Nick bends down beside her again, helpless. He’ll see the image for the next twenty years. He rises, stumbles away, and vomits on the ground.
Then Mimi is there, next to them in the dark. Relief runs through Nick. Another woman. A woman will know how to save them. At a glance, the engineer sees everything. She pushes the van keys into Adam’s hands. “Go. Back to that last town we came through. Ten miles. Get the police.”
“No,” the woman on the ground says, startling everyone. “Don’t. Keep . . .”
Adam points at the blaze. “I don’t care,” Mimi says. “Go. She needs help.”
Adam stands still, his body objecting. Help won’t help her. And it will kill us all.
“Finish,” the prone woman murmurs. The word is so soft not even Nick can make it out.
Adam stares at the keys in his hand. He leans forward until he’s trotting toward the van.
“Douglas,” Mimi snaps. “Stop.” The vet quits moaning and holds still. Then Mimi is on the ground ministering to Olivia, opening her collar, calming the animal panic. “Help is coming. Stay still.”
Words only agitate the gored woman. “No. Finish. Keep—”
Mimi hushes her, stroking the side of her face. Nick slinks back. He watches from a distance. Everything is happening, unfixable, forever, for real. But on another planet, to other people.
Things seep out of Olivia’s middle. The lips move. Mimi leans in, her ear to Olivia’s mouth. “A little water?”
Mimi spins and looks up at Nick. “Water!” He freezes, helpless.
“I’ll find some,” Douglas shouts. He sees a dimple in the hillside, beyond the blaze. “That’s a ravine. There must be a stream down there.”
The men search for something to hold the water. Every container they have is tainted with accelerants. There’s a baggie in Nick’s pocket. He empties it of its few sunflower seeds and gives it to Douglas, who heads off into the woods behind the construction site.
It’s not hard to find the stream. But a learned aversion grips Douglas as he dips the baggie. You can’t drink water from outside. There isn’t a lake, pond, stream, or rivulet in the country that’s safe to drink. He clenches down and fills the bag. The woman just needs to hold a thimble of cool, clear liquid in her mouth, however poisonous. Douglas cups the bag and runs it back up the hillside. He pours a little water into her mouth.
“Thank you.” Her eyes are feverish with gratitude. “That’s good.” She drinks a little more. Then her eyes close.
Douglas holds the baggie, helpless. Mimi dips her fingers into the fluid and wipes off Olivia’s streaked face. She cradles the head, strokes the chestnut hair. The green eyes open again. They’re alert now, cognizant, fixing on the eyes of their nurse. Olivia’s face twists up in terror, like an ambushed mare. As clearly as if she speaks the words out loud, she puts the idea into Mimi’s skull: Something’s wrong. I’ve been shown what happens, and this isn’t it.
Mimi holds her gaze, absorbing what pain she can. Comfort is impossible. The two lock eyes, and neither can look away. The gutted woman’s thoughts pour into Mimi through a widening channel, thoughts too large and slow to understand.
Nick stands still, eyes closed. Douglas throws the baggie on the ground and stumbles away. The sky flares up, bright with refusal. Two new explosions rip through the air. Olivia cries out, searching for Mimi’s gaze again. Her stare turns violent, clutching, as if looking away, even for an instant, would be worse than the worst death.
A third man appears on the inferno’s edge. The sight of Adam, so much sooner than he should be back, restarts Nick. “Did you get help?”
Adam looks down at the pietà. Some part of him seems surprised to find that the drama is still going on.
“Is help coming?” Nick shouts.
Adam says nothing. With all his will, he pushes back from madness.
“You gutless . . . Give me the keys. Give me the keys.”
The artist charges the psychologist, grappling. Only the sound of his name in Olivia’s mouth stops Nick from violence. He’s on the ground next to her in a heartbeat. She’s breathing hard now. Her face fists up in pain. Whatever shock has kept her anesthetized is wearing off, leaving her contorted and panting.
“Nick?” The panting stops. Her eyes go huge. He must fight to keep from looking over his shoulder for the terror that she sees.
“I’m here. I’m here.”
“Nick?” A shriek now. She tries to sit, and soft things spill