Rainbow by K.L. Savage

 

 

Seventeen years old

The car door slams shut, and Dad throws his hands on his hips as he stares at his pride and joy—the new Range Rover. It’s loaded to the brim. The bicycles are mounted on the back, and the kayaks are strapped to the roof.

“That’s a thing of a beauty,” he announces proudly. He kind of reminds me of a superhero preparing to launch into the air.

I close the tailgate of my truck where the extra camping supplies are and chuckle. “Dad, it’s an SUV, not a shrine.”

“It’s kind of a shrine. A camping shrine. I knew this SUV was a good idea.”

My mom walks around him carrying a jug of water. She places it in the back of the truck, then turns around and pats my dad on the shoulder. “Tell that to our bank account every month when we have to pay for this thing.”

“Hey, safety and luxury aren’t cheap. You guys need to see the bigger picture.” He holds up his hands and makes an L shape with each one, framing the car in his line of sight as he closes one eye. “Better SUV. Better opportunities.”

“You’re a damn nut,” Mom laughs right before giving him a kiss. “But it’s why I love you.”

That’s the one thing about my parents: they still love each other after twenty years of being together—a sickening amount.

I hope to have that kind of love one day.

“Get a room.” I keep a smile on my face, so they know I’m kidding. I lean my elbows against the edge of the tailgate and call out for my little brother. “Greer! Come on, we have to get going.” He comes running out of the house with a football in his hands.

He always has that damn pigskin. Fifteen years old, and he’s already the varsity quarterback for the high school. He lives and breathes that game. Honestly, I’m jealous. I wish I was passionate about something like Greer is. Unfortunately, I never could get into anything or stick with any sport. Even in my studies, I’m average. I just haven’t found anything to be driven or motivated about. When I go to college, I hope that changes, but I’m kind of skating by in life until then.

“Okay, okay. I’m here. Sorry. You know I can’t go anywhere without this thing.” He tosses it in the air in a spiral above his head right before it falls straight into his hands. “I want to work on my long-range with you, Nathan. I need to throw ten more yards.”

“Dude, you’re fifteen. The reason why you can’t throw it another ten yards is ‘cause you haven’t hit puberty—”

“Okay, that’s enough, boys,” my dad interrupts, pointing to the truck. “We need to get going before we lose daylight.”

My eyes drift off to the sky, where thick clouds of smoke are beginning to block the sun. “Dad, you’re sure it’s safe to go camping, right? The wildfire is growing and—”

He silences me by slapping his hands on my shoulders. “Hey, I wouldn’t put our family in harm’s way. The fire is a hundred miles in the opposite direction, and the winds are in our favor. They don’t expect it to change direction at this point. So nothing is stopping us from our annual family trip. Okay?”

“Yeah, I know. I guess I’m just worried.” I dig in my pockets for the truck keys and swallow. I’m getting a bad feeling about this trip. I don’t know if I’m worried for no reason, but something tells me that we shouldn’t go.

Dad knows best, right?

“Let’s go. We have a four-hour drive ahead of us.” He squeezes my biceps before letting me go, then heads to the passenger side of the SUV to open the door for Mom.

I let out a deep exhale and get into the driver’s seat. Greer climbs in the truck next, and we buckle up at the same time. The restored 1965 Ford F-100 grumbles to life. God, I love the sound of this engine. I guess that’s one thing I get excited about: this beauty. Dad and I worked on this project together when I was fourteen. It took a whole summer, but we souped up the engine, replaced most of the panels, reupholstered the interior, re-chromed the grill, and gave it a sick new paint job. When he got it for me, it was a rust bucket from a junkyard. I doubt he spent more than a couple hundred bucks on it.

And now it’s priceless.

“What’s wrong? You’re quiet,” Greer observes, reaching for the radio and turning the knob to turn up the music. It’s on a classic rock station—as always. No one changes it.

Ever.

It’s my one rule about getting into this truck.

“Nothing’s wrong. What makes you say that?” I follow Dad out of the driveway and take a right, waving at Mr. Greene, who is currently watering his garden in his red robe. He scowls at me like he does every time I wave.

Eventually, I’ll get the man to not sneer when he sees me.

“Nathan.”

