Wild Fire (17 page)

To her surprise, he obeyed. His eyes were wide, his lower lip quivering. “Ryan, you have to stay with me from now on, okay? It's important. You have to listen and do what I say.”

He nodded and took hold of her hand. “Are we going to find Anne now?”

“We're going to try.”

She found the faint line of bare dirt where the horses had crossed the meadow. The fire was moving parallel to them, southeast along the ridge. Had it already jumped the gorge to their side? She couldn't tell.

She ducked her head. The wind was driving the heat and smoke right at them. Her face was beginning to burn. She moved quickly, careful to keep herself between Ryan and the worst of it. The air was thick with the scorched-earth smell of burning brush.

A blizzard of ashes mixed with bark and pine needles rained from the sky. Ryan stumbled, then stopped and rubbed at his eyes. “My eyes hurt, Kara, and I can't breathe. I want to go back.”

Her own eyes were watering so much she could hardly see. She had to fight the urge to turn and run the other way. What if they didn't find Anne and Colin? Once they made Otter Lake, there would be no more choices. The only way out was the steep, switchback trail to Pine Creek.

“Here, grab on to my backpack. We're almost to the trail.”

Three mule deer, a buck and two does, rushed past heading west, away from the flames. Ryan's feet dragged. Kara urged him on. “Look, Ry. There's the path.” She steered him to the right and turned away from the fire. The heat was to her back now, so she pushed him in front of her. “A few more feet and we'll stop to rest.”

Pop. Crash
. The sky exploded into a ball of light. She pushed Ryan to the ground and fell across him, covering her head. For a heartbeat it was quiet. Nothing moved. She raised her head and saw flames licking hungrily at the brittle needles of a fallen fir tree.

A hot wind blew across her cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hands to her ears. That sound. That horrible, screeching, roaring sound. Like a freight train hurtling through the trees.

It was the same as in her dream. Mom was calling her.
Wakara, run
. The voice seemed to be coming from the flames.
Knock it off. The voice isn't real
. She tried to take a deep breath, but her lungs felt like they were going to explode.

Pinpricks of fire seared her bare arms and brought her up on her knees. She could smell burning cloth and hair. They were on fire! She knocked one large ember off Ryan's collar and brushed wildly at her hair.

Ryan coughed and sat up, his breath making whooshing sounds next to her ear. She grabbed his backpack, hauled him up, and ran, half dragging him back down the trail, toward the lodge. Kara hated to give up their search for Colin and Anne already, but she knew they could never make it to Otter Lake in this heat and smoke. She realized they were in serious danger even heading away from the fire now. Now, they had to make it to the river.

When they reached the meadow, she picked Ryan up and began to run blindly. Her lungs burned. She forced her legs to move faster. Then her foot caught the edge of a hole. She stumbled forward, lost her grip on Ryan, and hit the ground
.

She lay still, trying not to cry, trying even harder to catch her breath.
Stupid prairie dogs!
Ryan had rolled away from her. She could hear him coughing a few feet away. She tried to call out to him, but her tongue felt thick, as if it was glued to the roof of her mouth.

They weren't going to make it. She felt a fresh rush of fear.
Oh, God, if You don't help us we're going to die
.

Was this how Mom had felt when she was trapped in the flames?
No. Mom had been unconscious. She couldn't have known
. Kara felt a quiet settle over her. She could almost feel her mother's cool hands brushing the heat from her face.

She cupped her hands and put them over her mouth, filtering the smoky air. When her heartbeat slowed, she moved each arm and then her legs. Everything worked.

She rolled to her knees. The fall had torn holes in her jeans. Her hands and both knees were bleeding. She pushed to her feet, brushing at the dirt and pebbles imbedded like a thousand needles in her skin.

Ryan was crawling toward her, a dull, faraway look in his eyes.

No. Not now
. He couldn't lose it now. There was no way she could carry him any farther.

“Ry.” She lifted him to his feet. “It's okay, Ryan. It's going to be okay.” She winced as his arms clamped around her waist. He clung to her like a lifeline.

She held him a second longer, then gently pried him away. “Do you hurt anywhere?” He held out his hands. They were scraped like hers, and a small cut decorated his forehead above one eye.

She realized the heat had lessened, yet the smoke was just as thick. “We have to follow the river now. It's our only way out. Can you be brave and help me?”

He nodded, and she felt a stab of hope. “God will take care of us.”

Somehow, saying the words out loud, she knew it was true.

T
HE
M
INAM
R
IVER WAS CLOSER
than she had thought. But the raging white water that had rushed and whirled across the rocks last spring had shrunk to a narrow, shallow stream
.

Black cinders popped and hissed in the water, but still it felt like heaven. She lay down flat in it and told Ryan to do the same. “Soak yourself. But don't drink it. Here.” She pulled the canteen from the side of her pack and handed it to him. “Not too much, it might have to last awhile.”

She swallowed a mouthful of water, then untied Ryan's bandanna from around his neck and soaked it in the river. “Here, tie this around your nose and mouth.”

His eyes lit up. “Like a bandit.”

She laughed, then choked and swallowed against the burning in her throat. They needed to move. But the water felt so good.

“Kara?” Ryan was holding something out to her.

“What's this?”

“Buerscosh.” He already had his tongue wrapped around a piece of hard candy.

“Butterscotch? Thanks!” The moist candy tasted like honey and soothed her burning throat. “What else have you got in there?”

But he had already tightened the drawstring on his “survival kit” and refused to open it.

