“They know that he saw them.”
“Yes.”
“But they didn’t kill him. Why not?”
“They didn’t find him. He hid well that day, and they ran out of time. I got him away then. To a safe house. The sort of thing I told you his mother wouldn’t trust. Remember that, the night I met you, that night in the snow? It wasn’t a lie. His mother didn’t trust the safe house. His mother had just lost two witnesses from one. Do you remember when I said I would protect the boy for free if I thought I could?”
Her voice broke and she turned from Allison. That was the only motion she made, but somehow she seemed to continue retreating.
“His mother was never a very good mother,” she said. “That’s why he lived with his father. But his mother still loves him. She loves him more than…” She stopped talking and gave a sob of a laugh and then said, “You like that? How I still have to talk about myself as if I’m not the mother?”
“I understand it, at least.”
She turned back to Allison and said, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Serbin. I’m so sorry. I should never have involved your husband. Or you. It was just an idea that came to me in a desperate time, and I remembered your husband, remembered that training and how good he was and how remote this place was, and I thought…I thought it might work. For long enough, anyhow. Just enough time for them to be caught. I’m so sorry you’ve paid for my mistake.”
Allison stared past her and out the window to where the lights of the town glowed. On the other side of the lights, the mountains lived in blackness, and somewhere on them were Jamie Bennett’s son and Allison’s husband and the two men who smelled of smoke and blood.
“You might have made a lot of mistakes,” Allison said. “But coming to Ethan wasn’t one of them. I can promise you that. I can’t promise you that he’ll get your son back to you safely. But I can promise you that nobody has a better chance.”
“I’m going after him.”
“No, you’re not.”
“It’s why I’m here. That’s my son. You heard me say it; you’re the only one who knows. I’m going to help find him.”
“No, you’re not,” Allison repeated. “You don’t know how. If you were with Ethan, maybe. Without him…you’ll just get stopped.”
“Then help me. Tell me where Ethan would have gone.”
“I don’t know! If I knew, I’d be there myself! To tell him to quit.”
“How would Ethan have started? So far, all I know is that he’s gone to search. You have to know more than that. This is what he does. What has he told you about the way he does it?”
He would have gone to the last place he’d seen the boy. He would have hiked back up the Pilot Creek trail and found their camp, and there he would have begun to track him.
“Would he have listened?” Allison said.
“What?”
“Your son. Was he the type of kid who would have paid attention to what Ethan said? Would he have listened and retained, or would he have been too scared? Would he have been concentrating only on staying with his false identity and hoping that nobody came for him?”
“He would have listened. It’s one of the reasons we…one of the reasons I picked this approach. I wanted him off the grid, yes. But I also thought that your husband would help him. Mentally, emotionally. That he wouldn’t be alone in the way he would have been in other situations.”
Allison looked at the dark mountains again and said, “It will probably be too late.”
“I’ve got to try. Mrs. Serbin, if you have an idea, then you’ve got to let me try. Just tell me where to go or who to talk to and I will leave you alone, I will-”
“We’ll go together.”
Jamie Bennett didn’t say anything, just looked Allison up and down. Taking inventory of the damage.
“I’m burned, and I’m sore. I’m not broken. I can move.”
“You don’t need to-”
“Bullshit. Your son is out there, and my husband. And I hate hospitals.”
“You’re in one for a reason.”
Allison pushed herself upright. It wasn’t pleasant-there were throbs of pain from places she hadn’t known were hurt-but she could do it. She swung around and got her feet down on the floor. All that was required now was standing. That was all. Tango had been standing for three months. How many people did she need to explain that to? Only one. Herself.
“Stop,” Jamie Bennett said, but there wasn’t much heart in it.
“Ethan gave them escape routes this summer,” she said. “Every night, at every campsite. He said Connor-sorry, Jace-fell back when they were hiking last night. If he hasn’t been found yet, then he’s not on a trail. They would have found him. If he went into the backcountry, and if he was the type of kid who listened, then he might have tried to get out using the escape route. It would have been the only option he knew.”
“So where would he be?”
“Trying to hike into Silver Gate down the back of a mountain.”
“Silver Gate,” Jamie Bennett said. “That’s…that’s where the fire is.”
“Yes.”
“Would it be close to him?”
“I have no idea what’s happening in those mountains. Now, I know you can drive fast. You’ve demonstrated that. So drive fast again, but this time stay on the damn road, all right?”
Part Three: The Dying Kind
28
The fire came into view for the first time at the plateau that ran below Republic Peak, which Hannah and Connor reached gasping and sweating. It had not been an easy climb. They could see Amphitheater, the next peak, in the distance, and below them, a long way down, were glimmers of orange and crimson. It looked like the dying embers of the world’s largest campfire, but Hannah knew it was hardly ready to die. What looked like small flares from up here were probably flames climbing forty- or fifty-foot pines. The crews down there had lost the blaze to the wind and had likely retreated for the night. She’d heard no helicopters, which was unsurprising considering that it was dark and storms were on the way. There’d been no choppers during the day either, so she surmised that they’d thought they could contain it without the helitack units. Now they were backing off, giving themselves some rest and counting on rain, waiting to see what the storm front would do to the fire.
“That’s it?” Connor said, staring down at the colored glows. There was awe in his voice.
“That’s it.”
“I didn’t know we’d be able to see the actual flames. I thought it would just be smoke. I know it’s not right to say, but from way up here, it looks kind of pretty.”
“Yes,” she said, and she was agreeing with both sentiments-it wasn’t right to say, and it was pretty. It was absolutely gorgeous, in fact. “You should see it from the ground,” she said. “When the flames turn to clouds. When the fire runs up on you like something prehistoric, and you can see it and feel it and hear it. The sounds it can make…it’s a hungry sound. That’s the best word I can give you. Hungry.”
“How do you know so much about fires?”
“Spent some time with them, Connor. Fighting them.”
“Really?” He turned to her. “They let girls do that?”
“They do.”
“And you were down there?” He pointed. “I mean, you would have been right down there?”
“Yes. Usually, we would have trenched and watched the wind and pulled back by now. Waited for sunrise. Not always, though. It depends on the weather, depends on the circumstances, what your time window looks like. Sometimes we worked all day and all night. With this weather blowing in, though, we’d be waiting. We’d keep a safe distance and wait to see what it would do to the fire.”