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I’m trying to keep my voice calm, even as I watch flames shooting off the tops of the trees. Then I notice a downed utility pole across the turnoff to the quarry. “Power line is down on the west side of the highway. We need fire and rescue as well as utilities out here now, there are people in a house three-quarters of a mile up the mountain and their only exit looks to be blocked.”

“10-4 Calls are going out right now.”

I pull onto the grassy shoulder on the opposite side of the road and can feel the heat coming from the fire inside my vehicle. It looks like the downed electrical lines may have sparked the fire, but there’s something almost deliberate about the way the pole happened to fall right across the base of Quarry Road that doesn’t sit well with me.

“Dispatch, also notify the sheriff’s office and tell them to monitor the radio. The road looks impassable, and I may have to go in on foot.”

“10-4.”

I’m pretty sure my Explorer will be safe on this side of the highway, I doubt the fire could cross this way, but even if it does, I’m not spending a lot of time worrying about it. I have bigger things to worry about up the mountain.

Darting across the road, I note there is no traffic on the road other than the single car heading toward Silence I passed on my way up here. The lack of traffic is not unusual for the weekend; the road is busier during the week. I didn’t pay a lot of attention to the vehicle I did see, but remember it was a silver four-door sedan. Now I wish I’d been a bit more alert to it.

I try to steer as far from the heat of the flames as I can and duck into the woods to the south of the fire. My plan is to get ahead of it and then cut back north to get to the road. It’s too easy to get turned around in these woods, and on the road at least I can see the fire coming.

I’m not exactly dressed for a rugged hike in the woods. My boots are made for pavement and my winter jacket keeps getting caught on branches, but I can’t let that slow me down. A few minutes in, I ditch my jacket, which is only slowing me down. It’s not like I’ll be cold, I’m already sweating buckets.

Fire has always been more of a visual experience with me, but here in the shadows of the trees, my other senses are more engaged. The acrid smell of smoke is familiar, but it’s so thick, the sting is making my eyes water. But what is surprising is the noise it produces; a continuous rumble with sharp cracking and snapping sounds as the fire eats its way through the trees.

The fire is all I can hear, the forest canopy trapping the sound and smoke in here with me, making it hard to gauge where exactly it is. Choosing when to make my turn north is little more than a guess, but I end up lucky. I’m able to find my way to the road a fair distance ahead of the flames.

I have a better vantage point up here. Looking down I notice, with some relief, the fire seems more concentrated on the north side of Quarry Road than it is on the south side, where Dana’s house is. Her driveway, which is about a quarter mile or so long, puts her property even farther from the road. That’s a good thing.

Of course, all it would take is a slight shift in the wind, or a couple of stray sparks to drift in the wrong direction, and all bets are off, but for now I’m a little more hopeful.

Even more so when I hear sirens in the distance a moment later. Satisfied help is on the way, I turn my back on the fire and start jogging up the mountain.

I could hear the sound of a chainsaw before I could see where it was coming from. I find Dana, on the other side of the barn, trying to cut the thick trunk of an old maple tree beside it. My mother is between the barn and the house, holding a garden hose and attempting to hit the roof with the stream of water.

She sees me first.

“Rico!” She drops the hose and comes running.

Stopping right in front of me, she lifts her hand to my face. “Mi hijo, are you okay?”

“Ma, I’m good.”

I take her hand and give it a squeeze before turning my attention to Dana, who is still hacking away at the tree trunk, apparently oblivious to my arrival.

“Dana,” I call out as I approach.

The moment she sees me, she lowers the chainsaw. She looks almost bewildered, like she can’t quite figure out what I’m doing here. I take the saw from her hand and shut off the engine before setting it on the ground. The next moment I have my arms full of Dana, her face shoved in my neck.

“How did you get here?” she finally asks when she comes up for air.

“Hiked up from the road. What are you doing?”

She looks over her shoulder at the marred trunk of the maple.

“It’s the closest tree to the buildings. I figure I’d work my way out from there—I didn’t know what else to do—but the damn thing won’t cut.”

“You had the right idea.” I don’t bother telling her the way she was cutting it would’ve landed the damn tree on her barn. “It looks like the fire may be heading north though, hopefully away from us, and I’m pretty sure the fire department just arrived.”

“I hope so. I tried to get your mother to leave,” Dana mentions. “I told her to drive up the road to the quarry, that she’d probably be safe from the fire there, even if it came up that far, but she wouldn’t go.”

The quarry is not a bad idea. It’s a big open area with little to burn, and any buildings are far enough removed from the tree line. It’s also farther away from the fire. It would be a safe place to hole up until we know the fire department has things under control.

“Good plan. Let’s go.”