Page 61 of Smoke and Fire
I took that to mean higher humidity was a good thing, which made sense. My head spun with all the weather talk running around the mountain. The voluntary evacuation had been issued, but people still hung around and waited. I’d never known what a pyrocumulous cloud was before this, and now I couldn’t imagine what anyone here would talk about once this was over.
If Pineville survived.
Bastian:Looks like we’re going to leave in five. I’ll lose reception soon.
Dahlia:I’ll send text message updates throughout the day.
Bastian:Can you make it video?
A huge smile slipped across my face. I sent him a selfie of me winking and pointing at him, followed by a GIF with an old man in board shorts saying, “You got it, dude.”
Bastian:#bestassistantever
I set the phone aside and tried not to fall in love.
BY THE TIMEthe sun fully rose and morning slipped into place, a small thundercloud moved away from Pineville.
It didn’t drop any rain that I could see, but the air had cooled. Only open sky lay behind the lone storm, and I felt stupid for investing any hope in actual moisture. Today would roll out as blistering hot as all the days before it. Time to get the air conditioning on before it was too late.
After making breakfast, changing into a pair of shorts and a tank, and coordinating a time to join Sione, Mark, and Stella at Adventura for dinner next weekend, I sat back down at the computer and my makeshift desk again.
Five emails cluttered the top of the inbox. All of them had the same subject line.
Priyanka Patel:To Bastian’s Assistant: open this email.
Priyanka Patel:To Bastian’s Assistant: open this email.
Priyanka Patel:To Bastian’s Assistant: open this email.
Priyanka Patel:To Bastian’s Assistant: open this email.
Priyanka Patel:To Bastian’s Assistant: open this email.
With a heavy swallow, I obeyed. What could this development possibly mean? A quick note waited inside each email, reading the same thing each time.
To Bastian’s New Assistant,
At 9:30 your time, I will be initiating a video call to this email account. Please answer it, as the purpose is to speak with you.
Sincerely,
Priyanka
My gaze darted to the clock in the corner of the desktop.
Three minutes away.
Almost the moment the clock changed to the half hour, a screen popped up on the computer to announce Priyanka’s call. I flattened my hair, shoved it out of my face, and hit the green answer button.
Seconds later, a middle-aged woman with short, subdued hair and a steady expression filled the screen. I forced a smile. She blinked twice, regarded me for the space of a breath, and spoke in a succinct voice.
“What’s your name?”
“Dahlia.”
“Dahlia, I’m Priyanka. You may call me Pri.”
“Good morning, Pri.”
