  “JACOB!!”

  As it got closer, the shadow solidified into a terrified Xavier. He raced up, skidding to a stop in front of me.

  “Fire!” he gasped. “There’s a fire!”

  * * * *

  “Could it be a campfire?” I asked.

  We were standing on the top floor of the mansion, looking toward the Pacific Coast Highway. A thin line of inky smoke could just be seen drifting up toward the clouds.

  “It’s not very big,” said Kieran. “Maybe it is just a campfire.”

  “Looks like it’s coming from around Pavilions,” suggested Porter. “Don’t we have guys stationed over there?”

  “Yeah, we do,” I said, unhappy. “And they should have either sent a runner or rang the bell the moment that they saw smoke.”

  “Josh should be back soon,” said Kieran, looking down toward Dume Drive. “He’ll be able to tell us what’s going on.”

  When we had emerged from the disappointing basement—and on seeing the scant size of the smoke trail—I had assigned Josh to lead a team to investigate. Meanwhile, Connor and Frank were organizing other guys into firefighting brigades—just in case.

  “Didn’t mom used to say that black smoke means that the fire is starting and white smoke means it’s ending?” asked Kieran. “Because that smoke is definitely black.”

  “If we had an encyclopedia,” murmured Porter, “we could look it up. Books are good that way.”

  I turned and gave him a dirty look. “Not now, Porter.”

  He just grinned.

  * * * *

  Josh didn’t return from the fire. Instead, he sent Nate to give a report.

  “It’s not big, but Josh wants more guys to fight it,” Nate told us, wiping a dirty hand across his sweaty brow. “We’ve got the Santa Ana’s blowing right now. Josh is afraid that the fire could get out of hand if it gets really gusty.”

  “What about the guys we had stationed there?” I asked him. “How come they didn’t ring the bell?”

  Nate looked embarrassed. “They were sleeping. Still were when we arrived. And they smelled like booze.”

  That infuriated me. “Well, we’ll deal with them later, when we get the fire under control. Right now—where exactly is the fire?”

  “There are a couple of houses just to the left of the supermarket. The fire’s behind them, coming up the hill from the highway.”

  “The highway? Does it look like someone may have deliberately set it?”

  “We don’t know,” Nate shrugged. “It could have been a lightning strike, though. There were a couple last night. Maybe one of them hit a tree and the fire smoldered in it. Caught up when the Santa Ana’s started blowing a little while ago.”

  “That does make sense,” I conceded.

  The Santa Ana winds were notorious in Southern California. They were extremely dry, hot winds that came down to the coast from out of the deserts. When you combined them with fire, inevitably disaster followed.

  “How big is it right now?” I asked Nate.

  “About the size of a normal front yard,” he answered. “A Valley front yard. Not a Malibu front yard.”

  “Okay,” I said. “That’s not too bad. Frank is setting up teams. Let’s get them spaced out along Dume Drive, in case the winds drive it in our direction. And Porter—what’s our situation with fire extinguishers?”

  “We’ve got a lot of them,” he acknowledged. “But if the fire comes, they really won’t be of much use. They’re more for close in stuff—like fires in rooms, that sort of thing.”

  “Oh-oh,” said Kieran, suddenly.

  I immediately turned and looked back out of the window. Even from our distance I could see a flicker of flame working its way up the trunk of a very tall Washingtonian Palm tree.

  “Damn it,” I muttered. A gust of wind caught my hair, meanwhile, pushing my bangs across my forehead. The air was hot and dry, swirling around me—taunting.

  “And it just got worse,” Kieran murmured.

  * * * *

  My armed guards didn’t like it, but I felt that I had to see the fire up close, to get a clearer idea of what we were facing. Leaving Kieran, Porter, and Connor in charge of the compound, my guards and I rode bikes down Dume Drive, moving as fast as we could.

  At one point a pack of coyotes leapt over the road in front of us. They were heading south, their heads lowered, tails between their legs.

  “That’s not a good sign,” yelled Pauly, who was biking beside me.

  I shook my head, agreeing with him. “They’re scared.”

  The wind was starting to pick up, driving the smoke from the fire toward us. The closer we got to the actual flames, the harder it was becoming to breathe. We had brought painters’ masks with us and stopped momentarily to put them on.

  It helped—a little.

