Free Mercy by Rhiannon Paille

eyes glued to the electric blue eyes of a boy standing awkwardly on the trail. He wasn’t dressed for hiking at all and the first thing that struck her mind was danger. The second was fear and her traitorous fingers squeezed the trigger, unleashing a flare and sending her onto her back. The flare hit a tree, igniting sparks. She opened her eyes momentarily and watched the tree creak and groan as it fell across the path. Flames skated across it, a wall of fire separating her from the boy.
    Maeva pushed herself to her feet, too scared to think straight, her terrified eyes meeting his. Frightened bright blue eyes, spiky dark hair, black skinny jeans, and t-shirt pulled over ghostly white biceps. She focused on his eyes, the clearest sapphire crystals she’d ever seen, flecks of deep blue punctuating the irises. Vertigo clouded her vision as her stomach turned to sludge. The flare gun slipped out of her hands before she accidentally fired another shot, her eyes plastered on the boy. He seemed paralyzed, staring back at her like she was a ghost. Seconds ticked by, an incomprehensible tangent of thoughts, words, and images skating through her mind. She couldn’t hold onto a single coherent thought, her entire body on fire with nothing but pure desire, fear, anxiety, and sadness.
    She went to open her mouth, forcing herself to find her voice as the fire spread to nearby trees, the heavy rain not enough to snuff it out. She realized too late she was trapped. The boy turned, fleeing the other way down the path and Maeva’s eyes widened.
    He wasn’t going to help her.
    “Wait!” she cried, waving her hands in the air, smoke billowing into her lungs. She coughed and turned, climbing the rocks, huddling on the stone plateau, rain soaking through her, keeping the fire at bay. She closed her eyes, trying to remember everything they taught in fire safety. She wasn’t supposed to go anywhere, and she couldn’t anyway. She opened her backpack and pulled out the square fabric container, and shook out the shiny fireproof blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders but it wasn’t going to be enough. Fire inched closer to the rocks, obscuring the only escape route. She steeled herself and glanced over the cliff at the water. She could try to jump but her whole body stiffened at the thought. She couldn’t even swim let alone cliff dive into frigid water.
    She cleared her tear-soaked cheeks and pulled out her iPhone, hoping it would last against the rain. She dialed the direct line for the fire department and waited; her mind still on the boy, her stomach a muddle of angry butterflies. The phone connected and she let out a breath when it rang.
    “Lake of the Woods Fire Department,” a voice answered. Maeva recognized the voice, he taught the seminars at school. She’d known him for almost ten years.
    “Commissioner Gold?” she asked, her tone reduced to a squeak. The rain slowed, but the fire raged on as she tried to make a tent out of the fireproof blanket.
    “Maeva? What’s wrong?” Gold asked; his voice deep. Maeva caught the panic in him as another rumble of thunder rolled across the sky and she winced.
    “Remember when you taught us not to go alone?” she stuttered, trying not to let her teeth chatter. She imagined Gold’s eyes being as round as saucers as she said the words and cringed at the amount of trouble she’d be in when she got home.
    “Where are you?” he barked, not bothering to cover up the urgency in his voice.
    “Um … hold on,” Maeva said, taking the phone away from her ear and clicking to the compass app. She memorized the coordinates in seconds and put the phone back to her ear. “Forty nine point seven, four five six and ninety seven point eight one five four.”
    Gold’s breath hitched. “You’re on Treaty Island.”
    Maeva let out a groan. Another tree cracked and fell over and she flinched, willing herself to keep her eyes on the ground. She cast around for a way to tell Gold the rest of it