Fishing In Fire, page 10
Annette hurried to catch up with Yumi and Hunter, who led the group, Yumi keeping an eye on the compass and map, Hunter whacking down brush with a large stick.
“The wind’s mostly blowing north, right?” Morgan said after they’d been walking several minutes. “The fire to the north is closer, but the wind should be pushing it the other direction right?”
“Fire spreads fastest in the direction the wind’s blowing, yeah,” Mason said. “But it still spreads.”
“Oh great,” Morgan said. The girl had dropped any pretense at popularity. She was scared. And she was tired. They all were.
“And wind direction can change,” Mason said.
“Yep, it’s real bad!” McKenzie shouted from the back of the line where she walked with Morgan. “Can we all accept that and just move on? I don’t understand why we keep talking doom and gloom. Like, how does that help us?”
The way forward was rough. Hunter helped a little, but Annette still had to pay close attention to where she stepped in order to avoid tripping. Still, she risked turning back to flash a smile at McKenzie, who, Annette had to admit, was right.
But if it made no sense to endlessly repeat how dangerous their situation was, and if the silence only invited more worrying about the same, perhaps what was needed was distraction.
“So, Mason,” Annette said. “Mason,” she shouted louder to be heard over the crunch of the weeds and the whistle of the wind. “Football practice starts next week. You going to play?”
Mason laughed. “Football? You want to talk about football at a time like this?”
Annette kept her voice light and friendly. “Why not? You have somewhere else you have to be? Something better to do?”
Yumi looked back at her with a confused expression for a moment, but Annette only shrugged.
“Right. Football? Maybe,” Mason said. “I think so. I don’t know.”
“You seem so sure of yourself, Mason,” Yumi said.
It was a strange conversation, all of them spread out and walking single file. They had to practically yell to be heard. “I was joking,” Yumi said quickly. “Go on. You were saying you don’t know if you’re going to play football?”
“Oh, sorry,” Mason said. “Yeah, well, I like fishing the most. Wrestling after that. I’ve been doing OK in the youth wrestling tournaments I’ve been in. But now, with middle school sports starting, this is the real deal. My cousin down in Boise was a state champion wrestler. He quit football after seventh grade to focus on wrestling. Extra camps. Weight lifting. Running. He didn’t want to risk an injury in football that would knock him out of the wrestling season after that.”
“You’re worried about getting hurt?” Hunter asked. Annette was surprised he had spoken up about it.
“Not hurt,” Mason said. “I can take the pain. I once had a fishing hook rip clear into my thumb. Like it sliced right—”
“OK!” McKenzie said. “We get the picture.”
“I don’t mean pain,” Mason said. “I’m talking about injuries. People get injured in football. If I break a leg in a football game, that would kill my whole wrestling season.”
“I didn’t mean it like I was making fun of you,” Hunter explained.
“It’s cool,” Mason said. “What about you? Football?” Hunter didn’t answer. “Hunter, you gonna play football?”
“No,” Hunter finally said.
“What?” Yumi said, shocked.
Annette was surprised too. This must have been the first time Hunter had said this out loud.
“This is the second time I’ve been out here in serious danger in the mountains. I mean, we could . . . well, it’s bad. And the thing is, being in trouble like this forces you to think about what is really important. And football is not important to me. I don’t like it. I’ve been pretending to like it because that’s what everybody expects. But if I get through this, I’m done pretending.”
Yumi squeezed Hunter’s shoulder. The group walked on, no one saying anything for a while.
“No, you know what?” Mason said. “That’s cool, man. Respect. And know what else? I kind of like football. Forget what my cousin says, or if my dad thinks I have to dig in full-blast going for a state wrestling championship. You’re right, Higgins. We could die out here.”
“Geez, Mason,” Yumi said.
“Or we could die in a car crash someday or, like . . . choking on a chicken bone or something. Maybe I won’t be around to make the state wrestling tournament even if I could qualify. Might as well have a good time. You know?”
