Tamia unlatched the translator from the tree and stuffed it into her bag. She caught up to Charlie as he clomped over the wooden planks to the other side of the river. She was excited. He had an idea, and together they’d work it into a plan. The trees hadn’t anticipated this, had they? They didn’t think anything was actually going to happen when she found Charlie. They’d only been trying to get her out of the way. She was supposed to be their ally, but apparently that word meant something different to them than it did to her. Making peace was going to be way more complicated than she’d thought.

Still, hope bubbled up inside her as she and Charlie got into her car. She backed up and turned the wheel, taking them back toward town.

“Okay, talk to me,” she said. “Where am I heading? What’s your idea?”

“Where’s the biggest blaze they’re fighting right now? We got to go there.”

“Here,” she said, giving him her phone. “My browser’s already on the fire map. So why the biggest blaze?”

Charlie swore quietly. “This can’t be right.”

“What?” She clenched the wheel, turning onto the main street of Nakalish.

“They’re moving.”

“What do you mean?” She glanced over, and he was shaking his head.

“There’s a bunch of fire icons moving. They’re multiplying.”

“What?” Tamia turned on the radio, catching an emergency announcement in progress: “—in response to increasingly volatile fire activity across the state. Citizens are advised to prepare an emergency bag with food, water, and medications, keep a full tank in your cars, and stay tuned for further information. These blazes have become highly unpredictable statewide, so an order to evacuate your community could come at any moment. We advise you to look at the list of shelters on our website and note the location closest to you.”

“They’re starting it,” he said, his voice full of anger. “Why are they starting? They’re supposed to wait!”

Tamia fought down panic. “They must not be connected this far out. If we want to talk to them, we’ve got to get closer.”

“How fast you think they can spread a message?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “What are you thinking?”

He turned down the radio. “You know how those trees were lying down back at the river? I’m gonna try to get the ones spreading the fire to do the same thing, a peace gesture in front of the fire crews. That should give you leverage with your people at the governor’s office.”

“Hold on, they fired me, remember?”

“But they still know you,” he insisted. “If I can get the trees to stop for a second, that should be the proof you need to get the governor’s office to listen to you. That’s the best shot we got at stopping the spraying.”

“You sure about this?” Tamia asked.

“Nope,” he said plainly. “You got anything?”

“No.” She gripped the wheel and tried to come up with a Plan B as she turned onto the highway out of Nakalish. Yellowed grass and stubby little bushes whizzed by the windows on both sides. One spark and all this would go up in flames.

Once they hit Pilalla City, they had a choice to make.

“Which way?” asked Tamia. “If we’re going to Seattle, the 82 would be fastest.”

“But there’s traffic advisories for Highway 12.” Charlie thumbed through Tamia’s phone. “That’s where the trouble is, so that’s where we need to be.”

Tamia turned west onto the 12, against a flood of traffic heading the opposite direction. Her stomach tightened, wondering if it was just her, or if the air really was getting hazier. She kept driving, trying not to stare at the patrol cars parked at regular intervals on the shoulder.

The nearer they got to the pass, the taller the trees on either side grew, and the closer they pressed in toward the highway. Funny, she’d always loved that about Washington, how at every turn the sheer size and number of trees reminded you that each city was a speck of civilization carved into a massive forest. That thought had never really felt threatening until now.

“Crap.” She hit the brakes, stopping at the barricade blocking her lane. A trooper climbed out of his vehicle and approached. Tamia glanced over at Charlie’s sullen profile. A whiff of smoke entered the car when she rolled down her window for the officer.

“Sorry, Miss, road’s closed. Fire activity. You’ll have to turn around.”

“But, um, all our stuff’s still up at our campsite.”

“Sorry, outbound only, Miss. You’ll have to go back and wait until we get the all clear.”

“How long will that be?” she asked, already knowing what a stupid question it was.

“Wish I could say, Miss. Sorry, but you’ll have to go wait it out in town.”

“Okay, thanks,” said Tamia, hiding her frustration. She rolled her window back up and turned around into the growing line of vehicles heading back out to the main highway. “Any other way to get close?”

