He’ll spend days with the crew during fire season. Cheyenne doesn’t speak to me, but she peers at me as if I know something she doesn’t. It’s disconcerting, so I smile and nod and scurry each load out to Troy’s truck. Troy doesn’t speak much either. His something approaches, and it scares the wits out of him. Weeks ago, I would have thought him weak for being scared. Not now. Not since my swim with Salome. All I’ve known—the cloudy wall separating me from the world—is gone. In its place is fear. Fear in the morning and at night. Fear I understand—because I finally have something to lose. THAT NIGHT I FIGHT SLEEP, the battle raging as furious as a wildfire blaze. Hours pass and I can’t take it and slip into the living room. Troy is face to carpet. “What are ya doing?” I ask. He looks up slowly, his cheeks red and sweaty. “Do you pray, Jake? Do you ever pray or anything?” “No. The thought of being watched all the time freaks me out. Figure if I don’t talk to Him, I’ll slip under the radar.”
