Page 63 of Valley Girls
“Boy, you don’t even know.” Adrienne sipped her coffee. “After this, we’ll have our own debrief. I think we have a group still left on El Cap. Sawyer talked to them on the phone this morning and they’re descending. I’ll have you go out and check on them this afternoon.”
A ranger in a more official-looking rain jacket at the front of the firehouse cleared his throat.
Everyone sort of turned.
“All right, guys,” he said, lowering his radio and raising his voice. “Listen up.” He glanced at a little notebook in his hand and scanned the room before beginning his weather report and instructions for road closures and evacuation processes.
Rilla quietly filled up a cup of coffee while he talked, mixing in cream and sugar.
When they finished, Walker waved goodbye and followed Adrienne to a clump of volunteers.
Rilla caught up with Thea and followed her back into the rain, careful not to spill her coffee as she climbed inside the truck.
After starting the truck, Thea gripped the steering wheel, pulled herself up, and yanked down the edge of her vest from where it pushed out under her chin.
Rilla narrowed her eyes. “Are you wearing a bulletproof vest?”
Thea ignored her and twisted in her seat to back up.
Rilla leaned into the center console. “Why are you wearing a vest? Do you have a gun?”
“OMG shut up,” Thea snapped.
“You’re a cop.” Rilla pointed, eyes narrowed. Knowing it was annoying her sister. Knowing it was fun. “You’re not a ranger. You liar. Did you tell mom?” Mom would hate that Thea was a cop. A park ranger—okay. It was law enforcement for trees, basically. But a cop? No. There was a strictly enforced anti-cop component to being a Skidmore.
“Baby girl, if you don’t hush up ... I swear ...” Thea wrenched the wheel of the SUV, toward traffic on the main road. The windshield wipers flicked in rhythm.
“Mom is going to be so mad. Wait until I tell her.” It was hilarious how annoyed Thea was getting.
“I am a ranger.”
“A cop.”
“Alaw enforcement ranger,” Thea said.
“How could you betray mom so deeply?” Rilla teased.
Thea snorted. “Let us count the ways.” She turned off the wet pavement and onto what Rilla would have thought was a bike path. Tourists scattered in front of them, looking up into the SUV with wet and miserable expressions. The pines grew close to the road and dripped more rain.
“It’s so hard being an upstanding citizen. Oh, the burden. The woe. You perfect child,” Rilla said.
Thea put on the brakes and turned off the truck. “Get out. You’re coming with me.” Thea pulled her official ranger jacket hood up and got out, the sharp patter of rain hitting the nylon before she closed the door and eyed Rilla through the glass like hurry up.
Rilla pulled up her hood and rolled out of the truck, boots sinking into the soggy needles and mud. “What are you doing? Am I going to get paid for this?” She asked, catching up with Thea.
“You are out your damn mind. I should make you sit in the truck and do your work, but I’m not sure you’d be there when I got back.”
Rilla rolled her eyes and trudged after her sister. Just over the trees the edge of Half Dome loomed down on them, the patches of snow still visible at the top. All that snow on the mountains. All the snow she’d seen from her climb. It was melting and rushing downward into the Merced, into the slit of Valley before it passed on into wider places.
“We need to check on everyone and get them out of here as soon as possible,” Thea said from under her hood, not breaking her stride as she walked up to the closest RV. “The river isn’t supposed to hit the high mark until midnight, but by then it’ll be over the roads.”
Most of the campground was empty, and the ones that were left looked closed down or as if they were packing up. Rilla followed along in the rain as Thea went to each RV, one by one, reminding them of the evacuation order and asking how quickly they could get moving.
One guy was waiting until the crowds died down because he didn’t want to sit in traffic. His arms were folded and his eyes narrowed, immediately hostile to Thea’s calm reminder and encouragement. Eventually she gave a firm, decisive, “you need to leave immediately and not wait for traffic.” A moment passed where the rain pattered and the wind rushed off the mountains above them and the man glowered in silence. Where it shimmered right on the edge of turning into something different. The hair on the back of Rilla’s neck stood up and she held her breath.
“All right, I’m leaving,” he said.
Rilla exhaled.
