Free Leaving Necessity by Margo Bond Collins

steps over the containment wall. When he hit the ground on the far side, Bobby began a sort of shuffle-jog to catch up with Mac and Clara.
    For a heartbeat, Mac tried to decide if he wished he had parked his truck closer to the tank battery or farther away. Bobby opened his mouth to say something, and got as far as forming the word Duke, when the world around them exploded.
     

Chapter Eleven
    Afterwards, Clara remembered only two things clearly: the panicked expression on Mitch’s face as he threw himself on top of her, and the slow-motion way she noticed that the orange of the explosion backlit Bobby’s head exactly like the sunset had the silhouetted the longhorn cattle earlier in the day.
    Then everything was muffled sound, burning heat, and dizzying blackness, until Mitch was hauling her to her feet and swinging her into his arms to race to his truck. Even in his hurry, he set her onto the seat gently before racing around to the driver’s side. They roared away from the blazing heat in reverse, Mitch’s arm stretched out across the back of the seat as he twisted around to watch behind them.
    Clara was glad to see taillights leading away from the site—apparently Bobby had made it out okay, too.
    When the second tank went up, they were still close enough to feel the rumble of it through the ground.
    A curve in the road gave Mitch the chance to spin the truck around without losing much momentum.
    Without looking at it, Mitch handed Clara his cell phone. “Dial 911 as soon as you can call out.”
    Clara pulled her own phone out of her purse and watched the No Service signs on both cells. “Will all five tanks blow up?” Glancing behind them, she could see flames leaping into the sky.
    Mitch nodded grimly. “Even the water tanks are full of gas fumes.” A muscle beside his eye twitched a little. “Plus those tanks are made of fiberglass, and it holds a charge.” As if to punctuate his words, a third and fourth explosion detonated behind them, and a fifth followed almost immediately. The sky behind them glowed almost as orange as the sunset had earlier that day.
    For several minutes, neither of them spoke.
    “I have a signal,” Clara said as she dialed. Mac pulled over and she handed the phone to him, listening as he gave the dispatcher directions to meet Bobby at the gate so he could guide them in, and again when he called Bobby to give him the same instructions. Watching the other oilman’s taillights disappear into the darkness made her feel more alone than it probably should have.
    Nerves. It’s just nerves.
    Then Mitch turned his pickup around to face the blaze, still visible in the distance.
    “Are we going back?” Clara’s voice sounded both shakier and louder in the silence than she had expected.
    Mitch peered at the fire and shook his head. “Not until we have a tanker truck out there with some serious water.”
    Clara’s mind kept going back over the first explosion—the way that Mitch had thrown himself across her, the look of terror on his face as he sought to protect her.
    She told herself that the swelling of emotion in her chest right now was only aftershock, the effect of adrenaline coursing through her system.
    This is a terrible idea, Clara.
    “Oh, to hell with it,” she muttered, turning to face Mitch, only to find him meeting her halfway there, his lips hot against hers, his fingers tangling in her hair at the nape of her neck as he hauled her in closer to him.
    It felt like coming home.
    * * *
    When Mac finally pulled his lips away from hers, Clara held his hand up to her mouth and kissed his fingers. The touch of her lips sent a shiver through him that he tried to hide. “Do they taste like smoke and oil?” he asked, working to keep his voice steady.
    She regarded his hand for a moment. “I’m not sure,” she said quietly. “I guess I’d better find out.”
    Unwinding her fingers from his, she slipped her hold to his palm, turning in her seat and reaching over with her