Dan didn’t wait for the scientist to say anything when they landed. He met the chopper, ignoring the clouds of billowing dust kicked up by the rotor, jerking the door open and hauling out the disheveled Bates. He dragged the man away from the chopper. Once clear he yelled, “Where’s Libby?”
Trevor cringed before Wagner. His clothes were dirty and bedraggled, torn as he had sought to outrun the fire. He sobbed, his hands and arms bloodied by his flight through thickets and heavy brush. “I don’t know!” he wailed.
Dan’s eyes narrowed into angry slits as he grabbed Bates’s shoulders, shaking him. “What the hell do you mean, you don’t know, Bates? Did you leave her?” he roared.
Bates was a rag doll in Dan’s hands. “No! No! She was going to try to make it to Camp Three. I told her she was crazy! We didn’t stand a chance of making fifteen miles before that fire reached us!”
Dan’s eyes widened as though seeing a glimmer of hope. “Camp Three? Are you sure, Bates?”
“Yes, yes!”
Dan dragged him unceremoniously over to the radio tent, forcing Bates to stand up in front of the large map. “Show me your exact position when you left her,” he ordered.
Fingers trembling, Bates took several seconds to gather his scattered thoughts. “Here. We camped here last night. We were twelve miles south of my camp. She took the map and compass. She said she would take this route,” he muttered, tracing it shakily. Dan released Bates, letting him drop into a heap at his booted feet, then Dan turned his head, looking toward the fire. How long? How long before it reached Three? How close was Libby to the camp? There was a lake there.... If he could get to her, he might be able to save her life. The fire was too close to use a chopper to try to find her. The two-thousand-degree heat fanning outward from the fire was reaching a mile in advance of the main body of flames. It could possibly destroy the helicopter, causing more loss of life. Several plans whirled in his head. Grimly he started toward the US Forest Service command post.
* * *
L
IBBY FELT HER
legs turning rubbery and she stopped before she fell. It was 3:00 p.m. and she could feel the ovenlike heat of the fire on her back and legs. Animals of all sizes and kinds were now running past her, trying to escape the fury of the firestorm at their heels. Her face was blackened with dirt and sweat. Her body trembled from exhaustion. She had left her pack behind, realizing that it was slowing her down. Either she was going to outrun the fire or die in the next two hours. It wouldn’t matter if there was food to eat or not.
Her eyes teared from the smoke that encircled the tops of the trees. It was a deathly white fog. The heat was intense, even though the flames were still somewhere on the other side of the ridge she had climbed hours earlier. At first she had been frightened when deer, badgers and even black bears had raced by her. But they seemed to ignore the fact that she was a human being. Their panic only increased her own sense of despair. Every living thing was fleeing for its life. She panted, leaning down, trying to slow her heartbeat. After a while, she thought, I won’t be able to run any longer. And the animals won’t last forever, either. We’ll all die.
She slowly straightened up, pain written on her features. I don’t want to die! Dan! Oh, Dan, I love you, she screamed silently. Bitterly she wiped the tears from her eyes, beginning the treacherous trek down the last ridge. Somewhere on the valley floor ahead of her was Camp Three. She glimpsed a small blue lake from time to time, and the sight buoyed her sagging spirits. Libby sobbed for breath, pushed to the limits of her endurance. Just as she reached the bottom of the ridge, she stumbled. Her boot caught on a hidden tree root and she pitched forward, hands thrown outward to protect her. The earth rushed up to meet her, and then suddenly blackness closed in on her.
Libby moaned, pain stabbing through her head. Slowly she forced herself to her knees, pressing fingers against her left temple. The warm stickiness she felt was her own blood. She dazedly looked down, realizing she had landed on granite. The heat of the fire drew her attention. How long had she been unconscious? Her mouth was as dry as a cotton ball as she fought to stand. Weaving, Libby held her head, willing away the dizziness. How far did she have to go? Two miles? Maybe three at the most? The lake, a voice screamed inside her head. Get to the lake.
Semiconscious, acting out of sheer desperation, Libby began to run in the direction of the camp. Only one thought kept her from giving up: she loved Dan. They had to have the chance to make it work. She didn’t want to die knowing she loved him and without being able to tell him. Drunkenly she wove between the huge, thick trees, gasping, choking on the gathering smoke.