“I don’t know,” said Charlie. “They probably got everything but the 90 blocked off by now.”

Tamia held out her hand for her phone as they crawled behind a line of cars away from their goal. She checked the fire activity map. Service was slow, but the fire icons finally reloaded. Two spindly lines of activity snaked westward, toward Seattle and Olympia, a surgical strike against the largest city and the seat of government. These trees were not messing around. She clicked on the refresh button and the screen went blank. Service sputtered in and out, reloading the page in dribs and drabs. How long would it take for the fire to reach Seattle? Days? Hours?

She gripped the wheel and cursed quietly at the mass of vehicles in front of her. Behind her, officers were moving the barricade, converting the two-way highway into outbound only. But still, who knew how much time they’d lose backtracking, let alone trying to find another way to get closer to the fire. “How close do we have to be for your plan to work?” she asked.

“Hang on,” said Charlie. “See that?” He pointed to a turnoff that appeared to wind back into the woods. “That’s got to get us deeper in.”

Tamia peered at the sign. “‘White Pass Maintenance.’ Are we supposed to go up there?”

“Do we have a choice?”

Tamia took a deep breath and looked around for troopers. She veered to the right onto the side road, thankful now for the wall of trees hiding them from the highway. The rusted bar gate stood upright and open, and Tamia purposely didn’t look at the trespassing signs as she rolled through. She sucked in her breath as she bumped over a pothole.

“Where exactly does this go?” she wondered aloud as she rounded a curve.

“Hopefully, right up to the fire,” Charlie said. “Listen.” The chop of a helicopter waxed and waned overhead. Tamia stepped on the gas, hoping they weren’t being tracked. A moment later, she heard the deep rumble of a big rig behind them and checked her rear view mirror. A bright red, tank-like truck crawled up the road behind her. She eased off to the side to let it pass, but it ground to a stop beside her. She heard shouting and opened her window.

A man in a yellow helmet shouted at her over the chugging engine. “There’s a fire up here, Miss, I need you out of here right now!”

“Oh, sorry,” she yelled back, trying to sound clueless. Exhaust and smoke wafted in through the window and she coughed.

“Turn around and get back on the highway, now!” shouted the firefighter. The massive tank on wheels pulled off, grinding uphill as Tamia rolled the window back up and snapped her vents closed.

“Shit, they’re gonna send someone up here, I bet,” said Charlie. “They’re gonna send up a patrol to chase us down.”

“Well, we just have to get to the fire before they come.”

“How you gonna do that with that truck up ahead?” he asked.

Both of them looked up as an airplane flew overhead. It sounded low and out of place.

“Hang on.” She shifted back into gear and rolled up to a Y in the road. The service road curved to the left and an unmarked gravel road veered off to the right. They looked at each other.

“You sure this little car can take it?” asked Charlie

“No. Maybe. I hope.” She took the right fork onto the gravel road.

Tamia bumped slowly over rocks and divots, wincing at every scrape of the undercarriage. She wanted to race uphill, but this was not the time to pop a tire or disembowel her little Toyota on a boulder. Steadily they climbed, the air growing hazier as they wound their way up the trail. A few minutes later, another helicopter chopped overhead. “Is that the same one?” she asked.

Charlie craned his head around to get a look. “There’s a couple of ‘em. I think one’s a news ‘copter.”

“Well, they’re here for the fire, they don’t care about us,” she decided out loud, more for comfort than for any logical reason. The trail narrowed as her car struggled uphill. Helicopters circled and Tamia could have sworn she heard another airplane off in the distance.

“That’s probably them dumping retardant,” Charlie guessed.

The smoky haze grew thicker, and the ruts in the road became so large and frequent Tamia couldn’t avoid them. She and Charlie swayed back and forth like they were riding in a wagon train.

“I bet we could walk faster,” said Charlie.

She looked over at him. “In this smoke?”

“We got to move, I bet those copters are tracking us.”

“Why would they?”

BANG!

“Shit.” Both her front tires had landed in a divot extending all the way across the road. She eased her toe back onto the gas pedal and heard something scraping below. “Shitshitshitshit.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” said Charlie. “Lemme take a look.”

