Summer of Fire - Linda Jacobs [118]
The eerie orange light deepened to the reddish-brown of dried blood. Clare had to remind herself that the air itself could not burst into flame. As more burning brands sailed sideways, it was apparent that even the relative haven of the parking lot was not a safe place.
Behind the Hamilton Store and the Snow Lodge, the top of a two hundred foot wall of flame hove into view. Clare stared at the monstrous apparition.
East and west, the North Fork burned there as well, its long tentacles encircling the inn. Where was Steve? He’d gone into the forest and there didn’t seem to be any part of it that wasn’t burning.
And where, oh God, was Devon?
The wind that had been blowing toward the blaze shifted and bore down more directly on the Inn. Clare felt as though she stood in front of an oven, reminding her of the day she and Javier had driven through the tunnel of flame at Grant Village.
Duncan Rowland turned to his car, opened the trunk and drew out a fire shelter.
Clare fingered the pouch on her belt. Surely, that wouldn’t be needed here on the parking lot, but the flame front was throwing up huge fireballs that raged for seconds before they disappeared. If one of them spotted forward . . . She shut her eyes, but she could still see the Hellroaring . . . no, it was the North Fork.
Eyes open, she pulled on her goggles from around her neck and fended off the flying bits of forest. Javier ran up to her and they both realized in the same instant that the crew protecting the Snow Lodge, Hamilton Store, and some storage buildings was woefully inadequate to the task. It was all she could do not to run away, but she hurried across the parking lot with Javier, toward the North Fork.
A cinder driven sideways by the wind caught her in the chest. As she brushed it off, she realized that if she had not been wearing Nomex, her clothing would have caught fire. She ran on toward what looked like the gaping mouth of Hades.
At the edge of the lot, she and Javier joined a pumper crew that was hooking up to a hydrant. “What can we do?” she shouted into the wind.
“Back us up!”
The men dragged the hose toward flaming trees not fifty feet from the nearest building. Clare and Javier made sure the line did not catch on the bumpers of the few cars still on the lot. If the inferno reached them, their gasoline tanks would add fuel.
The heat was worse here. She pulled her bandanna higher over her face and wished she were up front where the water was. The humidity from the spray would be welcome relief to her parched throat.
As fire torched the nearby pines, she realized that they would lose this battle within minutes. From here, the North Fork need only spot across the parking lot and the inn would be in flames.
“We need another line,” Clare told Javier. She ran toward an engine parked at the base of the inn. The roof sprinkler system came on, letting water wash down the sides of the building.
As Clare sprinted past the grounded helicopter, she realized that Deering was the pilot. She hurried on, gasping for breath.
Getting to the engine, she grabbed a firefighter’s arm. “Help us on the perimeter.”
The man’s eyes went wide behind his smudged visor. “Are you kidding? We’re to stay by the inn.”
Clare looked back the way she’d come and realized that the North Fork had reached the storage shed. In the same moment, she saw a ranger running toward the crew she had left. He waved his arms and shouted, pointing away from the shed.
It was clear that the person he was screaming at did not understand, so he balled his fists together and then threw his hands apart in a gesture that conveyed an explosion.
The crew began to run, leaving the perimeter abandoned. She could tell that Javier didn’t see her as he ran for the largest