“Come on,” Eli calls over my head. “This is close enough.”
“No way,” Tess says. “Let’s keep going.”
“It’s getting dangerous, Tess.”
“I think you mean it’s getting good.”
“Jesus Christ,” Eli mutters. “It’s a fucking fire.” I don’t think he means me to hear, but I’m glad I do, and when he sends us riding after her, I feel a little better, always more comfortable in the breath of a fight.
He’s right, anyway. Tess is acting like this is all happening a hundred miles from her, like it’s a movie, a dream. It would unsettle me if I didn’t feel almost the same way. Out of my body, all in my head, just wanting and worry.
We keep going. The sky closer and closer, dropping to wrap us in bitter gray, until I can actually feel the fire against my skin, a heartbeat of heat; can hear the rush of the burn in my ears and the wind carrying it toward us as Eli pedals after Tess, her ponytail streaming behind her.
Up ahead, the road widens to a gravel shoulder that juts into the corn. Tess swerves onto it, and Eli follows her, braking so hard I tip off the handlebars.
“Sorry,” he mutters, but I’m not paying attention, because from here I can see the fire. Maybe half a mile out, maybe less. Ripping through the farmland like a bullet, pushed by the wind.
For all the time I’ve spent with a lighter against my palm, this isn’t any fire I know. Wild and bright and red, red, red, and it drifts up off the crops in waves before breaking, crashing in a spray of spark and ash.
“Shit,” Eli says. “Guys, we should go.”
Tess leaves us behind, steps right up to the edge of the gravel. The fields drop off on either side of the highway, dipping to a ditch before stretching out flat. From here we can see over the top of the corn, can watch the fire take more of the earth with every minute.
“Where’s the fire department?” I ask. “Shouldn’t they be here?”
Tess has her thumbnail between her teeth, scraping at the underside of it until she swallows, and I forget to look away.
“It’ll take them a while,” she says, “if they show up at all.” Shoots me a grin, no hint of sympathy or anything close to it. “Nielsen land isn’t high priority.”
“Is this all Vera’s?”
Tess nods. “The house is that way.” She points toward the fire, and the air’s too clouded for me to see anything, but she keeps going. “Out near mine.”
“Will your house be okay?”
I expected her to care about her own, at least, but she just shrugs and says, “Probably,” like she hasn’t really thought about it until right now. “The wind’s taking it toward town anyway.”
Eli steps up next to her. My stomach sinks as he drapes his arm over her shoulders, tugging at her until she leans against him. Are they together? Or is this just how people can be?
I look away, stare out over the fire. This is where my mother came from. And somewhere behind all this is a woman who wants me.
That’s when I see it. A twitch in the corn, rippling, and the flash of something pale in the sweep of yellow and gold. I squint hard, try to make out any shape through the smoke. For a long moment, there’s nothing, just my own breathing and the trip of my heart, but then there it is again.
“Do you see that?” I say. “I think someone’s out there.”
“What?” Eli says.
I barely hear him. It is; it’s someone, out in the crops, fire tumbling toward them. Too slow. They’re moving too slow, if they’re moving at all. They won’t make it to safety.
I’m breaking for them before I realize it. Scrambling down the bank, gravel pouring down the slope with me. The corn sways and crackles, beckoning me, and I can hear Eli calling out, but somebody needs help.
I crash in, leaves snapping against my raised arms, stalks bending, arching over my head to close out the sky. The air thick and thicker with ash, and I can’t remember where I saw it, that slip of skin, of someone. It already hurts to breathe too deeply, the smoke sliding like water down my throat.
“Hello?” I yell, before my voice dries up. No answer, or nothing I can hear, so I keep on. Heat coming in, screaming up my skin, the fire rolling like fog. Already my arms are red, already my mouth is dry and thirsty. It would be smart to go back. It would be smart to never have come here at all.
Instead I crouch, peer through the gathering smoke. I’m farther out than I realized, closer to the burn, and the ground is warm where I press my palms into it, leaning on them to get a better look, because there it is, just like I thought. A person, sprawled on their side, and it’s a girl, a girl with long dark hair, and she’s not moving.
“Hey!” I yell, crawling forward. Thirty yards away, maybe. I can’t stand back up, not if I mean to keep breathing. The sky blotted out overhead, my lungs catching closed. Closer now. The girl’s skin is too pale, and her body too still. “Can you hear me?”
She’s wearing a dress, faded and too small for her, seams stretching and pulling across her ribs. Finally I’m near enough to touch her. I reach out, palms stained ash-black, and shake her arm. She doesn’t move.
“Are you okay? Hello?”
The fire cracks, hisses and spits, and I throw my arm up to keep a spray of sparks from my eyes. The wind is carrying it too quickly—if I don’t move soon, my way back to the road will be cut off, and I’ll be trapped. But I can’t leave her here. I don’t know who she is or how she got out here; I just know I can’t leave her.
I get to my feet, my body bent in half to keep out of the smoke, but it’s no use. My tongue fuzzy with the taste of it, my eyes watering. I grab her hand, hold my shirt over my mouth with my other hand, and pull as hard as I can. Her body jerks toward me. Hair falling across her face, gauzy air clinging to the shape of her. I try again, only manage to get her a few inches farther before I have to let go and catch my breath.
She’s too heavy, and the smoke is too thick, and I need help. I can’t do this on my own. Most everything I can, but this is too much. The fire is too close. I cannot do this by myself.
“Hey!” I yell over my shoulder. “Eli! Someone!”
There’s a shout, and I turn to see Eli’s tall figure coming through the gray, his elbow raised to shield his face.
“You’ve been out here too long,” he calls, and I could cry. Somebody came after me.
“There’s a girl,” I say. He closes the last distance, his eyes red, a streak of soot across his cheek. “I think she’s hurt.” Or worse, but that doesn’t matter. “You have to help me carry her.”