Child's Play    by Denise Cassino

10:45 pm, June 15 - Somewhere near Longbow, Colorado
     "Just piss on it, will ya! Let’s go! My old man will kill me if I’m late again."
     "Okay, okay, hold on," Josh yelled, unzipping his pants. The stream sizzled 
and crackled, sending up a plume of smoke from the waning fire. Josh looked up 
as he squeezed out the last few drops. Stars twinkled against the black backdrop 
of the summer sky, and he held his breath against the smoke wafting upward. Kicking 
the smoldering logs with his boot, he zipped his pants and turned to run for the car.
    "Wait up," Josh yelled as he saw the old Toyota begin to roll away. "Wait up, you 
guys!" He glanced back and saw a spark pop from the fire as he jumped in the back 
seat and felt the car lurch forward. Empty beer cans lay next to the campfire, shimmering 
in the moonlight while a gust of wind swept sparks and smoke swirling upward into the 
night sky.
12:30am June 16
    I awoke in the dead of night to the wild cacophony of wind chimes thrust into action 
by high winds that buffeted the tall pines and rattled the new leaves of the aspen trees. A 
loud bang told me the sheet of plywood had been slammed to the deck by a mighty gust. 
I rolled over and fell back to sleep.
3:15pm June 16
    Now I stood on the uppermost point of my mountain property on a high ledge overlooking 
the Continental Divide and all of the dark green forest in between. An angry, black funnel of 
smoke billowed upward at a frightening speed moving toward our house, which along with 
those of several friends lay in its path. 
    "I’m heading back. I want to start packing and I’ve got to get a hold of The Dunns and The 
Randalls," I said, turning toward my four-wheel, all-terrain vehicle. 
    "Look, the fire just jumped the ridge. Oh my God, look at the flames. Oh, God!" my husband 
David cried, his voice carrying the fear that clutched at my own throat.
    "Come on, let’s get out of here. This thing’s moving fast." I turned the key, and saw David 
jump on his own four-wheeler parked right behind me. I turned toward the narrow dirt path 
that would take us back to the main road leading home. I squeezed the gas lever and rolled 
quickly along, ducking under low-hanging branches and leaning into turns. When we hit the 
main road, the ruts worsened and we veered to avoid them. Lack of rain had left the terrain 
dry, but the winter run off had made our dirt road choppy and difficult. I looked back and saw 
David was close behind. I only saw the car bearing down on my front fender when I turned back 
to the road and rounded the curve. I hit the brakes and jerked the handlebars harshly to the right, 
hoping David wouldn’t rear end me. The ATV skidded into the hillside leaving my heart pounding 
wildly in my chest while the squad car slid to a stop in the dust just inches away from my leg.
    "Sorry, ma’am. Are you okay?" the State trooper asked tipping his brimmed-hat back, his eyes 
wide with concern. "Didn’t expect to see anyone along here."
    "I guess I’m okay. You were going kind of fast."
    "I apologize, but the fire’s got us jumping. If you live up here, you need to evacuate. We’re 
clearing out this whole area. Fire’s moving quick and the high winds are spreading it. Anybody 
else live back this way?"
    "Nope, just us and we’re heading home to pack. Thanks for the warning."
    He tipped his hat and drove on past me, looking for a place to turn around. I shook my head, 
thinking how close I had come to being squished like a bug on his windshield.
    We entered the house and David made phone calls while I emailed friends whose houses might 
be endangered. The phone rang incessantly as I started packing valuables. I had never made a plan 
for this occurrence and scratched my head wondering where to begin.
    David walked in the room with furrowed brow and said, "I don’t think we should leave."
    "Are you crazy? We just watched that fire eat a mountainside in one bite and you want to stick 
around for more?"
    "No, I’m just saying, let’s just see how this thing plays out. I’d rather have some control than sit 
down in Denver, wondering what’s happening to this place."
    We mentally flashed on the sweat and labor we’d poured into ten years of refurbishing our old 
mountain lodge and couldn’t bear to see it all go up in flames. I shrugged. "Okay, let’s wait awhile."
    We packed a few boxes and poked down an egg salad sandwich. Climbing back on the ATV’s, 
we headed for the ridge. Dusk enshrouded the forest, wrapping itself around us like a gray cloak. 
Our headlights cast narrow beams on the darkened pines and low scrub oak and berry bushes as 
we carefully made our way through the woods. Smoke rode the air and the wind whipped our hair 
as we climbed upward.
    Now the fire had engulfed the mountainside and was moving south along the far ridge. Loud 
booms echoed through the canyons as pine trees exploded their boiling resin, scattering it in a 
thousand directions, spreading the fire with it. We peered through binoculars, watching houses 
burst into flames as the furious fire moved indiscriminately across the range, consuming all in it 
path. The winds gusted around us, sweeping the flames southward along the river. Headlights 
flashed between trees as cars and trucks pulling horse trailers wound their way out of the forest 
toward safety.
    We arrived home around ten o’clock and had 17 voice mails. Most of our mountain friends 
had evacuated and were calling to say they were safe. Flipping on the news, we saw the fire chief 
calling for smoke jumpers and slurry bombers to try to contain the inferno which had already 
consumed 8000 acres and with them, 14 homes. The fire was completely out of control, with 
little hope of speedy containment or heavy rain, and new spot fires were cropping up here and 
there. We dropped into bed, saying an extra prayer. As I lifted my head from the pillow I could 
now see flames in the distance. We slept restlessly and rose early to the sound of airplanes overhead
10am, June 17
    The air was thick with smoke, and we could taste it in the backs of our throats and smell it with 
each breath. The fire had spread and now billowed black and ominous in two directions. Small 
aircraft buzzed the hot spots dropping their fluid loads of red slurry in a wide swath as they passed
low over the forest. We rode back to the ridge and found blackened devastation where a proud 
pine forest once stood. Smoking quietly on the smoldering hillsides lay sad remains of burned-out 
houses. We drove slowly toward the main road and found our friend, John Randall, and his son, 
Josh, tying down the load in his truck.
    "You going?" David asked.
    "I’m staying, but I’m sending Josh with his mom down to Indian Hills until it’s over." He looked 
skyward and said, "Must have been dry lightening, or some jerk with a campfire. If the wind turns 
and whips up that canyon, we’re done for. What about you guys?"
    "We’re staying. I guess after today, once you’re out, you stay out. They’re setting up checkpoints 
at all the main intersections. I just feel better staying up here. Keep in touch and call if you need help." 
We waved as we rode off. The other houses along the road were closed up, horses taken from their 
corrals and vehicles gone. No dogs barked as we passed. We were eerily alone on the mountain.
    As we neared home, our dogs barked and we saw the flames had jumped the creek road far below. 
If the winds turned north, we were directly in the fire’s path. 

