Off Season (7 page)

“Look, there's a road!” Kia called out.

I hurried to catch up to where she and Ned stood. A long brown ribbon cut through the forest.

“That's the road that leads to our house. It's in that direction,” Ned said, pointing off to the left.

“So are we going to walk the rest of the way
along the road?” I asked.

“I guess so. It's not far now,” he said.

“Not far like a couple of minutes or not far like a couple of hours?” I questioned.

“Maybe thirty minutes,” Ned said.

“Maybe we won't have to walk. Why don't we stick out our thumbs and try to hitch a ride with somebody?” Kia suggested and then laughed at her own joke.

“After walking through the forest, up and down hills and around rocks and ponds, walking on a road is practically going to feel like a drive,” I said.

We scrambled down the rise and to the road. Dan was waiting there for us, crouching on the ground, studying the dirt.

“Tracks,” he said. “Fairly new … more than one set.”

“There's been traffic along here?” I asked.

“More than usual. Somebody has been driving along this trail.”

“But our house is the only place farther down the road than here, and with the restrictions on park entr y who could it be?” Ned asked.

Almost in answer there came the sound of an engine. My instant, anxious response was that it was a chainsaw motor — Bart's chainsaw.
But then a truck appeared around the curve … it looked like Ned's truck.

“It's Mom!” Ned yelled out.

Fantastic! We weren't going to have to walk any farther.

“She's moving awfully fast,” Ned said.

“As far as I'm concerned she's always moving too fast,” Dan said.

The truck came racing along the trail, and the horn started to blare out. She skidded to a stop and a cloud of dust rolled over top of us. She jumped out of the truck.

“I'm so glad I found you!” Debbie yelled. “I thought you'd come back this way, so I've been up and down this road half a dozen times.”

That explained the tracks, but not why she was so glad to find us so quickly.

“Everybody get into the truck and I'll explain.”

Debbie jumped back behind the wheel and we tossed in our packs and climbed into the truck. She started driving — driving away from their house.

“You were going to explain,” Dan said.

“The radio call came in last night,” Debbie said. “There's a fire southeast of the park.”

“How big?” Dan asked.

“Big enough that they're pulling most of
the park rangers, including you, to fight it. The team is assembling in Salmon Arm.”

“How soon?” Dan asked, looking at his watch.

“Pretty well right now. That's why I was trying to intercept you on the road. I've got all your gear in the back of the truck.”

“Then we better move it.”

Kia turned to Ned, sitting beside her. “How far away is this Salmon place?” she whispered.

“Salmon Arm,” he said, “is about three hours from here.”

“Not the way I'm going to be driving today,” Debbie said. “Sorry you all have to come along but there's no choice. Dan can't drive himself because then we'd be left without a vehicle, and I can't leave the three of you alone.”

“That's okay,” Kia said.

“Besides, it'll give me a chance to do some grocery shopping, and the two city kids might be wanting a little taste of civilization by now anyway.”

Landing at Kelowna had been nothing compared to the bumps and bounces of the first part of the ride. The only smooth parts were when we
were actually catching air between the bumps as Debbie rocketed along the road. Hitting the highway the ride was smoother but the speed was faster. I mentioned something about being afraid of getting a speeding ticket, but Dan said no policeman will ever ticket somebody on the way to fight a fire.

We slowed down as we started passing houses and businesses and drive-through restaurants along the highway. The road sliced between high, high hills — not quite mountains but bigger than anything I'd ever want to climb or slide down on a toboggan. The hills were marked by jutting rocks, steep sides and a sparse growth of small, stunted trees.

“Welcome to Salmon Arm,” Debbie said.

“I didn't even know salmon had arms,” Kia replied.

“Or legs for that matter,” Dan said, “but that's not how it got its name.”

“The town sits on the banks of Shuswap Lake. It has five different parts, or arms, and this one had more salmon in it, so this is the Salmon Arm of the lake,” Ned explained.

Debbie slowed the truck down even more as we started to meet traffic and then came to a complete stop at a red light. I looked around. The highway was lined with hotels and stores
and places to eat. There was a movie theater — it was even a multiplex — and there was a mall … a real genuine mall! The light changed and we started moving again.

“This place looks pretty big,” I said. “How many people live here?”

“The population swells in the summer,” Dan said, “but year-round it's about fifteen thousand people.”

“Possibly soon to be fifteen thousand and three,” Debbie said.

“Is this where you might be moving to?” I asked.

“This is the place. We'd be living just outside of town. Ned would be going to school here.”

I looked over at Ned. I was wondering how he was feeling about all of this. If it was me, I'd be pretty nervous about going to a new school — especially if I'd never gone to
any
school before.

I'd gone to the same school my whole life, but I'd seen enough new kids start to know that it wasn't always easy — especially if you were a little different. Ned was a nice guy, but he was a lot more than a little different. I wished he was going to be coming to my school where Kia and I could take care of him.

“Is it just me or does anybody else smell smoke?” Kia asked.

“That's from the forest fire,” Dan said.

“Is it that close?” she exclaimed.

“Over one hundred kilometers away.”

“And we can smell it here?”

“The smoke from a big fire can travel thou-sands of kilometers,” Dan explained.

While that sounded hard to believe, I knew that Dan knew what he was talking about.

“And the smoke tends to roll into the valleys. That's why you can smell it here,” Debbie added.

“Sometimes it's more than just the smoke that rolls into the valleys,” Dan said. “Some-times it's the fire.”

“There's been a fire here?” I asked.

“It came along the valley, burned up a whole lot of timber, homes, some businesses,” Dan said. “The highway was closed and the whole town had to be evacuated.”

