When the Wind Blows - James Patterson [88]
I sniffed the air. The smell was noxious and I started to choke. As in my dream, the air was hot and black and stifling. I didn’t know if it was day or night, only that I’d fallen asleep by moonlight and now the moon was completely gone. I couldn’t see a thing, not even the sky, or the overhanging trees that had been there when I dropped off to sleep.
It was like being stricken blind. I was in a blanket of heavy, nearly black fog.
“Hello? Somebody?” I called out.
With sickening clarity, I understood how bad things really were. Smoke had completely obliterated the moon and sky, even the overhanging trees. Smoke was all around, choking me, blinding me, making it impossible to see more than a couple of feet in any direction. The woods were on fire.
Pip was barking, demanding that I follow him. I pushed myself up. Stumbled over stumps and rocks, calling, “Kit! Kit! Where are you? There’s a fire!”
He finally answered. “Here. Over here. The wind must have shifted.”
The fire was on us like that.
I still couldn’t locate Kit. I couldn’t see any of the kids either. My eyes stung and watered. My visibility was only about three or four feet. I felt trapped, claustrophobic, completely closed in.
I heard something. An elk. I was looking right into the huge animal’s eyes—glazed and frozen. It was as lost and afraid as I was. Then it pounded past me.
I could hear the fire now. It was a soft roar, seductive, almost melodic. Slowly, I began to see again. The smoke wasn’t as bad on slightly higher ground. The sky was turning red, brightened by the fire. Gazing north, I could see rows of withered, blackened trees on a distant hillside.
A nearby tree caught and burned with a loud whoosh. A huge limb crashed to the ground. Sparks flew high into the air, like big firecrackers exploding.
The fire had definitely turned with the wind. It must have been racing over the ground for the past few hours, gaining strength as it moved. Now the monster was big. Huge. They had gotten rid of all the evidence, hadn’t they? The school was long gone in the terrifying blaze.
I called out again.
This time I heard retching coughs. The kids were nearby. But where were they?
“Max? Icarus, Oz? Max?”
I saw Kit first. “I’ve got the twins,” he said, as he staggered out of the curtain of smoke. One twin was hoisted over each shoulder. He was strong.
Pip started to growl again. He bared his little teeth. His coat was already covered in soot and ash.
There was a shot. A flare of light. A gunshot in the middle of all of this. Where had it come from? What direction?
Another tree limb fell in a blaze of orange and gold sparks. Pip yelped.
“Let’s go. Let’s go!” Kit yelled.
We started to run for it.
Chapter 93
WENDY WAS WRAPPED tightly in my arms. We were managing to stay ahead of the raging, thundering fire so far. Most likely the rapidly shifting winds had pushed it away from us for the time being.
I was trying to get my bearings when I heard Max shout, “Look. Look out. More guards!”
I could see two men were poking around in the valley below us.
I was stunned. To my absolute shock, I recognized them. I knew both men standing down there. They were from Boulder Community Hospital. Colleagues of David’s.
The taller of the two was wearing a blue satin L.A. Dodgers baseball jacket, a cap, rimless glasses. He had salt-and-pepper hair and a full beard. The other man was shorter but weighed more, a Humpty-Dumpty in plaid shirtsleeves and baggy khakis.
The taller man was Dr. Michael Vaughan. He was in Neurology. The man with the spare tire was Bobby something. He was head nurse in the Ob-Gyn unit. I’d seen him at a party once, entertaining people with photos of babies whose deliveries he’d assisted. His babies, he’d called them.
They were David’s friends. We had socialized with them.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and it wasn’t from the smoke. It was the sense of betrayal I felt. Maybe they were just volunteers looking for survivors of the fire. It would be a great thing if Dr. Vaughan and Nurse Bobby were a couple of concerned citizens, wouldn