To Match A Dragon’s Fire (Sulfur & Spice #1)

5

Ember

Locked Gates and Pistols

Damn it. Not again.

I eased off the gas. A long line of cars had stopped on the highway. And I was pretty sure those were military tanks blocking the road. What the military was doing out here, I didn’t know.

Nor did I care to find out.

My heart was thumping hard and it wasn’t only from the coffee I’d been sipping all morning.

It’d taken hours longer than it should’ve to get away from Portland on the backroads. Traffic was awful. Cars stalled and sat idling on all the major freeways—the ones that were still drivable anyway.

Thankfully, the Bronco could handle some rougher terrain because I’d gone off-road a few times to get to the state highways beyond the more populated areas.

I wanted to avoid Mt. Hood and the ghastly dark clouds that blotted out the mountainous horizon above it. Another eruption was coming soon.

The sky was as apocalyptic as ever today. I breathed a sigh of relief when we crossed the Cascade Mountains and descended toward even ground.

But the highway took us through Bend, which was the last major city before our destination. The blockade up ahead looked like it’d been placed there strategically with those big tanks keeping people in line.

I’d seen enough empty and raided cars on the drive so far to know I wasn’t stopping for anyone’s checkpoint.

I threw the Bronco in reverse, looking over my shoulder as I eased onto a residential road.

With my worn atlas pressed against the steering wheel, I traced the side roads, looking for a way around as I drove by houses with the window shades drawn tight.

“Are we there?” Harper’s little voice came from the back seat.

“Not yet.” I looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror. “Go back to sleep.”

Harper closed her green eyes. They were the same shade as her mom’s and she also had Willow’s golden blonde hair. There wasn’t much of her biological dad Sam in there anywhere—thank goodness.

She was her mother’s daughter, even if Willow had no clue where the sass came from. I remembered how Willow used to be, though, back before life showed us what we were really made of.

The six-year-old was cramped into a four-point harness car seat with her bony knees and elbows sticking out .

Willow slept with her head leaning against the headrest and her hand protectively over Harper’s stomach.

I thought the girl was a little too big for the car seat, but I wasn’t her mom. Willow made the big decisions when it came to safety.

And she erred on the side of caution now.

Riley was snoring softly. Dobby had stopped meowing in his cat carrier, but he still watched me through the bars with a menacing expression as if worried I’d let them down.

Everything is going to be fine.

I dropped the atlas back to the bench seat and, with a shaking hand, reached for the oversized thermos of black coffee.

∞

The tension in my shoulders eased as I pulled off the state highway onto the county road, but the knot in my stomach tightened. I hadn’t been on these roads in twelve years.

Familiar landmarks came into view—the stoic jut of rock wall in the middle of the desert, Mason’s dairy farm and the accompanying smell, the only motel for a hundred miles in either direction that always had vacancies and no cars parked in the dirt lot, and the old closed-down traveler station with the same sign on the same two rusted hinges it’d hung from since I was a kid.

Dirt and dried weeds blew across the abandoned front porch with its rotted wood planks .

Over the next hill and past the hay bales stacked to the sky was an open range where a herd of mustangs grazed lazily behind the fence.

Nostalgia wrapped me in its embrace as I watched one mare with a splotch of white coloring run down the slope. Her brown mane blew in the wind and dust kicked up from her hind legs. Warm thoughts of my old pinto Addie made me smile.

Until I remembered she was dead.

Much like this desert town and the ghosts that haunted it and whatever dreams I’d once left here with. I blinked my eyes dry as I stared at the open road. The fence posts blurred on either side.

“I still can’t believe you grew up here.” Willow slowly moved Harper’s chin up so it wasn’t resting in that weird position that would’ve kinked my neck.

The sound of Willow’s voice after hours of silence almost made me pee myself, which was not a good feeling, especially when my bladder was so full.

“I forget how pretty it is,” I said, trying to see the landscape through her eyes. The last time I’d driven here, she’d been in the front seat where Riley sat now.

