Saturday, 3:48 p.m.
The fire had reached the forest behind them. Meredith had no plan, but she pulled Thea along, the dog at their heels, deeper into the forest because that was now the only path left to them.
In their haste, Thea stumbled, and Meredith’s own foot caught the same fir tree root. Her body slammed against the trunk. She traced her fingertips along the bark.
Meredith looked around and realized that they’d run farther than she’d believed. She flashed to Leyna’s story about falling into the ravine the day Grace disappeared. Leyna had pointed out the ravine once. Wasn’t it near here? Lightheaded, Meredith struggled to remember its location and how deep Leyna had said it was, but Meredith’s memory was muddled by exhaustion and, dangerously, smoke. Plus she’d never paid close enough attention to what her daughters told her.
Meredith made a fist around the imagined roots of the sugar pine Leyna had described, nearly feeling the bite against her palm. If the tree was still there and healthy—if its roots were still exposed—they could climb down into the embankment that way.
She couldn’t help worrying, though, that the tree would be dead like so many others, its roots decaying and ready to snap, like a secret carried too long.
Other concerns pressed too. Was the sugar pine surrounded by grass that would burn quickly or by dead trees that would soon become torches? Would the ravine be littered with the large cones of the pine, tacky with flammable sap?
Would they even make it that far?
She shook her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts. She couldn’t risk a bad choice. It would doom them both. But even more dangerous would be making no choice at all. Unless she left Thea behind, she couldn’t outrun the fire. There was no creek, lake, or pool near enough. No roads or meadows with their hidden reserves of groundwater. Their only shot was the ravine and the hope that the wildfire would jump it in its hunt for fuel.
Snot dripped from her nose. Her skin felt both scorched and sticky.
She spotted the sugar pine first. Then the ravine appeared, as wide as she’d hoped. She prayed it was as deep too. Meredith risked a quick glance over her shoulder, relieved that they would likely beat the flames.
Meredith pushed Thea toward the ravine, less than twenty feet away now. The dog dropped to the ground, refusing to go any farther.
To Thea, Meredith said, breathless, “Go,” and she knelt to pick up the dog. He seemed heavier than he had before, and her back ached. When Thea separated from Meredith, she fell to the ground. Meredith picked her up too.
We’ll make it, Meredith thought. We have to make it.
Heat on her back near blistering, dog clutched to her chest, Meredith pulled Thea to the edge of the ravine, even deeper than Leyna had described.
The sugar pine was on the wrong side.
Holding the dog and Thea’s hand, Meredith thought of her own daughters. Whatever happened here, Leyna and Grace had each other, at least.
Meredith nudged the girl, and they both jumped into the ravine.