  * * * *

  As soon as we reached the Pavilions’ parking lot, we could tell that we were going to be in trouble. The fire had jumped the hill, leaping to the top of the Washingtonian Palm tree where it was now shooting out sparks that w
ere floating down on nearby houses.

  Seeing us, Frank came running over.

  He was already covered in soot and dirt. Although he was wearing a mask, he still seemed to be having difficulty breathing. “We’ve got to let it burn,” he coughed. “We can’t fight it here!”

  “What are you talking about?” I said, confused. “If we let it burn, it will head straight for the compound.”

  “Exactly,” he said. “That’s why we need to stop it farther down. Because we don’t have what we need to stop it here. It’s already jumping over our line.”

  “We’ve got more guys back at the compound. Will that help?”

  “It’s not guys that we need,” he said. “We need water to fight this fire and we just don’t have that.”

  “So, what are you suggesting?”

  There was a giant crack!

  We both looked up to see the top of the Washingtonian explode. Burning fronds and sparks flew out in all directions. I watched as one large piece fell onto another palm tree. Almost immediately, a flicker of flame began eating away at the trunk.

  “We need to build a fire break!” explained Frank, his voice loud over the increasing roar of the flames. “Farther down the road—where there’s that empty lot. If we can clear that, we’ll have a better chance of stopping it there than here.”

  “But if we do that, we’ll probably lose every house in between.”

  “Most likely,” he agreed.

  Not happy, I turned toward my guards. “Pauly,” I called out. “Get back to the compound. Tell Kieran that I want every able guy down at that empty lot with whatever they can use to dig. Frank will meet them there. And make sure Kieran knows that Frank will be in charge of the fire break.”

  “Aye-aye,” said Pauly, immediately turning and biking off.

  “Where’s Josh?” I asked Frank.

  He pointed toward the fire. I could just barely see Josh and his guys, desperately flinging shovels of dirt onto the encroaching flames.

  “Josh!” I yelled.

  A moment later, he came running over. His face was black with soot and his eyes were rimmed with red.

  “This wind is killing us!” he coughed, hacking up a gray-tinged loogie that he spit onto the ground.

  “Where’s your mask?” I asked.

  Porter had given each member of Josh’s team a painter’s mask before they had headed off to check on the fire. Josh was now missing his.

  “I gave it to one of the guys who was stationed here. He needed it more than me.”

  “One of the ones who was drinking and fell asleep on the job?” I growled.

  Josh nodded, looking down.

  I immediately pulled off my mask and handed it to him. “Take this,” I ordered. “You’re going to be in charge of the fight here. Don’t take any chances, but try and keep the fire down here as long as possible. Frank is going to cut a firebreak down at that empty lot on Dume Drive. That’s where we’re going to make our stand.”

  “Good idea,” said Josh. “The Santa Ana’s are going to be pushing it in that direction. If we can hold it off long enough, so that the fire hits the break right about the time the offshore breeze rises up, we’ll be able to turn the fire around on itself.”

  “And it will eat itself right up,” Frank nodded. “That’s the plan.”

  “How long until the offshore breeze?” I asked.

  “It’ll probably show up around ten or eleven,” said Frank.

  “Which means that you’ve got five, six hours that you’ve got to hold that fire off,” I calculated. “Do you think that you can do it?”

  “Might be a good idea to send some of guys through the houses in between here and the firebreak,” suggested Frank. “Get them to rip up any vegetation they can find, throw it over the cliff or dump dirt on top of it. If we’re lucky, we might even be able to create some secondary breaks along the way.”

  “Good idea.” I motioned to Nate who had been standing close by, listening. “I need you to go back to the compound. Get ten of the strongest guys you can find—anyone that Frank doesn’t need. You’ll be in charge of the brush clearance and secondary breaks. Do you understand what Frank wants you to do?”

  Nate nodded, then turned and raced off. I returned my attention to Frank. “Dude, it’s going to be a long night,” I said. “You up for this?”

  He grinned at me. “Up at the Fire Camp, they had these posters all along the walls. Pictures of these ladies in fire gear—fighting fires like the meanest of dudes. When they chained us up at night, I used to look at those ladies and think—if they can survive, then I sure as heck was going to.”

  “You got a crush on the bad girls, Frank?” I teased.

  “Fire-fighting milfs,” he grinned. “Who wouldn’t?”

