Ricky had no idea how long he’d been traveling, or how far. The ride was smoother now, because they were in thicker woods where the trees didn’t have to lean over so far to pass him off. He’d stopped yelling for help, focusing instead on shifting with the movement of trees and looking around for clues as to where he was.
Needles rustled, branches clacked and birds squawked as they were rousted from their nests. The rocking motion slowed at last, and Ricky heard something new. An engine, far off. It sounded like an airplane. The trees stopped moving, and he took the opportunity to stand up and look around.
Off in the distance—to the south? west? he had no idea—he saw a big, white airplane flying low, just above the tree line. There was a second one behind it, and a third one on its left. They were flying in formation.
Ricky yelled and waved his arms at the planes until the platform of branches supporting him began to sway. He gasped and ducked into a crouch, panting. When the rocking subsided he stood up again and slowly circled his arms to catch the pilots’ attention.
Suddenly a big blue cloud spilled out of the bottom of the first plane. He knew right away what it was, even though the color was different than in all the videos he’d watched. The fire retardant was light and heavy at the same time, floating in a big foggy trail behind the plane, then drifting slowly down into the forest. The second and third planes released their plumes of retardant before all three curved away from Ricky and flew off into the distance.
But where was the smoke? Where was the fire all these planes were supposed to be putting out? He turned around, confused. All the videos he’d watched had smoke, but he didn’t see any here. So why were those planes dumping retardant?
The forest grew quiet as the planes disappeared. Really quiet. Ricky realized the tree still wasn’t moving, and he was wasting his chance to get away. He clambered down the tree, hoping it wouldn’t change its mind with him halfway down. To his surprise, a branch lowered itself to help him to the ground. He landed with a crackle of dead leaves, his head still spinning from his trip through the treetops.
There was a road nearby. He crunched toward it through twigs and debris, lurching like he’d just gotten off a carnival ride. As he got closer, he saw a maroon SUV parked on the shoulder.
“Grampa?”
“Ricky? Ricky!”
Ricky stepped out to the roadside and his grandfather jogged toward him. “My god, Ricky!” The older man knelt down and squeezed him.
“I’m dizzy, Grampa.”
“I’ll bet you are. But you’re okay? You’re not hurt?”
Ricky slumped against his grandfather. “Yeah, I’m okay. Where are we?”
“Near Issaquah. Do you know how far that is?” said the older man, leading him to the car. “It’s pretty far. It took me over an hour to get here.”
Ricky was glad to sit down in Grampa’s SUV. It made him less dizzy.
“The trees told me where you would be,” Grampa told him. “They didn’t want to hurt you. They thought they were doing a good thing by getting you out of harm’s way.”
“Why, what’s going on?”
The older man hesitated. “Everything will be fine. They’re just being very careful. It’s what you call an abundance of caution. Here, seatbelt.”
“Grampa,” he asked, buckling himself in, “is there a fire around here?”
“No, not yet.”
“Well, then why are they spraying here?”
His grandfather stopped, his key hovering by the ignition. “Spraying?”
“Yeah, didn’t you see the planes? There were three, and they were flying really low. They sprayed this bright blue fire retardant all over the trees.”
“Blue? Are you sure?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong?”
“They were right,” he said quietly. He started the car and pulled onto the road.
“Who were right?”
Ricky watched his grandfather consider what to say, the way grownups do when they think they can’t just go ahead and tell you what’s going on. “The trees told me they were being poisoned with—God knows what. It’s retardant, but it’s been altered to kill the trees.”
Ricky didn’t know what to think. He knew he should be angry with the trees for spreading fire and burning his dad, but he didn’t think they should be killed either.
“The way the trees describe it,” his grandfather went on, “it’s like they’re overheating. Like their metabolism is being sped up and burned out. Maybe nitrogen. I don’t know.” He jerked the steering wheel angrily to take a curve. “It seems our firefighters are trying to create a dead, fire-resistant perimeter around the cities. Pretty ingenious, actually, unless you have any qualms about killing off the whole goddamn forest.” He glanced at Ricky. “Sorry.”
“They can’t do that,” said Ricky. “They can’t kill all of them. Why don’t they just put out the fire?”
