Stalemate

Chapter 6

First it had been the hostile bellows of flames snapping and crackling. Then the thick, black tendrils of smoke that trailed behind them. And last, it was the brilliant orange fumes rising into the heavens. That was all she saw.

One could beg to question how a girl so starved for color would notice that last. But before she could blink away the sleep in her eyes, Doon hoisted her up, sweeping her into the river of bodies to swallow them whole. Suspended in part by her hasty awakening and the lawlessness of what surrounded her, Ashtin bobbed over his shoulder like a work mule– no purpose, only blind obedience. She'd already resigned to keep her questions inside, no matter how much steam they kicked up to escape her mind. Doon was the one with purpose. He maneuvered them through the crowd effortlessly. Like it was a hobby of his. Ashtin felt almost useless.

Soon Doon had reached the denser part of the crowd. Flailing limbs and stiff bodies brushed against the pair. Those black curls of smoke were gaining fast now. Her skin was becoming clammy, and she felt a nasty cough brewing inside her. In a few sparse moments of clarity, when there seemed to be patches where others had diverted off in some other direction, Ashtin could see those flames taking each house on the hill, one by one. A wall of charcoal smoke was building where the rest had already been devoured.

Doon took a sudden detour and led them into the woods. There was no path, so Ashtin braced herself. Low branches snagged at her hair. Thistles scraped against her legs. Snapped twigs underfoot were sent flying. Ashtin heaved and begged to stop, but Doon's grip only tightened.

"Where are we going?" The words came out harshly. Ashtin nearly choked on them.

Doon must not have heard her. He barreled through the brush like it wasn't even there. His fear unsettled her. Doon was hardly ever roused unless his temper took hold, and he would rather be flogged until the sun went down than admit the sound of summer thunder started him. His pride always kept Ashtin wondering what he was feeling. Now he wore it on his sleeve.

This alone told her all she needed to know. This was not a wildfire or a mining accident. This was the fault of the Dordans.

And as all the weight of this fell on her, she remembered one of old Ms. Effridge's tangents, months ago. They were sitting on tree stumps behind the woman's house. A quilt draped over the rafters to keep them dry while rain fell hard. Ashtin remembered that part most because there'd been a drought since. Ms. Effridge stringed green beans, fervently yanking the stems off before tossing them away and consulting the bucket for a new one. Even covered by her goudy gloves, Ashtin could still see her angry hands shaking. "Somethin's gonna happen. They're gonna do somethin,' Mentley girl." She always called Ashtin the Mentley girl– and Doon the Mentley boy– never by her name. Sometimes Ashtin thought she'd forgotten it long ago.

"Who?" asked Ashtin, hardly listening.

"The straw-heads. I can feel it in my witherin' away bones."

Ashtin just waited.

"One way or another. One day they'll get too greedy. Just takin' won't be enough for 'em. And what'll Tudor do? Well. He's already welcomed 'em to it."

Then, as if she'd reached some great epiphany, she threw down her handful and stood with authority. She squinted through the rain and haze at the opposite hill and cast a bony finger, as if pointing to the Dordans themselves. "Hope I'm dead and gone 'fore it comes. Ain't no pale devil gonna take me."

Ashtin never knew what to make of what Ms. Effridge said. Doon always told her to just be quiet and listen. Let the old woman speak. Let her be mad. She did. Oftentimes she'd suspend her disbelief because some of what the woman said sounded half fanatical, but she always listened.

But perhaps she'd been right.

Ashtin thought of what Maud had said. She wondered if she'd been right, too. If Aldrich Tudor was dead now. How else could they be doing this? Were these fires happening everywhere? He'd been playing tug-a-war with them since they came. Doon said he was too agreeable. That he'd let them in, and take and take. Now she imagined that noose curling up around his neck. There was no one left to save them now.

In the distance, there was a loud thud. Another. One, two, three. All in a row. They came from different directions. Doon had stopped now, hid behind a tree. He was breathing hard. Together they noted how flocks of birds bolted from where the sounds came from. Ashtin clung to him. She craned her head to see his face. His brow was furrowed, and she could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. And then, with sudden vigor, Doon set her back down on the ground. Her legs nearly buckled beneath her, but he was already pulling on her.

"What, Doon? What?" she called as he snatched her away.

"Just run!" he shouted back.

Doon had always been faster than her. Her chest was screaming and her legs were shaking, but still he persisted, his grip on her hand unfaltering. They charged for the clearing beyond the woods. Low branches snagged at her hair and thistles scraped her exposed legs. As they got closer, Ashtin realized where they were. In the middle of the prairie was her old oak in all its glory. She took a quick glance back. Black smoke seeped into the sky where those sounds had come from.

As they neared the treeline, Doon picked up his pace. Like he realized something Ashtin hadn't. She heaved and gasped for air. Somehow it felt impossible to breathe. One last intake of air had her choking. The smoke had caught up to them now. But still they were running, seemingly faster than ever before.

Doon had become desperate.