“We’re barely halfway,” I mutter, as Kael steadies his light over the graves. “And it’s freezing. I think?—”
“Shh.” He bumps me with his blanket mound. “I heard something.”
“It’s probably?—”
Snap. A crack knifes through the dark where he’s pointing, and my whole freezing body goes stiff.
“We’re scaring ourselves,” I say. “It’s just a squirrel. Checking out a cemetery at night is probably not a good idea. Come on.”
A high-pitched wail erupts, and we jump. Kael yelps and flings the blanket over my head, turning us into a panicked two-person tent before I can see what made the noise.
“Oh Jesus,” he says. “Oh Jesus.”
Our flashlights paint each other’s darting eyes under the blanket, the wail even louder in here. Then a chorus of dings cuts through it, and I start laughing.
“Cell service,” I say.
“What? What?”
I angle my screen toward him as the wildfire alert gives way to messages piling in. Under a blanket, in a graveyard, in the middle of nowhere, we tip our phones down to check the latest updates.
The fire isn’t contained, but it hasn’t crossed Philbrook Lake yet. It’s pushing west toward Jonesville instead, a valley now between us.
Kael doesn’t shove me out of his blanket shield, and I’m in no rush to leave. The fabric hangs to our calves, so my ankles are ten degrees colder than the rest of me.
Under it, Kael smells… good. Like me, there’s sweat and smoke and exhaustion, but underneath that, something brighter. Sun-warmed skin, pine, cold air, and the raw, electric musk of someone working hard to survive. It hits like a jolt, and makes me want to move, to explore, to take a risk.
Our legs press together, tangled in a shivering Y. We lean out just enough to scroll, and my waist and stomach burn where they’re lined up against his. Too lined up.
I shift back a few inches, not out of the blanket’s warmth, just out of Kael’s immediate orbit. Far enough that nothing… problematic is going to press against him.
“I’ll call Jenny,” I say, my voice wobbling.
He nods, eyes still locked on his phone.
There’s half a ring before Jenny’s voice cuts in. “Thank God. Where have you been?”
“We lost service,” I say. “We’re at Inskip Pioneer Cemetery. What’s going on?”
“Inskip Cemetery,” she repeats, slow and focused. “Okay. About seven hours from Paradise. Not bad.”
So we’re still doing this.
“Fire’s not coming your way. Yet,” she adds.
“And the rescue team?” I ask, letting sarcasm soak through.
“All the roads are closed,” she says. “I called every shop and number I could find, left messages, but they’ve probably evacuated. A few are volunteer firefighting or?—”
“It’s fine,” I cut in. “It’s freezing, pitch dark, and fire notwithstanding, I’m not sure we should be off-road hiking. Any chance hunkering down makes more sense than stumbling through the woods?”
Kael nods furiously, whispering, “Lots of love on social… no SEAL Team Six.”
“I won’t sleep a wink,” Jenny says. “If we can find you a spot with reception, I can warn you if things turn.”
“Hold up, putting you on speaker,” I say, catching Kael watching me instead of his phone. “You said if we hunker down somewhere with reception, you’ll ping us if things get worse?”
“Right.”
