The devil was coming.

Juan Rodriguez knew it, judging by the intensity of the smoke smudging the skies, smearing the sun. He watched it from the flatbed of the Ford, repeatedly jarred by the perilous terrain of the dirt roads woven among the orchards. The others attempted to continue sleeping, their mouths covered in cheap surgical masks, but not him. He’d actually slept last night, given it was his turn for the single bed. He’d collapsed into it and didn’t stir until the sound of the truck arriving.

And the truck always came, even as the valley burned.

“We just can’t let it all die,” Patrick said a few days ago, clapping him on the back.

Juan looked from the skies through the sliding window of the truck to see the back of Patrick’s thick neck. Even in a loose-fit unbuttoned shirt, a fat roll still extended just above his collar and beneath his short-cropped gray hair. The fat always spilled over when Patrick strained his neck to wave to his wife, honking the horn while driving by their sprawling ranch home. That was before he sent her and their daughters away when the flames appeared on the horizon.

Patrick had not, however, demanded his workers flee as well. At least not all of them, including those housed in his rental property, nestled deep in citrus trees. He even allowed them to turn on the single window air-conditioning unit at night. But when his truck arrived at dawn, that unit had better be turned off.

To the inhabitants of his rental, he offered triple the pay if they stayed. “Stupid to tell everyone to leave.” Patrick had spit out his chew when he’d extended the deal. “You can’t force a man off his land. This is my land! Government can’t take it. That’s what they want to do, you know. I’ve got a twelve-gauge waiting for them if they step one foot on it.”

Juan and the others had just stared at him, doing the calculations in their minds. Mama could get that hip surgery. Maybe even get Tommy across the border, if the price hasn’t gone up.

“Damn fires probably won’t even make it here! Where do they think they’re going to get their damn orange juice if we cut and run? Screw them and their blockade. You can keep people from coming in, but my ass if they’re going to force us out.”