I sit up on the couch and look at the inflatable mattress where Lucy was sleeping.It’s empty, so she must have left, or she’s in the shower, or something.
“What kind of guy in a cabin?”
“He’s a crotchety old goddamn lunatic who’s probably got three dogs, a shotgun, and some very strong ideas about private property rights as if a fire gives a flying fuck about the constitution,” Jennifer says, sounding more than a little irritated.“The usual kind of guy in a cabin, Clementine.”
“Jesus, it was just a question,” I say, rubbing my eyes with one hand.
Jennifer takes a deep breath.So do I.
“Sorry—”
“—No, I shouldn’t have?—”
“—Just haven’t slept?—”
“—You’re fine, it’s fine, don’t worry about it?—”
We go quiet again.
“I’ll go see if I can get him out,” I say.
“Thanks,” she says.“Everyone else I either can’t reach or they’re already at the high school.”
She gives me directions to the crotchety lunatic’s cabin, and we hang up.It’s five a.m.I get off Jane’s couch, pull my uniform back on, pee, and put my shoes on.As I’m heading out, I see a note from Lucy.
Jane - Thanks so much for the bed.I owe you one.
Clementine - Couldn’t sleep so I went to the high school to help out there.See you soon.
I lock Jane’s front door behind myself, and remind myself that I probably also owe her one.
The updateson the fire are constant now, but it sounds like it slowed down yesterday afternoon and overnight.Still, driving into Eaglevale is unsettling at best and feels like the end of a zombie movie at worst.The smoke swirls and thickens, the headlights of my Forest Service truck reflecting back at me in the dark.
I turn off the highway and down a dirt road, and when I go around the shoulder of the mountain, suddenly I can see the bright orange glow in the distance.I can’t see flames over the trees, but it looks like there’s an opening to Hell west of me.
Hunter’s there, I think, and my heart beats a little faster.I haven’t heard from him at all, but it’s not like he’s got a cell signal, and the radios are for official business only.It isn’t like he justhasn’t called.
The cabin with the guy is a long way away, down this dirt road.It’s further than I realized, and I start getting nervous before long.I don’t think Jennifer or Mike would send me here if I were in immediate danger, and there’s a clear escape path, but I’m still not crazy about being even closer to a giant forest fire.
At last, the cabin comes into view.The sun’s just come up, and I’m surprised at how pleasant it is.I was expecting something more along the lines of what Jennifer was describing: a plywood shack, a couple dogs chained in the yard, probably several NO TRESPASSING signs scattered around.
But this is a surprisingly cute house, small and cozy, well-tended, pine slats with a shake roof and an old but well-cared-for pickup truck in front.It’s actually kind of...nice.
It gives me hope.Maybe I’m about to have a reasonable conversation with the guy inside.
I cut the engine, get out, and walk to the front porch.I straighten my rumpled uniform a little, because I’m pretty sure I look like a mess, and I have a feeling I don’t smell fantastic either.Good thing that’s not exactly my number one priority right now.
As soon as I knock on the door, I hear someone thumping around inside.It doesn’t sound like happy,thank God the Forest Service is herethumping, but I stand there, hands folded in front of myself, and try to figure out what I’m going to say.
Leave so I don’t have to be the last person to see you aliveseems like an okay place to start.
The door jerks open six inches.
A shotgun barrel and a face poke out.
“Shit!”I yell.I jump back, putting my hands up in front of me in the universal sign ofdon’t fucking shoot me.I’m pretty sure they’re shaking.
“I’m from the Forest Service,” I yell from across the porch.My heart’s going a million miles a minute, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the twin black holes pointed right at me.
