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“And leave the house?”
“No, you each drive your cars up there, and I’ll see if I can at least get this maple cut down, make sure the house is as secure as can be, and will join you shortly.”
The two women share a look I’m afraid is spelling resistance, so I quickly add, “The air will be cleaner up there, better for Ma, she’s already wheezing a bit.”
My mother’s eyes narrow on me, recognizing the manipulation. She would; I learned from the best.
As expected, Dana immediately complies. “Of course, yes. Come on, Theresa, let’s get you out of this smoke.”
Five minutes later, loaded up with bottled water and a few essentials—blankets, food, matches, flashlights—the two drive off in convoy, and I pull out my radio.
Dana
* * *
“What is this place?”
We’ve parked our cars side by side near the largest building—a warehouse, I believe—farthest from the trees.
“An old limestone quarry that shut down years ago,” I explain, taking stock of our surroundings.
Key is to get out of the cold, the wind seems to be much stronger up here, and it’s really biting in my skin.
The large rolling doors at the front of the warehouse don’t budge, but when I walk around the side, I encounter a service door, which does appear to be unlocked. It’s pretty dark inside, so I return to my Toyota to grab one of the flashlights. I’m not sure what we’ll find inside, but maybe there is something I can use to make a fire in there, something to warm us up.
Theresa follows me inside. The floor is concrete and every footstep echoes through the cavernous space. It’s mostly empty, except for a few piles of garbage along the far wall—looks like building materials and a few pieces of furniture—a large wooden shelving unit to my left, and some chains hanging from pulleys attached to the steel beams that hold up the roof.
“Creepy,” Theresa observes.
“Very. This could be the setting for a horror movie,” I contribute.
Even as I mention it, a shiver runs down my spine. Not sure whether it’s from the cold or getting creeped out, but I don’t really want to stay in here. I know the wind is blowing outside and the smoke is thicker, but at least I can see what’s going on around me. I feel helpless in here.
“We can sit in my car,” I suggest. “It’s out of the wind, and it’ll be easier to stay warm.”
The older woman nods her agreement.
Back outside, I have to squint my eyes against the sudden light, which seems bright compared to the dark shadows in the warehouse. The wind seems to have picked up, which makes me worry they’ll have trouble containing the fire.
The Edwards County Fire Department isn’t very big, with the main station in Silence and a secondary one in Lutton, and relies heavily on volunteers. Especially in the case of wildfires. For fires that can’t be contained, the Washington Department of Natural Resources, or DNR, sends out their specialized teams of wildland firefighters and equipment, based in a dozen or so locations around the state. But it takes time for a team like that to mobilize, and in the meantime, it’s the local firefighters who have to pull out all stops to try and control the fire.
Once inside the car, I reach into the back seat to grab a blanket for Theresa, whose teeth have started chattering. It might just be the cold, but I’m concerned it could be shock setting in. Rick’s mother is not a spring chicken, I’d guess her to be early seventies at least. It’s been a stressful hour or so—or however long it’s been—since I discovered the fire, and the adrenaline has been pumping nonstop.
“Are you okay, Theresa?” I inquire gently, curving my hand around her wrist.
She instantly flashes me a smile as she nods, but I notice a nervous muscle twitching in her cheek. Not as okay as she’d like me to believe, a judgment based also on the rapid pulse I feel under my fingertips.
“We should be fine here,” I try to reassure her. “If you get too cold, let me know. I have another blanket in the back, and I can always turn the engine on and run the heater for a bit.”
“What’s keeping Rico?”
Of course her first concern would be her son, and I’ve been wondering the same thing.
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” I return with more confidence than I feel.
Grabbing one of the water bottles from the cup holder, I crank the lid and hand it to her, before opening the other one for myself. The cold water feels good sliding down my throat, which feels a little raw from the smoke.
Beside me, Theresa pulls a phone from her pocket, and looks at the screen.
