Charlie grumbled to himself as he clicked and nudged powwow events around on the screen. Damn his soft heart once again. He shouldn’t even be at the Cultural Center anymore. The trees had understood him and Eddie, and they’d given them a sign. Three more trees went down, so as far as they could tell, Eco-Wood was a go.

But his boss had looked like she was about to have a heart attack when he’d told her he was leaving, so here he still was. Well, at least it was just one more week till the powwow, then he was out of here. And then he and Eddie and that forest were in business. No fires, no panic, no mayhem like everywhere else.

He’d been keeping tabs on the fire situation, what with Liz driving back and forth to Tacoma, and things were looking dicey. Little brush fires kept springing up in a line west of the Cascades, north to south, a 200-mile hot zone from Bellingham down to Centralia. Firefighters going crazy, reinforcements from Oregon, Montana and Idaho. Guard standing ready to deploy, talk about recruiting private citizens as emergency firefighters.

If he and Eddie could keep the peace with their trees, the Palalla would be safe. Maybe even rich in the process if Eco-Wood took off. And then perhaps, if he could find his mother again, he’d finally be able to take care of her like she deserved.

He looked up as the front door opened. A young woman with light brown skin walked in, smoothing a hand over her thick, dark hair. She approached the desk with a serious expression on her face.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I’m looking for Charlie Meninick.”

He kept his face blank. “Who are you?”

“I’m Tamia Bennett,” she said, extending her hand.

Charlie looked at her hand for a moment before shaking it. “And what brings you here, Ms. Bennett?”

“Tamia,” she insisted. “Are you Mr. Meninick?”

He wasn’t a great liar, especially while shaking someone’s hand. “Yeah. Call me Charlie.”

“Finally!” She squeezed his hand even tighter. “I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks! I’m here because of—” She let go of his hand to pull a chair up to the desk. “May I?”

She sat down, and Charlie settled his expression between welcoming and wary.

“I was referred to you,” she said, “by the trees.”

“The trees?” Something in his brain clicked. “Tamia Bennett. Aren’t you that girl that got canned from the governor’s office for the video?”

She flashed a tight, embarrassed smile. “Yes, I used to work for Governor Palmer, and now I work with Dr. Block.”

“So, the trees told you to find me?” he asked. “They say why?”

She leaned forward. “They want us to work together.”

“Work together? On what exactly?”

“Charlie, things are getting bad out there. Between the attacks and the fires, people are getting hurt, even killed.” She kept her voice low, earnest but discreet. “Did you hear about Covington?”

He nodded. He’d seen the footage while flipping back and forth between the powwow schedule and the news. The small community halfway between Tacoma and Seattle was being evacuated because a small brushfire in its outskirts had erupted into a major blaze.

“They can’t put it out,” she said. “Every time they try it moves. The trees move it.”

Charlie looked down at the desk. Eddie had told him not to say too much about tree activity before he got the Eco-Wood patent. But the young woman was right. Those trees were making some kind of maneuvers. Planning.

“Charlie.”

He looked up.

Her expression was stern. “I talked to Dr. Block on the way here. She and Dr. Nystrom—yes, the same one who visited you before,” she clarified when he raised his eyebrows. “They have an idea of what the trees might be up to.” She swallowed. “It’s terrible. I hope it’s not true. But we need to do something to make sure it doesn’t happen.”

“I . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head. This young woman looked seriously afraid. But could he afford to get involved?

“Can I show you something?” She dug her phone out of her purse and tapped it a few times, then turned it his way. She’d called up a Washington fire event map showing a line of flame icons running up and down the state. “Dr. Block and Dr. Nystrom think that Tacoma and Covington were just test runs. They think the trees are lining up a perimeter, and that soon they’re all going to go on the offensive.” Her hand was shaking, so she laid the phone on the desk, facing him. “They think at some point the trees are going to flare up, perhaps all at once, and burn everything from the mountains right through to the coast.”

“That’s crazy!” Charlie sputtered. “Why would they do that? They’d be killing everything off, including themselves.”