As soon as he opened the door, smoke stung her nose.

“Close the door!” she yelled. He slammed it shut and she looked around for something to put over their faces. A scarf, an extra shirt? No, nothing but her stash of bottled water. “Just cover your face,” she said to Charlie. She handed him a bottle of water and pulled the front of his shirt up over his mouth and nose.

He stepped out. Panic rose up inside Tamia as the smell of ash seeped into the car. She climbed over the front seats into the back, hoping to find some cloth shopping bags in the trunk. She pulled the tab to fold down the back seat and fished around with her arm. Nothing. She slammed the seat back into place.

Charlie yanked open the door. “Patrol,” he croaked, pointing downhill. Tamia heard the sound of a vehicle rolling up the gravel switchbacks and she scrambled out of the car. She yanked her sleeve down past her hand and held it over her mouth as Charlie pulled her over the lip of the road into a deep, eroded trench running alongside it. The approaching engine grew louder. Tamia stumbled toward a dead log at the bottom of the ditch, throwing herself down next to it and pulling dead leaves and broken pine boughs over herself.

She heard the vehicle stop. The doors clicked open and two muffled voices called out. It sounded like they were wearing masks. Tamia wished she had one too. Her eyes felt like sandpaper. She started to rub them, but the crackle of dead leaves stopped her. She held perfectly still, her tongue grating ash against the roof of her mouth. Boots crunched over gravel. Her heart thudded so hard she was afraid her whole body would start jumping.

She heard murmurs and what must have been the officers stepping around her car. One of them called out, “Sir? Miss?” and a moment later her trunk thunked open. Just then it occurred to her that she’d left the back door open, her purse inside, and keys in the ignition. They’d organize a whole search party.

“Miss! Sir! Can you hear us?” an officer yelled, closer this time. “Call in backup,” he yelled to his partner.

“From where?” shouted the other. “We got all hands on evacuation.”

The ground trembled. A radio blipped and the ground shook again. The officers yelled, and the earth began to churn beneath Tamia. Dirt roiled and rocks tumbled down the ditch, pelting her. She struggled to her feet and tried to climb up the slope, but the dirt crumbled away beneath her feet. She fell to her knees and looked for Charlie, finally spotting him crouched behind a boulder with his arms over his head.

The tickle in Tamia’s throat intensified. She squeezed her watering eyes tight and clamped her hand over her nose and mouth, rocking with the ground. Above her on the road, car doors slammed shut and an engine roared to life. Tamia made a final dash up the slope and clutched at the edge of the ditch. As she pulled herself up, she peered over the edge just in time to see the trooper’s car back into a 3-point turn. As the vehicle raced away down the mountain, the shaking subsided and finally stopped.

Tamia exploded into a wracking coughing fit, and Charlie scrambled over to pull her out of the ditch.

“You okay?” he yelled.

Tamia couldn’t answer, just made a stumbling beeline for the car and wrenched the cap off one of her bottles of water. She drank and coughed and drank some more before twisting the lid off another bottle and handing it to Charlie.

“Get in,” he said, pushing her gently into the passenger seat and closing the door. He jogged around the driver’s side and turned on the ignition. Cool, filtered air circulated through the car.

Tamia poured water over her face to flush her burning eyes. She blinked and wiped them with her sleeve, finally able to see clearly. And then she understood what had made the officers flee. All around the car, in every direction, craters and cracks gaped where something had pushed up through the surface of the road. A huge crevasse had opened up in front of her car, and another one behind. A movement caught her eye, and she turned her head just in time to see something slip down beneath the surface of the road—something that looked like a root.

She turned to Charlie. His expression told her he’d seen exactly what she had. “Guess we’re not drivin’ out of here,” he said.

“We need masks,” said Tamia, popping open the glovebox and pulling out the first aid kit. “Why didn’t I think of this before?” She wetted one of the gauze pads with water and held it up to Charlie’s mouth and nose, then wound gauze around his head to hold it in place.

“Do me,” she said, wetting another pad. He tied it to her face.

“What about our eyes?” she asked.

He held the gauze up to his eyes, then looked around. “You got any sunglasses in here?”

