Escaping the Giant Wave by Peg Kehret Page A

the woods and then they catch fire?”
    I glanced over my shoulder. Daren still stood in the road near the Frontier Lodge watching the fire.
    â€œThe firefighters are already battling the blaze,” I said. “I don’t think it will get out of control.”
    â€œThey’re only fighting one fire,” BeeBee said. “What about the Totem Pole Inn?”
    â€œMaybe they’ll let it burn,” I said, “since it was going to get torn down soon, anyway. Officially, the inn is closed. The firefighters may not know anyone was staying there. They won’t let the fire spread to the trees, though.”
    We continued up the road. I wasn’t sure that this was the right choice. The sign had said a tsunami could follow an earthquake within a few minutes. It had been at least fifteen or twenty minutes since the earthquake. Did that mean there was no danger of a tsunami? If so, we might be safer at the beach or near the hotel, where other people were.
    Daren’s theory about the fire spreading made sense, and as far as I knew no tsunami warning had been issued. Of course, if there was a warning in effect, I wouldn’t know it.
    My mind went in circles like Alexander the Greatest when he chases his tail. One second I thought we should hurry up the hill; the next second I wondered if we should return to the hotel area.
    The thing that kept me going uphill was my memory of Dad’s voice saying, “You got that?” after he had read the sign to us. Mom and Dad trusted me to take care of BeeBee and myself. By doing what the sign said to do, I hoped I was keeping us safe.
    BeeBee trudged at my heels. “I’m tired,” she said, “and hungry. I want my pizza and my milkshake.”
    â€œI don’t think room service delivers out here,” I said.
    BeeBee didn’t laugh. “I want Bill.” Her voice quavered as if she were going to start crying again.
    I felt like crying myself. Besides losing Bill, we had lost all of our clothes and our luggage and our plane tickets home. BeeBee hadn’t thought of any of those things yet, and I didn’t intend to tell her. I could imagine the moaning I’d hear once she realized her new sun hat was gone and the bucket of shells and her favorite pajamas that had dollar signs all over them.
    Now that we were away from the burning Totem Pole Inn, the road was more narrow. Ruts and potholes made it hard to walk without looking down all the time. The farther we got from the ocean, the more the smoke hung in the air. My eyes smarted. I kept blinking, but it didn’t help much.
    â€œWhy isn’t anyone else going this way?” BeeBee asked.
    I had wondered that myself and didn’t know the answer.
    â€œMaybe there are wild animals around here,” BeeBee said.
    â€œWild animals fear fire,” I said. “They’d run away even faster than we can.”
    That seemed to satisfy her.
    We had walked another five minutes, when a concrete barrier blocked our way. A small sign beside it said: “No vehicles beyond this point.”
    We walked around the barrier and found that the pavement had ended. We were now on a dirt path that headed up at a much steeper incline than before.
    My hand throbbed where I had burned it on the door handle, and my throat hurt from all the smoke.
    I stopped walking long enough to wipe my face on the bottom of my shirt.
    â€œDo you hear that?” BeeBee said.
    I listened. Somewhere in the distance I heard, “Moo. Moo. Moo.”
    â€œIt’s cows!” BeeBee said.
    â€œIs that the kind of wild animal you were worried about?”
    â€œI meant cougars or grizzly bears. I hear a whole herd of cows.”
    I knew that animals sometimes sense a natural disaster ahead of time. I’d read about dogs and cats back home in Kansas who pace nervously around before a tornado strikes. One woman in our town had a parrot who, she claimed, knew a tornado was headed in its