I turn onto the highway, following the neon green and yellow bikes attached to the new Range Rover Dad keeps going on about. “What?” I snap. My eyes are more concentrated on the glowing clouds in the sky. They’re gray, but with the sun behind them, hints of red and orange are shining through.

“What’s going on with you?” Greer turns his baseball cap around and spins the football in his hands.

“Nothing. It’s just the sky. It’s crazy, right? That smoke is traveling far.”

“Yeah, but Dad said for us not to worry. He checked into it. Everything is fine.”

“I know that. Hey, why don’t you lean back and rest? You must still be tired after kicking East High’s ass last night. I’ll wake you if we stop.”

“Four touchdowns,” he grins in response. “You sure? You know I’m a good passenger. I like to help when you drive.”

“I know, but I can handle it. Get some rest. It looks like you haven’t slept in days with those bags under your eyes.” I reach around the driver’s seat and grab the pillow I stuffed behind it. “Here.” I toss it to him. “Blanket is behind you.”

“Thanks,” he yawns. “Yeah, I’m going to take you up on that.” He snags the blanket from the backseat and covers himself with the blue plaid throw Mom made a few years back.

I try to give him a comforting smile, but even I can feel the tightness in my lips. I want to turn around and go home.

“You worry too much,” he grumbles before leaning his head against the window and shutting his eyes.

I do worry too much. I worry about everything when it comes to my family. I don’t have a bad relationship with my parents. I don’t hate my brother, and I have the picture-perfect life every kid could want. My brother and I are as thick as thieves, and my best friends are my mom and dad. It isn’t typical, but when I feel like something could threaten my family, no matter how small that ‘thing’ is, I worry. I stress. It’s my job to protect everyone.

Mom and Dad are too laid back and chill about everything in life. They’re still stuck in a hippie phase of their life. Practically every night, they smoke pot under the stars and laugh about anything and everything. My middle name is Rainbow, for fuck’s sake, because Mom said the first time she met Dad was at a peace rally underneath a rainbow banner.

I mean… what the fuck? I can’t tell anyone that. I’d never hear the end of it.

They’re too caught up in la-la land to see the real world like I do. My brother is too young to understand, and he’s caught up in himself and football—which he should be.

I’m the responsible one. It’s up to me to think clearly for everyone, and taking this trip is a bad idea. My gut is twisting.

I look over at Greer and see him fast asleep. My heart kicks my chest at the thought of something happening to him. He’s too young to experience anything life-altering, and my instincts tell me this fire is going to be that something.

I don’t know how or why, but I feel it.

“I’m so fucking paranoid,” I mumble to myself but turn the station for the first time in a year until I find a news broadcasting channel. If I hear we’re out of harm’s way from the experts, I’ll feel better.

We head east into Yosemite National Park. The further we go, the lighter the smoke gets since the fire is in central California. Finally, my hands lose their tight grip on the wheel, and I start to relax. Maybe it’s all in my head. I need to chill out, like Greer said.

“The wildfire fifty miles from San Francisco is only five percent contained. Firefighters are working around the clock, and they’re even calling for reinforcements from nearby states. I hate to say it, but this might be the deadliest fire we’ve seen. People in Northern California are still in the clear but might have some clarity issues with the smoke filling the sky. If anything changes, we promise to keep you—”

I flip the radio to the classic rock station and do my best to put the fire out of my mind. Wildfires can’t move that fast, right?

We stop an hour and a half later at some mom-and-pop gas station, like we always do, for drinks and to top off the gas in the cars.

“Is your radio working?” Dad asks as he screws the gas cap off the Range Rover.

Huh. I didn’t even notice the music had been replaced with static. I turn the volume knob, and the white noise jolts Greer awake. He bangs his head on the window, and I snicker.

“Ow.” He rubs the spot on his head. “I thought you said you were going to wake me.”

“I did,” I chuckle, then duck my head out of the car to talk to Dad. “No, nothing.”

“Ah, no big deal. It’s probably smoke interfering.” Dad waves away the concern as the gas begins to flow through the nozzle into the tank.

“Yeah, probably.” I try to sound as if I’m not nervous. I’m shaking it off.

I stare off into the sky, which is darker now. The clouds are thick and black again, and I swear the orange hue no longer belongs to the sun but to the intensity of flames.

