Jared looked into the rear view mirror studying the flames. They seemed to be following him down the long, narrow country road. "Damn, if the winds change we'll be screwed," he thought as he drove deeper into the canyon. This section of the canyon had sprouted up cabins over the past 4 years for people wanting to leave the city. Forests burn, they need to burn and now this canyon was an urban interface. It hadn't burned in almost 10 years; the carrier fuels were heavy; this could get real ugly, real fast.
Helen smelled smoke on the light breeze and wondered who would have a fire this time of year. The neighborhood association had warned all the residents not to do any burning because the fire danger was extreme. It's probably one of those prescribed burns she had read about. Something about fire cleaning up the forest floor and then the trees grew better. As she started up the stairs to her log cabin the phone began ringing. Opening the door she ran and picked up the receiver just in time to hear her mother's hysterical warnings about being burnt in the worse fire in the past decade.
"Mom, slow down. What are you talking about? What fire? The canyon is on fire. Ten thousand acres have burned. No, I haven't heard the news. Ok, ok I'll turn on the television. Mom, I wanted to move to the Canyon. I'd had enough of city life; sometimes a person has to reconnect with nature and I'd trade the chance of fire to gangs any day," Helen explained as she balanced the phone in the crook of her neck and reached for the television remote.
"Yes, mom I see. It's channel 24. Let me call you back I can't concentrate on what they're saying and your constant chatter. Yes, I promise I'll call you right back. I'm NOT on fire mom; I don't see flames. I promise, I'll call back," Helen placed the phone on the cradle and sat on the futon to watch the footage of the fire that seemed to be headed her way. She had made sure her cabin was cleared to 100 feet and that all the flammable containers and the wood stack were stored at opposite sides of the land beyond the 100 foot margin. No pine needles littered the roof. A fire traveling fast and crowning might pose a threat yet she had followed the Forest Service guidelines exactly. She knew they would send fire officials to warn residents when they needed to evacuate. No one had knocked at her door so that had to be a good sign.
Picking up the phone she was relieved when her mother's answering machine clicked on. "Mom, there is a danger. I'm going to pack the truck and be ready to pull out. No one has come by to warn me so I think I'm ok for now. I'll call later." Hanging up the phone she looked around and wondered aloud, "What has to go with me? I've pared down to the bare essentials so what has to go with me?" She immediately packed the dog's food and leash; she'd also need some clothes, basic food and water just in case the pass through the canyon was closed.