10:19 A.M.
“I CAN’T HEAR HIM anymore,” Darryl said frantically. About a minute had passed since Marco injected the epinephrine. “I can’t hear Zion breathing!”
Beatriz began to sob in Marco’s arms. Lisa clutched Ryan’s unburned hand. Susan began to shake her head.
“No!” AJ wailed. “No! I’m so sorry!” He covered his face with his hands.
Oh God, oh God, no. Natalia leaned over Zion’s still, small form, squinting through the gathering smoke. His face was so puffy that it was hard to tell, but it seemed slack. Lifeless. She turned her head so she was looking toward his feet, her ear brushing Zion’s swollen lips. Time expanded as she heard nothing, saw nothing.
Was there any point in trying to give him a second dose? Was he dead? If Zion’s airway was completely closed, was there even any point in trying CPR? Chest compressions might be able to force the blood to move around in his body, but that blood wouldn’t do him much good if it didn’t carry fresh oxygen.
Then a puff of air, warm and moist, touched her cheek. At the same time, she saw Zion’s chest almost imperceptibly fall.
Natalia blinked. Had she imagined it? But a second later his ribs rose a half inch as his lungs expanded.
She realized that just because those horrible harsh moaning breaths had stopped it didn’t mean Zion was dead. It meant the hacked EpiPen was reversing the anaphylactic shock.
“Zion is breathing!” Natalia cried to the ring of worried faces. “The medicine is starting to work.” She sat back on her heels and took her own deep breath. “That’s why we aren’t hearing him. Because he’s getting better.”
Zion’s eyes were still swollen into slits, but now he opened them a fraction.
“Hey, guys.” His voice was faint.
Darryl struggled to say something, but was so overwhelmed with emotion that all he could do was shake his head. Tears ran down from behind his sunglasses.
“Listen.” Zion made an exaggerated breath in and out, but it was barely audible. “I’m not the monster anymore.”
“No, son.” Darryl’s voice was rough. “You’re not.” Squeezing Zion’s hand, he looked from Wyatt to Natalia to Marco. “Thank you for saving him.”
“I’m afraid none of us are quite saved yet.” Wyatt said with a grimace. “We’ve still got to get into the burned-out area. The fire’s moving pretty fast.”
Natalia turned. Wyatt was right. The fire was close enough she could see it flickering among the trees, hear it grumbling as it ate its way through brush and berries, ferns and fronds.
When she turned back to Zion, it was also clear the swelling in his face was rapidly subsiding.
Wyatt got to his feet. “Do you think you can walk, buddy?”
After taking another nearly soundless breath, he nodded. “I think so.”
“Good!” Wyatt offered his hand and helped him to his feet. As he did, he added, “I don’t know about you, Zion, but I really want to go home.”
Home. The word was almost painful. Something so familiar, so longed for, but also so impossibly far away.
Zion straightened his shoulders. “Let’s go.” Even if his face still hadn’t been swollen, he was hardly recognizable as the nervous little boy who had begun this hike never letting go of his grandpa’s hand.
People got to their feet and gathered their things. Marco shouted for Blue, and after a moment, he appeared. Trask’s parents buckled him back into the child carrier. AJ put on Susan’s pack. Beatriz grabbed the shoulder straps of Wyatt’s.
Natalia touched Beatriz’s shoulder. “Let me take it for a while.”
“It’s okay.” Beatriz’s words were undercut by the groan she made when she lifted it.
“I know you can do it, but I also know I probably weigh thirty pounds more than you.”
“Let her do it, B,” Marco said. “That pack weighs nearly as much as you.” This time Beatriz didn’t resist when Natalia reached for it.
“Okay!” Wyatt finished checking his map and compass. “That way.” He pointed.
Giving the log with the bees’ nest a wide berth, they went deeper into the black. At first there were only a few scorched patches, but the farther they went, the blacker it got, until finally they were walking over coal-black earth topped with crumbling ash. The lush green forest had been replaced by dozens of blackened spires, like the masts of wrecked ships.
Every step kicked soot into the air, releasing the reek of burned-out ground and charred wood. Soon they looked like coal miners with black-smudged faces, the whites of their eyes startling amid the grime. Blue occasionally yipped in pain as he found a hot spot.
“Watch out for those.” Wyatt pointed at a place where wisps of smoke rose from the forest floor. “Sometimes a root can smolder underground for weeks. If you stepped on one, you could melt your shoes.”
“Still beats trying to outrun the fire,” Ryan said. His bandages were as filthy as his skin. The one on his shoulder looked wet, like the burn was weeping. While there were a few more bandages in Wyatt’s first aid kit, Natalia decided it was better to leave things alone.
They went up a small rise. At the top, they saw four things.
One was a clear line where the burn ended, black on one side and green on the other.
The second was the reason for the demarcation. The line was actually a narrow slot canyon with a river at the bottom.
The third was Jason.
He was standing in front of the fourth thing. A thirty-foot-long footbridge spanning the canyon.
What was left of the bridge, anyway. Because it had been burned.