“Dad, we should turn around and go home. I mean, it’s camping, right? So it isn’t a big deal.”

“Son, we’re going to be fine. It looks scary, and it is, but the fire isn’t near us. I promise.” He jiggles the handle of the pump nozzle before hanging it back in its spot on the machine. “It’s the last time we’ll do this before you graduate high school, Nathan. It’s important.”

Now I know why he’s so insistent.

I lower my voice to a whisper so Greer can’t hear me. “I’d rather us be safe, Dad. Something doesn’t feel right.”

He cups the back of my head and gives me a sad, sappy smile. “Always the protector. I’m so proud of you, but this weekend, I’m the one who’s protecting you. I’ve done my homework on this fire. We’ll be okay.”

“Come on. I want to roast some s’mores and tell ghost stories!” Mom shouts out the window and turns on a flashlight under her face, so it gives her an ashen appearance. “Boo!”

Dad gasps and slams his hand against his chest. “Gosh, honey. You scared the life out of me.”

She giggles, knowing he wasn’t scared at all.

Can’t they be serious for two seconds? Not everything is a fucking fairy tale. We don’t live in la-la land. I slam my fist against the hood of the truck before walking around.

“Nathan—”

“—It’s fine, Dad. I’ll follow. Let’s go.” I shut the driver’s side door harder than necessary and turn the key. The exhaust sputters and purrs as I wait for Dad to pull out of the gas station parking lot. But, of course, being a worrywart means no one believes me when I’m worried about something because I worry about everything.

“Dad is right—”

“Greer. Shut up. Dad isn’t always right about everything. He’s careless right now. With this smoke, we shouldn’t even be out, but what the hell do I know?” I grab the gear shift and jerk it into drive. The tires crunch over the gravel and since the road is empty, we don’t have to wait to turn onto it.

“I just think you’re reading too much into it.”

“I hope for all of our sakes that you’re right.” I rub my left hand over my mouth and follow my dad. Greer and I fall into a tense, awkward silence. I don’t blame him for being mad at me. These trips we go on are special, and I’m being the buzzkill that’s ruining it.

The forest becomes thicker the further east we drive, but so does the smoke. It’s almost impossible to see. Surely breathing this stuff isn’t a good thing. The only thing on the SUV I can see is the red glow of taillights. Dad must be braking to slow down.

“Is that snow?” Greer peeks out the window to watch the stuff fall.

“Can’t be. It’s too hot.” It builds on the windshield, so I turn on the wipers, but that only causes it to smear, making it impossible to see. I clear it off with the windshield wiper fluid. “It isn’t snow. It’s ash,” I realize, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“That’s not good, right? That’s bad? That has to be really bad.”

“It isn’t great, Greer.” I tighten my hands on the wheel and continue to follow Dad.

Greer tries the radio again, but static is the only thing that comes through, along with a few jumbled words I can’t quite make out.

“Damn, it’s hot,” Greer mutters, taking off his baseball cap and running his fingers through his thick hair. He wipes his forehead with his arm, and I double-check to make sure it’s the air conditioning that’s on, not the heat.

The air is on full blast.

And it’s getting hotter.

“We have to turn around,” I whisper in fear. My voice shaking from the truth.

That’s the bitch about the truth, isn’t it? Sometimes it’s so strong and makes you terrified that it leaves your voice weak and trembling. But no matter how unstable it makes you, the truth should be shouted.

Even if it’s just above a whisper.

I honk the horn just as a large gust of wind howls, rocking the truck from side to side.

“Nathan?” Greer grips the side of the door and his knuckles turn white. His eyes are round with fear as he looks around. “I can’t see anything. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” The wind takes the opportunity to howl again, like a wolf echoing in the darkness. The sound sends a sliver of terror down my spine.

I turn on the lights, but I gasp when I see thick ash all around us like snow. I can’t see a thing. The lights are actually making it worse. I flip them off and try to keep an eye on Dad’s taillights.

It’s my turn to wipe the sweat off my brows. My shirt is starting to stick to my skin, and I can’t tell if it’s hot or my nerves getting the best of me. “Call Dad,” I tell Greer. “Now!”

“Okay, alright. I’m calling.” He presses the phone against his ear and his cheeks pink as his Adam’s apple bobs. “There’s no service.”

