Primal Threat (34 page)

Sighting a small boulder on the left side of the road, Zak ran toward it, pushing his bike, vaulting up onto the rock and leaping onto the saddle. He’d already put the bike into the second lowest gear in expectation of something like this and was able to power through the dead spots at the top and bottom of his pedal stroke as he slowly picked up speed. As soon as he got into a rhythm, the fire leaped forward and began roaring down his neck. He’d gotten just enough distance by hopping on his bicycle that the heat didn’t take him down immediately. He could smell hair sizzling. No matter what happened, he wasn’t going to give up. He would ride until the tires on the bike exploded. He wasn’t going to give up.

The wind picked up and began blasting him from left to right, just hard enough to take some of the heat off him.

Deep down he knew if he stopped for even a second or two the fire would overtake him and he would drop onto the road like the others. Getting back onto the bike when he did had been a stroke of luck. He no longer felt his legs cramping. He was now in a position he’d assumed for hundreds, if not thousands, of hours every year, and his body knew it well.

He quickly gained enough ground on the fire so that he was no longer breathing superheated air. The atmosphere around him remained hot and smoky, but at least his lungs could extract minimal amounts of oxygen. He was now moving at the same speed as the fire. Without realizing it, he’d been growing more and more hypoxic. His legs ached, his lungs burned, and he felt as if he was going to faint, but he kept riding. With all his troubles, he was reeling in Kasey, who increased his tempo as they both crossed from the dry ground to the previously charred section of the mountain where the two bodies lay.

When Kasey came upon the first body, he slowed momentarily, stared in disbelief, then picked up speed. Like a child rushing past a haunted house, he bypassed the second body without looking at it and kept running through the charred tunnel of smoldering, sticklike snags. At this rate it wasn’t going to take long for him to reach the untouched part of the hillside, where he would once again be vulnerable to the escalating firestorm behind them.

By the time Zak caught him, they were only yards from exiting the charred section. “Stop,” Zak shouted. “Stop right here.” He knew that there was no fuel here, that the fires had already consumed everything they could. Kasey was not going to stop.

Pulling alongside, he overlapped his handlebars with Kasey’s hips and began leaning against him until they both veered toward the right-hand side of the road, wobbling and tilting. Together, they went over in a heap, Zak’s bike on top of the mess. “What the hell are you doing?” Kasey screamed, as he fought to extricate himself.

“Stay here!”

“Like hell. Are you nuts?”

“Are you?”

“Did you see those bodies?”

“They got cooked from the burning trees. You see any trees here with the potential to flare up?”

Kasey ceased struggling. “Trees?”

“There’s nothing left to burn here. We go up where all those live trees are and we’ll end up looking like charcoal briquettes. This is perfect. It’s like we set our own back burn.”

“What?”

“There’s no fuel here. Nothing left to burn. Now sit still, and maybe you’ll live through this.”

60

Six hours later

H
e’d been dozing, drifting in and out of consciousness, in one of those patient gowns with the open back. His left shoulder had enough white Silvadene cream on it that he could just glimpse it with his peripheral vision. He hadn’t been here long, because there were no get-well cards or balloons, just a half-open door. For a long while he lay still, taking in his surroundings, listening: visitors traipsing up and down the hallway, a wheeled cart rolling past the door. He knew he’d taken a helicopter ride. He knew men in brown uniforms had asked questions and he knew he’d closed his eyes without replying. Vaguely, he remembered that the doctors and nurses at Harborview had been fussing over him because he was a firefighter. Somebody had asked if he needed pain meds. He couldn’t remember how much he’d taken, but it was enough that he could barely feel his burns. He could barely feel anything.

He was wondrous and grateful to be out of the mountains, even more wondrous that he was still alive. He’d never been so grateful, and questioned whether it all hadn’t been somehow enhanced by the drugs freewheeling through his bloodstream. It took many long minutes to realize he had a line in his left arm and a nasal cannula pushing oxygen through his nostrils. Down the corridor he heard a television playing the evening news. Somebody turned the sound louder. The story involved people being rescued from the mountains in the middle of one of the worst fire seasons in western Washington history. He knew he was one of those people. The only part he caught before a car commercial was “officials have verified at least two deaths. There may be more.”

Which bodies had they found? he wondered. There was no telling how many died in the end. The fact was, he couldn’t recall for sure whether Muldaur and Giancarlo had made it. He knew they’d reached the top of the mountain, but that didn’t mean they were alive now. The fire had been so entirely unpredictable.

A dark figure stood in the doorway for half a minute before Zak took cognizance of it. The figure had Silvadene smeared over various parts of his body and was draped in an oversize hospital gown similar to Zak’s. “Hey, buddy. Through with your nap?”

“They must have doped me,” Zak said, tasting the dryness in his throat. He wondered how long it had been since he’d spoken.

