Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
WYATT
The call comes over the radio just after eleven o’clock at night, the familiar tones our system uses to indicate it’s our call. My crew and I are already in bed, and we’re all mostly scrolling on our phones, save for McGruff, who’s snoring loud enough to wake the freaking dead.
I am so tired of working. We all need a break.
We’re going on the eleventh day of our never-ending shift, and we’re exhausted.
The fire in the next county over is almost fully contained, which means we’re going to get some relief soon, and we’ll be able to get back to our regular scheduled shifts.
I can’t freaking wait. I go stir-crazy when I can’t leave the station for too long, and I think the rest of my crew does too.
It wasn’t a lie when I told Rachel I’d rather be on a fire than stuck at our station or, worse, an unfamiliar station.
It’s more fun to be in on the action than sitting around waiting for it to be over.
The details come over the speakers in the barracks. “Station twenty-six, engine forty-two, eighty-four. Vegetation fire. Possible lightning strike at the base of Old Mountain Mine Road.”
Everyone hops out of bed, including me, and we hurriedly put on our clothes. Within minutes we’re climbing aboard the engine, and I hit the lights but keep the siren off, pulling out of the garage and getting on the road in less than five.
“Old Mountain Mine Road is steep,” Suzi says as I drive like a bat out of hell along the back roads that lead to where the fire is. I’m well aware that the road is steep, and considering it’s a lightning fire, I have a feeling this fire is in high terrain.
“Think we’ll be able to drive to it?” I glance over at her quickly, then return my attention to the road.
It seems extra dark tonight. The moon is a tiny sliver in the sky.
Last week, you didn’t even need to turn on a light if you were outside in the dark.
The moon was that bright. It’s always that bright when you don’t have city light pollution clogging up the sky.
“Let me see.” Suzi is checking the map on her phone. “I used to go hiking up there with my dad when we were kids. We might have to park at the turnout and walk in.”
Shee-it. That’s the last thing I want to do.
As we drive to the incident, I see a couple of lightning strikes flash in the sky, but thankfully they don’t look like down strikes hitting the ground.
I checked the weather reports earlier, and they hinted at possible thunderstorms tonight with a chance of lightning, but since I’d been keeping track, I never saw any mention of actual lightning or thunder. Guess I was wrong.
By the time we’re pulling into the turnout at the end of Old Mountain Mine Road, we’ve seen no trace of fire or smoke. When we get out of the engine, though, I smell it. Suzi and I share a look, and she nods, glancing toward the dirt trail.
“Looks like we’ll have to hike in.” Suzi sounds about as excited as I feel.
“Great,” I mutter, getting on the radio to talk to dispatch. I say all the official stuff and then get down to business. “We don’t spot this fire, and we’re at the end of the road. We’re going to have to hike in. Are any structures threatened?”
“The initial caller lives in a cabin on top of the mountain there. He says he can see flames in the distance. We’re in the process of getting one of the Firehawks diverted and over to this fire, but in the meantime, you should head on up and start cutting a line.
I’ve dispatched another engine to help you,” the dispatcher explains.
Fucking great.
“All right, everyone, we’re hiking in to cut line and control this fire,” I announce.
There’s some grumbling in response to my command, but the crew grabs the necessary tools to take with them while Suzi and I put on our turnout coats and pants.
“You’re hiking in with us?” Suzi looks surprised. “I figured you’d stay with the engine. I bet they’ll send another one to assist.”
“I didn’t come all the way out here not to fight fire,” I tell her with a tired grin, and she just shakes her head, though I know she gets it.
We all feel this way. When I was younger and always on the front line, I described fighting fire like going to war.
Not that I’ve ever been in the military or have any experience as to what that’s like, but I think wildland firefighting is one of the closest things to it.
It’s us against the enemy—and the enemy can turn into giant, hot flames that will singe us to dust if we’re not careful.
I’ve been at this for eleven years, and going on a call still gets my blood pumping and my heart racing.
Speaking of racing hearts, my adrenaline kicks in once we’re fully suited up and ready to go.
I turn on the headlamp attached to my helmet before taking the lead on the trail.
“Follow me in a single line and be careful where you step. I’d advise turning on your headlamps.
A lot of this ground up here is dry but soft. ”
“That makes no sense,” McGruff complains as we start walking. “How can it be dry and soft at the same time?”
“It’s like powder,” Suzi says. “And all the trees up here are either dead or dying, so watch out for their roots poking up out of the ground. They can be pretty big and might trip you.”
We move together in silence, my radio crackling with updates every few minutes.
The second engine is already on its way, just like Suzi predicted.
And a helicopter Cal Fire uses to fight fires at night is also headed over.
The acrid scent of smoke gets heavier the farther we walk up the trail, and finally I spot the flames to the left of us, coming down the side of the mountain.
I look back at Suzi, taking a deep breath. “We should probably get a little closer before we start cutting that line.”
“We can’t do it right here?” she asks hopefully.
I shake my head. “We need to get on it. Stop the spread.”
“You’re right,” she says with a sigh.
“Let’s go.”
I adjust my headlamp so it shines more clearly on the ground, and we go off-trail, tromping across the dead grass.
It crunches beneath our boots, the crumbling dirt uneven, making it difficult to walk.
I misstep more than once, Suzi even grabbing hold of the back of my jacket at one point to keep me from falling sideways.
“Slow down, Wyatt,” she tells me, her tone gentle. I never mind it when she gives me advice—or calls me out on my shit. I’ve been working with her for a long time and have a lot of respect for her. She doesn’t make rash decisions or bad moves. Ever. “You don’t want to hurt yourself.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” I’m the one making the new trail, and while I feel like a dumbass for stumbling around some, I also know anyone walking at the front of the line would have the same problems I’m having.
We finally stop at the spot I deem to be where the line should be cut, and my crew starts hacking away at the dirt and grass with their fire axes and shovels.
We’re close enough to the fire now that I can hear the crackling of the flames.
The whoosh of the pine needles as they catch fire.
It’s terrifying but also low-key exhilarating, I can’t lie.
This is the shit I enjoy, though regular folks would tell me that’s not necessarily normal.
But being this close, knowing we’re going to take down this wicked fire and save the world?
It feels good. Like we’re accomplishing something major.
Well, we might not be saving the world, but we are going to save that one guy’s house, which I can’t even see from where we’re standing.
“Holy shit.” Rodrigo, one of the firefighters on my crew, starts hacking away at something. “This thing’s huge. It’s gotta be a root.”
“Be careful what you tug on,” Suzi warns. “You could make it worse.”
The ground is uneven, making it harder to cut a line to stop the progress of the fire, and I swear it’s coming closer at a higher rate of speed than only a few minutes ago. Moving down the hill, eating at the dead grass, headed right in our direction.
I swing my Pulaski axe over my shoulder and come down hard on the ground, creating a line as I swing it again and again, chopping away at the dead grass.
I hear a crack from above us and glance up, thinking it’s a thundercloud and possible lightning, but I see nothing except clear sky and twinkling stars, covered only by the thinnest haze of smoke.
“What the hell was that noise?” Suzi asks, just as the crackling sound intensifies. I think it’s the fire, but it’s not that close.
“I don’t know.” I turn around, and that’s when I see it. “Oh fuck. Run everybody! Fucking run!”
Tools clang to the ground, and I hear the scramble of my crew’s booted feet on the rocky terrain, Suzi screaming, “Watch out!” Everyone’s running as fast as they can, and I feel the branches brush over my back just before they take me down.
Someone yells my name, but I can’t answer them.
The pressure is too much, like a rock has landed on my back, pinning me down. Making it hard to think.
To breathe.