Endangered (9781101559017) (41 page)

Should she call in the violation? The trespassers were leaving; the odds against catching them were high. The explosion was most likely local teens setting off fireworks. M-80s could sound like cannons, especially on a quiet night like this. The Quileute and Quinault reservations were still hawking firecrackers, even though the Fourth of July had passed weeks ago.

A yellow light bloomed from the darkness near the lake. Then another. The brightness splashed and spread. She grabbed the radio on the desk and raised it to her lips. “Three-one-one, this is three-two-five. Come in, three-one-one.” She raised her finger from the Talk button. Nothing. She looked longingly at her cell phone on the shelf, but knew that it didn't work in some areas of the park. She tried the radio again. “Three-one-one, this is three-two-five.”

“Three-one-one.” The voice of the night dispatcher was hoarse. “Did you say three-two-five? Cat Mountain Fire Lookout? Where's Jeff?”

“Jeff went home. His mother's sick. This is Sam Westin.”

“Oh, yeah. What's up, Sam?”

“I've got a fire at Marmot Lake.” In the distance, a dead tree caught with a sudden rush, a knife blade of orange light in the darkness. The headlights strobed through thick evergreens as they raced west toward the highway.

The dispatcher's reply was clipped, all business now. “Copy that, three-two-five. Fire at Marmot Lake.”

“I see at least three sources. Roll everyone you can get. Send them in on”—she checked the map beneath her fingertips—“Road 5214. Over.”

“Roger that. 5214. I'll wake everyone up. Over.”

“I'm heading for the blaze now. Over.”

“You're a temp. Stay at the lookout. Over.”

“I'm fifteen minutes away. I'm a trained firefighter; I have equipment.”

“You are? You do? But—”

Sam cut her off with a press of the Talk button. “It'll be at least an hour before you can get anyone to the lake. Over.”

The dispatcher chose not to debate that point. “It's against the regs. Don't do anything stupid. Three-one-one, out.”

Sam dumped the radio on the countertop and pulled on her boots. She heard the radio call to Paul Schuler, the law enforcement ranger who patrolled the west-side campgrounds at night. The rest of the calls would be made via telephone; other staff members would be asleep at home. If all went smoothly, the west-side crew might reach the lake in forty-five minutes. Most of them lived in the small town of Forks, less than fifteen miles away. But in that time, a fire could consume acres of forest. With luck, she might be able to extinguish a couple of small blazes before the wildfire dug its ugly claws too deeply into the forest.

Lili jammed her feet into her own hiking boots.

“No,” Sam said. “You're staying here.”

Lili's fountain of dark hair bounced as her chin jerked up. “You can't leave me here! What if the fire comes this way?”

Good point. If the fire turned in this direction, she might not make it back to get Lili. Damn! “Then I'll have to drop you—”

“Where?” Lili's voice was shrill. “There isn't anywhere.”

Sam stared at her, trying to think of a safe place to deposit the child. Her mind was filled with visions of flames licking through the forest, a small fire growing larger by the second. Panic growing as birds and deer and bears circled within the smoke, tree frogs frantically searching for twigs that wouldn't scorch their skin.

“The trees are burning right now,” Lili said, as if reading her thoughts.

Sam didn't need to be reminded: her imagination was loud with screams of terrified animals.

“I'll do
exactly
what you say.” Lili made the sign of the cross over her chest.

“You bet you will.” Sam blew out the Coleman, stuffed her flashlight and first-aid kit into her daypack. Her fire-retardant suit, along with shovels and Pulaskis, was locked into a metal toolbox in the park's oldest pickup at the bottom of the tower.

Lili worked in silence, throwing gear and water bottles into her own pack as Sam picked up the radio again. When the dispatcher finally answered, Sam informed her that Lili Choi would be riding with her to Marmot Lake. She heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end.

“No choice,” Sam said into the radio void. “Three-two-five, out.”