“I know, but the trees warned both Dr. Block and Dr. Nystrom to get east. They were the ones who told me to come here—I think they just wanted to keep me from going back to Seattle. I think they’re planning something huge.”

Charlie pushed back from his desk and shook his head. This was impossible. Crazy. And if by some wild chance it was true, could he risk having the Palalla trees think he was siding with the humans? Wouldn’t that just put the Nation on the trees’ list of places to burn?

“Miss,” he said. “I can’t believe they would do that. We have an agreement with our trees. A peace agreement. So I can’t believe they would do something like that.”

The young woman stared at him, lips tightly pressed. “Why don’t we ask them?” She pulled a small metal box out of her purse.

“Wait, is that one of those translators?”

She nodded.

Eddie had told him about them. BIA supposedly had some, but nothing had made its way around to them yet.

“Hang on,” he said, picking up the phone. He called Eddie’s office but he was at lunch. He didn’t pick up his cell either. Charlie didn’t feel right about making decisions about the trees without Eddie—especially not one that could put the Nation on their bad side.

“Sorry, Miss,” he said, putting down the phone. “We’re gonna have to wait.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not good enough!” she insisted, her voice rising. “Didn’t you hear me? There could be a forest fire out there right now, heading straight for Seattle!”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“My family lives in Seattle. My mom and dad, my little brother—” Her voice caught. She blinked rapidly, but not quickly enough to hide the tears starting to well up.

Charlie felt his resolve weakening.

Tamia straightened her back and set her shoulders. “Here,” she said, holding the translator out to him. “If you help me stop these fires, I’ll give it to you. I’ll show you how to work it, and it’s yours when we’re done. Please.”

He stared at the translator. Eddie couldn’t fault him for getting his hands on one of those, could he? And neither could the trees—it was just a way to understand them better. He dialed his boss’ extension. “Ruth, I’m headin’ out for lunch. I’ll be out a little longer today.”

Charlie felt a little buzz of excitement as he swept up his wallet and phone and stuffed them into his pockets. Eco-Wood could get off the ground even faster if they could talk directly to their trees. He didn’t believe they would really burn up the whole western half of the state. They only acted in defense, and anyway, they’d have to burn too many of themselves to go through with it. There had to be some other explanation for all this. He motioned for Tamia to follow.

As soon as they hit pavement, Charlie hurried her down the street.

“Wait, where are we going?” she asked.

“To the river. Follow me.”

“Shouldn’t we drive?”

Charlie stopped dead in his tracks. He’d gotten too used to life without a vehicle.

As they drove to the river, Tamia briefed him on her latest conversations with the changed trees, telling him about their rapidly increasing language skills, their spread into Canada and down into Oregon, their increasing consciousness and understanding of the world around them.

The closer they got to the river, the tenser he felt. Was there any way to guarantee his people would stay on the trees’ good side?

They parked on the opposite bank from where the three fallen alders still lay. Charlie held Tamia’s arm as they passed over the wooden planks to the other side. In all this time, no one had moved the downed trees. While there were fewer visitors, the candles, dried flowers and other mementoes remained.

“Is this a sacred place?” Tamia asked quietly.

“For some. This is where we first learned how to live in peace with the trees.”

“How did you do it?”

He hesitated. “I can’t tell you,” he said. “I mean, I can’t tell you what they want from your people. They’ll have to tell you themselves.” He gestured to the translator in her bag.

She pulled out the machine and approached the forest, carefully avoiding the fallen trees and the offerings. Charlie watched her loop a strap around the platy, grey bark of a pine and cinch it into place.

“Hello, Tamia Bennett,” said the tree.

Charlie’s mouth opened. He didn’t know how he’d imagined trees sounding, but it sure wasn’t like Siri on his iPhone. The young woman waved him closer, and the pine greeted him by name.

“Hello,” he said, feeling a little foolish. He watched the girl make some adjustments to the unit.

“Okay,” Tamia said, “I found him like you told me. Now what can we do to settle this conflict?”

“Too late,” said the tree.

A wave of panic washed over her face. “Too late?” she asked. “What does that mean?”

“Your people start . . . war. We cannot stop them.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what war?” asked Charlie, raising his hands toward the tree. “Nobody’s askin’ for war.”

