4:33 A.M.
THEY SET OFF AGAIN. Wyatt led the way, occasionally pulling the map and compass from his pockets. At first the trail was thin, just a faint scuffed line winding among the trees. Would they even have been able to keep to it in the dark?
“Where do you think Jason is?” Natalia asked Wyatt after they had been hiking for about forty-five minutes. They had seen no sign of him. It felt like they were alone in the world—just them, the trees, and the fire trying to catch up to them.
“Are you worried he’s going to do something to us?” Wyatt asked. He reached out and squeezed her hand. She still felt the tingle of his touch after his fingers fell away. “I’m guessing he’s probably just trying to hightail it out of here.”
The trail, wider now, ran parallel to a creek, bordered by pink, white, and yellow wildflowers. The sun hadn’t yet lifted above the trees, but it was already warm.
Natalia lifted her hair off her nape. “That breeze feels good.”
Wyatt’s mouth twisted. “I wish it were in our faces, blowing the fire away from us.”
“It’s great to be able to actually see again,” Darryl said from behind them. “And I’m sure Zion’s glad he no longer has to be my Seeing Eye dog.” Blue whined and then butted Darryl with his head. He pushed the dog’s nose away. “Sorry, boy, I shouldn’t have said dog. And I swear I don’t have any food.” He looked at the rest of them. “I mean, none of us do, but I’m the one he won’t leave alone.”
“Maybe he smells crumbs or something,” AJ said. “Don’t dogs have a really good sense of smell, like five hundred times better than a human’s?”
Darryl shrugged. “I did have a granola bar in my pocket yesterday. But dogs don’t like granola bars, do they?”
“Maybe if they get hungry enough they do. Sorry he’s bugging you so much.” Marco’s voice was hoarse from coughing. “And, Blue, I promise I’ll buy a steak when we get back to civilization.”
“Poor guy,” Susan said. “Poor doggy.” She knuckled the top of his head.
Zion appeared at Natalia’s side. “Here!” He thrust a fistful of wildflowers at her.
She was surprised. “Oh, are these for me?”
He nodded, not meeting her eyes. “For helping us.”
She took them. The stems were crushed, the heads drooping. “Why, thank you.”
Earlier, Wyatt had pointed out that Natalia hadn’t been much older than Zion when the fire happened. Now she did the math another way. Conner had died six years ago. If he had lived, he would have been about Zion’s age.
The trail turned to intersect with the creek. Wyatt checked his map. “This is where we cross.”
The creek was less than a dozen feet wide and looked about a foot deep. A log served as a makeshift bridge, albeit a rounded bridge coated in velvety green moss.
Wyatt said, “If you don’t think you can keep your balance up there, I would suggest just taking off your boots and wading across.”
Beatriz lifted her duct-taped foot. “It’s not like I can.”
“Then just be careful going across. I don’t think I have enough duct tape to build you a new pair.”
“I know the trick,” Susan said. “Look at the log. Not the water.”
Beatriz began to pick her way across with Marco right behind her, hands hovering ready to catch her. Natalia helped both Ryan and Lisa take off their boots, then took off hers as well. Meanwhile, Darryl was taking off his own boots and Zion’s. Blue had already drunk his fill and then splashed over to the other side. Now he was barking as if urging them all to hurry.
When Natalia pulled off her sock, it stuck to the blister. It was worse than popped. Her stupid boot had basically worn a bloody hole in her toe.
When she stepped in, she gasped at the shock of the cold water. Rocks, some slick with algae, pressed into the soles of her feet. On the other side, people were refilling their water bottles and passing around Wyatt’s filter as well as the sunscreen. Marco wet his bandanna and then wrapped it around his forehead.
Wyatt was the last one over, walking across the log as easily as if it were earth. As he jumped off, he glanced down at her feet, then winced and looked closer. “That looks bad. Why didn’t you put anything on it last night?”
“I didn’t want to waste supplies.”
“It’s not wasting if you need them. Here, I’ve got some moleskin in my pack.” After retrieving his first aid kit from Marco, Wyatt used her scissors to cut out a little doughnut shape, peeled off the backing, and then pasted it so the raw spot was now surrounded by a ring of cushioning. As she was pulling on her socks he said, “I think we need to get going.” He sniffed the air again, like an animal scenting for predators. “Because the fire smells closer.”
If she paid attention, she could smell it, too. Pitch and balsam, campfire and char.
Setting out again, they managed to pick up a little speed. The fire itself was harrying them forward. Not only was the air smokier, but they could hear the grumble of the flames growing louder behind them, with the occasional loud crack as a branch or even a tree fell.
Glowing orange embers began to float past them. No one said anything, just walked faster, fast enough that people sometimes tripped on a root or slid as pebbles skittered under their boots. With the help of the trekking pole, Lisa was limping along as fast as she could, but her teeth were sunk into her lip. And even though it was now full daylight, Darryl still occasionally stumbled.
Despite their increased speed, torn rags of bark laced with fire began to blow past them. Then an ember, still alight, landed a few feet from them and flared to life.
Natalia’s breath caught in her chest.
Marco was on the tiny blaze in an instant, stamping it into oblivion. He upended the rest of his water bottle on the spot.
“My hero!” Beatriz clapped her hands together.
But then it happened again. Ten feet away, a burning tatter landed on a bed of needles. A puff of wind ignited the pile into a fire as big as a dinner plate. Coughing in the smoke, Marco stamped this one out too.
“Look, man,” Wyatt said. “There’s too many of them for us to put out. We need to concentrate on getting the heck out of here.”
In silence, they hurried on. Slowly, slowly, the number of falling sparks dwindled, but the rolling smoke still stung their eyes and burned their throats. Sweat traced Natalia’s spine.
From behind them, Beatriz let out a shout. “You guys, we have to stop!” Her voice was panicked.
“What’s wrong?” Wyatt said.
“It’s Marco.”
When Natalia turned, Marco was bracing his hands on his knees. His breathing was fast and rough. The cords in his neck stood out like wires.
“He sounds like a zombie.” Zion backed away.
But zombies were brain-dead and Marco looked desperate.
“It’s an asthma attack,” Beatriz said. “And his inhaler ran out last night.”