****************

    As we drove off, Josh’s heart was aching and the taste of fear was in his throat. "Dad, Dad, I need
to tell you something."
   John turned and looked into his son’s frightened eyes.
    "What, Josh, what is it?"
   Tears welled up and broke over the rim of Josh’s eyelids, rolling sadly down his cheeks.
   "Dad, I think we might have started the fire." He bent his head and held his face in his quivering
hands.

****************

    The winds died down and the slurry bombers kept at it. For two days, they roared overhead with
small, single-engine guide planes leading them into the blaze. It was like stories of the London blitz
with the steady buzz and drone of planes passing every five minutes followed by the huge helicopters
hauling huge buckets suspended by cables which they dipped into a small lake at the base of the fire.
Rain followed and the fire smoldered for a couple more days while the fearlessly dedicated firefighters
worked round the clock to douse the last of the hotspots.
11am, June 21
   We drove out together after six days. As we hit the main road, we saw a sheriff’s vehicle waiting to
turn onto the road. In the backseat sat Josh Randall and two other teenagers. He bowed his head and
averted his eyes from ours. Behind the sheriff’s car, his parents followed. We nodded an
acknowledgement of their sorrow, knowing the hell they were about to endure was only second to the
hell that rained down on our valley. I reached over and took David’s hand and squeezed, knowing we
were lucky to have survived intact. I thought of all the families, the homes, the pets and wildlife that did
not survive, the lost beauty of our forest, and I couldn’t help but remember the last line of the movie,
"A Bronx Tale." "The choices you make today, affect you for the rest of your life." If only that lesson
were not so difficult to learn.

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