Escaping the fire.
Oh. Oh hell. All the wildlife. It made my heart hurt.
"There!" Mike shouted.
The lake had come into view. It looked like an impressionist painting—the sky all hazy with gray and red streaks where the sun tried to break through, the water choppy in the wind. You couldn't see the other side of the lake—it lay beyond a bank of smoke, like in that Carpenter movie, The Fog. And now I got why that was so fucking scary.
"Boat rentals! Fantastic!" Mike said.
The boats hadn't gone to storage for the winter, thank God. Canoes, paddle boats, kayaks, and SUP board surrounded the little Rentals shack, which was closed.
I screeched to a stop in the boat rentals parking lot, and Mike and I hopped out. We ran over to the dock. The kayaks and canoes were in racks on the dock, the paddle boats in the water, tied to hooks on the dock. The SUP boards were to the side of the rental shack, with a cable lock linked through them.
"No oars," I said.
"Shane! Come back here and get me my chair!" Pops hollered. He was standing up, leaning against the car.
"I'll be back." I raced for the car. Pops's bluster was a facade for fear, and I knew that.
But for the first time that morning, my own fear fell away and relief poured in. We were going to be okay. We had this huge lake, and boats, which meant we weren't going to burn to death, at the very least, no matter how bad the fire got. Thank you, God.
I got Pops's chair, made sure he had his bag and mask, and wheeled him over to the dock. Mike was at the shack. He used his elbow to break the glass in the door. Then he reached in and unlocked it.
"Breaking and entering?" I asked, surprised.
"We need oars. And the lock to that cable." His expression was deadly serious.
I left Pops and went to help. We dragged out oars and life preservers, dropping them on the grass by the dock, and Mike found a ring of keys and went out and unlocked the SUPS and the kayak racks, which also had a cable lock.
We pulled out an aluminum canoe, carrying it between us off the dock and down to the little beach. I rolled Pops over, the wheels struggling in the sand.
"I can do it!" Pops insisted, trying to get out of the chair before I'd even stopped. My grandfather! I wondered if I'd be as crazy stubborn as him when I was his age. Oh, never mind. I already was.
We got him into the canoe and Mike handed him a paddle, then looked at me. "You go on. I'm gonna go back and direct traffic this way."
I looked at Pops. "Can you row by yourself?"
He made a face. "My hip was busted, not my arm! I'd like to see you beat me at padding."
"Maybe another time, Pops," I grinned. He was hilarious. "I'm gonna go help Mike."
"No, you're staying here." Mike used that hard-ass voice that was so sexy. "It's too dangerous. Fire can spread like a bomb."
He didn't have to say that the conditions looked ripe for that on the road, because I’d already sensed it.
"Then we'd better hurry and get those people out of there." I put my hands on my hips and jutted out my chin. "Two of us can talk to drivers faster than one."
"Son, arguing with Shane is like trying to lecture a tree," Pops advised. "Just hurry up and go if you're going. And keep my grandson safe!"
So we went.
Chapter four
Mike
I hadn't told Shane everything. There was no point making the guy any more freaked. But the situation was dire. Donny had been frantic the last time I'd radioed in. Shelter in a car if you have to. But if it looks at all possible, get the hell out of there, Mike! Don't be a hero. With the undercurrent being: I don't want to have to tell Mom you're dead.
Everything was going wrong with this fire. The smoke here was too thick for aircraft, so we had no air support to lay down retardant or give us a bird's eye view. After Chief made the call to open up both lanes of Highway 49 for outbound traffic, trying to ease the evacuation gridlock, the winds shifted and picked up. We'd lost control of the flare-up to the south. To the east, the wind had whipped up the main body of the Dixie Fire, and it'd swept into town like a freight engine, forcing us to pull back the line there. A couple of stations were now trying to save some of the buildings on the west end of town. So Highway 49 was shut off in that direction. Our only exit was Highway 49 westbound and that was stuck thanks to the downed tree. We were sitting ducks—Shane and I, and all the other people in vehicles on the highway.
I was fucking scared, if you want to know the truth. I'd had my training so I knew what to do on paper. But my teachers had also stressed how quickly things can turn lethal, and how even experienced crew could find themselves in a no-way-out situation. I'd already known that. I'd gone to a lot of fire fighter's funerals growing up. Everyone in the extended Canali clan was either a firefighter, had one as a sibling or parent, or was married to one.
But, it was what it was, and there was no way I was gonna cut and run, even if I could. Not on Shane and his grandfather. Not with all those people stuck on the road. And if that meant I bought it, then I guess I fucking did. I'd grown up in a family that saw public service as the highest good—a family that raised heroes. I was a fucking Canali.
At least I had a plan now.
I got on the radio while Shane drove. "Station 75 Gridley, this is Mike Canali. The end of the evacuation line is close to Crest Lake State Park, and they've got boat rentals there. Enough for maybe fifty people or more. It's pretty fucking hairy here, guys. No time to wait for that tree to be removed. Request permission to send drivers to the state park, get people out onto the water."
Chief came on the line. "Sounds like we're outta time. If you can get people to the lake, do it! I'll radio the chief in charge at the west end of town, see if they can send you some backup, but don't count on it. Out."
"Good idea, Mikey," came Donny's voice. "But don't take chances! Be safe! That's a fucking order from your bro. Out."
I hadn't expected them to agree quite so easily or sound so anxious. Which just confirmed that we were in the shit.
Shane pulled onto Highway 49. It didn't take long before we were at the back of the line of cars again. They hadn't moved.
"Pull over as far as you can," I ordered. There wasn't a lot of shoulder here, but Shane edged off the road as far as he could and parked.
I hopped out, Shane right behind me. It was blistering here. The smoke was heavy and hot, as if it held heat of its own. A dozen people were out of their cars, pacing, trying to get cell service, talking to each other, but I stopped and grabbed Shane's arm before we got any closer. "Wait."
He turned to look at me, a little frown between his brows.
"You should go back to the lake. It's too dangerous here. Please."
Shane blinked at me, looked over his shoulder at the people, then back at me. His chin jutted out with determination. "Mike, I'm not gonna scamper to safety like a rabbit and leave you to handle this all by yourself. I may not be much, but I'm what you've got. So let's do this."
I stared at him for a moment, wanting to argue. But remembering how he'd lain down on his grandfather's apartment floor, knowing it would be futile. I wasn't sure if he was incredibly brave and selfless or just a pain in the buttchikas.