Heartland (41 page)

Ahn must have seen where his gaze was centered, because he asked, “You okay?”

“Not sure.” JayJay had not even realized the kid was there beside him. The niggling sensation grew stronger. He did not bother to tell Ahn to go back. There was nothing to be gained from wasting his breath. He started jogging, the heavy coat bouncing hard on his shoulders with each step.

Miller emerged into the clearing, surrounded by a weary, soot-streaked, but satisfied crew.

Then it happened.

The wind did not arrive in the same punching downblast as at the last fire. Instead, there was a quiet sibilant rush, like the trapped fire muttered curses against them and all their efforts.

The valley caught the smoke and clamped it down tight. Blanking out the way ahead. Burning his eyes with soot. The only light was flickering embers, sweeping by in rushing swirls.

Ahn coughed and said, “I believe I've been this way before.”

JayJay gripped his jacket and spun him around. “Move! Straight ahead.”

They found Miller by colliding with him. The mayor of Salton City had finally lost his smile. “What in heaven's name was that?”

“Downdraft.” JayJay snaked out and connected Miller with Ahn. “Link up. One hand in front, one behind. Miller, you head straight on.”

“I could blunder into Nevada and not know it.”

“Something tells me this ain't gonna last.” JayJay started running.

A voice from the gray wilderness called out, “Where you headed?”

JayJay did not bother to reply. All his senses, all his energy, were hunkered down in one tight alarm.

Kelly needed him.

JayJay rode the signal like he was following a scent. He did not have time to figure out what was going on. He could not even afford to hope he was wrong. All the confusing mess of who he was and where he'd sprung from and where he might or might not be headed. All gone. He was surrounded by an impenetrable mist, and the only way he was going to make it happen was if he used everything, the fear and the rage and the weariness and the tension. Everything. And plugged it into the socket where his heart resided. Just another primitive hunter on the scent of game.

Just life and death was all it was.

He used a tracker's lope. Limbs all loose and everything on the move. Dodging branches that appeared at the last split second from the gray choking soup. He passed a few figures stumbling toward him. He checked the faces and in the instant he realized they were not Kelly, he gripped them hard enough to shock them from their fear and confusion. Pointed them straight back and said the only words that registered. Safety is
that way
.

Then he was gone.

His hands were fists in front of his face. His knees came up almost to his chest as he leaped over dead growth. He heard a rising thunder and was amazed to realize it was the sound of his own breathing.

Then he stopped. Fitted the kerchief tighter around his mouth and nose. Clamped it down with one hand. Breathed as shallow and soft as he could. And listened. Not for sound. For the guidance. The link. The compass of his being. Searching through the drifting embers and the searing smoke for the only spark that mattered.

He angled right. Running hard. Straight into the approaching fire.

Then he saw her.

“Oh, lady. No.”

She was slumped on the ground. A branch lay beside her. Her helmet was shattered. Which was supposed to be impossible. Her hair was spilled out and covered her face.

He stooped over her. Slid her into her arms. “Come on, Kelly. Let's get you out of here.”

She did not move. He could not tell if she was breathing at all.

JayJay reached around her inert form and pulled the kerchief from his mouth. He fitted his own lips over hers. Her face was oily with old sweat and felt so very very cold.

He breathed hard. Again. A third time. And waited.

She did not move.

The fire was so close it sounded like it surrounded him on all sides. The sense of guidance was gone now. He was just another firefighter trapped in a world where he shouldn't be.

“Come on, Kelly, speak to me.”

He was talking because he needed to. Not because he expected her to respond. She was too limp. Too still.

He set her back down. Stripped off his jacket and hers. Tossed his hat in the direction he thought the fire was probably coming from. Gave her four more quick breaths. Willing not just his breath into her lungs.

But his life as well.

Nothing.

He hefted her again and started walking. Not running. He could not hold her and keep his balance in the undergrowth and run. But he walked as fast as he could. Praying to God and to Kelly both. For one to show them the way out and the other to wake up. The farther he went, the more it seemed as though he was talking the same words to both.

