Black Wing hurt her in some way that glory can’t heal? I think. What if she is dying?
I suddenly remember my phone. I pull it out of my pocket and start to fumble for 9-1-1.
“Don’t,” Mom says. “I’ll be fine. I just need to rest. You should go to Fox Creek Road.”
“But you’re hurt.”
“I told you, I’ll be fine. Go.”
“I’ll take you home first.”
“There’s no time for that.” She shoves me away from her. “We’ve lost so much time already. Go to Christian.”
“Mom—”
“Go to Christian,” she says. “Go now.”
Chapter 21
Smoke Gets in Your Eyes
I beeline it for Fox Creek Road. I’m so frazzled by all that’s happened, but I just fly and my wings seem to know the way. I drop onto the road right in the spot where my vision usually begins.
I look around. There’s no silver Avalanche parked along the road, no orange sky, no fire. Everything looks completely normal. Peaceful, even. The birds are singing, leaves are rustling gently on the aspens and all seems right with the world.
I’m early.
I know the fire is on the other side of the mountain, moving steadily toward this place. It will come here. All I have to do is wait.
I move off the road, sit down against a tree, and try to focus. Impossible. Why would Christian even be here? I wonder. What could possibly bring him all the way out to Fox Creek Road? Somehow I have a hard time picturing him in hip waders, flicking a fishing line back and forth over the stream. It doesn’t seem right.
None of this is right, I think. In my vision, I’m not sitting here waiting for him to show up. He gets here first. I come down when the truck is already parked, and walk up into the forest, and he’s already there. He’s watching the fire as it comes.
I glance at my watch. The hands aren’t moving. It’s stopped at eleven forty-two. I left the house at about nine in the morning, probably had my big crash around ten thirty, so at eleven forty-two.
At eleven forty-two I was in hell. And I have no idea what time it is now.
I should have stayed with Mom. I had time. I could have taken her home or to the hospital. Why did she insist that I leave her? Why would she want to be alone? My heart seizes with fear at the thought that she might be hurt much worse than she let on and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer, so she made me go. I picture her lying on the bank of the lake, the water lapping at her feet, dying. Dying all alone.
All these months of having the vision, over and over and over again, all these months of trying to make sense of it, and now it’s finally here and I still don’t know what to do, or why I will do it. I can’t get over the feeling that I’m already doing something wrong. That I was supposed to go on that date with Christian, maybe something important would’ve happened to lead him here today.
That’s pretty bleak to consider. I lean my head back against the tree trunk just as my phone rings. It’s from a number I don’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“Clara?” says a familiar, worried voice.
“Wendy?”
I try to pull it together. I wipe at the remnants of tears on my face. It feels really strange to be having a normal conversation all of a sudden. “Are you home?”
“No,” she says. “I’m supposed to fly in on Friday. But I’m calling about Tucker. Is he with you?”
A dart of pain shoots through me. Tucker.
“No,” I say awkwardly. “We broke up. I haven’t seen him in a week.”
“That’s what my mom said,” says Wendy. “I guess I was hoping you’d gotten back together or something, and he was with you since he has the day off.”
I look around. The air is getting heavier. I can distinctly smell the smoke. The fire’s coming.
“My mom called me when she saw the news. My parents are in Cheyenne at an auction and they don’t know where he is.”
“What news?”
“Don’t you know? The fires?”
So the fire is on the news. Of course.
“What are they saying? How big is it?”
“What?” she says, confused. “Which one?”
“What?”
