Time is of the Essence

 From where I was standing, I couldn’t tell at first that anything had changed. I expected small, adorable woodland creatures to stampede from the forest across my path and hightail it down the dirt road. But I couldn’t remember if that was an incident I saw on the Discovery Channel or the fire scene in “Bambi.” A lone rabbit, thin and mangy, hopped across the deck. Not the stampede of nature one would normally associate with a forest fire. Ash drifted across the sky and settled on the grill cover and quickly laid a layer of soft gray over the surface of the deck. Two borate bombers droned closer. Out of habit I paused and watched the heavy fat planes roar overhead to drop their loads farther up the mountain. I slid the glass door closed to block out the ash, as if I were the homeowner, not a thief breaking and entering.  

I was sure it was here in the house. The only thing falling was ash; the fire was up the mountain at least a mile away. I had a few more minutes.