Breaking Point

horse.
    “If you don’t have a horse,” Underwood said to the other man on foot, “you’ll have to share.”
    With that, he turned his horse and cantered through the trees up the trail. One of the mounted agents helped the crippled agent get behind him on his horse and the two of them followed the others.
    The agents left weapons, gear bags, and body armor scattered on the ground.
    Before they all vanished into the dark timber, Underwood returned and cocked his head at Joe.
    “Aren’t you coming?”
    “Nope.”
    “Then where are you going?”
    “I’m going to go find Butch,” Joe said, and turned Toby south, toward Savage Run.
    “Joe!” Underwood called. Joe turned around in his saddle just in time to catch the satellite phone Underwood had tossed through the air.
    “Call in your position if you get in trouble,” Underwood said before he waved good-bye and rode away.

30
    DAVE FARKUS COULD NOW SEE WHERE HE WAS running due to an unnatural, hellish light that filled the sky and illuminated the ground and penetrated the scrub trees they’d entered. The entire sky was fused orange and streaked with gray bands. Ash, like snow, filtered down through the air. He assumed it was dawn, but there was no way to tell because he couldn’t see the sun through the cover of smoke.
    Butch Roberson no longer enforced the decorum he’d insisted on before the fire started and the three of them jogged abreast, zigzagging around trees and clumps of brush. Sweat poured down Farkus’s spine into his jeans, and his shirt clung to his back. It was worse for McLanahan, though, he noticed. McLanahan looked like he’d just stepped out of a shower fully clothed. His face was flushed red, and his breathing was ragged and forced.
    Behind them was a roar of white noise. The temperature had risen, and it was getting warmer by the minute. The air itself was hot and acrid, and Farkus tried to filter it by holding his shirtsleeves up to his face while he ran.
    His throat was raw from breathing in smoke-filled air, and his eyes watered. It was like standing in front of a campfire, filling his lungs with the smoke.
    “Hold up,” Butch said, nearly out of breath himself.
“Hold up.”
    Farkus stopped and looked over to see Butch pulling a long knife out of a sheath and approaching him. Had he decided to do them in and proceed alone?
    “Hold out your hands.”
    Relieved, Farkus did as he was told.
    Butch cut the zip ties free and turned to do the same for McLanahan, who now held his hands out.
    Butch said, “You’re both free to go.”
    “Go where?” McLanahan replied angrily.
    “Anywhere you want.”
    McLanahan gestured behind them. “There’s fire
everywhere
. Where do you expect us to go?”
    “I’m sticking with you,” Farkus said to Butch. Butch nodded reluctantly.
    He said, “I can’t guarantee your safety if you stay with me.”
    “I’d rather take my chances with you than stay with Fatty.”
    McLanahan reacted with anger and panic, and turned so he could look behind them, as if to find a path through the oncoming fire. He spat a curse and shook his head.
    At that moment, less than a mile away, was a loud popping sound, followed by another.
    “Is somebody shooting?” Farkus asked Butch.
    “No,” Butch said, shaking his head. “Those are trees exploding. When the sap in the trees gets superheated, trees literally blow up.”
    “Jesus,” Farkus said. “Exploding trees.”
    “That’s going to be us if we don’t get moving,” McLanahan said. His eyes were wet and bloodshot, rimmed with red.
    Butch unshouldered his pack and dug into it and emerged with a spare long-sleeved shirt. He used his knife to cut it into wide strips, then doused the strips with water from his Nalgene bottle.
    “Tie these around your mouths,” he said. Then, to McLanahan: “Tie yours extra tight.”
    “Are we still headed for the canyon?” Farkus asked as he covered his mouth with the cool, wet cloth and knotted it at the nape of his neck. It felt good.
    Butch nodded. “I don’t think we have any choice but you can do whatever you want. I doubt the fire can jump the canyon, and I know Batista can’t. So if we can get there, we might have a chance to get out of this.”
    Farkus nodded, ready to go.
    “How in the hell are you going to get across?” McLanahan said.
    Butch threaded his arms through his pack and buckled it back on.
    “I guess we’ll find out,” he said.
    “That’s bullshit,” McLanahan said. He looked