“If I remember right, you were asking for the formula so you could mix up a batch at home.”

“Was I?”

“You were dopier than hell. You and Kasey, I guess, ended up hiding in some hot rocks when it blew over the last time. You got some contact burns from the rocks on the road, but other than that it’s just smoke inhalation for the both of you.”

“Is he all right?”

“Don’t worry. Your girlfriend’s brother made it. He’s up the hall telling the county sheriff ’s investigator all about us. They keep looking at me. They came in here once, but we got the doctor to throw them out. The doctors were going to put you in the hyperbaric chamber for smoke inhalation, but at the last minute decided against it. Actually, I believe they only have one chamber at their disposal, and it’s already full.”

“Who’s in it?”

“Stephens. Jennifer. And a nurse who’s looking after them.”

“Jennifer made it?”

“Yeah. Stephens. Jennifer. Kasey. They all made it.”

“Anybody else?”

“You, me, and Giancarlo.”

“You’re going to have to help me out with the math here.”

“There are six dead or missing. Chuck, Morse, and Ryan Perry we already knew were dead. Bloomquist, Fred, and Scooter are missing, but they found two bodies they haven’t identified. So we’re not sure who else is dead.”

“What’s Kasey telling them?”

“They won’t let me close enough to listen.”

“You talk to them yet?”

“The sheriff? Yeah. It was a little tense. Apparently our story doesn’t match up with everything else he’s been hearing.”

“What happened with Stephens?”

“I heard a couple of the deputies talking, and I have a feeling he’s aligned himself with the other side.”

“Saying what?”

“I don’t know.”

“How’s Giancarlo?”

“A few burns and smoke inhalation like the rest of us. That man’s got the constitution of a horse.”

“He was like that in drill school, too…You haven’t talked to Stephens?”

“No. He and Jennifer went on the first flight. Giancarlo and I went later. You and Kasey didn’t get picked up until way late. For a while there, we all thought you were dead.”

“Were you sad?”

“I had to ask for a second box of Kleenex to wipe my eyes. Why’d you go back?”

“I didn’t feel I had a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Not if you’re me.”

“Zak, you’re a better man than I am. No way was I going back down that mountain. I just couldn’t believe I was watching you disappear into that smoke again. A little while after you left, the fire blasted up the road like a blowtorch, and I figured it had taken you out. Then on our way out we flew along the road, and there were two bodies facedown in the road. I thought one of them had to be you.”

“It was probably Bloomquist and Scooter. They were in the middle of the road. They got caught trying to outrun it. I’m guessing Fred did, too. Probably up the spur road.”

“Thought you might like to know, Nadine showed up awhile ago. She’s down the hall with her brother and the rest of the family.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for her. Six dead. Jesus.”

“Yeah.” Noises in the corridor grew louder and then receded. A minute later people passed by speaking in whispers. Zak recognized Nadine’s voice. Muldaur was fumbling with the controls for the television to search for news reports about the fire when a figure darkened the doorway: Nadine Newcastle in tennis shorts and an off-white blouse, her hair pulled into a ponytail. The three of them looked at one another wordlessly before Muldaur said, “I’ll leave you alone.”

“That’s not necessary,” Zak said.

“See you later.” Muldaur squeezed past Nadine, letting in more light as he swung the door wide. After they were alone, Nadine pushed the door closed with her fingertips.

“I want to thank you for what you did for Kasey.”

“Did he tell you?”

“Actually, I pieced it together. He hasn’t said anything about that part of it. You were safe, and then you went back down and got him, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Whatever else takes place, I want to thank you for that. From the bottom of my heart. Zak, you’ve got more guts than anybody I’ve ever met.”

“Not really.”

“I’m just so glad he made it. And you, too.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.” Close to tears, she clasped her hands in front of herself and watched his eyes. It was a long time before either of them broke the silence.

Finally, Zak said, “What?”

“I just…I just want to know where I can kiss you where it won’t hurt.”

Zak contorted his face in what he hoped was a humorous way and pointed to a spot on his cheek until, grinning, she came close and planted a kiss. As soon as she pulled away, he pointed to another spot, which she kissed, then another. The game went on until she got Silvadene on her lips and had to wipe it off with a corner of the bedsheet. At that point she took his hand, sat in a chair beside his bed, and glanced at the doorway with a fleeting look of guilt. “I can’t stay.”

“You just got here.”

“Kasey’s going to find out where I am and throw a fit. My father’s out there trying to make sense of it, but Kasey’s story keeps changing in subtle ways. The sheriff says it doesn’t match what you guys said. They’re…they’re calling you guys liars and all kinds of other names.”

“I bet they are.”

“Zak…”

“Would you like my side in a nutshell?”

“That’s what I was going to ask.”