“Cities Seattle, Tacoma, Olympia. Kill before talking peace.”

“We don’t want any part of it, whatever it is.” No way he was going to drag the Palalla into a war.

The female voice was flat and matter-of-fact. “No choice. Humans use poisons, new fire retardants that kill us.”

“New kind of pox blankets,” said Charlie bitterly.

Tamia frowned, then addressed the tree. “What did you expect them to do, just sit there and wait for the city to burn?”

“You not understand,” said the pine. “No fire until human poison come.”

“That’s not true!” argued Tamia. “You were the ones who kept the fires going.”

“We must keep fire. Our only defense. Now . . . fire retardant take away our defense.”

“You used it as offense in Tacoma,” she said hotly.

“Tacoma warning.”

“Or a test?” she prodded.

The tree ignored her. “Humans still cut us, poison us, burn us. Warning is no good for people. No respond. Now we must have new start.”

“New start,” Charlie repeated. “You’re talkin’ about fresh negotiations, right?”

“No. Too late. We need new start. Shape land for right humans.”

“Enough riddles,” he said, frustrated. “Just say it straight. What do you want?”

“No riddle,” said the tree. “Humans use fire to clear land, get rid of bad insects and plants . . . invasive species. Now we do same.”

Charlie looked at Tamia, stunned.

The tree continued: “We must clear . . . infestation of harmful humans, create room for beneficial humans. Need . . . fertile conditions for new growth.”

“That’s crazy,” he countered. “You’d be destroying yourselves too. That’s not self-preservation.”

“Good is health of our kind, not . . . comfort of single tree. After fire, we sprout, we live again. So will you.”

Charlie’s head felt light. He couldn’t be hearing them right. Were they really talking about destroying everything west of the Cascades?

“Please, wait!” Tamia urged. “Can’t you wait? Can’t we talk about a solution?”

“Your leaders poison us,” said the pine. “We must fight now. Soon too late.”

“But I have another idea,” she said. “Why can’t you use your root systems to disable ours? Get city trees to dig up power lines and sewer lines, disrupt water. That’ll get the cities’ attention, show them who really has power.”

“Roots only for communicate.”

“But you’ve used them before,” she argued. She passed a hand over her mouth in thought. “They must have changed tactics,” she told Charlie. “Dislodging their roots disrupts their communication system, so they must have learned to use them only when there was no other option.”

“Roots grow back! They’d rather burn up a whole state than have a little spotty reception? That doesn’t make sense!”

Tamia shrugged helplessly. “It must to them.” She crossed her arms and looked down. “Maybe they think we need our ‘roots’ to survive, and they’re helping us by keeping them intact. Or maybe—”

“We have to stop them!” Charlie blurted.

“That’s what I’m trying to do. We have to figure out how to reason with them.”

“Trees think and think,” the pine said. “Fire only way. Your population is . . . overgrown with . . . invasive humans. We make room for new stock, best conditions for future peace.”

“So everyone has to die because some are bad?” Tamia asked angrily.

“Enough will survive. We move some. We bring you here, Tamia. Keep you safe.”

“What about my family? You think they deserve to die?”

“We move most . . . promising specimens.”

“What about my family?” she asked again.

Charlie waited for an answer. What about his own family? His dad was still in Seattle, and his mother could be anywhere out there.

The tree remained silent.

So the trees had decided, Charlie thought with a chill. There was no talking them out of it. So how would he get Liz out of Tacoma? What about Jenna, vulnerable and alone up in Seattle?

And what would keep them from turning on the Palalla someday?

Tamia pivoted and stalked toward the riverbank, digging around in her purse. Charlie watched her take out her phone and make a call, cupping a hand over her mouth. The tree still hadn’t responded. Charlie reached for his own phone and dialed Liz, waiting through the rings before it went to voicemail.

Dammit, she’s in class! “Liz, call me as soon as you get this. It’s important.”