Six loud pops like firecrackers sent her scrambling to her feet as a fresh deluge of cinders fell around them into the water. She turned and watched in horror as a great orange wall of flame shot into the air at a curve upriver and began to leap from tree to tree. “Oh, no! A crown fire!” It was still moving the other way, but the wind could blow burning leaves and branches for miles. “Let's get out of here.”

She started to run, but the acrid, black smoke seared her lungs. She dropped to the water. “Hands and knees, Ry. You can breathe easier close to the ground.” She bit her lip to keep from crying out as rocks and pebbles cut into her already stinging skin.

She crawled fast, pushing Ryan along in front of her, but he moved clumsily. She felt the familiar chest-squeezing fear. This time the nightmare was real.

The riverbed dropped and curved. She surged forward. “Faster, Ryan, come on, we have to move.”

“I can't!” His voice caught on a sob.

He was exhausted. So was she. And so thirsty she could drink the river dry.

Ryan slipped and fell flat. She let herself drop beside him into the shallow water and willed herself not to panic. The banks now sloped a good five feet above them. Down here the air was not as thick. It would be easier to walk instead of crawl, and they would still be able to breathe.

Clouds of smoke hovered to the north and east. Bursts of flame shot sparks into the sky like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

Her hands were numb. She used her teeth to open the canteen and handed it to Ryan. “Drink.”

He chugged down half the container before she grabbed it away. A tingling pain rushed up her arms as she guzzled the rest. Her throat still burned. They had two bottles and the other canteen.

It would have to be enough.

“Yuck!” Ryan gagged as a dead trout floated by, belly-up. Another followed, then another. She pulled him to his feet
.

Ignoring the cramps in her legs, she picked her way toward the bank. “It's not as slippery over here. We can move faster.” Off to the right, she could still see the trail they had ridden the day of Ryan's accident, but it soon disappeared as the riverbed twisted downward.

Steep dirt banks gave way to rock as the canyon narrowed. Ryan was trotting ahead of her now. She picked up his rhythm, moving forward in a mindless fog. Her limbs felt heavy. She wanted nothing more than to sink into the cool water, rest her back against the bank, and sleep.

Their pounding footsteps echoed, leaving the horrible crackling of flames behind. The water grew deeper as the canyon walls closed in, rushing first above her ankles, then almost to her knees, slowing her down.

She looked up, and a new flash of terror snapped her out of her stupor. Straight in front of them a towering wall of granite blocked the canyon, forcing the water through what looked like a small archway about three feet wide in the rock. She could tell by the way Ryan was running, head down, eyes fixed on the riverbed, that he didn't see it in front of him.

“Ryan, stop!” Her scream bounced like a rock out of a slingshot from one side of the canyon to the other.

Ryan's head snapped up as his feet slipped out from under him. He cried out, then slid toward the gaping archway. Kara dove forward. Her hand connected with the flap on his backpack. The Velcro fastener pulled free, but the nylon held.

She froze, gasping for breath, and stared through the archway where Ryan's legs disappeared. A waterfall! It had to be the same one Ryan was looking at from up on the cliffs the day he fell. Why hadn't she heard its roar? But she knew the reason—the water was too shallow because the weather had been so dry. It wasn't moving fast enough to crash over the edge of the rock with any force.

Kara held on and raised herself slowly to her knees. Her hands still gripped his backpack. Carefully she shifted her hold to his armpits and pulled him back up.

She drew him out of the water toward the side of the canyon just a few feet away. She slipped off his pack, and he wrapped his arms in a death grip around her waist. She held him just as tightly. She could feel his slight body shaking, but the sobs she heard were her own.

She couldn't believe he wasn't hurt. For the second time her brother had almost fallen to his death, and all he had to show for it were cuts and bruises.

“That boy must have a hundred guardian angels.” She could almost hear Mom's voice, see her shaking her head. “He's an accident waiting to happen.”

“Thank You, God,” Kara whispered. It seemed too simple a prayer for what she knew He had done. But she couldn't think of any other words right now.

She sniffed back her tears and looked around. They were trapped. She could see the ledge where Ry had fallen before, high up on the canyon wall. Colin had been right when he said there was a waterfall, but it went through the rocks, not over them. She'd been too worried about Ryan that day to notice.

She wasn't in control of this, not anymore. She dropped her cheek to the top of Ryan's head. They could have died a dozen times today. Like Mom. But they hadn't. That must mean God had a plan. Anne said she needed to learn to trust. Well, she didn't see any way out of this.

“I'm letting go, God. You're the only one who can help us now.” She looked up, past the narrow rock walls that shot steeply into the already darkening sky. An eerie, red glow from the fire would soon be their only light.

Tunnel Falls
. The words stilled her prayer. Anne had talked about this place. “Where the mountains kiss, and the river drops off the edge of the world, there is a door; a pathway to the sky. . . . God knows the way, Little Moon, but only those who truly seek can find it.”

Kara closed her eyes. What else had Anne said? Ryan's grip had eased, and he now sagged against her. Her own breathing was so shallow she could barely think
.
The rocks. Something about the river racing like wild fire through the mountain
.

The archway. Tunnel Falls
. “The hidden path!” She nearly shouted it. “We're in the gorge, Ry. The one Anne talked about. We couldn't have come this far if the river was high, but there's hardly any water now.”

She couldn't believe it. She had always thought that Anne's story was just folklore, and that there was still only one path out of the valley—the Pine Creek trail. But if this really was Tunnel Falls, and Anne's story was true, then that meant they could get out through here.

She moved him to arm's length and gave him a gentle shake. “Come on, you have to help me; there has to be another way out. It can't be the falls. Look for a cave. A gap in the rocks.”