“That’s cool, Mason,” Morgan said.
“I’m excited for volleyball,” McKenzie said. Normally McKenzie diving in to talk about herself would have been annoying, but Annette was glad for the distraction. McKenzie continued, “My mom played volleyball all through high school. Sometimes, when it’s the two of us . . . it’s just fun.”
“I’ll be right there with you,” Morgan said. “I’m not very good, but . . . Well, we have to get out of this mess first.”
“We will,” Swann said. “If Kelton, Hunter, and I made it through that blizzard up on Storm Mountain, then this? This is like no problem.”
“Swann, come on,” Kelton said. He pointed to the smoke.
“No, I mean it,” Swann said. “We don’t have the snow to trudge through. We’re not going to freeze to death just walking around. Sure, this is bad, but I know we’re going to make it. And, you know what? Volleyball sounds like fun. We played it in gym this last year. I think I’ll give it a try.”
McKenzie sighed. “It’s kind of hard to pick up just from PE. Some of us are kind of serious about it.”
Annette ran a hand down over her sweaty face. Here comes another fight.
“Maybe it’s like Mason said,” Swann explained. “Maybe it’s about the fun. Oh, relax, McKenzie. You can still be the big star on the team. I’d just like to try it. For fun. It is a game, isn’t it?”
“Um, it’s like a sport, Swann,” McKenzie answered.
“So is fishing, and that’s been fun,” Swann said.
McKenzie made a noise that was a cross between a grunt and a groan. Annette could practically hear the girl rolling her eyes at Swann. The late August sun still blazed hot, baking Annette, the rest of the group, and the earth, but a sort of chill had settled among them.
Annette scrambled for another topic. Anything to prevent the group’s mood from poisoning further. “What about . . . the skating party? Isn’t there a middle school roller-skating party coming up?”
“Yeah.” McKenzie’s condescending tone was back. “In, like, October. Practically November.”
Morgan joined her. “It’s a Halloween thing and like forever away, Annette.”
“Plus, roller-skating?” McKenzie said. “Baby much?”
“Hold up a second,” Yumi interrupted. She talked quietly with Hunter, reviewing the map and checking her bearings on the compass. “The thing about this map. Yeah, it’s a good map that shows elevation. But what it doesn’t show are all the trees. I’m trying to find this more gentle slope, kind of a crack leading up the mountain, but once you’re out here, it’s all trees.”
“For real!” Kelton said. “Same trouble I had figuring out my shortcut in the snowmobile race.” He held up a hand to stop the several people who looked like they were about to protest against him calling that debacle a shortcut. “I know. I know, it didn’t work out, but I’m just saying, in terms of following a route. It’s hard enough to plan it on a map, and even more difficult to figure it out on the ground.”
Hunter used his weed-whacker walking stick to point at a huge rock outcropping ahead and to the right of their direction of travel. “If that’s a cliff right there . . .” He pointed to a spot on the map. “Maybe this cliff?” He pointed more to the south. “And it looks like it’s super-steep there. See how the trees ahead, the tops of them, some are higher than others?”
Yumi tapped the map. “You’re thinking that’s this rise?”
“Does it matter?” McKenzie asked. “As long as we can get up the mountain and keep moving west?”
“It’ll matter if we keep going up this way and run into a straight vertical cliff face, have to turn around and go back,” Yumi said.
Mason stood with his hands on his hips, looking up at the mountains. “In a way you’re both right. But at some point we just have to go for it, you know? Staying put is the worst we could do.” He smiled at Yumi. “And I trust your estimate more than most. You have to believe in yourself.”
“That’s easier to do when people’s lives don’t depend on my decision,” she said quietly.
“You got this,” Annette told her.
Yumi took a deep breath. “OK, listen up! From here forward, we’re going to start our ascent. It will be a little steep in some places. If I’m figuring this right, it will still be manageable. You know, pay attention to hand- and footholds. We don’t want anyone slipping and falling back down the mountain.”
