And barking.
I stop.
The barking comes again and my heart leaps into my mouth.
“Butch!” I scream.
Pete turns and seizes my arm. “Where?”
I point across the creek. But the far bank is bare. Nothing but a few black trees before a withering sheet of flame. We strain our ears against the crackling and snapping of the fire, but the barking does not come again.
“I heard him, Pete! I swear I did! He’s over there!” I start to sob. My dog is over there in that hell, trapped, surrounded on some island of unburned earth, alone and scared and wondering why we ain’t come to save him. Frantic, I sweep that far bank again and beg God to let me see my dog come running out of it all.
But I don’t.
I see someone else.
A wiry shape runs before that wall of fire, stumbles, crashes into the brush, rises, staggers on.
Caleb Madliner.
Caleb comes running for the creek, bent low, his hands holding his shirt up over his nose and mouth, his body shaking with coughs. And running right behind him, barking like mad, chasing him away from the fire, is Butch.
Pete and I rush to the edge of our bank. Across Apple Creek, Caleb crashes through the trees and comes to the edge on the other side. He don’t see us.
“Caleb!” I cry out. “Caleb, jump!”
He looks up, sees us, and stops.
“Caleb, jump and swim!” I shout to him.
But Caleb doesn’t jump. He stands like a statue, framed against that fiery wall, staring at us. His mouth hangs open in a mix of surprise and fear. His ash-darkened face is streaked with tears.
Beside him on the bank, Butch barks, confused as to why he don’t jump. My dog bounds in closer and bites the hem of his shirt and tries to drag him to the edge. But Caleb jerks away and his shirt tears free in Butch’s teeth. That boy never takes his eyes off us.
Through the smoke that drifts across the creek, I look into Caleb’s eyes and I see something I have never seen there before: shame. That horrible fire that tormented him for so long is gone. It has burned its way out. It burns our valley now, but it has gone from him.
And suddenly I know he won’t jump, no matter how much I shout. Caleb Madliner will choose to stay on his bank and burn. He will stay because he doesn’t believe he deserves to live.
“Caleb, you’ve got to jump!” I shout again. “There’s a way to fix it—all of this!”
Behind him, fire roars furiously. A new wave of black smoke billows across the bank. Fingers of it curl around his shaking body. The fire wants him.
Then, to my horror, Caleb Madliner takes a step backward.
Panic seizes me. “Caleb, no!” I shout. “No! No! No! Jump! Jump right now and swim! You can make it!”
Caleb gives no answer. He shakes his head and takes another step backward.
“Pete, he ain’t jumping,” I tell my brother. “He’s not going to do it!”
Next to me, Pete watches in stunned silence.
“Pete!” I suddenly cry. “Pete, you got to go get him!”
Butch barks again.
I scream.
Without a word, Pete dives into Apple Creek.
Pete knifes through black water and the rippling reflections of the fire burning on the far bank, his arms and legs slicing those flames in rapid, powerful strokes.
Caleb stares in amazement. He’s still staring when Pete springs from the creek, the water already curling off his body in waves of steam, and crawls hand over hand up the muddy bank until he rises before Caleb. Caleb stands mesmerized. Weeping.
Pete grabs him by the shoulders and shouts over the fire’s roar. “Come on, Caleb! If you stay here, you’ll die!”
Caleb shakes his head. “Go back, Pete! Go back!” He tries to twist away, but Pete holds him tight. He can’t break loose. Pete is too strong.
“Let go of me, Peter Elliot!” Caleb cries.
And then, in a sudden rapid movement, Caleb hits him low and hard in the stomach.
Pete sinks to his knees. He bends double, his mouth wide as he gasps for air, a look of surprise spreading across his face. And that’s when Caleb kicks him in the stomach.
“Pete!” I scream.
Caleb turns toward the fire. He don’t get far. Pete grabs hold of his ankle and with a single wrenching motion pulls him to the sand and rolls over on top of him. Now it’s a fight.
Their shapes collide: Pete grasping for a hold, desperate to drag Caleb to water as he slams his fists over and over again against Pete’s head, neck, and shoulders. Hot ash falls around them as they grapple, kicking and cursing. Black smoke sweeps over the bank once more, hungry for them both.