The gate at the north entrance to the park was open. Annabel wheeled the Jeep through it, then followed the twisting road toward the ranger station. Mount Diablo itself loomed above them to the left, its rounded, heavily wooded slopes blocking out much of the glow from the fire now. The smoke smell was stronger, though, indicating that the wind was still carrying the flames up Mitchell Canyon toward the summit.
The ranger station and park headquarters were beehives of activity. Fire trucks and Jeeps were parked everywhere. Firefighters were wetting down the buildings of the compound to protect them from any airborne sparks that might float this far from the fire. Men and women in fire suits and helmets, as well as others in the uniform of the State Parks and Wildlife Service, hurried here and there, Annabel parked her Jeep where it would be out of the way, and she and Earl hopped out. Carrying their Pulaskis and other gear, they stopped the first state firefighter they encountered. "Who's in charge here?" Annabel asked, raising her voice to be heard over the general hubbub. She could also hear the distant crackling and roaring of the forest fire itself.
"Captain Skinner," the firefighter replied, pointing to a balding man in glasses, a windbreaker, and a hard hat. The windbreaker had State Parks and Wildlife stenciled on its back.
"Thanks," Annabel said. She and Earl hurried over to intercept Captain Skinner.
"—teams on the north end!" Skinner was calling to someone. He turned to the new arrivals and frowned slightly at Annabel. "Don't I know you?"
"Annabel Lowell from the Forest Service. We met at a joint firefighting exercise last summer," Annabel explained. "This is Earl Tabor. We're here to coordinate our people with yours, Captain."
Skinner grunted. "McPhee and his boys are already aloft?"
"That's right. They should be jumping soon, if they haven't already."
"Blast it! I was just handed a weather report that's got me worried. We've got a front that was stationary about to start moving again. The wind shift line should pass through the park in the next half hour to forty-five minutes, and there's a strong pressure gradient. It's liable to throw that fire right in McPhee's face."
Annabel felt a cold chill go through her. "Have you advised Captain McPhee of this?"
Skinner shook his head. "Negative. We're on the wrong side of the mountain to contact him. It's blocking our radio signals."
"Send somebody up to the summit," Earl suggested.
"I was about to look for someone to do just that when you two showed up. Feel like volunteering?"
"I'll do it," Annabel and Earl said at the same time.
"Only one of you needs to go. I want the other to stay here in case anything else comes up."
"That's you, Earl," Annabel said. Before he could argue, she spun on her heel and ran back toward the Jeep.
The summit of Mount Diablo would be closer to the fire, and she could at least get a good look at it, she thought as she hurried back to the vehicle and climbed behind the wheel. And someone had to warn Captain McPhee of the impending wind shift. If the smoke-jumpers were already on the ground, they might find themselves facing a much more formidable task than they had expected. That wasn't the worst-case scenario, however. If the wind shifted strongly after they jumped but before they were on the ground, they might find themselves parachuting down into the heart of an inferno.
Earl had taken a few steps after her, she saw as she cranked the Jeep's engine and then backed it up. He probably intended to argue with her. Annabel's foot came down hard on the gas pedal, sending the Jeep spurting forward. In the rearview mirror, she saw Earl wave a big paw in frustrated defeat.
The road to the summit twisted and turned up the side of the mountain in a series of dizzying switchbacks. Annabel took them fast but still tried to be careful; she couldn't deliver the warning to her fellow firefighters if she and the Jeep went tumbling down the side of the mountain. Finally the big, old stone building came into view. Every light in the place seemed to be lit. Annabel wasn't sure, but she thought some of the staff probably lived here now, during tourist season. They would have already been evacuated.
She brought the Jeep to a skidding stop in the parking lot, grabbed the radio, and ran toward the observation deck on the far side of the building. From there, she could see all the way down Mitchell Canyon, and she ought to be able to raise Captain McPhee on the radio without any trouble. She stopped on the observation deck and began repeating urgently, "Calling Tango One-Niner," into the radio.
The canyon spread out before her. Normally in the daytime, it was a beautiful vista, the slopes covered with trees and wildflowers and lush grass, and in the background the lower peaks of the Diablo range falling away to the San Joaquin Valley.
Tonight, though, it was a vision straight out of a nightmare.