“I live in Seattle,” she said, a bit of sarcasm to mask her fear.

“Guess we’re out of luck.”

She stuffed as much gauze, pads and water into her bag as would fit and looped it over her head. “Ready?”

Charlie nodded. “Let’s go find that fire.”

As soon as she opened the door, it felt like the fire had found them. A hot wind pressed against her as she got out of the car and followed Charlie into the trees on the uphill side of the road. They’d have to get high enough to spot the fire, and stay away from the emergency crews long enough to negotiate with the trees. The sound of helicopters above reminded her that they couldn’t stay hidden for long.

They clambered up the slope, maneuvering over branches and underbrush, winding through cedars and firs. While Charlie stopped for a drink, Tamia climbed onto a small, flat clearing with two squat utility buildings. He joined her at the edge, where she had found a view of the valley.

A thick haze hung over the deep green carpet of treetops stretching out below them. The wind caught and bent columns of dark grey smoke rising up from the forest, carrying heat and ash for miles. A tanker plane flew in low and dumped a plume of blue retardant over a distant knot of smoke.

Tamia wiped her gritty eyes and focused on the undulating treetops. Amidst the drone of planes and helicopters, she heard the distant creak and pop of trees flexing. Haze blurred the details, but she knew what was happening. The trees were waving, bending, passing the flame from one to another, westward toward Seattle. She tried to check the fire activity map again, but it still wouldn’t load.

She squinted, trying to spot the far edge of the blaze, but the smoke was too thick. She wanted to know where the fire ended, how close it was to Seattle. What if it was already on the outskirts? She imagined flames dancing through the cedars and pines in her parents’ yard, licking across their lawn, crawling up the side of their home.

How far away were Mom, Dad and DeShaun right now? They’d told her they were going to head north, join the growing line of cars seeking refuge in Canada. But even on a good day the I-5 was a mess, so by now they were probably stuck in a parking lot on the highway.

Tamia imagined what it would be like when the fire got to the heart of Seattle: smoke, sirens, panic, burning buildings, streets clogged with cars and glittering with broken glass. People screaming and running for the harbor, desperate to get to the water, the city turning to ashes behind them.

Charlie crossed over to a large Whitebark pine on the edge of the clearing and stood facing it. He put both hands on the tree and leaned in toward its pale, scaly trunk. Something in his stance told her not to intrude. She took out her phone instead and typed in Governor Palmer’s direct extension. She knew it from work—but she’d never dared to dial it before.

“Palmer,” he answered.

Her stomach twisted at his deep, authoritative voice. “Governor Palmer, this is Tamia Bennett. We’re up at White Pass, off Highway 12. We’re looking right at the fire.”

“Tamia? How did you get up there? Doesn’t matter, you have to get out. They’re evacuating.”

“I know,” she said. “But we can stop this. We’re negotiating with a pine right now. I think we can get the trees to stop this if you call off the fire crews.”

“You can’t be serious. I don’t have time for this.”

“Please wait, sir. I am serious. The trees are open to negotiations, but only if you stop dousing them with chemicals.” She glanced over to Charlie, who had wrapped the translator around the tree and was speaking into it.

“Out of the question. I’m watching footage right now. That fire’s out of control.”

“You’re watching the White Pass fire?” she asked. She looked at the helicopters circling and thought she could make out the News 5 Logo.

“Yes, and it’s a hell of a fire. We can’t stand the crews down.”

“Sir, you know I work with Dr. Block.” Not that this was Dr. Block’s plan, but it was the only thing that would get him to listen. “If we can show you something—if we can show you that the trees are serious about cooperating, will you stop dumping the retardant?”

“If you stop that fire, we’ll talk.”

“Keep watching,” she said, glancing over at Charlie again. “I’ll call you right back,” she told Palmer and hung up.

She approached Charlie and the pine cautiously. Now he wasn’t saying anything at all, just resting his head on the trunk. Was that good or bad?

“Charlie?” He didn’t respond. “Charlie, talk to me.”

He raised his head from the trunk and walked past her to the lip of the clearing, then looked out over the valley, silent.

Her heart sank. This didn’t look like success. It didn’t look good at all.