How far had she run? Libby’s legs finally gave out and she landed hard on her belly, sliding to an abrupt halt on the pine needles. Her lungs burned, feeling as if they were on fire. Her chest heaved with sobs as she lay there, unable to move an inch farther. What’s more, her legs were cramping, and she had run out of water long before and was nearing dehydration. Her jeans were torn and shredded by the brush and thickets, her arms cut and bleeding. Libby buried her head in her hands, crying with frustration. It wasn’t fair! She didn’t want to die this way. For the first time in her life she had found a man she could love with all her heart and soul, and now the future was going to be torn away from her. Tears squeezed out of her red-rimmed eyes and she sobbed heavily, her fingers digging into the pine needles in agony.
“Libby!”
She choked on a sob.
“Libby! Can you hear me?”
She raised her head. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Had she heard Dan’s voice? In her shock, had she made it up? Dazed, Libby got to her knees, unable to rise. She heard the snap and crackle of wood burning, the explosion of trees catching fire as the initial wave of heat began to sweep across the ridge. Blinking back her tears, Libby tried to see through the whitish smoke that now flowed like silent fingers of death through the trees around her.
“Libby!”
Her heart hammered in her chest. A sob escaped. “Here!” she croaked. Her voice was barely audible. Fighting against pain, exhaustion and dizziness, Libby forced herself to her feet, staggering in the direction of the male voice. Was it Dan? Was it? “I’m here!” she screamed, her voice cracking.
Libby suddenly halted, weaving unsteadily on her feet. There, like a dark apparition appearing out of the dense haze and smoke, was a man running toward her. She blinked unsurely, thinking she was seeing things. Her mind must have snapped. She must be imagining that it was Dan. As he closed the distance between them Libby’s confusion increased. He was wearing some sort of dark green flight suit and black boots. Why did he look like a pilot? Libby’s mind began to swim and she moaned, closing her eyes. It was too much. Too much. She felt herself falling forward in slow motion. It didn’t matter anymore. She was too tired. She had run the best race she knew how and had given it her all. It hadn’t been enough. Maybe now she could sleep. That was all she wanted, to sleep and forget the impending horror that was stalking her....
11
G
RIMLY, DAN CHECKED
Libby over before scooping her up into his arms. She had sustained many cuts, lacerations and bruises. Worriedly he looked at the gash on her temple. With one backward glance he gripped her tightly to him, running toward the lake, barely a mile away. It was their only hope...their only chance of living through the fiery holocaust....
Libby felt cold water being splashed against her face. She moaned, protesting, opening her eyes. Dan’s face danced before her. “Dan?” she whispered.
He nodded, cradling her next to his body, supporting her by the bank of the lake. “It’s me,” he rasped. His face was streaked with sweat, and tense with unspoken anxiety.
“Η-how did you find me?”
He smiled grimly, giving her a hug. “They found Bates and he gave me your route over the ridge and valley. Listen,” he said quickly, “we can’t be rescued, Libby. The fire’s too close. It’s too hot. No chopper can land here right now.” He spoke in a firm, soothing tone, one that was meant to keep her calm. “We’ve got to get in the water. The heat of the fire is over twenty-five hundred degrees Fahrenheit and we’re going to get a blast of it just as soon as the flames top that ridge. No matter what happens, just trust me. I’ll get us through this. But it’s going to be frightening, Libby. You may panic. Whatever you do, just listen to me. Just do as I tell you.” His blue eyes were dark, boring into hers. “Do you understand?”
She nodded her head, looking toward the last ridge. The heat was building so rapidly that it was creating rising clouds of steam off the lake. Tears gathered in her eyes and Libby clung to him, feeling his arms go around her in a protective gesture. “Y-yes. I’ll do as you say,” she sobbed.
“That’s my lady,” he whispered, kissing her cheek. “Okay, let’s get into the water.”
Dan never left her side. Libby allowed him to pull her out into the knee-deep water. He led her toward a stand of thick cattails and made her lie belly-down in the water until only the tops of her shoulders and head were visible. Scooping up handfuls of mud, he swathed it over her neck and shoulders.
“We can’t live underwater,” he explained quickly. “So I want you to stay down on your stomach. The mud is to protect you from the heat” He reached out, putting more of the thick, gooey substance in her hands. “Smear it over your face and hair. Plenty of it, Lib,” he ordered.
