Voices of Dragons

“Assuming I can get my mom off the phone.” They smiled, and even Kay started feeling better. They kissed again, and she almost asked Jon to stay. He lingered, as if he were going to ask if he could. But he squeezed her hand and left, to go home and reassure his mother, and it was too late for Kay to change her mind.

She wanted to ease into a relationship, not plunge in like Tam wanted her to. They should be together because they wanted to, not because they thought they were supposed to. But did she and Jon want two different things? If they did, then what?

Kay watched the news all evening, trying to do homework and failing. It was hard to keep her mind on algebra when an endless parade of politicians and commentators on TV went back and forth between predicting disaster and reassuring that everything was fine. That was stupid, because nothing was fine. She could feel the balance of the world changing around her. Maybe because she was part of it. The person who rode the dragon. She kept expecting to see pictures of her and Artegal flashing on the screen. So far, that hadn’t been made public.

But she and Artegal were safe for now, and as long as nothing else happened, they’d stay safe.

Around ten, her mother called her and told her to get to bed. Or at least think about going to bed and getting some sleep. Kay was long past the age of being told to go to bed. But since things were quiet for the moment, she agreed. The morning would come more quickly if she slept through it all. Assuming she could get to sleep.

Sirens woke Kay. Lots of them: fire engines, police cars, ambulances. It sounded like every emergency vehicle in the county was on the road and speeding toward a disaster.

The air-raid sirens were also howling.

She sat up in bed enough to push aside the curtain over the window. She didn’t see anything, except a passing blue-and-red flashing light, quickly vanishing down the road. Her window faced away from downtown Silver River, where the police car was headed. She couldn’t see anything else.

She padded into the living room and turned on the TV. Two in the morning, and the Great Falls, Montana news was broadcasting. Letters in the corner a

A pretty but flustered woman reporter was glaring at the camera and delivering her line: “…fire department primarily concerned with containing the blaze so it doesn’t spread to other buildings…”

The camera shifted to a taped segment. She recognized the fire chief, his middle-aged face red with exertion, shining with sweat and smudged with soot. He was wearing a helmet and his big coat. Fire trucks made up the backdrop of the scene. Except for flashing emergency lights, the street was dark and nothing else was visible. Nothing gave a clue as to his location.

Where are they? Kay’s heart pounded. What was in the process of burning to the ground?

The fire chief said, “We’re just lucky we don’t have strong winds tonight. We could have lost the whole town in minutes. Right now we have a good chance of containing the fire by morning.”

Back to the reporter: “Chief Perez would not give details, but he said there have been several serious injuries, and people have been transported to area hospitals. Once again, I’m in downtown Silver River, where several government administration offices are burning…”

Her heart nearly gave out. At least it was night. The buildings would have been empty. Her parents wouldn’t have been working—except, because of the trouble on the border, they hadn’t stopped working.

She retrieved her cell phone from her bedroom and dialed her mother. The call rolled to voice mail.

“Crap,” she muttered. Everyone in town who had any vaguely official position was probably either at the scene or on the phone. She’d have to keep watching the news and get the one-sided filtered version of what was happening. Or not.

She changed quickly, pulling on jeans, a sweatshirt, and her hiking boots. She called her mother again, then her father. Neither was picking up, which shouldn’t have surprised her. No doubt they were way too busy to talk to her. And she knew better than to head down there and get in the way.

But she wouldn’t get close enough to get in the way. Just close enough to flag down someone who could tell her what was going on. May as well—she certainly wasn’t going to get any more sleep tonight, and she didn’t want to wait until morning to get more news. Mom and Dad may yell at her for leaving the house, but that was all they could do. She’d take it as a fair trade for finding out what was happening. She got in her Jeep and set off.

An orange glow sat over the entire town, flames reflected into the night sky, billowing and flickering. Kay had seen wildfires in the distance that looked and sounded like this, a constant crackling of wood. The air smelled of heavy soot and ash. But this wasn’t a distant wildfire; this was right in the middle of Silver River. She had to squint into the light.

Six blocks away, the streets were barricaded, police cars blocking access. The flashing blue-and-red lights hurt her eyes. She felt only half awake, muzzy-headed, as if maybe she were still in bed dreaming. Kay pulled over and left the car, moving closer to the disaster on foot. She wasn’t the only one. A crowd had gathered outside the police barricade, people huddled together, murmuring questions: What was going on?

“Kay! Hold up!” someone called out to stop her. She recognized the voice—one of her father’s deputies, at the open door of his car across the street. It shook her awake. Someone to answer questions, that was all she wanted. Deputy Kalbach could answer her questions.

“What’s going on? What’s burning? I can’t get ahold of my folks. Have you seen them? Are they around anywhere? Where’s my dad?” She hadn’t thought she’d have sounded so panicked. This must have been what it felt like to be in an earthquake, when all the phone lines went down and you didn’t know if anyone was alive or dead.

When he crossed over to her and took hold of her arm, she saw it as a bad sign. There was too much tension in the grip. She didn’t think her stomach could drop any farther.

He touched the radio at his shoulder. “Yeah, I got Kay Wyatt here. What should I do?” She couldn’t make out the reply that scratched back at him, but he didn’t look happy about it. “Okay, got it.” He turned off the receiver and pulled her toward the car. “Come on.”

She dug in her heels. “Wait a minute, where are we going? What’s happening?”

“Your folks are at the hospital. I’m taking you there now.”

At that, her mind stopped working. She let the deputy push her into the passenger seat of his patrol car. They drove, lights flashing and siren blaring. People got out of the way instantly. It was eerie.

“What happened?” she finally managed to ask, when her mouth started working again. “Are they hurt?”

“It’s your dad,” he said, his face a grim mask. “He got to the scene first. The night dispatcher was on duty, and he went in to make sure she got out. It was pretty bad.”

Kay leaned her head on her hand and tried not to imagine what “pretty bad” meant. Wait ’til you see before you start crying.

“Alice—your mom—rode in the ambulance with them.”

“Why didn’t anyone call me?” Her voice was hoarse and unreliable.

“This happened twenty minutes ago! We’ve barely been able to think!” His expression twisted, and Kay realized with a shock that he was holding back tears, too. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I don’t mean to yell. It’s just we’re all shaken.”

Her father’s deputies were honorary uncles and aunts to her. They looked after her. They were anchors. Seeing Deputy Kalbach like this—face twisted, shoulders slouching—Kay almost burst into tears right there.

Instead, she hugged herself and stared ahead, trying to be numb.