Alligator Alley and civilization disappeared in the rearview, I was well within the speed limit.
Night was breaking up and the sun rose behind me. Clouds of ibis and white egrets flew up from their roosts in the Brazilian pepper trees beside the highway. I was alone on the road. I stopped gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing between me and certain death. It was all right now. I took deep breaths and let my shoulders relax. And then I heard it, the faint scream of a siren. Were they coming after me? Surely not!
But the siren kept coming, and I was the only person crossing the Alley. Why were they chasing me? Had something happened to Tito after he jumped from the truck?
And then I was sure I knew why they were after me. The blood on the window, someone had seen it and reported it. I should have wiped it off before I went into the restaurant.
In the rearview, lights spun and flashed. Blinker on, slowing and pulling off to the edge of the pavement, I was already working on my story. I put the truck in park and slumped forward on the wheel and started to cry. I should have made that call.
A police car and then a line of fire trucks screamed past me. I jerked upright and watched them go. They weren’t after me.
I took a deep breath. Carefully, I pulled back onto the highway and scanned the road ahead, expecting to come upon an accident, but before long I saw the reason for the emergency vehicles. Flames and a black plume of smoke climbed into the sky on my right. The nursery. I was certain the fire was at the nursery. It had to have started there, but it would affect more than just that property now.
Fires are part of the normal life of the Everglades, and the muck of the swamp is black from long-ago infernos, but a grass fire at this time of year was a catastrophe. In these drought conditions, a fire could burn for days, fed by the peat left behind when the water in the Glades dries up. A fire would consume thousands of acres and close down Alligator Alley.
“Please, not today.” I didn’t want to have to turn back because of smoke or, even worse, be stuck on the highway for hours, waiting for the visibility to improve so traffic could move again. Already, up ahead on the long flat stretch of highway, thick smoke was piling up. I rolled up my window and turned off the air, shutting it out as I drove into the cloud. More quickly than I thought possible, the road became enveloped in smoke. I thought I could smell burning meat. Ridiculous, I told myself, but the lecture didn’t stop me from gagging.
I couldn’t hear the sirens anymore. I slowed to a crawl, fighting to find the pavement and hoping no one had stopped in front of me, praying that anyone coming behind me and entering the thick wall of smoke wouldn’t plow into me. I turned on the radio and searched for the Everglades information channel at 107.9. When I found it all I got was a loop of facts about the Glades and static, nothing to tell me what was happening on the road in front of me.
I drove on blindly. It was foolish but stopping felt more dangerous. Besides, if I stopped on the road in the truck I could get rear-ended. Pulling off the road wasn’t an option either. No way was I going to hover on the edge of the tall prairie grasses with slithery things crawling up into the cab. Besides, sitting there the fire could reach me, surrounding me before I even knew it was near. I compromised by driving on the shoulder, half on the verge and half on the pavement. The feel of the concrete beneath my right tires was the only way to follow the highway.
I crept along until at last the smoke grew wispier and I could see the road again. On the opposite side of the road, a police cruiser blocked oncoming traffic. Another likely blocked traffic behind me.
I sped up, going home, going where I’d be safe.
CHAPTER 12
My business partner and life partner, Clay Adams, and I were living in a new development where only a third of the planned houses
Night was breaking up and the sun rose behind me. Clouds of ibis and white egrets flew up from their roosts in the Brazilian pepper trees beside the highway. I was alone on the road. I stopped gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing between me and certain death. It was all right now. I took deep breaths and let my shoulders relax. And then I heard it, the faint scream of a siren. Were they coming after me? Surely not!
But the siren kept coming, and I was the only person crossing the Alley. Why were they chasing me? Had something happened to Tito after he jumped from the truck?
And then I was sure I knew why they were after me. The blood on the window, someone had seen it and reported it. I should have wiped it off before I went into the restaurant.
In the rearview, lights spun and flashed. Blinker on, slowing and pulling off to the edge of the pavement, I was already working on my story. I put the truck in park and slumped forward on the wheel and started to cry. I should have made that call.
A police car and then a line of fire trucks screamed past me. I jerked upright and watched them go. They weren’t after me.
I took a deep breath. Carefully, I pulled back onto the highway and scanned the road ahead, expecting to come upon an accident, but before long I saw the reason for the emergency vehicles. Flames and a black plume of smoke climbed into the sky on my right. The nursery. I was certain the fire was at the nursery. It had to have started there, but it would affect more than just that property now.
Fires are part of the normal life of the Everglades, and the muck of the swamp is black from long-ago infernos, but a grass fire at this time of year was a catastrophe. In these drought conditions, a fire could burn for days, fed by the peat left behind when the water in the Glades dries up. A fire would consume thousands of acres and close down Alligator Alley.
“Please, not today.” I didn’t want to have to turn back because of smoke or, even worse, be stuck on the highway for hours, waiting for the visibility to improve so traffic could move again. Already, up ahead on the long flat stretch of highway, thick smoke was piling up. I rolled up my window and turned off the air, shutting it out as I drove into the cloud. More quickly than I thought possible, the road became enveloped in smoke. I thought I could smell burning meat. Ridiculous, I told myself, but the lecture didn’t stop me from gagging.
I couldn’t hear the sirens anymore. I slowed to a crawl, fighting to find the pavement and hoping no one had stopped in front of me, praying that anyone coming behind me and entering the thick wall of smoke wouldn’t plow into me. I turned on the radio and searched for the Everglades information channel at 107.9. When I found it all I got was a loop of facts about the Glades and static, nothing to tell me what was happening on the road in front of me.
I drove on blindly. It was foolish but stopping felt more dangerous. Besides, if I stopped on the road in the truck I could get rear-ended. Pulling off the road wasn’t an option either. No way was I going to hover on the edge of the tall prairie grasses with slithery things crawling up into the cab. Besides, sitting there the fire could reach me, surrounding me before I even knew it was near. I compromised by driving on the shoulder, half on the verge and half on the pavement. The feel of the concrete beneath my right tires was the only way to follow the highway.
I crept along until at last the smoke grew wispier and I could see the road again. On the opposite side of the road, a police cruiser blocked oncoming traffic. Another likely blocked traffic behind me.
I sped up, going home, going where I’d be safe.
CHAPTER 12
My business partner and life partner, Clay Adams, and I were living in a new development where only a third of the planned houses
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