Page 159 of Whispers and Wildfire

I followed the highway back northward, watching for a road leading in the direction I wanted to go. There was a web of old logging roads in the area, crisscrossing the forest through the low hills at the base of the taller mountain peaks. I’d been through them a million times, exploring the wilderness, dirt biking when we were younger, and even off-road racing. I just had to hope I could find a way through that didn’t lead me miles in the wrong direction.

Finally, I came to an almost invisible dirt road stretching off into an area of sparse pine trees. I turned, slowing so my car would handle the bumps and I wouldn’t accidentally drive over a fallen log or other large debris.

The road continued straight for a while. I needed to turn south and debated going off-road and cutting through the trees. But something told me to wait, and after topping a low rise, the land went down again, and the road forked—one side turning south.

My tires spit dust into the dry air as I flew around the corner. The trees opened up, and the land rose and fell in a series of hills. Ash drifted down from an increasingly smoke-filled sky, and I wondered if I would run headlong into the fire or the wildland firefighters working to contain it.

A string of possibilities ran through my mind as I navigated the narrow dirt road. What if the wildland crew found his hiding place? Would they have any idea he was holding Melanie hostage? What if he fled with her, either to avoid discovery or to get away from the fire? How would I find her then? They might already be long gone.

Or what if he had no idea the fire was coming, and I didn’t get there until it was too late. A forest fire could rip through an area in minutes, trapping anyone who hadn’t left.

No. That wasn’t happening. He would not have time to hurt her, and she was not going to die in that fucking fire.

The danger to the woman I loved sharpened my senses. Adrenaline flowed through my veins, but it was a tool, not a drug. My grip on the steering wheel was supple, rather than tight. The world seemed to slow, the roar of the engine fading into the background, and every obstacle stood out.

The road curved to the left and a fallen branch appeared, almost out of nowhere. I swerved hard, avoiding it, leaving more dust in my wake. I had to make snap decisions whether rocks or other debris were passable. It was like navigating the track amid a host of other drivers, some of whom wouldn’t hesitate to clip you.

Emerging from a narrow thicket, I pushed my speed, almost catching air as I went over another hill. A loud roar almost made me slam on my brakes. Was there another car? I looked around but didn’t see anything, even as the noise grew.

Glancing up, I saw a plane flying over the treetops. It was a water scooper, an aircraft designed to skim the surface of a body of water and drop it onto a wildfire. It was flying at low altitude, which probably meant I was getting dangerously close to the fire.

Didn’t matter. I had to find Melanie.

With the sun obscured by the smoke in the air, it was tough to keep track of my direction. The road forked again, and I slowed to a stop. Which way? Leaning forward, I looked out the windshield, trying to find the sun.

Like a song surging into my brain out of nowhere, Melanie’s evil queen voice popped into my head.The glove box, you imbecile.

“Thomas,” I said out loud and opened the glove box.

The blue drawstring bag with the present he’d given me was still there. I got it out and dumped the contents onto the seat. The toy Lambo and the flashlight rolled toward the seat-back. I grabbed the compass and opened it, hoping it actually worked. The needle wobbled a bit, then settled. The right fork led south.

“Buddy, I’m going to have to help pay for your college or something,” I said as I hit the gas and turned right. “You might have just saved my ass.”

Using the compass, I navigated the back roads through a thicker section of forest where the pine trees crowded the road on either side. There was room for me to pass, but only just. I had to hold tight to the center of the road, otherwise I risked hitting the branches. Scratches were one thing—didn’t care—but a large branch could take out my windshield if I wasn’t careful.

Finally, I emerged on a wider section of road. The trees thinned out and another road joined the one I was on—coming from the direction of Echo Creek.

Was I on the road that led to the bridge?

Pushing my speed, I went as fast as I dared under the conditions. Birds flew overhead—hundreds of them going in the opposite direction. Probably fleeing the fire. If things had been different, I would have worried about driving in the opposite direction of a mass exodus of wildlife. I was heading straight into danger, and I did not care.

Finally, I saw it. The old railroad bridge. There was nothing on either side—no wall or guardrail—and the ravine plunged down to the creek bed below. I had to slow down just to get across and it was every bit as bumpy as I remembered. Rhythmic bumps, just like Bella had said. This had to be right.

With my teeth rattling in my skull, I made it across. With every foot of ground I covered, the smoke got worse. The fire was getting closer. Not far from the other side of the bridge, Isaw what I’d been hoping to find—a turn. If I went left, I’d wind up at the old racetrack. But turn right, and hopefully I’d find Melanie.

With my heart in my throat and ash falling from the sky, I took the turn and drove as fast as I dared.

CHAPTER 40

Melanie

With my wristsand ankles still bound, I dutifully ate some of the sandwich Roswell had made me. I wasn’t actually hungry, and it was hard to swallow around the lump of fear in my throat, but somehow, I pulled it off.

The worst part was the way he watched me, his dull gray eyes intent on my face and the trace of a smile on his lips. He seemed to be enjoying himself, which made me want to throw the sandwich at him.

But I stayed in character. The damsel was happy with what he’d brought her.

“Thank you,” I said, putting the rest of the sandwich back on the plate. “I’m finished.”

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