  The second Washingtonian gave a solid crack!

  I clapped Frank on the shoulder. “I’m going to send Andrei and Ian over to you. Use them as runners. I’ll be moving between here, the compound, and your firebreak. Make sure you let us know what you need—guys, water, food. We need to get this fire down.”

  Frank nodded. “We’ll do our best. But you should probably get the wounded prepared to evacuate,” he suggested. “Just in case the firebreak doesn’t hold.”

  “Already thought about that, bro,” I nodded. “We’ll be meeting up on Zuma Beach if the worst happens. Down by the main lifeguard station. But let’s not let it get to that, okay.”

  JOURNAL ENTRY #33

  I’m about to go have breakfast with the guys, so this is going to be short. But I just wanted to write my thoughts down quickly—before I forget everything that happened last night.

  Man, I still can’t believe we fought a fire!

  And before I write anything else—my apologies for all the black marks on this paper. It’s ashes and soot from the fire and, needless to say, I haven’t had a chance to bathe, yet.

  Or sleep.

  Or eat.

  How weird is it—that I’m happier than I’ve been in a very long time?

  * * * *

  Without a doubt, the big hero of the night was Frank. Dude was a beast, swinging that shovel of his. I know that he had a team of guys with him, but I swear it was Frank who dug most of the firebreak that saved this Point.

  I mean, that guy never stopped moving!

  The fire hit his break probably around 9:30 p.m.—like banging up against a brick wall. There had to have been sixty or seventy of us, stamping out the sparks whenever they jumped over the break, but it was Frank who took on the big flames—the ones that really wanted to eat us up.

  With his shovel and with his feet!

  Then, just after 10:30 p.m., the Santa Ana’s finally died down. The fire didn’t stop burning, but at least it stayed in one place. And once the offshore breeze started up around 11:00 p.m., it blew what was left of the fire back toward the ground that had already been burned.

  And by midnight—it was out!

  * * * *

  We’ve still got guys there, of course, shoveling dirt over all the hot spots. And, Frank, Kieran, Josh, and I walked all the way from Pacific Coast Highway to the firebreak a good half dozen times. Took us all night, but we’re pretty sure that we’ve got any possible breakout points covered.

  Plus, we’ve still got teams all along Dume, ready to go if there’s a sudden flare-up.

  * * * *

  I’m so proud.

  All the guys really worked their butts off last night.

  The older ones shoveled dirt, ripped out bushes, or dug the breaks. And the younger ones served as our go-betweens. Even the little guys like Ethan and Wester did their part. They were the ones running back and forth, keeping everybody informed. And they brought us water and food and anything else that we needed.

  In the old world—I used to hate the last week of August. To me, it just meant that summer was over and we were back in school again. From now on, however, it will mean something different.

  August 31st—the day our tribe fought our firs
t true battle.

  And won.

  SEPTEMBER

  37, 38, 61

  We all met up for a victory breakfast the morning after the fire—tables full of dirty, ash-streaked guys, laughing and boasting of the daring deeds that they had accomplished during the night. Everybody had a tale and—even though we were exhausted—we all listened closely, waiting for our own chance to brag.

  A couple of the guys from Tapia had cooked breakfast for everybody. They were still somewhat weak and hadn’t been able to join in on the firefight the night before. Making us huge plates of pancakes with maple syrup had been their way of contributing.

  Needless to say, the food was well-received.

  “Dude!” said Kieran, spearing a big slab of pancake with his fork. “This breakfast rocks!”

  “Pancakes always taste better when you’ve earned them,” grunted Frank, cutting into his own stack.

  I noticed that Josh and Porter were talking quietly at one end of the table. They were leaning over a map of Point Dume, writing notations on it here and there. “Anything I need to know, guys?” I asked them, curious.

  “We’re making up a fire plan,” explained Porter. “So, that we’re better prepared for next time.”

  “Great idea. What are your thoughts so far?”

  “Well, we need to make some rope ladders,” said Josh. “Have them all along the cliff. Then, if we need to evacuate and we’re cut off, we can just throw the ladders over the edge and down we go.”

  I nodded, liking the idea. “Might be smart to also stow some boats at the bottom of the cliff,” I suggested. “Then, if we do need to go down and the fire’s got us surrounded, we can head out onto the water and wait it out.”