"Got it." Shane slammed on his brakes, and I rolled my window down. "Hop in!"
"Thank you," they both said, getting in the car. Their faces were white and the woman was crying and shaking.
"Our car stalled out," the man explained. "I thought...." He didn't finish.
"It's gonna be fine," I told them.
Shane kept driving.
Chapter five
Shane
I don't know how Mike did it, staying as calm and cool as he did. He said he'd only been on the job a few weeks, but damn, you'd never know it. He exuded confidence as he gave directions and kept everyone moving. You only had to look at him and feel your panic ebb away. Mine, definitely. But I'd seen it on the faces of the people on that road too. He made them feel like someone was in charge. And we all need that when we're scared.
I could only do what I did today because Mike was there. He made me feel stronger. Plus, I figured if he could take the heat, I could too. Literally. I trusted him to know when we absolutely had to get the hell out of there.
They say there are no atheists in foxholes—I'd add no strangers either. I felt more connected to Mike than I had to people I'd known for years, even Roland, my bff at Sac State. And it wasn't just Mike either. As I pulled up at the boat rentals, I recognized people. All these folks were connected to me now too—faces glimpsed through windows, people who'd asked me questions. Our little band of survivors was kind of a thing. At least I hoped that's what we were: survivors.
I'd gotten up within sight of that downed tree on the road—a huge evergreen, which was still smoldering. And I was pretty sure all the cars blocked by it had gotten turned around, or at least had the opportunity to. Hopefully, they'd all made it to the boat launch by now. It sure looked like it.
The boat launch had been deserted when we'd arrived with Pops. Now it was a scene. Cars, SUVs, and pickups were parked all over the grass because the lot was full, so I pulled up as close to the water as I could. There were so many boats out, it looked like a regatta. People had mostly stayed close to the shore, just hanging out in the vessels. Pops waved to me from his boat, looking relieved to see me. I waved back.
More people stood on the dock or shore, waiting. Everyone was turned toward the east end of the lake. As Mike and I jogged to the dock from the car, I followed their gaze. The woods at the east end of the lake were on fire. That was the end closest to town. Oh my God.
"Excuse me!" An older man walked up to Mike. He pointed to a frail woman in a white terrycloth sweatshirt. "There are no more boats, and the water's cold. There's no way my wife'll survive being submerged in that water for very long. She has cancer."
Yikes. I realized he was right. All the boats were gone. Only a few SUP boards remained, leaning up against the rentals shack.
Mike looked around at the boats in the water, and then at the people on the beach. He looked so tired suddenly. What did people expect from him? Miracles? He was just one firefighter.
But Mike nodded and walked to the edge of the water. He lowered his mask and did a loud whistle with two fingers to get everyone's attention. He shouted. "Listen up! Everyone stay low! As low as you can so you inhale less smoke. If you have room in your boat, please come back and pick up passengers! Or if you're young and healthy, and can tolerate standing in the water for a while, please give your boats to those who can't."
I grimaced. Nice try, but I doubted anyone would give up their boats or even take on more people and risk getting too heavy. Every man for himself, right? The American way. Other than Pops—and, well, Mike—very few people had ever helped me. Not even my own parents.
To my surprise, several boats started rowing in. Mike asked the people onshore to only take space in a boat if they couldn't make it standing in the water. A woman with an infant got onto a canoe being rowed by a young couple, and the older couple that had approached Mike got onto another canoe with an older man.
Pops didn't row in. He saw me looking at him and pointed to me, then to his canoe. He was saving his space for me. Check that, me and Mike.
Two young guys returned a paddle boat, hopping off onto the beach. "You can have this. We're gonna swim."
"You guys rock," I said. "Seriously. Thanks a lot."
One of them, a guy with red hair, ripped his shirt over his head. "We're gonna swim over to the public beach. There's a floating dock out in the water over there. It'll probably hold, like, twenty-five, thirty people. You should send people who can swim over there."
"Oh yeah!" I said. "Hey. Mike!"
He looked at me and came over. He stood pretty damn close, like maybe he needed a little support right then. I told him about the floating dock. "The beach area is just around that bend." I pointed to an outcropping with trees that blocked the view of the beach.
"It's not far," said the redhead. "You could swim from here. Or send people around by the road to beach parking."
"That's great info. Thank you." Mike gave them a grateful smile that dazzled. Well, it dazzled me anyway. He turned to announce this to the people waiting, and most of them headed to their cars and pulled out to go to the beach. The redhead and his friend took off swimming.
Suddenly, the dock area was empty. The smoke was getting so thick it was hard to breathe. And it was getting hotter here, too, as hot as it'd been on the road.
Pops rowed up. "You two—get in the boat."
Mike's expression was conflicted. He suddenly looked exhausted, but he glanced around, as if searching for more people to save. He was so fucking responsible. But I was getting light-headed from the smoke and heat and coughing more and more. We needed to get away from the shore now. It was time someone saved Mike.
I grabbed his sleeve. "C'mon.” Cough, cough “It's time."
He looked at me, his eyes troubled. "What if there are still people out there?"
"You did everything you could." Gah, I could barely speak.
"I can swim."
"Cool. But there's space in the boat and no one else waiting for it. So c'mon!"
We got in the canoe with Pops. I tried to take the oar, but Pops threatened to bonk me over the head with it. "You just rest, ya heathen. I've been sittin' here doing nothing while you've been heroing."
"That's not a word. Are you okay, Pops? What about the smoke?" He was still wearing his mask, but the smoke was awful.
"I'm fine! What about you?" Pops looked me over, worried. "Did ya get burned?"
"I'm good."
As Pops rowed us away from the shore, there were gasps and cries from other boats. I turned to see the rental shack going up in flames. Damn! That had happened fast. Beyond the shack, the fire was in the woods on the other side of the parking lot, heading for the state park road. It moved so fast. A car caught fire. They'd probably all go, including poor Mable, but at least they were empty.
Please, God. Let everyone be safe.
As I watched, the wind gusted, the fire roared, and the air burned my face and my throat. I started coughing and couldn't stop. It felt like there was nothing in the air but smoke. I hacked and hacked. Mike shouted for Pops to get down and grabbed me. He pulled me down into the bottom of the canoe.