"How much money do you have?" Between them the pair had been known to split a small pizza with their dogs. If a road trip was to happen the three black and whites, and the recently rescued pooch of yet-to-be-determined ancestry would have to be fed.
Les opened her wallet, "Twenty bucks, and a credit card with high interest rates." Bea calculated quickly. Did they really need to get much closer to the burns to make a difference? Somehow she just had to see for herself how crazy people had gotten. Oso. Two years ago a disastrous landslide. People dead. Now, a logging fire has hundreds of acres burning. Her lungs had been burning for days before Les had read the article in the Slog.
"Shit!" It made sense, and it was insane. Bea pulled the old Subaru into the parking lot. "I need the mask, and oxygen. Honey, let's trade places 'kay." The dogs in back shuffled and resettled as Bea reached for a full tank of O2 and spun the regulator into place. The tanks lay on the floor behind the front seat, Tic, Tac and Toe knew Bea's routine and each lapped at the woman's face reassuringly. The new one with unknown ancestry was not about to be set down. Les held onto the scruffy blonde with seriously magical ears.
"You get the tank, and mask and I'll hold this one till you're set." Beatrix Blunt did as she was told. Though she was without a doubt a force to be recognized with, it was Les that was her everyday strength. They leaned into each other. That made faith last a lot longer.
"I want to get some pictures," Bea finally said once the mask was dosing her with oxygen. Nestled into the crook of her left arm the blonde newbie went to his bliss spot, asleep within moments. "Then I'll write the story, and the letters. We don't need to get too close."
"The road'll be closed off." Les was into practical now.
"I don't wanna kill myself doing this, but I do want to get the pictures of smoke myself. It's that important. Really, who the fuck is going to stop this trajectory?"
They looked at each other, and hollered, "Beatrix Blunt!" That got a rise out of the blonde.
"I think we need to name her Crook," Bea said from behind her ceramic mask. Crook nestled. It was a motion of agreement. The name would stick.