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I crept backward. As we got into the thicker woods, Daniel's foot slipped in scat. He stumbled. I tried to catch him, but he grabbed a skinny pine for support. The tree creaked and swayed. Dead needles rained down.
"Did you hear that?" a man's voice asked. "Someone's out there. I see white."
Daniel glanced down at his white tee and swore. Rafe yanked off his denim jacket and tossed it over. Daniel tugged it on as we moved.
We were running straight into the fire now. A curtain of red shone through the trees. The heat blasted us. Ash and smoke filled our eyes and noses. The roar sounded like an oncoming train. I could hear shouts, though, and what sounded like an ATV.
I swerved to the left, where the trees were thicker. When Rafe started to follow, Daniel caught his shoulder.
"Split up!" he shouted. "That way!" He pointed in the other direction.
Rafe took off.
"Maya!" Daniel yelled.
When I glanced back, he coughed, struggling to breathe. I veered toward him.
"No!" he said. "Go on! Head toward town! I'll stay close!"
I nodded and ran, circling back toward the road.
THIRTY-SIX
THE SMOKE GOT WORSE with every step. Tears streamed from my eyes. Smoke seared my lungs and each breath burned.
Was I heading in the right direction? My gut told me home was this way, but I'd gotten off course. Between the smoke and the ash, I couldn't see more than a few feet in front--
I stumbled onto the road, nearly pitching face-first when the ground dipped. I stopped and bent, getting my head as close to the ground as I could, breathing in the better air down there.
"Maya!"
With the distant roar and crackle of the fire, I couldn't tell if that was Daniel or Rafe. I turned, still bent, hands on my thighs as I blinked to see through the smoke. All I could make out was a figure walking toward me.
At the last second, I saw the dark blue jumpsuit and wheeled toward the forest. Then I noticed the rifle pointed right at me.
I stopped in mid-twist. I gasped for air as my brain spun, trying to find a way out of this, but knowing I couldn't. He was less than ten feet away and that gun was aimed right at my chest.
"Please," I said, lifting my hands. "You're the police, right? You can get me back to town?"
A lame plan, but if he didn't want to kill me, this was a way out--he would pretend to be the cops and get me back to Salmon Creek.
He stopped walking.
"Our truck broke down," I said, words rushing out. "We saw the fire. Can you help me?"
He lowered the rifle. Yes, oh please, yes!
"Maya," he said.
No! Pretend you don't know me. Pretend you're just a cop. Please!
I glanced across the road, then at the gun. How fast could I get to the woods? Faster than he could aim and fire?
"It's okay, Maya," he said. "Everything's okay."
He pulled off his air mask and smiled at me, and I stood there, frozen. He was about my dad's age. Brush-cut black hair. Tall and lean. He was Native, but that wasn't what had me staring. It was his face--the cheekbones and the reddish brown eyes.
I'd seen those eyes and those cheekbones before.
