High Desert Barbecue (10 page)

H
e cocked his head to the side.

“
Well, I might. I stashed it there a while ago. I can be forgetful sometimes.”

L
ani ran her finger down a page in the book.

“
It looks like the trail branches off. We could loop back up the Dorsey trail and maybe get behind them.”

S
cott glanced down the road behind them, then at the sky above. It was rapidly filling with smoke, which rose into the sky to blend with an oncoming wall of clouds.

“
I don’t think so.”

“
Uh uh,” Rollo echoed, following Scott’s gaze.

“
Well … yeah, it does also go down into the canyon. There’s water along the way, too.”

“
Sounds like a plan,” Scott said. He gave Champ a last pat, then stepped toward the trailhead.

L
ani didn’t budge. She sat in place, trail guide in her hand, her eyes focused on nothing in particular.

S
cott stopped in place. He took a sip from his drinking tube, cleared his throat, and then scuffed the ground with the toe of his hiking shoe.

“
Is that all right with you?”

“
No.”

R
ollo strolled past the trailhead, and then paused.

“
I’ll be …” He pointed vaguely down the trail. Then he followed his finger and disappeared.

“
So?”

“
This is nuts.” Lani stared up at him. Her legs were uncrossed and splayed wide across the dirt. “I’m a schoolteacher. You’re an unemployed editor who just
hates
being told what to do. Rollo’s an … I don’t know what the hell he is.”

“
A free spirit,” yelled a voice from down the trail. “I’m a free spirit.”

“
You’re a bum,” Scott answered. “But I like you anyway.”

“
But that’s all we are,” Lani continued. “Who are we to go around out here shooting at pyromaniac forest rangers and then run off into the desert?”

“
Oh shit. Is she getting all existential?”

“
Shut up, Rollo.”

S
cott dropped to one knee and took Lani’s hand in his own. He gently kissed the back of her hand.

“
First of all, I’m not much of an editor. I haven’t done much editing in a long time. Mostly, I’m a loafer who likes to hike and shoot and cash paychecks from companies that haven’t yet realized that they no longer need my services.”

L
ani smiled and shook her head.

“
I hope that makes you feel better.”

“
Not really.”

“
Well, how’s this. We’re the people on the spot. And if we don’t get moving, I strongly suspect the bad guys will catch up with us. And that would be bad. Work for you?”

L
ani sighed.

S
cott rose and extended a hand to help his girlfriend to her feet. Then he kissed her.

“
I love you. Remember that.”

“
I remember. And I love you.”

A
rustling came from the direction of the trailhead.

“
Well, I don’t love either of you. So can we get going before somebody sets fire to us?”

S
cott looked at Lani; he cocked an eyebrow in a silent question. She nodded in response. They strolled silently to the rim of the canyon just yards from the trailhead and took a last look at the gouge in the Earth they hoped would provide refuge. Light played across the rocks and trees below. A slow rumble of thunder echoed from the canyon walls.

“
I hope you have some food in that cache of yours,” Lani called out.

T
he older man answered without turning around.

“
I hope I don’t. You have no idea how long it’s been since I put it there.”

K
elsey Trail isn’t a shy trail; it runs hikers through a series of steep switchbacks that has the leader of any trek catching loose pocket change dropped by members of the party behind him.

F
orest crowded the trio and the steep trail required attention, so the world closed in to become a circle encompassing three people and one dog. Rocks rolled underfoot, dirt-hard-packed from the tramping of boots and the glare of the sun caused lugged soles to skid and bushes—sharp Arizona bushes with pointy Arizona thorns—reached out to snare fabric and scrape skin.

T
he circle filled with the sound of wind rustling through branches, heavy breathing from hikers intent on keeping their footing, slurps as Scott and Lani sipped from their drinking tubes and Rollo gulped water from an ancient but still-serviceable soda bottle.

A
nd there was also the happy snuffling and snorting of a dog overjoyed to explore the multitude of smells to be found along the trail—and to make friends with the wildlife.

“
Goddamnit, Champ!” Lani yelled. “Leave that rabbit alone!”

K
elsey Spring itself appeared after half-a-mile. On a welcome shelf of flat land, and just a short jog to the right of the trail, water flowed from a pipe into a battered metal trough.

“
Anybody need water?” Scott asked.

N
obody answered, so on Scott, Rollo and Champ went — until they realized they were missing a trail companion. They retraced their steps a hundred feet or so to the spring, where Lani squatted, sifting through the contents of her backpack. Her hand reappeared from the pack’s depths, clutching a bright-red parcel emblazoned with a white cross.

“
What’re you doing, hon?”

L
ani produced a rolled-up sandwich baggy filled with white, powdery crystals.