He had no idea how long he carried her. Long enough for his arms to become one solid ache and for his back to grow numb and his legs to begin to stumble. But he was not setting her down. He stopped talking because he could not spare the breath. But the words were still there, slipping out of his brain and his heart in one steady stream. And he had the sense that she was listening. Hearing him talk about love and oneness and the wonder of finding her. How much it meant. How crossing over to wherever he was, the pain of the realization, the confusion, it was all okay. Because of her.

JayJay was not fully aware that he had fallen to one knee until he saw how much closer she had grown to the earth. He pushed himself back upright and saw where the earth had grown bloody. And realized it was his own. And decided it really did not matter so much.

He looked down at the bundle in his arms. And knew that if she was gone, he had no interest in staying behind any longer.

“JayJay!”

He heard the words but could not place them. Like sounds from another dimension. Which was kind of funny. Him being the person he was.

Arms crowded in on all sides. “I got her, JayJay. Let Kelly go. Come on, man. Unlock.
Somebody bring me oxygen!”

He felt the mouthpiece fitted over his lips. He did not breathe so much as drink. And coughed so hard it felt like his throat tore.

“Easy, big guy. It's okay. We got you.”

Ahn. The kid was crying again. The tears streaked his face and tore holes in his words. “The fire line held, JayJay. Come on, let's get you on your feet.”

Only then did he realize he was flat on his back. He felt other hands pulling him up. Britt. Claire. Everybody but the one who mattered.

He stared up and realized the sun had emerged.

He dropped his head and tried to pull off the mask. But other, stronger hands kept it in place. He saw a crowd ahead of them make tracks for the road, holding a limp form between them. One of Kelly's hands dangled flaccid and loose between the running men. Like she was waving him farewell.

Chapter 49

M
artin was on the outskirts of Salton City when his secretary called on his normal cell phone. “I have Mr. Turner for you.”

“Patch him through. Britt?”

“Yes, Mr. Allerby. What can—”

“What's this I hear about an accident?”

“It wasn't as serious as we feared at first. Apparently one of the fire crews left the fuel they used to ignite the fire line out in the forest.”

“The news coverage suggests the town is under threat.”

“It might have been. The rising wind was against us. And the backup crew vanished. We still haven't tracked them down.”

Martin took the Salton City exit. And kept his foot on the brake. He pulled over to the side of the off-ramp. Set on his blinker. And tasted the air.

His director was too calm.

“You're saying . . .”

“Everything is under control here. The press junket is still fanned out around the town, interviewing anybody who'll hold still. But the choppers have left. At least, I think they have. We're not getting buzzed anymore.”

“The radio news still claims the blaze is out of control.”

Britt actually chuckled. “You know the press. They hate to give up on a good story, even when it's dead. The fire is still smoldering in places. But volunteers from the town are out hosing things down. We lost the ranch, I guess you heard that.”

“No.” Martin touched his face. His flesh was numb to his own touch. “I hadn't.”

“I'm editing the takes now. Crazy how all this worked out. We scored big-time, is my first impression. Even losing the ranch will fit into the script with a minimum amount of rewrites. Did I tell you Peter finished the screenplay?”

“I don't think . . . No.”

“For a first-time feature writer, I'd say he's done an incredible job. Big events, emotive enough to drive us easily through the second act. The high concept is something I've never seen before, a huge payoff I think will catch most people by surprise, but at the same time leave them saying afterward that they could see it coming.” Britt was clearly tired, but selling hard. “You know what they say, if it's not on the page it will never be on the screen. Well, it's here. And I'd say we've got ourselves a hit.”

Martin leaned his head against the steering wheel. He wanted to reach through the phone and rip the smug calm from his director's throat. “You're sure the fire is out?”

