What if no one could come?
Worst-case scenario, I’d go on foot. How many miles to the house? Hopefully I wouldn’t have to find out. I needed my phone, which of course was still in the car. I’d been charging it via the cigarette lighter.
The airbag made it impossible to see, so I grabbed a sharp stick and jabbed to no avail. The material was tougher than it looked. I wiggled my arm and part of my upper body past the air bag, reaching between the seats for my phone and found my purse instead. I grasped the worn leather strap and yanked.
Of course, it got caught. As my fingers blindly worked to free it, the smell of gasoline intensified to the point I was blinking my eyes and feeling lightheaded. My purse yanked free, and I couldn’t help but utter a triumphant, “Aha!”
A second rummage past the air bag and I found my phone and held it aloft. My smile turning to a frown as I saw the power indicating it was down to its last five percent. I’d not thought to charge it all day, and the short car ride hadn’t done much to help it.
Oops.
Surely, I’d have enough juice for one call. But who? I scrolled through my contacts. Marjorie and Trish were on a date, as was Winnie. It seemed presumptuous to make Darryl come all the way out here. As my next-door neighbor, Jace technically counted as the closest, but I hated asking him for anything, and I didn’t actually have his phone number, nor did he seem like the type to be listed.
Still, just in case, I spent two percent of my battery trying to locate a number for him. Failed. I had three percent left and a crushed car that wouldn’t go anywhere without a—
“Tow truck!” I’d call for a tow and have the driver drop me off at the house.
I rang the first number that came up on my search. It rang once. Twice. After the third, it went to voicemail, and before I could leave a message, my phone died.
I glared at it. Seriously? “Fuck off!” The potty language spilled from me. The only thing truly strong enough to commemorate the moment.
Some days, I hated technology. Stupid stuff never worked when you needed it.
A gust of cold wind caressed me with icy fingers. It rustled the branches of the trees. Whispered to me. Enjoy the walk.
Ugh.
Not how I wanted to end my day. I should grab my jacket because it would be chilly. The pungent aroma of gas had gone past the point of strong smelling to downright nauseating. Could a person die from breathing in too many fumes? Or would I just get high? I definitely wouldn’t be lighting any matches.
I tucked my face inside my shirt and ran to the passenger side to grab my jacket. Opening the door, I saw the airbag hadn’t deployed on that side and would have been an easier choice to snare my phone.
My jacket lay in plain sight. As I grabbed it, I heard a noise. The crunch of something stepping on leaves in the woods.
Whirling with my coat clutched in front of me, because it made such a good shield, I stared blindly. The headlights made it impossible for me to penetrate the gloom—meanwhile I was highlighted like a stripper on stage.
Probably a raccoon or a forest animal. Nothing to worry about. Unless it was a killer zombie beaver. I was pretty sure I’d seen them using the downed tree trick in a horror movie I’d watched a few years ago. Great big teeth, gnawing wood to a pulp and then shoving the tree over to trap victims for them to devour.
Not the best thing to remember in the woods, at night.
“Go away,” I said in a tremulous voice. Not scary at all and yet I’d been taught most animals would avoid humans. Scurry away.
Unless it was a cougar. Cougars ate people.
The big bucks with their tined horns would gore.
And moose tossed humans around like ragdolls.
Why couldn’t I imagine the woodland animals as cute and fuzzy and gentle?
Holding my breath, I listened. Nothing moved or made crunchy noises. The wind licked past my cheeks, coldly chuckling.
A shiver racked me. I needed to stop standing around. I’d freeze to death if I didn’t get somewhere warm. And at this point, that meant my house. How far from here was it?
I turned from the forest to give my car one last look. I slammed the passenger door shut for no reason other than it seemed sloppy to leave it open. In the window’s reflection, I didn’t see much other than a fireball arcing toward me.
As I turned to gape—because that’s what my dumb ass does in emergency situations—I had time to think, That’s it. I’m dead. The newspaper blurb would read: Fried Like a Chicken but Smelled Like Bacon.
Just before it would have lit me like a firecracker on the Fourth of July, something slammed into me and I hit the ground as the world around me went up in a fiery whoosh.
5
Face down on the dirt and gravel, I had time to reflect on a few things. First, the stupidity of not moving away from a car leaking gasoline.
Second, the fact the ground was hard.
And third, was it me, or had it gotten hot outside?
I didn’t need to see the fire to feel it. The acrid smoke tickled the nose and lungs. The heat warmed the bottoms of my shoes.
As for the body on top of me acting like a shield? Kind of heavy. Whoever it was squashed me into the ground, but considering the alternative? Happy they tackled me.
“Are you injured?” The word rumbled against my ear, penetrating the ringing I’d not even realized muffled my hearing. It was Jace, my neighbor.
“I’m okay. I think.” Pretty sure I shouted the words.
He shifted off of me, and I managed to push myself to my knees and stand up, dirty and a bit bruised but not bleeding from anywhere, nor did I appear to be on fire. Unlike my car.
I stared at it, the dancing flames. The realization that my ride was totaled. How would I go anywhere? Thoughts of shopping for a new vehicle kept my mind from the fact I’d almost died.
“What happened?” Jace asked, surveying the wreck.
“A tree fell on my car, and then it caught fire.” Seemed pretty obvious to me. The part I remained less clear about was my hazy recollection of seeing a flaming projectile flying through the air.
Had someone set the fire on purpose?
Who?
I eyed Jace, who had his thumbs hooked through the loops of his jeans, his quilted lumberjacket open over the chest on a solid color button-up shirt. How coincidental he happened to be in this spot.
“Why are you here?” I blurted out.
“I live down the road. Remember?”
“And you went for a ten-mile walk?” I couldn’t help the suspicion.
“My truck is parked right there.” He pointed to his vehicle. Odd how I’d not spotted it until that moment. “I was on my way into town when I saw your car crushed under that tree. I thought I’d offer a hand.”
“How come I didn’t see your lights?”
“Soon as I saw you were in trouble, I dimmed mine so as to not blind anyone.”
He had a plausible excuse. Even better, he had wheels, meaning I wouldn’t have to walk. Or I could keep acting like a suspicious bitch until he left.
“Thanks for stopping.”
“Have you called the accident in?” he asked, leading me away from the dancing flames.
“No. My phone died.”
“I’ll text the town’s emergency line. Let them know about the accident and fire. They’ll get a crew out here to handle it.”