Page 42 of Memories with Fire

“Yeah.”

Pressing my lips to the top of her wet hair, I allow myself a moment to lay there and be grateful she’s okay instead of down with the wreckage.

“You good?” I ask, leaning back enough that I can see her. “Is your leg hurt?”

“I’m okay.”

We’re not out of the woods yet. With the amount of rain the last few days, the instability of the hillside where the original tree fell, and now where the car went down, I don’t trust this part of the mountain. More downed trees, mudslides, the road washing out—they’re all possibilities. We need to get the hell out of here as soon as possible. Hailey must realize it too, because she’s moving before I tell her to, getting to her feet with me close behind.

We make a mad scramble upwards, having rolled farther than I thought. I’m just thankful I was following her up the mountain on our way home. If I hadn’t waited for her to leave in the parking lot, I don’t want to think about what would have happened.

By the time we crest the hill, the rain has lightened a little, but it’s still coming down. I think maybe that’s why I don’t hear anything to begin with. There’s a little popping noise, that wasn’t there a few seconds ago, that’s getting louder with each crackle.

Hailey hears it too. She looks around, the same as me, trying to figure out where it’s coming from. Then movement in my peripheral vision has me turning to see a tree to our left, just across the highway, starting to come down.

“Hailey, run!” I shout.

She’s already moving, but as her feet hit the pavement, she stumbles. I’ve got an arm around her waist before she falls, and I half carry, half drag her towards the Jeep as fast as I can as a tree slams down over the first one that toppled over.

It’s thunderous as it hits, the sound reverberating through my body, creating a new adrenaline spike. There’s more popping and cracking, and I realize too late that it’s coming straight for us, not looking to give any mercy whatsoever.

I throw Hailey ahead of me and dive after her, covering her body with mine as we hit the pavement at the front of my Jeep. The sound of the tree is more horrific than both the other trees combined, probably because it happens right next to us. The thud is sickening, but it’s nothing in comparison to the way the ground seems to vibrate beneath us from the impact of the landing.

“Luke?” Hailey cries out.

“Yeah, Freckles?”

She’s panicked as she fearfully asks, “Are we alive?”

I’m not sure why, but it makes me smile. I press my lips to the side of her head for a brief moment. “Yeah, we’re alive.”

Our resting spot is beside the driver’s side of my vehicle, the tree having fallen parallel to the front of it. I look down our bodies to where it landed, and curse. From where we ended up, if I were as tall as Brody, I wouldn’t have a leg. Heck, I might not have either of them. They’d be crushed by the tree, and this would be a different story altogether.

Pop. Crack. Pop. Pop. Crack.

Hailey and I both turn our attention to the trees at the side of the road. We know what that sound means now. Without prompt, we’re on our feet.

“Get in the Jeep,” I bark, opening the driver’s side door to practically push her into it.

She’s in and across in a second, and then I’m in the driver’s seat. It’s no more than thirty seconds since we were on the ground, but it’s still too long when it comes to mother nature.

Throwing the vehicle into reverse, I punch the gas and turn the wheel just as a fourth death timber comes hurtling towards us. Back in drive, I watch in the rearview mirror as it lands. Right where we were laying only moments ago.

When I look back to the road, familiar red lights are flash in the distance as they come racing towards us. Relief like I’ve never felt floods me, joining the adrenaline that’s been pumping furiously since I saw that first tree come down in front of Hailey. When the fire engine is closer, I hit the brake and throw the Jeep into park.

“Stay in the car,” I tell Hailey, already out of my seat. The rain has picked up again, but at this point I don’t care. We’re both soaked to the bone.

The engine slows down with my Jeep parked in the middle of my lane and I’m standing on the road, in front of it. I wave them down and watch as the window on the driver’s side descends.

“Roads blocked. Bunch of trees just came down,” I tell the driver, not bothering with a greeting. “A car is at the bottom of the mountain, but I’ve got the driver.”

A driver I need to check on. There was no time to do that before, but now that we’re further away from the toppled trees, I need to make sure she’s in one piece.

The thought sends a new burst of fear rushing through me. What if something hit her when she slammed on her brakes? Or what if her seatbelt caught her over the abdomen in the wrong place when she banged into that tree? Then I was telling her to jump out the window, and then we rolled down that fucking hill. What if she had an injury that I didn’t know about and I made it worse?

Forget rational thought. I know the first thing is to ensure life is preserved, then to treat injuries. Even if it is internal bleeding and could cause death. I did everything right, but all my brain can focus on is what ifs.

“Jesus man. Is she alright?” the driver says as he opens his door. They’re all opening their doors to jump out and assess the scene. “We were on our way to another call.”

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