“We’ve got that rope,” Hunter said. “We could all tie up.”
“You mean, have everybody get really close to each other the whole way up the mountain?” McKenzie asked sharply.
“Maybe save that idea until we really need it, Higgins,” Yumi said. The terrain rose quickly, and within minutes Annette’s legs burned. All around her the group puffed and grunted as they stepped up, up, up.
“Wow,” Swann said. “My mom . . . bought a . . . stair-stepper . . . machine. I thought . . . it was tough.”
“I’ll smash that . . . stupid machine,” McKenzie panted.
“I’ll help you,” Swann said.
The only good thing about the climb so far was that, closer to the mountain, they’d come under the shade of the pines again. This felt amazingly cooler, and had the effect of reducing some of the undergrowth. They walked on rocks and pine needles now, without having to fight too many weeds and shrubs.
“Beautiful, though,” Kelton said.
“We’ve already climbed way higher,” Mason said.
“It’ll be an awesome view from the top. For real,” Kelton said.
Each of them forced one step, then another, always uphill. Annette only had to grab hold of a rock higher on the slope to pull herself up a couple of times. The hill wasn’t too steep. But it was constant. Up, up, up, forever.
Finally, they reached a rock shelf before they’d have to cut to the right and head up a switchback path. Trees and rocks and boulders all around.
Swann sighed. “I don’t want to be a baby, but—”
“Yes, can we rest for a little bit?” Kelton leaned over, his hands on his knees. “We must have come up at least five hundred feet. Look down there.”
Yumi sat on a rock. “If we’re on the right path, we won’t make the top of the ridge until we’re up another thousand, maybe thousand five hundred feet.”
“Oh no,” Morgan said. “From up here you can totally see the north fire. It is getting closer.”
Mason pointed south. “If this section of the mountain wasn’t in the way, I bet we could see the flames to the south.”
“Can anyone spare some water?” McKenzie spoke in something like a whimper. She wasn’t putting on her act-like-a-baby routine. The girl was desperate.
Yumi reached behind her back and pushed her backpack up and down. “I don’t have much left, but you can have some of mine.” She shook her CamelBak drinking tube. “You have a bottle or something? I can squeeze the mouthpiece and water ought to drip out.” McKenzie looked like she thought that would be really hard, as she approached. Yumi wiped the mouthpiece on her sleeve. “Or I could just wipe it off, if you’re willing to take the risk.”
“I don’t know, Yumi,” said McKenzie, taking hold of the drinking tube. “Sharing someone’s drinking thing might kill me.” She kind of laughed, but then eagerly gulped water.
“Anyone else need a drink?” Hunter asked. “I have water left. When we reach the next stream that looks reasonably clean, I’ll use my water filter pump and fill all our bottles and stuff.”
Not for the first time, Annette felt terrible for leading them into this mess. “I’m sorry, everybody. I didn’t figure we’d be out here so long.”
McKenzie gasped the way people do when they’ve been so thirsty that they drink and drink as long as they can without breathing. “I swear, Annette. If you apologize about this one more time, I will throw you off the mountain.”
“Right,” Yumi said. “Nobody saw this coming. And even if we should have thought about the fire risk, we all still could have brought more water, other gear.”
After everyone had been able to drink some water, the group continued, without anyone suggesting it out loud, to make their march up the mountain. In some areas, the way ahead grew so steep that they finally did take out the rope. Yumi tied it around her waist. Hunter and Kelton tied up next. Everyone else used it as a sort of extra handle, to help pull themselves up the steeper parts.
Except to warn about a loose stone or to point out a better way of ascending to the top of the next boulder, nobody spoke. It was as if nobody dared waste so much as a particle of energy on a single extra word.