“
Oh, no,” Rollo said. “This ain’t no ‘Bright Lights, Big City’ re-enactment.”

L
ani ignored him.

“
Baby, aren’t epsom salts a laxative?”

“
Yeah.”

L
ani gestured at the water tank.

S
cott smiled.

“
Oh. Hell, why not? Is there anything else we can use?”

Rollo’s mouth opened in a wide O. He dropped his pack to the ground and fished inside a side pocket. He produced a small cardboard box.

S
cott looked at the box quizzically.

R
ollo shrugged.

“
All that jerky I eat can be a little binding, if you know what I mean.”

S
cott ripped into the box and handed the contents to Lani, who added it to the soup she’d already made of the Epsom salts in the steel trough. She gave the mess a stir with a stick.

“
Looks good to me.”

A
nd off they went again.

T
hey hiked to the Babe’s Hole spring where hills clustered to shelter a plank-covered well from which water flowed into a bubbling pool of water. Sadly out of adulterants to add to the water supply, they passed on by.

P
onderosa pine soon gave way to oak and sycamore trees, and the temperature inched upwards.

A
t a trail junction, they spurned the left-hand fork that would take them back up to the rim where lurked fire and firebugs, and chose instead the trail to Geronimo Spring at the bottom of Sycamore Canyon.

T
ime passed. The trail grew harsher and treacherous rocks threatened to send the hikers tumbling downward to their destination faster than planned.

S
oon, though, the trail ended at a shady, tree-lined trail intersection where Little LO Canyon opened into Sycamore Canyon. High rock walls towered above. A left-hand turn led to the spring and the big canyon beyond.

L
ani was the first of the trio to take advantage of Geronimo Spring, though Champ jumped the line to lap water from the wooden trough. The thin blonde filled her water bladder and extra bottles while Rollo waited his turn and Scott mixed up batches of an oily yellow solution from two small squeeze bottles of chemicals. He dumped the stuff into each water container Lani handed him.

R
ollo snorted.

“
Ya gotta toughen up your guts so the water cooties leave you alone.”

S
cott didn’t look up.

“
I have no doubt the parasites have more to fear from you than you have to fear from parasites.”

L
ight dimmed in the canyon and a spattering of rain polka-dotted the rocks.

S
cott lifted his hand, palm upward.

“
We’re gonna get wet.”

H
e turned and looked back the way they’d come.

“
D’ya think they’re still behind us?”

R
ollo shrugged.

“
Probably. I have a strong feeling they’re a little ticked off about the visit we paid them.”

H
e shrugged.

“
I just hope they’re not too much better prepared than we are for this little adventure.”

Chapter 23

“
OK. So, does anybody else have a rain jacket?”
Nobody responded, leaving Terry as the only member of the group with his hand in the air. After a quick glance around his ring of teammates, he dropped it to his side.

“
I think Tim has a poncho,” Terry finally offered.

J
ason just glared in response; the comment didn’t deserve anything else.

“
Well, that’s a big help,” Ray barked. “Maybe he can use it to protect himself from the fire. You know, instead of the Nomex coats that
somebody
left back in the forest.”

J
ason flushed. He wasn’t entirely sure that leaving their fire-resistant gear in a neat pile near the spot where they’d encountered the stranger was entirely his fault, but he was in charge. Well, sort of. He was the one taking the blame anyway.

R
ay seemed to stare wistfully down the road in the direction Tim had disappeared to meet up with a truck and equipment sent by Van Kamp and Greenfield. Terry, Bob and Rena’s gaze followed. Jason was happy to note that Samantha’s eyes stayed on him.

“
Well, what’s done is done. Tim is on his way to the mouth of Sycamore Canyon. He’ll head off the people ahead of us in case we can’t catch up with them.”

A
fter a pause, he added, “I’m sure he’ll be just fine.”

R
ay muttered something.

“
What’s that?”

“
I said we should have given him some barbecue sauce.”

J
ason’s lips tightened, but he didn’t bother answering. Instead, he hoisted his daypack to his back and made a show of buckling the sternum strap that kept the shoulder straps from slipping too far apart. The light pack settled into place easily—a testament to the small load he’d packed in anticipation of a casual day of pyromania. Then he lifted his rifle from the ground, feeling a little off-balance from the unaccustomed weight of the M-16 gripped in his right hand.

“
All right people. The tracks go in this direction. So let’s get going.” He stepped toward the Kelsey trailhead.

F
ollowing his lead, the others donned their own packs and lifted the weapons they’d off-loaded from the trucks before abandoning the vehicles and their empty gas tanks to the advancing fire.

H
anging back so he could bring up the rear, Ray grabbed the rifle from Rena’s hands and gave it a quick inspection.