I get there. Fire reflects against the candy apple red paint, turning the vehicle orange. It’s close enough that I’m trapped between the heat of the fire and the warmth being bounced back off of the metal of the door. I throw it open.
Inside, I scramble for the keys. I flip the visor down and they fall into my lap. I sigh, relief flooding my body as surely as any physical sensation I’ve ever known. It’s better than sex.
I stick the key in the ignition and turn it. The engine roars to life and I throw the vehicle in gear. I look around for the hint of taillights. For a hint of where Vanessa might have gone. And then it occurs to me that there’s only one other way out of this place.
The canyon where the journalist told me to go.
I hit the gas and drive like I’ve just been hired as an extra in an action movie. I speed through the flames, hoping they won’t lick the gas tank and send me ricocheting towards the moon.
They don’t, and I pass the rest of the ranch, leaving it behind. The dirt road before me that leads over to the neighboring ranch is lit only by starlight. Anywhere else, it wouldn’t be enough. But out here, it’s plenty. The gaseous bulbs provide enough light to turn the path before me to a milky blue. The moon helps, too. And for the first time, I realize that it’s full tonight.
I make a silent wish to whatever gods that may be and pray that I find Vanessa.
It’s then that I spot a pair of red eyes in the distance. Taillights.
Her vehicle swerves, missing something. I wonder for a moment if it’s an animal. A coyote maybe. Or a bobcat. One of the many predators that inhabit the desolate landscape out here. I keep my eyes peeled, not wanting to come across anything that might slow me down.
I see something moving in the tall grass to my right. I brake abruptly as a pack of coyotes runs across the road. I don’t honk. I don’t feel the rage I normally associate with being cut off in the city. This is different. This place is wild. This is their home and I’m the interloper.
I come to a stop as the last of the pack turns to look at me while it crosses the dirt trail. His eyes glow green in the bright headlights of the Jeep. He disappears, cutting into the tall grass on the left of the road, parting it like butter beneath a warm knife.
I don’t have time to marvel at the natural wonders out here. I don’t really have time to worry about the fact that once I find Vanessa, I’ll have to get out of the Jeep and be on the same playing field as the coyotes, and God knows what else.
Putting the pedal to the floor, I speed on through the night, trying my best to catch up with the Jeep in front of me. I watch as she nears the end of the dirt trail. We’re getting close to the creek. I have no idea what plan she has once we get there. But soon enough, I pull up on the edge of the dried creek bed next to Vanessa’s Jeep. The lights are on in the interior. When I throw open my door, I can hear her vehicle dinging with the insistence that she’s left the keys in the ignition.
I rush around to the driver’s side door. It’s open. I look inside on the off chance that she’s left the baby behind, but she hasn’t.
The Jeep is empty. No trace of Vanessa or the child aside from the keys dangling in the ignition. I kill the engine and listen to the still night.
I hear the coyotes in the distance. Not far enough for comfort, I note. They quiet suddenly and I’m able to hear something else. Something human. I hear her—Vanessa—moving through the trees that line the creek.
The trees move as though just parted by something moving through them. She’s close. I take off, running towards them. It’s my hope that I’ll find her before she’s aware that I’m chasing her, but I’ve learned not to hold out much hope out here.
I pass into the wooded area. Cedar trees line either side of the creek and I’m struck again by the image of their branches grasping at my clothes like boys pawing at the hem of my skirt, eager to get their hands somewhere they don’t belong.
The image is fleeting, just like all the thoughts I’m able to entertain. My focus keeps straying from the task at hand. I wonder if it has something to do with the head injury that I sustained in the study. Then I’m thinking of Tom. The fact that he’s dead. The fire encroaching on the studio. Now Birdie. My pace quickens as I’m reminded of why I’m here in the first place. I force my feet forward as the image of her crooked gap-toothed grin plays like B-roll footage in my mind.
I emerge from the trees and I see Vanessa.
She’s scaling the other side of the creek, climbing out onto the bank and disappearing into the woods once more. The baby protected in her arms, she moves quickly.
I hop into the creek bed, the jump enough to jar my bones. I race across, dodging the dinosaur tracks that I had been so entranced by earlier in the week. On the opposite side, I hike up until I’m faced with the edge of the tree line once more.
I can hear them. I hear Vanessa panting with the effort of carrying a newborn child through the dense cedar copse. I hear her stumble, the baby cry. It’s a good sign, I tell myself. I follow the noises they make, and I emerge on the other