“Pretty much. We had almost three hundred volunteers show up from the town. They were fantastic. Just one case of serious injury and smoke inhalation. Which is a miracle. Kelly Channing is down, but she's alive. The doctors are cautious but hopeful. JayJay saved her life, by the way. He was magnificent.”

Martin pushed himself off the steering wheel. But his spine held no strength. His head just kept moving back until it thunked against the seat rest.

Britt went on, “No casualties, more good press, friends all over town talking us up to the Hollywood junket, incredible takes in the can. I'd say we're on a roll here. Nothing but good news at this end.”

Martin felt like he'd been fitted with a crank, just grinding out the words. “I'm glad.”

“Was there anything else?”

“No. Nothing.”

“I'll get back to the edits, then. Maybe I'll drive this lot down myself, take time out to watch them with you. I'd love to see how they play on the big screen.”

Martin tossed his phone onto the other seat. He fumbled with his door handle and scrambled out, almost going down on all fours. He staggered away from the Touareg. His fists remained clenched to either side of his gut, fighting to keep himself from being sick.

He stared up at the sky. Amazing how many stars there were out here away from the Hollywood smog. The moon was rising, a huge disk glowing in smug golden shades. Like he'd suddenly emerged from a smoking pit, only to discover a different universe, a different reality. One where his power did not reach.

There was something more etched into the nighttime sky. Written across the face of the moon. Martin had heard it clear as the night air in Britt's voice.

The director knew.

Chapter 50

J
ayJay woke up in time to watch the bad moon rise.

The hospital held a somber tone. The room was dark and the other bed was empty. It was just him. Alone in the moonlight with smells and sibilant whispers.

He eased himself upright. The door was rimmed in yellow light, a warning sign wrapped around the frame. Telling him flat out he better be ready before he went out there and got told the news.

But he could not wait. Not even when the pain in his legs was so bad his groan came out like a half-formed scream.

Only then did he realize he was half-naked. Stripped down to his drawers.

Which meant the little black threads snaking over both shins and one knee and the opposite forearm were all visible. Seeing them caused the pain to fully emerge.

Ahn pushed open the door. Saw what he was staring at. And said, “You pass out on us, you miss a lot of the action.”

JayJay kept looking at his legs because he couldn't bear to see the kid's face. Not just yet. “Kelly?”

“She's in recovery.”

He just dropped. It was a silly thing to do. And of course the kid just panicked, seeing him slump to the floor. But JayJay managed to shush him before Ahn could call for the nurse. “Just find me some pants.”

Ahn left and came back with some hospital blues. “Everybody made it out, JayJay.”

“Take me to her.”

Ahn took a two-armed grip around his middle. “They're not letting anybody in yet.”

They pushed through the door. He waved away the cluster of people he did not want to even acknowledge. “Get me as close as you can.”

He wore a face tight enough for the others to keep their distance. Just kept going on grim determination and a need not to acknowledge how wobbly his limbs felt. Ahn let JayJay use him as a human crutch, like he didn't mind at all.

Which, truth be told, he probably didn't.

They entered the intensive care unit. The rooms fanned out in a semicircle around a large central desk. Ahn halted only when a nurse the size of a dozer demanded, “And just where do you think you're going?”

Kelly was near enough for him to smell her. Which was absurd, since the entire place was full of a scent sharp as airborne knives. “I just want to see her.”

“Who?”

“Kelly Channing.”

“And you are?”

JayJay just looked at her. “Please.”

His expression, the way the hoarsely spoken word carried across the empty hall, how he stood there barefoot and clinging to Ahn for support, was enough to melt the woman's stern expression. “I'll let you look in. But you mustn't speak.”

“I am much obliged.”

“Unit seven.” She led the way. The glass door slid open.

There in the gloom JayJay made out a face so pale as to appear unbound by earth or time. Her beautiful mouth was slack. Oxygen tubes snaked into both nostrils. Her eyes were shut. She was cleaned up and the electronic monitor on the bed's other side beeped the message that she was still with them. At least partly.