The Gathering

THIRTY-SIX

THE SMOKE GOT WORSE with every step. Tears streamed from my eyes. Smoke seared my lungs and each breath burned.

Was I heading in the right direction? My gut told me home was this way, but I’d gotten off course. Between the smoke and the ash, I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front—

I stumbled onto the road, nearly pitching face-first when the ground dipped. I stopped and bent, getting my head as close to the ground as I could, breathing in the better air down there.

“Maya!”

With the distant roar and crackle of the fire, I couldn’t tell if that was Daniel or Rafe. I turned, still bent, hands on my thighs as I blinked to see through the smoke. All I could make out was a figure walking toward me.

At the last second, I saw the dark blue jumpsuit and wheeled toward the forest. Then I noticed the rifle pointed right at me.

I stopped in mid-twist. I gasped for air as my brain spun, trying to find a way out of this, but knowing I couldn’t. He was less than ten feet away and that gun was aimed right at my chest.

“Please,” I said, lifting my hands. “You’re the police, right? You can get me back to town?”

A lame plan, but if he didn’t want to kill me, this was a way out—he would pretend to be the cops and get me back to Salmon Creek.

He stopped walking.

“Our truck broke down,” I said, words rushing out. “We saw the fire. Can you help me?”

He lowered the rifle. Yes, oh please, yes!

“Maya,” he said.

No! Pretend you don’t know me. Pretend you’re just a cop. Please!

I glanced across the road, then at the gun. How fast could I get to the woods? Faster than he could aim and fire?

“It’s okay, Maya,” he said. “Everything’s okay.”

He pulled off his air mask and smiled at me, and I stood there, frozen. He was about my dad’s age. Brush-cut black hair. Tall and lean. He was Native, but that wasn’t what had me staring. It was his face—the cheekbones and the reddish brown eyes.

I’d seen those eyes and those cheekbones before.

I saw them every time I looked in a mirror.

Blood pounded in my ears. I could see him coming toward me, could see his lips moving, but couldn’t hear anything except that rush of blood. Then a beep and a crackle and he pulled a radio off his hip and lifted it to his mouth.

“I’ve got Maya,” he said, still smiling at me. “She’s fine. She’s going to come with me.”

I inched backward, trying not to look at the gun. When he saw me moving, his smile faltered. His lips pursed, like I’d insulted him.

“Come on, Maya,” he said. “We need to get you out of here.”

“No.” I stepped sideways toward the woods. “I can make it from here.”

“That fire’s coming in fast. Let me take you—”

I twisted to run. I heard him shout my name. Glanced back to see the gun rising. I tried to stop, skidding on the dirt. The gun fired.

“Nooo!” The shout came from behind us.

Daniel charged out of the smoke, his face flushed, even his eyes seeming to glow red. The man pointed the gun at me. Daniel shouted again, so loud it was like a sonic boom, more felt than heard. I staggered back. Then Daniel was there, grabbing my arm, pulling me, and the man was on the ground, struggling to get up.

We ran into the forest.

“Did you hit him?” I said.

“What?”

When I repeated the question, he just looked at me, confused. I thought he couldn’t hear me, but before I could say it wasn’t important, he said, “I guess so,” like he wasn’t sure himself and I thought of the other day, when he said he’d hit his dad, but couldn’t remember doing it.

It didn’t matter now. We kept running toward town. The crackle and bellow of the fire was so loud we couldn’t hear if anyone was following us. It was like racing through endless fog, praying you’re going in the right direction, knowing you are only when you can finally see the trees before you smack into them.

A shout behind us. An answering one. The crash of a vehicle mowing through the undergrowth. Then the whine of an ATV engine.

Daniel yanked me behind a huge Douglas fir.

The ATV engine died to a low idle. Then a woman’s voice sounded, harsh, like she was talking into a radio.

“It’s me,” she said. “They’re close by. Grab my coordinates and head over.”

Pause.

“Already? Who have they evacuated?”

Another pause. The woman swore. “Yeah, well remind him that forest fires are one thing he can’t control, even if they’re set by Aduros. He wanted chaos? He’s got it. He’d just better hope when the smoke clears, we have what we came for.”

She revved the engine. When I leaned out, trying to see it, I noticed a faint figure about thirty feet away, watching us. Before I could warn Daniel, the figure waved frantically, and I realized it was Rafe.

He pointed to show us where the ATV was. Daniel nodded and whispered, “About ten feet away in that direction.”

“Too close,” I whispered back.

“I know.”

Rafe motioned that there were two ATVs. I waved for him to take off—he was far enough to get away safely. He shook his head … and stepped out from his hiding spot.

“What the hell is he—?”

“Hey!” Rafe yelled, looking in the opposite direction. “Maya! Daniel! Where are you guys?”

He stopped and slowly turned, as if just noticing the ATV. Then he took off, barreling through the brush. The ATVs followed.

Daniel caught my arm before I could run after Rafe. “He gave us a chance to get away. It won’t do us any good to blow it. He’s heading toward the main road anyway. They’ll back off once he gets there.”

Those people had guns. Guns. But Daniel was right. With the fire closing in, we couldn’t play cat and mouse. We had to get to town.

So we ran through the forest, me in the lead, cutting the path, struggling to see, my eyes burning so much I could barely keep them open. The pain had moved into my skull now, a pounding headache. I’d pulled my shirt over my mouth, but it didn’t seem to help. When I coughed, I splattered my shirt with black.

Were we outrunning the fire? I was past noticing. The heat, the noise, the smoke, the falling ash—it was just there, all the time. Finally, I could hear the whoop of the town’s emergency alarm.

“Almost there,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Almost—”

I stopped and turned around.

“Keep going!” Daniel shouted, pushing me forward.

I ran toward the road, my feet moving, my brain refusing to wonder why.

“Go on!” I said when Daniel thundered after me.

“Like hell! What are you—?”

We reached the road. There, almost hidden in the long grass beside it, was a body.

“Rafe,” I whispered. “Oh God. Rafe.”

I ran over and dropped beside him. Daniel flipped Rafe onto his back and lowered his head to his chest.

“He’s breathing,” Daniel said. “But barely.”

As he pulled Rafe up, I ran around him, searching for blood, a bullet hole, anything.

“It’s smoke,” Daniel said. “Grab his other arm.”

I did and we carried Rafe, one arm over each of our shoulders. After a minute, I could see a house ahead. Then another. Headlights pierced the veil of smoke. They started to turn, then stopped, brakes squealing. The lights swung our way. I froze and looked around, ready to bolt. Then I saw the vehicle—a familiar SUV with familiar faces in the driver’s and passenger’s seat.