Page 8 of Mountain Captive

When she was in her parking space in the alley behind the gallery, she made sure the doors of her car were locked, then laid her head on the steering wheel and closed her eyes, her whole body trembling. She never had made the five thousand hummingbirds. She had believed getting away had ended her ordeal.

But someone had pushed that bird through the gap in her car window. When she had parked at search and rescue headquarters, she thought the lot was safe enough for her to leave the rear windows down just a few inches to keep the interior cool. Jedediah, or someone else, had taken advantage of that, letting her know she could never truly escape. They were telling her it was time to fulfill what they thought was her destiny. The one thing she was determined never to do.

Chapter Four

Early Saturday morning, Rand drove home from Junction. He had been called in after midnight to tend to a young man who had suffered multiple injuries as a result of wrapping his car around a tree along a curvy road—fractured sternum, broken ribs and collarbone, a fractured arm, and multiple bruises and cuts. Rand had spent hours wiring the man’s bones back together. Weariness set in when he was halfway home, so he did what he always did to try to stay awake: he opened a window to let in fresh air and thought about something other than himself and his fatigue.

He had stayed away from Chris since Thursday night, even though the desire to know what was going on with her gnawed at him, a low-level ache. If she wanted his help, she would ask. To keep pressing himself on her could be seen as harassment. He wanted to be her friend, not someone else she was afraid of.

He thought of the origami hummingbird. Not exactly a threatening item, yet Chris had been physically ill at the sight of it. He had a bad feeling about that moment, but maybe he was putting too much of himself and his own history into it. Maybe the hummingbird had been a kind of sick joke that only had meaning to her, not a real threat.

But could anyone be so upset by a joke that they would throw up?

His phone vibrated, and seconds later the video screen on his dash showed he had an incoming text. He pressed the button to hear the message, and the car’s mechanical female voice recited, “Wildfire on national forest land south end of County Road 3. All search and rescue volunteers needed to evacuate campers in the area.”

Rand increased his speed and headed toward search and rescue headquarters. He parked and joined the crowd of volunteers just inside. He spotted Chris right away, her blue hair standing out in the sea of blondes and brunettes. “Hello,” she said when he approached. No animosity. No particular warmth either.

“What should I do to help?” he asked.

She shoved a lidded plastic bin into his hands. “Put these first aid supplies in the Beast.” She indicated a boxy orange Jeep with oversize tires and a red cross on the back door. “And do whatever Danny or whoever he appoints as incident commander tells you.”

He joined a line of volunteers passing gear to the vehicles, then followed Ryan and Caleb to a Toyota truck. He, Caleb and Carrie Andrews squeezed into the back seat. Ryan drove, and Eldon took the passenger seat. They followed the Beast to the highway, then turned onto a county road that grew progressively narrower and bumpier as they climbed in elevation.

“Check out the smoke,” Eldon said, and pointed at the windshield to a black plume rising in the distance.

“People who don’t live here don’t understand how dangerous these dry conditions are,” Ryan said. “One spark from a campfire or a discarded cigarette can set a blaze that destroys hundreds of thousands of acres.”

Ahead of them, the orange Jeep slowed, then pulled over to the side and stopped. Ryan pulled his truck in behind it and rolled down the window. The headlights of a vehicle moved toward them. Tony stepped out from the driver’s side of the Jeep and flagged down the vehicle. Rand leaned his head out the open back window to hear the conversation. A second car idled behind the first. The driver of the first—a man perhaps in his fifties, his brown hair heavily streaked with white—spoke clearly enough for Rand to hear.

“Are you with the campers who are back here?” Danny asked.

“I don’t know about that,” the man said.

“Were you camped in the national forest?” Danny tried again.

“Yes. We saw the smoke getting heavier and decided to leave.”

“How many are with you?” Danny glanced toward the other vehicle.

“There are six of us here.”

“Only six?” Danny asked.

“More’ll be along soon,” the man said. “They’re packing up camp.”

“How many people?” Danny’s tone signaled that he was quickly losing patience with the man’s casual attitude.

“Maybe a dozen.”

“Men? Women? Children?”

“What business is that of yours?” the driver asked.

“Whoever is back there needs to get out now,” Danny said. “They don’t have time to pack. The winds are pushing the fire this way. We’re here to help with the evacuation.”

“They’re just a few miles back,” the man said. “You won’t have any trouble finding them.” He shifted the car into gear and lurched forward, the other vehicle close on his bumper. As they passed, Rand got a glimpse through tinted glass of two adults in the first vehicle and four in the second. All men, he thought.

Tony climbed back into the Beast, and the caravan of volunteers set out again, driving a little faster now, their sense of urgency heightened by the thickening smoke. “Do we know anything about these campers?” Rand asked after a moment. “Who they are or where they’re from?”

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