“What do you mean?”

“It isn’t ringing. It’s just… it’s just an odd dialup sound that says, ‘I’m sorry, your call cannot be completed.’ What’s that mean, Nathan? What’s it mean?” he shouts at me as he begins to panic. His eyes dart around the truck, and a mustache of sweat forms above his top lip.

“Hey, don’t make me slap you. We have to stay calm and focused, okay? Panicking won’t do us any good. Understand?”

He nods sporadically and the shaggy ends of his hair bob over his forehead.

“It’s going to be fine.” No sooner do the words leave my mouth when a massive explosion of fire ignites from the tree line.

The heat from the blast is suffocating. I can’t breathe. Dad swerves to the right to miss the tendrils of the flames reaching for him. He skids to a stop and fishtails, the passenger side of the car slamming against a tree.

“Mom!” Greer shouts, clawing at the dashboard.

Another wave of fire whistles from between the branches, and soon the treetops are burning. The heat is becoming too much to bear.

“Mandatory…” static, “evacuation…wind—” the radio cuts out again “—changed direction. The fire has merged with another wildfire and has started to engulf Yosemite Natio—.” The radio collapses back into white noise, adding to the suspense of the blaze flickering around us.

“I thought it was too far away. How did the fire get here?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about fires. It said it merged with another one. I didn’t know there was another one!” I knew it. I fucking knew we shouldn’t have come out here.

I wipe my face again, soaking my hand with sweat as I swerve right and park on the side of the road away from the flames. “Stay in the truck, Greer.”

“You can’t be serious? I can’t let you go out there alone.” He reaches for the door handle, and I slam my arm against his chest, so he’s pinned against the seat.

The glow of the flames reflects off the window as they inch closer to the road. “You can’t get out of this truck; do you understand me?” I have to raise my voice because the wildfire is loud. So much louder than I ever would have imagined.

The whoosh and roar of the fire snap at us like a whip. The fiery arms reach across the road, threatening to engulf us in their deadly embrace. I hold my brother against the seat even harder. The wild thump of his heart beats rapidly against my forearm as his innocent eyes round at me in fear.

“Stay here, do you understand me?” I repeat.

He nods, and I notice the sides of his head are damp with sweat.

I hear a loud crack like a gunshot—no, not a gunshot. The wood is breaking. As I look around, all I can see are the embers licking trunks of the trees as hell breathes its heat onto them. Another groan sounds, and I turn my head over my shoulder to see a tall tree falling over the road, cutting through the smoke and ash.

And it’s coming right at us.

“Get down, Greer!” I cover him with my body as the tree slams onto the bed of the truck. The front wheels lift off the ground, and Greer screams into my ear, ending in a sob. The truck bobs and dips from the pressure, but the tires never touch the ground again.

I lift up and stare out the back window to see the camping supplies catching on fire. I grip Greer’s neck, then hold his face. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Are we going to die? Are Mom and Dad going to die?”

“No one is dying. Okay? We have to get out of this truck. We have to go check on Mom and Dad.”

The truck bobs again, and Greer shouts and digs his blunt nails into my arm. “Okay. Alright. I just want to get out of here.”

“You and me both.” I pat his cheek and look out the front windshield to see Dad, but I can’t see through the smoke. “Okay, you ready?” I ask as I reach for the door handle. I hiss when the heat strikes my fingers. “It’s hot. Be quick.” I open the door, and the smoke from the fire billows in, fogging the cab.

The smoke dries my throat, the ash brushes against my skin, and the heat stings my eyes. Shrugging off my zip-up hoodie and placing it in front of my face, I run around the truck just as my brother jumps to the ground. I remove the hoodie from my face and press it against his. “Do not remove this, you hear me?”

“What about you?” he asks, removing the damn thing from his mouth to talk to me.

I don’t care about myself, but I gather the front of my shirt and put it over my mouth. Above us is another terrifying creak; without looking, I press Greer closer to the truck and take the pain of the heat. I glance around and stare at a tree across the road that has flames traveling up the body to the very tip. It sways. The wind growls again and gives me a moment of clarity to see the SUV smashed against the tree. Dad’s head is pressed against the steering wheel, and he begins to move at the same time the tree does.