Willow had commented on the scenery then too, back when she was younger and carefree and single. We’d all come straight from finals week for the funeral, wearing the only black dresses we owned, which were all a little too short and too tight.

But we’d made it in time.

They’d buried my dad in the cemetery past the old church off Jefferson Ave. I’d left town the day after the reception, getting us back on the road and driving west into the sunset.

Willow and Riley didn’t try to make me stay longer. They knew why I had to leave. All the whispers behind my back. The fake smiles and faker words of sympathy as they came to pay their respects at my house, snooping around the whole time.

It was too much.

“Remind me how old you were when you stopped riding.” Willow turned to look out the window as we rounded another bend in the road, leaving the field of horses behind.

“Seventeen.” I pushed harder on the gas.

That was one of my biggest regrets. He’d taken so much from me. But it was my fault because I let him.

I’d listened to him and done what he wanted, supporting his dreams as mine fell to the wayside.

“I hate that for you,” Willow whispered, turning to give me a big smile that filled my rearview mirror. “But maybe, now that we’re here, you could teach Harper how to ride.”

“Maybe.” I eased my foot back a bit, thinking it over. “I’m not sure what the situation in town is like with supplies and livestock for sale. Christmas didn’t have much to begin with, but they’re more than likely feeling it now. It’s safe to assume we’ll be on our own out here.”

“I know.” Willow nodded, glancing over her shoulder to the bins she’d stocked and packed. For years, she’d been saving for this.

If anyone was ready to survive the apocalypse, it’d be her. I knew I was lucky to have her by my side.

Willow was the least hot-mess of us all. The grownup. But once upon a time, she’d been the dreamer of our friend group. Before life and trauma made her practical and wise. It was like all her wild ideas and dreams grew into emergency plans and anxious thoughts.

Life will do that to you.

I just wished I could help ease her mind sometimes the way she did for all of us.

“You never know though.” I forced myself to return her smile. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and some wild mustangs will come prancing straight to the corral.”

“Is the corral still standing?” Riley asked.

I startled, not realizing she was awake. The sunglasses still hid her eyes. Caffeine withdrawal made me jumpy. I grabbed the thermos and took another sip.

“I think so. Last I looked, the back fence and shed were still up. It was only the tractor I sold,” I mumbled as if my dad’s ghost were listening.

He’d kill me if he knew how far I’d let things go. But I could’ve sold at any time and I didn’t. No matter how bad life got, I always found a way to pay the yearly taxes on our property.

“We’ll use hoes,” Willow reassured us.

“That’s what she said,” Riley smirked.

It took me a minute to realize Riley had made a real joke. It felt like forever since I’d heard her say one. Willow and I shared a look, dragging out a moment of awkward silence, and then I was laughing so hard I almost missed the turn off.

“What’s so funny?” Harper stretched out her arms, waking as we bumped over the dirt road.

“Nothing,” the three of us said as one, trying to get our faces straight.

Riley pulled out her phone from where it sat on the charger. “Still no service. ”

“There won’t be,” I said. “We can try and get some in town if the local cell towers are still standing. But even before the quakes, we didn’t get any service out here.”

Out here was the middle of nowhere, where I was born and raised. The familiarity of the terrain gave me a sense of déjà vu.

This was the place my grandfather cultivated by raising steers, and where my father continued the business until he’d been forced to sell the herd and surrounding land to the government.

This dirt was in my blood.

There was the gnarled pinyon tree I’d crawled into and hid for hours when they told me I had to start kindergarten. Later, I used it as a hiding spot to watch the road and read books I had no business reading at twelve years old.

Past the tree was the dirt trail where I’d spent hours riding Mule up to the mountains and caves beyond.

Addie would whine dramatically when we left her in the corral. But she was too precious to risk hurting during our silly mountain escapades.

I smiled to myself, feeling the tug of home all around us. Despite how long I’d been gone and what had happened when I left, this was my land.

No one could take that from me.

I chuckled a little, hearing those words as a distant memory, spoken in my dad’s voice. He’d been so sure I’d come back someday.