She had just finished covering herself with mud when the fire crested the ridge. Dan lay down beside her, putting his arm around her. He made sure his back was to the fire, his body acting as a protection between it and Libby. The water was spring-fed and icy, soothing her hot, sweaty body. Libby pressed herself close to Dan, hearing trees explode like bombs being detonated. The air was filled with smoke and flames like ugly red welts, alive within the thunderous holocaust. She sobbed, shutting her eyes tightly. Dan’s arm tightened around her waist, keeping her close.
The heat was incredibly intense. Libby felt the mud drying almost immediately and pulling at her skin. She opened her eyes only to see the sky filled with tongues of yellow, red and orange flame. Hysteria snaked through her and she began to sob. But Dan remained calm, gradually moving them into deeper water as the lake began to shrink because of evaporation. Time and again he put more mud on her head, face and shoulders. His voice, low and calming, kept Libby from struggling out of his grasp and losing total control. Time ceased. There was only the monstrous heat. Libby kept her face turned on the side, half in the water, breathing through her mouth as Dan had instructed. Her skin smarted and began to feel burned.
Dan reached down into the murky depths, pulling out a handful of lake-bed weeds. He placed it over her mouth and nose. “Breathe through this,” he shouted above the roar. “Keep wetting it and breathe through it, Libby. If you don’t, your lungs will get burned.” She tiredly pulled the weeds to her mouth and nose, immediately grateful for the idea. Her skin stopped smarting and the air she inhaled was infinitely cooler. Everywhere she looked the world was on fire. Flames arched overhead like long, evil fingers reaching toward the horizon. Throughout, Dan’s husky voice was there, comforting, his protective arm about her trembling body. And, more than anything, she kept hearing him say over and over again, “Libby, I love you. Don’t give up. We’ll live through this. We can do it. I love you.”
She had no idea of how long it was before Dan slowly stood up in the shallow water with her leaning weakly against him. Almost miraculously the worst of the intense heat had suddenly dissipated. Libby stood dripping in the water, clinging to Dan, her eyes wide with shock as she surveyed the charred, blackened land around them. It was almost dark except for the orange glow on the far horizon to the south of them. Thousands of trees continued to burn in the wake of the blaze, flickering candles in the turbid dusk. Resting her head tiredly against his chest, she was soothed by the slow, drumlike beat of his steady heart.
Dan caressed her damp, muddied hair. “Okay?” he whispered, his mouth near her temple.
Libby nodded. “Just hold me, Dan,” she managed weakly.
His blue eyes glittered in the gathering darkness. “I’ll do better than that. Come on, let’s wash off the mud.”
She had never known that exhaustion could muddle her mind and leave her on the brink of incoherence. Dan had to bathe her like a helpless baby, repeating sentences slowly so that she could grasp what he was saying. After washing her off, Dan picked her up and took her to dry land. He gently set Libby on the ground and then unzipped a large pocket on the left leg of his flight suit Libby watched dully, completely confused by his actions.
“What...are you doing?”
Dan pulled a long, rectangular radio out of a sealed plastic bag, turning one of the knobs to the On position. “Calling in our rescue.” He grinned, his teeth starkly white against the blackness of his strained features. “Looks like this four-pound radio is worth carrying after all. I’m going to order a chopper in to get us out of here.”
A smile pulled at Libby’s mouth. She sat there in the darkness, her hair wet, looking like a bedraggled kitten. Within half an hour she heard a helicopter approaching. Dan set out a red flare, marking their position for the pilot. Once it had landed, Dan picked Libby up and carried her to the chopper. The horror of the fire lived in her and she clung mutely to Dan all the way back to base camp, finally falling into a deep, dark slumber.
Libby stirred, immediately brought awake by the protest of her stiff, abused muscles. Opening her eyes, she recognized the ceiling of Dan’s bedroom. Simultaneously she realized she was in his bed. Soothing sounds entered her mind. She recognized Dvořák’s New World Symphony playing in the background, the music drifting through the partially opened door from the living room. It was day; sunlight was filtering through the curtains. She heard footsteps and rolled onto her back, looking toward the door.
“I thought you were never going to wake up,” Dan said, worry evident in his voice. He sauntered in, freshly shaven, his hair dark and damp from a recent shower. “You realize it’s almost eleven, Druidess?” he teased, sitting on the bed and placing his arm on the other side of her body so she couldn’t escape.