“Dad! Get out of the car!” I try a fruitless attempt to yell. But I know he can’t hear me. So, I turn around and grab Greer. “You stay right here. Okay? Don’t fucking move from this spot.”

“Okay. Nathan, be careful.”

I run to the SUV, and the tree snaps. I slide to a stop and watch it fall. Sparks fly from the branches, reminding me of fireflies swirling out on a summer’s night.

It’s oddly comforting for a moment. But, oddly beautiful, in a split second, I’m not thinking of absolute destruction.

“Nathan!” Greer screams as the tree falls, and I run backward, slipping on the dirt.

I trip, and my ass hits the ground first. The dirt is hot under my hands, and I scurry away as quick as I can, coughing from the smoke. I watch in horror as the tree crushes the SUV my parents are in. The smoke and ash circle back around as the wind tornadoes around us, blocking the view of the metal crunching and scraping against the tree.

“No,” I gasp with tears in my eyes. “No! Dad! Mom!” I scream for them and get to my feet.

“Nathan,” my brother sobs.

Fuck, I don’t know what to do. Who do I go to?

I run back to Greer, inhaling scorching hot smoke. I place my shirt in front of my face and squeeze my eyes shut. They’re dry, yet tears are falling from them. My heart is breaking, and my hope is beginning to run out. “I’m going to go get them. Stay right here, do you understand me? Right here.”

“I’m coming with you!” he screams behind the folded-up hoody.

“No, the hell you aren’t! I can’t worry about you and them. Stay right fucking here, Greer.” I hate leaving him behind, but I don’t think my parents have much time before it’s too late. I sprint through the smoke jumping over a rebellious flame that’s lit the grass on the side of the road. The tip of the tree is burning another.

The blaze has officially moved across the street.

When I get to the car, the heat from the fire chokes me. “Dad?” I yell. “Mom?” The metal groans, and the SUV tilts to the left. Something hisses, and I glance down to see the tire melting into the ground. I reach for the handle and hiss as it burns me. “Fuck!”

I rip my shirt off, and my skin recoils from the temperature. I wrap the shirt around my hand and reach for the handle again. I yank on it, but it won’t open. “Dad.” I bang against the glass. “Dad, open the door!” I cough and turn my head away.

I cry out when a burnt piece of the tree drops from the car and onto my wrist. I drop my hand and hold it, kicking the ground as pain rips through my arm.

With my anger in the forefront of my mind, I run toward the SUV and shout, slamming my shoulder against the glass. I can’t take the heat much longer. The fire is getting worse, bigger, brighter, and it’s so fucking hot. “Dad, please!” I beg him, and he finally turns his head my way, blood dripping down his face.

I see Mom move too, holding her arm against her chest.

“Come on! Unlock the door. We have to go. Now. We have to go!” I shout, and Dad tries the door again just as the back of the car catches fire. “No! Dad! Duck your head!” I rear my fist back and hit the glass, but it won’t budge. “No,” I sob, hot tears pouring onto my cheek.

“Nathan.” The roof begins to cave in, and I continue hitting the glass.

Why won’t it break?

“Nathan!” Dad shouts.

He places his hand against the window. “Go. Get your brother and go.”

“I’m not leaving you.” I shake my head and throw my body against the car, hot metal be damned.

Mom begins to cough as the fire becomes hotter and the smoke becomes thicker inside.

“You have to!” Dad shouts. “Leave us. I love you. We love you.”

“No! I won’t.” I continue running my body into the driver’s side. I can’t give up.

“Rainbow!” Mom yells my middle name, and my eyes drift to hers. The fire is licking the back of her seat, and I know she’s in pain. Her skin is turning red. “You’ll always be our rainbow. Go! Go!”

“I don’t want you to see us die.” Dad lets out a painful, agonizing scream as the fire becomes too hot. “Fucking go, damn it!”

I press my hand against the window and drop my head. “I love you.”

“We know.”

I lock eyes with Dad just as the roof caves in, crushing them with redwood tree and fire. I run backward and lift my arm to block my eyes as the bright flames lick the sky.

The screams of my parents burning to death sear into my mind, ripping my heart out of my chest.

They don’t last long—the screams. They fade into the whoosh and crackle of the fire as the flames claim them, along with so many other things.