Well, Daddy, you were right.

Here I was. Home.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes.

“Was that fence always there?” Riley asked .

My eyes shot open as the Bronco coasted down the hill. “No.”

“Did we take the wrong road?” Willow leaned over the front seat.

“No.” I slowed to a stop, feeling my jaw tick in anger. I knew exactly where I was, but I didn’t know why there was a gate and padlock on my property.

“Did someone move out here?” Willow looked around, offering a solution. “You could have new neighbors. That might be nice.”

“Grab me the pistol from the glovebox.” I put the Bronco into park on the dirt road.

“The… what?” Willow gasped.

Riley popped open the hatch, handing my Smith and Wesson M&P 22 over to me.

“Does Auntie Ember have a gun?” Harper screeched from her car seat.

A pistol up front and her dad’s old .410 rifle in the back.

Women can never be too prepared.

“She does.” I turned to smile at Harper. “You never touch this. Understood?”

“Okay.” She nodded solemnly. “Who are you going to shoot?”

“Come on, Harp,” Willow moaned.

Riley chuckled.

“No one, yet.” I inserted a magazine and checked the safety. “This is a public access road. Legally, you can’t put a fence here. But people who put up fences on public roads don’t always have the best intentions.”

“Be safe, Ember.” Willow peered through the windows.

I looked too, checking to see if anyone was out there or if they’d put up a camera .

The government bought the land surrounding our homestead back when I was a kid. This main road was used to access the national forest beyond our property.

It shouldn’t have been blocked, unless some asshole thought they had the right to make it theirs.

They didn’t.

I took a deep breath before opening the driver’s side door. A warm blast of dry air blew my hair back from my face as I landed with both feet on the dirt.

My hips were aching from sitting still for so long and my bladder was screaming for release, but I didn’t want to let my guard down until I’d scoped the area.

I inched closer to the gate, feeling my heart race for an entirely different reason. If this was someone else’s property, they’d have every right to shoot trespassers.

But this was my land. I knew it like I knew the back of my hand. What I didn’t know was why someone put a fence on it.

The padlock on the gate was open.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Shooting it off would cause even more problems with whoever put it here. I didn’t see any signs of the asshole. There was still another half a mile through the foothills until I got to my cabin, but the immediate area was empty.

Except for this stupid fence and gate.

I put the pistol in my waistband, motioning for Riley to drive as I opened the gate. “Pull forward and stop. I’ll close it behind you.”

Even if it wasn’t supposed to be here, I knew it was bad luck to leave gates open. I looked around again as Riley drove the Bronco past me, wondering if I’d missed some cattle grazing on the horizon.

Nothing.

It was all as I’d left it.

Maybe the government had put the fence up for some reason. They could’ve been moving cattle of their own. Not likely. But I wasn’t ruling it out.

I’d have to get to town soon—as much as I was dreading that—and check in with the county office at City Hall to see what had changed.

“I really have to pee,” Harper was begging when I opened the door. Willow gave me a look and I nodded.

After we’d all popped a squat, I slid back behind the steering wheel. My back was killing me. I realized just how tired I was and how tightly I was holding onto the wheel—metaphorically and literally.

The promise of home up ahead was welcome. I could get there and let go. I planned to curl up and finish reading my book. To check out from reality for a few hours and enjoy the peace and quiet.

Just one more hill and you can take a break.

“Auntie Ember’s cabin has a wood stove,” Willow explained to Harper. “And there’s a tire swing in the backyard.”

I could feel my adrenaline waning as she talked, enjoying the excitement in Harper’s gasps. Even Riley was smiling as she spoke soothing words to Dobby, who’d resumed his awful meowing in the carrier.

We crested the hill overlooking the cabin and a stone dropped to the pit of my stomach.

Red tinged my already-shrinking tunnel vision.

I slammed on the brakes, gripping the wheel tight in my fists again as I looked down on what had happened to my childhood home. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Riley gulped. “That definitely wasn’t there before.”