He gave it to her, thinking it through slowly as he tried to get his brain engaged with the process. The longer he spoke, the more rigid and tense her body became. When he was finished, she didn’t ask any questions. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one, though he’d done his best to include all of the pertinent details and head off any questions she might be entertaining.

“They’re talking lawyers and jail time for you guys and, if criminal charges don’t pan out, civil suits. Kasey said you’re the reason Scooter is missing.”

“Scooter’s not missing. He’s dead.”

“Oh, my God. Are you sure?”

“I saw him. He’s dead.”

“Oh, Lord. We knew he was missing, and we knew there was a good chance he was gone, but…Oh, my God.”

“Nobody wanted anybody dead.”

“No matter what Kasey says, I know you didn’t do anything wrong. And you went back for him. Anyway, I came to tell you nothing between us has changed in my mind. At least I don’t think it has. But I have to think all this through. I have to hear the rest of Kasey’s story.”

“Nadine, I love you.”

“I know you do. And I love you.”

“Your family’s probably going to—”

“Shush,” she said, touching a finger to his lips.

“Nadine?” The voice from the hallway was her mother’s. “Nadine?”

She stood up beside the bed but didn’t turn away. “Nadine,” he whispered. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Oh, Zak.” She held his look for a long time. “I’m not sure that’s going to be possible.”

After Nadine left, a sheriff ’s deputy spoke to Zak. “I know it was confusing up there, and from what I gather your two groups were pitted against each other,” said the deputy, Tom Mathers, a tall, reedy young man who’d walked into the room bouncing on the balls of his feet. “The way I’m seeing it, their stories are going all over the place—especially this guy, Stephens—but you three have remained constant. To me that either means you got together and rehearsed a script, or you’re telling the truth.”

“It’s the truth,” said Zak. “I’m a little too dopey to be remembering lines. The truth is all I’ve got right now.”

“I’ll tell you one thing. And you can bank on this. You boys ever get involved in anything like this again, anytime, anywhere, I swear I’m going to come and dog you. You won’t get away with it a second time.”

“We didn’t get away with anything the first time.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. We’re still looking into it.”

When Stephens caught them at the nurses’ station the next morning, Muldaur’s wife, Rachel, was alongside them. The plan was for Rachel to drive Zak and Muldaur to North Bend, where they would recover their parked vehicles at Stephens’s house and caravan back into Seattle. Stephens was still in a hospital gown; Muldaur and Zak were in clothing brought by Muldaur’s wife.

Stephens had dark circles under his eyes and Silvadene cream on his ears and along one side of his neck. Other than that, he appeared in perfect health, probably the result of a night in the hyperbaric chamber. “What’d you tell the deputies?” Stephens asked.

“Nothing but the truth, the whole truth,” Muldaur said, giving a salute and lapsing into his Hugh voice. “Why? What did you tell them?”

“Well, uh, of course…I told them…the story of what happened, obviously. I’m just wondering. I mean,
exactly
what did you tell them?”

“Exactly?”
said Muldaur, still posing as Hugh. Rachel, who was almost as tall as her husband, gave him an indulgent look. “
Exactly?
That would be good…to know exactly. Wouldn’t it?”

“I think so,” said Stephens.

“Okay. We’ll tell you what we said.
Exactly.
” Muldaur stepped back and crossed his arms.

After a few moments, Stephens said, “Well?”

“You first.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You tell us what you said—
exactly
—and we’ll tell you what we said.
Exactly.
”

“Well, I, uh…you know. I told them what happened. You know…pretty much…yeah, I told them the whole story from beginning to end.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Muldaur, turning his back on Stephens and walking away. Zak and Rachel followed.

Stephens called after the trio. “We’ll have to get together in a week or so. You know. Talk things over. Compare notes. Go out to dinner with our wives.” He looked at Zak. “Bring your girlfriend.”

“You’ve got to be kidding, right?”

“Well, fine. Yeah. How about you?” Stephens looked at Muldaur.

“I don’t fucking think so.”

The next day fire crews on the mountain recovered six corpses. Within twenty-four hours the medical examiner’s office determined that Chuck Finnigan’s blood-alcohol level at the time of his death would have qualified him as a drunk driver if he’d been in a car. Scooter and Fred Finnigan had been drinking all day, too, because they were both legally drunk when they died almost eight hours after Chuck.

The case against Zak and the others crumbled after the autopsy results. The prosecutor’s office said it came down to one very coherent story matched up against another set of stories that had already diverged in several instances and was obviously heavily influenced by alcohol. He didn’t believe a jury was going to buy their claims. The prosecutors said if they’d been inclined to prosecute at all—which they weren’t—they would have built a case against Jennifer Moore and Kasey Newcastle, the only survivors from that camp, for accessory to murder. But they didn’t.