“We have to go.” I grab Greer by the front of the shirt and drag him toward the tree line that’s just starting to burn.

“What about Mom and Dad?” he asks.

I don’t know how to tell him. How do I tell my brother I couldn’t save them?

Tugging my shirt back on, I yank the hoodie from him and rip it down the middle, giving him the other half. I hold it to my face; while the temporary relief is good, it doesn’t do anything about the damage that’s already been done.

My lungs burn.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep going. The further into the forest we go, the flames lessen, but the heat and smoke are still there.

“We have to go back for Mom and Dad!” He yanks his hand from mine and begins to sprint in the direction we just came from.

I do the only thing I know to do—I tackle him.

We hit the ground with a hard thud, and I turn him over. I yank him up by the collar of his shirt and shake him. “We can’t go back. They’re gone, Greer. Gone.”

“No!”

“Yes. I’m sorry.” A sob catches in my throat as Dad’s pleading eyes beg me to run. “I couldn’t save them.”

“No,” he repeats, but this time his shoulders tremble as he cries.

I gather him in my arms, holding him tight as he mourns our parents. How could everything be fine one minute and the next… our lives are changed forever?

Life likes to be unpredictable, but until now I’d yet to experience the cruelty—and damn, it’s a cruel bitch.

“We have to keep going, Greer. Come on.” I tug him to his feet. “I know it’s hard, but it’s our only option if we want to live. While we walk, try to get a signal on your phone. Call 9-1-1.” Twigs snap as we walk, echoing into the empty smoky forest.

It won’t stay empty long.

The fire is right behind us, and if it’s as unforgiving as it was when it took my parents, I have no doubt it will burn us to the ground, too, if we don’t hurry.

Death has a funny way of showing when it will come around. But I guess that’s the point; you never know when it will.

And when it does, you’re never ready.

I wheeze, and my mind begins to drift as my vision sways.

“Nathan?” Greer’s voice is hoarse from the smoke. “Are you okay?”

I try to answer, but I can’t. I just don’t have it in me. I’m too tired. I trip over a tree root protruding from the ground and succumb to my exhaustion.

Maybe a minute of rest is okay.

“Nathan!” Greer falls to his knees and kneels by my side. “Please, be okay.”

“Just-need-a-minute,” I manage between the struggled breaths.

“Please, don’t die. You’re all I’ve got.” He takes my hand in his, and as easy as it would be to close my eyes and maybe let nature take its course, I can’t leave him behind.

I dig deep for my willpower. Past the devastation of losing my parents. Past the fear. Past the exhaustion. I try to find the little bit of strength I have left. I squeeze his hand and sink into the dirt. It’s comfortable for the most part, almost soft and cushiony, reminding me a lot of the leather seats in the Ford I just left behind.

“I can’t get through to 9-1-1,” Greer says. “I’m going to keep trying.”

Time seems to crawl and fly at the same time. It’s getting hotter. The orange glow of the fire is getting brighter, and it’s only a matter of time before it’s here.

Suddenly I hear something different. A steady whoosh that reminds me of a heavy-duty fan chopping up the air. The air begins to swirl. Something falls from the sky between the trees, landing with a loud thud onto the ground. A flurry of voices shouts around me, and then I notice Greer’s hand is gone.

“Greer,” I choke, watching as someone puts him in a basket.

I think. I might be dreaming.

“Hey, kid,” a man greets me, crowding my face. He’s wearing a fireman’s mask, and he puts one that looks similar over my mine too. A gush of oxygen hits me, and my lungs expand. “There you go. Breathe.”

Breathe.

I don’t think I can remember how.

“Greer—”

“—He’s fine.”

“Who are you?” I want to say guardian angels, but I know that isn’t the case.

“Smokejumpers, firefighters, whatever. We’re here to get you to safety. You did good, kid. You did really good.” And then I’m weightless, and the firefighters get left behind.

When I’m inside the helicopter, and I see Greer’s relieved face, I know what I want to do.

No more coasting.

No more average Nathan.

I want to be a smokejumper. For Greer. For me. But primarily for Mom and Dad.

Maybe if I knew what I was doing, I could have saved them.

I close my eyes, at last, hoping when I wake up, Dad would have listened to me.

And we wouldn’t have gone anywhere.