“Did you notice how the hills just back there on our left looked pretty bare?” Debbie asked.

“I noticed that,” I said.

“The fire got that far, right to the edge of the town. The whole place would have burned up if it wasn't for the work of the firefighters.”

“That and a change in the weather and wind direction,” Dan said. “It was close.”

Debbie pulled the truck into a mall. There, in the middle of the parking lot, away from the building, sat a couple of big buses surrounded by cars. She pulled into an empty spot. There were lots of people milling around as we got out of the truck.

“Looks like we made it in time,” Debbie said.

Dan circled around to the back of the truck and reached in for a gigantic backpack. There were tools hanging down — a big axe and a shovel. As he pulled it out and swung it onto his shoulders a basketball bounced out of the back of the truck and started to roll away.

“I got it!” I yelled out as I scrambled after it. I grabbed the ball and dribbled it back, setting it down in the truck.

“In case I'm not back before you have to fly home, I hope you kids enjoy the rest of your visit,” Dan said.

“You mean you might be gone that long?” Kia asked.

“Could be a few days or it could be a few weeks. Depends on the fire and the weather and I have no control over either of those things,” Dan explained.

We all walked around to the front of the truck.

“Ned,” Dan said, “I want you to help out your mother in any way you can and look after your animals and your friends … okay?”

Ned nodded his head but didn't answer. Dan wrapped an arm around Ned and Ned hugged him back. Debbie came over and joined in, making a family hug.

“Be careful,” Debbie said, “and don't go being any hero.”

“Yes, Mother,” he scoffed.

“I don't care what you think, you just be careful! You're big, but you're not as big as a fire!”

He nodded his head. “I'll be careful … I promise. Now I better get going.”

Dan tried to walk away but both Ned and Debbie held on a little bit longer. Debbie gave him a kiss and then released him. Dan walked across the parking lot and joined up with a group of men already dressed in big boots and wearing helmets.

“He'll be okay,” Debbie said quietly to Ned.

Ned nodded his head ever so slightly. He looked like he was going to cry … What was the problem? He was only going to be gone for a few days or a couple of weeks at most
and … then I noticed the tears running down Debbie's cheeks.

“Is this … is this dangerous?” I asked.

“Fighting forest fires is always dangerous,” Debbie said as she took the back of her hand and brushed away the tears. “But Dan is trained — all of them are trained — so they know what they're doing and how to do it safely. He'll be fine.”

I nodded my head. I wondered if she'd been just answering my question or trying to convince both Ned and herself that everything would be alright.

All of the firefighters — mostly men, but a few women as well — climbed up into the big buses. As the last person got in, the door closed and the bus started away. The people remaining in the parking lots waved and yelled out last minute good-byes, and I noticed that it wasn't just Debbie who was in tears. We stood there and waved until the buses circled the parking lot, took one of the exits onto the highway and then got smaller and smaller until they disappeared around the curve in the highway.

People still stood in small groups and talked. Some started filtering back to their cars or trucks and began to leave.

“I guess there's no point in us staying here
any longer,” Debbie said. “I've got some grocery shopping to do.”

“Do we have to go shopping?” Ned asked.

“Well if there's something else — ”

“How about some basketball?” I asked, remembering the ball. “There's got to be a court around here somewhere, isn't there?”

“Just behind the mall,” Ned said. “We can walk there.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Kia asked.

We walked along the street, dribbling and passing the ball back and forth. There were big and little houses, nice lawns and large flower gardens. This certainly wasn't exactly like the city where we lived, but it was a lot closer to what we were used to. I didn't think there was any way I could live way out in the bush where Ned lived, but this would be okay. Not that I wanted to ever move anywhere, but this looked like a nice place. We came up to a school.

“The courts are in the back,” Ned said. “This is the school I'd be going to if we moved.”

“Looks nice,” I said.

“It's just a bunch of bricks and books … you know, your typical school,” Kia said.

I heard voices yelling out and the unmistakable sound of a basketball bouncing against the pavement. I loved that sound. We hurried around the side and came to the schoolyard. There were two basketball courts and there
was a game happening on one of them — older kids … teenagers.

As we walked over I watched the game in progress. The kids looked to be at least four or five years older than us. They weren't bad, but it was obvious they were just street ball players — lots of long shots, no plays, not many passes and nobody seemed to be interested in defense.

“Want to watch or play?” Ned asked.

“Play,” Kia answered. “Nothing that anybody here is going to do is worth watching.”

That sounded awfully arrogant, but I had to agree. We played rep ball, in the city, with some of the best players in the whole country. What were some guys on a court behind some school in a place called
Salmon Arm
going to show us about basketball?

“They look pretty good,” Ned said as he watched the action.

“That's only because you've been playing against your mother most of the time,” I snapped and then instantly regretted my words.

“I guess you're right … although she is pretty good.”

We walked onto the empty court. Both ends of the court looked fine. There were solid backboards, the rims were straight and they even
had mesh. That was something you didn't see very often where we lived. Usually playground nets had tattered or missing mesh and the rims were bent down from people hanging on them. I guess people were more respectful out here. Or maybe they just couldn't get enough air to hang.

“What do you want to play?” Kia asked.

“Bump would be great … if we had another ball,” I said. “How about horse?”

“Works for me,” Kia replied.

“What's horse?” Ned asked.

“It's a simple game. We take turns taking a shot.”

“Difficult shots,” Kia added.

“Yeah, the harder the better. A shot you can make but you don't think the other two can make.”

“And if you make the shot and they miss it, then they get a letter on them,” Kia continued.

“A letter?”

“Like an ‘h' or ‘o' or whatever,” I explained.

“And when you get all the letters on you that spell horse, then you're out. Does that make sense?”