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On June 28, 2013, a fire was begun by an arsonist in north Yucaipa. This is the first-hand account by Michele Peters who was given just ten minutes to evacuate. I had returned home after running errands and was doing some light housework when I smelled smoke. I hate when I smell smoke, especially if it's strong. I went into the back yard and saw a huge plume of brown smoke rising behind our neighbor's house. I knew this was much closer than any other fires we'd had in our area. My husband, Randy, came outside and started taking pictures of the smoke. I called the fire and police departments to ask if there were any evacuation orders. There weren't. Randy went to our neighbors' homes to make them aware of the fire. One family wasn't home, the other had no idea. Our neighbors across the street had already begun loading important papers into their cars. The smoke quickly thickened and fire 8 OUR YUCAIPA | AUGUST 2013 engines began to arrive. It was a very daunting sight. Our adrenaline kicked in. Randy grabbed our medications and our important papers while I gathered photo albums and videos and loaded them into my car. Years ago, after another nearby fire, I had collected the videos of our kids growing up and put them together in one box in case of an emergency. Thank God I had that foresight. As we packed, a police officer came to the door and told us that we had ten minutes to get out. Ten minutes. I walked out front and saw our pastor, Don Hinkle, sitting in his car across the street. I went over to his car and asked him to pray for us. He said he would and not to worry, that everything would be fine, then he drove away. I still don't know why he was there, but his words gave me a glimmer of hope. The smoke continued to thicken and it became difficult to breathe. Firefighters were everywhere. I forced myself to focus and prioritize. My main concern was our safety and I went into auto-pilot, as I tend to do in the midst of an emergency. Randy remained calm and focused as well. As the seconds ticked down, I went through the house locking doors. Randy stopped me. "Firefighters might have to get in," he said. We could now see the flames towering on the hillside, quickly approaching our neighborhood. I put our three dogs in the car, and Randy and I agreed to meet at the Stater Brothers parking lot on Bryant. Our neighborhood looked like a war zone. Ash swirled through the air and flames consumed brush and trees, leaving smoldering areas in their wake. People raced to their cars, clutching their most precious possessions. Everyone wore a look of panic. The Stater Brothers parking lot was packed with other evacuees. We shared our stories and nervously paced, watching the flames. One neighbor called to see if we were okay and if we'd heard any news about our home. Other friends called and texted, expressing their concern. Randy called our friend, Darlene, who came to take the dogs to her house. It was a relief to know that they would be in good hands. That just left our house to worry about. We sat in the parking lot for several hours, watching the flames flare and twist, knowing they were right where we lived… and there was nothing we could do about it. Frustration, concern, and a loss of control were the feelings of the moment. We had no idea when we would