"What is it?"

Angela shook her head, tearing her eyes away as she grabbed her blankets, sweater, and the heater. "I can't tell. Big and fast, whatever it is."

She moved toward the ladder, leaving the rest of her things. She could hear Dog whining impatiently in the darkness below. Whatever it was, the wolf felt it. Angela climbed down quickly, going for the door.

"Oh, my God!"

That instantly drew Marc from gathering their things, and he stopped in the doorway behind her, stunned.

Thick, orange flames licked up dying trees and the porch rails of the house, branches flaming in every direction. Even the air was burning, fat drops of acid rain catching fire before they hit a burning branch or rail. It looked like the sky was on fire from the ground up, tiny sparks moving into the night like flames following gasoline.

The rear of the garage was sending up smoke, telling Marc that direction wasn't safe either, and his sharp mind began to search for an exit.

Angie was still frozen, and Marc gave her a nudge as a wave of thick, black smoke gusted toward them, noticing she cringed away from him even in a moment of danger. "Back the way we came, and stay on my ass!"

They were rolling a few seconds later, tires moving over hot, smoldering branches and limbs that had already fallen. The smoke grew steadily thicker, making it harder and harder to see as they drove by smoking cabins and tall, flaming trees that threw hot showers of sparks on their vehicles as they sped by. Neither noticed the bullets that slammed by, all barely missing the tires they were aimed for, hitting the ground with hard, quiet thuds that couldn't be heard over the crackling, popping roar of the fire around them.

Smoke rolled across the road in thick waves, flames blocking their way in places, and Marc was forced to lead them in and out of trees that had become horrible, burning torches.

Dead limbs fell, thumping to the ground in geysers of flaming debris and Angela followed him tensely, heart in her throat. They'd almost burned! It was hot and smoky, her back and face sweaty, cheeks streaked with soot, and Angela tried to keep her eyes on his bumper instead of the flames. How close to death they'd been!

Brady took them back the way they'd come, but instinct was telling him this wasn't a natural fire. When the flames continued to get heavier, he turned them again, heading west as sweat poured off him in small torrents. The flames rose suddenly in a thick wall, and he keyed the mic, "Hit the gas! We'll go right through!"




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