“The trees are spreading it too fast. The firefighters can’t keep up with the trees so now they’re killing them, and whoever else happens to live around here.” He glanced at Ricky again. “Never mind, I’m sure whatever they’re spraying is safe. I’m sure they’ve tested it.”
The older man’s phone rang. He fished it out and answered. “Marla, I just found him, he’s safe. He’s not hurt.” It’s your mom, he mouthed to Ricky. “Yes, he’s perfectly fine. We’re heading east.” He listened. “No, I haven’t said anything yet.” He listened again. “Yes, I will. Marla, we’re all going to make it. Yes, here he is.”
Ricky’s grandfather handed him the phone.
“Ricky, baby, thank god! You okay, sweetie?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“They didn’t hurt you? You’re all right?”
“Yeah, Mom, I’m good.”
“Okay, Ricky. You be a good boy, now.” Her voice sounded funny. Sad. “Daddy and I love you. Remember that, all right?”
“Yeah, Mom.” Her voice made him nervous, like something bad was about to happen. “You okay, Mom?”
“Yes, honey, I’m fine.” She sniffed, like she was about to cry. “Listen to your Grampa, okay? He’s going to take you on a little trip. Call us later, all right? Mommy loves you, honey. I love you so much.”
“Mom?” Why was she so upset? He looked up at his grampa. “We’re going on a trip?”
Grampa Nystrom held his hand out for the phone. Ricky gave it to him, confused.
“Listen, Marla, I’ll explain it to him,” he said. “But he’s still a little stunned from the trees, I think, probably dehydrated. I’ll get him something to eat first. Yes, we’ll be careful. I’ll call you later.” He hung up and stuffed the phone back in his pocket.
“Is Mom okay?”
“Yes, she’s fine. She’s with your father and he’s doing well.”
Ricky waited for more, but his grandfather just kept brooding and driving. “Where’re we going, Grampa?”
“I thought we’d head into Nakalish.”
“Really? Can we go see Charlie? I bet he can help us!”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” said Grampa. “It’s almost like they’re pushing us together.”
Ricky could tell he was talking about the trees. “Is that what they said?”
“No, they didn’t talk about Charlie. They just wanted to get you away from Tacoma. They said—”
Ricky didn’t like the way his grandfather’s expression changed. “What?”
“They seemed to think you would be better off out here, for the time being.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know, Ricky. Let’s see if we can talk to Charlie about it.” He smiled over at Ricky. “So, what do you feel like eating?”
Ricky shrugged and looked down at his lap. Grownups always changed the subject when there was something they didn’t want you to know. He’d just have to wait till Grampa forgot he was keeping it secret. He sighed and twisted back around to where he’d seen the planes, wondering if there would be more. His eyes grew wide.
“Grampa?”
“What?” Ricky pointed behind them, and his grandfather looked into his rear view mirror. His face froze.
A tendril of smoke twisted up from the treeline behind them.
Ricky lurched in his seat as Grampa Nystrom stepped on the gas. His eyes flicked to Ricky, then back to the road. “We’re okay. We’re fine.” His words were meant to be reassuring, but his tone was sharp. “We just have to keep going east.”
“But what about west? What about Tacoma?”
Grampa didn’t respond.
“What if the fire comes back?” Ricky leaned forward in his seat, trying to catch his grandfather’s eye. “What about Mom and Dad?”
His grandfather kneaded the wheel and kept driving. “Ricky, your mom’s going to stay in Tacoma for now, just in case your dad needs her.”
“But why can’t they come with us?”
“Ricky, honey, your dad’s not quite ready to leave the hospital yet.”
And it’s all my fault! “But what if the fire comes back?”
“They’ll evacuate the city if they have to. Everyone will get out, and your mom will help your dad.”
Ricky tried to swallow the lump forming in his throat. “But what if—”
“I don’t know!” his grandfather snapped.
Ricky sniffed, tears brimming his eyes.
Grampa Nystrom took a deep breath in and out. “I’m sorry, Ricky.” He reached over and ran a hand over Ricky’s hair. “I don’t mean to scare you, but it sounds like the trees have some dangerous plans.”
“What did they say?”
“They didn’t say much, just where to stay away from in order to keep you safe.” He gripped the wheel and stared out the windshield. “You don’t give your enemy details when you’re about to start a war.”