Chapter 19
Dex
My head is in a strange place the next morning. What happened yesterday felt like it meant something, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
No, that’s a lie.
I know exactly how I feel about it, and I’m not even the tiniest bit ready to think through the implications.
Korren seems to be determinedly pretending it didn’t happen, which is a relief, and he takes my hand without complaint for the walk to the fire station.
“Ready for your first Alaskan firefighting mission?” I ask in an attempt at normalcy.
“Sure. But who’s going to look after the cat while we’re away?”
“He can take care of himself for a few more days. If we leave food on the porch, we’ll end up with a bear hanging around.”
We’re not the first ones at the station—some of the guys are really into this, and they look like they’ve been up since the crack of dawn. Meanwhile, all I can think about is how grueling my first fire was and how unprepared I am to do this again.
We crowd around the table for breakfast, as usual, and this time Uncle Rhodes has upped his game with scrambled eggs and bacon in addition to the usual bagels.
While we’re eating, Korren follows me over to the side of the room and grills me about the fire.
I’ve just about reached the end of my limited knowledge and am ready to tell him to ask Uncle Rhodes for more details when a few of the other crewmembers approach.
Brett is already suited up, and for the first time I spot our piles of gear along the opposite side of the room.
“I haven’t heard you talk this much since you got here,” Cami says, clapping Korren on the back. “Excited?”
Korren turns stiffly to look at her, his expression closing over.
“You haven’t done this before, have you,” she says. “I know Chief Rhodes said you’re from a residential firefighting background.”
Korren grunts.
“Well, that’s probably a good thing. Everyone who comes from out-of-state says firefighting in Alaska is different. So you’re less likely to be disappointed.”
“By the way,” Garret asks with a grin, “is the game still on, or are you two just dating now?”
“We’re not gay!” Korren and I both say at the same time.
“We’re still fighting over that goddamn cabin,” I add casually, trying to take the attention off poor Korren, who looks like he wants to slink away and hide.
“What kind of dares are you doing?” Ambrose asks.
“Nothing serious,” I say. “We’re both really invested in winning that cabin, and neither of us wants to do anything so extreme that we’ll be the one chickening out. It’s mostly been handholding and me taking Korren out to breakfast.”
Garret snorts. “You two are ridiculous. I never would’ve let this go on for so long.”
“You say that because you have a house,” Brett says.
“Exactly.” I decide to prove how straight we are by giving Korren a simple dare that I know he’ll hate. “Hey, Korren. I dare you to share a tent with me for the whole posting.”
His look of horror is exactly what I’d expected, but it still twists something inside me. And then I feel guilty because I’ve put him on the spot, and he can’t back down with everyone watching.
“There you go, guys,” Cami says. “They’re obviously not hooking up. Leave them alone.”
“You gonna do the dare?” Garret asks, grinning at Korren.
“It’s not like I have any fucking choice,” Korren grumbles.
He still looks pissed, so I’m relieved when I hear the helicopter landing outside and Uncle Rhodes comes back in to hurry us along.
We all scramble into our standard-issue gear as quickly as possible and then load the helicopter with enough boxes to sink a ship.
There’s food and supplies for making camp and firefighting gear—most postings in Alaska are remote, so we have to assume we’re on our own until the fire is under control.
Last of all, we pile into the helicopter and get ourselves situated.
I’m still pretty excited about going in a helicopter, but I’m not making the same mistake I did last time—Alaska is massive, so this isn’t some little sightseeing tour.
We might be flying for hours. I have snacks in the pockets of my suit, and I’ve brought a thermos of coffee, which I might regret since there’s no toilet in here.
Once we have our headphones on, Uncle Rhodes starts talking us through the job as we take off. The scenery around Copper Creek is fucking incredible, so it’s hard to pay attention as we fly past steep glaciated mountainsides and alpine lakes and a long, intricate coastline dotted with islands.
I do pick up bits and pieces, though. We’re going to be protecting a remote native allotment that’s threatened by a fast-moving fire.
We’ll be clearing black spruce from around the boundaries of the allotment to start with, and moving on to beating the flames where they’re burning at the surface in places that aren’t forested.
It’s late morning by the time we land, and we start by setting up camp.
It’s more luxurious than backpacking—we’ve got a huge box of fresh food that we keep cool by digging down to the permafrost and a big tarp that we string up over our gear to use as a communal space—but we’re still roughing it.
There are no chairs and no toilets, and if it’s anything like our last posting, we’re going to have wet feet the whole time we’re out. At least the camp is on solid ground.
The wind changes as I’m putting up my tent, bringing a curtain of smoke into camp, so I’m glad to get moving, even if we’re just going to head into even smokier terrain.
After a quick lunch, we’re straight into it, clearing black spruce and hacking up roots with our Pulaskis as we make our way closer to the fire.
I’d gotten a false sense of security from our campsite, but we’ve hardly gone a hundred yards before the ground turns marshy and tussocky just like last time. Fuck me.
I barely see Korren all afternoon. This is hard, repetitive, mind-numbing work that leaves me way too much time to think, and my thoughts are stuck going in circles around what’ll happen with this cabin.
The thing is, I’ve realized I would be much happier to have Korren living with me than I would be alone, but he’s made it clear he wants to win the cabin outright.
By dinnertime, Korren looks as exhausted as I feel. Someone has dragged a few of the hacked-up tree trunks over to camp for us to sit on, and I collapse onto one beside Korren.
“How’re you coping?” I ask, pulling off my helmet and wiping sweat from my forehead. I don’t know why I gave Korren such a hard time about the state he was in when he arrived in Copper Creek—I’m barely half a day into this job, and I already feel twice as grimy as he was.
He gives a short laugh. “It’s a lot less thrilling than I expected. I thought we’d be closer to the fire.”
“The guys who do this every year say that’s typical in Alaska. But I think we’ll be going in close later on.”
“You think you’ll be doing more of this next summer?” Korren asks.
“No idea.” I like the camaraderie, but it’s brutal work. I was studying ecology down in Oregon, but seeing as I didn’t finish the degree, I don’t have a hope of working in anything specialized. “What about you? Has one day up here been enough to scare you off the permanent position?”
Korren flashes me a smile. “Turns out I like this kind of thing.”
“You’re fucking insane. Just like the rest of them.”
This time Korren’s laugh is genuine.