Charlie looked over at Tamia, pacing around with the phone to her ear. He still had another call to make himself. He felt worn out just at the prospect of hearing that voice, but he had to call. He took a deep breath and dialed the number he thought he’d never have to dial again. The rings bleeped in his ear, and he prayed for the click of voicemail.

“Hello,” said Jenna.

Shit.

“Hello?” she repeated. “Who’ssis?”

The slip of the “s,” that little blur between words—she was drunk. He pulled the phone away from his ear to check the time. Not too long ago, he’d have been in the same condition right about now. Not too long ago at all.

He heard a deeper voice in the background, and then hers, muffled, as though she were holding her hand over the phone. He knew she’d find someone else sooner or later, but that didn’t make the punch in the gut feel any better.

“Okay, who iss’is?” she said into the phone. “I’m gonna hang up—”

“Wait!”

“Who…” Her voice became a little more lucid. “That you, Charlie?”

He swallowed. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Huh. Go figure,” she said. Then, fainter, away from the receiver: “It’s nobody.”

Charlie’s throat tightened.

“What d’you want?” she asked gruffly.

“Jenna, you got to get out of Seattle. It’s too dangerous there.”

“Ha, you don’t have to tell me that.”

“No,” he said, “you don’t understand. There’s gonna be a big fire there, real big.”

She paused. “How big?”

“Big. You heard what’s been goin’ on with the trees, right?” He knew how easy it was to get disconnected from the world when you lived in the bottle.

“Yeah, I been hearin’ stuff.” She sounded a little more alert now.

“It’s true, Jenna. They’re serious. I think we’re at war.”

The deep voice rumbled in the background again.

“I gotta go now,” she said, quietly.

“Jenna, you have to leave. I’m serious!”

“I’ll talk to Bill.” The unmistakable tinkle of ice in a glass chimed in Charlie’s ear.

“Please, Jenna.”

She paused, long. “I’ll talk to Bill. Bye, Charlie.”

The line clicked dead. He stood dumbly with the phone up to his ear. She wasn’t going anywhere. Even if she did believe him, she’d probably stay there just to spite him, counting on luck like she always did. She never did anything for herself, just banked on the kindness of strangers and suckers like him. And now this new guy, this joker Bill. They’d probably drink their way right through the apocalypse without even noticing. Self-destructive little—

Self-destructive.

Charlie jerked at the touch of Tamia’s hand on his arm.

“Did you reach your people?” she asked, tears rimming her eyes.

Charlie shook off her hand and stalked up to the pine. “You’re makin’ a big mistake, guys.”

“Explain,” said the tree.

“This isn’t how it works with us,” he said grimly. “You make yourselves into the enemy now, folks won’t forget. Burn as much as you want, they’ll just come back with something else.”

“Harm to us is harm to people.”

“Since when does that matter?” asked Charlie. “You been watchin’ us, right?” He turned to Tamia. “That’s what you said, isn’t it? Why they’re learning so fast? They’ve been watchin’ us all this time, and now that they can think, they’re starting to understand everything that’s been going on around ‘em.” He addressed the tree. “So you know what we’re like. Once you become the enemy, we’ll fuck ourselves over just to get a swipe at you.”

“No other choice,” the tree responded. “We cannot wait. Your poisons kill us.”

“But what if they stopped the spraying?” asked Tamia, “Would you put out the fires?”

“Fire is our last defense.”

“Yes, we know!” said Charlie. “We kill you, and you kill us, and everybody’s dead. But what if we get them to stop?” He stepped closer to the tree. “What if everyone could live?”

The pine didn’t speak immediately. “Trees choose life when possible,” it finally said. “If they stop poison, we will speak with them. Speak peace.”

Charlie nodded. “You heard ‘em, get on the horn,” he told Tamia. “Call your people and get ‘em to put a stop to this.”

“Well, they’re not going to stand down just because I say so.” She crossed her arms to think. “They need some kind of proof.”

Proof, he thought. Not just words, but a sign. There was only one sign he knew. He pointed at the tree. “Okay, hang on, I have an idea. But we need time to get a message to those guys in the planes. Tell your friends, don’t start anything yet.”

“Come on,” he said to Tamia, stepping away toward the river. “Grab that machine and let’s go.”