But I didn’t have a chance to say anything, because now a sound could be heard outside. A buzzing—no, a faint roar that grew increasingly louder.

“It’s coming,” Anna said.

“But it can’t come here, can it?” Lou asked.

We didn’t reply. I picked up the bag. Lifted August. Anna took Lou’s hand. We ran outside.

“Mommy, don’t you have to lock up?” Lou asked. But she received no reply to that question either.

We continued into the town, away from the beach, away from the plant.

I turned around. I couldn’t see the flames, only the smoke. There was a light breeze, and a black wall rolled into the town on the wind.

My heart in my throat, breathing hard, August in my arms. He wasn’t laughing any longer.

Anna pulled Lou behind her, but they weren’t moving quickly enough. She picked her up, balancing her on her hip. But that slowed her down even more—Lou was too heavy.

“Here,” I said, holding August out to her. “You take him.”

We swapped children. That was when it happened. It was Anna and August, Lou and I.

Then we continued running.

We approached the downtown area. The bike rental. Ran past the smiling plastic figurines in the small amusement park on the corner. Past the pharmacy. All the ice-cream parlors. The hamburger restaurant that had once been the most popular place in Argelès. Engulfed in smoke so thick I could barely breathe.

Lou kept her face hidden against my shoulder. I could hear her crying, but I couldn’t console her. I just ran. And forgot to turn around.

“Mommy?” Lou said suddenly.

It was only then that I noticed that Anna was no longer behind me.

I called for her in the smoke. Screamed. Yelled.

Lou screamed even louder than me, her voice high-pitched against the deepness of my own.

“Mommy?”

“Anna?”

“Mommy!”

But Anna didn’t come.

Then I turned around, ran back, toward the fire, toward the roaring. They had to be here somewhere. She had stumbled, I would find her.

“August? Anna? August?!”

No sound of her, and no sound of him crying.

Soon there was only the sound of crackling flames. They spread with a swiftness that I wouldn’t have believed possible. Spread through the dry landscape, which had scarcely seen rain in five years.

Everything could burn. And everything did. My entire world burned.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Signe

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Signe

Some breakups happen slowly: you can’t put your finger on the moment when it’s over—it’s a gradual, silent transition. While other breakups . . . I know the exact day I lost Magnus.

No. The day he lost me.

I remember the minute, the second, when I realized it was over.