Annette coughed. She’d been breathing heavily as she climbed, and the woods all around them had filled with more and more smoke. Her throat hurt. This was only the first ridge. Yumi had said there would be a valley after this and another rise before they could follow Hazard Creek down to Highway 95 and, she hoped, to safety. Another rise? How could she possibly make another climb like this?
Gradually, Annette faded, ceased to exist. She didn’t think about her friends, her family, or even the danger they all now faced. She forgot those subjects to which her mind often wandered. She didn’t care about the school newspaper or website. Gone was the surprise about Hunter’s choice not to play football, about Swann declaring she’d try volleyball. Hundreds of feet lower, Annette had considered whether or not she wanted to give sports a try, but even that had faded now. All that remained was her current step. Then another. And up. Up some more. Finally the shade vanished and hot bright sunlight blasted in her face. For a brief dizzy moment her heart felt like it skipped and she worried the forest fire was in front of them. But just as quickly, some of her sense returned and she realized it was only the sun.
Annette squinted against the glare and kept walking, until finally a shadow crossed before her and put her arms around her. “Whoa, there, Ann,” Yumi said. “Let’s take a break. I think we’ve earned it.”
“What are you talking about?” Annette whispered.
“We made it! To the top of the first ridge anyway.” Yumi patted her back. “Woo! That was quite a thing.”
Morgan practically fell down on a rock, taking a seat to rest. McKenzie stayed on her feet. Was she trying to be tough? Annette didn’t know or care. She sat on a wide low flat slab of rock, pulled off her shoes and socks, and winced when she saw her feet. Angry red hotspots on the backs of her heels. The same on the toes next to her big toes. Her feet would be in bad shape before this was over.
Annette wiped her sweaty brow, took a deep breath, and finally looked around. “Wow,” she whispered. If she wasn’t stretched out on the warm rock, she would have almost thought she was flying. They were up on top of the world. In the distance below all around were trees, mountains, valleys. “Idaho, I love you.”
Idaho was known as the gem state due to all the mining that settlers had done back in Wild West cowboy times. But the truth was the entire state was one beautiful gem of a nature place. Except right now, the gem’s on fire.
“Hey, guys?” Hunter called out. “I know we’d all like a break, but the fire doesn’t get tired. It’s still spreading. We better not rest very long.”
Annette sighed again, wincing as she slipped her socks and then her shoes back on. Every part of her body protested with soreness as she forced herself to her feet. Everybody drank more water. From the looks of the others, Annette knew she was not alone in her misery at being forced to continue so soon. Yumi and Hunter checked the map and her compass. And then the group set off again, the only mercy being the start of a downhill route. A small mercy, with the deadly fires burning closer and closer.
elizabeth willard pulled her car into the garage at home, shut off the engine, and closed her eyes to soak in the silence. It had been an exhausting day. The phone in her office at City Hall had not stopped ringing. The fire. The stupid fire. It was terrible, yes. But did people not have Google? The fire department and Forest Service phone numbers were right there on the McCall website. They didn’t have to call the town secretary with every question, did they?
What percentage containment do they got on the fire? Check the news! They were trying to keep the line open to help organize emergency response.
Um, there’s a lot of smoke. Will the city pool still be open today? Call! The! Pool!
I live in an apartment on Roosevelt Avenue. Is there an evacuation order? Do I need to leave? Hmm. She’d really had to think about that brain-buster. A block and a half from the lake. No, probably safe from having to evacuate. You could always just look out your window, and when the entire town panics and runs away, go with them.
Of course, she hadn’t been able to say any of these things to the callers, and she forced herself to remember they were all good people who were simply scared. And a solid portion of the calls had been legitimate business. The mayor checking in to see if there was any word yet about National Guard firefighting reinforcements. Guardsmen were on standby at Boise. KTVB 7 News calling to talk to the mayor about some approval or other, and asking about flight clearance for their news chopper. CBS News, the national bureau, calling about sending reporters and what kind of access they could expect from city government and emergency responders and was this fire as serious as they were hearing?
