Chapter 22 Parker
Chapter Twenty-Two
PARKER
“Oh, fuck!” My breath hissed through my teeth as I moved out of the way.
Hudson looked back from where he was ahead of me. “You okay?”
We were scheduled to fly out first thing tomorrow morning. We’d hiked a solid mile outside of the swath of the forest charred by the fire.
“Just a branch falling,” I replied.
He glanced over his shoulder, cracking a grin. “Job hazard.”
“About another mile,” Graham called from up ahead.
We were all tired and more than ready to go home. For the first time since I’d been a hotshot firefighter, I had someone waiting for me at home. I couldn’t wait to get back to see Luna. I figured she’d spoiled Fuzzy the entire time, and he’d probably want to stay with her forever.
The trees opened up along a rocky ledge, and we carefully picked our way across. The footing was rocky and easy to slip on here. We were almost in the clear when we heard a ragged shout. When we stopped, I glanced back to see Kincaid had slipped and fallen a good twenty feet below the trail.
We swung into action when he called up that it looked like he broke his ankle.
It was handy to have a twenty-five-person crew all trained in wilderness first-responder emergency care.
Within the hour, I’d rappelled down to Kincaid, and we’d gotten him back to safe ground.
He was going to be fine. I had a run-in with a rock and sported a nasty gash on my shoulder.
I knew I’d be fine, but I also knew I might need stitches.
Kincaid hobbled over with Hudson supporting him on one side. “Sorry about that, dude.”
“Scars are badass,” Hudson quipped with a quick glance over his shoulder.
I chuckled. “Minus the nuisance.”
Hudson helped Kincaid ease down to sit against some backpacks.
“It doesn’t even hurt at the moment. It’s gonna sting when we clean it. I’m just glad you’re okay,” I said to Kincaid. “I knew that stretch of trail was a little dicey. Too much loose rock.”
We made it back to camp with plenty of daylight to spare, although it was approaching evening. Graham volunteered to clean up my gash. “He does the best butterfly bandaging,” Wes called over.
Graham rolled his eyes and started going through the first aid supplies. “I don’t even know if you need stitches, but we’re gonna have to clean the hell out of this thing. Do you want some lidocaine on it before I pour the alcohol over?” he asked.
“They both sting,” I retorted. “Just make it burn.”
The following morning, Nate Fox picked us up to fly us back to Willow Brook. He was one of a number of pilots who flew hotshot firefighter crews in and out of Alaska’s wilderness. He glanced over at me when I was lifting my pack with one arm. “Heard you got a nice little cut,” he commented.
“Something like that.” I winced when I shrugged.
Nate chuckled, taking my pack from me and loading it in the storage compartment on the bottom of the small plane. “You get to go on the first trip. Two more planes are headed this way. We prioritize anybody who might need medical treatment.”
In short order, we were in the air, with about half the crew in this first flight with Nate. Graham had done an excellent job cleaning and closing up the gash on my arm. Yet, he insisted I still had to go to the hospital when we landed.
“Really?” I protested on the flight back.
Graham rolled his head to the side where he sat across the narrow aisle from me. “Yes. You don’t need to go to the ER. We’ll go to the walk-in clinic there. It’s protocol. We need to make sure it won’t get infected. If they recommend stitches, you’re gonna have to accept it.”
“I don’t think I need anything,” I grumbled.
Graham shrugged. “Enjoy the view on the way home,” he teased.
Travel to and from work as a hotshot firefighter in Alaska meant absolutely stunning views. We left the fire completely contained with another hotshot crew arriving from Fairbanks to do more preventative work and make sure the fire remained fully contained.
The landscape of the interior part of Alaska, which was mountainous and thick with trees, shifted to taller mountains closer to the coast with Denali standing tall as the centerpiece.
“Are we landing in Willow Brook?” I asked.
Graham glanced over, nodding. “Yeah. One of the planes is landing in Anchorage behind us because they have a split group, but I made sure we’re going straight home.” Graham waggled his brows.
When the plane landed in Willow Brook, I experienced something new—a sense of joy and anticipation, knowing I would be seeing Luna soon. We all piled off of the plane, and I watched as Graham jogged across from where the plane landed to sweep Madison and their young son into a hug.
I wasn’t expecting to see Luna, so I was surprised when I heard someone call my name.
I thought my ears were tricking me when I lifted my head to glance around, but my heart was already kicking hard against my ribs.
Luna was here. When I saw her walking over with Fuzzy bounding at her side on a leash, emotion rushed through me so fast, my lungs seized for a moment.
“Hey!” she called.
Seconds later, I was wrapping her in my arms and holding on tight. I ignored the sting of pain in my shoulder as I held her close and breathed her in. When I stepped back, her eyes were sparkling, and a gust of wind blew her curls wild while Fuzzy circled my legs rapidly.
“I missed you,” she said.