Point Dume
Page 17
“That’s okay. I’ll just be down in the driveway. Call me if something happens.”
Ellis watched Pablo climb back into his camper and close the door. She wasn’t feeling that great either and wondered about the air quality and the baby. Should she tie a bandana around her nose and mouth? She needed to buy a gas mask. And get one of those emergency kits. Everyone should have one of those things. Extra water. A seven-day supply of dehydrated food. It was just common sense. The baby kicked. She readjusted herself in the chair, trying to get comfortable, grabbed the binoculars, and sat back. It only took another fifteen minutes or so before the two fires came together and formed a blazing red/orange line in both directions for as far as the eye could see.
Ellis sat alone on her roof and watch through binoculars as Frank Bane’s house went up in flames along with the rest of the mountain range that she knew and loved.
WINTER
PABLO
THE FIRE BURNED FOR SEVEN DAYS. THERE WERE TWENTY-TWO fatalities, six of them firefighters. Over eight hundred homes were destroyed; countless animals were killed—both wild and domestic. You know where it started? One of the Pepe Le Pew sites up by Bulldog Ridge. Don’t ask me how those arson guys can trace the source of the biggest wildfire in California history to a faulty connection between a Mexican camp stove and a funky can of butane, but they did. I wasn’t surprised. Those Le Pew guys were always loaded, sloppy as hell.
Ellis’ house was fine but we had to drive north and stay out of the area for about a week because the air quality got so bad. We were worried about the baby. I went back out into the hills as soon as we got home to see what had happened to my Mexican captor. I don’t know what I was hoping to find, maybe evidence that he escaped. But he didn’t. There wasn’t much left, and I didn’t examine it too closely, but the guy was there, curled on the ground, burnt beyond recognition. And I’m gonna wonder for the rest of my life who he was and did his family ever find out what happened to him. He set me free. He didn’t have to. That little guy saved my life and I wish there was something I could have done for him.
There’s not going to be much marijuana activity in this area for a long time. The hills are scorched and naked now, no canopy to hide under. The cartels are going to have to find another place to do business, at least for the time being.
The rains started early this year and have been unusually heavy. They’ve wreaked havoc with the highway. Huge walls of mud and rock have covered the road in six different areas. The ocean has been this charcoal brown for weeks and it stinks of chemicals. It’s so polluted with the run-off from the burn areas that no one can even think about surfing. The shore break is thick with debris, the sand coated in this oily sheen; dead dolphins and sea lions have been washing up on the beaches. It’s a mess.
But there is good news. People are moving out in droves. Those that weren’t traumatized enough by the fire can’t seem to handle the reality of being cut off from the city. It’s a two-hour drive around the back to get into town. There are all kinds of inconveniences. No newspaper delivery. No fresh baked goods. Food deliveries to the markets come in on Mondays and Thursdays instead of daily. You can’t buy baby arugula, goat cheese or crème fraiche out here anymore. We’re down to basics and basics are not what you’re after if you’ve paid $15 million for your house. So yeah, they’re jumping ship and that makes Ellis and me very happy. I hear there’s another beach community south of the city that’s becoming very popular. It’s not quite as beautiful but much more accessible.
Ellis is going to have the baby any time. She found out it’s a girl and I’m telling you, it’s completely freaky when that baby moves around. You can see parts of her sliding across her momma’s huge belly. We haven’t exactly made a game plan. I’ve got my camper parked in the driveway, pretty much permanently. Sometimes I sleep in the house with Ellis, sometimes outside. She’s grumpy a lot but whenever I mention moving up the coast a ways, she insists that I stay. So I will. I’ll keep it parked right here for as long as she needs me and we’ll just take it as it comes.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THE DRUG CARTELS ARE GROWING MARIJUANA ON OUR public lands. Right this minute, there are millions of plants in grow-sites all around the country and especially in California. The chemicals they use are destroying wildlife, our national parks and designated wilderness. I’ve been into these grow-sites and have seen, first hand, the enormous environmental devastation. It is a problem that should not be ignored.
I had tremendous help in researching this novel. JD Swed was incredibly generous with his time and insight. The details he offered me were invaluable to this book. I could not have written the character of Felix, nor understood the complexity of the problem, without his help. Robert Heagy got the ball rolling, one foggy morning up Zuma canyon, and I am forever grateful to him. And Alexandra Picavet was a big support from the beginning. Thank you all.
Shane Krogen welcomed me on the Growsite Reclamation Team and allowed me to work out in the field. Robert Klusener and Warren Sargent offered great information and support. I actually got to go into the marijuana gardens, break down the infrastructure, and see first hand just how bad the problem really is. Guys, it was a real honor to join your team. Thank you for doing such good work.
I have an amazing team of emergency “Drop Everything And Read” (D.E.A.R.) readers. They literally stop their lives and give me their full attention whenever I ask. Stupendous Team Captain and CEO: JAMIE THOMPSON STERN. Team Players: Fred Anawalt, Beth Johnson, Morena Rodriguez, and Maya Sloan. No way could I have done this without you.
I was supported and inspired by Patricia Anawalt, Anna and David Anawalt, Richard “Yogi” Bair, Bill Bryan, John Burnham, Tyson Cornell, JOHN EVANS, John Carlos Frey, Nadia Ghaleb, Charles Glass, Alicia Gonzalez, Dave Hickey, Kirby Kotler, Ed Moses, Carolyn Pistilli, Lindsay Ribar, Maria Elizabeth Rodriguez, Laura Tate, David Unger and Cat Whiteford. Thank you all for your kindness, friendship and support.
Matt Bialer, my literary agent and friend, has been there, right from the beginning and I’m so lucky to have him.
Aaron Schlechter is a genius editor and I’m so grateful that he can show me exactly what it is I’m trying to say. I thank David Shoemaker for his brilliant design—again. I thank Jack Lamplough, Vida Engstand and everyone at The Overlook Press and I especially thank the supreme leader Peter Mayer whom I respect and adore.
Finally my husband Chuck, who has supported and encouraged me in all my very crazy endeavors, I thank him most of all.
1 (Source: http://www.usna.usda.gov/Gardens/invasives.html)